Cold siren s/o trying to sleep but can't cuz if the cold, so their equally siren bf (aventurine, ratio, sunday, Dan heng and jing yuan) warms them up
Can be cuddles, can be insistent nuzzles, guiding a eepy partner closer to a thermal vent, joining them in slumber after that X3c
-🦈
Warmth Was Never a Guarantee
Tags: Aventurine x Reader, Ratio x Reader, Sunday x Reader, Siren!Men x Siren!Reader, Fluff with Emotional Depth, Comfort & Cuddling, Hurt/Comfort, Protective, Emotional Vulnerability, Touch-Starved Reader, Found Family Vibes, Silent Affection, Unspoken Love, Late-Night Conversations, Gentle Physical Contact, Reader is a Cold Siren.
There’s a chill that clings to the deep-sea currents tonight, biting through even your scaled skin as you toss and shift on the coral-silk hammock. A sigh bubbles out from your lips, frustration fizzing through your muscles.
“Can’t sleep?” a velvet voice purrs from behind.
You nearly jump, only to feel a warm chest press against your spine. Aventurine’s arms coil around you, smug and deliberate, like he’d been waiting for you to squirm just enough.
“You could’ve said something, starlight,” he murmurs into the crook of your neck, his breath trailing heat along your nape. “I would’ve gladly charged you interest for warmth.”
“Don’t start.” You grumble, but lean into him anyway. He’s always warm, unnaturally so. You suspect he hoards heat just to make others need him.
“Mm, cold blooded and cold-hearted?” he teases, rubbing his thumb along your hip. “Let’s fix that.”
He gently guides you toward the under-reef vent, the geothermal current heating your shared space in slow, pulsing waves. You sigh again—this time with relief—as he nestles closer behind you, tails entangling like sea vines.
“You’re like a personal furnace,” you murmur.
“And you're my favorite gamble,” he whispers. “Always worth the risk.”
When he presses a kiss behind your ear and his hand finds yours beneath the blanket of kelp-fronds, you finally drift off—warm, steady, and maybe even lucky.
You try to suppress the shivers wracking your form, but the gentle clatter of your teeth betrays you.
Ratio doesn’t need a confession. The moment he hears the rhythmic stutter in your breathing, he places his data slate down with a precise sigh.
“Again?” he asks, voice low but not unkind.
“I’m fine,” you lie through blue lips.
“You are many things, my dear, but a liar is not one of them.” He’s beside you in an instant, his body heat a stark contrast to the abyssal chill of your shared quarters.
You grumble something unintelligible as he presses his forehead to yours, slowly coaxing you toward the thermal basin he’d customized after your last ‘incident.’ He’s already recalibrated the heat flow.
“I accounted for the drop in ambient temperature,” he murmurs, slipping an arm under your back and easing you in. “Though next time, I’d prefer earlier feedback.”
You blink up at him. “You mean concern?”
His eyes soften, his fingers brushing your cheek. “Scientific concern. And a... fondness I lack vocabulary for.”
You can’t help the chuckle that slips out as you settle against him in the basin, the warmth blooming around you like sunlight. He joins you after a moment, chest against yours, arms folded possessively.
“If warmth is what you need,” he whispers, “I’ll hypothesize all night.”
The sea is quiet—too quiet. The soft glittering hues of pastel light filter through the sleeping glade, but you feel no peace.
You curl tighter into your side of the nest, wishing for warmth that doesn’t come.
A whisper of feathers brushes your back.
Without a word, Sunday is there. His movements are gentle, reverent, as if he’s afraid you’ll vanish if he breathes too loud. He settles behind you slowly, hands brushing your trembling arms, golden eyes glowing faint in the dark.
“You’re cold,” he murmurs softly, not as a question, but as a truth.
You nod against the pillow of woven light.
“I used to think dreams were enough to keep someone warm,” he confesses, voice carrying the weight of old regrets. “But there’s no shame in needing more than hope.”
You don’t answer—not with words—but your fingers curl around his as he pulls you closer, wings softly blanketing your forms like a gentle snowfall. The warmth is slow, delicate, but soul-deep.
His arm drapes over both your shoulders now, and his halo flickers with soft comfort. He hums—not a song, but a quiet resonance—until you finally drift off, heart syncing with his in the silence.
A mix of Soulmate AU Tropes:
-Initials
-Marks
-Radio
Female Reader.
Female pregnancy.
Single Parenthood.
Plus size reader.
Death/Death like themes (The snap and blip)
Grief
Body Image Talk.
Self depreciation.
Inaccurate depiction of D.I.D.
Mentions of polyamory
General Angst
Self doubt
A bit of canon divergence.
This takes place *WAY* after Cairo.
Spoiler alert for:
“Captain America The First Avenger”
“Captain America and the Winter Soldier”
“Captain America Civil War”
“Avengers: Infinity War”
“Avengers: End Game”
“Falcon and the Winter Soldier”
And of course… “Moon Knight”
Possible Spoilers For: “Black Widow”
Relationships:
Single Mom!Reader Plus Size!Reader x Steven Grant, Single Mom!Reader Plus Size!Reader x Marc Spector, Single Mom!Reader Plus Size!Reader x Jake Lockley Mentioned relationships: James "Bucky" Buchanan Barnes x Reader Bucky x Reader
Summary:
"Soulmate AU with the Moonboys!
You are a curator for the Avengers Timeline for the Smithsonian they send you to London to work on the Avengers Exhibits there. While working in London, the last thing you expect in the world happens: You find your soulmates."
One Shots:
Ficlets:
Marc Spector:
Series:
One Shots:
The Labyrinth
- Major Canon Divergence
- Fem!Reader x Marc Spector
- Super Hero!Reader x Marc Spector
- Original Villain Character
- Angst with Comfort
- Canon typical violence
- Language
Summary:
"You and Moon Knight are on a job when you get separated. Will you make it back to him, or will the Game Master win? Will you figure your way out of the Labyrinth or be lost forever?"
The Anniversary
Warnings:
- Fem!Reader x Marc Spector
- Death
- Dying
- Grief
- Flashbacks
- Medical Terminology
- Papa used as a term for Father *not* Grandpa
- Angst
- Hurt/comfort
- Fluff
Summary:
"The anniversary of your Papa's death is today. You didn't think it was today. You weren't paying attention so it takes you by surprise. You start to grieve afresh, and Marc is there for you."
Ficlets:
Steven Grant:
Series:
One Shots:
Ficlets:
Autumning in Love
Warnings:
-Fem!Reader x Steven Grant
- Lots of playfulness
- Fluff
- Slight public sex, but it doesn't get that far.
- Mentions of Marc and Jake.
Summary:
"You and Steven enjoy a lovely fall day together in London, full of hot drinks, a cemetery tour, fun, games and most of all: Making love."
Jake Lockley:
Series:
One Shots:
Ficlets:
Silent Affection
Warnings:
- Enby!Reader x Jake Lockley
- Fluff
Summary:
"You and Jake just want some love and affection after a hard day at work."
Dividers by: @animatedglittergraphics-n-more
Please Reblog Divider by @cafekitsune
Wuwa men (u choose but Plz add as well characters who smort as well like jiyan, mortefi or xiangli 🙈🩵) who notice their s/o or spouse feels empty inside, not being themselves. so they convey that they'll be there for them in their own way. Either by silent but comforting cuddling, or blanket burrito and warm food or anything like that, (or humming a song? XD idk who this will fit for but good luck if u plan to add it 🤭
-💎
“No Words Needed—Just Us”
Tags: Jiyan x Reader, Xiangli x Reader, Mortefi x Reader, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Support, Established Relationship, Reader Feels Empty, Silent Affection, Wordless Comfort, Acts Of Service as Love Language, Domestic Intimacy, Found Family Vibes, Blanket Burrito Therapy, Warm Food And Warm Hearts, Unspoken Love, Comfort In The Mundane, Introspection.
Warnings: Themes Of Emptiness, Depression, Emotional Burnout, Mentions Of Emotional Numbness, Soft Angst With Comfort, Mental Health Themes, Reader Crying, Feeling Disconnected, Non-Verbal Comfort, No Explicit Trauma, No Self-Harm, Gentle But Heavy Emotional Themes.
A/N: I was too lazy to add the others, sorry 😔🙏
The night was quiet, too quiet for your liking.
Jiyan stood at the open balcony of your shared quarters in Jinzhou, teal hair swaying in the evening breeze. He had noticed the subtle changes in you long before you realized them yourself—how your smile didn’t quite reach your eyes anymore, how you lingered in silence even when surrounded by the warmth of your friends.
You sat curled on the futon, arms wrapped around your knees, staring blankly ahead. You didn’t have the strength to speak it aloud—the feeling of being hollow, like a lantern long extinguished.
Without a word, Jiyan turned away from the night and crossed the room.
He didn’t speak. He simply knelt behind you and gently draped a large, fur-lined blanket over your shoulders. His arms slid around you, steady and warm, his forehead resting against the back of your head.
There was strength in his silence. Steady breathing, the rise and fall of his chest against your back, grounding you.
And then, softly—barely audible—he began to hum.
It was an old lullaby. One his mother used to sing when patching up wounded Rangers. You’d never heard him hum before. The melody drifted like wind through bamboo, subtle and comforting.
“You don’t have to explain,” he murmured finally, voice deep and low. “You don’t have to fix yourself alone. I’m here… always.”
You felt his thumb brush across your wrist in a quiet, grounding circle. The emptiness inside didn’t vanish—but it shifted, softened, soothed by the weight of his presence.
You didn’t notice him enter the room at first.
You sat at his desk, staring blankly at the automaton schematic on his datapad. The lines and symbols meant nothing tonight. You felt like a ghost watching yourself live someone else’s life.
Xiangli stood in the doorway quietly, observing. Your usual spark—gone. The emptiness you tried to mask with smiles had finally unraveled.
Without a word, he set down a tray beside you: warm ginger soup, neatly cut bread, and a piece of your favorite fruit tart.
You blinked at it, and when you turned, he was wrapping a soft lab blanket around your shoulders. It smelled faintly of tea and metal and him.
“Everyone reaches their threshold,” he said gently, sitting beside you. His prosthetic hand rested lightly on your back, fingers adjusting the blanket just right. “Even Resonators… especially humans.”
You turned to look at him, eyes wet. “I feel like I’m... breaking apart.”
He reached into the drawer beside you, pulling out a small wind-up music box. “This was my father’s,” he said, winding it slowly. “It always helped when silence became too loud.”
A delicate melody played—mechanical, but beautiful. Xiangli leaned his head against yours, humming along. His hum was soft, imperfect, but filled with intention.
“I’ll help you find your balance again,” he whispered. “Even if it takes a lifetime.”
And in the soft rhythm of his voice, the gentle click of gears, you found a small, steady place to rest.
Mortefi hated messes. But tonight, he didn’t scold you for the way your clothes lay scattered, or the way your eyes stared lifelessly at your untouched breakfast.
Instead, he returned from the lab early.
You were surprised when the scent of cinnamon and fire-berry filled the air. Mortefi stood in the kitchen, sleeves rolled up, preparing your favorite dessert—an old recipe from the Federation. He’d once said it was “too sweet for his palette,” but you loved it.
“Sit,” he said simply, voice calm but firm, gesturing to the sofa. You obeyed without thinking.
He returned with a tray and a steaming cup of your favorite tea, the mug decorated with tiny metal dragons—handcrafted by him.
Without a word, he sat beside you and began brushing your hair gently with his fingers, fussing over its tangles. You tried to apologize for being a mess, but he cut you off.
“Do not insult my favorite person,” he muttered, his tone sharp but… warm. “You are allowed to feel lost. But don’t think I’ll let you drown in it.”
He bundled you into a thick, absurdly large blanket, practically turning you into a burrito. Then he pulled you against his side, one arm around you, the other still holding a tiny spoon.
You blinked. “You made... pudding?”
He looked away. “I altered the molecular ratio for smoother texture,” he said gruffly. “And added sugar... because apparently that helps.”
The quiet stretched between you.
Then, in a rare, almost bashful moment, he rested his head atop yours and whispered, “I don’t know how to fix this. But I’ll burn away whatever darkness comes for you, every time. You’re... worth that.”
Your fingers curled into the hem of his robe, and the fire within him was warm, not searing—just enough to remind you: you were not alone.
You were walking alone today, on your way to the bus stop
Headphones over your ears, lips moving as though you had something to say, only in a voice I'd never heard of before
A silent one, content to mouth along to the AJR song you were playing, grinning to yourself as you looked up at the sky
I looked too, to see what you were looking at, to see what had made you smile and found the moon high up in the sky, despite the fact that it was morning. And it was beautiful
You were beautiful
And I wish I could have found the strength to tell you that in the moment
That I could say these things to you aloud
But instead, my tired rambling scribbles in this notebook I've been lugging around will have to suffice
And I'll just have to hope you understand how much I mean it
