#i really do need to take a day to just. answer All of them at once 😭 i’m sorry for being so slow!!! i’m very excited to reply to them!!!!!!

[prael]

Day 6: Revenge Or Fate

IOI/Gugudan Sejeong x male reader smut

words: 5,611 12 Days of Praelmas Masterlist

"What's that look for?" you ask with all the whimsy you can muster. "I only said that I bought your favourite popcorn. Why are you staring at me as if I just got down on one knee and proposed?"

"You did say you'd marry me someday," Sejeong jokes. Then she does that thing she always does when she's nervous—tugging at the lobe of her ear.

You roll your eyes. "Yeah. I mean when we are both in our sixties. When you have become the crazy cat lady and I the bachelor with a penchant for wine and cigarettes. It's not even close to that time yet."

"Why would you be smoking?" Sejeong wrinkles her nose. She knows you can't stand the smell.

"Because I'll be an ageing bachelor, duh," you answer with a dismissive wave of a hand as you sit by her on the couch. She's got her legs curled up against her chest, the way she always does when it's cold outside. You'd know—she's been sitting like that on your couch every winter since the beginning of time.

She lets out the softest of laughs before it quickly dissipates into silence. She's staring across the room, but not really looking at anything. Her face is painted in melancholy. You know her well enough to know that look, and you hate it. Hate everything it represents. You sigh. The first time you saw her like this was back as teenagers, after the dog she grew up with had been hit by a car. It still hurts your chest.

"You've got that look again," you tell her. "Like there's a million and one things in your mind and none of them particularly good."

"I'm okay. Just tired." Sejeong's smile doesn't quite convince you.

"I wasn't going to say anything. I thought you'd tell me if you wanted me to know, but it's been months since you asked me to come over on a Friday night, so something has happened. I haven't seen this much annoyance behind your eyes since the end of Game Of Thrones. What is it?"

"I'm just feeling overwhelmed, that's all. I wish you weren't so observant."

"You should be used to it by now."

Sejeong flashes a half-hearted smile and takes hold of your hand as she used to do when you were kids. You feel guilty for the way your stomach flutters.

"I guess we have always known each other better than anyone else," she admits, her hand still clasped around yours. It's warm and familiar. You feel the urge to push away, but how can you? It would give far too much away. She has always had this effect on you—you could never distance yourself from her warmth. "He's an asshole."

"You don't need to tell me twice," you chuckle. Then: "Tell me what happened."

"I think he might be cheating."

The air escapes from you at once. The way Sejeong said it is so casual, almost as if she'd resigned herself to this fate a long time ago. And here you are, trying your best to keep your anger under control, like always. But not for her sake—rather, for yours. You know where your feelings belong, and they have no place in the situation at hand. Not today, and definitely not ever. You take a deep breath and look her square in the eye.

"What did he do?"

"I shouldn't have mentioned it," she laughs nervously. She doesn't want to put any more weight on your shoulders than she already has, because that's who she is, you suppose. But how can she expect you to ignore it when she looks like a sad dog staring into the rain on someone's front porch?

"We're best friends. I want to hear everything," you insist.

"He's been acting differently lately." Sejeong pauses. "Distant. Like there's something he isn't telling me."

"Do you think there might be?" you ask carefully.

"It's always something with work. Or a friend that really needs him. Or a family member or—fuck. I don't know."

"I'm sorry."

Sejeong sighs and runs a hand through her hair. There are unshed tears in her eyes. This bastard is making her cry. You want to smash something, preferably his head.

"I don't wanna bother you with this shit," she whispers. She sounds exhausted.

"Don't say that," you retort softly, squeezing her hand in yours. It's clammy. "Don't ever say that again."

She gives a curt nod.

"God knows I've told you enough about my romantic misadventures over the years," you joke. Your chest tightens when Sejeong lets out the tiniest of laughs. Maybe you can still make this right, whatever this is. "Misery loves company."

"You know," she begins, pausing to look at you properly. There is something unreadable in her gaze, something that you've never seen before. It makes you hold your breath in anticipation of whatever is to come. "If there's one person I could choose to be miserable with, it would be you."

For a brief second, you forget that time exists.

"Well, I'm very honoured," you reply eventually. There's another pause where you ponder what to say next. Then, simply, because that seems like the easiest answer: "Do you want me to go beat him up?"

Sejeong laughs and punches you in the arm.

"I thought you were a pacifist?"

"Yeah, but exceptions must be made sometimes."

She raises an eyebrow at you. You can't tell what she's thinking. "For me?"

"Yes."

It feels like standing on a cliff. You want nothing more than to jump, to feel freefall in your whole body. The only problem is that you'll most certainly die. The ground below is made of jagged rocks and bad ideas. Yet, here you stand, willing to do anything in the world for the beautiful girl next to you. Even if it means lying broken beyond repair.

Sejeong breaks your trance when she explains, "There's this girl he works with. We had dinner together with some people from their office two weeks ago, and... I don't know. They just seemed off. She kept looking at him. You know that look? The one where they linger on someone just a bit too long."

"So that's what gave it away?"

"Well, that and the rumour. They had a thing before he met me. It's over now, or it was." A single tear rolls down her cheek. She wipes it away quickly, seemingly irritated at herself. You frown. Sejeong has no reason to be ashamed of being hurt. She should be allowed to shed tears, even buckets full if necessary. You wouldn't judge. "At least that's what he said. He promised me it was over. But... God."

You reach forward to wipe the tears from her cheeks. Her lips tremble, so you quickly move your eyes back up. Staring at her lips is dangerous territory.

"You don't deserve this shit," you say resolutely.

Sejeong chuckles sarcastically. "Then why do I keep ending up here?"

That question stings. Not because it's directed at you—it isn't—but rather because you know the answer. Sejeong has been in this kind of position too many times to count. She attracts guys like honey does flies; every single time, with no exceptions. Only the worst seem to make it past the rest. Sejeong gets caught in their deceitful net time and time again, only to inevitably break her heart after months and months of manipulation disguised as devotion.

"Want my honest answer?"

"Yes."

"I think it's because you're the sort of person that believes the best in everyone. And that is a beautiful trait. I love that you do that. I really do. But sometimes..." you trail off, not quite sure how to continue without sounding accusatory.

"Sometimes I get screwed over," Sejeong finishes. You nod in response. "You're right. I guess it's my fault for trusting too easily."

"No," you shake your head. "It's not your fault. That part is absolutely wonderful. It's just..." You're suddenly hesitant. What if Sejeong takes this the wrong way and shuts you out?

"What?" she probes.

"Have you ever heard the expression 'you can't see the tree for the woods'?"

"Sounds stupid."

"It means you can't see what's right in front of your nose," you explain.

Sejeong stares at you for a long time. You think she understands, but it's impossible to know. It would probably be better that way—if she understood and did nothing about it. You aren't supposed to feel this way about her. How many times haven't you imagined what it would be like if things were different? If circumstances were perfect, if her current guy hadn't appeared out of anywhere and swept her off her feet before you'd even realised what was happening.

But that's just your luck.

"Thank you," Sejeong whispers. "Can we, um, watch something? I don't wanna think about this right now."

You let out an awkward cough. "Yeah. Yeah, of course. Do you remember when you forced me to watch Twilight, and I spent the entirety of the movie complaining about how terrible it was?"

"You still watched all of them with me." A tiny grin appears on her face. Thank God.

"That was truly the highest form of torture," you joke. "I hope you brought something better today. Please don't tell me you downloaded another movie about sparkly vampires."

Sejeong punches your arm. "I'll have you know I am extremely cultured nowadays."

"Yeah? Show me then."

A couple of hours pass and everything feels decidedly normal. You rest against the arm of the couch and Sejeong rests against you. You make jokes at the expense of the film as you always do and she laughs that soft, carefree laugh of hers. The credits roll and Sejeong sits up, stretching her limbs like a cat after a nap. You smile at the familiarity of it all. For a moment it doesn't matter what she has—or hasn't—been crying over.

"I'm tired," she says. She blinks slowly as if to prove it to herself. It's quite endearing, actually.

"Yeah?" you ask nonchalantly.

"Will you let me stay here tonight?" Her voice is small, unsure. But why? It's not the first time she has stayed here. This place is practically a second home to her.

"Like you need to ask," you retort lightly as you stand up and look down at her.

She opens her mouth to speak, but that's when her phone rings. When she sees his name flashing across the screen, she visibly freezes. Annoyance seeps into you like acid rain. His nerve—to call at such an hour, and expect her to pick up. Sejeong just watches, almost paralyzed, until eventually, she does pick up.

"Hey," is all she says. The reply is much longer. You can't make out the words he's saying but the tone tells you all you need to know.

"I was going to," Sejeong replies tersely. Silence. Then: "I told you already, I went over to—" Pause. She swallows thickly. "You didn't tell me you were going out." A longer stretch of silence, during which his voice gradually increases in volume. Suddenly Sejeong sits bolt upright. Her eyes grow wide with confusion and disbelief.

"Me!?" She shouts. "He's my best friend! I wouldn't—" Another pause. She takes a deep breath. "No. No, that isn't fair. You can't—"

It sounds like he hangs up. Sejeong doesn't move. Her hands are shaking violently.

"Do I even wanna know?"

"I should go home," she murmurs flatly.

"To him? To the guy who's probably just fucked his co-worker?"

Sejeong turns to glare at you, eyes cold as ice. You immediately regret your words.

"I'm sorry," you quickly amend. "That was uncalled for. It's none of my business. I shouldn't have said that."

"Why?" she asks bluntly. Your heartbeat picks up in a hurry. There's anger in her eyes. Anger that could turn against you so quickly.

"Why what?" you reply defensively.

"Why don't you wanna be with anyone? You've rejected every single person who's tried to get close to you since we were sixteen. There's got to be a reason."

The world grinds to a halt. Time, space, and life itself stop existing for a minute while you consider your options. On the one hand, you could lie; come up with a suitable excuse and maybe she won't push for more. On the other hand, you could simply admit to the truth that's haunted you for years.

You open your mouth. Close it. Fuck.

Sejeong stands up, wading in the silence towards you. You can't help but take a step backwards. In that split second, you're sure she knows—and yet you cannot tell.

"Have you ever loved anyone?" Sejeong demands to know.

Your heartbeat roars in your ears. "I don't understand why you're asking me this," you choke out. A part of you wishes you were back there on the cliff. At least then you could've jumped off of your own accord, with a little dignity left intact.

"I need to know," is all Sejeong says. Her gaze is relentless. You hate it. It makes you want to claw your own skin off—and there are truths under there that you plan to take to the grave.

"Why?"

"Because I need to know if what I'm going to do next is the right thing."

She stands beside you now. On the edge of that cliff, though it's starting to feel more like you're on the roof of your car. Staring up at the stars on some forgotten summer night. The jump seems more like a flight.

"I have," you admit. Somehow it seems easier than to try and fight whatever force is controlling the both of you. It feels strangely liberating.

"But you won't allow yourself to do anything about it." You know her well enough to discern a question from a statement, no matter how carefully she might try to veil them as the latter.

"It's complicated," you say quietly. She's so close to you now that you can hear the hitch in her breath. Why is she pushing this? "Why are you doing this?"

Her eyes flit from yours to your lips, then back again. So quickly. One, two. But you saw it. And your entire body tingles in anticipation. You'll dare move away—not now, not when the leap of faith feels more like a hop.

She doesn't say anything else. One more small step and her body collides with yours. Lips press against lips and suddenly, all thought scatters. Sejeong tangles her fingers through your hair and pulls. A gasp escapes you before you regain control and kiss her properly. It's frantic, rushed. Years of pining bleed out with every touch. You grab her, pull her as close to your body as possible, and lose yourself completely. Something is swelling inside you. A feeling so large and uncontainable that you think your chest is going to explode any second.

It is indescribable.

All of it—the sensation of kissing her, holding her—surpasses description. You're falling from that cliff, but she's holding you, and before you can hit the rocks she's dragging you to the couch and climbing on top of you.

It feels unreal. The entire world disappears as your lips find hers again and again and again. You don't care to question what happens after. This moment is yours, forever branded in your memories, and nothing can take that away from you. Even if it ends here—even if she were to walk away now—it would've been worth it. Completely and irrevocably.

When you finally part to catch your breath, you can't help but stare at her in awe. She's so beautiful. A masterpiece. Your hand moves to her cheek almost automatically. Sejeong lets her head fall against it with a soft sigh.

"Wow," she whispers.

"Yeah," you croak.

"Please don't regret this in the morning." Her voice is so quiet, filled with so much pain, that it breaks your heart. Your own fears are secondary.

"I never could," you breathe. Then you lean in to kiss her again, slower this time, savouring every sensation as if it might be the last. By some miracle she responds eagerly, fingers wrapping around the collar of your shirt as she holds you steady. You have no idea where this leaves the two of you, but you want her closer—now. You reach around and slide your hands under her thighs, pulling gently upwards. She follows your lead, settling against your lap in a way that makes the situation undeniably real.

As you kiss, her hips start moving back and forth. Soft, shallow movements. Little whimpers escape her throat and fall directly into your mouth. Fuck. She moans—actually moans—into the kiss and a violent shiver travels through your whole body. You break away momentarily to look at her face, flushed cheeks and half-lidded eyes staring back at you.

"Do that again," you whisper against her lips.

"Make me," she pants.

The next kiss is searing, open-mouthed, and accompanied by Sejeong grinding her hips against you. Harder now. Unrelenting. Your hands travel up her waist, slipping beneath her blouse to feel warm skin underneath. You feel every tremble of her body when your fingernails drag lightly across her flesh. A gasp—then she leans backwards, with her arms outstretched and clinging behind your neck, to look you dead in the eye as she continues moving her hips against you.

"Sejeong... What are we—"

"Shh."

Your hands snake further up her shirt. Her back arches in response as she grinds down hard, moaning loudly. Your eyes flutter shut briefly to enjoy the sensations—the sounds—coming from her. You force them open once more because you can't miss this show for anything. You push the shirt up and over her chest. Her hands slip from behind your neck momentarily so that you can get the garment over her head. And then she is there before you, bra and sweatpants-clad, panting softly and waiting.

"Sejeong—"

"Fuck me." It is barely more than a whimper, but it rattles the very core of your being.

"What?"

She lunges forward and kisses you forcefully. There are tears in her eyes—tears you didn't notice until now. Her desperation bleeds through.

"Please," she whispers into your mouth, her voice breaking slightly. "Please."

You can't deny her. How could you? You're unfastening the clasp of her bra and your hands are everywhere on her. Pulling her closer, exploring every inch of bare skin you can get your hands on. Her fingers start unbuttoning your shirt—clumsily, but getting the job done. Once open, her nails dig into your bare shoulders, as if testing out whether you're really here, tangible and real. As if you could disappear at any moment and leave her stranded. A loud groan escapes her when your fingers brush against her nipples.

"You're so fucking beautiful," you murmur into her ear. She whines at the words, nails digging deeper into your skin.

The friction between your legs is driving you mad. You've got the burning urge to pick her up and slam her into the nearest wall, but you savour what you have. First, you kiss her neck, then it's a trail down her collarbones. Your teeth nibble playfully at the skin until she moans, begging you to do something. You obey, leaning in to flick your tongue across a nipple before swirling it around the bud. Her fingers fly into your hair and hold you against her breast.

"Holy shit."

Your mouth latches on tighter. Sucking. Biting. The heat pooling between you grows more intense. Eventually, you detach and move on to the next, eliciting more delicious sounds from the girl above you. All those nights spent fantasising about exactly this don't come close to the real experience. You're supporting her, around the waist and the small of her back, while she leans back in your lap, presenting herself to you.

You appreciate every inch of her slender figure. By eye and then by tongue. You draw constellations along her skin, your touch is feather-light. Across her toned stomach to her hips, then right up the side of her body. She throws an arm above her head and giggles lightly as you lick all the way up underneath it. You follow a path to her armpit. Sejeong giggles more when you begin to nibble there too. When you raise your eyes to meet hers she blushes fiercely.

"Weirdo."

"Just appreciating you," you murmur, pressing soft kisses against her shoulder and up to her neck.

"Mm. I like it," she replies hoarsely.

So you spend some time like this. Appreciating her bare body and making her squirm. Kissing, licking, and biting everything that you can possibly reach until her writhing becomes borderline violent. Then she grabs a hold of your jaw, looks you deep in the eyes, and utters the most sinful words you've ever heard her say.

"Enough teasing. I want to ride your cock now."

Every inch of you lights on fire. From your forehead to the tips of your toes, you feel flames lick at your insides. Sejeong climbs off you without another word and starts pushing her sweats from her hips. You watch, spellbound, as she wiggles out of them. Her panties follow suit.

Then she turns to face you. Standing fully nude, absolutely breathtaking in every sense of the word. A goddess. Every bit as perfect as you had imagined. Even your fantasies weren't this good; nowhere near as intoxicating as this moment right now.

"You have ten seconds before I sit on your face instead," she deadpans, you both laugh. At least she hasn't lost her humour.

You unbuckle your belt and shuffle them down as best you can while still seated. Enough that she can reach down and pull your cock free from its confines. Your eyes roll to the back of your skull when she wraps her slim fingers around it. Pumping up and down. You're hard already, unbelievably so, and when she drags her thumb across the head of your dick it actually twitches. You suck in a deep breath, willing yourself to focus.

And then she sits on your lap, sliding along the length of your cock. Fuck. She repeats it a few times. Back and forth, slicking your cock with her wetness.

"I always pictured this," she admits.

"Really?" you croak.

"God yeah, I remember back in college. I must have rubbed one out to you more times than I can count." She smirks at you then—a wicked smirk that makes your entire body shiver. A filthy admission to you and you only. She does it again, drags her wetness along you. How on earth are you supposed to remain composed when she says things like that and does things like this? You wrap an arm around her back and pull her closer, staring at her as if seeing her for the very first time.

"You can't say things like that, I'm gonna—"

She cuts you off with her tongue in your mouth. Kissing you like it's the last thing she'll ever do, and your lips the only form of sustenance she'll ever need. It gives way to her frantic little moan, desperate and unrestrained. For the life of you you can't comprehend what is happening, only react, and fuck if it isn't the most incredible experience you've ever had. Her skin is burning against yours, hungry and yielding to your every touch.

Sejeong shifts slightly and grabs a hold of you properly. Your eyes widen when the tip of your dick brushes against something wet, warm, and soft. The very centre of her. She repositions herself, now holding you carefully against her, and then... slides down the length of your cock, pausing halfway down. The pleasure is so acute that you cannot control the way your back arches off the couch, and neither do you control the profanities that spill out from your lips.

A sinful grin spreads across her face. As her legs are pinned around your waist, you cannot move, but Sejeong certainly can. And boy, does she know how. She starts bouncing herself up and down, riding you so expertly and looking so good doing it. You've thought of this so many times—having sex with your best friend, of all people—but you did not picture it like this.

"This okay?" she murmurs in your ear. You hear the smile in her voice.

You utter the only word you can muster: "Yes."

She laughs airily, placing a kiss on your temple as she continues her rhythm. When she moans—a long, drawn-out moan, half-pained, half-pleasured—and throws her head back, you stare up at her, eyes drinking in the beauty that is in a position so incredibly vulnerable yet completely in control. How you long to capture this moment and keep it somewhere safe forever. She looks down at you now. Her heavy-lidded eyes pin you to your spot as much as the physical manifestation of her pinned against your skin. She traces her fingers down your jaw, your neck, and the top of your chest.

"I wish he could see me now," Sejeong hisses, anguish evident in her voice.

"You look so fucking good."

"He doesn't know what he had," she laughs bitterly. "Fuck him."

"Fuck him," you echo. Sejeong smirks and moves her hips more fluidly. Goddamn. Her tight little cunt feels so perfect clenched around your cock.

She watches your face closely as she keeps riding you. As you keep clutching her hips and help her along, grinding deeper. Groaning when she throws her hips forward faster and faster. Her cunt is so hot and tight. She sucks at the life seeping out of your pulsating cock and squeezes it with her inner muscles in ways that no one has ever done before. Sometimes she pulls completely off you, her breath shuddering as you twitch, only to take you deep inside her again.

Your hands have a mind of their own, sneaking upwards to grip her neck. You give it a gentle squeeze, just enough to get her attention. All the while you're staring intensely into her eyes. They've become glassy, intoxicated, more than just wanting but longing for it. Her voice is hoarse, strained, as she says, "How have I been so stupid? All this time—you're right here, and I never—"

"It doesn't matter. None of that matters."

"You're so—fuck."

Her body trembles and she falls forward onto you. She's gripping your arms, nails sinking into your flesh. Sejeong's breath grows increasingly laboured. After a long string of expletives, she lets her head rest on your shoulder as you snake an arm around her back and support her. Her whole body is rigid, teetering on the edge of an orgasm.

"Never felt this good," she forces the words out amid moans as you buck your hips up into her, picking up the slack as she begins to falter. The rhythm is quick now, urgent, filled with unbridled passion and everything left unspoken for too long.

When Sejeong cums, you feel it all around you—her pussy quivering, leaking her arousal around you, dripping down your thighs and saturating you, almost drowning in the intensity. It makes her moan into the crook of your neck and rock her hips, fucking herself while trying desperately to quiet the sounds of her ecstasy against your body. But that is unthinkable, to silence someone like that, and you tell her so. Whispering the filthiest things in her ear as she throbs around your cock, dragging out the last tremors of pleasure of her orgasm as much as you possibly can. She spills everything out into your shoulder, every word, every whimper. Until at last, you can feel her sagging in your lap, breathing heavily and spent.

"Keep going," she pants, tightening her grip on your arm. "Don't stop."

She throws herself to the side, pulling you with her, and somehow lands flat on her back with your body on top of her. You wince at the sudden shift. But not for long. Because Sejeong opens her legs wide, hooks her calves around your hips, and tells you again not to stop.

You smirk and lean forward, trapping her beneath your body and capturing her lips in a sensual kiss. It is deliberate, lingering. Her arms fly up and tangle themselves through your hair, locking you together. When your tongues meet, you sigh deeply against her. There is a warmth settling over you. Languid, dream-like. Like you're both floating through clouds, carried away by the sweetest of breezes.

There is nowhere else in the world that you would rather be than right here, between her legs.

You rock into her, once, then twice, each time more intense than the last. The angle is entirely different. You grab a hold of one of her legs and hitch it up a bit, allowing yourself to thrust deeper inside her.

"Are you okay?"

"Mm. Move slower. Nice and slow," she instructs.

And you do. Eventually, a hand comes up to cup the nape of your neck. Sejeong stares into your eyes and your breath catches. Then you're kissing, again and again, but there is not so much desperation and anger anymore, but something else. It is the feel of her hips meeting yours, the way you press your bodies together, the softness of her lips and the taste of her mouth. Her breaths rush from her lips to yours, from hers into you.

Sweat starts to bead at your temples as you rock into her. Slow, deep, patient strokes. It is not desperate fucking anymore, or an attempt to pour all of your heartbreak into some meaningless action. It's almost reverential—the way you're holding each other, soft and sure. A sweet torture, a sublime suffering, for as long as time allows.

You don't talk. Your mouths say nothing, at least. With your bodies, however, your fingertips whisper praise against her skin. Spirits float free and serenade each other. Sounds escape her that you haven't even dreamed of. Broken, wanton, as if wrenched out of her. They rise above and meet in a higher plane of reality, where two minds are one.

It takes time. A slow build to the crescendo. You know when you've struck the final note by the way she cries out, over and over again, her pretty little hole convulsing, spasming around your cock. She wants to squirm away but has nowhere to go. You refuse to let her. You smile against her neck and sink your teeth into the skin there.

Soon you follow, groaning her name into the warm flesh. It's a flood—your insides are melting, pouring out from your loins and into her heat, her insides contracting, trapping every ounce inside. Hot, sticky, yours. This feeling. It is as if your heart has grown wings, a phoenix born anew from the ashes of who you used to be. You don't have to be lost anymore. She will carry you, always, her fingernails tracing patterns in your damp skin. There is nothing to fear.

Sejeong whines and moans softly as you fill her. One more careful thrust and you still, collapsing on top of her as the waves subside. All the while she is there, stroking the back of your neck and quietly reciting every piece of filth that she can think of.

You wonder whether this will last longer than the night.

God. Would you be okay with that?

When you eventually move back to look at her, to make sure she's okay, there are tears in her eyes. Uncertainty overwhelms you. Before you can react, before you can ask what is wrong, Sejeong cups your cheek. "Thank you," she whispers, eyes boring into yours with an intensity that takes your breath away. This girl. All these years. All the wasted time. It feels right being with her; everything is finally where it should have been all along.

"You were worth the wait," you breathe. You place a kiss against her brow before rolling off and settling next to her.

"Do you..." Her voice fades. She runs a finger along your collarbone, eyes anywhere but yours. "Do you want this to be a one-time thing?

"No," you answer without hesitation. You catch her hand in yours, entangling your fingers, willing her to understand everything that you're unable to tell her.

Sejeong smiles. Genuine, unapologetic. For the first time in months, she looks happy. Fuck him, indeed. "Good," she says with a soft laugh that evaporates any of her lingering doubts. Her eyes flick to your lips and she whispers, "So, uh, we've got some lost time to make up for."

"Yeah?" you whisper while rolling her back over and climbing over her. "If there's a debt to be paid..." You start trailing kisses down her neck, down her sternum, grinning at the tiny shivers it elicits. "What better time than now?"

Your kisses lead you over her toned stomach. Once you reach the juncture between her thighs, you pick up her leg and set it over your shoulder. Sejeong is already squirming, anticipating what is to come. You take a look at her—mussed hair and flushed cheeks, mouth slightly open, beautiful, tempting. It feels almost gratuitous—that you're able to see her like this. It makes you pull her even closer, and stick your tongue into her center. Her upper body lifts almost immediately and her eyes fly open. A shaky whimper leaves her lips.

She's right. There is a lot of catching up to do. Luckily for her, there's still the whole night ahead of you and a lot more you'd like to show her.

[nrc-ramshackle-prefect]

Gonna answer these here💪

1. what is your muse's sexual/romantic orientation? Bisexual.

2. has your muse been mainly attracted to masculinity, femininity, androgyny, or an even split (between two, many, or all of the options specified)? I like twinks and femboys, but god DAMN i will not turn down a man with muscles.

3. has your muse been mainly attracted to men, women, non-binary people, another identity not specified, or an even split (between two, many, or all of the options specified)? Mostly men, but ive dated women and nb people before.

4. does your muse find any specific features particularly attractive? I like when people are gentlemen, or are just straight up little shits™️

5. what is your muse's ideal first date? Cuddles, a movie, and food.

6. would your muse kiss on the first date? If the other wants to.

7. where is your muse most sensitive? Emotionally? My heart. Its pretty easy to hurt my feelings, but I hide it well. Physically? ..My hands. I always wear gloves, but skin-to-skin handholding could make me cry.

8. is your muse a good kisser? are they experienced or inexperienced? Eh, somewhere inbetween.

9. is your muse monogamous or polyamorous? would they be interested in a polyamorous relationship? I dont mind either. So as long as im not alone..

10. has your muse ever been cheated on? would they ever cheat on their partner(s)? I was cheated on once. The fucker never saw the light of day. I would never do that to anyone.

11. how comfortable is your muse with their appearance and their body? ..not at all.

12. does your muse get flustered easily? how would they typically react to compliments from someone they are interested in/dating? Surprisingly so, yes. Im not used to compliments.

13. what traits does your muse value in a romantic partner? Someone kind, someone who can understand me and be sympathetic. But also someone who wont get terrified if I fight and or kill for them.

14. what traits does your muse want to avoid when it comes to choosing a romantic partner? A major red-flag for me is men who dont care where you are or what youre doing. Its a sign of liars and cheaters, in my experience.

15. how does your muse feel about valentine's day? I hate it. Its a corporate holiday.

16. what is/are your muse's love language(s)? Love languages? Physical touch, quality time, and gifting/cooking.

17. what are some of the signs that your muse shows their care/love without saying they love/care about their partner? If I cook for them or ask if theyve eaten. I dont want them ending up like me.

18. how does your muse feel about marriage? would they ever want to get married? Yes. I really do. I dont want a big wedding, but I want a wedding.

19. how many serious relationships has your muse been in? are they experienced or inexperienced when it comes to dating? A few. People havent liked me much before I came to twisted wonderland.

20. how does your muse feel about public displays of affection? would they engage in them? No. If my partner does, let them. But me? Hell no.

21. is your muse more flirtatious or shy, or does it depend on the context? Depends on context, I guess. I can flirt without getting flustered, but if im being flirted with, I might pass out.

22. does your muse tend to take on a more dominant or submissive role in the relationship, or does it vary based on circumstance? It varies.

23. would your muse be good at recognizing their partner's needs right away, or would it take some time? Yes. I understand people more than I let on. I used to be social, y’know.

24. is your muse proactive in communication with their partner(s), or is this something they need to work on? I communicate either too much, or too little.

25. does love and romance mean a lot to your muse? do they seek it constantly or let it come when it does? It.. Means more to me than I let on.

26. is your muse more likely to be loud and proud about being in a relationship, or are they more quiet about it at first and open up about it over time? HELL. NO. Theyll find out through word of mouth, or through my partner.

27. is your muse more confident or shy when it comes to approaching someone they like? Usually? Both.

28. would it bother your muse if they had differing interests from their partner(s), or would they delight in it? My partners like what they like, its no big deal.

29. how important is having (a) physically attractive partner(s) to your muse? I mean.. Just look at Ace.

30. would your muse ever be in an open/non-exclusive relationship? would it make them insecure, or would they be open to trying it? I.. Have tried. It ended up in a broken heart and two months of being in a mental hospital.

31. does your muse develop crushes easily? would they be open about it to a friend or keep it to themselves? I.. Do. Unfortunately.

32. does your muse have an ideal "type"? No. Not really. I just prefer people who understand what ive gone through and want to help me get through my greif.

@nrcsfavoriteshrimps @bubblin-trouble @floyd-leech-thing @seven-seas-octavinelle (blogs i felt should see this cuz i interact often)

ROMANCE & RELATIONSHIP HEADCANONS !

i know this topic is a bit overdone, but i wanted to make a more sfw romance & relationship headcanon meme! most if not all of these questions are related to romance and topics that may arise within romantic relationships, but without explicit nsfw topics!

1. what is your muse's sexual/romantic orientation? 2. has your muse been mainly attracted to masculinity, femininity, androgyny, or an even split (between two, many, or all of the options specified)? 3. has your muse been mainly attracted to men, women, non-binary people, another identity not specified, or an even split (between two, many, or all of the options specified)? 4. does your muse find any specific features particularly attractive? 5. what is your muse's ideal first date? 6. would your muse kiss on the first date? 7. where is your muse most sensitive? 8. is your muse a good kisser? are they experienced or inexperienced? 9. is your muse monogamous or polyamorous? would they be interested in a polyamorous relationship? 10. has your muse ever been cheated on? would they ever cheat on their partner(s)? 11. how comfortable is your muse with their appearance and their body? 12. does your muse get flustered easily? how would they typically react to compliments from someone they are interested in/dating? 13. what traits does your muse value in a romantic partner? 14. what traits does your muse want to avoid when it comes to choosing a romantic partner? 15. how does your muse feel about valentine's day? 16. what is/are your muse's love language(s)? 17. what are some of the signs that your muse shows their care/love without saying they love/care about their partner? 18. how does your muse feel about marriage? would they ever want to get married? 19. how many serious relationships has your muse been in? are they experienced or inexperienced when it comes to dating? 20. how does your muse feel about public displays of affection? would they engage in them? 21. is your muse more flirtatious or shy, or does it depend on the context? 22. does your muse tend to take on a more dominant or submissive role in the relationship, or does it vary based on circumstance? 23. would your muse be good at recognizing their partner's needs right away, or would it take some time? 24. is your muse proactive in communication with their partner(s), or is this something they need to work on? 25. does love and romance mean a lot to your muse? do they seek it constantly or let it come when it does? 26. is your muse more likely to be loud and proud about being in a relationship, or are they more quiet about it at first and open up about it over time? 27. is your muse more confident or shy when it comes to approaching someone they like? 28. would it bother your muse if they had differing interests from their partner(s), or would they delight in it? 29. how important is having (a) physically attractive partner(s) to your muse? 30. would your muse ever be in an open/non-exclusive relationship? would it make them insecure, or would they be open to trying it? 31. does your muse develop crushes easily? would they be open about it to a friend or keep it to themselves? 32. does your muse have an ideal "type"?

[deonsx]

Hellooo! I was wondering if u could make a fic or headcanon (its up to u tho!) about seishirou fake dating? I think the reason would be bcs the girls in his school would stop chasin after him or smthing like that? And ofc eventually they like each other. I hope ur doing well! take ur time and have a great day!

Heyaa!! The request box is pretty full these days, I'm moving as fast as I can, have a nice read!!

Fake Dating With Nagi Seishiro

Seishiro is fed up with the constant attention he gets from the girls at school. No matter how politely he turns them down they just won’t stop chasing after him. It is tiring and it is starting to interfere with his focus. Finally he comes up with a plan. He needs a fake girlfriend. Someone who can convincingly pull it off and won’t actually fall for him

That is where you come in. Maybe you are a friend or maybe you are just someone who seems reliable and disinterested in him romantically. One day after class Seishiro corners you with his usual calm and collected demeanor intact “I need your help” he says crossing his arms and leaning casually against the wall “Pretend to be my girlfriend. Just for a while. It will get them off my back”

You blink at him surprised “Why me??” you ask skeptical “Because you are the only one who won’t make this weird” he replies with a faint smirk “And you are also the only one who doesn’t seem interested in all the attention I get” After some hesitation you agree “How hard could it be” you think. A little hand holding here a few staged moments there and it will all be over soon enough

But as the plan unfolds things don’t go quite as planned. Seishiro who is always calm and cool starts to act differently. At first you think it is just part of the act. Like the way he suddenly gets protective when someone teases you or how his smiles feel more genuine when it is just the two of you. But then you realize it is not just an act anymore

And maybe you are not just pretending either

At first, Seishiro would approach the fake relationship like a task. He remains composed and distant, treating the whole situation as a formal arrangement. Holding your hand or placing an arm around your shoulder would feel mechanical, done only when necessary to convince others

However, he takes the role seriously. If someone questions the authenticity of the relationship, Seishiro defends it without hesitation. He might casually say “She’s my girlfriend. Isn’t it obvious?” His confidence leaves no room for doubt, making the act even more convincing

As time passes, Seishiro’s demeanor starts to shift. Initially, every small gesture like walking you to class or standing closer than usual feels calculated. But soon it starts to feel natural. The way he looks at you, lingers a bit too long. The way he laughs at your jokes feels a little too genuine for an act

You on the other hand, are nervous in the beginning. Agreeing to the fake dating arrangement seems simple at first, but being the center of attention feels strange. When someone asks “When did you two start dating?” you might panic stumbling over an answer

Over time though you start questioning your feelings. Is this really just fake? Or have you started to care about Seishiro more than you’re willing to admit?

Together, your interactions change. What began as staged hand-holding turns into moments that feel genuine. A hug in public doesn’t stop as soon as people stop looking. A playful argument about what to eat ends with him smiling in a way that feels far too intimate for a fake boyfriend

Then there’s the jealousy. Even though the relationship is fake, you both start to notice how uncomfortable it feels when someone flirts with the other. It’s subtle at first Seishiro’s narrowed eyes when someone gets too close to you, or the way you feel your chest tighten when another girl compliments him

Eventually, these small moments lead to something bigger. Maybe one night, after a particularly convincing moment in public, you find yourselves alone. Seishiro looks at you, a rare vulnerability in his gaze, and asks “If this is supposed to be fake, why does it feel so real?”

Enjoy!

[tazcrosblade]

I don't really know how to post this without sounding like a boot licker for the artificial intelligence, but here's my take on it. AI isn't going to really do anything for you that you couldn't do yourself. It doesn't have any access to information on the internet, in books, or in self-help books, that you couldn't also get access to. So in a way

number one: the AI provides a way to search and consolidate information that has become increasingly hard to do (try googling anything these days and all you get is AI generated results anyways).

Number 2: the ai, the internet, even Tumblr are just tools that you could use to find answers. Obviously if you're in a Mental Health situation, using AI rather than seeking professional help can be dangerous. Treating it like the be all end all of answers, especially for things like health or mental health, is so naive as to border on st*pid.

Number 3: you only get out of the AI what you put in, if you ask it for help it's just going to give you generic answers. But if you know how to use the AI as a tool, it can be useful.

Basically what I'm saying is telling the ai you are my therapist solve all my problems will only get you so far. But if you've ever tried, for example, taking all of the texts from a fight you're having with someone and plugging them into the AI and asking it to continue the conversation and give you different ways things could have been phrased or to summarize the issues into bullet points so you can more specifically focus on what's going on. Couples therapy in effect. I have found the AI to be extremely helpful as a neutral third party during conflict, almost like a mediator or a counselor. Sometimes phrasing your thoughts or breaking down what a person's telling you can be extremely difficult. The AIS we use are not general artificial intelligence they are large language models, the only thing they can do is talk and analyze text. Don't expect the AI to work like a therapist would work. Use it as a tool for, analyzing journal entries, breaking down a big long message someone has sent you into more manageable bites so you don't get overwhelmed by your personal emotional attachment to what's being said.

When my partner and I are having conflict I will often complain to the ai, and tell it to be brutally honest with me. It sometimes tells me the things that my partner is too shy to tell me, or I'm too self-centered to think for myself. And because it's coming from a computer, it's easier to take it for what it is which is just a single take on the situation.

Will the AI cure your depression? No.

Will the AI give you the same tips everyone gives you? Yes, literally that's what it's designed for

If you know how to use the AI to analyze a situation or generate a bunch of ideas, if you use the AI and prompt it to tell you the hard truth or to be critical of someone's actions or to give an explanation for why somebody might have done something, it can be a good tool to help guide some of your thoughts and mental exploration of a situation.

AI is not a therapist. It is not trained. Any information it gives is suspect.

But that doesn't mean as a data analysis tool, a stand-in for the person you're having an argument for, or a straw man to help run potential arguments past (while telling it to be rude short or selfish in its responses) can be a good therapy style tool for people who may not be able to afford professional help, but feel as though they need assistance in unpacking their own thoughts or phrasing things in a certain way or understanding something somebody is telling them.

guys. please

[spinchip]

Just Don't Call Me Late For Dinner

transgirl Zane and picking out a new name.

“So,” Cole asks with an air of curated nonchalance, like asking the question he’s about to ask might be uncouth, “Do I still… call you Zane, or have you um, picked out a new name?”

She glances over at him, pausing the mental calculation she and Pixal had been working on to pin him with a soft smile. The question was meant in good faith, an effort to be supportive, but they were currently held prisoner in the dungeon of a madman, “Zane is fine. I have not had much time to think about my name, and considering our current situation I do not think it’s wise to split my attention.”

Cole chuckles a little at that which is good, she was trying to add a bit of levity to her words with the inflection of her voice, “That’s fair. Just let me know if anything changes, yeah?”

“Of course.” She goes back to work, the conversation sitting in the back of her mind for her to examine later.

I would be happy to take a break and consider the matter of your name, Pixal informs her in that familiar matter-of-fact way, It could prove a good mental reset, though i imagine that term does not accurately ascribe itself to AI.

Thank you, but really, I am okay. I would prefer not to pick out a new name while in captivity. She thinks back at her, a dungeon is not quite conducive to the process. I would prefer something so important not be sullied by this experience.

Understood. Pixal says simply, and they move on from the topic.

Later, after everything is over and done and mostly-processed, Cole glances up at her as she enters the living room with a curious smile, “how was the mall?” He asks her.

“Looks like you got a lot of stuff.” Lloyd comments from his spot on the carpet in front of the TV. He’s laying flat on his back and reading a comic book above his head casually.

“It was a total success!” Kai answers for her.

She supposes that is alright, considering he did most of the heavy lifting when it came to her new fashion choices. He had an eye for clothing- it was the main reason she’d brought him along. Before she’d rebuilt herself, everything she owned was bulky and big and picked out for how it hid her silhouette. With her new body, she found her old wardrobe… lacking character. Boring. But having been so ignorant to the fashion world, she’d enlisted the resident stylist for his help. Thank the first master for all those magazines he got every month. She’d done her homework before they went out and knew somewhat what was in style and what she liked (they didn’t always overlap) and Kai had helped her build outfits and pick out several cornerstone pieces in her new wardrobe.

“I am happy with our trip.” She says with a smile, setting down several bags. Kai took the liberty of showing off a few of her new things. Dresses, skirts, jeans and tops, sweaters and shoes. It had been a long day, but she felt exhilarated by the experience instead of exhausted and sad like she always had when shopping in the mens section.

“Speaking of new things, given any thought to your name?” Cole asks again, the question much more casual than the first time he’d asked.

She wasn’t completely unobservant to social cues, and she’d certainly noticed and appreciated that they were all somewhat avoiding the name Zane for her since she’d informed them of her new identity. Her life as of recently was full of a myriad of nicknames.

“I am… still thinking about it.” She admits a bit bashfully, “I’m not sure where to begin.”

“It’s a big decision. Do you need any help?” Jay says without looking away from the video game he was currently horribly losing at.

She takes a moment to ponder that before she sits down on the couch next to Cole, “I would be open to suggestions.” She says agreeably, “Are there any names you think would fit me?”

Cole humms and flips his sketch pad to a new page, scribbling Possible Names? On the top, “Well, that depends. What are you wanting? Something that starts with the same initial?” he thinks for a moment before he starts writing things down as he says them aloud, “Zinnia? Zoey? Zuri?”

“Zinnia sounds too similar to Nya,” She says with a shake of her head before shooting the girl a smile, “I mean no offense.”

“None taken,” Nya says with a shrug, “I get it. What about something more technology based? Perl? Ada? Siri? Maybe Julia or Ruby?”

Jay curses as his character dies on screen before throwing his two cents in, “Tera or Zetta, like the bytes?” He starts the level over again, “We could get weird with it. Circuit? Mimo? Variable?”

“Variable!?” Kai repeats, looking at Jay like he’s grown a second head.

“Var is a beautiful name for a girl!” Jay insists instantly, defensively huddling over the controller in his hands.

“I’m not sure about that one Frosty.” Kai says frankly before his eyes light up, “Hey, what about names having to do with ice? I’ll look some up.” He says excitedly, pulling out his phone.

While he’s doing that, she leans over to see what Cole has written down so far and to also stage whisper to him, “You do not have to write down Variable.”

“It’s not that outrageous!” Jay pouts.

“Okay, what about Winter? Neve? Noelle?” He clicks over to another article, “This one says Frostine but that feels a little heavy handed to me. Ooh, I like Ivy and Holly if you want something more nature-y. Aurora is nice too.” He narrates as he scrolls through different lists.

“Neve feels like something my Father would have picked in another life,” She says wistfully, “But I am not certain it feels quite right for me in this one.”

“How about Lena?” Lloyd offers up, peeking over his comic.

“Isn’t that Fritz Donnegans love interest in starfarer?” Nya asks suspiciously.

“Actually she’s his twin sister.” Jay corrects, “Well they made her his sister in the third movie, before that it wasn’t canon.”

“I thought the third movie was about Fritz Donnegans dad turning evil.”

“No, those are the prequels. That’s the sixth movie they made.” Lloyd says as he flips his comic book back open.

Nya rolls her eyes, “If it’s a prequel then chronologically that is the third movie.”

“We’re getting off topic.” Cole interrupts before the conversation can devolve any further. He holds out his sketchpad for her to examine, “Do any of these speak to you?”

Zinnia Zoey Zuri Perl Ada Siri Julia Ruby Terra Zetta Circuit Mimo V Winter Neve Noelle Frostine? Ivy Holly Aurora Lena

“I like Perl?” She offers.

“That didn’t sound very confident.” Kai points out with a raised brow.

“Okay, so that’s the closest. What do you like about it?”

She rolls the name around her head for a long moment, trying to figure out why it stood out to her, “It is one syllable, like Zane. It does not end in an ‘a’ sound.”

“Short and to the point. I can work with that.” Nya tilts her head to think, “Sage. Elle? Skye?”

“Skylor” She reminds Nya with a shake of her head.

“Jade?” Jay suggests, “Oh, too similar to Jay.”

“And Harumi. Jade princess?” Lloyd points out with a cringe.

“Oh, right.”

“Wynn? Oh, hey, Wren? You like birds.” Cole scribbles down the new names while she mulls over his options.

“Wren is closer.” She says slowly, “A high contender for sure.”

“Birds!” Kai says excitedly, “What are more one syllable birds?”

Lloyd closes his comic book again so he can think better, “Lark?”

Nya taps her fingers against her chin, “How about Dove?”

“Raven?”

“That’s two syllables Jay.” Kai groans.

Jay throws his hands up in defeat, “I’m not good at this!”

“Dove.” She repeats suddenly into the room, the name tasting sweet and comfortable on her tongue, “I think my name is Dove.”

“Nya you got it!” Kai whoops before he deflates, “Aw, I'm jealous she picked your suggestion.”

Nya sits back with a smile, preening at her choice.

Cole’s smiling ear to ear as he straightens up on the couch, “Alright, let’s try it out! A little role-play.” He turns his body to face her and pretends to hold a cup in one hand and a marker in the other, “Alright, Ma’am, i’ve got a Venti Oat milk latte with toffee nut and pumpkin.” He spins off the top of his head.

“I would not order that.” She interrupts, “I do not like toffee.”

“Can I get a name for your order?” Cole railroads on, giving her a meaningful look.

She doesn’t roll her eyes at his shenanigans because this whole thing has been incredibly sweet, “My name is Dove.” She tells him, the words fitting perfectly in her mouth. There’s a joy bubbling up her chest making her giggle as he pretends to scribble her name down on an invisible cup.

“It’s spelled D-O-V-E.” Jay explains slowly as Cole writes.

“Just in case you weren’t sure.” Lloyds plays into the bit.

“Shut up.” Cole rolls his eyes, but there’s no real heat to it before he offers her a genuine smile, “That’s a great name.”

“It suits you.” Kai adds and Nya nods along.

“Thank you.” Dove says, unable to hide her bright smile.

[wandixx]

Christmas in Mount Justice

cartoon version of Young Justice, written instead of sleeping and I'll be honest, I kinda run out of steam at the end, but it'd take me until next year if I didn't push through, so here it is, and hopefully it's not quite visible where I started pushing through it, I hope you'll enjoy

words: 4633

“Since, hopefully, this is the last time we're seeing each other before Christmas–” Black Canary announced, stretching after finished training“ I wish you all merry and healthy and boring Christmas” she finished with a wide warm smile. Danny barely stopped himself from rolling his eyes. This goddamn worst time of the year. He checked once more if his mental shields were up. According to M'gann, ghosts were really loud on mind reading wavelengths so he needed to keep them up most of the time. He wasn't an asshole to drown his friend in absolute hatred of Christmas.

“You too Black Canary!” Wally yelled, running like the earth was burning to get cookies M'gann baked “By the way, what are your plans?” he asked upon his return.

Did they really have to keep talking about it? Danny was half considering just dropping through the floor to escape this conversation but chose against it because he really didn't want to answer all the questions it would cause or hear a ‘you can't deal with all unwanted conversations by escaping them’ lecture again any time soon. He could and he would, the Freakshow incident was just one way to prove it.

“B and I have to attend some stuffy rich people party” Robin said with clear displeasure “I still need to plan what mess to stir there. Chandeliers swinging are banned and so is arson so I have to get creative.”

“You actually set something on fire?! That's sick as hell!” the speedster's enthusiasm didn't waver as he threw a few cookies at Danny. It was nice that someone remembered about Danny's slightly enhanced metabolism. They (both Young Justice and Amity squad) still didn't understand it completely but the working hypothesis was that he needed to eat more to make up for ectoplasm he couldn't consume in quantities big enough for his ghost side since it was poisonous to humans and he had to dose it carefully. Being a halfa was rough like that some(most)times. 

“Well, lighter is easy to sneak inside–” Robin explained and honestly Danny never expected to hear Gotham’s feared vigilante go over logistics of arson but he guessed it was his life now, he could use this info to do something about at least one Christmas tree in Amity or share it with Sam. She mentioned some upcoming rich people party too”–and amount of alcohol there is astonishing, really you'd think that people would try to stay sober on event like that but apparently–”

“I'm having dinner with my mom and some family friends–” Artemis interrupted “Can't wait spend God knows how many hours with all of them talking over each other and asking awkward questions” she tried to sound displeased but there was no way she could hide her fondness and wasn't that a wild thing to see. Seriously, he almost choked on a cookie. In theory Danny knew some people genuinely liked Christmes but–

Just like that? Just happy to–

Yeah, he knew but couldn't quite comprehend. Sam was exactly like that, found but trying to seem annoyed to keep up with her goth persona. Tucker was way more open about his delight.

For Danny Christmas was only too loud because everyone was singing badly and too bright because of lights and too stuffy and there was this damned argument about Santa and yelling and fe–

“Oh, me too! We also planned a movie night with Central Rogues, this time it's Cold’s turn. I wish he won't pick Die Hard again…”

Well, Danny guessed movie night with Rogues, that clearly meant an off evening since they wouldn't try to stir things up while watching the movie, sounded like a really nice idea. Personally he would do without people who try to turn him into a pulp every other day but apparently things worked differently in Central.

“King Orin wanted to introduce me to some surface celebrations as well,” Kaldur said with a warm smile and halfa forcefully stopped himself from giving their leader a weird look. Even him?! Betrayal, absolute betrayal! 

“Well, I don't really celebrate so I'm staying here, maybe training a bit, I'm not sure yet,” M'gann announced shyly and it took all his willpower to not hug her for being the only sensible person in the room.

“Yeah, I'm staying too. Apparently I'm not invited to family gatherings” Conner added bitterly. 

“Honestly your not missing much,” Danny muttered “It's just perfectly prepared and measured argument breeding space, believe me”

Wally tried to protest but one pointed glare and it dissolved through power of ‘don't make Conner feel about it any worse than he already does’. Danny felt a little guilty for using it to sooth his own hatred towards Christmas but not too much. He really wanted to reassure his friend and ways he went about it were no one else's business. 

“And what are your plans, Danny?” M'gann asked gently after he didn't continue. He really wished he didn't have to answer but keeping his emotions hidden meant nobody could see that something was up and say ‘you don't have to tell if you don't want to’ or other shit like that.

“Not sure yet. I think I will crash with you here honestly. If we believe this magic book we found, there is a Christmas truce in Zone, so there shouldn't be any ghost attacks and your company is always great,” he smiled sincerely.

“Wouldn't your parents ask questions if you just skipped Christmas, though?” Wally asked a bit cautiously but Danny waved his concern off with a vague ‘eh’ sound.

“Will you show us some Christmas traditions then? As a part of ‘earthly traditions’ course?” M'gann's eyes almost shone with excitement and Conner looked hopeful and it made him feel conflicted. The whole point of crashing in Mount Justice with two aliens was to not touch anything Christmas related with thirty feet long stick but alas M'gann asked nicely and was pretty. These were two big ideals fighting inside of him then and there while he tried to keep his face and outer mind blank enough to not bring any suspicion.

Betrayal to second, no third, power! He wanted to escape this hell of an experience! 

But well, he could shape the experience in a way that's the least painful and M'gann and Conner were really great friends…

“Sure”

He couldn't quite match her enthusiastic grin or even Conner’s bit smaller one.

He was going to regret it, wouldn't he?

***

“Guys, I messed up so bad…” Danny whined,  curling on Sam's enormous bed covered in fluffy blankets and nice pillows.

“What did you do this time?” girl asked with a smirk. Halfa was sometimes mad how well his friends knew him and didn't take his dramatics as seriously as he would like to.

“I wanted to have a sleepover at Team's HQ during Christmas, you know, to escape it. Only ones who will stay are Miss Martian and Superboy, aliens, so I thought it's a good idea. And then they asked me to show them ‘earthly Christmas traditions’ and I AGREED!” he yelled, his hands flying dramatically at the confession.

His friends, little traitors they were, just laughed.

He came to get some help, advice on either doing this introduction well because Danny Fenton was known for a lot of things but half-assing projects he agreed to do wasn't one of them (homework was obligatory without his consents ergo didn't count) or gracefully getting away from mess his idiocy brought onto him, not to be laughed at! He had enough of it at other times.

Though they got to work when they calmed down, making Danny revisit the idea of not talking to them ever again and throwing it out of the window.

“Alright,” Tucker started, preparing his note and planner apps before continuing “what do you want to show them? Gingerbread house?”

“Of course” Danny huffed because as much as he hated Christmas and its traditions, gingerbread house was decent one. Making one at Tucker's place three years ago when he had been introduced to the idea was one of his best memories related to the holiday. Even though it was cut short by trip to the ER because dumbass little Danny had wanted a little gingerbread man he set aside and he had eaten him still all fresh and 350°F hot and got severe burns in his mouth and throat because apparently his instinctual response to burning in his mouth was to swallow instead of to spit.

“Gifts.” Sam raised in a way that meant she was not taking any complaints and Danny didn't really want to argue. His track record with gifts from his parents wasn't too good ever since he had a brief just-like-dad phase and they didn't realize it ended after a month but other people knew how to fix it. The Voyager Lego set he got from Sam the year before still made him smile when his eyes landed on it. 

Tucker noted it down. “What else? Christmas tree?”

Danny winced but nodded. He wasn't too fond of it but it was too big to miss it.

“Ugly sweaters?”

“Superboy would actually develop laser vision if I tried it”

“Movie marathon? I can lend you some DvDs”

“Yeah, it's probably a good idea. Kid Flash mentioned it too.”

“Santa Claus?” Sam asked with a smirk and Danny threw a pillow at her.

“Who is Santa Claus? I never heard of him, must be a Rhode Island thing” he answered with a straight face, not knowing how many times he will have to repeat it.

**

Phantom: hey guys!

Phantom: want a Crisscross Christmas

Phantom: ?

Artemis: The what?

Phantom: oh, you know

Phantom: this thing were we draw aech othres names anf have to buy a gift

Kid Flash: you mena Secret Santa

Kid Flash: ???

Phantom: never heard of that

Phantom: thats a wierd naem

Phantom: but if rules match, call it whatever yoyu wnat

Aqualad: I like this idea

Robin: GIft drop-off on 27th is okay for everyone?

7 people liked this message

Robin: i take that for yes. 50$ budget?

Kid Flash: Robin, Rob, Bob, my best pal. I have 5$ and single slice of bubblegum to my name rn

Kid Flash: No, actually no bubblegum anymore

Kid Flash: 10$ is top I could spend

Phantom: Same

Artemis: Same

Aqualad: Me too

Miss Martian: I'm not sure if me and Superboy have any money, actually

Phantom: See Rob?

Phantom: just be a good samamritanina and give them 10$ instead og flaunting batmans money

***

"Important question. How do one pick a present?"

"You know, it's good if it's something personal, either in a way that it's something they want or need, a gag gift that'd be funny for both of you, or just something that made you think of them"

"Yeah, yeah, I read the mom blogs, none of this actually helps, what am I supposed to get for Artemis?!"

***

"Alright, so. I have a list of things I think you need to learn about Christmas. We're kinda late to the party, so I cut off some stuff because there is no way we would make it in time."

"Sounds about right, what do we start with?"

"Most classic of classics, the Christmas tree, Batman already greenlit it, so it's waiting outside"

***

"So, Christmas tree is evergreen plant, conifer, sometimes only branch or synthetically made model, that, if living, is cut down from Christmas tree nursery, and then put inside the house, usually in the living room or other space that is considered repre-"

"Danny, we live in society, we have basic knowledge on American traditions that is literally everywhere. We don't need it to be spoon fed to us in a voice more robotic way than Red Tornado, literal robot"

"Conner!"

"What?! I'm not wrong"

"Sorry. Let's get to decorating then?"

"If you want to ramble, we'd be more than happy to listen. It's obvious that you took a lot of care to learn everything."

"Speak for yourself"

"Conner!"

"Yeah, yeah. Anyway, with what exactly do we plan to decorate it?"

"Oh, this one is easy. I asked around people to donate some stuff, and Batman got us few things after I asked for permission for the tree. He even asked Justice League to drop us some things too."

"That's nice of them"

"Yeah, though I'm a bit worried about gifts from Arrows and Robin, y'know. They all had this type of smile that means either a gag idea, merch or exploding glitter and I'm not sure which option scares me the most"

"Glitter"

"Glitter"

"Yeah, you're right"

***

"Did… um… did Superman bring anything?"

"Yes, actually! He brought pretty big box of stuff and mentioned dropping of some food for Christmas in the morning or the afternoon of the first day. He said he was happy that you got the experience even if he isn't able to be the one to give it to you. I think he is coming around"

It was an interesting thing about Danny. He wasn't all that good with authority figures or frankly adults in general, and he never passed on the chance to tear in Superman for his treatment of Conner, if he saw the man, but in private he was surprisingly pro-Superman and tried to make them "see his perspective" with some pretty convincing arguments. Everyone else was still unimpressed but Danny never gave up.

M'gann still wasn't sure if in these circumstances she found it cute or annoying.

"Bullshit"

"If that's what you want to believe in"

***

"Oh, hello Megan! Red Tornado, would you like to join us in decorating the Christmas tree?"

"This… seems like a decent idea. What is the procedure of it?"

"We already put on the lights, so now we're placing baubles and other hanging decorations, before we finish off with paper chains and these fuzzy boas. We need them evenly spread out on all of the tree, preferably in a way, that things in similar colors aren't right next to each other, alright?"

"Yes, Phantom, instructions are clear"

"Great. Do we want some music in the background? My friends usually play some Christmas songs to get us all in 'the right mood' as he calls it?"

"Good idea, I'll play something."

"Thanks Meg"

"Just hear the sleigh bell jingling…"

"Is this… yeah, it's Carpenters, it's Jazz's favo- oh shit"

"Got it!"

"Nice catch Conner! Red Tornado, sorry I didn't clarify before, we're not decorating the side by the wall."

"Understood"

***

"We have only one last thing left then"

"Yeah?"

"The star at the top. The youngest child of the family usually get the honor. Conner, it's you time to shine~"

"Shut up already"

"How is he supposed to reach the top though? He can't fly"

"Step stool or someone has to hold him up lion king style"

"Lion king- Don't you dare! Keep those hands to yourself! Danny!

***

"So, what's next on your magical list?"

"Gingerbread house. It's a moment for you to shine Meg, because I'm absolute mess in the kitchen and I don't think Conner is much better"

"Actually-"

"blah, blah, blah, absolutely perfect, could be hired at Michelin star restaurant right this instant blah, blah, blah"

"Oh, you little-"

"I believe the arguments are supposed to start at the Christmas table and not before. It seemed to be consensus in my sources. Was I mistaken?"

Conner stopped dead in his tracks, as confused as M'gann at the question.

Danny laughed so hard he fell on the ground.

"Red Tornado, what does that mean?"

"There is no need to spread misinformation until we can get confirmation whether my sources were correct or not"

"Danny? Danny?! What does he mean?! Why are you laughing?!"

Danny just stayed curled on the floor, almost wheezing.

***

"So, we have all of the ingredients, right? Flour, cinnamon, nutmeg, cloves-"

"I think it's still in the cabinet, let me grab it real quick"

"Alright, other than cloves, do we have salt, vegetable shortening, granulated sugar, molasses, an egg- I mean, applesauce? Yeah? Let's hope it'll work. Okay, I think were ready"

"Ginger?"

"What?"

"Do we have ginger ready?"

"I don't think so, I'm pretty sure we've run out about a week ago? Why- oh wait"

"Did we seriously forgot to get ginger to make The Gingerbread House?! It's literally in the name!"

They all just stood in silence for a long moment.

"We're idiots"

"Well said, well said"

"I believe there are better names to describe you in this situation. Unfortunately, I cannot recall them"

"Thanks Red Tornado, that was helpful"

"Maybe we can still buy it?"

"It's 10:34 PM, December 23rd, M'gann, what shop would even be open?"

"Shut up Conner, it's actually not a bad idea. I think I've seen- yes, there is something open until eleven, about five minutes out if I fly"

***

"There was no ginger at the shop, but I got cranberry for later, if needed, and some chips to snack on"

"It's fine, we found unopened pack of powdered ginger in the back of the cabinet"

"That's great! Give me a minute to return this packet I liberated on my way home?"

"Danny!"

***

"Hey, M'gann!"

"Yeah?"

"Would you like to invite your uncle to our dinner?"

"That's a great idea Conner, thank you!"

***

"Okay, wait, wait, wait, before you two get weirdly aggressive about it again-"

"We're not that aggressive and it's a serious matter"

"I don't have any ghosts to get of my misplaced aggression out on so I'm funneling it into cake decorating instead"

"M'gann, you literally are trying to choke him right now, Danny, even I know it's concerning and I have less than half a year of learning what is considered normal under my belt. Anyway, before you escalate it again, how about each one of us gets one side of the house and then we work in pairs on the roof?"

"I like that"

"But what about aesthetic integrity!"

"It's quite literally against the point of gingerbread house"

***

"Before we go to sleep, I believe it's a widespread tradition to leave milk and cookies for the Santa Claus on the Christmas Eve evening"

"Huh"

"What is it this time?"

"Nothing really, chill out Conner, I just never heard of that"

It was so clearly a lie it probably couldn't even be called that, but at this point everyone realized, that for some reason bearded man in red was a sore subject, and they stopped trying to learn why. Maybe some day he'd tell them.

***

"Sorry. This person is currently unavailable. Please leave a message after the tone."

"Hey Dani, it's Danny. Merry Christmas, please let me know when you get that. I'm celebrating outside of home, safe, with some friends, so if you want, I can give you an address and you can drop by. They're all more than okay with ghost stuff and have a history of accepting someone similar to you without any questions. I'm sure they'd love you. Let me know you're alright and if you want to join us. Sorry I keep calling, I'm at the worrywart stage. Love you, please stay safe."

Danny was doing pretty well with this whole "organizing Christmas". Really. M'gann did kick him out to breathe a bit of fresh air (and wait for the Superman and food he was supposed to bring in) because his hands were shaking too much, but other than that he was fine. Really. He was getting a bit panicky because he didn't hear a word from his sister in the past week and usually she let them know if she knew she would go somewhere where that could happen but she just as often didn't because she spontaneously decided to do something else. Trackers they made her wear showed she was fine.

It didn't really help, he wasn't sure if there was anything less than actually hearing or preferably seeing her that could reassure him.

It wasn't even talking about all of the trouble that was a bit closer to home, because Christmas never meant anything good for him, with or without his parents stirring up the Santa-fight. They weren't there and yet, he still couldn't make himself believe it could be any better this time. For Ancients sake, he made sure there was no Santa Claus in whole Mountain, nothing to remind him of how it always was and his brain still decided to be stupid about it.

So now he was standing in thin hoodie out in Rhode Island winter, in hopes that cold would shock him out of spiraling, trying to keep his breaths even and not fly away because it felt all like a little too much at the moment. he was standing in thin hoodie out in Rhode Island winter, waiting for a man who would awkwardly try to do the whole 'I'm an adult you can trust' routine and then treat him like messenger pigeon to contact the child that actually wanted and needed him. He couldn't entirely blame him but-

"Are you quite alright?"

"I'm fine"

"Are you sure? It's quite cold to be dressed like this and your heartbeat is quite erratic."

"I'm fine as old wine Superman, please say your piece before someone comes to see what took me so long"

"Danny-"

"I'm serious. Leave it alone and just give me the food"

Superman looked a bit conflicted, clearly considering all of the potential pros and cons of digging in further and choose wrong.

"You're worried about Dani"

"You're the last person I want to talk to about her," Danny spat out, anxiety quickly turning into anger.

"Of course, but-"

"Have two civil conversations with your clone before trying to tell me how I should handle mine" As soon as these words left his mouth, Danny regretted them, if only a little, but he kept pushing "I told you about her to explain why I'm willing to vouch for you. It doesn't make you someone I'll confide in. It doesn't make you someone I trust. It doesn't make me approve of the way your handling it. It just means I understand. But you're an adult man and experienced hero with stable job and adult shit figured out and I'm a teenager with home just safe enough for me to stay and family that'd question how third child just showed up. We are not the same."

Superman flinched away at some point during the rant, looking properly humbled. He avoided eye contact and just reached forward to pass him hard plastic case filled with food containers and smaller boxes wrapped up in nice Christmas themed paper.

"Alright kiddo. Get it inside before you turn into a icicle. And tell Conner I wish him Merry Christmas, alright? I mean, I wish it to everyone but…"

Damn, if the "never meet your heroes" person wasn't right.

"You're a coward Superman. Come in and tell him that yourself"

***

Conner lashed out, as expected, but it was far more subdued than it would be just few month before. To his credit, Superman stayed the whole time it went down and only left when boy mostly calmed down and wouldn't feel like he was being ignored. Man even tried to respond to some allegations, though he wasn't really heard. Conner ranted some more after hero left, but overall it went better than Danny thought it would.

Then they had dinner, which went… surprisingly well. Apparently, not having to worry about being attacked by the main dish did wonders to Danny's overall jitters (and didn't everyone get super weird when he mentioned it). Not having people start nonsensical fights also helped. He knew better than to mention that.

Also, turns out that Superman or whoever he got to make them food was freaking amazing cook, thank you very much. Danny wasn't necessarily fasting, not in a way he knew some people did in the period preceding Christmas or at least on Christmas Eve, but the tension of past few days made it hard to eat a lot. It definitely lessened now that the thing was happening and seemingly going well, so he was absolutely ravenous. To be completely honest, as far as he could tell, everyone else matched his enthusiasm.

There was a bit off moment at the beginning, when Martian Manhunter asked him if he shouldn't be with his family during holidays, but Danny quickly and subtly brushed it off and nobody mentioned that afterwards.

He may have overeaten, actually, for once in his live, which he may regret in the morning, but at the moment, it made him quite content.

Then came the gifts, which also went better than he expected. For once there was no need to act like he enjoyed the gift despite already planning on how to get rid of it. Even better, focus was almost fully removed from him, obviously, because it wasn't his first rodeo.

Conner looked so lost and confused with the gift he got from Superman's mom, it was almost heartbreaking. It was beautiful crocheted scarf, black and red, with his symbol on each end, and an apology note explaining that Mrs Martha Kent would give him something more note worthy but she learned about him way to late to make something better. There was also promise of more worthy gift in near future. Danny knew all that because Conner read it out loud, asking everyone to help him make sense of that. There was only so much they could do.

Other than that, he got some nice flannel shirts from M'gann, quite a few sweets. He also got a book from Danny (it was a sin he didn't read "The Martian" before) and concepts of new hero suits for him, that Sam somehow sneaked between the pages. It was certainly a lot to explain without making anyone angry.

M'gann got two different cook books, that unfortunately didn't include Fenton fudge recipe (Dad was really protective over it), some surprisingly obscure merch from "Hello Megan" and more sweets.

Red Tornado got an apron and few tokens of appreciation, that robot quite liked, as far as Danny could tell.

Martian Manhuter, due to how rarely he visited, was the hardest to pick presents for, which resulted in some general little trinkets.

Danny got night sky projector, which was really cool, and potted plant, for some reason, which, while also cool, because plants are cool (Sam would rekill him if he thought otherwise), he knew far too well, would not survive until July. It wasn't only because he could barely take care of himself, let alone whole ass plant (see also, that one time he either drowned or dried three cacti), but also because of the times ghosts (or home security) attacked him in his room. He was thankful anyway. Maybe it could push him into finally getting some contingencies against that, that’d actually work. After all, it was quite a pretty plant.

By the time they moved to the couch to watch “Die Hard” of all things (it was only DVD that Tucker provided that didn’t have Santa Claus as a prominent character, because of course that little traitor would do that), Danny had to admit that this Christmas was… nice. Enjoyable. Pretty amazing actually. Good enough that he could understand people waiting for it the whole year. He couldn’t tell that he joined their ranks, but he certainly could understand them.

It was also downright exhausting and at some point even dynamic fights of John McClane couldn’t keep his eyes open. It was fine though. He was safe, he was warm, almost squeezed against his friends. It was good place to just relax.

It’s been first time in a long time since he felt that on Christmas.

********

I'm not sure if I managed to properly Conner's... whole thing, if he turned out too hostile, let's just say he was still pissed about the whole "wasn't invited to Clark's family gathering" thing and it made him a bit more antsy.

I'm not sure how well I managed to handle it, but I don't want to bash neither Clark nor Conner. They're both victims in this situation and while the way Clark handled it was far from ideal, it's also far from worst he could do and I believe he deserves a bit more grace. In the end, on psychological level he is just human and humans don't always handle being baby trapped perfectly. Maybe I have more understanding towards him because my prefered way of handling conflicts is walking out and locking myself in my room, but idk. Maybe I'm capable of more coherent explanation when it's not 3:44 AM

Ginger shenanigans were inspired by my own Christmas preparation adventures, when I was making bread dough for the Christmas Eve and decided to add rosemary to make it more ✨festive✨ and got really attached to the idea. My mom agreed, then it turned out we didn't have any, then I went to the shop like twenty minutes before it closed at 11PM so at least one guy was there to replenish his alcohol suplies. My mom called to tell me to also buy some powdered garlic and beetroot. Turned out we had rosemary at home. At shop I only found garlic. I also brought energy drink, because I was tired but had more stuff to do and some snacks just because.

Bread turned out pretty good.

I sincerely believe if I was solely responsible of making gingerbread, I would forget to get ginger (or like, to fit with "it's in the name" thing, pepper, because in Polish it's "piernik")

I'm really sorry if the drop in quality by the end is noticable, if this thing stayed unfinished whole another year i'd do something I'd regret later.

[radioactiverats]

Mentor Starscream x seeker!reader (2/?)

Continuing to mash up all the timelines. In my mind, this version of Starscream and Megatron are like in the immediate aftermath of TF One, where Starscream is clearly the older and more experienced one but everyone witnesses Megatron's transformation into a very warped and corrupted version of himself as he comes to terms with his newfound power, then asserting his dominance through violence. At the same time, we've somehow timeskipped to fighting the autobots on earth. These are just a bunch of very messy and self-indulgent thoughts, but I am recently exploding with this idea about Starscream and need to get all of them out bit by bit sksksk. Thank you all for reading and for the encouragement!!

@dratchetsimp this is for you!!

It's painful to watch the pressure mount on Starscream by the day as Megatron's anger grows. Once upon a time, you might have agreed with him - you, like many others, felt betrayed by Sentinel and wanted to see Cybertron rebuilt. But over time, Megatron loses himself to the insanity of plotting and revenge. You'd heard that he'd gone by D-16, once. You wonder what that bot was like, before shaking your helm to remind yourself that no matter who he was, D-16 was gone and there was no use lingering over such thoughts.

Starscream barely recharges - you used recharge stiff and upright in the barracks amongst the other low-ranking decepticons - but Starscream had somehow pulled a few strings to allow you to share his habsuite. He doesn't divulge the details, deliberately evasive - but you've managed to piece together the gist of it.

"It's admirable how loyal your pet is, Starscream," Megatron sneered. "Impressive given that I cannot expect the same from you."

Starscream had taken all of it - the insults, the humiliation, with clenched servos and wings trembling with rage. But in the end, it had been worth it, because Megatron finally dismissed him with a lazy wave of his servos with permission to do whatever he wished with you.

As bots in the barracks milled around, preparing for recharge, you hadn't realised that the chatter around you had petered off into unsettled silence until Starscream barked your designation, curt and commanding.

"With me," he commanded, and abruptly stalked out of the barracks before even waiting to see if you would follow (of course you would).

The whispers of the others fell on deaf audials as you hurried out of the barracks to chase after Starscream - you fall into step behind him as he leads you to some part of the base that you've never seen before. You pass door after door, and it soon dawns on you that these are the officers' habsuites.

"Sir...?"

Starscream doesn't deign to answer you, instead coming to an abrupt stop in front of one of the rooms. The suspicion as to where he was taking you had taken hold, but you had scarcely dared to believe it. Yet, the door to Starscream's habsuite whooshes open, leaving you with the inability to deny your suspicions any longer.

"You are to recharge here, now," Starscream says curtly. "Do not return to the barracks unless ordered. Is that clear?"

You can only nod, shocked by the turn of events. Your old sleeping arrangements hadn't been that dire. That is, if you didn't count the filth, the sounds of snoring, fighting, fragging - and bolting awake from your nightmares only to have some other bot yell at you to keep it down. Okay. Maybe it wasn't great. But did he really care that much?

As your processor works to digest your newfound situation, Starscream promptly flings himself down onto the berth. "Well?" he says, with an irritable growl. "Are your pedes rooted to the ground, or are you going to recharge?"

You're startled back into motion, tentatively approaching the berth before clumsily attempting to maneuver yourself into a position where you won't touch Starscream. It's awkward, to say the least, lying next to your commanding officer like this. To make matters worse, Starscream's habsuite runs cold - and you are becoming increasingly aware of your smaller frame's inability to conserve heat. Starscream must have picked up on the small tremors of your frame (he'd been lying awake the whole time to carefully gauge your responses), because all of a sudden, your commander's handsome faceplate is right in front of yours, and you squeal as you find yourself yanked closer to him, right up against his chassis.

"Pathetic," Starscream snarls, even as he's carefully tucking you against him. "How are you going to fend for yourself when you can't even fend against the cold?" Against your better judgement, you snuggle closer, gratefully taking in the much-needed warmth of his frame. Even if his words are harsh, the gentle way he cradles you against him betrays his true intentions.

"Recharge," he orders, and you, like the good soldier you are, promptly obey.

Which is why, after settling into a routine in his habsuite, you are very aware of just how little Starscream recharges. He's always at his desk, viciously muttering something or other over a towering stack of datapads. His frame is tense, as well - plates drawn tight around him defensively, wings constantly hitched up with the amount of stress he's under. You've tried to persuade him to recharge, but he simply snarls and waves you away. The most that he will accept is the energon you bring him. These days, it's a challenge to find any empty space on his desk to set the cubes down.

After Starscream successfully locates an energon mine, you are hopeful, perhaps naively so, that Megatron will finally give him a break. You finally understand the grim look on Starscream's faceplate right before he went to report to Megatron about his findings. The warlord is pleased, but not necessarily at the idea of your species' continued survival - rather, the discovery of abundant energon had swelled his confidence in plans to launch an offensive against the Autobots. You glance at your commanding officer, standing at attention on the bridge - his posture appears relaxed and confident, but you as a seeker know what tells to look for - his twitching wings say it all.

Starscream is exhausted, even if he stubbornly refuses to admit it. His systems are on high alert and constantly fire off at the tiniest things - he'd nearly taken your helm off with his null ray when you came to deliver him a cube of energon. His wide optics meet your terrified faceplate before he quickly disables his weapon, optics offlining as he sags back in his chair.

"Frag it," Starscream mutters, rubbing his faceplate with rough servos. "That slagging, good-for-nothing spawn of a glitch. We're in no shape to fight."

It's true - demoralization was at an all-time high. Bots were exhausted and running on fumes from the prolonged lack of energon, and would need time to recover. However, you're more worried about Starscream - inevitably, he's going to play a major role in the attack. While you don't doubt his strength, sheer willpower could only get any bot so far - and you've been worried about him keeling over on the spot for a while.

Leading up to the attack, you gaze at your commander as he stands on the precipice of a rocky cliff overlooking the Autobots' regular area of patrol. He looks so alone, and you cannot bear it as soon as you watch his servos curl into a fists, the only show of emotion he will allow himself. You know he's forcing himself to stay upright, if only to hide the defeated slump of his shoulders because as he said - the Decepticons are in no condition to fight, and you only need glance back to at the rest of the straggling troops to see that he's correct.

He glances at you as you quietly step forwards to stand beside him. His faceplate is expressionless, but his servos relax as your optics meet for a few nanokliks. "With me," he says quietly, only for your audials. Then, he's looking forwards again, resolute, as the Autobots rev into view below you and Megatron roars the command to attack.

The battle was a disaster. Under Orion Pax's - no, Optimus Prime's - leadership, the Autobots had spent time refueling and familiarizing themselves with their new surroundings, giving them the upper hand in both physical combat and strategy. It wasn't long before Megatron was bellowing at you to retreat, and Knockout soon found himself with his hands full and a line of the injured spilling out of his medbay and winding down the corridors in a cacophony of pained groans.

You'd escaped relatively unscathed, with no injuries that required immediate attention, and were thankful to see that Starscream was the same. However, he only seemed to grow more tense as you both landed back at base. "Go to my habsuite," Starscream orders. He's so tense that his frame is close to vibrating. "Do not come out until I return."

Before you can ask him what's happening, he's stalking off in the direction of the bridge, and... oh.

You're once more struck by the sheer feeling of helplessness as you watch him go. You couldn't even get him to recharge properly, take better care of himself when he took such good care of you, considering the circumstances - and now, even though the battle had left you both relatively unscathed, it seemed that you'd counted your blessings too early. You knew you had no hope of protecting Starscream against what Megatron was about to do, and you hated it.

Back in Starscream's habsuite, you'd dragged the med kit out and waited anxiously, wearing circles into the floor with your pacing. You hoped it wouldn't be too bad. After all, the failure had not been Starscream's fault and he'd just located an energon mine. Surely...?

By now, you really should have learned not to get your hopes up. It's a few cycles before a loud bang shudders unexpectedly through the room, as if something - or somebot, had fallen against the door. You shoot up, frantically slapping at the door unlock button, and Starscream all but collapses into his habsuite in a bloodied heap.

"Oh, Primus," you breathe, horrified, and launch yourself forwards to drag him into the room.

Even just by touching him, your servos are sticky with energon, and you bite back a sob as you fumble with the latches of the med kit. You have no idea where to start and are the least qualified bot here to do this, but you know that if you tried to drag Starscream to the medbay in front of lines and lines of Decepticon soldiers, he would regain consciousness just to tear you apart himself.

His optics are offlined, and the only thing keeping you from breaking down is the subtle rise and fall of his chassis. You reign yourself in best as you can, and try to remember what you've been taught in the one stellar cycle you were at the Academy. Okay. Initial assessment: jagged rips in his plating, torn wires... it looked bad, but these were all injuries you could deal with as accidents during training had been inevitable - and you thank Primus that the integrity of his wings had been spared, with rips in the plating like the rest of his frame but no torn wires there.

You snatch a cloth and the welder out of the med kit with shaky servos, swiping haphazardly at the energon on Starscream's chassis. A screeching buzz fills the air as you get to work on the biggest tear that you can see. He can get Knockout to buff them out later, because as ugly as your handiwork might be, right now you're only concerned with getting the energon to stop because there's just so much.

You're almost done with the biggest rip when Starscream's systems suddenly hiss back to life, and his optics cycle before blearily landing on you. After a moment, they slide to the screeching welder in your shaky servo, taking in his battered frame, the pool of energon below you both before offlining his optics again and lying back with a groan. You continue with your work, and Starscream doesn't interrupt you, allowing you to turn his arms this way and that as you re-join wires and solder his plates to the best of your ability. At some point, he'd regained enough strength to quietly watch you work, voicing no complaint about the quality of your rough patch job nor flinching or making any sound of pain.

Eventually, the only thing left to patch is his wings. Your vocalizer resets with a click before you can speak. "Sir," you mumble. "Your, uh, your wings need repair as well."

To seekers, wings are sacred, treated as the most intimate parts of one's frame. To be honest, you weren't sure if Starscream would let you touch his wings, and you were really going out on a limb to ask. However, you couldn't sit idly by and not even attempt to fix the jagged rips that marred his beautiful wings. To your shock, Starscream soundlessly heaves himself upright and turns around to bare his wings to you. You must have taken a few nanokliks too long, because Starscream shifts impatiently. "Turbofox got your glossa?" he rasps, and even if his voice sounds weaker than usual, you could cry with relief to hear him again.

You kneel delicately behind him, servo hovering over his left wing before you finally dare to lightly brush your fingers over the smooth plating. Starscream's wings twitch ever so slightly and he ex-vents sharply, but otherwise makes no motion to get away. Wings are especially sensitive and while he betrayed no pain when you were welding the other parts of his frame, you almost felt bad for having to touch the welder to his wings, despite the necessity. The welder screeches again, and Starscream visibly shudders when it touches the edge of the first rip. His servos are close to digging dents into the floor by the time you get to the second one, and he's ex-venting raggedly. "Last one," you murmur, wanting desperately to offer some comfort.

Starscream nods wordlessly and braces himself again, shoulders tense as the screech of the welder fills the air. The last rip has torn into his aileron and he can't hold back a ragged gasp as you work the welder over the tender area. You hate feeling him jerk and twitch beneath your servos in barely-suppressed agony. But finally, after what feels like forever, you click the welder off and plunge the room back into silence, save for Starscream's rough ex-vents. You are reluctant to move away from him so quickly, especially when he's in this condition, so you quietly stay where you are, gently brushing your servo over the broad, unmarred sections of his wings in silent comfort.

He could have easily pushed you away, but you're relieved that he doesn't, allowing you to continue touching him as he collects himself. It's a few kliks before he makes to get up, scowling in disgust as he takes in his energon caked frame and the rapidly drying puddle on the floor. You busy yourself with tidying the med kit, purposely looking away as Starscream takes a nanoklik to steady himself.

He's no doubt due for a visit to the washracks, and looking down at your own frame, you're no better. If anything, you're eager to cleanse yourself of Starscream's energon - the memory of his crumpled frame on the floor flashes through your processor, and you accept with quiet resignation that this will feature in your nightmares at some point.

"Cadet."

You look up, and Starscream is watching you with an unreadable expression on his faceplate.

"You performed well."

With wide optics, you nod jerkily at him from where you're still kneeling on the floor. You swear you caught the corner of his intake twitch upwards before he whirled round and stalked off again, clearly in dire need of a wash.

Rising to your pedes with a wince, you shake out the numbness of compressed wires in your legs. However, your spark thrums with the dizzying satisfaction of having been able to help, and the lightheaded thrill of receiving praise from Starscream.

Previous

[thisapplepielife]

Written for @steddieholidaydrabbles.

Who's the Dad?

Prompt Day 31: Midnight | Word Count: 1000 | Rating: T | CW: None | Tags: Modern AU, Established Steddie, Middle Age, Steddie as Parents, TikTok Trend, Platonic Stobin, Corroded Coffin Guys, Goodie Doesn't Want to Hold That Baby, New Year's Eve Fun is Different When You're Older

"Why am I holding this baby?" Goodie asks, taking Betts from Robin and awkwardly holds her up in the air under her arms. Looking right at her, as if he's willing her not to cry. 

She doesn't, but Betts is highly suspicious of this arrangement. 

Goodie is too, apparently. He might cry first.

Eddie laughs, "That's your niece. Act like you've met before." 

They're gonna have to set this to music, and hope the lip-reading lady doesn't come along and expose them.

Steve is recording on Robin's phone, falling victim to another tiktok trend, but he can't wait to see if the internet can guess who her dad is. Especially since she has two. They're kind of cheating, but that just makes it more fun.

They pass her to Jeff next, and Jeff does better, but grins as he passes her back, "I think that I might be the obviously incorrect answer." 

Eddie laughs, "Adoption, man. Lots of options. Just act cool."

Steve's not sure any of them can be cool. Not anymore. They're too old for that.

"Why are we doing this again?" Goodie asks, hovering behind Jeff, as if he's scared he might be handed her again.

"Because we're bored. And old. And if we want to stay awake for midnight to ring in the new year we need to be entertained for the next four hours," Steve explains.

New Year's Eve isn't as wild as it once was, that's for damn sure.

As soon as Gareth walks in the front door, Steve is filming as Robin immediately hands Betts over to him. Gareth takes her with one hand, gripping her little thigh as he holds her securely to his side. 

Then he looks around at them looking at him, "Why are you all looking at me?"

Everybody just laughs.

Betts isn't paying much attention to Gareth, but she's used to him. Gareth's girls are older, and he's definitely been hands-on to get his baby fix from a kid he can hand back when she starts to cry or needs a diaper change.

Eddie gets his turn, making her laugh and Steve thinks it's very cute. Then Eddie takes the camera for Steve to have his. Betts pays exactly no attention to him, preferring to look over his shoulder at everyone else in the crowded house.

Then they keep moving: Dustin, Mike, Lucas, Will, Jonathan, Argyle. The video's gonna be ten minutes long at this rate.

Robin posts it, the clock strikes midnight, and Steve doesn't think anything of it. Not really.

But when he wakes up in the new year, they've gone viral. Really viral. Thousands of comments are full of guesses, some right, some wrong. And lots and lots of thirst that's spread around to all of them. It's…a lot. It's a lot.

Eddie's already scrolling through them before Steve's even found his glasses.

"Why do they think Gareth is her dad before they think it's me?" Eddie asks, indignant. 

"They don't not think it's you. There are lots of offers to birth your baby if she isn't yours," Steve argues. And there are. Some of these comments are filthy.

"Everybody thinks it's you, and if not you, then Gareth," Eddie says, still complaining. 

He's not totally wrong. 

"They only think it's me because they've dug through Robin's profile. They're cheating," Steve says.

"No, they think Betts looks the most comfortable with you!" Eddie says, and Steve is afraid this is gonna turn ugly, quick. She wasn't uncomfortable with Eddie, she was being entertained. Of course she was looking at him.

Steve needs to diffuse this, but Eddie keeps going, "Elizabeth. How could you?"

He's so dramatic. Steve loves him, but it's too early for this.

"You were making her laugh. Of course she was gonna be looking at you," Steve suggests, trying to keep this from becoming an issue.

"Well, what about Gareth?!" Eddie says, shrill, poking at the screen of his phone.

"Gareth has kids. They had twins, Ed. He's incapable of being uncomfortable holding a baby, it was beaten out of him by overexposure. He could hold two babies at once. One is nothing."

Eddie laughs, but Steve can tell his feelings are a little hurt. They shouldn't have done this, but it just seemed like silly fun. Especially to see the uncomfortable ones, like Goodie and Mike, struggle to look like they've ever held a baby before.

Some of the guesses for Steve were because she paid no attention to him. He's old news. But a lot of them honestly were people digging into Robin's profile, seeing that he is heavily featured, but not watching the videos to see that they are best friends, not a couple.

Yeah, she was comfortable in his arms, and had no reason to check him out to make sure she wasn't gonna get dropped on her head. Gareth had the same vibes.

Eddie had decided to entertain her, and the audience, and that certainly worked against him. It charmed everyone, and Betts was clearly comfortable with him, but they weren't sure she was his, because of it.

"They think she looks like you," Eddie says.

Steve laughs, "Well, we all know that's not true."

Eddie finally laughs, the crisis averted, and rolls closer to Steve. Steve wraps his arms around him, pulling him in tight.

Betts starts crying through the monitor on the nightstand.

"I think you should go, as her favorite," Eddie says, burying his face into Steve's pillow. 

Yeah, yeah. He'll take one for the team. Eddie gets today to whine about this, but that's all. That's it.

Steve stands, and throws a t-shirt over his head, and heads for the bedroom door, "That's fine. I'll go continue to woo her to my side. As the favorite."

Eddie lays there for a second, and when he finally processes it, he says, "Hey! Wait a minute!"

And Steve just laughs as he closes the bedroom door behind him. This will fix itself by noon. Guaranteed.

If you want to write your own, or go see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @steddieholidaydrabbles and follow along with the fun!

Notes: If you've seen this trend on tiktok it is generally pretty easy to tell who is the dad! I think the secret is don't look at who the baby looks like, look at how they're being held and if they are curious about the situation they've found themselves in, lol.

[elysianightsss]

Oh my gosh I love love LOVE your ND reader as an autistic person myself when I find a fic or fics with a neurodivergent reader I cherish them and these my darling are a treasure. Please can you write when she realises that she likes Kyle? Thankyou Thankyou!

Soulmate 141 x ND Reader

You realise you like Kyle too

After a stressful day all you wanted was a slice of that chocolate chip banana bread, you could say it was a craving at this point. Something that was very rare for you.

Heading to your regular coffee shop after work, it was quiet at this time. The inside was all lit up with a golden orange glow from the lights hanging from the ceiling and the sweet vintage lamps littering the tables. It was getting dark outside, you figured you’d probably have to call a taxi soon.

“Oh hi, you’re not here at your normal time.” You looked up from where you had been getting your phone out of the black leather bag hanging on your shoulder.

“Hi Kyle.” You smiled at the man in front of you. Deep soulful brown eyes you could drown yourself in, beautiful chocolate skin that looked so silky and smooth under the orange glow. Holding a broom in his hand you only just noticed how most of the chairs were stacked on the tables. “Oh I’m so sorry it’s probably closing time soon. I’ll just go.”

“No it’s okay,” Kyle rushes out, the tips of his ears burning when he reached out and grabbed your wrist. Quickly he let go as if your skin had burnt him. He cleared his throat with a mumbled apology, “It’s alright, stay. I’ll make your regular.” He gave you a simple smile that had your insides warning up like seeing lights on the tree on Christmas morning.

A small nod, a little hesitant to ask for what you really wanted. Kyle noticed and managed to peel the information from you. “One slice of chocolate chip banana bread coming right up.” He grinned gesturing you towards one of the two empty tables that didn’t have chairs on them.

A few minutes pass of you just watching the outside world through the huge glass windows and Kyle is placing your regular and your craving in front of you on the table. You take a sip, eat a bite and sigh.

“Good?” Kyle asks sounding genuinely interested to know.

“So good.” You say, voice all muffled from the food stuffed in your cheeks. The answer, along with the cutest food pout he’s ever seen, makes Kyle grin. His heart skips a beat, his stomach flutters and his hands become sweaty. Such a reaction you pull from him and you don’t even know. He’s fought and killed men twice his size and yet here you are making him nervous.

Kyle doesn’t sit down, he gives you your space like you like but he can’t stop himself from glancing at you out the corner of his eye. Can’t fight the need to have you in his sights even if it’s a struggle to say no to the voice in his head urging him to take you in his arms.

He’s a strong man, mentally and physically. He can do this, if not for his sake, if not for his team’s sake, then for yours.

The next thirty minutes get away from you both, Kyle is just amazing at making you giggle. He jokes and says silly things that you’re almost certain he doesn’t mean but it’s funny either way.

Plate empty, drink finished and yet you find yourself wanting to stay. Wanting to converse with this lovely man that you spend twenty minutes with every morning. The way his eyes light up when you banter with him, how he grins to himself at your unrelatable awkward jokes.

If you could pick up on social queues maybe you’d actually see how much he likes you but you’re stuck on the realisation he might be number four on your list.

Kyle clears your table and once he’s done he offers you a ride home. It’s dark outside and unsafe are your reasonings for saying yes, definitely not that the gorgeous man in front of you looks like heaven to you.

The drive home is quiet, but a peaceful type of serene you love. The type you daydream about at your desk when things are too loud and overstimulating at work. Kyle can’t wipe the smirk off his face imagining Johnny and Simon’s reactions when he pulls up with you in the passenger seat.

He’s the complete gentleman when he does, opening the car door for you, a warm hand just hovering over the small of your back as he walks you up to the door of your flat building. It’s so sweet and endearing. It’s more than you’ve ever had before, it’s makes you a little light headed or is that just the cologne he’s wearing?

Either way it makes you go stupid, leaning forward with no control and lightly pressing your lips against his cheek. The action makes you jolt back to reality, you jump away from him a hand over your mouth eyes wide in shock. Kyle seems just as shocked, and when he goes to speak you basically shout ‘bye’ in his face before bursting into the building and sprinting up the stairs.

You completely ignore Johnny stood in the doorway of his flat with worried eyes, he asks if you’re okay as you’re unlocking your door but you don’t answer him. Your only goal is getting inside and slamming the door shut, you do it quickly before Johnny can ask more questions.

Johnny, one of the guys you like.

Johnny. Simon. John. And now Kyle. Maybe you should go to therapy? No, probably not best to go down that rabbit hole. Maybe just a week away from them all should set your mind right.

Yes, that should do it.

[lexirosewrites]

for slick sunday, i've been thinking about this very specific idea for the last two days (it's been adjusted slightly to fit the "new" theme for this week just bc i think it's fun :) )

thinking of alpha eddie and omega steve in a secret relationship. they've been courting for ages, on the cusp of mating, but they've been waiting for the right time. neither of them were quite ready to take their relationship into the world, and that's exactly what would've happened had they mated. see, eddie is very much in the public eye. his band is, like, really out there. not quite world famous, but they do a lot of press and a bunch of different projects and such. eddie was recently featured on a relatively popular song, and the others have been in movies/tv shows as one-off side characters here and there. point is, people know who they are. and the paparazzi knows nothing about privacy.

it's not exactly easy to hide a mating bond (tho it is possible), so they just decided together that they would wait.

and then steve gets pregnant.

they still don't mate yet, but it changes everything for them. they know they're not going to be able to hide it for long. part of steve is a little relieved, honestly. he'd never say it out loud, but he missed the days before eddie got famous. when they could go out on dates and grocery shop together and just generally exist together in public, even though they were still keeping it pretty low-key back then too.

steve mostly stays home during the first several months of his pregnancy. it's hard on him, and there are days he can barely get out of bed because he feels so sick. he gets lightheaded easily, and he's constantly nauseous. the doctor said it's normal. he just needs rest and fluids. so that's what he does. and they talk, a lot. about everything.

eddie never makes a formal statement about their relationship, that's never been his vibe. he does, however, hard launch their relationship via one photo on social media. it's of him and steve on new years, standing in front of the christmas tree they hadn't taken down yet. they're wearing those headbands that have the year in giant, flimsy, gold numbers, facing each other. they're foreheads are pressed together, and eddie is grinning like a goddamn idiot bc of how in love with steve he is. steve's six-month baby bump is between them, and eddie's got his hands over the sides. it's captioned with a simple, "new year, new adventures with the love of my life"

obviously, that photo practically breaks the internet within two hours. it's everywhere. everyone is talking about it. the band doesn't say a word, outside of gareth logging into the band account to share it on their story, and the others sharing the post on their own accounts. they all just go on as normal, like nothing ever happened. they don't answer any of the comments. the band is seen coming and going from the studio a few times over the next month and a half, and then nothing. radio silent on all fronts. everyone wants to know what's going on.

it's at the end of april that people finally get their answer, in a series of photos posted to eddie's account. photos of a tiny baby; some with steve in them, some with eddie, but mostly just the baby. hailey jo munson (jo, after wayne, who's middle name is joseph; he definitely did NOT cry about that, thank you very much) was born on april 5th, happy and healthy and loved.

four months after that, eddie is seen leaving a grocery store with bags of baby supplies in his arms, a wedding band on his finger, and a fresh mating bite. no one is the least bit surprised by that one.

and no one is surprised in the slightest when a year and a half later, after corroded coffin's probably most successful album is released (there's a couple songs that are not-so-secretly about hailey, tho eddie really did try to be subtle), another pregnancy announcement goes live on eddie munson's account.

happy slick sunday my friends :)

i know slick sunday has ruined me because i kept waiting for something bad to happen😅 thank you for the fluff!!!

[marauder-misprint]

Date

Series Masterlist

Sirius Black x Fem!Slytherin!reader

2k words

cw: fluff, mention of Walburga's A+ parenting

Dorcas watches as you pace around your dorm. You look ready for your Hogsmeade date with Sirius. Mentally? You’re a mix of freaking out and angry. You aren’t sure why you’re freaking out but you know why you’re angry. Regulus. You knew you shouldn’t be too mad at him. It was just one date and then Sirius would be in his debt for some unnamed favor. But it was going to be a wasted day. This was a sentiment you repeatedly reminded Dorcas. She was waiting for you to get out of your own head so the two of you could meet your dates outside the Great Hall. 

“Is it too late to fall mysteriously ill?” you ask, pausing your pacing momentarily. 

“Yes,” Dorcas answers curtly. “And we really should get going. They’ll be waiting for us.”

“Marlene is always waiting on you. We’re in the dungeons, remember?”

“Yes, I’m aware. But Black doesn’t need to be waiting on you.”

You make a sound that says he does. 

“He doesn’t. Come on.”

Dorcas grabs your hand and pulls you toward the door. Pandora, Barty, Evan and Regulus are all sitting in the common room. You send Regulus a death glare as Dorcas continues to drag you out of the Slytherin Dungeons. You swear you can hear Barty and Evan’s laughter through the common room door after it closes behind you. 

“So sorry we’re late,” Dorcas says, finally releasing your hand outside of the Great Hall. She kisses Marlene’s cheek. “Someone,” she gives you a pointed look, “was dragging her feet.”

You roll your eyes before giving Sirius an unapologetic look. He just smiles and throws an arm over your shoulder.

“Nervous for our date, are you?” he asks cheekily. He knows it’s not nerves.

“Whatever helps you sleep at night,” you grumble. 

Sirius steers you out of the castle and to the path to Hogsmeade. Dorcas and Marlene linger back, letting Sirius put some distance between them. The girls had been recruited to ensure that you at least got to Hogsmeade with Sirius. It wasn’t exactly a secret that you yelled at Regulus for saying ‘yes’ to his brother.

“So, what do you usually do in Hogsmeade?” Sirius asks. 

You shrug. “Aren’t we just going to Honeydukes and Broomsticks?”

“If that’s all you want to do. That was just supposed to get you here”

“Here,” you repeat. “Under your arm, is that where you want me?”

“It’s a nice place to have you.”

“What a line, Black…” 

“What?” he asks, cocking his head slightly. “It’s the truth. I wasn’t lying when I said that I enjoy myself when I’m around you.”

You snort a laugh as you pull out from under his arm. “Name someone you don’t enjoy yourself around.”

“My parents.”

The immediateness of the answer throws you off guard. As does the answer itself. You had heard some of the horror stories from Regulus, but you didn’t know how deep it went. Regulus seemed… fine. 

“Yeah? That was a quick answer. Want to elaborate?”

“Are we getting into the deep stuff right away?” he asks with a raised eyebrow. “We haven’t even made it to Hogsmeade yet!”

“Just curious how bad your parents actually are. Regulus only opens up so much about them.” 

If you had been looking at Sirius, you would’ve seen his face go stoney. It was one thing to talk about his parents and childhood with the Marauders; it was going to be another to discuss it with you. You knew Regulus. You were friends with him, and in Slytherin with him.

“There’s more than one reason I ran away over the summer. There’s only so much a person can take.” 

“So much of what?” 

“The abuse.”

You expect him to leave it at that and finish the walk to Hogsmeade in silence. But he doesn’t.

“The yelling. The curses. The bigotry. The goddamn blood purity mindset. I had to get out of there. And I’m not leaving him behind, if that’s what you’re thinking. I’m going to get him out of there too.” 

“I wasn’t going to-”

“It was just so spur of the moment this summer. I just snapped. I needed to breathe. And now that I can, I can help him get out.”

“Sirius-”

“I didn’t want to leave Regulus behind. He’s my brother. I hated leaving him in that house. And-”

“Sirius!” This time you interrupt him. “Are you okay?”

You reach up and wipe a tear off his cheek. He isn’t sure when he started crying. He stops walking and wipes the rest of his face on his sleeve. He chuckles but it sounds wrong. It sounds sad.

“Yeah. Yeah. I’m good. I’m fine.” He pauses to take a deep breath. “Very cheerful way to start this date, huh?” 

“‘Fraid that’s my fault, isn’t it? I asked you to elaborate.”

“And how could you know about Walburga and Orion?”

“You said it was deep stuff. I should’ve left it…”

Sirius shakes his head as you approach the small bridge to Hogsmeade. 

“Just don’t go treating me and Reg differently now that you know. He’d hate it.”

“People walk on eggshells around you?” you ask softly.

“It flips a switch and suddenly I’m back to being a child who needs taking care of.”

You laugh. “Well, you may be a child, but you certainly don’t need taking care of.”

“Oh, if you want to see a child…” Sirius says, a happier look returning to his face, “then we should start at Honeydukes.”

“Lead the way, Black,” you say rather nonchalantly.

He grabs your hand and pulls you through the village toward the sweets shop. Once inside, you understood fully what he meant. He flits around the store like a hummingbird, never at one stand for too long, but soon enough, he has his arms full of candy. You followed him around and picked out your own treats. As promised, he buys everything you picked out.

“Black family fortune,” he says casually as he hands several galleons to the shopkeeper. 

“Would you mind if we went to Scrivenshaft’s?” you ask Sirius.

“Anywhere you want to go, we’re going.”

You smile and this time you lead him to the store. He holds your bag of candy as you wander the quill shop. He diligently follows you and listens to you ramble on about the pros and cons of different quills, which tip types you preferred and which feathers you thought were the prettiest. After you picked a gorgeous set that came with a fresh ink pot, Sirius insists on paying again. 

“You’ll be using them to write to me over Christmas. It’s the least I can do.”

You roll your eyes but oblige him. Could you really complain about not having to spend your own money? Sirius saw it as a win that you didn’t retort with something about not writing to him. Maybe you were warming up to the idea of him. Maybe he was converting you to a Sirius Person.

Once you leave that store, you and Sirius make your way to the Three Broomsticks. Your conversation is lighthearted and teasing. He asks about your family, which is quite different from his. You tell him about your mother’s disdain for pets. You talk about what careers you’re thinking about for after Hogwarts. You talk about his life at the Potters’. 

“So James’ parents… They don’t mind Padfoot?” you ask with your butterbeer in hand. 

“As long as I clean up after him,” Sirius says, which he tells himself isn’t a complete lie. 

Effie and Monty didn’t really know about the animagus forms of the teenages in their home. Any mess the boys made in their animagus forms could easily be a mess they made in their human forms. They never got too irritated with the boys as long as they helped clean up. The Potters liked animals but thought pets required too much time and energy. And James had never asked for one growing up. Sirius was certain that if James had, the Potters would have had a pet. 

“There is one thing I’d like to know,” Sirius says semi-cautiously as you work through your third butterbeer. 

“Shoot.”

“Do you think I’m attractive?”

You choke on the butterbeer you had just sipped as he asked his question. Your mug slams into the table loudly. You’re coughing. All Sirius can do is look at you concerned. 

“Excuse… me?” you manage to rasp between coughs. 

“Regulus said…” Sirius says quietly as if regretting bringing it up.

You squeeze your eyes and take a cautious sip of your drink in an attempt to soothe your burning throat. 

“You’re asking if I think…” you say after a moment. 

“If you think I’m attractive. Pretty. Handsome. Dashing. Ravishing?” 

“You’re quite forward, you know that?”

“That’s not what I asked.”

You shake your head in disbelief. Embarrassment floods your features as you realize that he might interpret that as you saying he wasn’t attractive.

“I don’t want to feed your ego,” you say quickly. Then you sigh defeatedly. “Yes, you’re attractive, Sirius. I don’t think you need me to tell you that though.”

“Oh, but it’s so nice to hear it coming from you.”

“I’m sure it is.” You pause as a deep blush covers your face. “Regulus told you?”

Sirius laughs. “Yeah. He said that you think I’m pretty and then threatened to murder me if I hurt you.”

“How nice of him to warn you.”

“Let’s be honest. He didn’t need to threaten me. It was understood when you made me get his permission.”

“I wouldn’t call it permission. He just had to think it’d be a good idea. Which I’m unsure if he actually thinks it is.”

“It’s permission,” Sirius asserts. “If he had said no, we wouldn’t be here.”

You hum. “And what a shame that would be.”

“It would be,” he says solemnly with a nod. “This has been a lot of fun. Genuinely.”

“It wasn’t as horrible as I was expecting.”

“I told you it wouldn’t be.”

You roll your eyes. “You could still ruin it.”

“Hmm, don’t think I will though. I like being right.”

“As do I.”

“You’ll just have to be wrong this time, darling.”

You raise your mug in a toast and take a drink. Sirius mirrors you. He asks you about an essay Professor Flitwick assigned earlier in the week and the conversation begins to flow into light topics again. After you finish your mugs of butterbeer, Sirius pays and you head out of the pub. He walks you back to the castle and you’re half expecting him to try to kiss you. You know his reputation. He doesn’t until you’re at the Grand Staircase and about to split ways, but it isn’t in the way you were expecting. 

“Good night, lovely,” he says before he gently presses his lips to your knuckles. “I truly had a lovely time tonight.”

Then he drops your hand and turns toward Gryffindor Tower. You’re left to stand in utter shock for a moment. Then you turn and slowly walk to the dungeons. Once back at the dungeons, you avoid all of your friends. They watch in slight confusion as you book it to your dorm rather than collapsing on the couch to complain to Regulus. You essentially go straight to bed and close the curtains around you. Your head is spinning. You hadn’t hated the date with Sirius. It was pleasant and, god forbid, fun. You couldn’t figure out if it was just friendly fun or something more though. 

Regulus’ intention of you figuring out how you felt about his brother on this date didn’t go quite as planned. If anything, you were more confused about your feelings for him than before. And you had to debate with yourself if you wanted a second date with Sirius to figure it out or if you should just tell everyone it was fine and you survived and that was it. You knew which was your gut was leaning, but you didn’t want to accept it. 

tags: @2dloveshp, @yearninglustfully, @made-for-oliverwood, @ilovejamespottersomuch, @hisparentsgallerryy, @itsseaberri, @corawithfanfiction, @devilslittlehelper, @jllyunn, @barnes70stark,

tags: @crowleythesexydemon, @flow33didontsmoke, @navs-bhat, @louweenier, @l0g0phobe,

@ellouisa17, @theendofthematerialgworl, @marina468, @bmyva1entine, @ravisinghs-wife

my brain hurts and I'm blaming the stress from visiting my parents for Christmas

[spoofymcgee]

She feels Hermes arrive more than anything; the flutter of his wings against her skin. He's picked her bad side to appear on, and she's not sure whether it's forgetfulness–doubts it, as Hermes is shrewder than he likes to appear, but usually more considerate as well.

He doesn't say anything, though, content to be a presence sitting next to her and another pair of heels kicking off the side of the cliff.

Ithaca has become something of a hotspot for gods these days, and she doesn't know whether it's because of herself or Odysseus. Telemachus, perhaps, finding wayward deities off on his journey and sending them home for her to deal with. If it is, she might have to shake him next time he comes back.

*He'd have been better as your student," Athena says, finally, once they've watched Odysseus fleece two more sailors cocky enough to challenge the king, and sneak four coin pouches, six hats and nine knives off the spectators in the process. He'll give them all back at the end, but he seems like he's enjoying the challenge, and Penelope sits a polite distance away chatting with the captains' wives and occasionally glancing over to grin at him.

"Who?" Hermes says, like the answer isn't obvious. "Oh, Odysseus? Darling, where in the world did you get that conclusion from? Does Persephone have a new sort of flower she's growing, and if so, where can I get some?"

"Don't be an idiot," Athena tells him, but it doesn't come out half as annoyed as she'd meant. Damn, she really is going soft. "I mean it. Look, he's perfect for you, and you wouldn't have led him astray like I did."

"Do me a favor and don't try and foist your pupils off onto me," Hermes says, checking his nails in the sunlight. He's been down in the Levant again recently, she sees; they're colored a faint orange with darker, intricate designs twisting up his knuckles.

"I'm not," she says, feeling the feathers framing her face ruffle in indignation. "He's mine for as long as he'll have me. I'm only saying, if things were different..."

"But they're not," Hermes says flatly, looking up at her. "We live here and now, dear. Besides, if he was my student he would have been even sneakier, and no one would have taken that well. He wouldn't have made it past the age of twenty, and he wouldn't have been brave enough or good enough to protect his family."

"You can't know that," Athena protests, though her hand drifts absently to the edge of her scar.

"And neither can you," he points out, pulling one foot up to tuck under the opposite thigh. "So stop trying. Odysseus is home, Athena. By the looks of it, you are too. You're not doing anyone a favor by living in the past."

She looks down at her hands, twisting in her lap.

"You're a warrior," he says, voice softening. "You've never given up in your whole life. Don't let yourself lose this battle just because you're fighting your own brain."

The breeze is cool on her face, and she grits her teeth as matching tears slip off her chin and land on her chiton. "Alright."

"Good," Hermes says, and hits the cliff with his heel hard enough to send him twirling into the air, sandals fluttering. "Now, take me to where the olives are, I'm positively starving." He holds his hand out like a princess waiting to have it kissed, the other wrist pressed to his brow with his head thrown back, and she can't help but laugh. He's kind enough to ignore how wet it sounds.

"We can't have that, can we?" she says, and launches herself past him fast enough to send him spinning, and doesn't need to look back to tell he's chasing her–the playful outrage is loud enough even for her to hear.

[elssero]

it’s cold by the time he meets you on the roof, you should’ve worn something warmer, you should’ve known you were going to be waiting longer than the ten minutes sero said you would.

it’s stupid, it’s stupid how long you wait for him, it’s stupid how you let yourself get cold, it’s stupid when he finally sneaks through the roof door, it’s so fucking stupid. but you let yourself wait.

you think back to the beginning, how he’d caught you up here on your own after a particularly bad day, how you’d let yourself be comforted by him, consoled by him, held.

how it became your little ritual, he’d told you to meet him back up there tomorrow, same time as that night. how he’d done it again and again, to the point that the words never needed to be said, just a quick goodbye and a ‘see you tomorrow.’

you think about how you’d turned down plans, said you were busy, just so you could spent a few hours with him in the dark. it’s stupid.

you should’ve known really, the touches in silence, the whispering when no one was around, how he’d only give you a small wave when he was around his friends, how he brushed off their questions as him ‘just being nice.’ you should’ve known.

how could you? when he spoke to you like that, he liked the way you wore your hair today, he loves your eyes, he’s just a little shy to say more than hi when your around others.

so you let it go on, you let him make you smile, you let him get closer to you, maybe too close. you hate how it becomes the highlight of your day, how it seems to add nothing to his.

maybe that’s harsh, maybe he did seem genuinely upset when you had to cancel for finals, maybe he did miss you, maybe he just missed feeling you. he can’t, not when he’s seen with others, touching them the same way he would you, at the same parties he dismissed you for. he can’t miss you all that much.

the visits become less often, going from daily to maybe once a week, it doesn’t happen overnight, rather over the course of a few months, until you find yourself no longer expecting his messages, no longer expecting to see him, despite wishing nothing more.

you’ve tried to stand your ground, fight the smile on your face when he asks to see you, fight the way your legs seem to move on their own-

but not tonight, not anymore.

you hear him before you see him, how he climbs the side of the building, it reminds you of a night a couple weeks ago, how quickly he’d jumped from the roof at the smallest noise from the door, he’d ran. he’d ran because he didn’t want to be seen, didn’t want to be seen with you.

you feel him before you see him, when he wraps his arms around your shoulders, your legs hanging from the side of the building- “you shouldn’t sit so close to the edge angel- your quirk isn’t made for falling”

it’s stupid, the nickname is stupid, the way he somehow makes you feel incompetent but also so safe is stupid. you can’t- he can’t.

“i don’t think we should do this anymore.”

it’s a beat before he answers, you still haven’t seen him, but you feel his hands drop from your shoulders, the step back he takes as you stand up, ready to leave.

“wait- what?”

you’d been clear, he doesn’t need anymore than what you’ve given him, he can work the rest out himself. you don’t even get past him before he’s grabbing at you- a hand grasping yours, the other pulling you by the waist.

“what are you talking about? angel- cmon what’s got you upset-” upset, your not just upset, you’ve spent time being upset, infact your done being upset, you’ve accepted this, it’s over.

“it’s nothing- i just don’t think this is working anymore-”

maybe it’s the way he looks at you, or the way he’s holding you, grasping, pleading. it almost makes you stay, makes you move closer to him, be held in his embrace.

“it’s- whatever it is- we can work it out- angel-”

he doesn’t get the last word out before your pawing his hands off you, releasing yourself from his grip, his face falls even further.

“cmon- your not actually being serious-”

but you are, and he knows it too, it’s the look in your eyes, your not waiting for him anymore.

[thursdayinspace]

So, who agrees that revival Mulder and Scully have zero fucks left to give once they're back together? And like having fun without restraint or regrets? Even when they're on the phone with their boss? Anyway, here's a smutty little thing.

Ever since she moved back in, they haven’t been able to keep their hands off of each other. It doesn’t matter what kinds of plans they make on their days off, sooner or later they end up on the couch making out like teenagers, and most of the time it ends with at least one orgasm.

He’s on his back on the couch and she’s on top of him when his phone rings, and he groans. There’s only one reason they’d be getting a call on a Saturday.

“We could ignore it,” she whispers against his lips, and he wants to agree, but they both know that’s not an option.

“We can’t.”

“I know.”

She sits up and he snatches his phone off the coffee table. “Yes?” He knows he sounds annoyed, but Skinner is used to it by now. Mulder feels a little sorry, but also he’s reconnecting with the love of his life after a separation that was really hard on both of them, and he’d just like to be allowed one afternoon without being interrupted.

There’s been sudden progress on a case they’d written off as unsolvable days ago. Of course there is. “I’m sorry, but this really can’t wait,” Skinner says, and Mulder runs a hand over his face with a deep sigh.

“Not even an hour or two?”

As he listens to Skinner giving him details on an investigation that he really doesn’t fucking care about right now, Scully slides off the couch onto the floor and he raises his eyebrows at her in question. She gives him a wicked smile and reaches for his fly, and his eyes widen as he realizes what she’s about to do. His erection that had been flagging at the sound of their boss’s voice is back in a second and he feels a bit dizzy, but obediently lifts his hips as she pulls his pants down right along with his underwear and tugs them off his legs. Skinner is still talking, but Mulder stops listening as Scully wraps her hand firmly around him and slides him into her mouth.

“—probably won’t take long,” Skinner is saying, and Mulder squeezes his eyes shut.

“No, it won’t,” he agrees. He has no idea what they’re talking about. He cards his free hand through Scully’s hair, careful not to pull too hard.

Scully bobs her head experimentally a few times, and then sinks lower and simply swallows him down without warning.

“Fuck,” Mulder says, and Skinner makes a noise of assent on the other end of the line.

“Yes, it’s an unexpected development.”

“You could say that.” The words fall from his lips through a sharp exhale. He bites his lip and drops his head back against the couch as Scully pulls back up slowly with her tongue pressed to the underside of his cock.

Skinner is reading out an address to him now and he does his best to listen while trying not to whimper and beg as Scully’s talented mouth does something amazing to the tip of his cock, and god he needs to end this phone call. Right now.

“Anyway,” Skinner says, “they found—”

The rest of the sentence gets lost in a spike of heat as Scully takes his balls in her hand. He’s gonna combust. He’s finally gonna prove to her once and for all that spontaneous human combustion is a real thing that happens to real people. She’s licking his dick like a fucking popsicle now as she fondles him and he looks down at her, angling the phone away from his mouth, hoping it will keep Skinner from hearing his shaky, heavy breathing.

“Agent Mulder?” he hears. “Do you agree?”

“Uhhn,” he gets out. “ Yeah. Uhhhh. Yes.”

“Okay. I’ll make the necessary arrangements.”

“God,” he whispers as Scully wraps her lips around him again, her hand jerking off the part of him her mouth can’t reach. “I mean good. Yeah. Very good.”

There’s silence for a moment before Skinner asks, “Is everything alright?”

“Mmmmhmm,” he answers. “Great. Perfect.”

“So you’re on your way?”

“Oh, yes,” he says enthusiastically, heart hammering in his chest, every muscle in his body clenching up as he spirals closer and closer to the edge. “I’m definitely coming.”

“With agent Scully.”

“She’s gonna come to,” Mulder promises, and he’s never been more grateful for anything in his life when he hears the call disconnect. He drops the phone and finally lets himself moan out loud as Scully slides her mouth down again and back up, sucking him hard, cheeks hollowed out.

He comes so hard he blacks out for a second, vaguely aware of her stroking him through it, his thighs trembling as his hips buck up into her wonderful, hot mouth.

“Oh fuck, oh shit,” he pants once the world swims back into focus, and he watches her wipe her mouth before climbing into his lap. She takes his hand to guide it between her thighs. At some point, she must have taken her own pants off.

She’s so fucking wet. His fingers slip into her and she grips his wrist tightly as she frantically rides his hand. It takes seconds before she cries out and comes, her free hand fisted into the fabric of his shirt, and he’s never seen anything hotter in his life.

They end up the way they started: he on his back and Scully on top of him, panting and boneless.

“That was…” he says.

“Yeah,” she agrees.

“Do you think Skinner could tell?”

She chuckles softly. “Does it matter?”

“No,” he says. It doesn’t. Nothing matters except her. “You’re amazing.”

“Thank you,” she says. “You’re not so bad yourself.”

He laughs and hugs her tight. They’ll have to get going soon, but he thinks they’re allowed five more minutes.

[jjcanwrite]

Under The Moonlight /|\ An ateez × reader fic

Under The Moonlight ~ Chapter I

Pairing: OT8Demi-wolfAteez! × HumanReader! (Mingi focus in this chapter)

Sypnosis: It's about midwinter in the forest you reside in, that time of year where it's absolutely beautiful to watch in during the day but the worst frustration to go through at night. A forgotten lanter turns into a forgotten home, and you quickly find yourself in the tight grip of none other than Song Mingi, a young wolf in the pack you met a few months ago, who has every intention to bring you back to the pack's closing and finally keep you there..~

Series content warnings!: heavy but not dark concepts like violence, insecurities, mental health, slight depictions of gore, mentions of blades, etc - Polygamy - Eventually smut- Animalistic/hybrid tendencies e.i, marking, heats/ruts, scents/scenting, clingy behavior, growling, the boys do have tails,ears,and heightened senses, ect. - Reader does develop some kind of animal mindset after marking (this will be elaborated on later. It's kind of like a second sex but..not.)

Chapter warnings: Kidnapping (but not really.) - very, VERY slight threatening behavior from Mingi (reader doesn't feel threatened, just startled), Joong is kinds mad at Mingi towards the end but not majorly, overall this chapter is pretty tame 🧍‍♀️

A/N: I will be making separate posts about how this universe works!! Please feel free to ask any and all questions because I will give them an answer 🙂‍↕️

Word count:1500-1600

Your feet are gentle on the smooth stones of your cottages path, the air is chilly and slow as it is every harvest season. The problem is, it's dark, really dark.

Maybe it's just the trees and all their leaves that are blocking out the moonlight, but the sky is also cloudy and hazed. The wind in the air is absent, but you can see your breath get wipped into a white cloud of cold smoke with every exhale.

You usually wouldn't even be out at this time of night, especially not at this time of year, and you wouldn't be out now if it wasn't for that stupid lamp you left out early that evening.

It's just entering winter, which means it's time to collect all of the lost hay, lamps, and clear out this year's harvests (which really isn't much for you considering that you live close enough to the village to attend the market). But, this time of year it's also hunting season. For..the wolf's, that is.

Now, you normally aren't very fearful of the demi-wolfs in your area, they're actually quite peaceful and friendly if you take the time to get to know them, but..it's different during hunting season. They hunt for all kinds of things, food, shelter, mates, more food. They just hunt, that's what the season is for! But, they almost enter a state of ferality during this time of year. The thoughts become more primal, more instintual and the pack near you, which also happened to be the pack you were closest with, had made it clear the year before that you could never be to sure if they looked at you with intentions of eating you or marking you as their own.

It was..the ateez pack..or something. You didn't really remember. Most of them seemed much more interested in the warm, peachy scent you radiated rather than anything they felt the need to say.

You figured most things out yourself from the eldest two, who had rightfully informed you of all the information you needed. The wolf's names, how they handled the changing of the seasons, their positions and responsibilities within the pack. Honestly, you weren't sure why they told you all of this, they talked to you as if you were the newest addition to their group and while you flattered, you did think it was a tad odd for them to warm up to you so quickly. Especially one of the younger ones..

Mingi, that was his name. He was the most intimidating looking out of the eight of them. He was tall, well built, but could not keep his mouth shut to save his life. He was also a bit handsy..not in a rude way, of course! But more that he often tended to forget the aspect of personal space. He always had a hand on you, your shoulder, your thigh, your hair, sometimes even drifting down to lock his fingers in with yours. You yourself didn't mind that much, but it always seemed to annoying the rest of the pack members with how touchy he was.

Another thing you learned about Mingi was that he was also rumored to wander about at night the most. "Couldn't sleep", is what he'd always tell you when you found him just a few couple trees outside of your cottage, sometimes you'd even catch San wandering around with him. It did freak you out the first one or two times, but you knew the clumsy giant didn't mean any harm, so you just let him wander without much question.

When you had finally made it to your small lamp left ontop of a tree stump a gentle sigh of relief fell from your lips, you hand quickly grabbing hold of the handle and pulling it up above your head so you could finally see properly-

but your hand never made contact.

The already dying flame burst into nothing but soft smoke, the overpowering scent of oak wood and sage found its way into your nostrils, the smallest hint of sea salt and an aggressive spike of spice filled your senses in a strong gust of wind. An arm came to strongly wrap around your waist, pulling you back and against a tall, firm chest. You knew it the second you had smelt him, it was Mingi, but something was different about his scent. Everything that was normally there still was, but the spice was new. His scent was normally very calm and musky but the spice in it was aggravated and new. Not to mention the wolf-boy's hold on you was much firmer than it usually was. He usually held you like an expensive peice of glass, something that needed to be held with care or would immediately shatter, but the hold he had on you now was that of posession..it was like he was afraid to let you go, afraid to loose your form against his.

His breathing was stuffy and heavy, his ears were pointed and stood tall, and his tail flicked insatiable behind him. There was an underlying growl in his chest, not one you could hear but one you could feel against your back. His hands twitched, clenching and unclenching around the fabric of your clothes. Before you could even process everything correctly he had stuffed his face into the crook of your neck, a small whine leaving him at your scent.

You could feel his canines poke at his lower lip, the low, desperate whine in his throat making it clear how much he was struggling not to dig the enamle into your soft skin.

You just smelt so damn good. He couldn't think properly, all of his thoughts jumbled and incoherent. With how you fit so perfectly into his arms, how your body felt pressed against his, how you smelt against his nose, the only thing he could thing about was taking you back home and keeping you there forever. You were his. You belonged to the pack. He had scented you ages ago which you hadn't noticed yet. It was widely known that demi-wolfs would share everything with their pack, so the second he had left his scent on you you had been claimed as theirs.

He felt bad. He felt so guilty wherever he would think about it. He claimed you without your consent, scenting you was almost as possessive as actually marking you, and it didn't just 'go away'. The thoughts of upsetting you hurt him more than whatever warmth was coursing through his blood right now, but the thought of loosing you, especially if it was to some pitiful human, hurt him even more than that.

He couldn't let you go. He couldn't loose you. They couldn't loose you.

Quickly, you feel his arm scoop under your legs, and before you can question anything or protest to his actions he tucks you into his chest and bolts. You know very well where he's going, having walked the path to the pack's cave many times, and as much as you trust him to get you there safely you can't help but be startled.

Any protest you make falls on deaf, fluffy ears. The speed of his movement generating more air than you'd walked through that whole night. It doesn't take him any more than 3 minutes to get to the pack's opening, the mixed scents they all carry finding your nose. They all lacked the spice that Mingi's had acquired, maybe it was something he was wearing? A plant he had eaten..maybe?

However, what was more important was the way Mingi shifted you to being laid over his shoulder. His arms moved to the top of your thigh and the middle of your pack, holding you down on him with the obvious intent of keeping you there.

He didn't pay any mind to the things around him, much more focused on getting you in the core of his den, with the rest of the pack, where you belonged. The only thing that made his pause was a sharp, distinct shout of his name coming from no one but the pack's caption

Hongjoong.

"Mingi! What- what the fuck are you doing!?"

Dispite his size, Hongjoong was the most commanding person you had ever seen, however despite his reputation he was also one of the most comforting. He always seemed to have an answer to every question you asked..even if you were 98% sure he got most of those answers from Seonghwa..

The older wolf's words seemed to snap Mingi out of whatever trance he was in, or at least redirect his attention. Even in whatever..thing..he had going on, he recognized the authority Hongjoong had. It gave you at least a little hope that he'd put you down soon, your stomach was starting to hurt :(

A small yelp let your lips as Mingi lifted you off his shoulder setting you down infront of him and wrapping his arms around your waist, pulling you back against his chest. His ears had flattened slightly, and you could feel the pout on his lips as he rested his chin on the top of your head.

"I brought a gift.."

~•♡•~•♡•~•♡•~•♡•~•♡•~•♡•~•♡•~•♡•~

Taglist:

@mimikittysblog

[freyito]

How about Argenti with a GN reader that gets sick easily?

(ex: crying can cause them to get sick the next day, etc.)

✭ pairing(s): argenti x gn reader

✧ a/n: this one is really cute!! im a freak for writing my favorite goobers taking care of reader no matter the circumstances. if we couldnt tell. (GOD REACHED DOWN AND GRABBED ME BY THE THROAT AND MADE ME SICK WHICH SPURRED ME ON TO FINISH THIS FIC ((i am also fighting MAD burnout so. i apologize in advance just incase.))

✦ taglist: @fffrost, @shinysora

🗒 cw: gn reader, just fluff :3, not proofread

✎ wc: 1.7k

ꜰᴇᴀʀ ɴᴏᴛ

Argenti is used to this. Coming home to you, cuddled up in bed voice raspy and body too warm yet too cold at the same time. Even waking up to you simply feeling miserable, tugging at his arm to get you some water. He doesn’t mind it, not one bit. He has always enjoyed taking care of you, even when you didn’t need it. He doesn’t mean to coddle you, but sometimes the honor of taking care of you overwhelms him.

However, you’ve been getting sick easier lately, and it has him worried. Rather than the usual offenders (cold weather, idiots who didn’t understand what a mask was, and many such cases), all you had been doing was… working. So, why were you so miserable when Argenti came home?

You were practically trapped in bed, every time you stood up your head started spinning. Your throat felt like hell, all scratched up and painful, making your voice deeper and gravelly. It was a constant battle between you and your blankets, one minute you’re way too hot for them, the next, you couldn’t bear to be without the blanket. Ultimately, you chose to stay wrapped up in the blanket, seeing as the shivers never stopped.

When Argenti came home, he found you, quite obviously, stuck in bed, watching some cheesy romance movie you didn’t even put on. You were in and out of consciousness, letting the streaming service auto-play movies and shows. Somewhere along your little horror marathon, the algorithm lost track of the original memo and now you were stuck with some sparkly male protagonist pining after his love interest in the silliest of ways. He kinda reminded you of Argenti. Or perhaps that’s because Argenti was standing in front of the TV, in the perfect position where he was covering the MC entirely, yet the character’s aura of sparkles framed your knight perfectly. Or maybe it was Argenti himself. It was hard to tell with your fizzled out mind.

“My love! Oh, it’s happened again,” He sighs, yet his voice sounds almost ecstatic. “Have you eaten well? Drank water? Maybe some apple juice or orange juice will help?”

He prattles on about ways to make you feel better, or at least soothe the discomfort you're in, while immediately starting on chores. He doesn’t even take off his armor before he’s throwing clothes into a laundry basket. Even then, he doesn’t take long to come back to your side after throwing the clothes in the washer. He’s got a big, loveable smile on his face as he does so, resting the back of his hand on your forehead, then drifting to your cheek.

“Would you like me to draw a bath, dear? Would that help?” His voice is oh-so-gentle. You don’t have the heart to say no, even if you took one earlier. Regardless, you don’t even get to answer before he’s off once more. You cozy up in the bed for another minute as you listen to the sounds of water running in the other room, and Argenti’s muffled humming.

As much as you hated being sick, and how often you got sick, you can’t deny that Argenti’s enthusiasm helps you a little. At least mentally. The fact that he’s always been so ready to take care of you without a word of protest has been comforting. Even with all he’s been tasked with, he never seems more proud of his work than he does with you.

He comes back in all too happy, scooping you up in his arms without another word. It’s like clockwork for him, treating you like royalty in general. He does the same even if you aren’t sick, taking his time to take care of you and pamper you in any way possible, even in the domestic ways. He would do this even before dressing his wounds if he were to come back with any. Nothing stops him.

The bathroom smells of lavender, an opened bag of epsom salt on the counter. Argenti sets you on the counter with a humble smile. He leans over the bathtub, finally taking off one of his gauntlets and dipping his hand in the water to make sure it isn't too hot. He pulls his hand out and shakes off the water, before turning back to you, holding out his hand to help you off the counter.

He begins to take off your clothes, gently and reverently. There are no lingering touches, no traces of embarrassment as he does so. Once you are naked, he presses a kiss to your forehead and ushers you into the bath. You settle in nicely, the warm water a balm against your skin. Though you were sweaty and so damn hot, it felt infinitely better. You don't know what made this bath feel so much better than the one that you took, but you simply chalked it up to Argenti’s making.

You sink deeper into the bath, til the water is up to your chin. You close your eyes and take a deep breath, the steam helping to clear your nostrils. For once it feels like you can breathe, and lord, is it heavenly. Sure, the scratch in your throat is still there, but it doesn’t feel as significantly damning as it did before. You feel yourself relax, the fuzziness in your head lessening. You can’t help but let out a groan of satisfaction as you allow the water to wash away your woes, or what it could, at least.

It was so comfy that you could practically fall asleep in the bath, running your fingers over the texture of the bottom of the bath just to keep yourself awake as you fight your own consciousness.

“May I come in?” Argenti’s voice breaks you out of your drowsiness, and you catch a glimpse of his hair through a very small crack in the door. You give him a groggy ‘yes’, and he walks back in with a clean pair of clothes for you. He sets them on the counter, before kneeling down next to you in the tub. “I changed the sheets on the bed for you, and the blanket is in the dryer…”

“Mh, thank you,” You mutter, closing your eyes as he places his hand on the top of your head.

“Can I ask what you’ve been doing lately?” His voice holds concern, head tilting to the side.

“Not much,” You shake your head, opening your eyes and looking up at him. You notice now that he has finally shed his armor, wearing nothing but a simple black t-shirt (that fits his body too well), and some sweats. “Just working…”

“I’ve noticed you were working more hours than you’re usually scheduled recently,” He hums, leaning back and taking his hand away from your head. You can’t help but chase after it for a second, sitting back up in the tub. “Perhaps you are working too hard, my dear.”

It is a possibility. Not that you’d mention it. Yes, it’s been a stressful couple of weeks at work, and you swore you had gotten through with it. You did feel like you were working a lot more, but c’mon, you got sick from anything. It couldn’t have been stress, could it? Perhaps you just ran into someone who was sick while working one of your shifts…

Argenti chuckles at your reluctance to admit it, and shakes his head. “It’s alright. I assume it can stay a mystery,” He then stands up, leaning over you once more. “Come on. I don’t want you to prune up in there.”

You groan, yet reach out for his hands, standing up and out of the tub. You’ve never felt so much grief for leaving a bath, though the water was starting to cool down. And while your throat, head, and nose feel better, you can feel the sickness fighting back. You let out an ‘ugh’, unprompted, and Argenti gives you another concerned look, before grabbing a towel and drying you down. He’s a lot quicker this time, though doesn’t neglect to show you the same amount of love as he always has done. Once you are dry, he hastily dresses you, turns around to drain the tub, then picks you up once more.

You groan, yet reach out for his hands, standing up and out of the tub. You’ve never felt so much grief for leaving a bath, though the water was starting to cool down. And while your throat, head, and nose feel better, you can feel the sickness fighting back. You let out an ‘ugh’, unprompted, and Argenti gives you another concerned look, before grabbing a towel and drying you down. He’s a lot quicker this time, though doesn’t neglect to show you the same amount of love as he always has done. Once you are dry, he hastily dresses you, turns around to drain the tub, then picks you up once more.

The bed dips next to you as Argenti climbs in, shuffling closer to you. Then, even closer, throwing his arm around you and pressing a kiss to your forehead, then, after a pause, to your nose, your cheek, then your mouth.

“Stoopppp…” You grumble, pulling your head away weakly. “You’re gonna get siiick…”

“A sacrifice I’m willing to make,” Argenti jokes, placing his hand on the back of your head and tucking it into his chest.

You two stay like that for a while, his fingers fidgeting with your hair as you fall in and out of consciousness once more, languidly stretching an arm over him like he was your teddy bear. Then your leg, to get more comfortable. He stays trapped beneath you, simply watching as you finally end up falling asleep for the upteenth time today. He himself cannot find sleep, too enraptured by the sleeping beauty in his arms, though disheveled and snotty.

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