This will inevitably get longer the more fandoms and characters I write for, and I will absolutely be keeping it updated. Also, if links don't work, please lemme know and I'll fix em :)
Request Rules
Dialogue Prompts
Tag List Form
Marvel
Loki Masterlist
Also includes Mobius M. Mobius and Wowki/Lokius fics
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Markiplier Egos
Markiplier Egos Masterlist
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Baldur’s Gate 3
First Baldur’s Gate 3 Masterlist
Second Baldur’s Gate 3 Masterlist
I Come With Knives Masterlist
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Love and Deepspace
First Love and Deepspace Masterlist
Second Love and Deepspace Masterlist
Third Love and Deepspace Masterlist
Fourth Love and Deepspace Masterlist
Fifth Love and Deepspace Masterlist
Sixth Love and Deepspace Masterlist
The Raven Masterlist
I Used To See The Future Masterlist
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My Hero Academia
Shouta Aizawa/Eraserhead
Stressing About Finals - Dadzawa x gn!reader (familial)
Warnings: brief mention of family abandonment
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Hizashi Yamada/Present Mic
Feeling Shitty - Dad Mic x gn!reader (familial)
Warnings: feeling like shit, depression i guess, hurt/comfort, slight fem reader vibes kinda?? But it can be read as neutral. Oh also swearing just a little
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Yagi Toshinori/All Might
Number One Dad - Dad Might x gn!reader (familial)
Warnings: none
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Erasermic
Erasermic Drabble - Shouta Aizawa x Hizashi Yamada
Warnings: none
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The Witcher
AO3 Only (Links for here broke) - Geralt x gn!reader (platonic/familial), Jaskier x gn!reader
General warnings (Please read the warnings on each chapter): swearing, blood, fighting
Definitive Evidence - Simon Blackquill x gn!Reader
Warnings: mild hurt/comfort, fluff, established relationship, defense attorney reader, injury, blood, stabbing, unconsciousness, blood loss, hospitals, holding hands, small displays of affection, forehead kisses, Simon is secretly a big softie, cuddling
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He's Alive - Simon Blackquill x gn!Reader, hurt/comfort
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Cake Thief - Simon Blackquill x gn!Reader, fluff + silly
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Legend of Zelda
Ganondorf
My King - Ganondorf x gn!Hylian!reader/no-name OC
Warnings: making out, allusions to sex, possessiveness, size-difference
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Forever and Always - Ganondorf x gn!Hylian!reader/no-name OC
Warnings: needles, injections, mention of fear of heights, anxiety, references to Harvey's ten heart event, slight hurt/comfort, semi-implied transphobia (not addressed)
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I Was Hoping You'd Find Me Here - Harvey x gn!Farmer
SMUT Warnings: smut, fluff, no penetration, no genitals mentioned for reader, grinding, cumming in pants, pet names, pleasure dom Elliott, explicit consent, kissing, biting, nipple play, praise, embarrassment, anxiety, virginity, loss of virginity (open to interpretation), cuddling, clothed sex, Elliott is a bit of a dork
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Take A Break - Elliott x gn!Farmer
Warnings: fluff, mild hurt/comfort, established relationship, cuddling, overworking, exhaustion, self-worth issues, married life
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My New Muse - Elliott x fem!Reader
Warnings: Regency AU, pre-relationship, first meetings, ballroom dancing, masquerade, class differences, reading, books, no use of Y/N, fluff, happy ending
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The Arcana
Asra Alnazar
Rice Pudding - Asra x gn!Reader/Apprentice
Warnings: food, vague spoilers (as in, if you know you know), Asra being mischievous
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Julian Devorak
Death Bed - Julian x gn!Reader/Apprentice
Warnings: angst, hurt/comfort, crying, mental breakdown, coming to terms with dying, death, spoilers for Julian's route
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Howl's Moving Castle
Howl Pendragon
Daisies - Howl x gn!Reader
Warnings: fluff, angst, hurt/comfort, happy ending, hanahaki disease, requited unrequited love, language of flowers, kissing, love confessions, potentially ooc, references to novel, movie setting
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Big Hero Six
Tadashi Hamada
Sleep Tight - Tadashi x gn!Reader (romantic or platonic)
Inspired by East Slavic folklore: souls of ancestors feed on the steam of borscht.
Headcanon: Witch MC believes she descends from Zmey Gorynych, a 3-headed dragon slain by humans in ancient times.
So she brews a bowl of borscht to summon its soul and forge a connection with it.
I know Sylus' fav dish is "hearty vegetable soup" in English ver. But it makes so much sense to go with the Chinese version, where it's borscht that could serve as a bridge between the living and the dead in Slavic folklore and i freaking luv it.
I'm wondering how vampire sylus might handle periods...
Aren't we all 😳
SMUT BELOW THE CUT
Warnings: smut, period fic, implied power imbalance (vampire/thrall), potential dubcon (I feel like it can be read as implied consent or not idk), fingering, blood, gender neutral (AFAB) reader, blood eating, mean Sylus (kinda?)
Sixth LADs Masterlist
It's obscene, the way those long, slender fingers plunge deep inside of you. Tan skin becoming drenched in arousal and blood. Gossamer threads of both stretched between his fingers as he spreads them, just to watch the strands snap.
"Look at that," Sylus hums, all too pleased. His other hand releases your thigh to cradle under your chin, forcing you to watch as he repeats the motion. "Isn't that a beautiful sight, my beloved?"
You can only respond with a choked sound.
He has you spread out on his bed, resting back against him as he delights in tormenting you with this "feast" as he so put it. "And a feast," as he put it when he first coaxed you open, "is meant to be savored."
And savor it he does. Every sound, every twitch, every ounce of blood he collects. He makes sure you watch as he raises them to his mouth. His tongue accepts them first. Licks along his knuckles, up to the nail, stealing a long drag of ambrosia. He draws it back in with a groan, eyelids fluttering shut, throat bobbing as he swallows. "You are delicious," he says, like every word carries its own weight.
A smirk curls along his lips. Eyes open, gleaming the same shade as his fingers, as he turns his attention back down to you. His hand holding your head in place raises its thumb, coaxing your mouth open. He can see your teeth, lacking fangs. Your tongue, glistening with saliva. Your throat, closing around a swallow as your mind catches up to what he's about to do.
"Don't swallow," he commands, his authority rooting you in place as bloody fingers reach into your mouth. They press down on your tongue. Maybe it's instinct that has you sucking on them, despite the disgust crinkling your nose or the iron bitter on your tastebuds. Either way, he chuckles, pleased with you, as he ensures every last drop of your blood is left behind.
When he removes his fingers, trails of spit cling to them. "Such a good little pet for me," he croons. You shiver, mouth still open, eyes lidded as you watch him, waiting for him to take the taste away from you. You don't have to wait long, before he kisses you deep, and devastating. His tongue greedily laps at yours. Fangs tease the soft skin of your tongue as he sucks on it. He almost wishes to bite it, if you weren't already losing so much blood from your monthly cycle as it were.
He draws away, but his mouth hovers over yours. His hand at your jaw tightens, keeping you there, keeping you open, as the other presses between your legs once more. His fingers press deep, deep inside this time. You release a keening whine into his open mouth, that curls into a delighted, hungry grin. You expect him to pull them out again straight away. Torment you by dragging this night on for an eternity.
Rather, they begin thrusting into you, curling up against your gummy, sensitive walls with fervor. You grab onto his arm, his bed - anything that can give you any sense of leverage. Your legs kick and twitch, trying to shut around him from the overwhelming stimulation, but his Evol grabs them and wrenches them open wide. You're dripping blood onto his sheets. Staining his hand. He doesn't give a damn. He just wants to hear you, taste your cries, as he makes you cum on his fingers.
Pspspspsps shifted Valko cuddles and when the pain is bad you can squish him and grab him fur? Just big woof snuggles to fix ouch and blegh
Pleaseeeee I'm in pain again and that would be wonderfullllll oughhh
Warnings: fluff, period fic, shape shifting, cuddling, silly dog antics, silly Valko antics lmao
Sixth LADs Masterlist
You whine your frustration into your pillow. Well, Valko's pillow, really. You can't help it. Everything hurts. Your cramps are tearing your insides to shreds. Your back aches alongside your joints. Your head is throbbing with a headache.
It's not his fault he can't be here. You wish you could blame him - at least then the tears pricking at your eyes would seem justified, instead of just an overreaction from your hormones going haywire. You could blame the moon, I guess. It's her fault your wolf can't be here with you. No, because of her, he's out there being... well... a wolf.
You whimper pathetically as another cramp hits. You squeeze the pillow tightly, but the plush just squishes down into nothing. You don't let it go, either way. Breath in deep, trying to latch onto the woodsy, earthen scent of Valko...
Scratch, scratch, scratch.
Is that a tree branch or something? Maybe. You hope it's not rats in the walls or a raccoon in the attic, or something...
Scratch, scratch, scratch. Awoof!
Okay, trees definitely do not make that sound.
You hiss as you uncurl from your shrimp-posture, abandoning the pillow on the bed to figure out what the hell the not-tree actually is. You step out of the bedroom. The scratching is louder out here. And another soft "aroof" sounds when you start passing the living room.
Sure enough, when you turn toward the balcony doors, you see a giant wolf sitting there, pawing at the glass and looking at you with big, sad golden eyes.
"Val?" You have to wonder. You've seen him in his wolf-shape before, but... He should be with his pack, miles away from here.
"Awuff!" he barks softly, keeping his voice down, even as his tail wags with excitement at being recognized. He paws again at the door.
You can't help feeling a bit relieved, like a weight has been lifted off your shoulders, as you open the door for him and let him inside. "Good boy," you coo, patting his head. "You know pets aren't allowed in here, so you're being very good by being quiet."
His tongue lolls out, licking at your hand as you try to pet his head. With every attempt to pat him, though, he just tilts his head further and further back to keep trying to lick you. You laugh softly at his strange antics. Then hiss as another cramp hits.
You clutch at your stomach, grabbing onto his fur with your other hand for support so you don't completely keel over onto your living room floor. He whines as he watches on, unable to do much in this form. Unfortunately, the moon is still high, and it's going to be several hours yet before he can change back.
Slowly, the pain eases up and you can breathe again. He nudges the hand over your stomach with his nose. "Mhm, it hurts tonight."
He whines lowly, ears flattening. But, undeterred, he nudges you forward, guiding you back to the bedroom. You follow along gladly, already hurting from being up and about for that short amount of time.
He hops up on the bed before you. Grabs his pillow and drops it off the side, and laying down in the center, watching you expectantly. With a sneeze and an imploring woof, he urges you to hurry up. Such an impatient puppy.
You climb back into bed. Instead of cuddling the pillow, Valko acts as the perfect replacement cuddle buddy. His fur is soft. He's so warm. And he only slightly smells like dog... mostly, it's just dirt.
You press your face against his neck. He tucks his giant wolf head around you to keep you close. Even manages to drape a giant paw over you. You feel the bed rock slightly with his wagging tail. You can hear the steady thump where it pats against the bed.
Your head still hurts, your body still aches, and your cramps continue to attack you intermittently. But, with your wolf in your arms, to keep you warm and to squeeze tightly, it's not so difficult to drift off into sleep.
And when you wake in the morning, it is to a boyfriend who is very eager to raid his chocolate stash to spoil you (and himself) with a sweet treat or two. (Or ten.)
Sylus was confident in his decisions, and tonight it wasn't any different. The restaurant was the best in the city, nice and elegant with its floor-to-ceiling windows that gave a breathtaking view of the skyline under the starry night and the classical music played live from the band.
He knew she was impressed and took pride in it because he outdid himself. When he had asked her out for a date, he immediately pictured the two of them sitting across each other, sharing fine wine and a haute cuisine.
But of course, he understood her nerves. He felt kind of restless too. His hands held the cutlery with a too-tight grip, misjudged as calm firmness, as he took a bite from his plate. And his eyes glanced over at hers, still intact, before meeting her avoidant gaze.
Her fork was barely stained with the sweet and sour sauce as she poked at... a piece of food she couldn't figure out yet. Her left hand rested below the table, and she fidgeted with the hem of the napkin spread over her lap while she tried to master the courage to have at least one bite. But she felt a knot tightening on her stomach at the mere idea of tasting... whatever it was on her plate.
“Something's on your mind?”
His low, warm voice made her sit up straighter on her chair.
Her cheeks burned from the embarrassment as she forced out a chuckle when Sylus raised an eyebrow.
“I- uhm... I was thinking that it's very nice here,” she lied blatantly because she really didn't know how to be honest with him.
Sylus looked like a dream tonight -the tailored suit hugged his broad figure just right and its dark colour enhanced the crimson of his eyes. And he had been such a gentleman so far... taking the coat from her shoulders, pulling the chair out for her, booking the table with the best view of the whole restaurant.
She couldn't say that she didn't like the food.
She would've sounded ungrateful, and very likely she would've hurt his feelings. He had put so much effort... only for her damming finicky taste to ruin everything? Absolutely not.
Without giving herself time to rethink it, she picked some food with her fork and brought it to her mouth. The corner of her lips stretched wide as she forced herself to munch over it but her stomach recoiled at the taste.
She hoped that he didn't see the tears gathering in the back of her eyes while she kept up the pretence until he returned back to eat, looking away from her, and she could pull the napkin from her lap to cover her mouth.
As discreetly as possible, she spat it out, unable to gulp even one bite down, and crumpled the napkin in her other hand under the table, away from everyone's sight.
She reached for her glass and took a long sip of wine to wash the taste away. Luckily, Sylus had chosen a red, fruity kind that was strong enough to burn the way down her throat.
“Is there anything I can do for you, madam?”
A waiter came to their table to politely check if they were satisfied with their dinner so far. She was glad that Sylus replied for them both, reassuring the waiter that they didn't need anything yet.
But the waiter noticed her still full plate and looked expectantly at her. She felt mortified when the attention was all directed on her.
“My apologies, I might not be very hungry tonight.” She excused herself and allowed the waiter to take the plate away.
“Would you like to order something else?” Sylus questioned, dabbing his mouth with the napkin as he put down his own cutlery.
And the waiter stayed there, waiting for a new order she didn't have any intentions to do.
“I'm fine like this-”
“Madam... if you trust our chef, we have a special second dish that made all of our clients ask for a second helping.”
Her eyes widened at the offer.
But her hesitation got misunderstood.
“Bring it over,” Sylus nodded in agreement. He hoped that this second dish would be finally the one she could enjoy... maybe even offering a bite to him just to flirt a little.
On her seat, she dreaded the moment other food came from that kitchen.
Clearing her throat, she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear while she tried to come up with something that could spare her from this suffering without being rude about it. But her mind was empty, just like her stomach, and she wished that she had-
“Kitten...”
His hand reaching across the table to gently grab hers interrupted her spiralling thoughts. When their eyes met again, Sylus grinned subtly, his thumb caressing her knuckles in a soothing manner.
“Did I tell you already how beautiful you look tonight?” He praised her genuinely in an attempt to calm her nervous state.
And involuntarily he had just made her feel worse.
Her fingers twitched in his hold.
She couldn't do it anymore.
She needed to-
“Madam.”
Right when she was mustering the courage to speak up, the waiter returned to their table and Sylus squeezed her hand affectionately before letting it go.
“Bon appétit,” the waiter smiled while serving a second dish the chef was surely proud of.
She looked at it, and her heart sunk into her stomach.
It looked worse than the other dish. Colourful sauces painted the wide ceramic plate, dishes of... unidentified vegetables were set aside while the main food sat in the middle, buried beneath a crispy kind of... things that reminded her of hay.
Her hands trembled as she grabbed the cutlery and internally prayed to not throw up right there. She could feel Sylus staring at her, curious to find out whether she would like it or not, and it made her feel pressured.
“Woah... it's-” she was at loss of words, her knife brushing aside the hay-thing to take a look at the food beneath and... no, it definitely didn't look inviting in that way either.
“-it might be too much just for me,” she chuckled nervously as she cut it in half and she mentally cursed when a juice oozed out of it.
Sylus frowned at that.
He wondered how it could be too much when she had merely drunk wine for the whole time. He watched her poking at the food and noticed how stiff her shoulders were, the tight lines around her mouth as she forced herself to smile and-
Oh.
“You don't have to force yourself to eat something you dislike just to spare my feelings.” He said, taking the napkin off his lap and folding it neatly before leaving it on the table.
Her face flushed red as she looked at him like a deer in front of the headlights. Panic washed over her, and the cutlery fell from her hands.
“I do not dislike it. This is... nice, it's very fancy. Yeah... I just-”
“You don't like it.”
Sylus stood up, cutting her rambling off, and stepped closer to her, offering a hand for her to take.
She blinked, stunned.
Her eyes flitted between his face and his outstretched hand.
He didn't look angry.
His expression was as serene as ever... maybe a glint of amusement shining in his gaze.
“Come along, kitten. I have another idea.”
She hesitated before following his lead.
Guilt churned at her guts while she watched him pay for a dinner they couldn't enjoy because of her picky taste.
But Sylus didn’t even let the cashier hand over the bill for him to check -he simply slid his black card on the counter and took it back without batting an eye after the payment. He didn’t care about the money. His priorities were entirely reserved for her.
Even if she kept her head low, he stepped behind her and draped her coat around her shoulders, his hands lingering a moment longer than necessary. He could tell that the evening didn’t go as planned but… he would fix things and have her smile again, he was sure of it.
Once they stood outside in the restaurant's parking lot, she didn't get inside the car after he had opened the passenger door for her.
“I- I'm so sorry...”
Her voice broke as she looked at him, standing tall and handsome under the moonlight, and knew that she had messed up the nice date he had programmed for them.
“Why are you apologising?” He tilted his head slightly to the side, confused by the sight of unshed tears glistening in her pretty eyes.
“I ruined everything... our dinner-”
Stepping closer, Sylus clicked his tongue in retort and with a hand cupped her face tenderly. He lifted her chin up while he leaned down so she could see it herself that he wasn't mad about what had happened in the restaurant.
“You didn't ruin anything. Don't need to apologise or feel bad,” he murmured reassuringly, his thumb stroking her warm cheek.
“B-But...”
“But you should've told me that the menu wasn't of your liking,” he didn't allow her to protest and take the blame for something she didn't have any control over.
An amused huff escaped from him as he recalled the hour they had spent at the table and now understood that her lack of appetite didn't have anything to do with feeling nervous around him.
“...if you had done that, we would've been somewhere else already. And you wouldn't starve yourself,” his lips pressed a soft, lingering kiss on her forehead.
Sylus pulled back only when he felt her lean in, melting under the affectionate touch and stopping blaming herself. His thumb brushed under one of her eyes, carefully wiping down a single traitor tear.
“Let me take you somewhere you can finally fill your empty stomach.”
It was one of those places Sylus wouldn't have ever imagined to step in. Not because he had so many prejudices, but due to the fact that it was a really small place where there were just a few tables, a cashier and the kitchen almost in the same room. Despite the simple atmosphere, he could see that it was well-organised and clean, making it feel like stepping into a family's house.
The booths were made of leather and comfortable to sit in, even if the table was so low that his knees bumped against the underside of it whenever he shifted. He didn't mind, though, too busy staring at her sitting across from him.
Sylus rested his chin on his palm, leaning over the table, the tailored jacket of his suit stretching lightly over his broad shoulders, and he grinned in amusement.
Finally, he was blessed with the sight he had longed for all evening.
Her mouth opened wide and took big bites of the food she had ordered, her eyes closed in two crescent moons as she hummed happily at the taste.
She was eating with gusto, and Sylus was content to have her comfortable and satisfied.
Her shoulders were relaxed, her hair brushed past them to not bother her while she ate, and even if her outfit -and his as well- was too nice for a place like this, he found her glowing. Impossibly more gorgeous than she had been under the fancy lights of the previous restaurant.
He took a mental note to do some research in the area and found more places like this to bring her over for dinner in the future.
“That's definitely an improvement,” he hummed lowly as he picked a tissue from the metal box and reached out across the table to clean the corner of her mouth for her.
She blushed hard at the tender gesture as she realised that she had dug into her food as soon as it had been served, forgetting her manners.
Sylus laughed, warm and genuine, before gesturing to her to keep eating without worries.
“Of course a kitten like you has such a selective taste.”
Oh, this might become a collection of “here is one tiny thing that makes my real life annoying; now let's see how the LADS men would handle it”, because honestly? I'm having fun with these more silly and easygoing drabbles. 🙈
This time, the inspiration was the invitation for dinner I received. I'm a really picky eater, and more often than not I find myself starving during these kinds of gatherings. It might sound childish but it's particularly annoying -you feel guilty because you can't enjoy the food just like the others, and also because you're ruining the mood at the table. I can't even count how many times I made waiters worry about losing their jobs for taking back untouched food from my plate... 🫠
Anyway, to comfort myself -and whoever suffers this situation- I imagined what Sylus would do and how he would fix what could potentially end up being a bade date.
I hope you enjoyed this! 🤭❤️
🖇️ Other self-indulgent drabbles you can read:
✧ “Morning Stubble” [Zayne x Non!MC];
✧ ...
🔖 If you'd like to be added to a taglist for future works related to SYLUS or this potential series, just let me know!!
📌 If you're interested in reading more of my works, you can go check my masterlist!!
Since period is hitting me real hard today, I'm open to period prompts for Sylus, Valko, Casper, 5012 (I've only seen him in the dlc but I wanna try writing him), Elliott and ehhh let's throw Simon Blackquill in there too for funsies. And they can of course be requests for transmasc reader inserts <333
Maybe you can write something either sfw or nsfw of Elliott helping the reader relieve their cramps one way or another? 👀🤨🙏
Stay strong, soldier 🫡
👀👀👀 my dick got hard the moment I saw this request
A bit shorter than I wanted it to be, but idk. I had a lottt of fun writing it. I was not expecting to give Elliott a period/blood kink and yet...
SMUT BELOW THE CUT
Warnings: smut, period fic, blood, piv, gender neutral (AFAB) reader, slight references to pregnancy but it's open to interpretation whether you want to be pregnant or not, shame and disgust around menstruation, established relationship
Masterlist
"Are you sure you want to do this, Elli?"
He smiles down at you, warm and reassuring. "If you are having second thoughts, my love, we don't have to do this. As for myself..." Pink blooms across his cheeks. His eyes become dark with desire, trailing down your body. "I cannot imagine anything greater than soothing my beloved in their time of suffering."
You swallow anxiously. It's been ingrained into your soul to be disgusted by your own body for one week every month. The blood, the pain, the discomfort: all things nobody but yourself should witness. Only you should even know you're suffering. Especially when you worked in the city, no matter how bad your period got, you couldn't ask for so much as one day off, and you'd be laughed at in the office if anyone caught onto it or if you mentioned it to your colleagues.
So to have your husband, the most beautiful, elegant man you've ever seen, actively wanting to help you through it - despite the blood and the mess - you just can't fully wrap your head around it. It seems so surreal.
You nod, biting back that annoying, screaming voice inside of you, trying to shame you into hiding away. "I-I want this."
"I'm glad," he breathily admits. "I desire you every minute of every day, but having you like this..." He huffs a soft laugh, reaching to twine your fingers together and kiss your knuckles. "I apologize if this seems depraved, my dear, but you are making me utterly feral."
"Really? It's... gross."
"I don't believe it is. It is biological. More than that, it is... you. Undergoing a process that is almost fantastic in conception: shedding lifeblood, something so precious to the human body, so your body can build another potential cocoon for life within you." He presses more kisses to your knuckles, his eyes almost glowing with awe. Poetry found in the most unlikely of places swirling through his head. "And you trust me to help you through the pain of it all. To try to spare you some discomfort. Even if this was nothing more than a sprained ankle and you asked me to carry you, I would be just as honored."
"Elliott..." You don't know what else to say. Even if you don't want children, to hear him describe it so beautifully stirs something in your chest. Dislodging some of the awful, disgusting things you thought of it. You still hate undergoing it, but it feels easier now to be here, with him knelt between your spread legs, a towel beneath you. Exposed and aching. Some of the wetness you feel you know is not from the blood.
You tug on his hand until he lowers himself above you, propping himself up on his hands as you cradle his face and draw him into a kiss. He hums his pleasure into it, hair falling around you both in auburn waterfalls. You feel as he shifts to holding himself up on one hand as the other carefully draws your leg over his own, coaxing you into hugging his hips with your legs. All too soon, the warmth of his soft hand leaves, and you feel the testing kiss of his cockhead against you.
You gasp and he swallows it, chasing your mouth even as your head tries to fall back into the pillows. Every sensation is heightened. The heat of him. The slightest touch. You can't think about making a mess when it feels so mind-boggling good to feel him guide the tip through your soaked folds.
He finds your entrance, as easy to him as dipping his quill in a pot of ink. It's effortless. With a slow roll of his hips, it catches, and presses in.
You tangle your fingers in his hair, seeking something to ground you from the floating euphoria that devours you. He pulls away this time, but his mouth doesn't travel far, finding your neck. He sighs shakily, the sound mixing with a moan. "Oh, Yoba, you're so wet," he breathes. "So warm, my love. Drawing me in deeper."
You cross your ankles at his lower back, pulling him closer until his hips are flush with yours. You linger there together. Already flush with arousal and panting with bliss.
He sits up slightly, just enough to see where you are both connected. You mindlessly draw his hair over one of his shoulders, holding it out of the way for him to see better. He pulls out slowly. You can see his chest shudder with a choked moan, his mouth falling open, hand drifting up to your hip as though to tether himself to you.
His cock is soaked in glossy sheen of blood and arousal, mixed together in an erotic display that makes him twitch. Lowering himself back down to you, eager and overcome with lust, his mouth brushes your ear as he speaks. His hips begin moving on their own, fucking you with rolling, deep thrusts.
"My love, if this works to soothe your pain, I beg of you: let me have you like this every month."
ohhh... period comfort fics... winces in commiseration
how about taking a really hot, really long shower with sylus? being soothed by the heat and water while sylus pampers you. washes your hair, massages your back, the whole shebang. just really taking his time to make you feel good while you just get to sit and be warm
- @sunnytalks 🌻
@sunnytalks Mmmmm that would be very nice. I'm washing my bedsheets rn and I'm gonna take a shower before bed so I'm just imagining how niiiice all of that would be after being pampered by my favorite dragon
Warnings: showering together, casual nudity, some body worship, kissing, suggestive at the end
Sixth LADs Masterlist
You sigh, more like groan, with relief as you step under the spray of water. It's heated to perfection. Steam curls around you, caressing your body with latent warmth as it rises to the ceiling.
Sylus follows you into the shower with a smirk. This was his idea, after all. He knows how disgusting your period can make you feel, and he loves taking care of you by lavishing you in attention and affection and pleasantly expensive things. So, really, it's a win-win on his part. And with his shower, so many times bigger than the one at your apartment, you both fit easily under the rain showerhead. Selfishly, he takes a moment to simply admire you: the drops of water cascading down your shoulders and chest and body, the contentment on your face, the trust to allow him to see you like this while you're at your most vulnerable.
He steps closer, brushing strands of damp hair from your face. "Better?"
You hum in delight. Automatically, your hands reach out, finding his waist and holding on. He's just as warm as the water, your own personal furnace. "Yeah..." you sigh.
"Good." He ducks his head down to press a soft kiss to your shoulder. "We can stay in here for as long as you want. We won't run out of hot water for a very, very long while."
"You spoil me."
"Of course," he chuckles. "But I would hardly consider that spoiling you. I take long showers, too, you know?"
You huff, disrupting the steam in the air. "I know. The one time I let you use my shower and you used up all the hot water, all my shampoo and bodywash, and complained about it being too small."
"And see? Isn't this much better than that closet you call a shower?"
You pinch his side. He doesn't react at all, but you feel him grin against your skin. "Stupid rich boyfriend."
You let yourself soak in the heat for a while. The water feels so nice, raining down on you with the perfect pressure, stealing all your aches and pains away. Sylus wraps his arms around your waist, caressing your back, all the while humming a song beside your ear and rocking you slowly side to side. Your thoughts condense themself to this moment. No stressing about the world beyond: just you and Sylus here together.
Eventually, Sylus straightens up and walks behind you. His hands are careful and skilled as he runs his fingers through your hair to ensure it's completely soaked through. He follows the process of care you're used to, scrubbing shampoo into your scalp with gentle scratches that leave you humming and brainless. He ensures conditioner is spread from the roots to the tips of your hair, leaving it in for as long as you require. Every little thing you usually do, he does, stealing away more of your worries. You don't have to be concerned about him "doing it wrong" when he knows precisely how you like it.
Once your hair has been thoroughly rinsed of product, he moves on to washing you. He pours some bodywash on a loofah and scrubs in soothing circles along your shoulders, back, clavicle, chest, stomach. He breathes you in deep. The sweet smell of you flooding his senses.
When your legs begin to get tired, he pulls a shower seat to you, giving you his arm to hold as you sit down. He kneels by your feet and continues washing, undisturbed by the change. He scrubs your thighs, your knees (playfully tickling behind them just to hear your giggles), your calves. He washes your feet with care and reverence, lingering only as long as you'll allow him.
Everything is perfect. Your cramps are gone, your headache is far away, your agonies are tamed for the time being.
You reach out to push his wet hair from his face. He meets your eyes with a smile. Even he looks content; half-lidded and satisfied knowing you're well taken care of. You curl your fingers under his chin and draw him toward you. He follows easily, yours to command. This big, scary monster of the N109 Zone.
You kiss him slow. Savoring. Soaking in his love and the taste of him, the feel of him, like this. He follows your pace. Hums his own enjoyment into the kiss as he runs a hand up your thigh to your hip. The other, trails behind your knee, coaxing your legs open to fit him better, welcoming him between them. He feels the stutter in your breath. Hears the skip of your heartbeat under the spray of the water.
He won't do anything you're not willing to. Regardless, he has such an effect over you. So much effortless power.
finally someone who writes for blackquill!!! Him caring for the reader in his characteristic blunt but loving and effective way. making you soba, getting taka to make a supply run for, like, snacks and pain meds and stuff, even agreeing to watch the silly legal drama tv shows with you that you love but that always give him a headache because of the legal inaccuracy
Omg that's so cute ahhhh!!! It's been a hot minute since I've written for him, so I apologize if it's a bit ooc
Okay adding this after writing it, this got SO far away from me but I just could not STOP. He's so cute and ahh and I love him and AHHH 😭
Warnings: period fic, gender neutral (AFAB) reader, blood mention, murder mention, banter, teasing, Athena mention cuz that's my girl right there
Masterlist
You groan, curling in on yourself. You should be out of bed by now, but it hurts too much to even slink out to the living room couch. It would be nice if you could. You listened to Simon quietly slip out of bed at the crack of dawn, following the schedule he's followed for years behind bars in the newfound security of your home. You know he has today "off", which just means he's working from home. Using your desk as his own to look into any new cases, study up on new psychological discoveries, indulge in ancient texts from the time long past he adores so much. It would be nice just to be near him right now.
Unfortunately, with another twist of your insides, that thought is crushed. It's much safer to just lay here, in bed, willing the pain to simply disappear.
The sun is well and truly up when you hear footsteps leading to your door. The quiet click of the knob as it opens. He says your name quietly, still unused to the pet names you seem to enjoy unleashing upon him each day. "Do you intend to get out of bed soon?" It's said with the abrasive teasing he's used to, but you know there's real concern beneath.
You crack open your eyes just to see him. It's still so... surreal. Having him here. Having him home. Petering around your house in more casual clothes than anyone's ever seen him in before. His hair looking healthier than it ever has since he let it grow out so long. The sight of him truly does soothe your soul, just a little bit.
"Maybe," you answer. "My cramps are really bad right n-owww." You hiss as you curl in tighter, squeezing at your abdomen, willing the growing pressure to ease off once again. It builds and builds and builds until you whimper. And, mercifully, albeit slowly, melts away again.
Simon glares, not at you but your stomach. "I forgot that you..." He sighs. Then, determined, he steps forward and sits on the edge of your side of the bed. "Tell me what I can do to help you."
You huff. "I'm not gonna order you around." Still, your hand reaches for his and he lets you drag it toward yourself, pushing down the blankets so you can lay it over your lower abdomen with a relieved sigh. His hands are so large and warm. It feels so nice. "You don't have to worry about me, Simon."
He scoffs. "I'd never hear the end of it from Cykes-dono if I let your suffering persist. Nor does it bode well for any honor I claim to hold." With a smirk and a gleam in his eye, he continues, "And you can't pretend to despise being taken care of, either. I can read you like an open book."
You stick your tongue out at him. He tsks and presses down on your midsection. Not enough to hurt, just enough to remind you of how diligently he's already keeping your cramps at bay. "Fiiine... Can you make me something to eat?"
"Was that so difficult?"
"Yes."
"You'll need pain medication, too. I can't sit around all day with my hand over your stomach." He acts like the idea is so painfully egregious to him. And yet, as he whistles for Taka, his fingers start massaging as tenderly as he can manage into your abdomen. You smile to yourself as you trace appreciative shapes into the back of his hand.
"Painkillers," is all he says to the bird before he takes off from his shoulder and into the bathroom. You're always amazed how intelligent Taka is. He proudly carries a bottle in his talons, nibbling at Simon's ear for praise when he checks the bottle and finds it's exactly what he asked for.
"You better give him a little pat," you warn.
Simon tsks, glaring at you playfully. "With what hands, pray tell?"
Snickering, you carefully sit up, sit yourself back against your pillows, and pat your shoulder. Taka eagerly flies over and accepts the chin scratches you give him. "You're such a good bird~"
"He knows it." He removes his hand from your body to open the cap and pour out a couple pills into his palm. It's strange having free access to medications like this. No one to carefully ration them out, or withhold them even at their most necessary... He drops them into your hand and rises. "I'll be back with water."
"And my food?" you call after him playfully.
He tsks again. "You enjoy having me at your beck and call too much."
-
"Ugh, shit." You scowl at the drawer in the bathroom and how... lacking it is. Honestly, with all the excitement of Simon's return to the court and everything with the Phantom and Simon's execution date, it slipped your mind to be prepared for your next period. As such, you have, let's see, one-two-three product remaining. Which is not gonna work out.
Two now, since you have to do something about the blood already pouring out of you.
Simon is pouring a fresh batch of soba into two bowls. It's terribly domestic. His intense eyes focused on the task at hand, setting the bowls at the table with two sets of chopsticks and spoons for the broth. You know he takes his soba quite seriously.
Glancing over, wondering why you're simply standing there staring at him, he shoots you a knowing look. Still, he elects not to comment on it as he pulls your chair back from the table. "Here. Now you won't starve and I won't go back to the clink for murder."
You roll your eyes at his humor and sit down. "It takes more than one day for someone to starve."
"Not according to Cykes-dono."
He sits down across from you, delighting in his own delicious soba. The peace of it all is nearly enough to forget about your period entirely... Nearly.
You sigh. "Gotta go to the store after this. I'm basically out of product."
He scoffs at the idea. "Taka will go."
"There's no way in hell you're sending Taka shopping for me."
"You doubt his capabilities."
"I question your sanity."
He laughs. "You're not the first. He can do it. Can't you, Taka?"
His beloved hawk screeches from his perch, ruffling his feathers from his interrupted preening session. You doubt he actually has any idea what's being asked of him. For as intelligent as he is, he is only a bird. And, honestly, how often has he gone on a grocery run?
"Make a list of what you require and enough money to cover the costs. Taka will do the rest."
You shoot him a look over the table. One he smirks into his bowl to receive. "And when the clerk takes all the money and doesn't give back my change? Or if they don't let Taka in at all because he's a bird?"
"Taka will know," he says simply. He loves the way his clipped response ruffles your own feathers. He can't stop smirking as he finishes his bowl and sits back in his chair. His legs are stretched out, crossing into your space without care or concern, brushing against yours. "I suggest you have more faith in my companion."
"Fine," you huff, finishing off your bowl. He watches you get up and fetch the notepad that sits magnetized on the fridge door. "But when he comes back without anything I need, you're going out, not me!"
He snickers, watching you stomp off to the bathroom. Taka flies over, landing on the table with the click of talons on wood. Simon proudly scratches under his beak. "You're going to prove them wrong, aren't you, dear friend?"
"Kree!"
-
You huff as you fall back into the couch. Well, fall back into Simon's chest where he sits on the couch. He hmphs at the impact, but otherwise doesn't react as you settle in against him. "I can't believe he did it. I can't believe Taka actually managed to get what I needed!"
You just know Simon's wearing that cocky smirk on his face, too. You grumble as you yank his arm from the back of the couch and wrap it around you, pressing his hand back over your stomach. Your cramps aren't as bad now, after taking the pain meds, but you can't deny how pleasant having his warmth there is.
"Don't say 'I told you so'."
"I was just thinking how beneath me that would be," he teases. His focus is on the tv, where he clicks through an assortment of samurai films.
You snatch the remote from his hand. "Nuh-uh, I'm suffering, we get to watch what I want to."
He snickers. "And just this morning you were this whimpering, pathetic little thing."
You don't say anything. You don't need to. The moment you navigate to your favorite trashy law show, he grunts his disapproval and you've won the argument. "I'm sorry, what was that?"
"You..." He sighs. "I'll enact my vengeance upon you tenfold, one day soon. Don't let your guard down just yet... darling."
How can you possibly be worried about his threat when the pet name sends a delightful shiver up your spine? You feel giddy, leaning back to look at his face. His glare softens as he turns his focus away from the show and to your smile. "Say it again."
He tsks, but he smirks. "Why should I?"
"Because I'm suffering," you whine, playing it up as you press his hand tighter against you, but your big, stupid grin ruins the illusion entirely. "And you told me to tell you what would help me. So you know what would help? Hearing my giant, beautiful, gorgeous boyfriend call me his darling again."
He stares you down. You stare right back. After a minute, he relents. He ducks his head down, lowering himself to brush his lips against the shell of your ear. "Darling..." he whispers, low and deep.
Your face burns, your body warms. You giggle as you hide your face against his chest and neck, trying not to kick your feet like a lovesick teenager who just got a love letter from their crush.
Simon smiles to himself, quietly admiring how easily such a little trick affects you, and just how much he enjoys being the one to take care of you. After all, he has quite a few years to catch up on...
Since period is hitting me real hard today, I'm open to period prompts for Sylus, Valko, Casper, 5012 (I've only seen him in the dlc but I wanna try writing him), Elliott and ehhh let's throw Simon Blackquill in there too for funsies. And they can of course be requests for transmasc reader inserts <333
…𝙲𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚜: In which your period cramps are giving you hell, but it’s okay, because a certain Grim Reaper is there to join you.
…𝙶𝚎𝚗𝚛𝚎: Fluff; kind of hurt/comfort; silliness.
…𝚆𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜: Period cramps, swearing.
…𝙻𝚎𝚗𝚐𝚝𝚑: 6,690 words.
…𝙰𝚍𝚍𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚊𝚕 𝚒𝚗𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚖𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗: AFAB!reader (not necessarily female); takes place on day eight of the DLC; spoilers for some in-game dialogue near the beginning of the fic.
Reblogs and comments are appreciated.
… … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … …
𝚃𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚃𝚒𝚖𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝙼𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚑.
You wake up to find yourself alive, morning sunlight streaming through the gaps in your shutters in a row of horizontal golden bars on the carpet. The thought crosses your mind that you should be dead by now—probably would be, had you not extended your bargain with Casper the night before.
Oh, Casper! Of course. You wonder whether he’s feeling any better now. As adorable as he is with a flushed nose and wrapped up in his pyjamas, you’d rather have him healthy than sick. You rise out of bed, yawning, and that’s when you feel it.
The waterfall.
“Oh, fuck,” you mutter. First a cold, and now this—you can’t catch a break, can you? With a frustrated sigh, you swiftly waddle over to the bathroom to inspect the damage. Thankfully, it’s not too bad, but that’s not your only problem. Your cramps tend to be the worst during the first few days, and lucky you, you just ran out of painkillers. You can already feel the accursed sensation beginning to build in your abdomen. It’s only an uncomfortable tingle at the moment, but you know well that this is but an omen of what is to come.
Whatever. You’ll survive. Hey, maybe it’s the universe’s way of making you appreciate being alive?
…Yeah, right. If that’s the case, maybe you would rather have had Casper take your soul last night. This sucks.
Well, not like you can do much about it. Worse things happen at sea, as they say. It’s about time you started getting ready; you’ve spent long enough in the bathroom. You slap on a pad, rush through your morning routine, and settle into the day-opening ritual which has now become habit: which is to say, texting Casper to fill the lonely void in your heart. You open the texting app and type,
Seeing as I’ve lived through the night, I’d say the cold didn’t snuff you out.
My big strong boy <3
Are you feeling any better?
Ah, damn…
I missed my chance to send you a ‘get well soon’ card and chocolates.
Next time, for sure.
A few moments later, his reply pops up on the screen. He’s changed his profile picture again: another selfie, this time with a red flower tucked in his hair. A little smile spreads across your face. He took your suggestion, then.
hello to you as well.
i’m ever so sorry to disappoint, but i have no intention on ever experiencing that again.
but, chocolates, hmm. curious.
that need not be limited to a time when i am sick.
Oh? That’s new. You add ‘Casper likes chocolate’ to your mental list of things you know about him, which is growing by the day.
A sweet tooth? Unexpected.
even i can admit that mortals have brought some excellent things into existence.
chocolate being one of them.
it is relatively high up the list.
much like the computer i use now, or cup noodles.
fantastic inventions.
The talk of chocolate flips some sort of switch in your brain, and you feel suddenly like a starved animal. God, you could commit some atrocities for a chocolate bar right now.
You know what, that’s fair.
I’m having a chocolate craving right now myself.
you also have a sweet tooth?
Not usually, no.
But it’s that time of the month again, so…
???
what time of the month?
the twentieth?
You smile to yourself.
Never mind.
okay…
so, as for your question…
did you spend your entire night worrying about me?
do i consume that much of your thoughts?
Sounds like you were thinking about me, buddy.
You’re sitting there, imagining me imagining you.
Do you like me that much?
…….…
i do not know what you are talking about.
You liiiike me.
Your conversation continues along a similar vein, with you teasing him mercilessly and him trying (and failing) not to fluster before returning to the topic of his recovery. He says he’s feeling better. That makes one of us, at least, you think drily. The pain is building steadily, and you’re having to shift in your chair to keep comfortable. Not that it’s working.
anyways. sunshine, what do you know about birthdays?
You blink. That’s certainly a change of topic.
Birthdays?
That is ‘the day of one’s birth’, Casper.
ah!
i forgot i was talking to the monarch of sarcasm.
I think we can both have that title.
if it is you, i suppose i do not mind sharing….
but, birthdays…
what kind of things do people do on the days of their birth?
live sacrifices?
feasts?
The first proper wave of pain hits you. You clench your teeth, the lower half of your body seizing up against the unfair assault. You type,
Fuck.
A few seconds of silence on Casper’s end. Then,
people WHAT??
Briefly, you’re puzzled by his reaction. Then you read back over your conversation and realise how he must have understood your text. You can’t help but cackle.
Oh. My bad.
I didn’t mean it like that, lmao.
I mean, some people do, of course. But not everyone.
Anyway ignore me lol
Why the question?
Do you have any plans to conduct human sacrifices?
Or… to do something else, perhaps…?
…
ahem. to answer your first question.
i was walking amongst the halls of my workplace last night…
While you were sick???
there is not enough time to worry about that.
i had to find out more. about our strange… connection.
the link beyond the one i created between us.
it was late. i happened to overhear some superiors talking quietly…
for context, i am of the 13th station, grim reaper number 8394.
…they said that…
those numbered 8100-8400 of the 13th station were created on this day, many decades ago.
Your mouth falls open.
You’re telling me…
TODAY IS YOUR BIRTHDAY??????
Cue a discussion about Casper’s preferred birthday activities, the fleeting nature of love, and a debate about whether or not imps would appreciate having a tail pinned into their backside. Just as you finish gaslighting him, a familiar notification flashes across your screen, taking you by surprise.
[Incoming call. Accept?]
Your mouse hovers over the two options, Yes and Yes. After some careful deliberation, you select the bottom option. You can’t help but think of that meme about the illusion of free choice—except here there isn’t even the illusion. It’s not as if you mind it, though.
Casper’s red-lit room fills your screen, along with the man himself, who is lounging as usual in his chair with his cheek resting on his hand. He’s back in his normal attire, with the hair clips and Azrael absent (to your dismay). Nevertheless, the sight of him makes you feel fuzzy inside, and for a moment you aren’t thinking about the cramps.
“Wow, way to call out of the blue!” you remark.
“I grow sick of typing, and I longed to see your face,” Casper replies, his tongue poking out from between his lips.
“Oh.” You feel your face warm. “That is… awfully honest of you, Grimmy.”
“I am always honest,” he says with an air of self-satisfied pride.
“No, you’re always truthful. Definitely not always honest,” you correct. “They're different things.”
He smiles. “You know me so well, Sunshine.”
You readjust your position in your own chair again to alleviate the discomfort. “Somehow. It really does feel like we’ve known each other forever.”
“Strangely, I feel the same way,” he remarks, raising his eyebrows. “Perhaps an aftereffect of our souls being linked.”
The conversation about birthdays is still lingering in your mind, and your thoughts wander to the flier you saw yesterday for that festival. “Hey, Casper?” you say. “Have you ever seen fireworks?”
“Fireworks?” Casper frowns. “I cannot say I have. They're usually used in celebrations. Not a lot of overlap with my line of work. Why?”
“I was just thinking that it’d be perfect for your birthday. It’s fleeting, it’s beautiful, it’s… human.”
“Huh… Then I would like to see these fireworks, sometime.”
You begin to reply, but before you can say anything, your abdomen gives another spasm and you fold over, pressing your forehead into your palm with a muttered, “Ugh, shit.”
Casper frowns, leaning forward in his chair. “Sunshine? What’s the matter?”
“I’m dying,” you croak out. It doesn’t feel like a lie.
“You—what?” Panic sounds in his voice. His eyes scan over you for a few seconds before his eyebrows pinch together sharply. “Wait. Surely that cannot be the case. Our souls are linked, so if you were truly dying, I would be dying as well, yet I am not.” He pauses. “But still, something is evidently causing you pain. What is it?”
Despite the discomfort, you manage to crack a smirk. Depending on how Casper replies to your next question, this might be so fun—and considering he didn’t know what you meant by ‘that time of the month’, your money is on the ‘fun’ option. “Say, Casper,” you begin, crooning out his name, “do you know what a period is?”
Casper gives you a dead stare through the screen. He looks both supremely unimpressed and supremely perplexed. “A period?” He scoffs. “What a daft question. Of course I know what that is. A period is a designated amount of time, such as a particular period in history. Although, I fail to see what this has to do with your current pain.”
You were hoping he would say something like this. A laugh slips forth from you at his confusion. “Oh, Grim, you really are too funny sometimes, you know.”
In response, he pouts and crosses his arms, as if trying to protect his integrity from your merciless teases. “What? You think my definition was unsatisfactory?”
“Well, not necessarily, but it’s not quite what I was getting at.”
“What are you getting at, then?”
“Do you know how babies are made?”
“Ba—!” He flushes, bright red. You snap a hasty screenshot before his expression can fade. Priceless. “Of course I know how mortal infants are… conceived. But why should that affect—” Just as quickly as the colour came to his face, it drains out completely, leaving his skin white as a sheet. (Admittedly, this is not much paler than usual.) “You do not mean to say that you are…” Casper can’t seem to stomach the words. At last he manages to squeeze out in a hoarse whisper, “...with child?”
You double over again—this time not from pain, but from laughter. Oh, my god, this is too good. You laugh so hard, in fact, that it makes the cramps worse, and you have to force yourself back into a state of composure lest your abdomen literally falls off onto the floor. Wiping a tear of mirth from the corner of your eye, you reply, “No. I am most definitely not with child.” This seems to relieve him somewhat. “But it is related.”
Casper pinches his brow and sighs. “Just explain what is going on, mortal.”
“Alright, alright.” You sigh out, long and slow, letting your face settle into a comfortable deadpan.
It’s time to educate the Grim Reaper on some biology.
“Well, basically, every month, most people with a uterus go through this cycle,” you explain. “It’s called the menstrual cycle, despite the majority of those who experience it not being men, but that’s what you get when the history of science has been dictated by old guys for the last few millenia. Anyway, you see, your uterus doesn’t have the intelligence to know when you’re actually planning to have a baby, if you plan on having one at all, so every month it spends time and effort building up a lovely little blood-nest for the egg to grow in once it’s released and fertilised. However, if you haven’t, let’s say, undergone the necessary procedures for fertilising an egg, your body gets the memo a little bit too late. So by the time you’ve made it clear that no, I am not birthing a creature this time around, it’s already prepared everything. Once your uterus realises its work was in vain, it all goes to waste and gets thrown out via the, ah, what would otherwise be the child’s exit.”
Casper looks mortified. Any cringe you may have suffered by phrasing your explanation in such a way is absolutely worth it. “And this occurs every month?” he asks, almost in a state of disbelief.
“Every month,” you confirm, very solemn.
“That sounds terrible.”
You grin maliciously. “Oh, and that’s not even the best bit. Because leaking out your insides each month obviously isn’t enough, Mother Nature, in all her kindness and generosity, sometimes gives you cramps while it happens as well. Which is how we arrive at my present situation.”
He considers this new information for a few seconds, no doubt to work through the trauma you have just given him, before he narrows his eyes. “...Surely there was a more straightforward way of getting to your point,” he says.
“Well, yeah.” You shrug. “But it’s very important that you know how periods work. There are too many men out there who are ignorant about this kind of thing.”
“I suppose that is true,” he concedes. “And I cannot be comparable to those other men.”
“Obviously not,” you agree.
“Are there any ways to stop it?”
“Well, that depends on what you mean,” you reply. “For stopping your periods altogether, not really. You can take contraceptive hormone tablets which prevent you from building up your endometrium, but once the bleeding has actually started, it’s too late for that. Painkillers are also an option, but…”
“But?” he prompts.
You raise your chin and proclaim with dignity, “Painkillers are for the weak.” (Yes, you do recognise that this is a counterproductive and baseless view to hold. No, that will not stop you from milking it for humour.)
Casper raises an eyebrow. “‘For the weak’?” he repeats, sounding sceptical.
“...And I’ve also run out,” you admit. “Anyway, then there are other things you can use for comfort, like hot water bottles, but…” You sigh, dropping your joking for a moment, and rub your eyes. You can feel a migraine starting to set in. “Honestly, I just can’t be bothered to get mine right now. Too much pain and too much effort.”
A look of hard determination settles onto Casper’s face. “I understand. Stay where you are, Sunshine, and do not go anywhere.”
And before you can say anything more, the call disconnects.
“As if I would be going anywhere right now anyway…” you mutter to the dark screen, though the grumbling contains no real bite. You have an inkling of what he’s planning to do—actually, no, who are you kidding. You know with ninety-nine percent certainty he’s on his way over to you right now, probably with a shopping trolley’s worth of ibuprofen in tow. It’s sweet of him. You don’t know how you can even begin to thank him.
You push the window open for Casper in advance, then lean back in your chair and scrunch your eyes shut, trying to tune out the cramps—but goddammit, it really hurts. It’s like needles are driving constantly into your midsection before your guts are wrung out like a wet towel. You shift position a few times in the hope of settling in a more comfortable position, to no avail. There’s no helping it when the problem is inside you.
A couple odd minutes go by in which nothing much happens, and you start wondering whether you jumped to your conclusion about Casper too soon. He’s already troubled himself once to come over and look after you, and that was only a couple of days ago. Twice might be pushing it.
Nope. Right on cue, you hear a knock on your window, and the Grim Reaper slides into your room. You have to swerve sideways so that he doesn’t barrel into you as he sails over your desk onto the floor. Somebody was in a hurry, then.
“Welcome, welcome,” you say as he picks himself back up and brushes off his shoulders. “As ever, feel free to remember that my door does in fact exist.”
He breezes right past you without acknowledging your quip. “Sit,” he says flatly.
“I am literally sitting right now.”
He rolls his eyes. “On your bed, mortal. It is more comfortable than your chair.”
“And you would know that how?”
You find yourself on the receiving end of a thoroughly unimpressed look. With a sigh, you throw your hands above your head in surrender and do as you are told, trudging across the room with the grave sufferance of a war veteran and settling yourself between the cushions on your bed. It is, admittedly, more comfortable than your chair.
“I have researched how to manage these cramps of yours,” Casper explains. “Painkillers do indeed seem to be the main suggested solution. I forgot to ask which are your preferred type, so I decided it was best to cover all bases.”
He passes a stream of little packaged boxes into your hands as he talks—ibuprofen, paracetamol, naproxen, tablets, capsules… even the orange-flavoured bottles of liquid your parents would give you as a kid. You end up with a little mountain on your lap of more painkillers than you would ever need.
“This is… a lot,” you say, picking your words with care, “but thank you for getting them.” He tried, which is what matters. You place the boxes aside except for one—a pack of ibuprofen tablets similar to the ones you usually use—and, along with a swig of water from the glass next to your bed, toss it down your throat. A thought occurs to you then, concerning Casper’s lack of human money and readiness to run away with an old lady’s flowers. You turn to look at him. “By the way, please tell me you paid for all these.”
Casper is silent. You face-palm.
“Oh, my god. One of these days you’re actually going to get caught.”
“Do not worry. I was very discrete.” He sounds pleased with himself. It is an improvement from last time, in a way.
“That’s not really what I’m worried about. Just…” You rub your temples. “Look, I’m very grateful for the painkillers, but please try not to steal anything else for me in the future, okay? Twice is more than enough.”
“So how shall I get things for you?” he questions.
“Well, I can lend you some cash in advance if you need to buy something,” you suggest.
“I have no need for mortal currency.”
“…You do realise that is precisely why we’re having this conversation?”
“Then let me rephrase,” he says with a huff. “If not for you and your strange needs, I would have no need for mortal currency.”
“I never said you had to get me painkillers,” you point out. “I’m very grateful for it, but that choice was ultimately on you.”
A look of helpless dismay crosses his face. “I cannot stand by and watch as you suffer.”
The moment he says this, the pain intensifies. You clench your eyes shut and mutter a curse beneath your breath. Sickness twists in your gut. In less than a blink Casper’s hand is on your shoulder and he’s peering across at you with concern swimming in the red pools of his eyes.
“I’m fine,” you protest, but your voice is strained.
“I don’t think I need to point out how obviously that is a lie.” His expression softens by a touch as you recover yourself a little, but his hand still lingers on your shoulder. This is when a pink, rotund entity nestled beneath Casper’s other arm catches your attention.
“You brought Azrael?”
“...I thought he may be of assistance to you,” he admits. A faint dusting of red settles over his cheeks. “Azrael also… ahem, does not enjoy seeing you suffer.”
“Aw. Tell him I say thanks.”
Casper nods, very seriously, and hands the axolotl plush over to you. You pull it—him—into your chest and bury your face in the soft fur. It smells like Casper, you can’t help but notice. Ever so slightly floral, with a hint of incense and myrrh. It’s… nice.
“Where is your hot water bottle?” His voice rouses your drifting mind and pulls you back into the present moment. “I will bring it to you.”
“It should be in one of the drawers in the hallway.” You nod your chin in the general direction. As he begins to walk over, you are struck with an epiphany. “Wait,” you blurt. “I have a better idea.” You pat the space directly beside you on the bed and put on a dazzling smile. “You could be my hot water bottle.”
Casper’s eyebrows pull together in an expression of pure affrontedness. “Me, your hot water bottle? What a ludicrous suggestion. I am a gri—”
“—grim reaper, not a hot water bottle, I know, I know, yada yada.” You fix him with the most pitiful, puppy-eyed look you can muster, pushing your lips into a pout. “Make an exception just this once? For me? Poor, little me?”
For a moment, Casper looks torn. Then his shoulders slump in surrender, and you hear him muttering something under his breath about ‘troublesome humans’ as he sidles up to you—not next to you, but behind you, so that his legs are on either side of your hips and your back is pulled flush against his torso. His arms snake around your waist to tug you a fraction closer, and he rests his hands—ungloved, you notice—on your front, roughly above the area of pain. Like last time, your skin buzzes at the contact, almost magnetic, as if it wants to be closer, closer, until there is nothing separating your souls from twining together for eternity.
…Thoughts of eternal soul-twining aside, you realise your mistake too late: you forgot how fricking cold Casper’s hands are. It makes no sense. The rest of him is warm, and very comforting, actually, but his hands may as well have just been pulled from an ice bucket. You shudder despite yourself when he lays them on top of you.
He begins, “Is something—”
“It’s nothing,” you hasten to reply. “It’s just… your hands are a bit colder than I expected.”
“Oh.” Casper rubs his hands together before placing them back on your abdomen. “Is that any better?”
No, it’s not better at all, but you don’t have the heart to tell him that. You really don’t want him to move away from you right now, either. You reason that maybe physically things haven’t changed, but emotionally speaking, seeing the lengths he’s going to for your sake… “Yes, much better. Thanks, Grim.”
“Don’t call me that,” he mutters, at which you can’t help but chuckle.
“Alright, then, Steve.”
You feel the rise and fall of his chest against your back as he heaves a sigh. That’s one victory for you.
You close your eyes and lean back into his embrace. The position is comfortable, but you can’t relax as much as you would like to: the subzero temperatures of his hands are too great to ignore. You try to shift as little as possible, not wanting him to realise that anything is wrong, but you can’t stop yourself. In fact, you’re pretty sure this is actually making the pain worse.
After a few minutes, you hear Casper sigh again. “Clearly, Sunshine, you are not comfortable. My hands are still too cold, aren’t they?”
“No,” you lie slowly.
“I can feel you shivering.”
“Okay, maybe a little,” you concede. “It’s possible I’m still a bit sick, too.”
“You should have told me earlier.”
“I wasn’t lying when I said it felt better. Just… that wasn’t necessarily physically.”
He clicks his tongue. “You and your mortal word games. Wait here. I will get you an actual hot water bottle.” He lifts his arms from around you and you are struck at once by how much you don’t want him to go.
“Wait,” you’ve said, before you know what you’re doing.
He hesitates. “Yes?
…But you also really want that hot water bottle. What a palaver. With deep regret, you suppose it is probably best to sacrifice his presence for a few moments and acquire the bottle, and resume cuddling afterwards. That doesn’t mean you are too keen on it, though. “Nothing,” you say, shaking your head. “Just… don’t be too long, okay?”
A stupidly smug smirk crosses his stupidly beautiful face. “Afraid you will miss me so quickly, are you, Sunshine?”
You sigh. “Something like that, I suppose. Don’t let it get to your head.”
Too late. Judging by his facial expression, it has most certainly got to his head, right down to the very atomic structure of his neurones. He’s such a poophead sometimes.
Casper leans over and presses a brief, tender kiss to your brow. “I will be swift,” he vows, a red flush settling over his cheeks as he turns his face away. With butterflies in your ribcage, you watch him go.
The few minutes that he’s away seem to drag on forever. You cuddle Azrael as you wait, rocking back and forth on your mattress. This whole situation is still surreal to you, even after a week. The Grim Reaper—the literal Grim Reaper—is in your house for a second time, coddling you for a second time. If you had a nickel for every time you were coddled by the Grim Reaper, you would have two nickels, which isn’t a lot but it’s weird that it happened twice. And awesome as hell. This definitely wins you bragging rights over, like, every other human out there.
After what feels like hours but was probably no longer than a couple minutes, Casper returns with your fuzzy green triceratops hot water bottle in hand.
“A dinosaur?” he asks, raising an eyebrow at you.
“Well, yeah,” you grumble, “I was obsessed with dinosaurs as a kid. Everyone goes through that phase. And you’re hardly one to talk, Mr Pink Axolotl.” You pat Azrael’s head. “Which is not to insult Azrael, of course. He is immaculate and beautiful.”
“I agree wholeheartedly. But what does that mean you are implying about me…?”
You shrug. “No comment.” Casper shakes his head, sighing, and hands the hot water bottle to you. “Thanks,” you say, pressing it against your midsection. The warmth radiates right through you and you can’t help but sigh out in satisfaction. Casper stands beside the bed, looking a little awkward as it becomes overwhelmingly apparent that his previous efforts were useless. Noticing his hovering, you smile and wave him over. “I have my physical comfort, and now I need my emotional one. C’mere.” With a mischievous wriggle of your fingers, you add, “I’m not done tormenting you yet.”
“That much was obvious,” he responds, shifting back into place behind you on the bed.
“How so?”
“You are always tormenting me. There is no end to it.” The weariness in his voice is at odds with the way his arms come around your sides to cradle you close.
You frown. “Damn. If I’m that predictable already, I’m going to have to up my game.”
“Please, for both of our sakes, do not.” You can’t help but chuckle at how pained he sounds. “I shudder to think what that would look like.”
As you talk, Casper sets his hands lightly upon your waist. His hands are still cold, of course, but now that you have the hot water bottle to balance things out more, it’s not too bad. You assume he’s just going to hold you—which in itself would be more than enough to satisfy you—but after a moment, you feel his fingers begin to press circles into your skin. He must notice the way you suck in a breath, because he clears his throat and says, “I read multiple sources that said massages can help with cramps. Is this…?”
“Okay?” You relax into his touch, smiling to yourself, and say quietly, “Yeah. It’s perfect.”
Casper smirks. “Obviously. I am the one doing it, after all.”
Oh my god, you think, I am in love with a complete idiot.
“Oh. Wait,” he says. “I almost forgot that I brought this for you, too.” He pulls one arm away from you to reach into his pocket and draws out a little heart-shaped item wrapped in shiny metal foil. One whiff and you know what it is.
Your heart melts at the sight. “Casper… You’re spoiling me way too much here.”
“There is no need to be so dramatic about it,” he replies as he hands it to you. “It is just chocolate.”
“Even so. You really didn’t have to go to such lengths.” You lift it to your mouth and are about to unwrap it when a thought strikes you, making you hesitate. You lower the chocolate heart and turn to Casper. “Hey, you said you like chocolate, too. How about we share it?”
This suggestion appears to catch him off-guard. “Share it?”
“Yeah, share it. I’ll take one bite, you take another.”
“I…” He flushes again, deeper this time, his mouth open and closing soundlessly and his eyes darting from your hand to the floor.
You weren’t expecting quite as much buffering as this when you made the suggestion. “…You don’t want to?” you ask, a tad disappointed. “I mean, we don’t have to, of course. I just thought it might be fun.”
“N-no!” he hastens to reply. “No, I… ahem. I would like to, very much. It’s just that…” Casper stares at the chocolate in your hand, his expression torn. Warily, he asks, “Your ‘period’ is not… contagious, is it?”
You’re stunned into silence. Casper stares at you with evident concern. You collapse into another bout of laughter. “No,” you wheeze out. “No, it’s not. Or it shouldn’t be, at least. Who knows, given our soul connection. In any case, you won’t catch it from eating the chocolate.”
He still looks hesitant—no doubt his little joust with a cold yesterday was enough to traumatise him for life—but your reply is reassuring enough for him to assent. “Very well,” he says, still blushing from head to toe. “We can share it.”
“Great. Who’s feeding who?”
Maybe you were wrong about him blushing head-to-toe, because somehow, if possible, he becomes an even deeper shade of red. “F-feeding?” he all but chokes out.
“Well, yeah. Don’t tell me you wouldn’t enjoy that.”
“…I could not say so even if I wanted to. That would be a lie.” He looks physically pained as he speaks. He is way too cute.
“Exactly. So, once again, who feeds who?”
Silence.
“You want me to feed you, don’t you?” you say knowingly.
“Actually, I was going to…” He clears his throat, eyes darting away. “...Propose the opposite…”
You can’t help the smile which spreads across your face. “You’re so sweet. But I kind of want to feed you, too. Especially because it’s your birthday and all that.”
“We can feed each other?” he suggests.
You shrug. “Sounds good to me. Open up, Grimmy.”
This seems to shock him. “I’m going first?”
“Well, unless you have any reservations…?”
For the briefest of moments, he seems to hesitate, before he draws up his shoulders and steels himself. Against what, you don’t know. “No. Nevermind. I will do it. Bring it on, mortal.”
The look of determination in his eyes is too funny, and you chuckle as you unwrap the chocolate heart and raise it to Casper’s mouth. His resolve crumbles the moment your little finger brushes by accident against his lower lip. His gaze darts wildly around the room, and you can feel the heat radiating from his skin as he takes a tentative bite. With some degree of effort, he swallows, raising his fist in front of his mouth as if that were enough to hide the vibrant colour of his skin.
“Not so bad, is it?” you tease.
“It was terrible,” he replies quietly.
“Oh. Really?”
“Yes,” he insists. “Having you so close… I cannot function properly. You do things to me that are… ugh, I cannot even think, much less speak like this.”
Ah, so that’s what he meant. “I’ll take that as a compliment,” you grin. “Alright, my turn.”
You pass the remaining half of the chocolate to him. He pinches it carefully between his thumb and index finger, like he is handling some priceless artefact. You wait with a patient smile as he brings it to your lips and pushes it gently between them. The rich, sweet flavour floods your taste buds, but all you can think of is his proximity and the coolness of his fingertips brushing against your lips as you take what’s left of the chocolate into your mouth. Your throat at once grows dry and you struggle to get the bite down.
So, you fell for exactly the same things that he did. How embarrassing.
A victorious smirk flashes across Casper’s face. “Heh. And you act as though you are less prone to flustering than I.”
“Well, I am, most of the time,” you protest. “It’s just that… well, it’s kind of like we’re kissing.” At the mention of k-word, his cheeks flare red. A realisation dawns upon you. “Wait. That’s why you wanted to go first, isn’t it?”
“...Shut up.”
“Hahaha. Okay, as you wish.”
You sit in silence for a while, content to bask in each other’s wordless presence. Thanks to Casper’s various efforts, your cramps are becoming somewhat manageable, and the warmth of his body against your back and feeling of his arms around you brings you a sense of comfort you cannot put into words. It feels like home—like belonging. Like a safe, secret hiding hole from the world where you could bury yourself if you wished. For a moment you wonder whether you’ve ever been happier.
Casper’s hair tickles your shoulder as he leans forward and nestles his face in the crook of your neck, close enough that you can feel his lips just barely brushing your skin. Your heart gives a dangerous stutter and heat, not from the water bottle, rushes through you. You expect him to tease you over your reaction—there’s no way he hasn’t noticed your pulse skyrocket—but Casper does not remark on it. Instead, it is a moment until he speaks.
“I wish,” he says, slowly, carefully, as if voicing a prayer, “that I could take away your pain. It is not fair. You do not deserve to suffer.”
The simplicity of the statement, spoken with such straightforward sincerity, gives you pause. Warm, tender fondness buds inside you for this reaper’s kind heart and, in some ways, his pitiable naivety. “Lots of people don’t deserve to suffer,” you reply in a small voice, “but it happens anyway. It’s just a part of life.”
“It should not be.”
“Maybe not.” You twine your fingers together in front of you and give his hands a light squeeze. “But it is.”
He squeezes back and presses his nose into the junction between your shoulder and your neck. Having him so close… you almost can’t believe it.
“Thank you for coming over, Casper,” you say after a pause, putting your heart into every word. “You really didn’t have to, but I appreciate it. So, so much—especially considering it’s your birthday and there are definitely better ways of spending it. The cramps still hurt like hell, of course, but having you around makes it more bearable somehow.”
His voice is quiet, words muffled slightly against your skin. “I would always come. For you.”
The fondness from before blossoms and opens up inside you; a flower unfurling its petals, a fuzzy warmth pooling in your stomach. Words well on the tip of your tongue, but you keep them there. There is no need for speech. Not with him. Somehow, you are certain Casper already knows everything you would say and more; because that’s how it is when two people understand each other.
You understand each other. The notion is consoling; it’s right, somehow. Despite it only being a week since you met—something you are still struggling to wrap your head around—it feels true as you think it. Life is so bizarre in the way that you can spend your whole life surrounded by people and never truly know them, and then one day somebody walks in out of the blue and sees right into the heart of you.
The silence stretches onwards, enveloping you both in its arms of unspoken reassurance. You could stay like this forever and be perfectly happy. Casper, too, appears to have no intention of moving: he seems content just holding you and pressing the occasional kiss to your nape. You’re struck with the sense that time has ground to a standstill, and that all that matters (or ever has or ever will) is the present moment and the gentle tug of your souls towards one another, railing against separation. It doesn’t feel like so far of a stretch to suppose that, right now, you and him are the only two souls in the world. Oh, and Azrael, of course. Everything else—the pain, the future, responsibilities, the human race—is a pretty illusion trying to distract you from this fact.
Your wandering mind falls back into place when your roaming eyes rest on the clock hanging above your door. It’s been—two hours?
You take it upon yourself to disturb the quiet. “I hate to be the one to say this, but you probably have to go at some point, don’t you?” Your own voice sounds foreign to you; intrusive, like it shouldn’t be there. “Surely you have reaper work to do.”
“Well, yes, I do,” Casper confesses, “but if you want me here, I can stay.”
“You know what my answer will be, Casper.”
“Do I?” Given the audible smirk in his voice, he absolutely does. He just wants to hear it from you, the smug bastard.
Still, you decide you’ve caused him enough trouble for a day or two, and so choose to humour him just this once. “I always want you here,” you reply honestly. “But I also don’t want you getting in trouble because of me.”
“It doesn’t count as trouble if it is for your sake.” He says it with such simple conviction. “Technically, considering my main assignment is still to collect your soul, I am in the process of completing it.”
You place a hand over your heart in mock offence. “Wow. That’s cold. Even colder than your hands, in fact. And here I thought you came because you cared about me, Cas.”
He scowls. “Of course I came here for you. You know that.”
“Yep, I do.” You smile. “I was teasing you.”
Casper clicks his tongue. “You are so incorrigible sometimes.”
“I think you’ll find that I’m incorrigible all of the time, actually,” you rectify, “but you love it, don’t you?”
“...I will not answer that.”
“I’m afraid you already have.”
“I literally have not.”
“In avoiding the question, you literally have.”
“That is quite literally not what ‘literally’ means, sunshine. Do you need me to pull out a dictionary, too?”
“If you’re offering to read it to me, I won’t say no,” you reply with a mischievous wink. “But anyway, I think you just don’t want to admit it.”
There’s a note of amusement in his response. “Admit what?”
“That you secretly love all of my personality traits with all of your soft, sappy heart.”
You can’t see Casper’s face, but you hear the fond smile leaking into his voice. “There is no secret in it, Sunshine. But yes, I do.”
With that, you soak up the last few precious moments of peace, before—
“Oh, shit.”
“...Casper? All good?”
“This sudden pain… w-what…”
“Ah. You know, I was starting to think that you might not get them, because no uterus and all that, but, uh… at least we’re not short on painkillers?”
“Sunshine… I truly think I am dying here. How can anything be worse than a cold? How?”
You shrug. “Sorry. Welcome to that time of the month, Cas.”
Because I am a menace do you think you could do this scenario where fem!reader is talking with the lads over the phone but she has bad signal so shes super amd at the bad signal and is like "im breaking up on you" and they think she said shes breaking up with them.
lads boys thinking reader is accidentally breaking up with them over phone call
pairing: fem!reader or fem!mc x xavier, zayne, rafayel, sylus, caleb, valko (all separate)
warnings: none
a/n: this is too funny absolutely brilliant idea that i had so much fun imagining and writing out thank you anon! i hope you enjoy
xavier (word count: 625)
you called xavier while you were grocery shopping. the plan was simple. you were going to his apartment later for a baking date, and since you knew his pantry was probably lacking anything remotely useful, you decided to ask what ingredients he already had before buying everything yourself. although, if you were being honest, you suspected the answer was going to be very little.
xavier answered after a few rings. "hey. do you need something?"
you smiled at the familiar sound of his voice.
"do you have—any..."
you looked around the supermarket. the aisles were unusually crowded. boxes were stacked everywhere, carts were blocking the shelves, and employees were busy restocking. the perfect timing.
"what? can you say that last word again?"
you frowned and looked down at your phone. the call was still connected. xavier's name was still displayed on the screen. so why couldn't he hear you?
you brought the phone closer and spoke a little louder. "i said, do you—"
static suddenly ripped through the speaker. the loud crackling made you pull the phone away from your ear. seriously your service, again? you knew you should have upgraded your phone the last time you had the chance. somehow, every time you left home, your signal decided to disappear at the worst possible moment.
"do i what?"
xavier's voice came through again, quieter this time. "is everything okay?"
you tried to answer quickly before the connection disappeared again.
"no, i—i'm breaking up—" the static returned. "—with you."
the call suddenly dropped, and you stared at your phone in disbelief. the little service bar that had completely disappeared.
you immediately tried texting him - sorry, my phone lost service.
the message failed. you tried again. nothing, just the pesky exclamation mark showing it didn't go through.
you sighed, putting your phone away. you would see him soon anyway, and you could explain then.
you pushed your cart further down the aisle, reaching for a box of sugar. then everything changed. a flash of light surrounded you. the store disappeared for a moment. and a familiar voice cut through the beam.
"you are breaking up with me?"
slowly, you turned and standing in front of you was xavier. his eyes were wide, concern written all over his face.
"xavier?" you dropped the sugar box. "what are you—what?!"
you stepped closer, completely confused. "why would you think that?"
you immediately wrapped your arms around him. but for a moment, he hesitated, like he wasn't sure if he was allowed to hold you back.
"on the phone," he said quietly, "you said 'i'm breaking up with you.'"
his expression softened. "i thought you were crying. that's why your voice kept cutting out."
you couldn't stop the small smile that appeared. of course this was what he thought. it was ridiculous, and somehow, completely adorable.
"no, xavier." you pulled away and held up your phone. "my phone sucks! my service stopped working. see?"
you showed him the failed messages. the evidence was right there. for a second, he just stared, then a hint of redness crept across his ears.
"oh." he looked away, clearly embarrassed that he had jumped to that conclusion. but finally, his arms wrapped around you. relieved. "i see."
"you teleported to a grocery store because you thought i broke up with you."
"i was concerned." he muttered into your shirt.
you smiled, "you're lucky you're cute."
"please stop."
you felt him shaking his head but you couldn't stop smiling. after a moment, xavier pulled away and looked down at your cart.
"so..." he glanced at the ingredients. "are we still having baking night?"
"that was your first question after all this?"
he looked at you seriously then smiled.
"yes, xavie. we're still having baking night."
"good...i'll help."
zayne (word count: 666)
zayne knew he was going to be at the hospital late. you knew it too, which was exactly why you were currently sitting in the parking lot outside a small restaurant, a bag of his favorite food sitting carefully beside you. a surprise.
he had been working nonstop lately, taking extra shifts and barely remembering to eat anything that wasn't from the hospital cafeteria. you figured showing up with dinner was the least you could do.
your phone rang before you could start driving - zayne's caller id flashing.
you smiled immediately as you answered, "hi."
your keychains rattled slightly as you went to put the key in the ignition.
"you sound busy."
"i'm…not." you didn't want to let on that you were on your way to see him and hoped your voice wouldn't give you away.
"you hesitated."
he knew you too well. you tried to play it off, "and you spend too much time analyzing people."
"i'm a doctor it's in the job description."
you smiled to yourself as you pulled onto the road. "how's your shift?"
"long."
"that bad?"
"i've had better."
you frowned sympathetically, "did you eat?"
"i had coffee."
"that is not food."
"it had calories."
you drove through the tunnel, still talking. "so i was thinking maybe after your shift—"
the call crackled, you glanced at your phone.
"hello?" he asked
"i-was thinking-need-to-break-up " there was static. "your schedule" you tapped the screen. it was still connected. "zayne?"
then the call ended. the tunnel was always bad for service. you should have known you were going to lose him. no matter, you shrugged it off. you would see him soon anyway.
after a few more errands you arrived at the hospital. zayne had just finished with a patient when he returned to his office.
and there you were standing by his desk. setting out dinner.
you turned around with a smile, "surprise!"
for a moment, he looked like he had forgotten how to react. then his expression shifted. not confusion...something worse.
"you shouldn't be here."
your smile immediately faltered. "what do you mean?"
"i thought..." he looked away. "i thought you broke up with me."
the utensil in your hand slipped, and fell on the floor with a clatter. "WHAT?!"
zayne looked at you confused. "the call. when you said..." his voice lowered. "that you were breaking up with me."
there was a brief moment of silence then — "SO YOU WERE JUST GOING TO LET ME BREAK UP WITH YOU OVER A PHONE CALL?!"
the entire office went quiet. some of his coworkers outside the window stopped walking. zayne just stared at you.
"that's what you're upset about?"
"yes! you thought i broke up with you and your solution was just... acceptance?"
"it's not like i had much time to question it, i had patients to see."
"zayne." you said taking a step closer to him
he opened his mouth to speak then stopped, because now that he was hearing it out loud, it did sound absurd. not only would you never, but he should have never assumed.
you crossed your arms standing directly in front of him now.
he sighed, "i'm sorry, it's been a long day."
you raised an eyebrow. "that's your excuse?"
"it is the only explanation i have."
you tried to stay annoyed. you really did. but then he stepped closer, his expression softening as his hands reached for you.
your face relaxed. "i guess i should have called back when i got out of the tunnel."
"yes, you should have."
you rolled your eyes and before you could respond, he leaned down and kissed you. it was slow and gentle. the tension he had felt all day melting away. the kind of kiss that said he was still relieved you were here.
when he pulled away, he glanced at the dinner you brought, and his stomach rumbled before he could stop it.
"go eat before i change my mind and pack this up."
"yes ma'am"
rafayel (word count: 744)
you had just finished getting dinner with some friends and were about to head into a new nightclub. it was supposed to be a great night. no drama. no problems. just a fun night out.
before you went inside, you decided to call rafayel. mostly because you knew if you didn't, he would somehow convince himself you died in some horrible accident.
you waited near the entrance, watching the line slowly move forward. the second he answered, you smiled.
"hey. how's girls night?" his voice immediately turned teasing. "miss me already?"
the music from the club was already blasting through the speakers outside, the bass vibrating through the sidewalk. It was way too loud.
"good, miss you—what? having fun."
"that's good...i think."
you smiled, smushing your phone up closer to your ear trying to hear him better.
"if you need a ride home, just let me know."
you looked toward the front of the line. you were almost inside.
"i'm sorry—"
the music drowned you out. you stepped away from the crowd, pressing your phone closer to your ear.
"i am breaking up—"
there was static and rafayel's voice barely cut through. "what?"
you frowned, "i said i'm breaking up—" the connection broke again. you tried moving toward the side of the building where it was quieter. "—with you."
the call dropped. you stared at your phone. "oh, come on."
you barely had time to register that you had lost signal before your phone started going off.
once. twice. then nonstop. notifications flooded your screen - your social media. yur personal email. your work email. somehow, rafayel had found every possible method of communication and was using all of them.
you opened the first message - we can work this out, i promise.
then the next - please don't leave me. i love you so much.
you continued scrolling. there were at least twenty more. you weren't even sure when he had managed to type all of them.
i don't understand what happened but i am willing to take the blame.
are you ignoring me?
that is fair. i deserve it.
but please know i am suffering.
you covered your face with your hand. you immediately tried calling him back but it steadily beeped. you checked your signal bar. no bars.
you looked at the nightclub entrance. your friends were waiting. the night was supposed to be fun. but now you had a very dramatic boyfriend somewhere thinking his entire relationship had ended because of a bad phone connection.
you sighed, "sorry guys."
your friends looked at you. "what happened?"
you held up your phone, "rafayel."
they immediately understood. "again?"
you nodded, apologizing as you left the line, already knowing where you were going. by the time you reached his place, you weren't even surprised that the door opened before you knocked. rafayel stood there. his hair was messy, and his expression was devastated.
you stared at him, "rafayel."
he looked at you for all of 0.5 seconds then immediately pulled you into a hug.
"i thought you were gone."
"raf-"
"i was prepared to give you space." he interrupted
you couldn't help laughing. he pulled back, looking offended.
"this isn't funny. you broke up with me over a phone call."
"but the thing is i actually didn't."
"you said you were breaking up with me."
"i said the call was breaking up!"
rafayel froze, "what?"
"the signal dropped." you held up your phone. "the nightclub was loud, my service was terrible, and you heard half a sentence."
his expression slowly changed devastation turning into hope, "you mean..."
"i mean i was not breaking up with you."
there was a pause, then his shoulders dropped. the dramatic despair faded into embarrassment.
"oh...so i see now that i panicked."
"you contacted my work email."
"i was desperate!" he looked away. "i thought i was losing my muse."
you softened immediately, because underneath all the drama, that was the real reason. he loved deeply. sometimes too deeply.
you reached up and fixed his hair, "you are dramatic. "
"and..."
"and i love you."
his expression brightened immediately as he pulled you into the house and closed the door.
"good. does this mean girls night is over? i just want to know if i should order dinner."
you laughed, "you're unbelievable."
"but?"
you sighed, "but yes. order dinner."
he kissed your forehead. "next time, please don't break up with me."
"next time, please let me finish a sentence."
sylus (word count: 551)
you should have known answering a call during a mission was a bad idea - but it was sylus. and despite everything you claimed about being professional, you always answered when it was him.
your phone buzzed as you moved through the abandoned district, scanning the area for Wanderer activity. you accepted the call.
"you're calling me during work hours?" you teased.
a low chuckle came through the speaker. "and you're answering during a mission. seems we're both making questionable decisions."
you rolled your eyes. "you missed me."
"obviously."
you opened your mouth prepared to continue teasing him. then something moved behind you.
"sylus, hold on."
a wanderer lunged. you dodged, your phone bouncing against your shoulder as you fought back.
"are you seriously fighting while we're on the phone?"
"kind of busy!"
"i can tell." there was amusement in his voice.
you fired back at the wanderer, moving quickly across the street.
"stay there!"
"i am not the one you need to tell that to."
the wanderer attacked again, and you grunted, pushing it back.
"sylus, i'm breaking—" static swallowed your voice.
his expression changed. "what?"
you were still talking but all he heard was fragments.
"i'm breaking..." the signal crackled. "...with you."
he heard a crash then silence. for several seconds, sylus stared at his phone.
by the time your shift ended, you were already exhausted. you noticed the missed calls immediately. and the moment you called him back, he answered.
"i am so sorry." you begin trying to explain
"where are you?"
"uh...leaving headquarters?"
"good, when you get outside look to your right."
"why?"
you stepped outside and there he was. leaning against his car like he hadn't just appeared at your workplace without warning.
"sylus?"
"i already ordered you a new phone. your current one is clearly unreliable."
before you could respond his voice cut through again
"now get over here."
you ended the call and crossed over to him.
"are you mad at me?"
"no...i'm irritated."
"because my phone broke?"
he looked over your head off into the distance. "you said you were breaking up with me."
you immediately covered your face. "i was fighting a wanderer."
"yes, i gathered that."
"i said i was breaking—" you pointed at your phone. "—up because the call was breaking up. the wanderer must have been interfering with my signal. "
sylus stared at you for a long moment, then he sighed. "that is incredibly inconvenient."
for the first time throughout this entire situation, you laughed.
"you thought i would randomly break up with you?"
"no." he answered so quickly it caught you off guard. "because that would be stupid, kitten."
"and yet..." you lifted your phone between the two of you, holding it up right in front of his face.
he looked at the cracked screen for a second before plucking it neatly from your hand.
"it looks like i eliminated the greatest threat."
he turned the phone over once, inspecting it with all the seriousness of someone evaluating an enemy combatant.
"you are such an old man."
you stepped into his space and looped your arms around his neck. shaking your head, you leaned up and kissed him.
when you pulled away, he was already slipping the phone into his pocket.
"the new one arrives tomorrow."
caleb (word count: 632)
caleb answered your call while walking toward the transport bay, his tablet tucked under one arm.
"where are you?" he asked.
you smiled at the immediate question. "hello to you too."
"hello." his tone softened slightly. "now answer the question."
you glanced around your surroundings. "i'm outside."
"outside where?"
"work."
"you're just leaving?"
"yeah. i had to stay late."
"you said that two hours ago." he complained
"and yet here i am."
he huffed quietly, but you could hear the amusement in it. "unbelievable."
"you're one to talk!"
caleb smiled to himself as he listened to you talk. this was the part of missions he hated most—the quiet moments before leaving, when he had to memorize the sound of normal things. you complaining about work and the two of you arguing over nothing.
"anyway," you continued, "i was just calling because i wanted to—"
your voice suddenly felt very far away. caleb pulled the phone away slightly, checking the screen. your id was still glowing right back at him.
"hello?"
"i'm here." your voice came back, but faintly.
stupid reception. of course being so close to the deepspace tunnel. the signal always got weird around this area.
"where did you go?" he asked.
static swallowed half your words.
"i'm breaking" the connection broke then returned for half a second. enough for him to hear the next words clear as day. "up with you"
before he could ask what you meant the call dropped. for a moment, his brain refused to process it. then it did, and the colonel who had faced down impossible missions, hostile enemies, and things most people would never survive—stood completely still in the middle of the transport bay.
caleb never made it onto the airship. he told himself it was because the mission could wait. clarification was more important.
the moment command cleared him, he was already moving. by the time he reached home, he was still in uniform. he didn't even take the time to change. the second the door opened, he was already inside. you barely had time to look up from the couch.
"caleb? why are you—"
you didn't get to finish because he was already crossing the room. and then he was holding you. not a casual hug. not the kind where he pulled you close and teased you about worrying too much. this was desperate. like he needed to feel you breathing before he could believe he was home.
you froze, your arms hovering awkwardly before slowly wrapping around him.
"caleb?"
his grip tightened. "we can't break up." his voice came out rough. "not now...not ever."
you pulled back just enough to look at him. "caleb, what are you talking about?"
his eyes were red. actually red. and that was when the confusion turned into concern.
"you said it...on the phone" he whispered.
faint amusement played on your lips, "oh...oh my god."
but caleb still looked at you serious.
"my love we were losing signal," you said slowly. "i was literally telling you the call was breaking up."
the realization hit him all at once. at the same time you stared at his uniform.
"wait." your eyes narrowed. "did you leave the mission?"
"i thought you were leaving me."
the quiet confession made your heart ache.
you reached up and touched his face. "what did you tell them?"
"that there was a family emergency."
"caleb you cannot be serious?!"
"well it wasnt exactly a lie!"
you laughed softly, shaking your head. "you really scared yourself."
"i know." he said so quiet you almost didn't hear him.
"you cried, didn't you?"
his silence answered for him.
your expression softened turning teasing, "the big bad colonel cried?"
"don't start."
his forehead rested against yours, and for the first time since that awful phone call, he laughed.
"lets hope i don't get fired"
valko (word count: 674)
valko had dealt with system failures before. servers crashing. technology malfunctioning at the worst possible moment. he had built an entire company around solving those problems. so when his phone failed him, he took it personally.
the call had started normally. you were on your way home, talking about your day while valko finished up some work.
"you're still in the office?" you asked.
"yes."
"you know, most people leave work eventually."
"most people are not running a company."
"no i am pretty sure even those people go back to their normal lives."
he was still smiling when the call started breaking up. at first, he assumed it was a minor connection issue.
then your voice distorted. "valko, i'm—"
his brows furrowed, turning the speaker off and bringing the phone closer to him.
"i'm breaking up—" the words jumbled together slightly. then the line dropped but right before it did he could have sworn you had said "with you"
valko stared at the screen. for several seconds, he didn't move. then he looked around his office. the same office where his employees had spent years developing cutting-edge technology. and somehow...his own phone had just delivered the worst possible message.
within the next hour, his executive team walked into a meeting expecting quarterly reports. instead, they found valko sitting at the head of the table with his phone placed in front of him.
one employee hesitated before asking. "is there an issue?"
"there is."
everyone became serious. "security breach?" someone said
"no."
"system failure?"
"no...my phone."
the room went silent. "your phone?" his assistant asked
valko nodded. "it malfunctioned."
someone looked confused. "we can replace it."
"that is not the point." valko continued. "it caused unnecessary emotional distress."
one employee slowly realized what happened. "sir."
"no." valko's expression remained completely serious. "i am exploring legal options."
"against who?"
"the manufacturer," valko said evenly. "the network provider. possibly both."
he clasped his hands behind his back and continued pacing.
"i am considering emotional damages."
"valko."
your voice cut cleanly through the room. every head turned toward the office door. one of his assistants had called you the moment valko started pacing around his office, throwing papers across his desk and, according to the assistant's very panicked words, "absolutely raging."
you'd changed directions immediately and came straight to his company. now, standing in the doorway, you looked between the nervous employees and your boyfriend.
"what's going on?" you asked carefully. "your assistant called and said it was an emergency."
the moment valko saw you, every ounce of composure disappeared. he crossed the room in seconds and wrapped his arms around you without a second thought, completely ignoring the audience.
"valko?"
he held you tighter. "explain the phone call."
you frowned, "what phone call?"
"the breakup."
then your eyes widened. "break—" you slapped a hand over your forehead. "oh! i was saying the call was breaking up!"
the office went completely still. valko slowly turned his head toward his employees. then, with all the dignity he could still salvage, he cleared his throat.
"everyone out."
no one argued. laptops, notebooks, coffee mugs—everything was abandoned as the room emptied in record time. when the door clicked shut, only then did valko finally look back at you.
he glanced down, suddenly finding the floor very interesting. "i see..."
you stared at him for exactly three seconds before bursting into laughter.
"you thought i broke up with you? and you were going to sue your own industry as a result?"
he sighed, sat down in his chair, and effortlessly pulled you into his lap.
"you are never letting this go, are you?"
"oh, absolutely not."
a reluctant smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. you brushed a thumb across his cheek, still smiling.
"you owe me an apology."
he considered that then shook his head. "no. you owe me."
"for what?"
he looked at you with complete seriousness. "emotional damages."
you groaned, laughing as you buried your face against his shoulder.
The balcony on the second floor is cold. The cigarette you pocketed from someone's pack downstairs is sticky on your tongue as you huff. It doesn't taste good — not that you were expecting it to, but it doesn't have the same addictive properties you had— why did you expect it to be addictive in the first place anyway? You don't remember any of that from when you were human.
"0213."
You turn to face your trainer, removing the smoke from your mouth and looking at him.
"Am I getting reprimanded? Or chased out?"
5012 looks at you, and stares. You stare back, and you watch as he rests a hand on the railing next to you, and then his free hand moves.
At first, you think he's going to brush the hair from your face, but it stops by the cigarette between your lips, and he takes it. You let him, lips relaxing around the smoke as his fingers brush yours to take it off your hand.
He presses the cigarette to his own lips, inhaling as he closes his eyes.
"Neither."
"Rare." You huff. "I'd like that back, though. It's the only one I have."
5012 removes the cigarette from his mouth, pressing the end between your lips as the back of his fingers brush your lips.
It feels weirdly intimate.
"Thank you."
He hums, staring as he reaches into his pocket.
"You stole from my pack."
"Want something back in exchange?" You tap your chin, flicking your wrist to let the ash fall a little. "A day of no yammering? I can leave too. Anything for the taking."
"Anything?"
"Anything."
"Mm."
5012 takes the cigarette from your lips, and you watch as he leans down slowly, lips pressing to yours as you taste the haze on. his lips, tilting your head gently to give him easier access.
When he pulls from you, you catch your breath, staring to the side as he takes out a cigarette of his own, returning yours to your lips as you bite the brown between your lips.
He places his unlit one between his lips, and he leans over slightly to press the white of his cigarette to the lit part of yours.
The white turns orange first, and then the fire spreads to his own cigarette, and he pulls from you, staring back into the city as you're left to collect yourself.
"Your papers are all messed up." You grin, stretching your neck back as you dodge a kiss from 5012.
He hums, palms pressing to the bone of your thigh instead, holding it in place as he uses his own legs to nudge you to spread further apart. You try to be good for him, but you also find that riling him up for a reaction is nothing if not funny. It's called playing your cards right, you insist. He calls it being a brat. You huff when he calls you that. You behave when you know it does you good. Besides, he's acting like he doesn't enjoy when you act like a brat.
"Be good."
"Like you were when you looked so good in that suit for me? Who knew you were hiding so much under that jacket of yours." You laugh, and 5012 puts his cigarette out in his ashtray on the side. The flame dies, and he looks at you, humming as he picks up the dead cigarette one last time.
"Open your mouth."
"What? Gonna—"
"Be good." He takes a final drag of the cigarette, hand grabbing your jaw to force your mouth open as he presses his lips to yours, taking the chance to slip into you as you moan into his mouth. You think your eyes nearly get stuck from how far back they roll. The smoke is tangy on your tongue as you inhale, an obnoxiously obscene moan escaping you when the smoke settles in your lungs.
The moan you let out isn't without effect, though, and 5012 moans back into your mouth when he bottoms out inside of you.
You're so so full.
He pulls his lips from yours, letting go of your jaw as he smirks down at you. "You're so good for me."
You clench around him at the praise, and his lips curl coyly against your neck before he sinks his teeth into the curve of your neck.
And, well. The bruises speak for themselves when 0204 asks why you're extra covered up in the video call in the morning.
