#glad to finally patch them up

[cimtee]

neck kisses :)

I’ve always thought kissing someone’s neck is a really intimate gesture, not just in a sexual or romantic context. I think it’s about it being an exposed, vulnerable, sensitive part of you and the way bodies might fit together to make it happen

And as you can probably tell by now, I love depicting people in moments of familiarity and comfort <3

(this was the insp for the second one)

[helaintoloki]

Back to You

pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

warnings: mild language, pining, fluff

notes: my bucky and yelena brain rot is off the charts which is how this came about

summary: Yelena’s interest in y/n forces Bucky to confront his feelings for her as the Thunderbolts take refuge in her home

“I can’t thank you enough for this.”

“Well, this is definitely more interesting than whatever I had planned today,” you respond jokingly as you finish stitching closed the gash on Bucky’s pectoral. “I will say, if I knew I’d be having company I probably would have tidied up a bit around here.”

Both yours and Bucky’s gazes turn to the group of beaten down misfits that occupy your living room at the mention of company. The amount of people taking refuge in your home made it appear almost comically small, but you weren’t exactly new to having to take care of super heroes- or in this case antiheroes- on a whim like this.

Before Thanos and the Blip, you had been a good friend of Steve’s. As his neighbor across the hall who also happened to be a nurse, he tended to treat your apartment like his own personal health clinic after a particularly grueling day of protecting the city. You welcomed him in without question of course, and after some time he had begun bringing friends in need of patch jobs with him. This was how you met Sam and Natasha, and eventually Bucky. You were enthralled by the turmoil swimming in his eyes and his reserved nature, and your gentleness and willingness to help a total stranger like him with no reservation had stuck with Bucky forever.

You lost touch with them all after the Sokovia Accords debacle and being turned into dust for five years, but once the work of the infinity stones had been reversed and you were able to attempt a life at normalcy, Bucky and Sam had returned right back to your doorstep.

In the years that passed, you and Bucky had been able to form a close friendship. It didn’t happen without growing pains throughout the process of course, and it took time for the super soldier to open himself up to you so intimately, but you’d been able to reach a point where Bucky could come to you for anything and vice versa. So when he’d called five minutes before his arrival asking to seek shelter in your modest home, you immediately agreed without question.

“Alright, you’re good to go,” you inform him after smoothing out the bandage on his chest. Looking out to the rest of the group, you hold up your first aid kit and ask, “Anyone else need some TLC?”

You’re met with silence to which Bucky offers you a comforting pat on the shoulder before hopping off of your counter. The group looks more exhausted and defeated than anything, and he convinces you they’ll probably be fine.

“Well, in the meantime, would anyone like breakfast? I think I have some pancake mix around here somewhere,” you murmur absently, and this gets some heads to finally turn.

“Pancakes… would be nice,” Yelena offers with pursed lips and a shrug, trying to be inconspicuous as she obviously snoops through your things.

“Do you have eggs?” John voices tiredly. “I could really go for some scrambled eggs.”

“Eggs and pancakes… anything else?”

“I cannot have eggs without bacon,” Alexei notes thoughtfully only for Bucky to roll his eyes.

“You don’t have to cook all of that,” he tries to assure you only for you to shake your head in response.

“It’s really no problem, I’m just glad I went grocery shopping yesterday.”

You give Bucky a reassuring smile before disappearing into the kitchen, allowing him the chance to finally walk over and snatch the frame Yelena had been scrutinizing behind your back from her grasp.

“What are you doing?” He retorts in annoyance before setting it back down on the shelf. “We’re guests here, you can’t just touch all of her stuff.”

“She has a photo of my sister,” the blonde rebuffs defensively, “I have a right to touch it. Why does she have it?”

“Before she was my friend, she was Steve’s friend. He introduced her to Natasha, and they became friends too. Good friends.”

“Hmm,” she replies thoughtfully, finally easing up a bit as she takes in the information. “If Natasha considered her a friend, then I will too.”

“Yeah, I think she’s good on friends right now,” Bucky scoffs. Yelena raises a brow at his annoyance before a coy smile begins to form on her lips.

“Are you threatened by me, Barnes?” She prompts with a laugh, only doubling down when she notices the aggravated tick of his jaw. “Because it’s okay if you are, I understand. I mean, she is a beautiful woman, and I can see how much you love her-“

“Hold on a minute, what are you talking about?”

“Surely you cannot be this stupid,” Yelena affirms with a teasing smile that soon falls at Bucky’s flustered demeanor. “Or maybe you are.”

“I don’t love y/n,” Bucky says defensively, voice hushed to avoid any prying ears from listening to their conversation. “She’s just a good friend.”

“Well, if she’s just a good friend then you won’t mind if I go talk to her and tell her how much I love what she’s done with this place,” Yelena states plainly with a mischievous smile as she makes her way towards the kitchen only to be stopped by Bucky grabbing onto her arm.

“Don’t,” he warns with a scowl. From his spot on the couch, Alexei laughs.

“You are smart to stop her, Barnes,” he notes proudly, “my Yelena is quite the lady killer.”

“What’s the harm, Barnes? You obviously do not want to date this beautiful woman who has opened her home to us, so why can’t I?”

“If I admit I love her will you stop?” Bucky begs despite the clear aggravation in his tone. With her hands raised in surrender and lips pulled into a small frown, Yelena suspends her march towards the kitchen once Bucky finally relinquishes his hold on her arm. “Thank you.”

“Life is short, James. Do not let her sit and wait for you forever.”

Bucky lets out a long exhale through his nose at her words, and despite how much she annoys him, he knows she’s right. Bucky loves you and has always held a deep sense of admiration for the selfless woman who had taken him and Steve in without question despite the fact that it would get her into trouble with the government. You were one of the first to show him genuine kindness after spending years under Hydra’s thumb, and he’d never be able to forget that. You are his light in darkness, his saving grace, his confidant, and that’s why he’s so hesitant to fully bring you into his world by asking you to be his partner. Being friends keeps you at an arm’s length from the dangers of his life, but being the one he comes home to after a high stakes mission puts you in a whole new light to his enemies, and he’s not sure if he’s ready to put you through that just yet.

“Breakfast is on the table!” You call out from the kitchen, and Bucky watches with a wry grin as every person in the living room moves their aching bodies hastily into the dining room to get a chance at scoring some of your pancakes. You meet him shortly after and present him his own plate of pancakes, eggs and bacon to enjoy in peace away from the rest.

“You look like you have a lot on your mind so I figured you’d want to eat out here,” you explain with a careful smile before joining him on the couch. “You gonna be okay?”

“I don’t know if these guys are up for this,” he admits almost dejectedly, casting a glance towards the dining room where the Thunderbolts sit loudly bickering over the syrup bottle.

“Hey, as long as they have you there with them, I think they’ll be okay,” you comfort reassuringly, reaching forward to give his arm a tender squeeze.

“I really doubt that, but thanks,” Bucky responds with a weak chuckle, “you keep me sane.”

“It’s my speciality.”

A comfortable silence washes over you then as you meet each other’s tender gazes and enjoy the rare moment of peace shared between you both. Bucky longs to just pull you into his arms and hold you, but he resists and instead returns to enjoying his breakfast.

“We’ll be out of your hair as soon as they’re done eating,” Bucky reassures you only for you to give him an indifferent shrug.

“That’s fine, but can I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

“Are you ever going to kiss me?” You prompt with an innocent smile, catching poor Bucky off guard as he momentarily chokes on his pancakes.

“What?” He splutters, fist thumping on his chest to help the food go down.

“I mean, maybe I’m reading it all wrong, but I feel like sometimes you look at me like you want to kiss me,” you explain simply, “and I wouldn’t mind if you did.”

“That obvious, huh?” He sighs with a bashful smile before setting his plate down on the coffee table.

“Yeah, well, that and also Yelena might have told me something on her way to the dining room,” you offer with an apologetic laugh.

“Oh, god, what did she say?”

“Something along the lines of if you never man up and decide to tell me how you feel that I should give her a call.”

“She’s a pain in my ass,” he grumbles irately, but his tone softens as he looks to you in remorse and continues, “but she’s right. You deserve to know how I feel about you.”

Smiling, you move closer to the super soldier so that you can curl into his side and rest your head upon his chest. His arms immediately come to wrap around your figure as he kisses the crown of your head, prompting you to let out a content sigh.

“We can figure out all the details when you get back from saving the world,” you assure him, “but just know that I love you, and I’ll be here waiting for you to come home.”

“Home,” Bucky sighs wistfully, already mourning your time together as he thinks about having to leave you behind. “I can promise you this- nothing is going to stop me from coming back to you.”

You look up to meet his tender gaze and are pleasantly surprised when he leans down to press a careful kiss to your lips. Your heart beats rapidly in your chest as you savor the moment you’ve been longing for ever since you met Bucky, and by the way he kisses you as if you are the air he needs to breathe, you think it’s safe to assume he feels the same.

His heart is yours, and as you tenderly embrace from the comfort of your couch, you can rest assured that to Bucky, home is where you are.

[kettlefire]

Muscle Memory (DpxDc)

Jason barely remembered getting back to his safe house or even finding his way to bed. The night had been so tiring, so busy, and so many parts of his body hurt.

The moment his head hit the pillow, he was out like a light. Drifting off into dreamland for some much need sleep.

That was until a noise stirred him up from his sleep. It was a soft creak of one of his many loose floorboards.

It was in a flash that Jason was up, eyes still heavy with sleep, and a gun held to his thigh as he exited his bedroom. The soft light coming from his bathroom was the first hint.

When he pushed open the bathroom door, the sight before him had him holstering his weapon. Black hair, blue eyes, and blood. That's all Jason needed to see.

Jason would swear he wasn't still half asleep, that he knew this wasn't one of his brothers. In reality, still sluggish from a hard night and sleep deprivation, Jasin's brain had automatically assumed it was one of his baby brothers.

As he immediately settled into patching up the wounds, holding back questions for now. It wouldn't be the first time one of them came to him for aid when they didn't want Bruce to know they were hurt yet.

It was pure muscle memory as Jason worked. Yes, he didn't like the injuries, reminding himself to ask which rogue did this in the morning.

Now wasn't the time for an interrogation. Not with the barely concealed tears in those eyes, or the dark bags that decorated beneath them.

He barely grumbled for the teen to take the couch, reminding that there were extra blankets in the hallway closet. Dropping a few pills into the boy's hand to help with the pain he was surely in.

Jason left the mess in the bathroom, leaving it a problem for more awake him. He waved the boy off when he tried to speak, telling him they'll talk in the morning.

In the end, Jason was glad to finally face plant back into his bed. Barely bothering to curl up under the covers before sleep took over once again.

When morning came, Jason almost forgot about letting one of his brother's crash in his place. Stumbling out of his bedroom to immediately notice the lump on his couch.

He put a pot of coffee on, grabbing his phone, ready to let Bruce know that whoever came to him last night was safe and sound.

Except, when Jason moved over to confirm who it was, he finally noticed. This wasn't one of his brothers. And last he heard, Bruce hadn't taken in any new strays.

Jason stood over the sleeping boy, phone in one hand, and mind figuring out what to do. His mind replaying the half-asleep memories from last night.

It made sense, now that he thought about it. The boy had seemed so scared, so surprised that Jason was helping. The boy hadn't done anything either by the looks of it.

He didn't seem to have taken anything or even snooped. The boy seemed to have just crashed on the couch like Jason had told him to. He didn't come here to rob him or cause trouble. The kid had broken into his safe house only to raid his first aid kit.

The kid had broken into his safe house only to raid his first aid kit.

Well, Jason wasn't about to put Alfred's teachings to shame by being a horrible host either.

[gremlingottoosilly]

Bimbo!Reader that constantly sends Konig's nudes to encourage him while he's away and working

Getting a bullet to his hip and frantically checking over his phone only to see his pretty, gorgeous, fucking dumb girlfriend send him nudes in an attempt to make him feel better wasn't something that Konig could ever get used to. Not the bullet part - he got plenty of those, and it barely even pains him anymore - but the nude part. The girlfriend part. Fucking gorgeous girlfriend who likes him enough to send him nudes and bed him to send some back. Like he would ever stand in the bathroom after getting patched up, trying to find the best angle for his body and- Yeah, this is exactly what he is doing. Fuck. The photos you get are always blurry like he can't quite learn how to use his phone without the threat of crushing it in his bear-like hands - but you chirp in the voice messages that you adore them that you like them so much that you like him so much - and just can't can't can't wait for him to be back home. Konig never thought that kidnapping some pretty and dumb thing would result in receiving a perfect domestic girlfriend, but he had finally trained you enough to trust you to be home alone and let him go on longer missions - and this is still a fucking torture. He hates being away from you, hates not having you by his side. His team would try to get in his phone again, checking what their colonel was up to, staring at the screen like he just saw the sexiest ghost in existence, and he would cover his phone immediately, barking at them to get lost and stop slacking off. He will find a moment to jerk off at your pretty pictures when he is alone - and he will think of a good response to your messages after his head is clear from his horniness. He just can't do it, not right now, he needs you there with him - this way, he won't have to fumble for words he doesn't have, he can just show his appreciation with soft touches and small mumbling somewhere between your tits, whispering the praises with his tongue latched on your clit or your sensitive nipple. Konig just glad you're careless enough to not care that he only responded to your nudes with a heart emoji - you're just glad he is okay, maybe even well enough to actually talk to you later, let you listen to your rambling about your day and the doggy you met on your way from the grocery store - a rare privilege he gives you only when he isn't there to do everything for you.

[velvetvisionsaurora]

Alpha ATEEZ x Assistant Omega Reader

Warnings: omega reader, alpha ateez, scenting, heats, ruts, slow burn, eventual smut, forced command, more to come!

When Y/n accepts a position as assistant to alpha K-pop group ATEEZ, she's prepared with professional skills and scent blockers to hide her omega status. What she's not prepared for is the immediate, inexplicable connection she feels with all eight members—a resonance that defies her careful boundaries.

As Y/n becomes eerily attuned to their needs, her suppressed omega nature begins to emerge: purring for the first time in years, responding to alpha growls, feeling safe in ways she never has before. When a protective incident reveals the depth of the members' attachment to her, Y/n must confront the possibility that what binds them together is something ancient and profound.

Authors note: 😳 You all blew up the fic, lol. I’m glad everyone loves it! Unfortunately though the Taglist is currently closed! I’m so sorry everyone! Thank you for all the reposts and love! Keep leaving comment on your thoughts! I love reading them. 💜

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Masterlist

Chapter 3: First Day

The two weeks following your job acceptance passed in a whirlwind of activity. Between giving notice at your previous job, packing up your belongings, and saying goodbye to your roommates, you'd barely had time to process the magnitude of the change you were about to undertake. Manager Minwoo had been in constant contact, sending over contracts, employee handbooks, and preliminary schedules to help you prepare.

Now, as you stood beside the small moving truck that contained your life's possessions, staring up at the ATEEZ residence, reality finally hit you. This was happening. Today, you were officially starting as their assistant, and this beautiful property was about to become your home.

You reached up to check your scent blocker patch, a gesture that had become almost ritualistic in its frequency over the past two weeks. Working and living in such close proximity to eight alpha idols meant you couldn't afford even a moment's lapse in concealing your omega status.

Taking a deep breath, you picked up the small box containing your immediate essentials and approached the front gate. Before you could even press the intercom button, the gate swung open, revealing Kim Hongjoong waiting on the other side.

"I saw the truck pull up," he explained with a warm smile that made your heart skip. "Welcome to your new home, Y/n."

Hongjoong had been watching the driveway periodically all morning, trying not to seem overeager about your arrival. When he finally spotted the moving truck turning into their street, he'd immediately headed downstairs, ignoring Wooyoung's knowing smirk and San's amused comment about "eager alphas."

Now, seeing you standing there with a box in your arms and nervous anticipation written across your face, Hongjoong felt that same inexplicable pull he'd experienced during your interview. There was something about your presence that resonated with him on a deeply instinctive level—something his alpha senses recognized even without being able to detect your scent.

"Let me help you with that," he offered, reaching for the box in your arms.

"Oh, thank you," you replied, relinquishing it with a grateful smile. "It's not too heavy, just some essentials I wanted to keep with me."

Hongjoong noticed the way you unconsciously touched the spot behind your ear—where a scent blocker patch would typically be placed. He understood the precaution; many industry professionals, regardless of their status, wore blockers to maintain privacy and professionalism. Still, he couldn't help but feel a twinge of curiosity about what your natural scent might be.

"The others are inside," he said, leading you toward the house. "Fair warning: they're a bit excited about your arrival."

Your stomach fluttered with nervous energy at Hongjoong's words. During your interview, you'd only met three of the eight members. The prospect of meeting the remaining five—all alphas with strong personalities according to everything you'd read and watched about them—was both exciting and intimidating.

"I'm looking forward to meeting everyone," you said, trying to project confidence despite your nerves. "I hope I can live up to expectations."

Hongjoong glanced at you, his expression softening. "Just be yourself. That's what impressed us in the first place."

Before you could respond, the front door of the main house flew open, and Wooyoung burst out, his face lit up with enthusiasm.

"She's here!" he called over his shoulder before bounding down the steps toward you. "Welcome, Y/n! We've been counting down the days!"

You couldn't help but laugh at his exuberance. "Thank you. It's good to see you again, Wooyoung-ssi."

"Just Wooyoung, please," he insisted, falling into step beside you. "We're going to be seeing way too much of each other for formalities."

Inside the house, the remaining members had gathered in the living room, curiosity drawing them together to meet the new assistant who had made such an impression on Hongjoong, San, and Wooyoung. Seonghwa had insisted on cleaning the entire common area that morning, despite their housekeeper having done so just the day before.

"You're fussing," Yeosang had commented quietly, watching Seonghwa rearrange the throw pillows for the third time.

"I'm ensuring we make a good first impression," Seonghwa corrected him, though he couldn't fully explain the strange sense of anticipation he felt. The way Hongjoong and the others had described their immediate connection to you had piqued his interest. Such reactions were typically scent-driven for alphas, yet they'd been clear that you wore blockers.

Now, hearing Wooyoung's excited exclamation from outside, Seonghwa straightened, smoothing down his sweater and assuming the composed posture that had earned him the nickname of "pack mom" among the members.

The front door opened, and all eyes turned to see Hongjoong enter, carrying a box, with you and Wooyoung close behind.

You stepped into the living room and immediately felt the weight of seven pairs of eyes focused intently on you. Despite having seen each of these men countless times in videos and photos, being in their presence was an entirely different experience. The collective alpha energy in the room was palpable, creating an atmosphere that would have been overwhelming if not for the genuine warmth in their expressions.

"Everyone," Hongjoong said, placing your box on a nearby table, "this is Y/n L/n, our new assistant. Y/n, you've already met San and Wooyoung, but let me introduce you to the rest of the team."

One by one, he indicated each member. "Seonghwa, our eldest." A tall, strikingly handsome man with gentle eyes nodded politely. "Yunho." A sunshine smile from the tallest member. "Yeosang." A slight nod from a man with delicate features that belied his alpha status. "Mingi." An enthusiastic wave from a member with a deep voice. "And Jongho, our youngest." The final member, compact but radiating strength, offered a respectful bow.

"It's an honor to meet all of you," you said, bowing formally despite Wooyoung's earlier dismissal of formalities. "I'm looking forward to working with you and supporting your schedules and activities."

Seonghwa found himself unable to look away from you. The moment you'd walked into the room, something had shifted in the atmosphere—a subtle change that his alpha senses detected immediately. Despite not being able to catch your scent through the blockers you wore, he felt an inexplicable draw toward your presence. It was unlike anything he'd experienced before, a strange mixture of protectiveness and recognition that made no logical sense.

Beside him, he could sense similar reactions from the other members who hadn't met you yet. Yunho was practically vibrating with friendly energy, while even the typically reserved Yeosang seemed unusually attentive. Jongho's posture had subtly straightened, his eyes tracking your movements with curious intensity.

"We're glad to have you join us," Seonghwa said, stepping forward to properly welcome you. "I hope the guys didn't overwhelm you during your interview."

"Not at all," you replied with a warm smile that sent an unexpected wave of satisfaction through him. "Everyone has been very welcoming."

There was something in your voice, a gentle confidence that immediately put him at ease while simultaneously intriguing him. Now he understood what Hongjoong had tried to explain—there was indeed something special about your presence that transcended typical first impressions.

You found yourself particularly drawn to Seonghwa's calm, composed aura. Where Wooyoung radiated chaotic energy and Hongjoong exuded leadership, Seonghwa projected a nurturing stability that immediately made you feel at ease despite the intimidating circumstances.

"We've prepared a welcome lunch," Seonghwa continued, gesturing toward what you assumed was the direction of the kitchen. "But perhaps you'd like to see the guesthouse first and get settled a bit?"

"That's very thoughtful, thank you," you replied gratefully. The prospect of having a moment to collect yourself before diving into social interaction was appealing. "I would appreciate a few minutes to bring in some essentials."

Yunho immediately stepped forward. "We can help with your moving truck," he offered with an easy smile. "Between the eight of us, we should make quick work of it."

"Oh, you really don't have to—" you began, but were quickly interrupted by multiple voices insisting they wanted to help.

"Consider it part of our welcome," Jongho said, speaking for the first time. His voice was unexpectedly gentle coming from someone with such a strong physical presence.

"Eight alphas with nothing better to do on a Sunday," Mingi added with a grin. "Either we help you move, or Wooyoung convinces us to try another one of his 'genius' prank ideas."

"Hey!" Wooyoung protested, though there was no real offense in his tone.

You couldn't help but laugh, already feeling the tension in your shoulders beginning to ease. "Well, when you put it that way, I'd be grateful for the help."

The next hour passed in a flurry of activity as all eight ATEEZ members helped transport your belongings from the truck to the guesthouse. What should have been a simple moving process quickly evolved into something resembling organized chaos, with good-natured bickering over who would carry what and Seonghwa's increasingly exasperated attempts to direct traffic.

San found himself volunteering for multiple trips, drawn by the opportunity to learn more about you through your possessions. The small collection of books—a mix of business references, fantasy novels, and memoirs—spoke of a curious, multifaceted mind. The carefully packed box of houseplants suggested nurturing tendencies. Each item offered a glimpse into who you were beyond the professional facade.

"You have good taste in music," he commented, noticing your vinyl collection as he placed it carefully on the shelf you'd indicated. "I love this album too."

"Really?" you replied, lighting up with genuine pleasure at the shared interest. "It's one of my favorites. The composition is so layered—you discover something new every time you listen."

San felt a warm satisfaction at having found this connection with you. "Exactly! That's what I always tell Wooyoung, but he doesn't have the patience to listen to anything more than twice."

Your laugh in response sent an unexpected wave of pleasure through him—a reaction so visceral it momentarily caught him off guard.

You were both surprised and touched by how thoughtfully the members handled your belongings. Jongho carefully carried your boxes marked "fragile" as if they contained priceless artifacts rather than simply kitchen dishes. Yeosang, despite his quiet demeanor, took charge of organizing your books and music collection with surprising attention to detail. Mingi enthusiastically placed your plants around the living area, declaring they "improved the energy" of the space.

Even more surprising was how quickly you felt at ease in their presence. Despite being surrounded by eight alpha idols, you found yourself laughing at Wooyoung and San's playful banter, gratefully accepting Seonghwa's practical suggestions for furniture arrangement, and appreciating Hongjoong's careful respect of your space and preferences.

"Where would you like this?" Hongjoong asked, holding up a framed photo of you with who he assumed were your parents.

"On the side table, please," you replied, watching as he placed it carefully on the surface, angling it slightly before stepping back.

"Your parents?" he inquired with gentle curiosity.

You nodded, a fond smile crossing your face. "Yes. They live in Busan now. They're both teachers."

There was something warm in Hongjoong's expression as he regarded the photo. "You have your mother's smile."

The personal observation, delivered with such quiet sincerity, sent an unexpected flutter through your chest. "Thank you. That's what everyone says."

By early afternoon, the moving truck was empty, and your belongings were distributed throughout the guesthouse. What would have taken you the entire day to accomplish on your own had been completed in just over an hour with the enthusiastic help of all eight members.

"I can't thank you all enough," you said sincerely, looking around at your new space, already beginning to feel like home. "You've made this so much easier than I expected."

"That's what pack—I mean, that's what teammates do," Yunho quickly corrected himself, though the slip didn't go unnoticed by the others. There was a moment of awkward silence before Seonghwa smoothly changed the subject.

"The welcome lunch should be ready now," he said. "Unless you'd prefer some time alone to settle in?"

You considered the offer. While part of you did want to begin unpacking and organizing your new space, the genuine warmth and welcome you'd received made you reluctant to cut short this initial bonding time. "Lunch sounds wonderful, thank you."

"Excellent," Seonghwa said with a satisfied smile. "I prepared japchae and bulgogi—I hope that's alright?"

"You cooked?" you asked, both surprised and touched by the gesture.

"Seonghwa-hyung always cooks for special occasions," Jongho explained with a hint of pride in his voice. "And new pack members definitely qualify as special."

"Team members," Hongjoong corrected firmly, giving Jongho a pointed look that made you wonder about the significance of the distinction.

The main house's dining area was impressive—a large table that comfortably seated ten, with expansive windows overlooking the garden. As you took your seat between Yunho and Yeosang, you couldn't help but feel a surreal sense of displacement. Just two weeks ago, you'd been having ramen in your tiny apartment with your roommates. Now, you were sitting at a table with ATEEZ, about to share a meal that Seonghwa had prepared specially to welcome you.

"I should warn you," Yunho said in a conspiratorial whisper, leaning slightly toward you, "once you taste Seonghwa-hyung's cooking, the company cafeteria will never satisfy you again."

You laughed softly. "I'll consider myself warned."

As Seonghwa and Hongjoong brought out the food—far more dishes than you'd expected—the atmosphere around the table was relaxed and welcoming. The members fell into a natural rhythm of conversation, effortlessly including you without making you feel put on the spot.

"So, Y/n," Mingi asked as he passed you a dish, "what made you want to work in the entertainment industry? Specifically with idols?"

Hongjoong found himself particularly interested in your answer to Mingi's question. He'd reviewed your resume thoroughly, noted your previous experience, but the "why" behind your career choices hadn't been something they'd explored deeply in the interview.

He watched as you considered the question thoughtfully before answering, struck by how naturally you fit at their table despite having just met most of them today.

"I've always been drawn to creative environments," you explained, accepting the dish from Mingi with a grateful nod. "There's an energy in the entertainment industry that you don't find anywhere else—this blend of artistic expression and structured business that creates something meaningful."

You paused, wondering how much to reveal. "As for working with idols specifically... I admire the dedication it takes to succeed in this industry. The training, the performances, the constant growth and reinvention. Being able to support that process, even in an administrative capacity, feels fulfilling to me."

Yeosang, who had been quietly observant until now, spoke up. "That's a thoughtful answer. Most people just say they want to be close to celebrities."

You laughed softly. "Well, I won't pretend the opportunity to work with artists I respect isn't exciting. But it's the behind-the-scenes work that actually interests me the most—helping create the structure that allows creativity to flourish."

Hongjoong nodded, a look of approval crossing his face. "That's exactly what we need—someone who understands both sides of the equation."

As the meal progressed, you found yourself relaxing more and more in their company. Despite being surrounded by alpha idols, you felt neither intimidated nor out of place. There was something about their dynamic—the way they interacted with each other and with you—that created a sense of belonging you hadn't anticipated feeling so quickly.

Wooyoung kept you laughing with dramatic stories of their trainee days. Yunho shared his enthusiasm for an online game you also happened to enjoy. Jongho impressed you with his thoughtful questions about your previous work experience. Even the quieter Yeosang offered occasional comments that revealed a sharp wit beneath his reserved exterior.

Throughout it all, you were acutely aware of Hongjoong's attentive presence at the head of the table. Though he didn't dominate the conversation, his subtle guidance of the discussion and the way the others naturally deferred to him in certain moments spoke volumes about his leadership style.

Seonghwa, too, commanded your attention in a different way—his nurturing energy evident in how he ensured everyone's plates and glasses were filled, how he gently steered the conversation when it veered toward topics that might make you uncomfortable as a newcomer.

Seonghwa couldn't explain the satisfaction he felt watching you enjoy the food he'd prepared. Each appreciative comment or pleased expression sent a wave of alpha contentment through him—a primal response to providing for... for what? You weren't pack, weren't family, weren't anything beyond their new employee. And yet, his instincts were responding as if you were something more.

He caught Hongjoong's eye across the table and recognized the same confusing mix of emotions reflected there. Something unspoken passed between them—an acknowledgment that whatever this strange pull was, they both felt it.

"I hope the guesthouse has everything you need," Seonghwa said, turning his attention back to you. "If there's anything missing or anything you'd like changed, please don't hesitate to let us know."

"It's perfect," you assured him with a warm smile that sent another inexplicable wave of pleasure through him. "More than perfect, actually. I still can't believe I get to live there."

"You even have a good view of the pool," San commented with a grin. "You should see how the sunlight hits the water in the late afternoon—it's beautiful."

"Maybe we should have a welcome pool party," Wooyoung suggested enthusiastically.

"We’re in the middle of preparing for a comeback and tour," Jongho pointed out. "Plus it’s barley summer.” 

"Details, details," Wooyoung dismissed with a wave of his hand. "We have a heater for it."

You laughed, the sound light and melodic. "That sounds lovely Wooyoung. I’m not much of a swimmer though, more of a sunbather.” 

"I could teach you," both San and Wooyoung offered simultaneously, then turned to glare at each other as Seonghwa rolled his eyes.

---

After lunch, Hongjoong suggested showing you the office where you'd be primarily working. The others dispersed to various parts of the house, though not without Wooyoung extracting a promise that you'd join them for movie night later if you weren't too tired from moving.

"Don't feel obligated," Hongjoong told you quietly as he led you toward the office. "Wooyoung can be... enthusiastic. But everyone understands if you need time to settle in."

"I appreciate that," you replied, touched by his consideration. "But I think I'd like to join, if that's alright. It seems like a good way to get to know everyone better."

Hongjoong smiled, a glint of approval in his eyes. "It is. Just be prepared—movie selection can get competitive around here."

The office, which you'd briefly seen during your interview, had been thoroughly prepared for your arrival. Someone had placed a small vase of fresh flowers beside the computer.

"Seonghwa's touch," Hongjoong explained, noticing your gaze on the flowers. "He thought it would make the space feel more welcoming."

"That was very thoughtful of him," you said, genuinely moved by the gesture.

Hongjoong showed you the filing system, the scheduling software, and the various communication channels used by the team. Though you'd received preliminary information from Manager Minwoo, having Hongjoong walk you through everything personally made the overwhelming amount of information seem more manageable.

"Your first official day is tomorrow," he reminded you. "Today is just for getting settled. But I thought you might want to see where everything is located."

"I appreciate that," you said gratefully. "It helps to get oriented before diving in."

Hongjoong hesitated, then added, "I've scheduled the first few days to be more training than execution. You'll shadow Manager Minwoo tomorrow, and then gradually take over responsibilities as you become comfortable with them."

The consideration in his planning touched you. "Thank you. That sounds perfect."

---

As evening approached, you took some time alone in the guesthouse to unpack essentials and freshen up before the movie night. You'd just finished arranging your toiletries in the bathroom when there was a knock at your door.

Opening it, you found Seonghwa standing there with a small basket in his hands.

"I thought you might not have had time to go grocery shopping yet," he explained, holding out the basket which contained fresh fruit, some snacks, a carton of milk, and a few other breakfast essentials. "Just to tide you over until you can stock your kitchen properly."

The thoughtful gesture caught you off guard. "That's so kind of you, Seonghwa-ssi. Thank you."

"Just Seonghwa is fine," he said with a gentle smile. "And it's no trouble. I remember how chaotic my first day moving in was."

As you accepted the basket, your fingers briefly brushed against his. Despite the scent blocker preventing any pheromone detection, you felt a strange electric sensation at the contact—a momentary connection that seemed to surprise Seonghwa as much as it did you, judging by the slight widening of his eyes.

He recovered quickly, however. "Movie night starts in about thirty minutes in the main living room, if you're still planning to join us."

"I'll be there," you promised, still feeling slightly off-balance from whatever had just passed between you.

With a polite nod, Seonghwa turned to leave, then paused. "Y/n," he said, turning back slightly. "I'm glad you're here. I think you're going to be good for the team."

Before you could respond, he continued on his way, leaving you standing in the doorway with the basket in your hands and a strange warmth spreading through your chest.

The main living room had been transformed for movie night. The large sectional sofa was now covered in blankets and pillows, with additional cushions arranged on the floor. The impressive entertainment system was queued up, and various snacks and drinks covered the coffee table.

"Y/nnie!" Wooyoung exclaimed when you entered, patting the space beside him. "We saved you a seat."

"Don't feel obligated," Yeosang said quietly from a nearby armchair. "There are other options if you prefer."

You smiled at the consideration, opting for a spot on the sofa between Yunho and Hongjoong—close enough to be sociable but not directly next to the exuberant Wooyoung, who pouted briefly before bouncing back.

"We're still debating the movie," Hongjoong explained as you settled in. "It's between an action thriller Mingi wants to see and a new fantasy film Yunho's been recommending."

"What about you?" San asked, genuinely curious about your preference. "Any vote to break the tie?"

You considered for a moment. "I'm fine with either, but I do enjoy fantasy if it's well done."

Yunho pumped his fist in victory while Mingi groaned dramatically. "Next time, we're watching my pick," he insisted, though there was no real frustration in his tone.

As the movie began, you couldn't help but marvel at how quickly you'd been included in their ritual, as if you'd always been a part of it. The easy camaraderie, the playful bickering over snacks, the comfortable silence that fell as everyone became engrossed in the story—it all felt surprisingly natural.

Halfway through the film, you became aware of a subtle warmth beside you. Hongjoong had shifted slightly closer, though still maintaining a respectful distance. There was something comforting about his proximity—a sense of security that made you sink a little deeper into the couch, your tension from the busy day finally beginning to dissipate.

Across the room, Seonghwa watched this development with thoughtful eyes, noting the way Hongjoong's typically alert posture had relaxed in your presence. Something was definitely happening here—something none of them fully understood yet, but that all of them seemed to be feeling in their own ways.

As the movie reached its climax, you stifled a yawn, the exhaustion of moving day finally catching up with you. Hongjoong noticed immediately.

"You've had a long day," he said quietly, his voice pitched so only you could hear. "Feel free to head back to the guesthouse whenever you need to. No one will be offended."

The consideration in his words warmed you. "Thank you. I think I'll stay until the end, though. I'm enjoying the film."

What you didn't say was that you were also enjoying the company—this unexpected sense of belonging that had developed over the course of a single day. Despite the challenges that surely lay ahead—maintaining professional boundaries, keeping your omega status concealed, navigating the complex dynamics of eight alpha personalities—in this moment, you felt that you'd made the right decision in accepting this position.

As the credits rolled on the movie, you stifled another yawn, the exhaustion of moving day finally catching up with you. Though you were enjoying the company, your eyelids had grown increasingly heavy throughout the last thirty minutes of the film.

"I think I should call it a night," you said, reluctantly rising from your comfortable spot on the sofa. "Thank you all for such a warm welcome today. I really appreciate everything you've done to help me settle in."

"It was our pleasure," Seonghwa responded with a gentle smile. "Get some rest. Tomorrow will be a busy day."

"Do you want someone to walk you back to the guesthouse?" San offered immediately, already half-rising from his seat.

You smiled but shook your head. "That's very kind, but it's just across the garden. I'll be fine."

"The path lights are on a timer," Hongjoong informed you. "They should stay lit until you're inside. If you need anything at all during the night, don't hesitate to call or text any of us."

The protectiveness in his tone sent a small flutter through your chest. "Thank you. Goodnight, everyone."

A chorus of "goodnight" and "sleep well" followed you as you made your way to the door. You could feel multiple pairs of eyes on your back as you departed, but it didn't feel uncomfortable—just attentive in a way you weren't quite used to yet.

The night air was cool against your skin as you walked the short path back to the guesthouse. True to Hongjoong's word, the garden lights illuminated your way, casting a gentle glow that transformed the landscape into something almost magical. In the distance, the Seoul skyline twinkled, a reminder of the city beyond this peaceful oasis.

Once inside your new home, you went through your nighttime routine on autopilot, too tired to unpack anything beyond the essentials. As you carefully removed your scent blocker patch and cleaned the area behind your ear, you couldn't help but reflect on the day's events.

Eight alphas had welcomed you into their space with a warmth and ease that defied your expectations. Despite your precautions, despite your carefully maintained professional boundaries, something about being with them had felt inexplicably right. There was a connection there that you couldn't explain—something that went beyond the typical dynamics of a workplace relationship.

"Don't read too much into it," you murmured to yourself as you applied a fresh blocker patch. "They're just being nice to their new assistant."

But as you finally slipped into bed, your last conscious thought was that there seemed to be something more at play—something neither you nor they fully understood yet.

---

Back in the main house, the eight members of ATEEZ remained in the living room long after you had departed. An unusual silence had fallen over the group, each lost in their own thoughts about the newest addition to their household.

Hongjoong was the first to speak, his voice thoughtful. "So... what does everyone think of Y/n?"

The question hung in the air for a moment before Wooyoung broke into a wide grin. "I told you all she was special! Did you see how quickly she fit in? It's like she's always been here."

San nodded in agreement. "There's something about her... I can't explain it. When she's in the room, I just feel more... I don't know, centered?"

"I noticed that too," Yunho admitted, looking slightly confused by his own reaction. "I only met her today, but I already feel this weird need to make sure she's comfortable and happy. Is that strange?"

Jongho, typically the most reserved of the group when it came to expressing feelings, shifted in his seat. "It's not just you. I felt it too. There's something... familiar about her presence."

Yeosang, who had been quietly observing as usual, leaned forward. "It's unusual for all of us to have such a similar reaction to someone, especially when we can't detect her scent through the blockers." His brow furrowed slightly. "Has anyone else noticed that we're responding to her almost as if..."

"As if she's pack," Seonghwa finished for him, voicing what several of them had been thinking but hesitant to say aloud. "Even though she's just our assistant."

Hongjoong ran a hand through his hair, processing the implications of what they were all describing. "I felt it during her interview. That's why I was so certain she was the right choice, even beyond her qualifications. Something about her just... resonates."

"I'm in love," Mingi declared dramatically, flopping backward onto the couch and throwing an arm over his face. "I'm completely, utterly in love."

Wooyoung pointed at him triumphantly. "See! That's exactly what I said two weeks ago! And you all thought I was exaggerating!"

Seonghwa rolled his eyes, though there was no real annoyance in the gesture. "You're both being ridiculous. You barely know her."

"And yet," Mingi countered, sitting up to look at Seonghwa directly, "you can't deny you feel it too. I saw how attentive you were at dinner, hyung. You barely took your eyes off her."

A faint flush colored Seonghwa's cheeks. "I was being a good host," he defended, though his tone lacked conviction. After a moment, he sighed. "Fine. Yes, there's... something. I don't know what it is, but I felt it the moment she walked in."

"Do you think she's an omega?" Jongho suggested thoughtfully. "Maybe her blockers aren't completely effective, and we're picking up subtle cues?"

San shook his head. "Those high-grade blockers are pretty effective. Besides, we've been around plenty of omegas before and never had this kind of collective response."

"What about a beta?" Yunho offered.

"Same issue," Hongjoong said, his brow furrowed in concentration. "We've never reacted this way to anyone, regardless of their status."

Yeosang, who had been quietly contemplative, finally spoke up. "There's another theory...fated mate to the pack."

The room fell silent, all eyes turning to him.

"Fated mates..to the pack? That’s just stories," Wooyoung objected, though he seemed more intrigued than dismissive. "Fairy tales parents tell pups."

"Most legends have some basis in reality," Yeosang countered.

"But fated mates are rare," Jongho pointed out. "And usually, it's between two people, not... eight and one."

Seonghwa's expression became thoughtful. "There are some historical accounts of pack fated mates—one individual destined to bond with an entire pack rather than a single alpha or omega."

Hongjoong's eyes widened slightly before he shook his head dismissively. "Let's not get carried away here. Pack fated mate? We just met her. This is just the excitement of meeting someone new who happens to be competent, professional, and..." he hesitated, "...beautiful."

"Ooooooh," Wooyoung immediately pounced, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. "You think our new assistant is beautiful? How scandalous, Captain!"

Hongjoong glared at him, though a hint of color rose in his cheeks. "Go to bed, Wooyoung."

"But it's only—"

"Now," Hongjoong insisted, pointing dramatically toward the hallway, though there was no real heat behind the command.

Wooyoung's grin only widened. "You didn't deny it."

Hongjoong rolled his eyes. "She is objectively attractive. That's not the point. The point is that we're all getting ahead of ourselves with these fated mate theories when the simplest explanation is that we've found an assistant who fits well with our team dynamics."

"Then why did we all feel it so strongly?" San asked, genuinely curious. "I've never had that kind of immediate connection with anyone before."

"Nor have I," Yeosang added quietly.

Hongjoong sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Look, I felt it too. I'm not denying that there's... something. I just think we need to be rational about this. Fated mate to a pack is the stuff of legends, and we're talking about real life here."

Yunho frowned slightly. "Should we ask her if she is feeling the same thing?"

"Absolutely not," Hongjoong said firmly, shifting into his leader role. "First of all, we don't know what this is exactly. And second, she just started working with us today. The last thing she needs is eight alphas overwhelming her with intense feelings based on a connection we can't even properly explain ourselves."

Seonghwa nodded in agreement. "Hongjoong's right. Whatever this is, we need to proceed carefully. Y/n is here as our assistant. We need to respect that professional relationship first and foremost."

"So what do we do?" Wooyoung asked, looking uncharacteristically serious. "Just pretend we don't feel anything unusual?"

"No," Hongjoong replied after a moment of consideration. "We acknowledge that there's something special about her presence in our pack—"

"Team," Seonghwa corrected gently. "She's part of our team, not officially pack. Not yet, anyway."

Hongjoong nodded, accepting the correction. "In our team. But we don't pressure her or make her uncomfortable. We give her space to settle into her role, and we observe. There's no need to rush anything."

"What if she doesn't feel it?" Jongho asked quietly, voicing the concern that had begun to form in several of their minds. "What if it's just us?"

Seonghwa's expression softened. "Then we accept that and continue to value her as our assistant and hopefully, our friend. Connection or not, Y/n deserves to be treated with respect and given the freedom to choose her own path."

The others nodded in agreement, though there was a noticeable tension in the air—a mixture of excitement at the possibility and anxiety about the uncertainty.

"For now," Hongjoong concluded, "we focus on making her comfortable in her new role. We support her, we welcome her, but we don't overwhelm her. Agreed?"

Murmurs of agreement came from around the room, though Wooyoung couldn't resist adding, "But I still get to be friendly, right? That's just who I am."

Seonghwa rolled his eyes fondly. "Yes, Wooyoung, you can be friendly. Just don't be... too Wooyoung."

"I don't know what that means, but I'm choosing to be offended," Wooyoung replied with a dramatic pout that quickly dissolved into a grin.

The tension broken, conversation gradually shifted to other topics, though thoughts of you remained at the forefront of each member's mind. Whatever this connection was—whether fated mate bond or simply an unusual team dynamic—it was clear that your arrival had shifted something fundamental in the ATEEZ household.

---

In the guesthouse, you stirred in your sleep, turning onto your side as a strange dream played through your mind:

With purple eyes, you purred as you made a nest in your room made up of hoodies, blankets and pillows. Eight distinct scents surrounded you—sandalwood and ocean breeze, vanilla and cedarwood, citrus and clean linen, light musk and cherry blossoms, cinnamon and dark chocolate, earthy soil and pine, bergamot and ginger, fresh apples and mint—creating a harmonious blend that felt like... home. 

Your eyes shot open as you woke up, your hand immediately going to touch the blocker patch behind your ear to confirm it was still in its place.

You haven’t made a nest or fully purred in years. And you definitely have never had omega eyes as you did it. 

Shaking the dream from your mind, you lay back down to sleep, tomorrow would bring your first official day as ATEEZ's assistant, with all the professional challenges that entailed.

Next>>

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[starkenobi]

HI!! I'm seated for your the pitt avengers crossover!!!!!!!!!1 while we wait, can I ask for some jack abbot x reader drabble? Maybe reader is a firefighter and flirts with him? Do it as you wish, just happy if you do it!!!1

masterlist

Hello, honey! As a thank you for your support, here's a little something. 💜

pairing: Jack Abbot x firefighter!reader

summary: it was supposed to be just a simple rescue, but some casualties force the fire crew to make a stop at the Pitt.

warnings: reader is a worried bean, but no description of injuries or medical procedures.

It was supposed to be just a simple rescue, but things got out of control as quickly as the fire. Two of her men got injured, not for lack of attention but for reasons beyond control. Like a broken fire hydrant and explosion out of nowhere.

The sirens seemed louder than usual, but maybe it was because she wasn't used to riding in the ambulance. She looked at Eddie, the rookie of the firehouse, still unconscious on the stretcher. Carlos, sitting beside her, was conscious but got injured pretty badly too.

She tried not to blame herself. At least she reacted quickly and took the lead in rescuing Eddie, Carlos following her steps as her right-hand. It was hard not to keep thinking about the what ifs, Eddie was her responsibility as the rookie. The whole team was. It was difficult not to feel like she disappointed them.

"We're here, lieutenant." one of the emts said.

And just like that, Eddie was taken by the ER nurses, and then she was being ushered in by the emt. She could still hear the shrill of sirens, looking dazedly at the ambulance to check, but her attention quickly turned to the huge emergency room when someone yelled her name.

Dana.

Oh, right. The Pitt was the nearest hospital.

"Honey, are you with me?" Dana asked, a frown on her face. She nodded, blinking a few times to focus on Dana. "Robby's taking care of your boy. Have you been checked?"

Her eyes followed the movements of nurses and residents, and it didn't take long to find Robby in the center leading the treatment. Averting her eyes off the scene, she found Carlos being attended too. She took a deep breath and collapsed into the chair that Dana had pulled out for her to sit.

"I'm fine." She finally answered, opening her coat while trying to regain control now that the adrenaline was wearing off. "I barely got a scratch."

"You're worse than Abbot." Dana lamented, getting a weak chuckled off her. "Oh, speaking of the devil. Ei, Abbot, this one here's for you!"

Before she could even grasp Dana's words, Jack Abbot was standing in front of her. Backpack forgotten on the chair next to her. His hands held her chin, turning it carefully from side to side, checking for injuries. Attentive eyes hypnotizing her for a brief moment.

"C'mon, sweetheart." Jack urged, a soft murmur. He turned to the charge nurse, nodding. "I'll take from here, Dana."

He didn't wait for any reaction, holding her by the shoulders, he took her to a room. Closing the curtain to give them privacy, Jack helped her take off her coat and made her sit on the gurney.

"Your coat looks like shit, sweetheart." Jack said, a frown on his face. He came closer, deft hands moving around her body looking for any sign of injury. "No burns, but you have some scratches and a cut on your face. Did you inhale smoke?"

"I'm fine, but you can always kiss it better, y'know?" She retorted with a sigh, closing her eyes when she felt his lips on the top of her head. "Not what I meant."

"I spoil you too much," he fires back. Stepping away briefly to get the material needed to patch her up, he pulled the chair and sat between her legs. "You saved that boy's life. He's here thanks to your quick response."

"It could be worse," she said – a little statement she always repeated to herself in difficult times. Opening her eyes, she stared at Jack in silence, enjoining the peaceful moment and support she was having with him. She was glad that, at least, he was there with her.

"What?"

"Breakfast tomorrow?" was what she said out loud instead, offering him a tired smile.

Jack arched a brow, his lips automatically matching her smile. "Sure, I'll bring your favorite to your place."

After another momet of comfortable silence as he finished his work, she said a quietly thank you that meant so many things she couldn't express out loud. And Jack answered with a kiss on her lips, a promise that it was just another day and everything was going to be alright.

comments, likes and reblogs are welcome and appreciated! thank you for reading and supporting my writing 💜

[wild-jackalope]

Ahhh your resent fix is amazing and I'm in love with it ❤️😭 your so talented 😍 would you do a HC with that fic like how was marriage life, any mini story with Mark being a dad and reader teaching him more human things I'm a sucker for stories like that 🥹

summary :: headcanons of your marriage with Viltrumite Mark, from this oneshot

warning :: general manipulation, having a child together, sex after marriage, home life with your superhero husband, kinda smut, lots of sex, angst, fem reader, Mark is quite literally his Dad, not 100% proof read

note :: so glad you asked for this because I really wanted to expand on this version of Mark a little more

★ Mark was far from the perfect partner, but he wasn’t the worst either.

freshly moved in

★ For one, he was surprisingly clean. Your home rarely saw a mess, mainly due to his occasional absences. When he was home, he folded his clothes neatly instead of tossing them about. He'd stack the dish washer after you made dinner. Which, granted, you had to teach him, but it stuck. He took pride in keeping your home tidy.

★ He was basically your personal heater during the cold months. He would wrap you up in his warm limbs and shielding you from the chill outside— but come summer, he was also your personal enemy. Mark loved to cuddle you, no matter the temperature. Some mornings you’d wake up to sticky skin, hair damp against your neck and your husband wrapped around you like burning rope, unwilling to let go.

★ He slowly began to melts into your affection, parting from his rigidness into your arms. It was a gradual change, but prominent. The Mark you first knew wouldn’t have dared to hug you back. He held you like he was trying to commit your shape to memory, his chest solid and warm against your squished body until you had to gently push at his shoulders to ease him off you.

★ You saved a lot of money on travelling expenses. No need for a thousand dollar plane ticket to see the world when your boyfriend's arms were just as—if not more—comfortable. “Rome tonight?” He’d ask, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “I was thinking Turkey,” you’d respond.

★ Sex was a given constant. Once Mark finally moved in, it was practically every night—unless he came home too late into the night, or groaning from injuries sustained from missions. But when it happened it was like nothing you'd experienced with any other partner. Somehow, it had only gotten better over time as you both learned each other's bodies like your own.

★ The only thing he failed to grasp was sharing. The words “Mark, you can’t use that, it’s mine.” Never seemed to reach him. You’d groggily walk into the bathroom, bump his hip lightly before rubbing your eyes only to notice he was using your toothbrush. In reality, you didn’t care too much—after all, you two swapped spit almost every night— but it was more about the principle.

★ You had learned many things about him, mainly how to treat Viltrumite wounds. He would fly into your home with a myriad of injuries: sometimes light bruises, other times deep, angry gashes. Over time, you discovered that cold water and ice helped his healing along. So you kept a basin ready, towels stacked, and your hands steady—even when your heart wasn’t.

★ During lazy mornings, you’d wake up to him hovering over you. His brown eyes laxly gazing at your figure waking from your peaceful slumber. Was it romantic? Yes, but also startling.

★ The first time he said "I love you," was after a particularly rough fight. You'd patched up his wounds and pressed a longing kiss to his lips, slow and aching. The words didn't startle you, because it had felt as natural as hearing his heartbeat. But when you pulled back to look at him, you saw it in his eyes—that it had startled him.

fiancée

★ The proposal wasn’t some exquisite dream where he got on one knee as the sun setting behind him, asking you those three wonderful words. No— it was actually more of a battle. “Marriage.” He said bluntly, arm still lazily holding your bare waist, anchoring you to his chest. You blinked, an emotional shiver rising up your spine. “You want to get married?” “Yes.” Your breath caught, and you ran a hand through your hair. “Okay, well, you need a ring. Uhm, you need to get down on one knee—” “Why would I kneel to you?” He asked, suddenly rising from the bed to peer down at you. “To show devotion, I think," you said carefully. “Bending a knee is a sign of submission,” Mark corrected, his tone clipped with Viltrumite distaste. You grinned, tilting your head to the side, "and what, you'd never submit to me?" "No." You sat up with him, trailing a fingernail across his chest just like you did most nights before initiating sex. His body loosened, his eyes lidding as he leaned in to kiss you. "Get on one knee," you whispered, "and ask me to marry you." He huffed out something like a laugh—amused, a little exasperated—but still obeyed. Sliding off the bed, he dropped to one knee, took your chin between his fingers, and said: “Will you marry me?”

★ Mark never quite fixed his jealously issues. They had only been tamed by the looming label of husband and wife. He still stared with a dark, pointed gaze at people who looked at you in a way he deemed incorrect. You knew the look well. You would just tug his arm, fingers curling around his bicep. The grounding touch was usually enough to pull him from whatever scenario he'd imagined for them.

★ Something he never entirely understood was lingerie—at first. He was the type of man that wouldn't blink at the most delicate, lacy set, just peel it off you. It wasn’t until one night, when you sighed at his undressing and looked away from him that he asked why you were being huffy, that you explained: “I wore this for you, Mark, so you’d find me sexy.” He finally saw the appeal. The nights after that, he'd let his fingers run over the bumpy lace, watching the way you presented yourself and the intent behind it. After all, what’s more sexy than your partner wrapping their body just for you?

★ He never cared for all the planning that went into the wedding. Why not elope and have it done with? Bachelor parties, not seeing the bride before the wedding—he saw the traditions as useless. That they only served to distract him from the real reason of the union, to be with you. Everything else felt like noise.

★ A honeymoon, though? Now was something that enticed him. A week abroad, just the two of you doing nothing but spending time together, eating, talking, fucking and celebrating. He would surely be telling Cecil to fuck off if he asked for any favours during that week.

husband

★ He was not a fan of wedding rings, stating that it would be inevitably broken during one of his fights. But he was quickly swayed when you said “This ring is a promise, Mark, that we’ll stay together through anything,” and from then on he was sure to keep it in tact.

★ Occasionally, when you were dead asleep beside him, Mark would mutter confessions of his home planet. But he never told you anything of his home when you were awake.

★ Suddenly, your name got replaced with "My wife." You were always introduced proudly as his wife, to friends and other heroes whenever they asked Mark about his personal life. Even to family members, Mark would call you his wife, which some found a little annoying. But to him, it was a title of honour.

★ You came to learn he showed his anger through silence, the kind that manifests in tense jaws, clenched fists and intense stares at nothing specifically. Communication— even after years on earth— was something he never figured out. He never yelled, just kept things from you.

★ He never really grasped the concept of casual affection. Kisses would divulge into your back pressed against a cold wall, his hand keeping your jaw slack whilst memorising the cave of your mouth. As much as you loved to have a man utterly whipped by you, having quickies every morning because you gave his a goodbye peck often made you late for work.

★ Honestly, your relationship remained just as perfect as it was before you two tied the knot. Only now, it was forever secured in the title of husband and wife.

father

★ When you fell pregnant, it’s was a surprise to say the least— a stupid surprise considering you two would have sex all the time— but a surprise nonetheless.

★ You cried into him, unable to stop the utter flood of emotions. He was unable to react himself, cradling your face and attempting to discern if you were frightened or overjoyed. He could barely see past the tears in your eyes, so he just held you and allowed you to soak the front of his shirt.

★ When your baby bump became prominent, he hovered, literally. Always doing house tasks before you could and never allowing you to pick things up from the floor.

★ Never, in your years together, had you ever seen Mark shed tears—until he held his newborn daughter. She was quiet, having already been soothed by feeling your skin against her. Gently, he peeled back the blanket swaddling her and offered her his finger. Her minuscule hand closed around it without hesitation. That had been the final chink in his armour and the tears came.

★ You thought because you traveled the world with Mark, you’d seen all of life’s most beautiful sights. Golden sun rises in Greece, the glittering coasts of Australia, the hushed snowfall in England. But one late morning, you stepped into your shared bedroom and saw them: both him and your little girl asleep, her tiny body on his chest, rising and falling with his steady breaths. You decided that was it. The most beautiful thing you’d seen.

★ He would often just watch the two of you. The way your fingers would delicately swipe her baby-hairs away from her little face, the way you'd fuss over her even when she slept—always tucking her blanket tight to keep in her warm. You never noticed his gaze fixed on you but he could stare forever, struck by your combined love given form.

★ The moments you never wished to end were the ones where Mark held you from behind, both of you watching your daughter feed—his arms around you, your arms around her, all of you held in love.

★ He hardly slept in the weeks after her birth. Not because of her cries at night, but to watch over you. The way your fingers rested gently over her tiny chest, your sleeping breath in time with her's, soothed to sleep by one another's heartbeats.

★ He had been a beautiful father, kind, warm, steady.

and yet…

Yet.

Your daughter stirred painfully from her death-like sleep. Her lashes rising then closing in quick flutters, adjusting to the bright, white hospital lights. You—broken by shame, guilt and something darker—had been too lost in the unending chasm of your mind, crushed between memories and what ifs to notice. Not until the hand held by your own began to twitch.

You rose, as if her sign of wake brought life into your zombified mind.

She tried to speak— her jaw cracked, purple with bruises, too swollen with internal bleeding to move. Through her dry voice, you knew she was attempting to call for you— for Mum.

“Don’t try to talk,” you gently hushed, "you're going to be okay." Your hand reached her dishevelled black hair, gliding over it in a soothing motion that had become second nature during your seventeen years of motherhood.

Her hollow gaze drifted down to her body. Both her legs and pelvis were locked in a correcting plaster elevated by two slings. Her left arm hung too, bruised fingers peaking from the thick white cast. Her right arm, the only one left, was wrapped tightly in a gauze and only punished her with pain when she attempted to lift it.

Her horrified eyes then returned to you.

You smiled at her. Though your red, puffy eyes betrayed you. "You're safe now, it's all over." You took a nearby cup of water and brought the straw to her lips. "Here, drink."

She did—barely, coughing at the strain the liquid caused her raw throat.

"I'm so proud of you." You said, forcing the cancer rising up your throat to free your words of any trembling.

Wordlessly, she rejected your touch, turning her head away from your hand. Silent tears streaming down her face.

Your hand dropped, alongside your heart. “I’ll... let you rest.” You pressed a gentle kiss to her feverish temple, I love you so much, the kiss said.

And then you left.

The moment the door shut behind you, you collapsed—body wracked with sobs that tore from your chest. It felt as though your soul had split into two, one half with your daughter and her terrible wounds, the other, gone. With Mark.

You buried your face in your hands and for the first time since you found out Mark killed the guardians, you finally let yourself cry like a powerless parent who couldn’t protect their own child.

[malereadermaniac]

૮ • ﻌ - ა Moon Cycles ~ Alpha!Bokuto x Omega!Male!Reader

Word Count: 2.7k

Plot: 1 fic split into two! p1: Bokuto's ruts & p2: Your heats

Warnings: Nsfw / MDNI ~ amab m!reader / FDNI

Bokuto's Rut(s):

Entering your apartment, all of your senses were immediately overwhelmed and dominated by your alpha's intoxicating pheromones making every particle of air in your apartment feel heavy and thick. Luckily, you were smart enough to have placed scent patches over your scent glands before going home to an alpha who had to take the day off due to his rut; preventing Bokuto's musky scent of sweat and leather from triggering your own heat early, however that didn't prevent the inhalation of his strong scent, which had already started to make you feel woozy. Quickly throwing your keys onto the counter and stripping off your jacket, you make your way urgently towards the bedroom - your inner omega screaming to aid your poor, hormone-ridden alpha.

The moment you opened the door, the intensity of your Alpha's pheromones had doubled, forcing a blush to hit your face and your blood to rush to certain areas. Your eyes darted to the naked volleyball player on your bed, a discarded and leaking fleshlight tossed beside him while the muscular man lay on the bed in a starfish position; his body sweating profusely as the alpha was panting, lightly pink in the face. It didn't take long for Bokuto to notice you, or rather your comforting scent which you hadn't even noticed you were releasing. You smiled at your exhausted-looking alpha as he perked his body up, using his built arms as leverage to hold him up, a lovestruck yet lustful smile on his face; the alpha's veiny, hard dick twitching at the sight of you.

You both let instinct drive you to the position you were now in, your bottom half completely naked with your dress shirt unbuttoned, your smaller body laying on top of Bokuto's, your body cooling off the Alpha who had been boiling alive since this morning. The usually strong and effortlessly dominant alpha was reduced to a trembling, hot mess as the pit in his stomach was eating away at him, his eyes begging you to do something instead of his mouth; as the only words he was capable of barely saying were "O-mega", "Fuu-ck" and "Good". You gently ran your hands over Bokuto's muscular, olive body, soothing him as you grind your dick against his much larger one - The alpha groans as his masculine, rough hands are almost magnetically pulled towards your soft ass, gripping at the plush skin and pushing you to grind against him harder; desperate for any form of pleasure from the omega he had been craving all day, his omega.

"Shhhh... I'm here, alpha" you coo as you gently lick at Bokuto's very wet scent gland when the man tries (and fails) to string a sentence together, too overwhelmed by the burn of his rut.

The sounds that erupted out of Bokuto when you re-adjusted so that your slick-leaking ass was grinding against his alphan cock were to die for. Along with the usually spikey hair of your alpha, which was now drenched in sweat and sticking to his forehead, and his panting, sexy face, the sight was heavenly.

Again, you're ever so glad for that scent patch on you, because you get to consciously remember Bokuto's ruts, and boy were you lucky to experience them. The first round is always the most effort for you, the alpha worn down by his useless attempts at pleasuring himself throughout the day, along with his intense rut, having tired him out; meaning that you have to do all the work for your cute alpha as to not keep him in discomfort any longer. Riding him was always fun though, despite how tiring it could get; Bokuto's firm grip on your ass and waist grounded you and him as you ride his massive cock like no tomorrow, the veiny thing pounding against your prostate and kissing your walls so nicely as your dick bounces onto Bokuto's abs - you give him quite the show, pity he barely ever remembers it after his cycle. After the alpha finally knots your tightening hole, his body finally starts to cool down, the gnawing ache in his stomach dissipating as he locks his body within yours and absolutely fills you with his thick, fertile cum - but that's just the start of his rut, not only do you have more rounds that day, but you have an average 4 more days left in the week! Nevertheless, after Bokuto falls asleep and finally slips out of you, you use up the rest of your energy to make the starving alpha something to eat; your silly alpha having spent the day trying to relieve his rut rather than eating! After the Alpha wakes up conscious and digs into whatever delicious meal you'd prepared for him, that's when the roles reverse. The rest of the rounds that night pretty much go the same, the alpha manhandling you into multiple different positions as you let Bokuto fuck you absolutely senseless, his knot having locked the two of you together at least 4 more times that night alone and your neck and body looking like they've been mauled by a dog from the number of lovebites and hickeys all over you.

short Bokuto-rut headcannons:

His nests are made really poorly (like most alpha's are), just a shit ton of your clothing spread around the bed with various bodily fluids soaking them - not even a blanket in sight... Typical of alphas, only thinking of what gratifies them rather than their comfort or their omega's comfort!

Bokuto's a real kisser during his ruts as well. He's a clingy alpha who just wants to show his love for you, and that love is multiplied by 100 when lust is mixed into it! That man will be thrusting into you while you're in an uncomfortable mating press with cum on your face and he will still kiss you deeply with tongue - you can't be mad though, it is quite sweet, and it relaxes your body, which is very needed after what this flexible man puts you through during his cycle!

Breeding. Kink. Need I say more? Yes I do. Of course, all alphas want to breed their omega, especially during their rut. But holy shit does Bokuto not stop mentioning it during his - whether he's doing the deep and whispers in your ear "Gonna get you full of my pups, pretty boy", or roaring "Take my fucking cum, babe! GET FUCKIN KNOCKED UP" as he's knotting you, or even during aftercare as the man rubs your abdomen gently and blurts out baby names; Bokuto is always mentioning knocking you up

Near the end of his Rut, Bokuto likes nothing more than laying you in his shitty nest and eating you out for hours... His thick tongue making you cum as he devours plenty of the tasty slick you just keep on producing

Oh and after his rut? Bokuto is literally the perfect boyfriend, more than he already is! Need an icepack? Done. Food? He's whipping ten meals up in the kitchen. The volleyball player apologises if he was too rough as he kisses you gently and gives you a massage. And when this man returns to practice, fucking hell does he look like he's glowing, professing to everyone how he has the best omega in the world which he loves more than anything (and gloating that he gets the best action ever, but he doesn't mention that part)

Your Heat(s):

Bokuto can always tell when you're in pre-heat, he knows his omega too well, so he's already taken the week off work even though you deny the fact that you're going into heat - despite your constant, slightly flushed complexion and your lack of control over your pheromone. So when you start to nest, Bokuto is ready to go! That man has breakfast bars and 6 bottles of water ready on your nightstands and has started releasing a comforting scent of leather and musk before you even start to call for him!

Once the muscular alpha hears your whiny call for him, Bokuto gets instantly hard; making his way towards your shared room as he struggles to strip his joggers and shirt while walking. But just because the man is eager to pleasure you until you pass out, that doesn't mean he wants to rush things - and that includes his teasing.

"Aw... are you okay, baby? What do you need?" The volleyball player would coo at you in a very slightly mocking tone as he makes his way towards your nest. Bokuto would gently hold your searing face in his huge hand and caress your cheek with his thumb as he smiles at your pout, holding back a laugh.

"Shut up... please just hurryy~" You whine, reaching out to touch your alpha, rubbing your hand down his naked abs and towards his cock which was standing loud and proud.

After a little more teasing, Bokuto decides to show mercy, noticing how your panting increases in pace, how your scent of sweet, intoxicating caramel fills the room, and how your knees tremble on the bed as slick gushes out of your hole. Because of your rapturous heat, your vision is hazy and time slows down yet speeds up at the same time, so you had really no clue as to how you ended up with your legs up on Bokuto's broad, muscular shoulders, his dick already in you and moans spewing out of your mouth as if you were in pain. But you sure as hell didn't mind that, as long as your alpha was soothing the pain searing across your body and making you feel pleasure beyond that of this world - you really couldn't give a fuck if you knew what was happening or not.

Sweat, musk, cum and a harmonious mix of your pheromones and Bokuto's filled the air, adjacent to the sounds of sweaty skin slapping against sweaty skin. All that was coming out of your mouth were the words "Alpha" or "Good" or "Yes" along with plenty of different whines, moans, and whimpers which sounded straight-up pornographic, and your sounds worked beautifully well with Bokuto's loud roars of pleasure and groans and moans - his dirty talk on another level as he drills his dick into you in missionary. After making your vision go white, your infertile cum shooting all over your body and Bokuto's rock-hard abs, your alpha ensured that you caught your breath and forced you to drink some water - the sweet, caring man not even giving a shit about the fact that his dick was still hard as shit and that he hadn't cum yet; which was a surprise by the fact that your sloppily, slicked-up hole, tight, boiling walls and sexy moans and look was usually a cocktail for disaster with Bokuto. But Bokuto would experience the immense pleasure of knotting an omega in your next round - and not just an omega, but you, his bonded, mated omega which he loved more than life itself.

With that said, once you had caught your breath and the heat began to pool in your stomach once more, Bokuto took that as a sign to use his rough, massive hands to re-position you. With your arms hugging one of the many pillows in your nest and your chin resting on it, Bokuto was kneeling on the bed behind you; both of his massive arms wrapped around your waist as he pounded into you like a fucking animal. With your knees spread and your back arching downwards towards the bed as Bokuto's fat dick drilled against your pleasure spot, you moaned and cried out your alpha's name like a mantra - your dick dangling below you, your dickhead lightly rubbing against the best, sending shivers down your spine. All you could hear were Bokuto's rough grunts and moans of your name in your ear along with his hips smacking against your plump ass in the background - your voice raspy and airy from how much you had been using it. Along with some dirty talk (along the lines of "Fuck baby, so fuckin' good and tight for your alpha aren't ya?") Bokuto would raspily groan out an "FUCK- Gonna fuckin' cum-! Gonna knot you- omega- my fuckin' omega-" - Bokuto would become the opposite of his cute, gentle self when he was so close to his orgasm, and fuck, you loved it. You could feel the alpha's knot swell, his already huge cock becoming even harder to take, but your heat was helping you make space for him - but you still couldn't just idly sit and take it!

"HAAAA~ Soo big, alpha! TOO- BIG!~" You cry whorishly, the immense pleasure flooding your body at an alpha knotting you making you overwhelmed, forcing your body to move around and try to escape the overstimulating pleasure - however, that is a) not easily done and b) painful as shit for the both of you.

"SHIT-! Don't move while I knot you, [Name]!" Bokuto groans, the pain and pleasure of his knot forcing into you pushing him over the edge.

To keep you in place, the massive alpha pushes his whole arm down on your neck and his massive, rough palm on the arch of your back to keep you in your place, to take his viscous seed like a good omega. With Bokuto's knot swelling to full mast, the man's grip tightens around you as he shoots his huge load, filling you up and cooling your heat down to a mild kindle despite the searing temperature of your alpha's cum. You on the other hand were screaming your head off with moans from the immense pleasure of an alpha knotting you (especially during your heat), your cocklet shooting ropes of thin jizz onto the bed below you as your walls clamped down on Bokuto even tighter. Panting was all that could be heard in the room as the two of you lay down together, your massive alpha crushing you beneath him, but you couldn't complain. Bokuto gently started to kiss you once he was able to think of anything other than the pleasure of cumming inside of you, nipping at the bite's he'd left on you and licking at your exhausted scent gland, admiring the mating mark on it.

short Heat headcannons:

It's basically instinct for the two of you to like the fact that, as an alpha, Bokuto is larger than you as his omega - which isn't hard with the man being fucking huge. But my lord does that little size kink go fucking haywire during your heats - Bokuto loves to look at how his hands hold your waist, not entirely but just enough, while you in your heat-drunk haze think about how the massive man could literally crush you in his grip - the though making your dick twitch. The man isn't even that much larger than you! But give him an inch and he'll talk a mile (or whatever that saying is)

Scenting is one of your big things during heat. In an sfw-way you scent everything that Bokuto owns before you go into heat, and you grab anything that smells remotely like him for your nest. But when the man is fucking you until your last breath, you can't get enough of your alpha's scent - practically begging him to rub his scent gland against yours

That's another thing, your usually snarky or even bratty behaviour goes out the window during your heat, your body controlling your words and behaviour; resulting in pretty begs from your mouth which stroke Bokuto's ego ever so nicely, who's he to deny you of whatever it is that you desire?

Bokuto's aftercare is also top-notch, In between rounds the man is cooling you off and cleaning you while ensuring that you eat and drink. Near the end of your heat, when it's more lukewarm, Bokuto draws a bath and bathes with you, caressing your body softly and scrubbing the smell of sex off of your skin. But your heat is forced into its final hurrah when Bokuto uses his long, masculine fingers to clean your loosened-up hole of his thick cum, his comments of knocking you up sending you over the edge and into the final hour of your cycle~

[writinginatree]

Too Sweet Part 2

Summary: Violet Sorrengail enters the Quadrant and bonds Tairn, leading to angst with a happy ending as requested by anonymous (though tbh it's less angst and more just Xaden being stressed and sulking😅)

Set during Fourth Wing but contains spoilers for Iron Flame

Part 1

By the start of third year, everyone knows Xaden and you are inseparable.

You've made it through all the obstacles of first and second year together, including the unpleasantries of RSC, your love only growing stronger. The interrogation training made him realize that not telling you about the venin and the revolution doesn't equate keeping you safe — there's a huge target on your back just for being with him, regardless of how much or little you know. So after RSC was done, when you sat in his room, patching each other up, he finally caved, told you what his dad's rebellion really was about, the fight him and the other marked ones are continuing in secret.

You took it better than he'd dared to hope, better than he would have in your place. But then, that's you. Always optimistic, never mad at him for long.

It makes him feel worse about the things he's still keeping from you.

The idea of letting you know about his second signet fills him with equal parts terror and guilt. He loathes hiding such an essential part of himself from you, but Sgaeyl has drilled it into him that no one can ever know, not even you. Still, sometimes he wonders what you would make of it. Xaden likes to think you wouldn't mind, would simply accept it like you accepted every other dark part of him.

He hasn't told you about Aretia being rebuilt, either. Someday he'll take you there and show you, if the gods are good. Until then, he has hinted that there is more that he can't tell, details that would endanger too many lives to be spoken aloud here and now.

You understand, like you always do.

Part of Xaden still thinks he doesn't deserve you — probably always will think so — but the rest of him doesn't care. Deserved or not, you're his, and thanks to your gentle patience, he's learning how to trust again.

It's still hard to open up about the painful details of the apostasy, but in the week of leisure and celebration leading up to Conscription Day, he tells you the price General Sorrengail has named for letting the marked ones into the quadrant: keeping her youngest daughter, who's about to join the quadrant herself, alive.

True to your nature, you immediately promise to help Xaden with that task in any way you can. Despite his assurance that it's not necessary, he's glad for the reminder that you will always have his back.

And thank gods for that, because this year is promising to be more stressful than ever.

Between classes, his new duties as Wingleader, and keeping the marked first-years as well as their declared enemy alive, he's running himself ragged. Being his executive officer, you take as much of the leadership work from him as possible, which barely allows him the time to organize weapons runs.

It doesn't help that pretty much every marked one in the quadrant would welcome Sorrengail's death with open arms. Xaden doesn't feel like informing all of them that letting her live is the price for them being given the chance to live, so he keeps them in line by telling them he will handle the matter. They're not happy about it, but they respect him too much to disobey.

Then Threshing comes around, and everything gets worse.

Being a third-year, it should have been a day like any other for him. Patrolling the training grounds, watching foolish first-years get themselves killed and the more competent ones be chosen by dragons — Threshing isn't all that exciting seen from the other side. His pulse speeds a little when he thinks of his foster brother amidst all those unbonded dragons, but Liam is well prepared; Xaden made sure of that himself. He'll be fine.

Sorrengail on the other hand... Well, it's not his problem whether or not she bonds a dragon. He's supposed to keep her alive, but that doesn't mean he has to help her thrive. Not that there's anything he could do, anyway. The dragons do what they want, regardless of how the humans around feel about it — a fact of which Xaden soon gets an unfriendly reminder when that fucking monstrosity Sgaeyl calls a mate shows up and picks Sorrengail of all people. Not that he begrudges her bonding a dragon — he has to admit she's brave for someone so delicate, and her fight against Barlowe and those other dimwits was quite impressive to watch. He can respect her for making it this far. But why, oh why did it have to be Tairn she bonded?

Calling this development a complication would be an understatement, but he can't think of a better word when discussing the matter with you that evening. Not just that he'll die if that damned first-year gets herself killed — that doesn't make much of a difference, since his deal with the General already meant he might well lose his head if he fails at keeping Violet alive.

No, the bigger issue is that Sgaeyl and Tairn can't be apart for long. How is he supposed to go about secret revolution business with Sorrengail acting as a chain and ball around his leg?

He's almost inclined to believe this is a scheme leadership has contrived to keep him under their thumb, but Sgaeyl says her mate is on their side. That doesn't make Xaden feel any better, though. He wouldn't want his life connected to that of any first-year, least of all the Sorrengail girl. He knows what General Sorrengail did wasn't Violet's fault, but she's a constant reminder of it nonetheless.

Xaden kicks his desk. "This is the fucking worst."

"I know it sucks, but it's not the end of the world," you try to comfort him. Rising from where you'd been sitting cross-legged on his bed, you come up behind him to wrap him in a hug. "We just have to make sure she stays alive, then it'll be fine."

Xaden turns to perch on the edge of the desk, pulling you to stand between his legs so he can rest his chin on your shoulder, arms wrapped tight around your waist. "Dying is the least of my worries," he says. "If she finds out what we've been doing, we're all dead, you included."

"You don't know that. Maybe she'll understand that we're doing the right thing. From what I've seen, she seems like a good person."

Xaden would like to disagree, but unfortunately, he can't. He thinks of Parapet, when she'd traded boots with another first-year she'd only just met, of the meeting under the tree she kept quiet about. So she's compassionate, fine. Lots of good that'll do them if she gets suspicious, which she will, considering her attitude toward the marked ones. They have to be more careful than ever from now on.

He sighs and hides his face against the crook of your neck, inhaling your sweet scent. Your hand is in his hair, scritching his scalp the way he likes, but with this new heap of problems to face, not even that can soothe him.

"I should have killed her when I had the chance," he grumbles.

He's not usually one to waste time dwelling on past mistakes, but when he thinks of all the stress he could have spared himself...

"Her mother would have had your head for that," you remind him. "And that of every other marked one, too, probably."

Xaden sighs again. "I know."

"At least you won't have to worry about how to keep the others from killing her anymore now."

A tiny smile tugs on the corner of Xaden's mouth. "Leave it to you to find a plus side to this disaster."

"You're welcome." You turn your head to press a kiss into his hair, and Xaden swears he can feel the soft smile on your lips as you teasingly ask, "Now are you ready to start planning how we should deal with this? Or should I take care of the thinking while you continue to sulk?"

"I'm not sulking." But he sits up straight, runs a hand over his face and thinks. "I guess some extra hand-to-hand training for Sorrengail would be a good start. I'll ask Imogen or Garrick to take care of that. And I thought about moving Liam to her squad to keep an eye on her, but Garrick thinks we should give her the chance to handle herself before taking drastic measures like that."

He pauses, waiting for your opinion.

"Hmm, I don't know. Letting her handle herself is all nice and well in theory, but let's not forget that if she fails to protect herself, it could end with you dead."

"Good point. I'll think it over again tomorrow," he decides. "It's too late to do anything today anyway, and we've got a load of daggers to deliver tomorrow. The Sorrengail issue will have to wait until we're back."

Agreeing that that's a good plan, you drag Xaden to bed, insisting he needs a good night's sleep if he wants to be in shape the following day.

He should have moved Liam into Second Squad the moment Threshing was done, Xaden thinks, cursing as he races down the hall. Returning from the weapons run, they had barely landed on the flight field when Tairn had alerted Sgaeyl that his rider was being attacked. Not that having Liam in her squad would have prevented this; it's the middle of the fucking night.

Bodhi, Garrick, and you are close on his heels, following into the room as he's squeezing the life from the assailants. Leaving the disposal of the bodies to you guys, Xaden convinces Sorrengail to tell him how the hell they got into her room. Like it or not, they're a team now. They'll have to learn to work together if they want to survive.

On the walk back to his room, you're far from your usual bubbly self, pensive and quiet in a way Xaden doesn't like.

"That was too close," you whisper, still clinging to his hand while he closes the door behind you. "If we'd gotten back just a few minutes later you could have been dead."

Xaden wraps his arms around you, holding your head against his chest so you can hear the strong beat of his heart. "Yeah, but I'm not. I'm okay."

You're trembling in his arms. "I almost lost you, just like that. I can't— I can't lose you!"

"Shh, I know. You won't lose me. We'll ask Liam to protect Sorrengail from now on so nothing like this can happen again."

"I could do it," you offer, lifting your head to look at him. Your eyes are swimming with unshed tears. "Liam is strong, but he's just a first-year. I could do it better."

"I don't doubt that, sweetheart, but Liam being a first-year is kind of the point. He can be glued to her side all day, unlike a third-year like you. Not to mention that you're my executive officer. It wouldn't look good for you to be fussing over one of our first-years."

You nod, aware he's right, but he can tell you're still upset.

He has rarely seen you this shaken, but then, it's not everyday that he brushes death like this. And it really is unsettling, to think he could randomly drop dead without warning if something happens to Sorrengail, that he could be killed by someone not even in the same place as him. He refuses to let it freak him out, though. It won't come to that. The whole she dies, he dies-thing is just a theory, anyway. Technically, Tairn — and thereby Sgaeyl — could survive her death, even if it admittedly is unlikely.

"I'm alright," he promises. "Not looking forward to putting a fellow Wingleader on trial for violating the Codex, but alright."

That gets your attention. "A Wingleader?"

"Yeah. Sorrengail said it was Amber Mavis who let the unbonded into her room."

"Fuck."

"Yeah. So let's get some sleep. It's going to be one hell of a day tomorrow."

The news about the attack cause an uproar as expected, and, also as expected, Sorrengail is less than thrilled to be assigned Liam as a bodyguard. Too bad for her. She'll learn to appreciate him the next time someone is out to kill her. Even if she doesn't, Xaden doesn't give a damn. He'd like to stay alive, thank you very much.

Once you get over the shock of truly realizing how easily Xaden could die because of the mated dragons, you make it your mission to befriend Violet. Xaden has to admit it's fun to watch you try. Sorrengail clearly doesn't know what to think of you. The fact that you are Xaden's girlfriend is enough to make her wary of you, but he knows from experience that it's impossible to not like you. And though you associate with marked ones, you aren't one, which serves to make her a little less prejudiced against you.

Between you and Liam, Xaden is sure you'll win her over in no time.

While Imogen oversees Sorrengail's training in the weight room, you've taken it upon yourself to give her additional lessons in hand-to-hand combat, taking her to the mat whenever your schedule allows it. Hesitant as she first seemed to accept your offer to train with her, she never fails to show up for your sessions. Watching from the sidelines, Xaden can already see the first improvements. More often than not, the other first-years from Violet's squad are hanging around too, and you end up showing them new techniques too.

When Xaden asks if it's not too much, training first-years on top of all your other obligations, you laugh and tell him it's actually kind of relaxing — fun. You're a weirdo. But you're his weirdo, and if you're happy, Xaden is happy too. He certainly isn't about to complain; if Fourth Wing wants to win this year's War Games, the first-years need all the training they can get.

It's no surprise how much they all like you — you're the friendliest third-year there is by far, probably the friendliest there has ever been, and much more patient with them than their own older squad mates. Not to mention you're an absolute badass, kicking even Liam's ass during those sparring sessions. Xaden loves watching it. Not only is it incredibly hot to watch you show off for the first-years, it also makes him feel all mushy to see you getting along with his brother.

"We should tell her," Liam says one night, standing in Xaden's room after Violet has gone to bed. "About what's out there. About Brennan being alive."

"Absolutely not." Xaden refuses to even consider it. "Even if she believes us, we don't know what she'd do with that information. It's too great a risk."

To Xaden's surprise, you take Liam's side. "No, it's not. With how smart she is, she'll realize something's going on eventually, and it'd be better if she found out from us rather than figuring it out herself."

"What we should be doing is make sure she doesn't figure it out," he argues.

"Vi isn't our enemy, Xaden. She's nothing like her mother."

Xaden grits his teeth. "I know that, but—"

"She deserves to know that her brother is alive," Liam interrupts from his other side.

"If she tells anyone, he won't be for much longer."

"Which is exactly why she won't tell!"

Xaden sighs. It's rare for Liam to disagree with him like this, but when it does happen, he's almost as hardheaded as Xaden himself, and to make matters worse, the two of you are ganging up on him. Xaden knows he's just being stubborn at this point, overly cautious, maybe even paranoid. But with so many lives at stake, he has to be.

"Come on," you push, using that firm but gentle tone he's used to hearing from you when dealing with scared first-years. "You're the one who told her you need to start trusting each other."

"With our lives, yeah. But not with this."

"She could help us," Liam insists. "She has the second-biggest dragon on the Continent, in case you forgot."

"She also has a memory reader for a best friend," Xaden points out, "who will most definitely go running to his daddy the second he gets the idea we're doing anything that's even a little against his precious rules. Are you really that eager to die?"

Liam rolls his eyes. "Oh, forget Aetos. Vi is sick and tired of his overprotective ass anyway. If we explain the situation to her, she'll keep away from him so he won't find out."

Once again, Xaden shakes his head.

You take his hand, looking at him with so many emotions plain on your face it makes him want to give in. "Please, Xaden. I don't like lying to our friend."

Oh gods, is that what Sorrengail has become? A friend? He scowls when he realizes it's true. How the hell did that happen?

"We're not lying," he reasons. "We're just keeping some things from her."

"Call it what you want, I don't like it. You've told me the truth too, despite having no clue how I would react."

"That's different."

"Yes, but she still deserves to know. She'll choose to do the right thing, I'm sure." Before he can reply, you add, "If it goes badly, we can always have Imogen erase the conversation from her memory, and then I promise we'll never bring it up again."

Xaden sighs, looking from you to Liam and back. With both of you giving him that pleading look, he simply can't say no. "Fine."

Xaden leaves that conversation to you and Liam. While he and Violet have made a sort of peace, the trust between them is still wonky, and he feels she'll take the truth better if it comes from the two of you rather than him.

He waits in the hall with Imogen — just in case — for what feels like ages. Finally the door to Sorrengail's room opens, and the three of you emerge. Violet seems distressed but calm, which is a good sign.

"They told you everything?" Xaden asks her.

A tense nod. What you told her isn't actually everything of course, but the most crucial facts. Who the real enemy is, how you all are trying to help people. He doesn't ask how you managed to convince her; all that matters is that she believes the truth.

"And? Are you in?"

"I'm in."

[endless-ineffabilities]

chemical override (4)

Ewan Mitchell x actress!reader

series masterlist ▪︎ main masterlist

Ewan wants to clear things up about the night out and his mystery companion, and the reader gets another surprise in LA. Will the two finally have their first date or will something get in the way once more?

Ewan's publicist Donna has never had any issue with her client before. Always present and accounted for, on time for whatever interview, photoshoot or audition he has booked for the day.

But she hasn't been able to get a hold of him in the past two days, which is worrying her to no end, because he is set to meet with a major casting director in New York some time in the coming week.

Donna may have a clue as to why. It's only been two days as well since the pub incident, when The Sun ran a story speculating on Ewan's lovelife - the exact kind of thing he's always been trying to avoid.

It had taken a life of its own, with fans taking it upon themselves to track down every clue of the girl on the internet. Her instagram. Her relation to the cast - apparently she is a cousin of Luke and Elliott. Even the marketing agency where she works. Louise, a 26-year old graphic designer, admittedly harbours a crush on Ewan, and when she heard that her cousins were hanging out with him at a pub nearby, she almost immediately invited herself and her friends over.

But that's all, according to Ewan. After talking to Luke, memories of the night came rushing back to him.

Stumbling out in the alley to send you that voice message. Rejoining the boys to see that they've got new company. Being introduced to Louise, with Tom joking that he should be careful with the missus. Wouldn't want her - you - to think that he's flirting with anyone else.

Even though that's exactly what happened. Not the flirting, per se. Not from Ewan's side, at least. Louise had been brazen with admiration, barely leaving his side the rest of the night. Asking him a bunch of probing questions he had neither the interest nor the patience to answer.

They had all thought the pub was safe from prying eyes. No one approached them for anything, not even a single look of recognition followed by the question, “Are you that guy from House of the Dragon?” Unfortunately, it only takes one rat for a headline to surface. Ewan Mitchell’s mystery girl has been the talk of the fandom and Donna has been trying hard to quell the rumours. 

Such is the nasty nature of the business, as she knows Ewan has quickly learned.

She dials him again, and to her surprise, the call actually patches through.

Her client's throaty voice is heard on the other line, "Hey, Donna, sorry if I've missed your calls."

"It's alright, it's alright, Ewan," Donna stammers. "Just glad to hear from you. Where are you? I've managed to do some damage control about those rumours and - "

"Oh, I'm in LA. I just landed about an hour ago," Ewan responds casually, not mirroring the stress in Donna's tone. Has he gotten over the fuss so easily?

"LA? You know your meeting is not till next week, right? And it's in New York. It's very, very important that you don't miss it, Ewan."

"And I won't," Ewan affirms, laughing dryly to console his worried publicist. "I just need to see about something over here."

Someone, he thinks. He's got his priorities straight.

"Work-related?" Donna asks, curious.

"Uhhhm," Ewan dithers, but decides against telling her about you. Not just yet. "Just visiting a friend. I'll stay here for a while then fly out to New York, don't worry."

"Okay, just keep in touch, alright? I'll send more details about the meeting soon."

"Sure thing. Thank you, Donna."

"Talk soon, Ewan. Take care of yourself."

Donna feels a huge sense of relief wash over her when the call ends, knowing the whereabouts of one of her biggest clients. But why LA? Perhaps Ewan just needed some time off after the flurry of annoying headlines put out in the UK.

Or maybe he's visiting with a friend? Who is stateside right now? Fabien's filming in Philly. The rest of the boys are still in England. But then...

Her thoughts land on the one thing - the one person - that would make him fly out on such short notice. Without giving thought to anything else, especially after the speculation on his romantic life.

Ewan's never been one to share about personal affairs, not even to his close-knit team, but no matter how reclusive he is, no one can deny the way he looks at you. The way he lights up when you're brought up in conversation. The number of times he had excused himself from their meetings to make a call, standing in the corner with a permanent smile etched on his face.

Oh, Donna knows now just who he is in LA for.

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

Like inevitable spectres haunting someone of his profession, Ewan noticed the papparazzi snapping away as he arrived in LA.

He told no one he would be coming, so it must be an automatic thing in the city. The photogs are always scurrying in the periphery, ready to catch anyone of note, no matter the degree of fame or notoriety.

If you were keeping up with such news, you would know he is in the city.

But according to your assistant Clara, who was kind enough to inform him of your schedule, you are still finishing up on another day of rehearsals for your upcoming rom-com. Ewan checked in the same hotel as you, planning to seek you out as soon as you arrive back from work.

He hasn't spoken to you since the voicemail, and since those false news broke out. Not that he can blame you - wouldn't anyone be suspicious of a drunken confession made by a guy who was allegedly in the company of another girl?

He hates it, being subject to all of this. This nonsense that is keeping you from him, not even worth any consequence.

But he will deal with the blows. As long as he sets things right with you. As long he gets you in the end.

He settles in his suite, getting ready to meet with you once more. He showers, shaves, tousles his hair. He even checks whether he smells decent after all of that - once, twice, and another time. Being nervous to stand in front of a crowd is one thing; it's a whole other conundrum for him finally see you again.

Maybe the crowds are more manageable, and it baffles him to realise so. He can put on a persona, be the actor, and disappear inside himself as the cameras flash bright enough for him to disassociate.

But not with you. He wants to show you everything that he is, who he truly is, and it scares him. There is no team to help him get ready now. It's all him, just Ewan.

Clad in his trusty black jeans and a comfortable hoodie of the same dark colour, he looks in the mirror one last time after receiving a text from Clara that you've arrived at the hotel about half an hour ago.

He contemplates opening the bottle of bourbon from the minibar and taking a shot of liquid courage - something to help him get his explanation ready. Just so he wouldn't stammer in front of you.

Just so you he can make you see, without any error or trace of doubt, that he meant every word in that voicemail, no matter how embarrassing it might have sounded.

He decides against it, imagining the wrinkling of your nose as you catch a whiff of the alcohol. It's cute when you do it, and he adores it so dearly, but he knows that it isn't the right moment.

He rights himself, rolls his shoulders, and he's out the door.

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

Jacob trails you inside your hotel suite, laughing at some shared remark about the scenes you rehearsed for the day.

They were emotionally demanding and even after tossing around ideas for hours, the two of you were unable to achieve a satisfying approach to the scenes.

Which is why he had proposed practicing well into the evening, and you found yourselves heading back to your suite together. He has his own house in LA, but your hotel just happened to be closer to the rehearsal studio.

"Care for a drink?" you asked him.

"Why the hell not?" he immediately assents in that easy, Aussie drawl. "We might need it for this shite."

You laugh in agreement, "Indeed. I've got some canned gin and tonics if that's alright.. or beer... or whiskey... " you trail off as you study the contents of your fridge.

"G and t, please, mate," he settles down on the couch, legs stretching in front of him. "We were so unproductive today. I just could not get that line right."

"Tell me about it." You hand him his drink, and he clinks it with yours with a mumbled cheers. "It was me who can't land the right tone," you say. "I mean, is my character supposed to be confused in that moment? Or angry? Or sad?"

"Or all of 'em." he shrugs. "Tricky, isn't it?"

You hurriedly fetch your script from a table, getting right down to it. "So for the first scene in the third act..."

Moments later, with cans of gin and tonic discarded on the coffee table, you and Jacob sit with legs crossed on the couch facing each other. Scripts in hand, you go through the lines over and over, with only seemingly minor tweaks each time. To an actor though, even just the slightest change of pitch or expression makes all the difference.

"Is that better? I think we almost got it," you say after a read-through.

"Yeah, so much better," he grins, holding his hand up for a high-five. Just as your hands smack in the air, another sound echoes faintly from the door.

"Someone's knocking?" Jacob asks. "You expecting anybody? Room service or anything?"

"No," you shake your head, trying to think of whether your assistant or publicist said anything about dropping by. "Maybe it's just housekeeping?"

"I'll get it," Jacob states, already padding his way to the door.

A beat later, you hear Jacob loudly exclaim, "Ewan, mate! It's good to see you!"

Ewan? A shiver runs up your spine. Craning your neck to get a view of a doorway, you catch sight of him, half-obscured by Jacob's tall frame.

Confused, surprised, and feeling some other emotion you can't pinpoint, you head over to greet him.

"How are you doing?" Jacob greets, shaking Ewan's hand, oblivious to the poorly hidden distaste in his eyes.

"Wh-what are you doing here?" Ewan finds himself asking Jacob, a bit rudely, just as you ask him the same.

"What are you doing here?" you mirror his question at the exact same time.

"Oh!" Jacob breathes out a laugh, "Well, I'll go first. We were just practicing lines."

"In her room? Isn't it a bit late for rehearsal? I thought you're supposed to be off work." Ewan asks, and it sounds like an accusation. He starts to feel all kinds of uneasy - were the twins right about life imitating art?

You narrow your eyes at him. "We decided to continue running lines after rehearsal. There's a scene we can't get right. It's quite tricky - "

"Just the two of you? Alone, here?" Ewan tilts his head, gesturing towards the room like it's some forbidden place.

Jacob shakes his head, smile steady on his lips. If he's caught on to how Ewan must be feeling, he doesn't let it affect him. He gives you a look, as if to check your reaction, and you give him a reassuring shrug.

Ewan does not overlook this exchange. He clenches his jaw, irate from the assumptions popping up in his mind. Before he forgets his manners, he says, "Excuse me, I just... wasn't expecting... I just wanted to speak to you."

"I didn't even know you were in LA," you say, before moving aside to usher him in. "But I'm glad you are, of course. Come join us - "

He nods, making his way to the seating area, where he spies the discarded cans of alcohol and dog-eared scripts. Maybe he should have taken that bloody shot after all.

He laughs joylessly to himself, shaking his head. "Sorry, you guys. I just flew in today, and I must have been exhausted from the flight."

"Hey, no worries, mate," Jacob says. "You know what, I'll be on my way. Give you time to catch up and all." He picks up his own tattered script then gives you a kiss on the cheek, bidding you with a, "I'll see you tomorrow. Have a good night, sweetheart."

If looks could kill, and if his dear mother hadn't raised him right, he would have incinerated Jacob in that moment.

He is snapped out of his thoughts when Jacob claps him on the shoulder, "Great to see you again, mate. Have a good night, eh?"

Ewan knows he's being ridiculous. There's nothing wrong with two friends and co-stars spending some time alone to rehearse. Besides, last he heard, you were adamant that you and Jacob are just friends.

So why is he being so irrational? Why does the idea of you spending more time than necessary with Jacob, possibly falling for him, bother him so much?

Ewan realises that this is what jealousy must feel like.

He's had career envy before. Another actor landing a role he vied for. Someone else getting the praise he deserves.

But nothing like this. It's petty and possessive.

He wants you to just be his.

You stand in front of him once more after you walk Jacob out of the suite.

"Hey," you say, smiling weakly.

"Hi, darling."

Both of you want to do more. Say more. Usually you would greet each other with a hug and a kiss on a cheek, his hands lingering on your forearms even after you pull away, but the air is thick with tension.

You look at him with those bright, expecting eyes of yours, and Ewan just wants to cave in and make a sloppy confession. But not after that voicemail, no. He's determined to do this right. Words not slurred, head clear.

"So I got your voicemail," you finally say, smiling coyly. "That was... something."

"Hmm," he can't help but mirror your smile, as always. "It was, wasn't it?"

"I understand," you continue, taking a step closer, "if you were drunk. We all say things when we're off it that we maybe don't mean - "

"But darling, I meant every word," he says, way too quickly.

You laugh, the sound of it erasing whatever apprehension remained in him. "Do you even remember what you said?"

"I do," he counters, moving even closer to you. Another step and he'd be able to wrap his arms around your waist and pull you to him. "At least, some of - no - most of it."

"Oh yeah?" you ask cheekily, aided by the effect of gin. He still has your heart racing, but a part of you now knows that the feeling is mutual. "What did you say again?"

He sees that glint in your eye, and it causes him to smirk. "Why don't I make it simple for you, darling?" He closes the distance, one hand brushing the hair from your face.

"Okay," you swallow, getting lost in his blues.

"I missed you." He kisses your cheek. "I like you. A lot." He kisses the other. "And I, uh, I would like to take you on a date."

His eyes meet yours. His voice is steady, but you notice some nervousness in his gaze. How the tables have turned. You make Ewan Mitchell's heart go awry.

"Please, darling?" he timidly adds, the sentiment so sweet you want to blurt out yes immediately. Before you can, he's already leaned back, an explanation rushing out of his lips, "And... I'm not sure but you must have seen those headlines? They're not true, I swear. We were out drinking and - "

"I know, Ewan." You cut him off with a hand pressed gently on his chest but he keeps going.

" - some other people joined us. One of them being - "

"Luke and Elliott's cousin. I know. Elliott called and told me everything."

"Oh. He called you?" A huge sense of relief washes over him, better than any comfort he might have found in a shot or three of bourbon.

"Mhmm, he called me yesterday. So, you know, you didn't really have to fly out. I was about to call you eventually."

He smiles bashfully, eyes cast down as a blush spreads across his cheeks. Damn it, Elliott, you brilliant lad. He reminds himself to treat Elliott to a pint the next time he sees him.

"I still wanted to see you," Ewan maintains, pressing a kiss to your forehead and you're immediately enveloped by the familiar comfort of his scent. Surprisingly without the staple hint of cigarette smoke, due to his frantic scrubbing after the flight.

"I'm happy you're here," you say, wrapping your arms around his waist, cheek pressed against his chest. "And no offence to Louise or anything, but she needs to learn some boundaries with my - "

Ewan looks down at you fondly, squeezing your arms to prompt your next words, "Yeah, darling? Your what?"

"My - " you attempt to bury your face in his hoodie, but he keeps your gaze with a hand cupping your jaw. So you end up saving yourself with " - my Aemond."

"Hmm," he hums, lips curling, and it's so very Aemond of him it makes you feel warm all over. "Your Aemond.Your Ewan. I'm all yours, love."

The whole thing couldn't have gone any better, all things considered, and Ewan feels content to have gotten over his first brush with the rumour mill. What matters is right in front of him, and you know the truth.

"Are you staying in this hotel? How did you even know I was here?" You take his hand, guiding him over to the couch.

"Clara," is all Ewan says by way of explanation.

"Well, thank you, Clara," you declare. Ewan shuffles closer to you and rests his arm around your shoulders, planting a kiss on your forehead again. The gesture is already becoming instinctive, providing the both of you with a sense of ease.

"Darling?"

"Yeah?" you respond absentmindedly, fingers toying with the soft fabric of his hoodie.

"Is that a yes?"

You exhale deeply. As if it wasn't clear enough already. "What do you think, handsome?"

"I don't know, angel. You tell me," he counters cheekily, his fingers playing with your hair as you playfully glare at him.

"What if I say no, baby?"

"Then I'll have to work hard to change your mind, princess."

"And how would you do that, honey?"

His gaze darkens, and something flashes across his blue eyes as he whispers intensely, "Use your imagination, bunny."

"Ri-right," you bite your lip, then shake your head to snap out of it. "We'll have to draw the line at bunny."

He laughs at your flustered state, pleased by the effect he has on you. "What's wrong with bunny?"

That elicits a groan out of you, but you smile anyway. "I already said yes, Ewan. Quit it with the bunny."

"Alright, beautiful," he relents, making you lean even closer against him.

The haze of gin after a long work day starts to subside and the rush of emotion is coming back to you. You find yourself gazing at Ewan in mild disbelief, in awe that he just confessed that he wants you.

Feeling antsy, you stand and pace around the room. You start tidying things, putting your scattered knick-knacks back in your handbag. If you sit with him any longer, you just might end up hurrying things through and jump his bones already, kiss him the next time he does that hmm.

"Can I get you anything?" you ask.

"No," he says smoothly. "I just need you." The words make you stop in your tracks. He still sits in the same position, looking at you with that undeniable desire in his eyes.

"Uhhhm," your mouth feels dry all of the sudden. Nothing his tongue past your lips can't fix, your intrusive thoughts barge right in. "So... the... the media rollout's still going on isn't it? Should we check and see?" You take your laptop and plop back down next to him. He doesn't miss a beat and cuddles against you once more, wrapping his arm around your tense frame.

"I think so, darling." The media rollout is how the interviews and promotional material filmed by the cast is being released gradually, on a weekly basis, after each new episode comes out.

A simple search on Youtube confirms it, and the first thing that popped up is the Where is The Lie? video you did for Elle.

It was slated for just Tom, Phia, and Ewan but your Blackwood character became such a fan-favourite that they asked you to join in. Not to mention the frenzy you and Ewan caused online with the initial interviews you did together.

"Shall we watch this?" Ewan offers, solely for the intent of seeing you in the video.

You click on it, and for the next 8 minutes or so, all you can take note of are the signs that had clearly already been there. The fans were on to something when they claimed that you and Ewan are a really good ship.

The video starts with a clip of Phia hitting her head on the overhead lamp when she stands, prompting her to uncontrollably giggle along with you and Tom. Ewan, being the exception, is beside himself with worry, and he appears to instinctively reach for your hand as you sit beside him.

"Huh," Ewan smiles, taking your hand and pressing a kiss to the back of it.

Tom is the first to be put on the hot seat, and he slowly recites the three statements he prepared. "Ewan, pay attention," Tom blurts out when he notices that Ewan kept sneaking glances at you. "Sure, I'm locked in," Ewan says right back, as you and Phia share a look.

"What were you looking at?" you ask playfully, poking him in the side. "You seem plenty distracted there."

He snorts at himself in the video, when he ends up smiling as he caught your eye. "It was your fault. You were distracting me."

"I was not!" you exclaim. "I thought you were just being competitive then."

Phia is next to have a go. She tells you of a Wifi repellent necklace, a wrestling career, and saving a squirrel from a drainpipe. "The Wifi thing sounds like something Ewan would have," Tom jokes. "Oh sure," you concur, "except that he'd actually keep it so he can watch films." Ewan smiles at your acute observation.

"I'd also keep it to stalk your Instagram," Ewan mumbles from beside you. "And you know, just stalk you in general."

"I'm sure you do, Mitchell," you respond casually, but your face warms up anyhow.

It's Ewan's turn, and as he sits on the hot seat, you see Tom and Phia casting a look at each other then at the two of you, a secret message shared between them. "I bet she will know the answer right away," Phia says. "Yeah, how do we know the two of you didn't conspire together?" Tom asks. "Are you kidding me, you guys?" you laugh at them, thinking how silly they were being, not knowing then that they were definitely on to something.

"Darling, you have to know this," Ewan tells you specifically as you all try to guess the answer. "Oh, darling!" Tom mouths to Phia, dramatically flipping nonexistent long hair over his shoulder. Phia laughs at his antics, before nudging you and saying, "Which one is it? Which is the lie? I trust you." You respond, "Why me? You two should know this too!"

"Because I wasn't trying to date them, my love," Ewan says, smiling at the screen.

"Oh, come on now." You crane your neck up to press a soft kiss against his cheek before turning your attention back to the video. So you don't notice the switch in Ewan's breathing. The jumps in his heartbeart. The way he subtly clears his throat to deal with his flustered state.

The video comes to a close after your turn and even at the very end, Ewan can be seen admiring you as you give the closing remarks with Phia.

Admiring you, as he does in the moment.

"You're beautiful, you know that?" he says, when you turn to look at him.

"Thank you," you reply softly, your voice barely audible.

Some time passes with the two of you catching up, talking about your upcoming projects, his big meeting in New York - all the while his fingers trace patterns on your exposed skin, his arm wrapped around you snugly.

"Have you been keeping up with the show?" he asks.

"The last episode I saw fully was... the second one? I got pretty busy after that. How about you?"

"Oh," he looks down in thought, piquing your curiosity, "so you didn't get to see the third episode yet then?"

"No, not yet," you shake your head, "but I've seen some stuff here and there."

He hums again and he wants to ask, have you seen his stuff? There are around a dozen or so potential jokes at play here. He has an inkling to tell you to watch the episode so you can see just what you're in for. So you can see him and all he has to offer. He'd also fumble through a justification, as he had done in some interview, about the new studio they had filmed in being cold as a fridge freezer.

What to say? What to say? He picks at some lint on his jeans, smirking to himself.

"Yeah," you eventually giggle at his obvious hesitation. "I've only seen some of the episode. But what I've seen... is enough to make me jealous of Madame Sylvie."

He stiffens, throat suddenly dry, but one look at your smile does away with his concerns.

He soon finds himself laughing, a muffled, "Oh, darling," whispered lovingly against your hair.

"That was very brave of you, Ewan," you express sincerely.

"Thank you, love."

"So... just how cold was it in there?"

Your shared, unrestrained laughter echo throughout the room.

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

Your first date was meant to happen the following night, but such is the nature of the job that Ewan's schedule gets moved up all of a sudden.

Once the bigshot casting director in New York found out that Ewan is already stateside, he requested that the meeting be held at the earliest possible opportunity.

He calls you while you are in rehearsals, profusely apologizing and promising to fly back to LA in the next two days, right after his meeting is all sorted.

"It's okay, Ewan," you reassure him, genuinely understanding. "I will see you when you come back. Good luck, I know you're going to smash it, whatever opportunity this is!"

"Thank you, darling," he says, already wanting to have you back in his arms already, mentally kicking himself for not kissing you when he had about a hundred chances to do so. "I'm going to miss you."

"I'll miss you too," you respond, blushing silly with the phone pressed to your ear. "But it'll only be two days."

"Hmm, doesn't matter. I need to take you on our bloody date, darling. I've already taken so damn long."

"Don't worry," you say, "I've already seen you way more than I should before the first date."

"Wha - " a protest forms on his lips, but he gets your point right away. "Oh. Clever, darling."

"I know."

"But I'm planning to give you something that's just for you. That the whole world won't ever be privy to."

You swallow hard, your very being heating up at his insinuation. "Don't make promises you can't keep, Mitchell."

"I guess you'll just have to wait and see."

Bonus chapter!

Nocturnal file 🤫

💌 next chapter

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The cast's Where is The Lie? video is an actual thing! I hope yous got the reference!

Notice how the two nerve-wrecked shites didn't have their first proper kiss yet??? Will they ever?? 😩😩😩

Taglist is officially closed for this one. Please bookmark this series or the masterlist (or follow my page) to keep up with updates <3

I can't even overstate how mad all the love for this series has been! I'm always looking forward to hearing from you guys - suggestions, comments, complaints are always welcome!

See you in part five! (preview: something will happen in NY that might cause Ewan to question things!)

[deadhands69]

Online Girlfriend

MDNI loser!Shigaraki x Reader

Request from anon Contains: gn/afab reader, mostly smut: face sitting, sex (m behind), lots of cum. [wc: 2k]

“Why’d you put the work in, no one’s gonna show up.” Dabi laughed across the room at Shigaraki who put in some low-level effort to be presentable (showered.)  “You’re being catfished.”

“Hey, don’t listen to him. I’m sure it’ll be fine,” assured Spinner, who remains skeptical but supportive. He’d like to think there’s at least some hope for one of them to actually get a date.

Tomura’s phone dings.

running late, sorry! still otw!

Rushing, you try to make up the time you lost when a traffic jam caused all transportation to be rerouted. It’s not a great start, for the first time you’re meeting your online boyfriend but it is what it is. 

The two of you hit it off in a discord chat for your favorite game and haven’t stopped talking since. The past few months of chatting have been great so you finally asked to meet in person. It felt like the next step. Admittedly, you’ve also been really horny lately and are hoping to do something about that.

Typically, you’d be worried about meeting someone from the internet but he seems real enough. The photos he sent you were cute. Not perfect in a conventional way, like something you’d expect from someone pretending to be someone else. These were real. They were dark and grainy, taken by someone who isn’t used to taking selfies. Even with the low-quality images and hair covering most of his face, you could tell he’s attractive. He has nice collarbones and a cute smile. On top of that, he’s smart. Having a weird amount of information about nearly everything. He’s funny too, in a dark way. You feel like you could talk to him about anything.

Finally, you made it!

Shoving through the door into the bar he’d sent you the address of earlier, you see that it’s pretty empty. You’d recognize his silvery-blue hair anywhere though. 

“Hi, Tomura!” you take a seat next to him, “I’m [y/n], it’s so good to finally meet you!”

Spinner and Dabi stare in amazement, you’re a lot prettier than they expected. Tomura notices this too. For all the flirting and suggestive messages he’d sent you online, he completely freezes the moment he lays eyes on you. Staring like a deer in the headlights.

Okay, so he’s a little awkward. That’s fine.

The two of you make some conversation. Bumbling through small talk until you start talking about games and he loosens up a bit. After an hour, he still can’t look directly at you without stuttering, but he’s rambling excitedly about the newest patch.

“I just downloaded it, if you want to play. Come on,” he gestures, “I live upstairs.”

As if he only just realized he asked you to be alone in his bedroom with him, his jaw drops and he begins to stammer again. 

“I… I didn’t mean to, like...uh. If you’re uncomfortable -” 

You grab his arm, pulling him from the stool. “Lead the way,” you smile.

The two in the corner, who you’ve since learned are his friends, look shocked as you walk past them to the exit.

Tomura Shigaraki’s room isn’t clean per say, but at least he remembered to take the bags of trash out this morning. He’s glad for that since he definitely didn’t think he’d be bringing you back to his place. You watch as he wiggles the mouse to wake his computer up, middle finger hovering. He has nice hands, you decide.

“Uhm,” he starts uncomfortably, “it’s a pretty big patch. So it’s not done downloading yet.”

The estimated time remaining jumps between two hours and three days as the internet speed flickers.

“That’s okay, we can find other ways to kill the time,” you run your fingers softly over his shoulder. It’s nice to touch him for the first time, feel that he’s real. 

tomura.exe is no longer responding

His body stiffens at the closeness. This is what he wanted, right? Why else would he bring you up to his room?

“If that’s okay with you?” you ask.

“Yeah,” he manages to choke out, letting you pull him to his bed. He lays flat out while you climb over him, straddling his hips. He whimpers slightly and you can feel that he’s already hard. Awkwardly, his hands hover at your thighs. You didn’t expect your discord boyfriend to have a ton of experience, but seeing just how nervous you make him is… hot.

“Okay, is there anything I should know? Places you like to be touched?” your fingers graze his collarbone before running down his chest. Feeling the warmth of his body through the thin shirt. “Or anywhere you don’t like being touched?”

“No,” he breathes huskily, before sighing “...y-yes.”

“Don’t… y-you can’t touch all five of my fingers at the same time,” he gulps, “it’s my quirk.” Without being able to find the right words to explain, he grabs an empty energy drink can that’s in reach. It crumbles to dust instantly. 

You’re fucking kidding, you think. This bumbling mess underneath you has that strong of a quirk? How has that never come up? It only turns you on more, knowing he has the strength to take out half the world but melts into a puddle when you so much as breathe in his direction. 

He makes eye contact with you for the first time before biting his lip and looking away. It’s as if he’s waiting for you to say nevermind. To get up and leave. There’s something so sweetly pathetic in all of it.

“Cute,” you say, pressing his hands back into the bed by his wrists. Fingers snaking up his palms. He looks confused. No one has ever called him ‘cute’ before. It’s also the closest he’s ever been to holding hands with someone and he nearly cums from that alone.

He groans as your lips lightly move over his. Careful not to kiss him too hard, he’s already excited and you still want to fuck him later. With the way his breath hitches at a small kiss on the neck, you decide to move faster.

Standing up, you begin taking off your clothes and tell him to do the same. 

You planned for this. While you didn’t absolutely expect him to fuck on the first date, you certainly dressed for it. It’s not full-on lingerie or anything but you put on the nicer underwear for the occasion. Judging by the look on his face he notices and appreciates this. Too flustered to manage the button on his black skinny jeans.

“Here,” you climb back over him, “let me.”

They’re tight so it takes a bit of effort to pull them over his ever-growing bulge. When you finally manage to pull his pants over his feet, you pause to admire the sight. 

He’s beautiful.

More toned than you would have expected under all of his clothes. Pale skin contrasting with the black of his underwear, his lightly pink tip poking out from under the elastic.

“Have you ever touched anyone before?” you ask, already knowing the answer. He shakes his head. 

“Okay,” you move closer, “let's start there.”

You pull his trembling hands to your sides. Two fingers hover above your hips.

“Oh fuck,” he mumbles staring up at you.

“Take my underwear off,” you instruct.

Of course, he does exactly what you asked him to. He’s slightly clumsy at it, but you expect that. He’s never done this before and he’s being overly cautious. His jaw drops at the sight of you.

“Bra,” once more, he does as you say. Already panting underneath you.

You crawl over his body, careful to brush the hard length of him as you go. He whines at the contact.

“I take it you’ve never eaten anyone out before either, huh?” you ask rhetorically. 

“Nuh-uh,” he shakes his head, strands of baby blue falling in his face.

“You’ll learn fast,” you whisper while brushing his hair back to the bed. 

Placing your hands on his headboard, you move your knees to each side of his head. His eyes widen as you sink onto him. You rock your hips forward, bringing his nose to brush your clit. He moans before licking where he can. 

“Just like that,” you exclaim when he hits a sensitive spot. 

He takes instruction well, slowly improving as you go. His movements are still a bit sloppy, but the friction of his skin against you is enough. You’re at the edge -

“Oh fuck,” he groans under you. His body tenses and he shoves his face further into you. Turns out it’s all you needed too. Reaching down, you grip his hair while you ride out your orgasm.

You pull away, leaving his face slick. He catches his breath as you assess the situation. As you assumed, you weren’t the only one who just came. His stomach and chest are covered in ropes of his own doing. Of course you didn’t mean to make him cum so fast, you didn’t even touch him. You were looking forward to fucking him too.

He grabs a shirt from the floor, wiping himself off.

“Do you always cum that fast?” you tease. 

“Uh, sorry. C-can we keep going?” he chews the skin of his bottom lip nervously.

“You want to keep going?”

“Yeah,” he says more confidently than you’ve heard him speak all afternoon, “I can last longer if you give me a chance. I promise.”

You look him over. He looks pretty fucked out but he’s already hard again.

“Just tell me what to do,” he stares up at you with his beautiful red eyes and you can’t help but give in.

A minute later, he’s behind you. Lining himself up at your instruction.

“Like this?”

“Yeah. Okay, now slide up and in. Slowly,” he does as you say, poking around slightly before you feel his tip press in. You look over your shoulder at him, his jaw slack as he stares down at himself disappearing into you. His eyes closing as he wills himself not to cum again so quickly, he did promise.

“You’re doing great!” his breath catches at the compliment, “now, you’ll press in and out. In. Out.” You set the pace you want him at, he listens. 

“This okay?” he asks breathily. You’re amazed at how good he feels already. The way he fits perfectly inside you. He has no idea that he makes every nerve in your body feel like it's on fire.

“Yeah, exactly. That’s perfect,” you gasp.

Without needing to be asked, his hands carefully grip your hips. This time with more confidence. Pulling you back into him with force. 

“Fuck, just like that,” you moan. Feeling yourself tense around him, you grip the sheets calling out his name. Arching your back to press harder into him, he gets the hint and picks up the pace.

With the quivers of you around him, he can’t hold back any longer. 

“Fuck, sorry, fuck,” he groans, pulling out just as the trembling in your gut subsided. You feel him plaster your back in warm cum before he falls back on the bed to recover.

“Uhm,” you hum moments later, eyes flicking over your shoulder.

“Shit,” he mutters breathlessly, jumping up to grab another semi-clean shirt to wipe your back off with.

He lays down again, this time you move to the bed with him. You wrap your arms around him, head resting against his neck.

“Sorry it wasn’t very long,” he mumbles.

“You did great,” you say, wondering how long he actually expected himself to last, “and I’m sure next time you’ll make it even longer.”

“Yeah,” he smiles, “next time.”

Extra headcanons for fun:

Kurogiri googled you before you arrived.

Tomura googled "how to talk to attractive person."

Dabi and Spinner placed bets on if you'd actually show up. Spinner didn't know if you would but wanted to be supportive of his friend.

The traffic jam was caused by Twice and Magne. No reason, they just thought it would be fun.

After this, you and Tomura agree to meet up once a week. Once turns to Twice and before you know it, you're moving closer to see each other every day. Eventually, he learns what you like and you don't have to give him instructions.

masterlist

[madaqueue]

WHILE WINTER HOLDS ITS QUIET BREATH

a visit to childe's home

pairing: childe x gn!reader

themes/content: fluff. mentions of his family, violence, blood, he gets called his birth name, basically just a character study i guess. 18+ MDNI (wk: 3.4k)

a/n: nobody look at me

"Winter collapsed on us that year. It knelt, exhausted, and stayed." - Emily Fridlund, History of Wolves

Ajax smells different in Snezhnaya.

Coming from the shower on your sixth morning in his home, steam fading from his skin, it takes a moment for your mind to register that it’s him standing in the doorway, to connect the neurons and cells that know him, the ones that would recognize his curves and muscles draped in a burgundy towel. In Liyue, you’re used to the heavy scent of metal hanging on him, mingling with spices and clove, musk and sweat. It’s still him, of course, but there’s something else here, something closer to the earth that bore him.

He doesn’t notice the way your thoughts stall, already rambling about what his mother is planning to cook for dinner, where Teucer wants to go in town today. His steps fall the same, though, as he moves through his childhood bedroom, the floorboards barely creaking under his familiar weight. This house seems to remember him, although it’s only ever known this version of him, the one who smells like pine and rosemary, who loves to ice fish and hike and laugh, the one whose shoulders rise easily, whose eyes crinkle and flutter when snowflakes land on them.

Truthfully, the thought of asking you to join him on his journey home made his stomach ache. When it finally came time to make the request, he had returned only a few hours ago from some far-off city you’d barely remembered the name of, one with too many vowels in it, you think, one that took him away from you for too long again, his freshest scars already beginning to heal.

“My mother wants to meet you,” he hummed, nuzzling his face into your neck. “Tonia, too.”

Your heart lurched in your chest, and you were just as glad his eyes had strayed from yours to hide the way warmth began creeping up your neck. “They know about me?”

“Of course they do, silly” he pulled away, grinning. With a pinch of your cheek, he rubbed his nose against yours. “Who do you think I write all those letters to?”

When you didn’t respond, he hid his face back in the den of your shoulder.

“Would you come with me when I go back to Snezhnaya? To meet them? Just for a week.” Tightly, he closed his eyes, afraid of what your eyebrows or the corners of your mouth might say, things he didn’t want to hear. The journey is too long or I’m needed at work or I don’t love you, Ajax. But the words never came.

“Of course I’ll go,” you whispered instead, sweet like the honeyed wine you served with dinner. The waves crashed softly outside the open window, carried by the other sounds of the harbor, ones of labor and ships and travel.

In the haven of your skin, his lips curled into a smile.

The first day you arrived, his family greeted you behind the thick wooden door. Teucer lugged your bags upstairs, each thud as they collided with the old wood came with a giggle. His mother hugged you, and she smelled like cinnamon.

“Is that the only coat you brought?” she asked, rubbing the worn leather that draped your shoulders.

Before you could respond, she was already turning away, rummaging through the closet. Inside, you caught glimpses of old brooms and half-patched stockings before she thrusted a piece of cloth into your arms.

“Here! It’s not perfect, and it’s certainly not new, but this should treat you much better.”

She smiled with her teeth, like the grin that slips from Ajax on nights when the two of you sat outside and counted the stars. Devoid of second meanings, of control or deceit.

Unfurling the item, warm wool rubbed against your fingertips in the shape of a soft grey outer-jacket. The buttons held on by single threads, and the pockets had holes, and you pulled it into your chest.

“Thank you,” you said, and you hugged her.

Later that evening, his father showed you where they stored wood for the fire as Ajax swung a rusted axe, each crack echoing against the silent trees.

“It gets cold here at night, so make yourselves comfortable,” was all he said before ducking back inside. You slept in Ajax’s childhood bed under three layers of blankets, his limbs intertwined with your own.

On your second day in Snezhnaya, Tonia insisted on going into town.

“You’ll love it,” she promised, dragging Ajax by the wrist out the door. “You have to see it.”

He huffed some retort, but his eyes glimmered when he looked to you, reflecting the sky that seemed almost too blue here, unsoiled by humidity and sweat.

The city itself was busy, or at least, busier than you expected for a place known for its unforgiving climate. The worn-down cobblestone lended itself to easy steps, the sound of chatter bouncing off the brick buildings. Everyone moved easily past one another, like salmon in the harbor, all traveling back to the depths of the sea.

Suddenly, Ajax turned to you. “I have to run some errands. Don't get into any trouble, you two,” he winked, glancing down at Tonia who only giggled in response.

“We won’t!” she reassured; as he faded into the crowd, she looked up at you. “Now, I can show you the really cool stuff.”

With her hand clasped firmly in yours, she led you through narrow alleyways until you emerged under the bright, cold sun. Tall glass panels greeted you, lining the storefronts. Behind each one, layers of gold and jewels were carefully displayed, reflecting spots of light onto the marble like small fish eyes watching your every move.

“That one’s my favorite,” she stated, pointing through the window that fogged under her breath. An icy sapphire sat in the center of the arrangement, nestled into rich black velvet.

Just as you opened your mouth, a firm hand landed on your shoulder. “Now, don’t tell me you’ve taken a liking to these, or do you want me to go broke?” Ajax chuckled from behind you, his sudden presence making Tonia squeal in delight.

As the three of you made your way home, Tonia clinging onto his back and resting her head in the fluff around his coat, a light snow began falling, and without wind, it hung in the air. Ajax stuck out his tongue, pink and warm, to catch them; Tonia followed, opening her jaw as wide as a child could to capture the melting crystals.

That night, around the fire, Ajax quietly pulled something from his pocket: a small, black velvet pouch. Without a word, he handed it to Tonia. Her eyes widened, and with careful fingers, she pulled a bright blue gem from inside. She screamed and leapt towards him, rosy cheeks pushed high.

“Now, don’t you go losing that, okay?” he said, pulling her into his chest.

“It’s perfect, it’s perfect, it’s perfect!” she exclaimed, encircling his neck in thin arms and knobby elbows.

In bed that night, wrapped in blankets, he held his hands to you. “Close your eyes,” he whispered. Gently, he placed something cool in your palm, metal. “And, open.”

A silver ring nestled itself into your skin, glowing under the flickering candlelight, a wire-wrapped opal held in the center that sparkled like the moon.

“It’s beautiful,” you finally got to say.

“It reminded me of you.” Like the sun and the clouds and the stars and anything that shares the pleasure of orbiting you, he thought.

His lips are warm and soft when you kiss him, like melted snowflakes, and the ring fits perfectly around your finger.

His hair falls differently in Snezhnaya, too, you realize. It dries lighter after being dampened by wind-carried flurries, less heavy than the unfiltered city water of your home, where the shower always ran red as it circled the drain. Even the sea would leave its own mark when he swam in the harbor, salt and brine adding crisp edges.

But here, he’s all fluff, and you wonder if he ever feels like he’ll get blown away with a strong enough gust. Maybe that’s why his parents said he seemed too mature for his age - when his hair lets him stand two inches taller, it’s easy to say he must be older, larger, wiser.

By your second day, you noticed he never lets Teucer go into the woods alone, in spite of his little brother’s incessant begging, in spite of how he stepped through the front door just moments ago and his fingertips ached from the walk back from town. He always redressed, pulling on his jacket and buckling his boots. He always put Teucer’s hat on for him, too.

On the third day, a blizzard tore through the woods and blinded everything in white. The children played upstairs with their father, and the wind howled through the window panes, a whistling and lonely sound. There was no sun, so instead, candles were lit in every corner, the warmth of the fireplace beckoning you to its hearth. Bottles of firewater made their way through you, poured with a heavy hand into ceramic cups, ones with paintings of trees and a child’s handprint.

“You know, when Ajax was four, he tried to fight a bear,” his mother began from the silence.

Ajax, in turn, groaned, rolling onto his side and resting his head in your lap. “Mama, not this story again.”

“Hush, hush,” she giggled, taking another drink from her mug. “He was out by the lake, and his father had gone back to the house with the fish. He heard something in the trees, and so he grabbed this tiny little fishing knife.” With her free hand, her fingers drew out a three-inch space in the air. “Just as his father returned, he saw his little boy facing the woods. ‘Papa, run!’ he called. ‘There’s a bear!’ But what kind of father would he be to let his son face that danger alone? So, just as he began to run towards him, this-” she laughed, liquid nearly spilling from over the top lip of her cup, “-this teeny bunny hops into the clearing! The terrifying bear Ajax was ready to fight was just a little rabbit!”

Burying his face in his hands, Ajax once again groaned. “It was scary for a kid!”

“I know, I know,” she hummed, wrinkled hands patting his shoulders. “And you were very brave for a kid, too.”

The fourth morning you awoke in Snezhnaya, the bed was cold. Your muscles shivered and you reached for him, but found only empty sheets and blankets bundled around your shoulders.

The stairs still creaked under your weight, not yet used to the way your feet landed on them, stepping on tired and aching bones. In the kitchen, his mother greeted you with a soft, “Good morning.”

Without another word, a warm mug was placed before you, its steam rising into the wooden rafters.

“I hope it wasn’t too cold in that old room last night,” she began - words seemed to flow easily from her, some motherly instinct to comfort, to keep out the silence. “Yesterday was one of the chillier days we’ve had. I’m glad you two didn’t have to go anywhere.” She sipped from her own cup - tea, you presume from the bergamot hanging in the air. “Have you been sleeping well? I can bring up some more quilts if you need.”

You took a drink, letting the liquid scald your tongue, and stifled a wince (the burn isn’t too bad after this long in the snow, you suppose). “Yes, we’re sleeping very well, thank you.” Your fingers tapped on the wooden countertop. “Have you seen Ajax?”

“Oh, yes! I think he’s out by the lake.”

Grateful, you hummed into your hands, letting them be warmed through the ceramic.

“May I ask you something?” she suddenly spoke. It was so unplanned, no hint of the trickery or underhandedness you were accustomed to - when someone in Liyue asks a question of this sort, one must think on it, must contemplate their intentions and how to use it against them - you couldn’t help but nod. She blurted, “Does Ajax seem happy?”

Her gaze fell to the table, tracing its familiar knots and veins. “It’s just…” her thumbs twirled around the handle, nails clinking, “you see him more than me. I mean, at this point, you certainly know him better than me.”

The only thing you could think to do was reach your hand to hers. It was warmer than your own, more wrinkled and crooked, a tree with a life well-lived. “I do. I do think he’s happy.”

That morning, you buttoned your coat yourself, careful not to rip the remaining buttons from their threads. It was a slow task, one that required more precision than you were used to, but it got done all the same.

The walk itself was pleasant, the wind having settled and only dusting the occasional batch of flurries from the trees that danced under the morning sun like birds. You wondered if there were many nests here, if the fledglings could survive these winters. Beneath your boots the fresh snow shifted, and at the edge of the whitened path, a small flock of red flowers poked through the frost.

The lake was still beneath the ice. Ajax sat with his back towards the trail, but didn’t flinch as you approached. He didn’t speak, either.

Instead, he let you sit beside him on the old tree stump, his fingers clutching the fishing rod as its invisible string delved into the icy abyss below.

“Have you caught anything?” you asked.

”Not yet.” He didn’t look at you, he didn’t move a centimeter, not even to breathe. “You know, after so long doing this, you’d think I’d be better at it by now.”

”Is fishing something you can really get better at?”

His lips parted in a grin. “I suppose not. It’s mostly waiting.”

“Are you good at that?”

“No,” he laughed.

“Do you like it?” You leaned onto his shoulder, letting your hair spill over the fur of his coat. It used to smell of salt - now, it was all smoke and wool.

“You aren’t wearing a hat,” he observed.

“I must have forgotten.”

He nodded, a leather-clad hand reaching up to cover your ears. In the wind, the branches shook, and his lure left the water’s surface as smooth as glass.

“Do you think my family is alright?” he finally asked, to no one in particular - perhaps the trees would have answered if they could. But in their stead, you’d have to do.

In the distance, a bird called out its tune, a lilting whistle, and the snow danced in time. “I think they are.”

Beneath your weight, his shoulders relaxed.

“Your mother loves you,” you continued. “Tonia and Teucer, too. They all do.”

Silently, he reeled in the line before placing the rod upright in the snow. When he looked to you, he was smiling. “Let’s go back home.”

The longer you stay, the softer his skin seems to get, in spite of the way the frigid air digs cracks into your own. With each move of your wrist a new crevice makes its way to the surface, rubbed raw and dry. And yet, his fingers still trail lightly over them, soft lips ghosting over bloodied ravines.

“The cold never really bothered me,” he told you years ago, and you thought it strange, but here’s proof: warm, smooth hands, unfrozen. Each joint moves freely, each blood vessel pumps easily, as though they were made for this. He fidgets less here - maybe he always ran hot in Liyue. The heat makes people jumpy, you know.

Yesterday, on your fifth day in Snezhnaya, the snow crunched below your feet as he led you through the woods. You had asked to see the trails that led around the house, and although silently, he nonetheless helped button the grey coat his mother loaned you, tugging a hat over your ears.

He spoke too much while you walked, the sounds bouncing off the frail and peeling bark. “And there are animals out here, if you know where to look,” he rambled. “Rabbits, and bears, you know, and deer, too. You can trace them by their footprints, and it’ll lead you to their dens. Sometimes you have to seek them out, but it’s easy once you know what to look for.” His eyes closed, and you realized his boots left no indentations in the hardening snow. “Some people think the animals are dangerous, but they won’t hurt you, not while you have me here.”

Off in the distance, a branch cracked. Ajax flinched.

Wide eyes scanned the horizon, frenzied. A gloved hand reached for yours, and he pulled you behind him.

The air in his lungs burned cold, and he held it there for three seconds.

“Oh, must just be an old tree,” he laughed, and he took a few steps to hide the way it shook in the wind. “The snow is heavy, especially this time of year. It gets wet and icy, like a hard shell. Sometimes the older trees can’t take it anymore, and they fall.”

You hummed, the breath in front of your lips foggy. The walk continued, and he spoke and spoke and spoke, and the trees listened. You tried to listen half as attentively.

The questions began to stick in the back of your throat, ones you wanted to spit out, ones that tasted thick and bitter and burned your esophagus, ones about the abyss: if it was dark, if the moon shone down there, if he could see the stars or feel the snow. If he remembers where he fell, where the earth opened beneath him and swallowed him whole. If he’d been back there (he hadn’t), if he’s still afraid (he’d tell you he’s not).

He knew the woods well, even though he was only a child in them. 

When you returned home, his cheeks were pink, and he smiled as you unbuttoned the coat bunched up around your neck. In the kitchen, meats and vegetables stewed over the stove, their scents drifting as his mother stirred with her wooden spoon. The logs in the fireplace shifted, sending sparks into the air. His shoulders relaxed, and he hung his own scarf next to yours. It was harder to pick out his freckles through wind-reddened skin, but they’re always there, of course: you know where to look.

You wondered if this is how he carried himself, how he felt, how he smelled, when he was young. If the fourteen-year-old boy who went into the woods was chased because the wolves could smell the smoke and spices and fear lingering on him.

He sounds different here, too.

You’ve rarely heard him speak his native tongue: “It’s a rough language,” he always said; and yet, each consonant that falls from his lips is soft like wool; “You wouldn’t even understand anything I say,” and yet, when he turns to his mother and says “спасибо,” as she hands him his morning tea, the love it carries is enough.

She always smiles and pulls him into a hug, and he always laughs, bright like the crackling flames in the fireplace. She never calls him Tartaglia or Childe; here, he’s always ‘Ajax’ or ‘my son’ or ‘my precious boy’ (he says he hates that one, but he lets her preen his hair, and fidget with his coat, and tell him he looks too serious for his age, too angry).

Here, he has no titles, no violence or conflict or nobility to stare over his shoulder. Here, he’s not a Harbinger, he’s not a killer, he’s just Ajax: a kind boy who wears knit scarves and catches snowflakes and likes to ice fish.

Today, on your sixth day, the mattress shifts under his weight, and his warmth spreads across the bedding as he blankets you, still damp and smelling like the earth, like the trees and the herbs and his childhood. Fresh from the shower, one where the water ran clear instead of red, where there were no crimes or sin to wash away. Droplets land on your cheeks and he giggles as you try to shoo him away with a gentle shove to his shoulders; he lets you push him back onto the quilt his mother made for his tenth birthday, one with images of heroes and swords and the sun. There’s snow falling outside the frosted window and landing heavy on the trees, the ones that don’t mind holding it. Soft hands cradle your skin, and he whispers “I love you,” and his breath is warm, and he smells like pine and rosemary.

[tammyu-2]

Can we get the rottmnt boys (separate) being proposed to by S/o? (They say yes) S/o was acting distant for a while, working late, but was really getting them a ring to fit their huge fingers lol

Ooo this is sorta creative

ROTTMNT MARRIED TO THEIR S/O BUT THEIR S/O STARTS ACTING DISTANT

Swearing, no pronouns used, not proofread, flufffff

Let's get into it yar

LEO

Leo is a very over dramatic jump to conclusions type bf so the mere SECOND your distant for 12 hours he will think you hate him.

Now let's go back a bit. Back when you and Leo first started dating you were going through a rough patch and Leo always knew how to cheer you up in your darkest days. He always gave you the attention you though you didn't deserve and he lifted your spirit as a person. You felt forever indebted to him the way he treats you like his princess. And you've loved him ever since.

With Leo your life got fixed and it felt way more better and freeing (minus the acasional kidnapping from a villian but that's like every 2 weeks now). You has more energy and you genuinely felt happier with Leo as your boyfriend. Therefore you decided after a year or more you wanted to officially tie the note. With Leo.

Never thought I'd see that day coming

But you were nervous. I mean Leo is the type to not even be bound to labels and what if he feels like marriage isn't meant for him?? I mean it's a big step of commitment and no offense on him but the only thing he ever committed on in like (or than your relationship) was the tela Novela he has been watching since he was a baby.

But you pushed aside your doubts and decided to go for it. However due to him being a turtle mutant obviously it would be hard to find a ring that will fit or a jewelry shop that won't question. So you started skipping you hangouts with him on the account of your searching far and wide.

Leo was DISTRAUGHT! I mean the love of his life, his soul, his trust, his sun and his vida had betrayed him by canceling on him MORE THAN ONCE! I mean just say you hate him.

So one day, when you had finally gotten the ring but decided to wait till you had a plan on how you were gonna ask him, he decided he would confront you.

So you when to visit him and his brothers and went into his room only to be greeted by a pointed finger.

"YOU!"

"...me?"

"Do you hate me or something!?"

"Leon what the hell are you talking about."

"Your cheating on me! Who is it huh!? HUH!?"

"No??"

"Oh you must of fallen out of love with me!?-"

"Babe get to the point please."

"You have been neglecting me. Running off to go do whatever and blowing me off!! And not to mention you have been typing non stop on your laptop when I'm over for your stupid 'research project' WELL I DONT BUY IT WHAT DO YOU HAVE TO SAY FOR YOURSELF!?"

"Leo..oh my dear Leon I can't tell you."

"Then I don't know why are we doing this."

"...are you crying? Oh my gosh babe no it's okay-"

"YOU DONT CARE ABOUT MEE"

I could continue but let's be honest it will go on for half an hour so let's just skip this hit because Leo has always been suck a drama queen.

"Okay can you step back a bit"

"What will that do-"

"JUST. do it please."

He steps back as you take a breath before kneeling down on one knee. Leo is utterly confused by now. Then you pull out a beautiful ring and suddenly he is dreaming cause there is no way your doing this right?

"Leon you have brought sunshine to my darkest days and you've stayed when I felt my world had left me. You sat by my side and made sure that even when I thought it was impossible you made me feel joy. There is no better person that I would love asking this to. Leonardo Hamato will you marry me?"

"Are you actually doing this is this actually happening!?"

"It's very real babe."

"Oh my gosh fuck yes!! I'd love to marry you!!!!"

After a very very tight hug and a tender kiss you two laugh at how stupid Leo had been. He couldn't believe that you actually asked him to marry you before he could mostly. But in the end he was just glad you hadn't actually cheated on him.

DONNIE

This is Dontron we are talking about HOW can you possibly keep a secret from him at all. He can hack into anything including your search history or track your phone to see where you go if it's really really important. HOW could you possibly pull this off? Easy. Ask a friend in a sound proof room with no electronics in it.

So you had done just that. Your friend being the kind and generous soul they were decided to help you. So every So often they would come back to you will research they had gathered on rings and sizes and stuff. And you almost got busted one time by him.

"Why were you measuring me in the middle of the night during out sleep over last Tuesday? Specially at 3:45."

"I had a hubba Bubba gum string and wanted to see how many I can wrap around you to make you a giant bubble gum mummy."

"You know you could have just asked me to calculate that instead of just doing it at 3am?"

"Whats the fun in that?"

Not only did you lie out your ass but you made it damn good realistic ish. And he believed it. Mostly because he was half playing a game on his phone but you still managed to get past the Donnie lie detectors.

But ofcourse since he is a mutant with strange hands it was getting harder and harder to find a ring for him. So you had to meet up with your friend more than preferred. And enough that Donnie notices.

First thing he does? Detective research. He searches at where you go to and finds out You've been going your friends house alot more than normal. Especially since you two only ever talk in your friends sound proof studio room. So he can't hear shit because his sound proof breaker had been borrowed and broken by Leo the other week so he was left up to his genius imagination.

So once you got the ring you visited him very veery happy because you wanted to get the lies out of the way immediately knowing Donnie would find out in a matter of time.

"Heyyy Dontron."

"Greetings my not so lovely s/o"

"What do you mean 'not-so-lovely'"

"You don't think I know your hiding something from me?"

Oh your fucked. Your screwed.

"Okay Donnie before you gon on your normal tangent I have something for you that will explain everything!"

"SIGH. Go on.."

You cleared your through and got down and one knee and pushed forward the ring you had bought for him.

"I know your not one for big boring speeches and I also know you like to cut to the chase of things so I'm just gonna say it. Donetello Hamato will you Marry me?"

"Okay."

"YIPPEEEE"

RAPH

You see raph is clueless when it comes to things so hiding a secret proposal from him was pretty easy. You know what wasn't easy? Finding a fitting ring for his big mutated turtle finger. It was HARD. Anything that was close to the side was sold out for inappropriate use. And the rest were WAY out of your price range so you were running a bit low on chance.

So you decided on one however you had no money for it so he took the initiative to bust your ass till you finally got enough for it. You worked day in and day out, taking longer shifts, you did some side gigs and did weekend jobs. You were working and working on the clock that you accidentally forgot your darling boyfriend Raph.

He had been noticing you had been not really cold but more exhausted and closed off. You seem to be tired and you barely ever have time for him which hurts alot if he's honest. Your always busy even in the late hours for work but he knows for a fact that you never work that late. So he began to get paranoid. Especially since he wanted to surprise you with something special he knew you would have liked.

So after weeks of miscommunication and work you finally had enough and more for the ring for Raph. So you decided to treat him to a rooftop picnic as an apology. He accepted it ofcourse and you two just sat on a random apartment building just star gazing and eating pizza. That's when you released his arm from your shoulder and stepped back making him look at you in confusion.

You step back and get on one knee bringing his ring from behind your back.

"Raph I have a very imp-"

"WAIT! Before you do there something you should know."

He shyly pulls out a gorgeous ring for you. Oh my god he was going to propose to you aswell.

"Oh raph...you shouldn't have."

"Uh Raph has been planing this for a while but everytime Raph gets a bit nervous."

"I'm sure you have nothing to worry about now because I guess we both accept. So Raph will you marry me?"

"Only if you would marry me"

"I do"

"I do too"

MIKEY

This poor baby boy is easy to hid things from. Like you could hid a rubber duck from him just by putting it on his head and he wouldn't know a thing. So when you decide to marry him because he had always been there for you. He was the reason you woke up every morning a trudged through the stinky sewer. It was all just to see him face lighten up with joy whenever he spotted you.

So you immediately thought of marrying him after 2 years of bliss. And so due to him kor being a human it took you quite a while. But due to his cluelessness you don't really try that hard to hide it. You just research when your in your house.

However it took you longer than you liked to find not only the perfect size but also the perfect design for your artist boyfriend. So you searched far and wider you took trains after trains to travel to different jewelry stores to find the perfect ring for Mikey because he deserves a proper ring.

However against your better judgement you had no choice but to put your focus on the ring rather than your Mikey. And although he might not be that good at catching onto things he would notice your not as close with him as you were. And it just made him sad that he thought his favorite person hated him.

So one day as you two finally get some alone time as he is painting a wall you decided now is the perfect chance to do it cause you hated lying to Mikey even if it was easy to get away with.

So as he had his back turned, you had gotten on one knee and held his ring out.

"You think that dot of red- OH MY GOSH!!"

"Michelangelo Hamato will you-"

"YES YES YES YES A MILLIONS TIMES YES!!!!"

"I didn't even-"

You were engulfed in a suffocating hug but honestly you didn't care as you hugged back your now fiancé.

Hope that was good and I realise know I accidentally skipped a req whoospie sorry diff req I'll do it eventually.

But I hope you enjoyed and don't be shy to request something from me and my diff fandoms. Just know that I will get to them when I can.

Stay healthy and stay safe!!!!

~Tammy<3

[deerspherestudios]

Short Break and To Dos!

Hello all! 🍄🍄👻 I'm glad to see people enjoying Day 3 so far! I was so nervous about showing another side to Mychael in the update I thought people wouldn't like him as much but plenty have reacted positively! ❤️

I'll add a TLDR; above the read more, but if you don't mind my ramblings and want more details about everything, I'll write everything below! Light spoilers ahead!

I'll be taking a short break from MO development until 28th October to work on a short VN for the Monstrous Desires jam!

Most probably missed it, but there's a tiny small patch to Day 3 explained here.

Queue will return soon! I just gotta handle some housekeeping first with my Patreon.

Regarding the feedback on Day 3, I'm glad people aren't as averse to the new side of Mychael, in that he isn't always soft and sweet. I want people to fall in love with a person after all, not a yandere caricature, and that means that person can get upset, angry and sometimes irrational when we don't know what's going on in their head even towards the subject of their affections. While some (understandably!) were shocked about his reaction to the mushrooms, it'll be clear as to why (hopefully!)

Some of you have given incredibly accurate theories, and I'll take that as something I've done well in building up the mystery!!! I'm excited to share more in the next update, but for now!

1. I'll be taking a short break from MO development to work on a short VN for the Monstrous Desires jam!

What I have planned for Day 4 of MO might be the biggest update so far, since one route will lead to a few official BAD ENDINGS as opposed to 'dead ends' like the current demo has. To those who really want to, you finally get to see Mychael at his worst. As usual, writing the script takes a few months with plenty of changes in between, and I don't wanna bulldoze ahead and rush the story when it's getting to the climax!

But before I jump into all of that I just wanna give myself a creative exercise and try exploring a different theme, style and setting with a fresh new character for the jam! Since I'm a sucker for the trope... yes, the new blorbo will also be a yandere, sorry, I'm predictable.💔 The jam ends on October 28th so development on MO will continue then!

The last time I wrote something remotely sci-fi was in high school, so this will be fun to try!

2. Most probably missed it, but there's a tiny small patch to Day 3 explained here.

What it says on the tin! If you've already played Day 3, rest assured there's no significant story changes. Just an updated credits list, three extra sprites for one route and a small fix in the code.

3. Queue will return soon! I just gotta handle some housekeeping first with my Patreon.

Plenty of people have sent such sweet and encouraging messages to my inbox on what they thought of the update and I cannot thank all of you enough for the support!! I can't wait to post them out to archive them on the blog and answer all your interesting theories and queries in my queue!

But for now I'm due for a short break from my socials and to catch up on my Patreon sketch requests haha. I also plan to release cut content from Day 3 for my Yearling and Deer patrons. Plus, I'll be working on some written prompts for extra lore so that's something to look forward to!

I'll be back soon! Take care, fireflies!! ❤️

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

”why are you so good at that?”

his caress is gentle. tender and steady, and practiced — you can tell, just from the instant relief you feel. the way his fingertips smooth along your skin. 

suguru presses his thumbs into the bridge of your nose, right beneath your forehead, big palms cupping your face. they’re warm, calloused, but still somehow so soft — massaging you gently, in vivid care. the pads of his fingers trail upwards, rubbing soothing little circles against your temples. as if he’s memorized every patch of skin, seen the very inside of your skull. as if he knows exactly where to apply pressure to make the sharp jolts of pain go away. 

and it’s working. the room you’re in is dimly lit, illuminated only by the vermilion rays of the setting sun, bleeding in through the gap between the shoji screens. a faint, summery scent accompanies them; like burnt roses, or a salty ocean breeze, not enough to rouse the nausea in your throat. it’s quiet. all you can hear is the soft humming of your lover, and your own relieved breaths, pulled out by his skillful hands. his pointer fingers pinch between your brows, and another one follows. the sweetest little sigh. 

”am i?” his voice is soft, even more so than usual, as if the slightest noise could disrupt your peace. a smile is knit between the vowels. ”i’m glad.”

he sounds a little tired. it’s been a long day for both of you, so it’s no surprise. when you finally got back home, the inside of your skull was tormented by a persistent ache, and suguru was blinking with fatigue — though he still insisted on doing this. lying you down on his lap, like a fragile doll, crossing his legs to give you enough space to rest comfortably; the back of your head finding respite on his thigh, senses enveloped by the silk of his robes, smelling lightly of cherry blossoms and sandalwood. comfy.

and, after only a couple minutes of his loving treatment, the ache began to dull.

he reminds you to take deep breaths, watching intently as the contours of your face fall back into a state of tranquility. whenever he shifts, the tatami mats beneath him rustle, and your muddled mind sways like the rocking of a boat; slight, but still enough to coax a wince from out your throat, a tiny spark of pain blooming between your sinuses, followed by a murmured apology from the man above you. 

a hum buzzes in his throat. you hear it, eyes still shut, waiting for him to answer your question. and he does, of course — so weak to you, always, your voice the key to his locked-up heart.

”back in high school…” he starts, diligently continuing the facial massage, comforting circles rubbed into your skin. ”... my best friend got migraines often.” 

a soft groan slips from out your parted lips, when he pushes against a certain spot — locating the pressure points like brushing specks of dust from off his clothing. effortless. 

”ah,” you click your tongue, melting into his touch. turning into a boneless puddle, cradled in his lap, comfy as can be. ”your mysterious bestie, again?”

suguru’s mentioned him before, though only in passing. in whispers, comments he hopes will sound absentminded. they never do — because suguru says the word friend like it’s a prayer. 

(that explains it, though. no wonder it feels so good; it is practiced. should you feel jealous?

well, maybe. but you mostly think it’s kind of sweet.)

before you can think of what you’re saying, the words have left your lips. they tumble out like little pizzicato drops, spoken casually. a tiny chirp of a thing.

”you must have loved him a lot.”

…

silence.

for just a moment, the thumbs pressing against your skin halt — just for a second, but enough to notice, and suddenly you feel a little like the air has been sucked out of the room.

even with your eyes closed, you know suguru’s smile is nowhere to be seen. 

it’s funny, how well you’ve come to know him. how you’ve learned to memorize every expression you’ve ever seen him make, any signs of distress or discomfort. he does this thing with his eyes, sometimes — a thin kind of concealment, when you shuffle a little too close for his comfort. figuratively speaking, because you’re almost certain he’d let you crawl under his skin if you asked. but sometimes you twist the key to his heart a little too abruptly, and his eyes of gold and ochre shift in the light, honey clogging the interior of his cornea. something sickly-sweet. something he’s kept locked up for a long time.

a nostalgia so palpable it breaks your heart just to look at it.

you don’t want to open your eyes. you don’t want to see the kind of face he’s making. you don’t want to know if he’s pursing his lips, or furrowing his brows, all because of your carelessly chosen words — you know his old best friend is a sensitive subject. gosh, you’re stupid. 

stupid, stupid, stupid.

(why can’t you ever just read the room?)

blindly, you stumble for something to say, parting your lips. desperate to change the topic — to save him from this suffocating silence.

”yeah.”

… but then suguru speaks.

when your eyes flutter open, he’s looking out into the garden. watching the sun, as it sinks beneath the mountains, lips curved up into a small smile.

”i suppose i did.”

you take a moment to look at him. the bridge of his nose, the firm lines of his jaw — the slightest tremble of the muscle, if you look close enough. and those eyes, set afire by the final rays of the setting sun, burned to ash. filled with… something. not regret.

just longing.

suddenly, the pads of his fingers are dancing along your skin again — gliding down to pinch your nose. it makes you yelp, a tiny squeak.

and then he’s looking at you. 

”but i love you more,” he croons, a little tilt of his head that make his bangs move like a black curtain. eyes swirling with humour, something syrupy and teasing, awfully fond. ”my little dove.”

before you know it, your cheeks are blossoming with warmth; the branches of your lips curling up into a shy smile. his attention is a little too much to bear, so you wriggle out of his grasp — turning around to press your face into his stomach. his sleeves cast a curtain around you, a protective veil, but it’s not long until you’re being coaxed back into your original position.

”ah ah,” he tuts, chiding you lovingly; a coo in the back of his throat. ”none of that. let me take care of you.”

all you can do is groan, meekly, squeezing your eyes shut. suguru only chuckles, cupping your cheeks and continuing to apply pressure on your forehead and nose, large warm palms against your chilled skin — unwilling to let you escape his pampering.

the sun sets eventually. but he keeps you on his lap until the headache has faded, until your eyelids have dragged you into a deep slumber, until tiny snores are seeping from your parted lips. until the moon has pulled itself into the night sky above you.

somehow, even on the brink of exhaustion, you manage to feel his warm lips against your forehead; hear the muffled murmur against your skin.

”sweet dreams, my darling,” comes a whisper, deep and silky, coaxing you further into the cradle of sleep. his thumb smooths along your cheekbone, down to the curve of your jaw — a trail of warmth. ”come back to me soon, won’t you?”

he smiles. you feel it, that soft upward curve, a blissed out sensation drowning you in white noise. the space inside your mind is free of pain, filled only with thoughts of him, the lines of his fingers burning patterns into your skin. one final kiss between your brows, and then he’s pulling away; curling his arms under your knees and hoisting you up. into his steady arms, his robes shielding you from the soft glow of the stars.

”… don’t dawdle in dreamland for too long.”

the whisper goes unheard. fast asleep, suguru can only gaze at you, drinking in the serenity on your expression. trying not to remember a boy with blue eyes; the one he wore once his migraines had begun to fade. so similar, he thinks he could die from it.

like an injured animal, soothed to sleep.

he shakes his head, and carries you towards the bedroom. safe and sound in his embrace.

[iku-tihku]

You're wife goes looking for you and finds that, unfortunately, you've walked into the sea.

Female Yautja x Human!Reader

Worry fills her heart to the brim. You are worthy, yes, that she never questioned, but her home was dangerous to her kin, never mind something like you, small, unarmored, unprepared, save for the spear that seemed to be missing from your shared home. A home she'd turned upside down as she frantically searched for you everywhere, first amongst the bedding, beneath every piece of furniture, amongst the trophies and shamefully, she would admit that she stuck her face into the ventilation of the house. Only when T'raka pointed out he'd seen you leave the nest some time ago, did she come to terms with reality that yes you'd left your home, and likely the encampment.

Con'feth's only respite were the still warm footprints you'd left behind, but the fact you were headed toward the sea alone was what worried her the most. Beasts of the land were difficult enough for her kind to kill, those who resided beneath the waves proved a greater challenge still. Thousands of her brethren had sunk to the sea floor in an attempt to fell a sea beast. Quick, clever, brutal, utterly merciless, no doubt how many saw her own kind. They were right, of course, except she'd shown mercy once, when she found herself on a small, blue planet, faced with one of its native inhabitants. It was a memory she'd often look upon with favor and a click of her mandibles.

The little foot steps wandered through the forest, avoiding the red swamps entirely, though no doubt it added no small amount of time to the journey. They'd stuck to the forest undergrowth, traveling on the wet patches as often as they could as to avoid heat traces, though leaving behind small trinkets, and hand built landmarks. Stacked sticks, broken branches, something they both could track, yet something a beast could not.

A simple trick, but one she appreciated nonetheless.

While they'd ignored her advice about staying close to the main encampment she and her people had built, they'd done everything else exactly as she'd asked, that, too, was some solace. With each step, there was a small, round divot in the ground, as to see if the mud hid any holes that might drown those unaware of them. Considering the few times the footsteps diverted from the straight path they were taking, it was clear there were more than one hole that needed to be filled up. The sticks near the holes indicated her mate had thought of the same thing. She was glad her mate was wise enough to listen, wise enough to think ahead, but she couldn't help but occasionally lament the fact that they'd also wander too far from the nest, nothing had happened yet, but, unlike her mate, tried to avoid the someday when something would happen.

'A kurn or two would be something to consider, if they were this insistent on walking into the woods alone' she thought to herself as she finally reached the shores of her home planet, and worryingly, her mates footsteps faded into the ocean, salt water and sand having filled the footsteps that went beyond the strand line.

Why?

Why, why, why on earth would you go willingly into the sea? Had she not told you about its monsters? Warned you of its dangers? The sea itself felt like a monster, as calm as it was now, it was unpredictable, ever changing, the calm could turn into a horrible storm in a matter of minutes, robbing the seaside of its peace, and sealing her mate beneath the waves forever more. She was faced with a monster she could never hope to kill, and her mate had willingly walked into its maw.

Why?

No time to wait, or ask further questions, she had to act if she hoped to have any chance of seeing them again alive. With swift movements her pelts dropped to the ground along with the gear that'd only weigh her down. With slight hesitation, she took off the jewelry you'd fashioned for her.

She turned to face the sea with a heavy glare, as if her eyes alone could turn the churning of the sea in her favor, as if her menacing look would make it spit out her mate.

By some miracle... it did just that. Just as the tide pulled back, there you were again, on all fours, holding onto something beneath the sand as the tide tried to pull you away, and something clutched between you teeth. Wasting no time she rushed to your side, plucking you from the heavy sand with ease and carrying you back to the shore before you could so much as even make a peep in confusion.

Your body was first check for any wounds, each limb traced over and search meticulously for any point of entry for infections. As the worst she found were small scrapes, she couldn't help but gently squeeze your cheeks, noting that whatever you'd caught was still between your teeth, choosing to ignore it for now, she could only ask "why".

You drop the fish in your hands, offering it to your beautiful, terrifying wife, "you said you liked these ones, so I went out and got one for you".

Oh, her little human mate. Blood of her heart. As much as she loves you, she couldn't deny the fact you also were by far the most stressful person she's ever met.

^ hunting food for wife, colorized.