#because I really did enjoy them and felt like I had to make them an epic soulmate couple with heart wrenching scenes

[jensthwa]

a very show & tell christmas (SMG x reader).

part of the love's an uncharted path universe ★.

SUMMARY:

It's been a few months since you and Mingi got together. It's your first Christmas as a couple but not your first one together. As he watches you re-organize the tree in his living room, he can't help but reminisce on the key moments that made him realize you're his person.

PAIRING: mingi x afab reader.

GENRE: stablished relationship, holidays special!

WORD COUNT: 7k.

WARNINGS: SMUT ☽ (MINORS DNI), mingi's pov, a loooot of fluff and love talk, pet names (love, my love, babe), mistletoe kisses, heart felt gifts, messy kisses, mingi and reader briefly discuss something that i've come to learn is called sweater fetish but i don't know if the scene counts as that but just letting you know, oral sex (f receiving), reader asks mingi to 'use' her, hard but romantic sex, unprotected sex (booo, wrap it up please), marriage discussion at the end omg?

NOTES: happy holidays everyone! I've been wanting to write mingi's perspective of everything that went down in s&t for a while so I took the chance to write it for the holidays because what better time to reminisce about everything you've ever lived than december am I right? [nervous chuckle]. I hope you're having a wonderful month and i hope next year treats you even better! THIS IS PART OF THE LOVE'S AN UNCHARTED PATH SERIES BUT CAN BE READ AS A STAND ALONE. this is 100% self indulgent, as all fics should be, and i think i've re-read it so many times that if you find a typo or something that just doesn't make sense, you can blame it on english not being my first language i guess lmao. i hope you enjoy it and if you do feel free to send to my askbox/reblog/type in any feedback or thoughts! <3

POSTED: december 25th 2024.

Mingi remembers the first time he saw you like it was yesterday. It's an image so vivid, so impactful in his life that there's no way he could ever, ever forget. 

He was playing soccer on the street, with two friends who moved away that same year and he doesn't really remember them all that well now. He kicked the ball so hard it landed in your yard as you were doing something else. Playing with dirt? He doesn't really remember, you might've been but it didn't matter because it was also the first time he realized he could fall in love.

Granted, he didn't fall in love immediately. He was, after all, just a fourteen year old boy and he didn't understand those feelings just yet. It was that transitional period of a kid’s life where the desire to connect with someone else was strong but definitely not a priority. 

Besides, he didn't realize, until many years had gone by, that the first time that he saw you and he felt time stop, he also saw a life with you: the five seconds it took for the ball to roll over to your feet after almost punching you in the face and he sort of assumed you were going to be in his life forever. 

And you are going to be in his life forever. In one way or another, but he promised you that forever a while ago, in his head, in his dreams and in the way he cares about you, for you. In the way his heart hurts when you're not around, when you two fight. In the way his heart sings when he kisses you, the way it dances and beats against his chest when you smile at him, because of him, around him. 

And when he hears you laugh? Pfft. He melts at the sound. 

He's melting even now, after being officially together a little over a year, as you laugh with your mom and his mom while decorating the Christmas tree at his house. 

Well, not decorating it exactly. You three went shopping earlier today and somehow your mom convinced his mom that the old ornaments did not go with the living room aesthetic anymore and she bought new ones for them. 

The only ones that are old now, that the redecorating party is finishing with the tree, are the ones you and him have shared over the years. 

The one you got at fifteen, that resembles a snow globe with two snowmans inside of it, holding hands and with your names engraved in wood underneath it. The one he got at seventeen that's a little simpler but you say it's your favorite: two gingerbread cookies holding a heart sign with your initials in it, one of the cookies kissing the other’s cheek. 

You two have been alternating years of getting each other ornaments and deciding which house they're staying at. This year, however, you went for a different approach to the tradition. Each of you painted an ornament, a traditional one, with something festive that alludes to one another. 

He, seeing that you've been talking snoopy for half a year, tried his best to paint the character on top of his dog house, decorated by Christmas lights and with a red ribbon to tie it to the tree that illuminates your living room up the street. 

Now, he watches carefully as you hang near the other ornaments, the one you hand painted to look like a chicken. Initially, you tried to convince him it was a penguin but it can't possibly be. It's more yellow than black or white and even if you tried to tell him it's a specific type of penguin you saw in happy feet there's nothing that indicates that it's not a chicken.

“Oh, well, it fits him.” His mother says at your explanation, hugging your mother tightly as she fondly watches you hang the ornament up. You turn around when you finish, tongue out at him childishly. 

He pretends to be annoyed, rolling his eyes and getting up to playfully tug at the tongue you're sticking out to him still “Mom, you're supposed to be on my side.” 

“I am!” She defends herself, smiling like she's totally not on his side. “It does look a little bit like you, dear. Even your little mole here.” 

You take the opportunity to press on your tippy toes and kiss the mole his mom is pointing out, only to get more aws from them. 

“I win.” You whisper to him, proud of yourself and he can't help but smile at you as you pull away. 

Mingi remembers the first time he realized he was in love with you. It was the first time he called you by his favorite endearment: love. 

He remembers the ice cream shop you both were at, he remembers the conversation being more of a confession that you had a crush on a friend of his, he remembers the guy serving the ice cream complaining about the fridge hardly working and he remembers the blush on your cheeks as you admitted to want to be called love because…

“That's what good boyfriend's do,” you said, ice cream on your fingers that you quickly wipe away with an already sticky napkin, “So we're going to get together and I'm going to be called love from that moment on.” 

He knew you were talking about his friend but his heart skipped a beat anyway. He had to focus on what you were telling him, not on the pretty smile you gave him or the relief he felt when he realized the one thing that would lead you straight (or not so straight) to disappointment. 

His friend was a very proud but not that  out gay man. 

But Mingi decided to not mess with it, he always let you fight your battles alone if those battles ended up with you learning a lesson and without a scratch, anyway. 

“Good luck with that, love.” 

“Ugh, no, you don't get to call me that!” 

The nickname stuck either way. Even if, at the time, he pushed those feelings down deep inside of him. 

Because you were his love, but you were also his best friend ever and he was just a dude. A boy, even. 

He didn't know better and so, eventually, you got a boyfriend. Great dude, worshipped you like you deserved and all.

Mingi remembers the way he felt when you told him you loved Han. He hated the guy, hated the way he made you smile, hated the fact that he trusted him of all people because, well, there was and there will never be someone who loves you more than Mingi. 

Han thought he was the one, you didn't. But even after breaking up with Han, Mingi stood still. He understood his feelings, his protectiveness over you, as something platonic. But he didn't really have time to think about it with your head on his chest, on his bed, over the sheets and with the door wide open because it was a school night after all. 

School night meant no sleepovers, but his mom didn't ask you to leave when she saw you with tears in your eyes at their front door. Mingi didn't ask you to leave as you soaked his sweatshirt with said tears, either. 

“I don't know why I did it, Mingi. I don't… He did nothing wrong.” 

“You said you felt he was not the one.” 

Your regretful eyes looked up at him “But what if he was?” 

“He's not,” he whispered back to you and, at the time, he didn't know why. He had no reason to tell you Han wasn't the one for you, but his subconscious knew things he didn't accept back then. “You wouldn't be doubting it at all if he was, love.” 

You ended up sleeping over that night, door wide open still, your mom texting him when she couldn't reach you on the phone. 

He helped you through that breakup, just like you helped him with his first breakup as well. 

He helped you mend your own wounds, he saw you grow stronger after the pain went away, he felt proud of you when you started showing up to your first uni parties without him having to convince you to go. 

Mingi remembers the first time he realized he wanted to kiss you. You two were laying under the stars, a little hazy and on a rooftop you definitely shouldn't be up in. 

That probably wasn't the actual first time he wanted to kiss you, just the first time he admitted it to himself. Your friends were on the rooftop as well, dancing around, yelling, being silly, just as drunk as you two were or worse but, for a moment, it was quiet. Now that he thinks back to it, he probably imagined it. 

The noise quieting down, that is. 

Mingi remembers that he had turned to you to ask what you thought was going on but your eyes were closed. He remembers the breath he took in as he traced the side of your face with his eyes, carefully, like the staring alone would get you out of whatever peace you were enjoying at the moment.

Have your lips always been so perfect and inviting? He answered himself immediately: Yes, of course they are perfect, she's perfect. 

He doesn't really know how he didn't realize it right then and there. When his heart soared at the thought of it, of disturbing your peace only to kiss you. 

And then the noise came back, laughing and screeching and something alarming came out of Jongho’s mouth. 

“Shit, shit. Security!”

You opened our eyes and found him already staring at you. He should've felt embarrassed to be caught, but you smiled at him before rushing to your feet, offering your hand and shaking it for him to take it. 

“Can you get up or should I stay and be escorted out with you?” 

No one got caught that night except, maybe, his heart. 

Because he realized he loved you around a week after that, as he saw you do the most mundane task ever: washing your teeth in front of your bathroom sink, still trying to rant about something that pissed you off in one of your classes. He remembers pressing his shoulder against the doorframe and looking at your and your frown through the mirror. He also remembers the frantic beat of his heart as he realized he wanted to do just this with you every day of his life. 

Going to bed together, waking up next to you and listening to you rant about things you're going to forget the next day. He never wanted that with anyone else, only you. 

You, you, you. He got so lovesick the next year after that he tried desperately to cover it up. With different activities, with people kissing his neck at parties after dancing for a while, with anything and everything that could distract him from the fact that he was utterly and irrevocably in love with you. 

Not because he didn't want to explore but because every single time he tried to say something, the words would die down under the weight of years of friendship and loyal companionship. 

He couldn't lose you, he didn't even know how to make sure you liked him back! 

And so the yearning got unbearable enough for everyone in your friend group to notice it, except for, well, you. 

“At some point you have to tell her about it, right?” 

No one in the group presses on things. Woo and Gyuri (Woo’s ex girlfriend who, somehow, is still his friend and everyone's friend as well) maybe, but when it comes to matters of the heart, they let everyone be. So it surprised him when Seonghwa, of all people, spoke on it. 

“You can't keep looking at her like that from a distance and waiting for it to pass, Mingi. It's not going to pass.” 

He remembers sighing and then giving you one more glance before turning to his friend.

“She probably doesn't feel the same.” 

“Who cares? You're never going to find out keeping it to yourself.” Seonghwa gave him a tiny smile before bumping his shoulder against his, both teasingly and reassuring. “Besides, she loves you too much to allow some romantic feelings to get in the way. Just… Think about it, yeah? Not forcing you here,” he shrugged, “but we all do, kind of, maybe, want you two to kiss.” 

Snorting a laugh, Mingi remembers shaking his head no and then thinking about it for, at least, three months after that before actually making a move. 

He remembers feeling humiliated by one of his attempts to put his feelings for you to rest, he remembers confiding in you and your friends, he remembers when you agreed to tell him how to make it right the next time he slept with anyone else. He doesn't really remember asking you to show him. 

His mind disconnected after he saw the blush painting your cheeks beautifully, his heart took over him when he kneeled in front of you to kiss you that first time, when he allowed himself to give in and touch you like he had wanted to for so long. 

And then the days and the months blended so gracefully after that summer that he doesn't really recall when the weather started getting cold, just that the color of the snow contrasts against your winter coat when you both go outside after having Christmas dinner at his house, with both your parents and his present. 

They were friends before, but now? They see each other more than you two. 

Well, that's a lie, but almost. And, like all best friends do when spending the holidays together, they get lost in good conversation and company, in a bubble made out of wine and laughter, cozy enough that it allows you and Mingi to slip out of his house hand in hand easily. 

You have a little smile as you look around the street like you don't know the houses you pass on the way to yours. He wants to indulge you, but the words slip out his mouth without even thinking about it. 

“Am I walking you home because you wanted to change into something more comfortable or because you want to give me an additional Christmas gift, love?” 

“Stop ruining it! You know I'm not good at hiding things,” you click your tongue, pretending to be disappointed and kick the snow with your boot when you stop and pull him close, “We haven't got alone time in forever.” 

“Two days,” he says with a nod, arms going around you and head going down to kiss your lips tenderly for a quick second, “Three, if we count today.” 

You pout “That's like… A lifetime.” 

“I know,” he gives in, chuckling against your lips, “I'm going through withdrawal symptoms and all.” 

He watches as you close your eyes and lean in. He gets ready for it, inhaling cold air that hits his lungs as a reminder where you two are, what he's allowed to enjoy in public, and closes his eyes as he waits for your kiss that never comes. 

Instead, your nose nuzzles his softly, barely nudging the skin and you take a step back, taking his gloved hand and intertwining it with yours “I also may or may not have a gift for you.” 

Smiling in victory, Mingi fakes an annoyed gasp “I knew it.” 

“Yeah, yeah, you're so smart,” you scoff, rolling your eyes and entering your front yard without letting go of him. “Hurry, I'm freezing!” 

“This was your idea, love.” He deadpans but hurries anyways and afterwards, as the warmth of the foyer allows him to shrug off his coat and leave it in its designated spot by the door, he laughs at your clear enthusiasm. 

You're already shoeless, coatless, gloveless and scarfless and waiting at the third step of the stairs, impatiently blinking at him as a signal to hurry up, again. And when goes upstairs with you, you make him promise to keep his eyes closed as he walks towards your room. 

“You're too tall, I can't cover them with my hands so promise, Song Mingi.” 

“My eyes are literally closed!” 

He hears a door open. It has that creaking sound the door to your room has and when the smell of your perfume hits him as you press your hands to his chest to stop him, he doesn't have to open his eyes to know where he is. He knows his way around these halls anyway. 

You turn him, so that his back is probably facing your room, and then instruct: 

“Look up and open your eyes.” 

Mistletoe. That's what he sees when he opens his eyes: mistletoe that is badly tape to your door frame, just above him. It makes him smile and then the best friend in him takes over when he looks down at you and your blushed cheeks. 

“Love… That's so chees—” 

“Just kiss me, you idiot.” 

And he does. He lifts you up from the floor and you bury your fingers in his hair before securing your legs around his waist and he walks the room he knows like the back of his hand until he reaches the bed. He doesn't sit down or puts you down yet, lazily opening your mouth with his tongue when you sigh against him. 

“Wait— Mm,” you speak against his mouth, words silenced by his eager tongue a second later. He has to physically throw his head back to stop himself from kissing you further, but when his eyes return to his face, his will almost falters. “That was not the gift.” 

“Okay.” He breathes out, smiling. 

“Sit on the floor.”

He does and the carpet is soft under his fidgeting hands as he watches you move around the room. You go into your closet (literally, you disappear behind the closed doors) and when you come back with a large box he blinks a few times in astonishment.

Huge box, really. It almost doesn't fit the space between you when you sit down in front of him and glance at him excitedly, a shy color to your voice when you speak again “Open it!” 

There's no way he can help the smile that curves his lips when he opens the box and finds an assortment of handmade things. Yes, the ornament that you made may have looked like something else entirely, but he starts to believe you made it on purpose when he pulls out the first gift: a bouquet made out of candy, his favorite sweets. 

“This is beautiful, love…” 

He lets out a chuckle when you steal one immediately and he promises to dig into it once he goes through all the gifts. 

There's a box with a card underneath that he goes to pick up but you stop him with a trembling hand “Save that one for last.” And he notices you're a little bit nervous, so he does, his own heart skipping at what might've inside the box, a similar yet smaller one weighing on the pocket of the coat he left downstairs. 

The other things left on the box are a few bills in the shape of hearts and a wooden sphere that he finds out, seconds later, it's a picture museum. 

“I couldn't fit every important picture we took together in a regular shaped box so I had to get this one.” You explain as he looks at the inside of the sphere. It looks like a miniature museum and Mingi feels like crying a little, so he takes your hand in his and gives it a kiss to ground himself “They're in chronological order, too, I had to consult the ancient texts to get them all right!” 

He laughs, confused “The ancient texts?” 

“Yes, my Instagram story archive.” You return, nodding and he gives your hand another kiss before letting it go to set down the museum next to the bills and the bouquet.

You let out a shaky breath when he returns his attention to the box and picks it up. You pick up the card. 

“Before you open it, let me read this to you.” 

“Of course,” he returns softly and takes the trembling hand you're extending in his direction. 

“First of all, look at how cute this is,” you turn the card and inside of it, it's decorated with kisses. Your kisses. Mingi would recognize them anywhere and he tries to take the card from you but you bat his hand away with it. “Later, let me read this to you. Um… 

“Dear Mingi,” he giggles at the formality of your tone and then forces himself to stop at the look you give him. “Dear Mingi,” you start again, “I don't have a way with words and I've re-written this letter a thousand times but I think I have come to terms with the fact that there are no words invented, no language discovered, that can accurately immortalize my feelings for you. The love I hold for you transcends everything and everyone, every concept ever created and every new idea future generations come up with. And, as I try to come up with a joke that can give this overdone confession any lightness, I have also come to terms with the fact that you're it for me. I already knew this, of course,” you laugh and he has to laugh a little, heartbeat on his throat and eyes full of tears and all, “I already knew how much I loved you. Platonically, romantically, it all has just blended into one because it doesn't really matter how I loved you, it just matters that I have the opportunity to do so, my love. I love you.” 

When your eyes catch his, the tears are already wetting his cheeks. 

“And now what didn't fit in the letter, because I chose this tiny ass card,” you laugh again, eyes already wet even though he can see you're telling yourself not to cry. “Our first Christmas together was the time I realized I wanted you in my life forever. It just felt right, like we belonged somehow and we do, Mingi. So I— Open the box.” You quickly say and when he does, the whole thing falls apart. 

Kind of. 

When he pulls the rope tied in a bow at the top and the sides fall he makes a noise of surprise that makes you laugh.

The sides have more pictures of you two and in the middle of the box there's another tiny box that he opens to find a necklace. 

With a ring that could fit him as its charm and a silver chain that's not too delicate but not too rough, just like the one he uses on a daily basis. 

The ring has your initials engraved on the inside and his initials engraved on the outside. He lets out a sob that prompts your tears to flow freely down your face and he catches you wiping them.

“I didn't want to give you this with the rest of your gifts this morning because, well, I'm shy and—” 

“You are not shy.” He speaks over you, wiping his tears. 

“And I didn't want our parents to scream marriage at us. I don't want to scream marriage at you either, my love,” you say before he gets any ideas. And it did cross his mind a second ago, but he's far from terrified of it. “But I wanted you to have something to remember me by, with our initials in it, as a token of how much I love you, Mingi.” 

He doesn't even know what to say. 

“A lot. I love you a lot, if you couldn't tell.” You add and he laughs and manages to scoot around the box of gifts to wrap his arms around your frame. You laugh into the skin of his neck, hugging him back. 

“I love you too,” he whispers, his lips close to your ear and his heart beating fast still. When he pulls back, you try to give him a kiss and he stops you, which prompts a confused look on your side. “You know that they say that overtime couples start to think alike?” 

“Look alike,” you correct with a tilt of your head and he gives you a look, so you backtrack, smiling. “No, yeah, couples start to think alike.” You nod and then let out a noise in protest of him getting up. 

He points his finger at you “Wait here.” 

And then he bolts downstairs, to his coat. 

It really does say something about you two, about the way your minds sync up at most needed time. Because as he enters your room, box in hand and knees hitting the carpet in front of you, he can tell you got his point immediately. 

“I'm not screaming marriage at you yet, love and I also didn't get you a letter or a chain to go with it, but—” He hands you the box and lets you open it, head immediately trying to paint into his memory the way you gasp at the ring, the way you take it delicately into your hands and examine it with care. “But I bought this months ago, in that antique shop you like so much because it reminded me of you and how could it not? Do you see how beautiful it is?”

It sparkles under your bedroom light, but he can see it from a distance: all the delicate details that make it look like there's two hands holding the pearl in the middle. In a way, it looks like two hands holding a heart. 

Just like you hold his heart. 

“As a token of your much I love you, Y/N.” 

You pout as he takes the ring and puts it on your finger. 

“You can't just steal my speech, Song Min—” 

He kisses you again. He can't not kiss you, he can't help but get you into your arms and thank you for choosing the ground to present your gift because he's anything but careful as he stands up, drags you with him, and sits on the bed with you on top of him. 

“Shit, hold on—” 

“Hm?” There's concern in the way your eyebrows crease and Mingi gets briefly distracted by how kissed out and breathless you look for a second before reaching for the floor. 

“My necklace,” he explains, reaching for the box and successfully getting it in his hand without having to take you off his lap. “Put it on for me, love?” 

“So you liked it?” You ask nonchalantly as you take the necklace, legs opening a bit more so that you're sitting further into his lap.

“You literally made me cry, Y/N. Tears,” he says, making a face that you catch before closing the clasp behind his neck. 

“Of joy?” You return in a whisper, eyes so sweet and smile so shy it makes him want to cry all over again. 

“I love you.” He says instead of answering the question, lips touching yours again, softly, wanting, forgetting you don't have a lot of time before your parents wonder where you went. 

There's no way careful thoughts can get through the fog your sighs against him create, in the way your teeth sink into the plush of his bottom lip and pull until he's moaning, the sting of pain passing by as your tongue caresses his. 

You've been getting a little bold lately, the nature of your encounters is always passionate but, somewhat, normal. Mingi loves every second you decide to give yourself to him but he also fucking loves when you do shit you like. 

Like taking control of the kiss, pulling his hair so his head can fall back and you can slowly make it messier, sloppier, even after the sweet moment you two just shared. 

Hands start to roam freely and, by the time you pull on his hair to detach your mouth from his fully, he's already breathless and hard against the fabric of his pants, mouth wet with shared spit. 

He's sure his pupils are blown, he's sure he's red on the face and fucked out already. He knows his expression mirrors yours as you take him, and the necklace, in, eyes scanning his frame before you roll your hips against him. 

He moans pathetically. 

You smile at the sound. 

“Like anything you see?” He tries to tease you to no avail. 

“You look so hot like this…” The hand tangled in his hair moves and he closes his eyes to welcome the feeling of your nails softly digging into his skin as they make their way into his neck, over the necklace and the ring resting against his collarbone. 

“With the necklace on?” 

“And the sweater.” 

He glances at his beige sweater with an arched brown and then he looks at your sweater, a warmer tone of beige than his, the neck a little high but not high enough to be considered a turtle neck, with the same expression. 

He puts the pieces together and then scoffs out an impressed laugh. 

“Where did you learn this kink, love?” 

“It's not a kink,” you defend yourself immediately, laughing when he looks at you like he doesn't believe it and then he leans in again, peppering your jaw with slow, open mouth kisses, “I just saw a video the other day and…” 

“And?” He encourages you with a shift of his hips of his own, gaining a curse that slips past your lips. 

“And then I saw you today in this.” The palm of your hand slips from his neck and into the fabric of the sweater, thumb passing over his nipple with purpose. He hisses in response. “So… We could leave it on, hm? What do you think?” 

He raises an eyebrow, trying to bite his smile back “What did they do in the video, love?”

“Oh,” you giggle into his shoulder as he kisses every inch of skin available to him, “it was a homemade video. I don’t watch anything super produced, you know that. They, uhm… Fuck, babe,” he licks his way up the side of your neck, successfully making you melt against him. “She was looking at her phone and he was eating her out,” you manage to get out. “And then she got on her stomach, legs straight a-and closed while he fucked her. Used her, kinda.” He pulls back at that, both intrigued and wanting to see if that’s what you actually want. 

“Used her to get off?” 

You nod and he leans in, nose brushing yours. 

“Is that what you want me to do with you?” 

“After you get me off,” you whisper back, smiling without any shame at your request “yeah.”

Mingi takes his time to think about it. On purpose, letting the tension linger as he presses both palms against the mattress, leaning back just enough so you can catch him checking you out unapologetically. Truth being told, his dick is twitching in his pants at the thought of helping you explore. This has always been your dynamic in bed: exploring, searching, discovering new things that make you wet, researching new ways of making you come and there’s nothing that gets him off more than the idea of you getting away with what you want. 

Even if that means sweating the fabric of this expensive sweater through. It’s okay, he has a washing machine. The way you wait for an answer, with eyes so bright and expectant, makes him bite his lip in return. 

Yeah, there’s nothing he enjoys more than pleasing you. 

He also knows you enjoy this. 

The anticipation. The teasing, the way his hand returns to your legs and slides the material of the sweater up slightly, only to neglect the idea a second after and, instead, turning his hand and letting his knuckles brush against the fabric of it deliberately, with laced intention into the touch even though his expression remains pensive at the proposal. 

A proposal he accepted, like, the second after you said it outloud. 

“Do you know how much I love your tits, love?” 

You let out a sigh as your answer and one look at you is enough to encourage him to keep going. Knuckles brushing upwards, he catches your firm nipple through the fabric. It's a little hard to do; considering you're probably wearing two layers underneath to shield you from the December cold; but he manages and you let out a needy whine. 

“Do you know how much I love you if I’m going to fuck you without taking one look at them?” 

Damn. He doesn’t really mean for his voice to sound so raspy but it does and the way your lips curve in mischief let’s him know that you catch it for what it really means: He’s so lost in it, in the sensual bickering, that he can’t help but show how affected he is, one way or another. 

And then there’s the urgency of getting on with it because you don’t know how much time you get alone, until someone calls your phone and asks for you or until your parents get tired of the wine and come back home. 

So it really does happen in a flash when you grab the collar of his sweater and smash his lips against yours with need, with a newfound spark that excites him. He practically rushes to take your bottoms off, to slide down until they pool at his ankles, to turn on the bed until you’re laying on your back and his mouth is marking your inner thighs, adding new color to the bruises already lingering there. 

You’re twitching under his touch and he has to press your hips down to keep you still when he takes your panties off and dives into your folds. Usually, he would be prepping you to make a mess. You teached him how to make you squirt months ago, the day before you officially got together and he has had the pleasure of making you see stars since then. 

Today, there’s not enough time. 

So he wastes no time in devouring you like he knows you like it. Your leg thrown over his shoulder, the sweater and the shirt underneath rising just enough for him to thrust his hips against the bed at the image of your skin. 

You try to keep it down, he sees you trying to contain yourself and under any other circumstances, he would scold you for depriving him of the sounds you make. But this time around, the view edges him. He wonders briefly what other scenarios he can propose to have you gulping down your moans, to make you gasp for air after pressing the palm of your own hand over your mouth so no more whines slip out of your lips.

He doubles his efforts, just to see you trying to contain yourself and failing to do so, again. It makes you double your efforts as well, probably just to spite him as you thrust your hips and chase your high, but it doesn't bother him. 

If anything, it makes him harder than ever. The way you ride his face, the tongue that flattens out and then curves around your clit and your conviction falters, hips falling still at the way he sucks into your sensitive nub. Your hand in his hair pulls a little and the sting of pain almost makes him come untouched. 

Chuckling into your heat, Mingi catches the exact moment your eyes roll to the back of your head. He feels your limbs locking, he tastes your release when your orgasm hits you, he helps you ride out the sensation while pleased moans fill the room. 

And, usually, he would kiss his way up to your lips. He could right now too, over the sweater, the idea of the fuzzy material mixing with your orgasm it's tempting but he remembers you have to see people after this as well. 

He remembers he doesn't have much time. 

And your words are ringing on the back of his head when his mouth latches onto yours again, when you moan after tasting yourself on his tongue. 

He pulls away to silently ask the question: Do you want to keep going? 

You nod, nose nuzzling his briefly before he turns you around. Harshly, like he knows you like it. He sees you grasp the comforter and a pillow between your fingers when he sinks himself into your wet heat, he hears the muffled cry when he adjusts a little and when you close your legs to lie flatly on the bed and in-between his, he all but sees stars at the feeling. 

You're not tight. That's good, that's a sign that you're comfortable with him, trusting of him, a sign that you want you. This position makes it a snug fit, though, and when you purposefully squeeze around him he presses on his hands on your lower back with a groan.

“S-stop stalling, baby, we're running out of ti— Fuck, Mingi!” 

Pulling out and then slamming his hips back down with measured force, he marvels in the feeling of you genuinely squeezing around him, out of pleasure and not to tease him. 

“Is this what you wanted?” He asks, forehead connecting with the soft material of the sweater when he leans over you, on your shoulder and smiles when you moan at the way he picks up the pace. 

“Yes, yes, yes, f-fuck,” you mumble in response, head turning and breath fawning on his cheek that you attempt to kiss a second later, so he complies and turns his head to kiss you sweetly, a complete contrast of the way he's thrusting into you.

He falters when he notices just how hard he is going but your hand shoots back, attempts to grab his hip and your head shakes in disapproval. 

“Don't stop,” you ask, breathless, eyes scanning his face to see if he's not into this but he assumes you don't find that because he is into it, “use me, my love. That's what I want.” 

You don’t have to repeat yourself. He leans back up, hands finding a secure spot on your hips and uses you like you asked. He’s hardly the one to seek his own relief so soon. He likes to take his time with you, even when you don’t have much, and that means making you come undone at least twice before he even allows his dick to be touched, but now? 

With how turned on he is? With how full of love he is for you? 

He remembers the time, the years he didn’t allow himself to see you in nothing but platonic light. He remembers the feeling of your lips on his for the first time, he remembers the love you professed to him today and the way you make him feel so wanted, so adored, so—

“Oh— fuck.” 

His pace falters, his orgasm so close he’s unable to keep chasing for it with the same measured force he was using before. 

“Yes, Mingi,” you encourage, somehow managing to move your body upwards, meeting his own, “don’t stop, baby, please, I want to feel you inside of me.” 

He vaguely registers himself moaning, babbling nonsense as his movements pick back up. He hears your voice distantly, like he’s underwater, like the way you tell him to come inside of him and that you love him it’s what’s pulling him back up. 

And when he releases inside of you, his ears ring slightly and his forehead meets your back, eyes closed and chest heaving. He feels his heartbeat on his throat, he feels your heartbeat on your back and its rhythm matches his beautifully. 

No one says anything for a few minutes where you both try and recover from the intensity of what you just did. Something new, something that leaves you both exhausted and he can see it on your sleepy and content smile when he pulls out and you turn around, not giving a fuck that you’re bedding is probably going to get sticky with his cum. 

He throws himself besides you and your nose touches his cheek immediately. 

“That was…” 

“So good,” you say and he hugs you close, breath still ragged, “and we should definitely look into sweater fetish or whatever it’s called. I think you enjoyed it more than me.” 

He gasps in feign offense. 

“Stop projecting, love.” 

“Am not—”

“Yes, you are,” he sing-songs back and you weakly hit his arm with your fist. You don’t say anything afterwards and Mingi stops staring at the stars in your ceiling to look at you. 

You’re staring at your ring. He smiles, all the emotions that your words brought to him coming right back. 

“I want to marry you, Y/N.” 

He says it without really thinking it through. He doesn’t regret it even when you look up at him with a little panic behind your eyes. 

“Now?” 

He laughs “Someday,” shrugging, his lips connect with your hairline and you sigh, snuggling up to him a bit more “There’s going to be two more rings that I’m going to give to you and only you.” 

“Good thing you got my ring size right.” 

Your joke makes him laugh and you lean up against his chest a bit to look at him. 

“I’m going to say yes, Mingi,” you whisper and he melts against the pillow, his hand on your cheek a second later. He sees your eyes go down to the ring on his necklace and the smile that brings to your lips makes his heart pick up again.  “And then I’m going to show off my ring to everyone and I’m going to be insufferable as a wife. I hope you’re ready.” 

You fall back down on his chest, cheek just above the beating of his heart and eyes closed. The smile lingers on your lips and, as he brushes your hair back with his hand and smooths his hand under your sweater, he can’t help but smile back.

“I don’t want it any other way, love.” 

If you read all the way down here: THANK YOU SO MUCH and happy holidays! Any feedback would be greatly appreciated!

© jensthwa, 2024.

[retiredteabag]

learning together - Christmas Special

parental Gojo attempts to get Megumi in a Christmassy mood, it appears to be more of a challenge than he thought.

pt. 1

〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰

Ice crystalized the window of Satoru's Tokyo apartment, A thick dusting of snow laid atop the city below, and the house smelled distinctly of mulling spices and his favorite "sugar cookie" candle. But the teenage boy had a deep sense of dread when he remembered that he had no idea what his little pupil wanted for Christmas.

Typically, Satoru did not live with Tsumiki or Megumi; he paid for them to have their own place closer to their school. But with the end of the year came winter break, and a wide gap of time for the children to be home alone. That, and as he so often found himself saying these days,

"It's Christmas!!!!"

Tsumiki would giggle, and Megumi would roll his eyes. This phase had propagated into Satoru's vocabulary ever since the children's last day of class when Megumi had asked on the road out of school,

"Why do we have to go to your place? Can't we just stay at home?"

Tsumiki had glared harshly at the boy and nudged him to be quiet. But Megumi just furrowed his brows and softly whispered, "What?"

Satoru leaned back in the passenger seat of his car, an assistant had accompanied them because 1) Gojo doesn't like to drive, and 2) he wanted someone else to unpack all of the kid's stuff so they could spend that time settling in.

As it would later turn out, Megumi was closely attached to his backpack and refused to let anyone else touch it. Odd kid, that one.

Gojo had grinned then, "Becaauuuse" He began in a whining tone, "It's Christmas! You can't be all alone for the holidays!"

The little boy turned to look out the window, fog had accumulated so he could not view of the passing busy street, he avoided Gojo's covered gaze and squeezed his bag handle. "'M not alone. I've got Tsumiki." He mumbled, resting the crown of his head on the door.

Since then, every time Megumi made some negative comment, be it about: Satoru's overindulgence at cafes, the excessive decorating, or even his hyper attitude, Satoru would reply,

"Megumi, it's the Christmas season, be a little more jolly!"

But it seemed more evident as the days went by that Megumi did not have a jolly bone in his body. That, accompanied by his inability to come up with his wish list for Santa, Satoru was discouraged.

"Santa isn't real, Gojo." The boy would huff, rolling his eyes.

"How do you know that?" Gojo would pout, pointing out that at least his big sister humored him with the Santa stuff.

The boy would just pull his, 'are you really being serious right now' face and attempt to extricate himself from the conversation.

One day, after much time purchasing Sanrio toys, art supplies, lip glosses, new shoes, an adorable tea set, a bundle of DS games, and virtually any other gift he could imagine for Tsumiki, and stowing them away in one of his many walk-in closets, he called the young girl into the kitchen.

Megumi was reading in on of Gojo's guest rooms, avoiding everyone.

"Every time I ask him what he wants he just gets all grumpy and tells me not to get him anything..." Satoru confessed after thanking the girl for her willingness to make a list to Santa that included: A cute plushy or maybe new colored pencils?

Santa would pull through on her requests, of course, but Megumi hardly even said anything about food he enjoyed, let alone anything "unnecessary". Every time Satoru found something the boy might like, he got the image of an upset or disappointed Megumi and felt his stomach drop. The kid was hard to shop for, to say the least.

"He won't complain about anything! I promise, Gojo, he just... doesn't...like asking for things." Tsumiki smiled at her benefactor, so mature. From an outsider's perspective, it would seem as though a little girl was consoling a very oversized child who just fell on the playground and scraped his knee.

"But...Why?" Satoru groaned, looking to the girl for some idea of how to make the boy smile. It was Christmas for goodness sake. "I don't want him to 'not complain' I want him to get him something exciting, something he really wants."

Tsumiki twisted her mouth and twiddled her thumbs, "I think...hmm", she cut herself off, rethinking what she meant to say, "I think he already feels so indebted to you, you know? I think it would just upset him to ask for a present."

Satoru opened his mouth, only to close it a few times. He had no words. Why would a child, a boy who has practically just learned to read, feel as if he owes him something?

It was this event that caused Gojo to switch his mindset. If the boy refused to ask for something verbally, Satoru would use his innate talent of observation to deduce for himself what the boy wanted. He would unearth every little wish inside that emotionally constipated boy's heart.

A day later, Satoru found the kids on the floor in the living room, drawing together by the fireplace. Under closer inspection, it was clear why Tsumiki wanted new colored pencils. The ones she had been using in school were practically nubs, she had to hold them at an odd angle to be able to draw properly.

"Watcha dooooin'?" Satoru strolled into the living room, carrying bags of sweets and tissue paper.

"Drawing!" Tsumiki sang back. Her brother huffed and caged his arms around his sheet of paper. Trying to hide his drawing, he put his head down and scribbled some more.

"Ooooo! That's fun!" Satoru called out, tiptoeing to the master bedroom, "Don't let me bother you, I've got some top-secret Santa business to get up to-" Satoru spun around, turning this way and that in a comical show of 'spying', "You kids better stay out of my room!" He squinted at them, "It's never good to be nosy around Christmas!"

Tsumiki laughed and nodded at Gojo but Megumi made a face that showed clearly what a fool he thought the man was. What he didn't know, is that Satoru had real good eyes, and for the first time all week, he had an idea of how to get the boy in the Christmas spirit.

--

The image of Megumi's green crayon scrawled across a sketched pine tree stuck out in Satorus mind as he zipped up Tsumiki's coat. "C'mon Megs! The trees aren't gonna pick themselves!"

Megumi hurriedly called, "I'm coming! Just-ugh- gimmie one second!" as he fumbled with his shoe laces.

"Hey buddy, no rush, I can help." Satoru knelt down on the floor, still a head taller than the boy, he bent and tightened the laces.

The boy's eyes twitched, he had stumbled and clung to Gojo's shoulder for a moment before embarrassment flooded him and he huffed.

Satoru stood, patted the boy's head, and ushered them out the door.

On the eve of the big day, and for the first time, it was clear, Megumi was as excited as Tsumiki, though he tried to hide it, his spine was straight, he was wide awake, his hands tapped his lap unknowingly, and he kept puffing air in his cheeks, he could hardly wait to get to Christmas tree farm.

The boy was brimming with anticipation.

As much as Satoru wanted to follow the kids around, pestering them about what trees they liked, he decided to fall back, allowing them to meander and play amongst themselves. Although unspoken, Tsumiki had been trying to help Satoru in bringing her brother out of his shell. It hadn't really changed much outside of learning that the boy liked reading just a bit more than Gojo suspected.

"GOJO!! GOJO!!" The little girl eventually spun around and waved her arms around in the air. "LOOK! THI- This one-" She inhaled deeply, "Don't you think...it's nice?"

Megumi, who had privately been grinning with his sister just a moment prior, was now avoiding his benefactor's eyes, shifting his weight awkwardly while pretending to be occupied by the snow on his shoe.

"Nice? Oh, Miki, I think it's perfect!" He ran around the tree and came to the other side of them, "Only... Megumi? Do you think this one is right as well?"

Tsumiki stood by the tall man now, blinking at the boy expectantly.

"Mmm." He nodded after a second.

"'Mmm' yes? Or 'Mmm' 'let's find a different one'?"

"'Mmm' yes." He stood up straight and decided.

Satoru pumped his fist, "Whooooo! We got a Christmas tree! Oh boy! I can't wait to decorate! Good thing the farm has got some stuff, huh?"

By the time they had wrapped the tree to the top of a staff vehicle and acquired just about every ounce of tinsel and bows the little shop had, the children's noses were pink with cold and the sun was beginning to crest the horizon.

Not too long ago, Satoru had been feeling deep-seated dread around the Christmas atmosphere or lack thereof. Now, as he raced back to the car to start heating the seats, he had a spring in his step.

--

Satoru, surprisingly, was quite a good cook, unfortunately, they hadn't the time for a homecooked meal when they had important tree-decorating-business to attend to, so they ordered take out and got straight to work.

The three of them worked as a team to adorn the branches with twinkles of silver and velvet ribbon. Satoru had purchased far too many strands of lights so they set aside bunchs of them to decorate the kids rooms.

After taking a moment to back away, they all admired their diligent work. It was beautiful, all lit up and sparkling. Satoru had never felt so grown up. Buying a tree and decorating it himself.

After grinning to themselves, Satoru noticed. Oh, how had he forgotten? It's the most important part!

"The topper!" He groaned. "Ughhhh what are we gonna do...I guess I can go out and buy one..." He mumbled, he spun around, hoping to avoid any sighs of disappointment from the little ones. He looked at the clock on the wall and realized how late it was getting.

Tomorrow was Christmas. Everything was closed. Satoru was just about to suggest making one of their own when Tsumiki spoke up.

"Umm... Gojo... Megumi has something to say." She poked at him with her shoe.

There was a long pause before he spoke, "Well....".

But then he was rushing from the living room. Trapsing his way back to the bedroom he was staying in. Satoru felt awful. He wanted everything to feel like a family event.

"What... was that?" The white haired man began, "Is he... that upset?"

Tsumiki didn't even have time to disagree before the boy was racing from the threshold again, this time, something behind his back. He was huffing and puffing with the effort of his speed.

"What've you got there Megs?" The boy still had his hands behind his back. He looked a bit strange with his elbows bent all weird.

"We can... just use this." He spoke so lowly, it was as though he was ashamed. "If we haven't got anything else."

Imagine Satoru's surprise when the boy, who had been the grinch incarnate since day one, brought out a glass star tree topper. It seemed as though it had been hand painted, perhaps a school project. When did Megumi get this?

It took a moment before the oldest of the three spoke, this seemed to discourage Megumi and he was about to hide it once more, saying, "We don't need to... it's not very good."

"NO!" Both Satoru and the boy's sister practically screeched. "NOT VERY GOOD???" Satoru basically flung himself to his knees to get a better look. His glasses had long since been on his head, but he yanked them off, as though they might obstruct the boy's creation. "IT"S GORGEOUS!"

"You're over doing it..." The boys brows were furrowed. Satoru knew the kid was trying to play it off as if he wasn't happy with the older boy, but Megumi's lips were twitching.

"This!" Satoru tilted his nose to the ceiling, "Is the finest of tree toppers! I do declare! How dare you keep this from us! This is what we've needed all along."

--

That night, Megumi would lay in bed, recalling how it felt to be lifted so high, setting his little star atop the tree. His teacher in the week prior had loudly told the class to hang up their stars with their family over Christmas break. There was a strange giddiness he felt knowing he was able to use it. To know it was hung up, not hidden in his school bag.

That morning Satoru had woken the kids up early, skipping into their bedrooms to announce that Santa had come in the night.

"Wow. Santa sure does like cookies..." Megumi almost smiled as he pointed out that the sweets on the counter from the days before were nearly gone.

"Right you are Megumi! I like how you think, we'll need to get more!"

Gojo watched as the kids opened their numerous gifts. The both of them seemed quite uncomfortable with the stacks they had laid out at first. Tsumiki jumped with joy after opening the smallest box, a designer set of colored pencils along with a new sharpener. And that, more than anything, made her little brother smile.

Megumi, however, had a harder time accepting his gifts. Christmas evening, after opening new clothing to grow into, book after book, dog toys, and much more. He found himself watching Satoru from the living room as his sister played games on her DS.

"Whatcha lookin' at Megs?"

Satoru hadn't even peered up from the dish sink, but he knew Meg's had been eyeing him.

"Nothing." Megs turned away and watched Tsumiki reach a new level.

Oddly, he felt like crying. Did he not want it to end? Did he feel guilty? Did he wish he had gotten something else? No, he knew it wasn't any of that.

And then it struck him. This felt an awful lot like a family... it hurt him deep in his stomach and sent pricks to his eyes. Satoru, of course, could tell something was brewing in the boy but he just couldn't get him to say anything.

It wasn't until Gojo was tucking Megumi in for the night, (for the very first time) that he asked.

"Well Megs, was it a good Christmas?"

The boy just nodded and pulled the duvet to his nose.

"Did Santa do a good job, or was there something else you were wishing for?"

The thought struck the boy as insulting.

"No. It was seriously too much, Gojo."

"Hey, kid, don't blame me, that was alllllllll the big guy."

"So were all those cookies going missing..." Megs rolled his eyes.

"Now you're getting it." Satoru decided not to push his luck with patting the boys head and lifted himself to his full height. "Well..." he rolled his head over too the door, "I'm going to go say good night to your sister."

It was at this precise moment, just as Satoru was leaving, that Megumi had a wave pass over him. He tried to sit up but it was too much. He forced the words out, shutting his eyes.

"I wish you would s-stay."

After he said it he breathed a huge sigh, as if it was the most challenging thing he's done.

"What was that?" Gojo's eyes were huge, confused. He sped over to the boys bed, kneeling once more, "What did you say?"

It was too hard to get out again. Megumi just shrugged and felt blood fill his cheeks.

"Did you ask me to stay?" Satoru seemed to chase the boys eyes with his head, leaning over into Megumi's space. "Do you mean here? Or... with you? You and Tsumiki?"

Megumi tugged his comforter to his nose once more, hiding the majority of his face. "With us. Like this."

Years later, Megumi would groan every time he would recall this moment, but for now, it was just for Satoru and him, and his warm toned desk lamp.

"Hey, kid, I'm not goin' anywhere."

Satoru smiled but Megumi wouldn't meet his eye.

"'Cause it's Christmas?"

Satoru's smile widened and this time, he did pat Megumi's head.

"Nah, 'cause I don't want to."

[vengefultakeover]

Napping Roomie

I came home to my roommate closing the fridge wearing nothing but a pair of blue underwear. He did this often, not that I cared. In fact, I actually really enjoyed it. I'd come home to him in a pair of sweatpants, free-balling it with a semi while playing video games and every time he'd make a successful goal or a multi-kill he'd celebrate while that snake pressed against the fabric. Plus, I couldn't complain because he really helped me when I was in a tight spot - offering up his spare room when I couldn't find a place to stay while I was in school.

"Hey man, I was just about to take a nap." He said, walking towards his room.

"No problem, just getting home. I hope it's alright, but I invited someone over in a little."

"No worries, man. I sleep like a rock." He laughed, waving me off and disappearing into his room.

It took thirty minutes for my friend to arrive. Jerry was a larger guy, tall and stocky, and he was my best friend. He brought over some groceries he wasn't using since he mentioned he was going on a trip. Not sure where, figured he'd tell me sooner or later.

"Is Devon here?" He asked, putting more items in the fridge and then some dry goods in the pantry.

"Yeah, he's taking a nap. He looked tired when I came home."

"Oh, sick. I've got something to show you." Jerry walked over to the door and poked his head inside. He closed the door quietly with the biggest shit eating grin I had ever seen.

"What is wrong with you, dude?" I asked with a laugh. He waved me over and I joined him. He started to strip leaving his clothes outside the door before going in. "Hey, what the hell?"

"Shhh, just follow me." He started to creep into the bedroom and I protested with quiet huffs before following him in. We closed the door and could see Devon passed out on his bed. His cock was poking out one leg and then his balls the other. This was enough to make my cock twitch and I felt a warmth at my neck.

"Watch this." Jerry went around the bed and rubbed his hands together before reaching for his cock. I was wide eyed and hard, but frozen in fear and confusion. I watched him pull his thick meat out from his Calvin's and then shove a hand right into the tip. I don't mean like the tip of it, or even a finger, he shoved his whole hand inside. Devon's cock grew hard instantly, his hand making it bulge. His face shifted, turning into slight discomfort, but nothing that was going to wake him up. Then I watched him shove his other hand inside. His arms were suddenly deep inside his cock, the thick rod growing in size as he wriggled his way in. 

"What the fuck?" I gasped.

"Don't worry. He's fine." Jerry whispered. He bent forward, sticking his head between his arms and then pushing his head into his tip. Devon started to writhe, but Jerry kept going. Jumping up and in, his body looked like a cartoon as it expanded his cock and then his body. his stomach bloated, his chest puffed up, even his legs expanded as Jerry disappeared and started pushing himself into each of his limbs. Devon's eyes fluttered and his mouth hung open, a bit of drool coming out as Jerry made his body his home and suddenly it stopped. Devon's musculature returned to the toned sexy body that was napping there before. Devon popped an eye open and that same shit eating grin I had seen on Jerry before appeared on him. 

"What the fuck just happened?" I held my legs together to keep the boner from showing.

"Just a little something I picked up from a witch on the corner." He hopped out of the bed and wobbled once he got to his feet.

"Holy shit this is wild." I said, reaching out and touching him.

"Oh fuck that feels good." Jerry said through Devon, shivering.

"Sorry, I -"

"No. Keep doing it." He pulled my hand close to him and then grabbed my other hand. He pressed them against his chest and I squeezed, feeling the muscular mounds under my palms. Flexing, he pulled me back onto the bed and then wrapped his arms around me, going in for a kiss. I fell to the side, making out with my roommate who was now being controlled by my best friend. I could feel him press against me, the blue underwear slowly being peeled off as I reached down and grabbed a hand full of his plump ass. I couldn't control myself, as we made out I kept pushing myself closer, grinding my hips into him until he was turning around. 

"Fuck me as hard as you want?" He said, reaching back and squeezing his ass. I leaned into him, kissing his back as I aligned the tip of my cock with his hole. I was slow to push into him, my cock head popping in and I could see his back muscles react. 

"Fuck yes." We said in unison as I pushed my whole shaft inside. I let it throb inside, leaning over and laying on him as he was on all fours. He tensed his hole, making me whimper. I pushed myself up, held onto his hips and started thrusting hard. Each slip out and in again felt better than the last and he arched his back in pleasure. Both of us moaned as I slammed myself against him, feeling the euphoric feeling sneak up on me and suddenly I was exploding inside of him. Filling up his hole, we both moaned and the sensation of me busting inside of him caused his cock to erupt, leaving a wet streak along the sheets.

"Holy shit. I didn't think things would feel this crazy inside another person." Jerry said, panting as he rolled over.

"That was amazing." I was also panting, a bit more aggressively from the thrusting.

"I should probably hop out of him. I feel him waking up." Jerry said, jumping up and squatting bit. I watched a hand suddenly appear from his ass, grabbing ahold of his ankles and pulling himself out. The wet squelching was insane as Jerry appeared as his naked self once more. Devon passed out and I pushed him onto the bed. I quickly pushed him into the same position he was in and then met Jerry outside of the door as he was getting ready.

"We should do that again some time." He said, slipping on his shirt.

"Oh, we should do it again and again. that was incredible." I could hear stirring from inside and we ran over to the couch, turning it onto something random. With one final glance at each other, Devon walked out and he had no idea what had just happened between us.

[zepskies]

Yeessss we love a refill. 😂

(LOLL girl no worries. You strike me as a fun drunk. Plus, the other night I had one strong glass of wine and that somehow did me in for the night. I guess that's what I get for trying a "Super Tuscan" red. 😂😂)

Aww you're amazing. Thank you so much, my friend!! 🥹 And best believe, I saw you released two parts of a new Russell story and they're already bookmarked in my TBR. 💖💖

Now, on to the rest of your lovely comments on the ESC finale!

Loved that little moment of jealousy there. How do you like tasting your own medicine, Russ? 😂

Right?! Lmao all that Reenie teasing coming to bite him in the ass.

I absolutely loved their pizza and movie date at home. And they already shared so much with each other 🥹 The fact he felt secure enough to open up to her after this short amount of time says a lot, considering Dory hasn't even told her the story yet. I love them 😭🤍

Aw I'm so glad you loved it! I felt like they needed something low-key that allowed them to reconnect and be there for each other after all the chaos. I debated if having Russ open up like this was too soon, but since she was so honest with him about her past trauma, I thought he would feel that kindred spirit connection, enough to be honest himself.

I haven't forgotten about the "oh, my brother thought I killed our dad" part of the story though. 😂😂 When I eventually write another story for this series, I want to incorporate that reveal somehow when we finally dive into Ashton Shaw in the show. (Maybe I'll read ahead in the books. 👀)

Honestly, in this day and age, it's always best to wait for renewed consent (even though I'm pretty sure she wouldn't have minded in the least lol). Loved that he recognized that and hesitated!

Right? 🙃 Exactly what I was thinking in having him hesitate, even though you're right, she would NOT have minded. 😂 I still thought that little moment of her pulling him down to join her was needed. 💜

Poor girl 😂💕 The morning after is always a tad awkward – especially if everything is still in the balance of will they/won't they and nothing *sexual* has happened yet 😅

LOL exactly. It's a bit of an odd situation all around, even though they've already shared some romantic moments. 😅💜

Absolutely adored this exchange! ❤️ Oooof, and that smut may have been my undoing for tonight! Holy hell!!! 😮‍💨🔥🌶️

Ahaha I had to research bullet sizes and everything. 😏❤️‍🔥

Honestly I'm really flattered you enjoyed the steamy parts, because I feel like smut writing is my weakest link, though I do my best. 😅😂 You write it so well, so that's an extra special compliment coming from you!

Again, she's so cute 😆🤍 I do hope they work something out. I don't think Russell would've necessarily taken the "big" step, knowing her feelings on this, if he hadn't planned to try and make it work somehow ❤️

Lolll she's trying her best to be slick! 😂 Yeah, I think Russell already knew his connection with her was different, and worth pursuing, he just wasn't sure about the reality of how it was going to work until this moment. 💜

Perfect ending, friend 🥹💚 (You know I love a bit of drama and angst in an ending lol) I loved this series so goddamn much! It fit so well with every character and gave so much that the show didn't (like that awesome family reunion of the three Shaws). Can't wait to get into the one-shots over the holidays 😍

Aww thank you! I wanted to be realistic with his lifestyle potentially posing a problem, but at the same time, both of them being willing to figure it out and try to make this work. 💕

I so appreciate you for saying that ESC felt authentic within the Tracker world, because that's something I always try to do, but it was challenging with this new show/world and how much we still don't know about the Shaw family. (But I HAD to include that reunion. 🥹)

I so hope you enjoy the little bonus one-shots whenever you get to them!!

Merry Christmas, my friend!!! I hope you and your family are having so much fun. ❤️❤️

Every Second Counts - Part 5

Pairing: Russell Shaw x F. Reader

Summary: One date with your best friend’s brother leaves you wanting more, even though his questionable job and vagabond lifestyle make you want to guard your heart. When your brother falls into trouble, however, Russell is the one you trust to help you find him. 

AN: I thought about breaking up this chapter into two parts, but for some reason it didn’t feel right. I hope you enjoy the finale! I think this is the moment we’ve all been waiting for…

Word Count: 7K

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! Fluff, angst and hurt/comfort, ‘90s movie reference, mutual pining and tension, and a strong dose of smut.

💜 Series Masterlist

Part 5: “Damn Worth It”

You borrowed Russell’s cell to call Dory from the hospital. You let her know that Charlie was stable and resting, and that Russell was bringing you home.

You should’ve known that when you two got there, you wouldn’t have the kind of privacy you craved. Colter and Dory were waiting in his car, parked in your driveway. They met you in front of your house, where Dory pulled you into a big, swaying hug. She cried, you cried, and her brothers hung back to watch the warm scene.

Dory pulled back to get a better look at you. She hesitated to touch the bandage above your brow.

“God. Are you okay?” she asked.

“Yeah, I’m…I’m fine,” you sniffed, wiping at your face. “Come on, let’s go inside.”

Dory actually had your keys. After she handed them to you, you took in a steadying breath, and you unlocked your front door without incident this time. You invited everyone in.

Even though you told her not to, Dory began straightening up a bit for you. She had Russell take out the trash while she washed the dishes.

Meanwhile, you pulled Colter aside in the living room. You led him to sit with you on the couch.

“Can I at least give you $1,000?” you asked. It was all you had left in your savings, but the man had literally saved your brother's life, and yours as well. “I know it’s not much, compared to what your jobs usually get you—”

“Please,” Colter said. He touched your arm. “Don’t worry about it. I’m just glad you and Charlie are safe.”

You teared up all over again, but you gave him a smile and held his hand with both of yours.

“Thank you,” you said.

Russell happened to spot the cozy little scene from the doorway. He couldn’t help staring, and trying not to frown.

When Colter caught sight of his brother loitering (and that look on his face), Colter tried to hide most of his smile. He let go of your hand, patted your shoulder and stood. You followed him to the kitchen, where he went to check on Dory. Russell filtered in behind you both.

“Hey, wanna grab some lunch?” Colter asked his sister.

She gave him a raised brow. “Wow, my brother actually wants to hang out with me instead of rushing off to the next job?”

He gave her an amused look. “I’ve got some time.”

Dory was happy to hear that, but her expression dimmed when she turned to you.

“Would you want to go? Or do you need to rest?” she asked.

“Oh, I need to get cleaned up, and then sleep for about ten years,” you said. “But you go, D. Have fun.”

She frowned. “I don’t want to leave you here by yourself.”

“Well, she won’t be,” Russell chimed in. “I’m gonna hang out here for a bit, clean up and take little power nap myself.”

At that, Dory slowly smiled, both amused and suspicious. Her gaze slid back to you.

“Are you sure?” she asked. You read the double meaning laced in her tone.

“Yeah, definitely,” you said with a smile, and the beginnings of a warm blush. “You guys go ahead.”

There was a knowing gleam to her own smile, but Dory shrugged and gave you one last hug. She and Colter said their goodbyes to their older brother before they headed out. It left you alone in the house with Russell for the first time since this all began.

“Um, you can use the guest bathroom if you want to shower,” you told him. “Towels are under the sink, and feel free to borrow any of Charlie’s clothes if you need.”

“It’s okay, I’ve got a bag in the car with some stuff,” Russell said, tossing a thumb over his shoulder. “I take one wherever I go.”

“Smart,” you nodded. “Very prepared.”

A strange silence stretched between you two, until you couldn’t take it anymore.

“I’m just…gonna go clean up,” you said. “We can order some food after?”

“Yeah, sounds good,” he said. He was amused as he watched you scurry off, after giving him another smile over your shoulder.

Though he’d be lying if he said he didn’t feel a small trill of nerves himself. It brought him a little bounce in his step as he headed out to his car to grab his stuff.

By the time you were done showering and drying your hair, Russell had ordered a pizza (and a side of fries). You padded out into the living room in an old college shirt and pajama shorts. He tried not to linger his gaze on your smooth, bare legs. 

“Sorry, forgot to ask if you’d want something else to eat,” he said. 

“Pizza is perfect,” you said. At this point, after almost a full day without food, you’d eat sliced bread out of the bag. You gave him a teasing look. “I’d ask you if you wanted a beer, but I’m afraid it’s not up to your standard.”

“Well, that’s okay. I happen to have brought a sample for you, just like I promised,” he said, with that grin of his you’d come to expect.

He retrieved a case of homebrew from his car, but you had to add some ice cubes into a tall glass before you joined him back on the couch. You poured the contents of a bottle into the glass.

“Sorry, I know this is sacrilege, but I can’t drink warm beer,” you said.

“I can’t fault you, though I didn’t really peg you for a pizza and beer kind of girl,” he said. He tipped a swig of beer into his mouth, right from a lukewarm bottle. He was a purist.

You quirked a brow at him and took another bite of your pizza slice. 

“Why not?” you asked, after swallowing a mouthful of pepperoni and mushroom.

Russell shrugged. “Never mind. Forget I said anything.”

“No, no. I want to hear this,” you said. “What, because I teach college students?”

Russell looked over at you and leaned on his elbow, resting above his knee. 

“You’re a college professor with a handful of degrees,” he said. “I’ve got a GED and a give ‘em hell outlook on life.”

You shook your head at that. 

“We’re different. That’s not a bad thing,” you said. “And like my brother, you’ve fought for this country. You’ve saved lives, including mine. I’d say that’s pretty damn special.”

His head tilted at that. He didn’t want to remind you that, just like you saw today, he’d taken lives too. Perhaps just as many as he’d saved. You could debate the quality of those lives, but in the grand scheme of things, he knew what he was. A trained killer.

He rolled his shoulders, feeling a familiar weight.

You didn’t like the pensive look on his face, so you aimed to distract him.

“Want to watch a movie?” you suggested.

Russell inclined his head. “Sure. What you got?”

That was how the two of you ended up finishing the box of pizza and a case of beer while laughing at Tommy Boy, of all things—one of the best '90s buddy road trip comedies of all time. Apparently Russell had never seen it before, but you enjoyed watching him experience it for the first time. He had a deep, infectious laugh that made you laugh just by proximity. 

Later in the movie, the reluctant, unlikely duo of Tommy and Richard hit a deer, and tried to transport it in the car. Russell both laughed and cringed when the animal woke up and thoroughly wrecked the car from the inside. You noticed his reaction and nudged him in the arm. 

Russell held in a grunt of pain when you unintentionally hit his injured shoulder, bandaged underneath his gray henley. 

“What if that was the Chevelle,” you teased. 

He cast you a playfully chiding look. “Woman, don’t even joke.”

You laughed and squeezed his forearm in a friendly gesture. But he thought there was more than just friendliness when you shot him that little smile. He decided to take a chance. 

“Come ‘ere,” he said. He slid a hand around your waist and guided you closer until you came to lay against his side. You allowed yourself to rest against him, splaying your hand flat against the firm wall of his chest. Your heart tripped up faster, but you also relaxed more fully for the first time since you got home. You let out a long breath, and you used the remote to lower the volume on the movie a little.

“Do you think Charlie will be able to get past this?” you asked quietly. “Think he’ll be okay?”

Russell hummed as he thought back to his conversation with your brother in the hospital. Charlie was still young, but he seemed to realize what he’d done, and what he needed to change. He wouldn’t have volunteered himself for rehab if he hadn’t.

Russell brushed your arm with his thumb. “Well, I think he knows what he needs to do. If he’s anything like you, then he’ll be all right.”

Your mouth tugged upward, though you considered his words with a sigh.

“He hasn’t had it easy,” you said. “He was barely eighteen when our parents died. Suddenly he had to be an adult. In fact, he almost didn’t finish high school. Had to take care of the funeral, had to get a job, had to take care of me…and I didn’t always make it easy on him.”

Russell’s lips curved in light of your faint smile. Then, your expression dimmed.

“He pulled me out of the car,” you admitted. Russell looked down at you.

“You all were there?” he asked. 

“My dad was driving. We’d just gone out to dinner as a family,” you said.

You hesitated as the scenes once again filtered through your mind. Some things were hazy. Others, you could see with perfect clarity. You remembered how your parents argued about the best way to get home while the pouring rain beat down overhead, half-drowning out their voices.

You remembered what the flash of a red stoplight looked like through the car window, with streams of water coming down, and a dead leaf stuck to the glass.

You remembered the sound of horns blaring in your ears, the crunch of metal on metal. Your mother’s scream. The feeling of being suspended, and then ricocheted painfully through time and space.

Then the smell of exhaust, and the metallic tang of blood.

“We were heading through a terrible storm,” you said, after letting out a long breath through your nose. “By the end of the night, it was just me and Charlie in the hospital.”

He’d broken his arm, but thanks to him, the only thing you really walked away with were a few cuts and bruises, and the memories of that day. They were like old scars, painful and tender at the touch.

Russell shook his head, his brows knitting together. “I’m sorry.”

“Yeah,” you breathed. “And I’m sorry too. I know you understand what it’s like to lose a parent.”

The movie played on as that new weight settled between you. Russell fell into his own thoughts as he continued to rub your arm in comfort. His own past wasn’t like yours, but he did understand some of your pain.

“How much did Dory tell you about how we grew up?” he asked.

You shifted a bit, so you could see his face too.

“I know your dad took you all to a cabin in some sort of compound in the woods, when you all were still pretty young.”

“He taught us to live off the land. Drilled us, really,” Russell explained, noting your raised brows. “Yeah, he was…well, a paranoid bastard, to be frank. We still don’t know all of why, and what drove him to move us out there.”

“Dory said he was…eccentric,” you said. Russell snorted.

“He was a piece of fucking work,” he said. “Half the time I hated him, if I’m honest.”

That part was hard to admit, even if it was true. Your hand soothed across his chest, more comforting as you listened. Russell’s lips quirked. He liked that about you, that you were willing to listen without judging him, or his family. Maybe that was another reason Dory seemed to love you so much.

“But one night, it was like he snapped,” he said.

For a moment, he was lost in the memory. His father’s anger, and the damn crazy look in his eyes. 

“What happened?” you asked quietly.

Russell glanced at you again. “I don’t think you wanna hear this right now.”

You shook your head. “No, I do.”

He hesitated, but that earnest look in your eyes got him. Still, he surprised himself when he actually told you. He explained it the best he could, the way he saw it in his mind’s eye.

Their mom had been missing, hadn’t come home yet. Then his dad had torn around the house like a man possessed, until he told them it was time to leave for their own safety. Dory had been scared, especially when he grabbed her, yelled at her.

That was the one thing Russell couldn’t tolerate. So he snapped, yanking the older man back and shoving him away. It was one of the first times Russell had ever defied his father.

Ashton Shaw left them then, heading out into the night and the rain. Maybe he’d realized what he was doing to his own kids, his own family.

Colter wanted to follow after him, but Russell stopped him. Being the eldest, he took on the responsibility, even if he’d been reluctant. We’re better off without him…

He was barely sixteen at the time, but Russell knew he’d seen his father arguing with someone—a man he’d seen before, talking with his mother. And then…

“I watched him die that night,” Russell said.

Your hand clenched in his shirt, reminding him that you were still in his arms, still listening. He remembered that scene, looking over the cliff to find his father’s broken body down below. 

“He fell, and I couldn’t stop it,” he said. “And to this day, I still don’t know what all that was about.”

He’d been reluctant to tell even Colter that it still haunted him sometimes; that night, and the not knowing.

You pulled yourself up further so you could meet Russell’s gaze.

“I’m so sorry,” you said.

The movie had long faded into the background, but at least it gave some white noise for the next heavy beat that passed between you two. His eyes eventually fell away from yours.

“It’s old history,” Russell said at last.

“It’s not just history,” you denied softly. “It’s your life.”

He didn’t know what to say to that, so he just hummed in agreement. He encouraged you to relax against him again, with a warm hand on your back. You settled and released another contented sigh. Even though Russell’s story weighed on your heart, you did feel closer to him. It made you feel like you understood Dory better too, and even Colter.

Russell rubbed your arm. “You doin’ okay? You’ve had a long day.”

“Day and night,” you agreed. Your eyes closed against your will. “But, yeah…I think I’m okay now.”

At that, he smiled. He laid a kiss on your forehead.

“Good,” he said.

A few minutes later, Russell heard your soft, deeper breaths in sleep. He chanced grabbing a throw blanket laid over the back of the couch. He managed to toss it over your body, but he made sure it covered you. You shifted in your sleep and curled up more comfortably against him. 

Russell smiled down on you fondly. He’d learned a hell of a lot more about you in just the past couple of days, but ever since he met you, he’d been picking up on the important things. The things that made you the woman you were.

And he wanted more, he realized. He wanted more time with you.

That turned out to be the last real thought he had before his eyes closed on him too. 

Russell didn’t wake again until the credits on the movie were rolling near the end. You were still knocked out. So he carried you, blanket and all, over to your bedroom.

He smelled the remnants of your floral shampoo and body wash in the air, likely coming from the bathroom. It was an intoxicating mix, one that had infiltrated his nose ever since you came out of the shower today. 

It was only 6:00 p.m., but it might as well have been midnight. He laid you down toward the middle of the bed. There was still space on the other side. Very tempting.

She did offer, he thought, remembering what you’d said at the hospital. And yet, he hesitated.

Before he could make a decision, you made it for him. Your hand reached out to hook in his shirt. 

Russell looked down at your sleepy smile. 

“Get over here,” you said, tugging him downward. He chuckled and wrapped his hand around yours. He allowed you to guide him over, and he somehow managed to roll onto the other side of the bed without crushing you. 

“Reflexes like a cat, I tell ya,” he quipped.

You giggled softly. He took off his first layer of defense (his pants), leaving him in his henley and boxer briefs. He settled into bed behind you and slipped an arm around your waist. He fit in snug against your back.

“Mmm,” he sighed. His lips pressed behind your ear, smiling there. “Feels nice.” 

“Mhmm,” you agreed.

He couldn’t see your smile, but you held his arm in place. For the first time in a while, you weren’t alone.

In the early morning, you woke up to warmth and closeness. The man in your bed snored lightly, mouth parted in sleep while he faced you. You smiled.

How could a man who felt dangerous, in more ways than one, also make you feel safe? It was a wonder. Though when an idea hit you, you carefully slid out of bed.

Russell eventually roused in his own time. He blinked awake, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He stretched out his limbs in your very comfortable bed. This sure beat rusty motel springs.

He realized that he was alone in the room, but he heard you puttering around the house. He allowed himself to doze some more.

A few minutes later, you returned to greet him with a couple of mugs, drawing him back into the waking world with the rich smell of coffee.

“Aww yeah, that’s the stuff,” he said. He groaned as he slowly sat up.

You laughed and sat beside him on the edge of the bed. “Good morning.”

“Morning,” he said. His voice was deeper and rougher with sleep, washing down your spine pleasantly.

He accepted the mug you offered him. He took a sip and hummed in pleasure at its bold flavor. It wasn’t as sweet as he usually liked it, but it was exactly what he needed right now.

“I just did a little sugar and creamer. That okay?” you asked. 

“It’s good,” he nodded. And you looked good, he noticed, with your bed-tousled hair and an open robe over your tank top and little shorts.  

“Do you want to meet Dory and Colter for breakfast?” you asked. “Dory texted me this morning.”

Russell’s brows shot up. 

“Colt stuck around?” he asked.

“Yeah, Dory asked him to stay at her place last night,” you said. Russell hummed in response. 

A bit of an awkward lull fell between you. You’d felt bolder yesterday in the hospital, but now, you weren’t entirely sure what you were doing with a man who just slept somewhat-but-not-altogether platonically in your bed.

“Um, I’ll just…get ready then,” you said, pointing to the bathroom. “You…take your time.”

He cleared his throat. “Uh, yeah.”

He peeled back the covers and climbed out of your bed, away from the sheets that smelled like you. 

You watched him go when he headed across the hall back to Charlie’s room. You sighed and beat your hand against your own forehead in frustration. What the hell am I doing?

You’d literally invited him into your bed last night, but he hadn’t done anything more than hold you while you slept. It was incredibly kind, and it said a lot about him, despite his rough-around-the-edges exterior. You were just a little disappointed that he’d been a perfect gentleman about it all. 

You rolled your eyes at yourself. What did that say about you?

You shook your head and resolved to freshen up. There was still a cut that the ER nurse covered with a butterfly bandage above your brow. You cleaned it up and applied a new bandage. Then you put on some makeup to cover the ugly bruise on your cheek and the dark circles that lingered under your eyes.

God, look at me. You actually wouldn’t blame Russell for not being into you enough to make a move. 

A bit disheartened, you changed out of your pajamas to slip on a nice, but comfortable dress over your bra and underwear. Afterward, you paused to stare at yourself in the mirror for a moment. What exactly do you want here?

“Hey, uh—” Russell’s voice startled you, making you flinch. Maybe you were still jumpy.

He raised an apologetic hand. “Sorry. Just thought I’d ask if you want some toast or something. I don’t think my stomach can wait ‘til we meet up with Dory.”

You smiled faintly. “Sure, go ahead. Whatever’s there, you’re welcome to.”

Russell paused, tilting his head. There was something off with you. He saw it, and felt it. 

“Hey, you okay?” he asked. 

“Yeah,” you said, glancing away. 

Russell’s spidey senses began to tingle. He approached you and laid a hand on the counter, inches from yours. 

“You sure?” he said. He took in your hesitant face, then the pretty dress you had on. The color matched your eyes. Soulful eyes.

He smiled when you let him see them again.

“Can you see the bruises? I think I covered them up well enough,” you said. You turned to look at yourself in the mirror again, touching your jaw carefully. 

Russell’s hand raised to find your cheek, earning your attention with wider eyes. His thumb swept across your skin as you started to blush.

“You’re beautiful,” he said with a smile. “Don’t you worry about that.”

Your face warmed further, despite your smile. 

“Yeah, the makeup helps,” you quipped. 

“I didn’t say anything about makeup,” he replied. Though he grinned and made a show of looking closer at your face. “Although, have your lashes always been that damn long?”

You laughed, but he didn’t let go of you. Instead, his hand drifted down to your neck, cradling your jaw. His thumb brushed over your lower lip this time, smudging your lipstick a little. Your eyes met his, but they’d already lowered, to the path of his hand. You were tempted to nip at his thumb, or better yet, suck it into your mouth.

Perhaps he read the thought crossing your face. Because when those darkened eyes flicked up to yours, he finally bowed his head to kiss you.

You took in a deep breath, and you melted into his mouth with a moan of wanting. A craving from the depths of your heart, finally being fulfilled.

You didn’t let yourself think anymore. You gripped the front of his shirt and pulled him closer. He cupped the back of your head, tangling his fingers into your hair as he deepened the kiss. His tongue invaded your mouth, and you let him in. You met his every kiss with the same fervor, claiming him right back, demanding just as much.

Your hands slid up his chest and helped him shrug off the green jacket first, then his shirt (Led Zeppelin this time). He hooked an arm around your waist and brought you flush against him, so he could turn you around and walk you back to the bed. 

You clung to his bare shoulders and savored the feeling of his warm, calloused hands burning up your thighs and ass, bunching the skirt of your dress. You helped him get it over your head and toss it onto the floor along with his clothes. 

As he held you by the waist, his gaze dipped for a moment to take you in, from bare thighs and hips and lacy panties, all the way up to your breasts cupped in your bra. Through panting breaths, you smiled and blushed at the heated depths of his green eyes. You felt like your heart was beating in and out of rhythm.  

But you managed to get a hold of your nerves long enough to drag your hands down his chest, down to his belt. You unclipped it for him and took your time in sliding the entire belt out of its loops. Then you let the brown leather fall to the floor. 

Russell raised a brow at you, smiling. Taking your challenge for what it was, he unbuttoned his jeans himself and aimed to step out of them, but he had some trouble when one of the pant legs got caught around his ankle and sock-covered foot.

“Shit,” he muttered as he stumbled a little. “Hold on.”

Unable to help a small giggle, you grabbed his left arm to help steady him. He hissed in pain, but he cleared his throat to cover it. You gasped as you realized what you’d done. You noticed then that he had a bandage tightly wrapped above his elbow, right below one of his tattoos.

“What’s this?” you asked in concern. You held his arm with both hands. “Did you get shot? Did you get this looked at when we were at the hospital?”

Russell staved off your questions with a gentle hand on your shoulder.

“It’s okay. This is old, just still healing up,” he said. 

You frowned up at him. “You got stabbed, shot, what? When did this happen? I thought you worked in private security.”

“A couple months ago. I got, uh, grazed. Don’t worry about it,” he said. “Sometimes the job gets a bit dicey.”

He could tell though, that you weren’t going to let it go easily. 

“Let me see,” you said, trying to peek under the bandage. Russell laughed and gathered you into his arms to stop your attempts. Your concern warmed him, but it wasn’t necessary. 

“I’m fine, sweetheart. I promise. Can we focus on the fun part, here?” he said.

Your brows furrowed. You opened your mouth to reply, but Russell saw the testiness in your eyes. He dipped down to kiss you, swallowing whatever snippy remark you were about to make.

You weren’t the only one giving into a craving here. Russell’s was bone-deep, molten in his blood, and getting to see you, to feel your soft body under his hands was already so much better than he’d imagined. His hold tightened on your waist, his fingers pressing into your skin.

A shudder ran up your spine at his touch. You circled your arms around his neck and let him continue ravishing you, then laying you down onto the bed. 

While you were careful about avoiding the bandage, your hand did drift down his arm, and further still, to palm at the straining bulge pressing against you. And Jesus Christ, did it feel generous. He grunted at your touch and paused with his lips against your jaw. 

“Well hey there, cowboy,” you said, adopting a more sensuous tone. “I had a feeling you’d be packing. What’s that, a .45, or a 38 Special?”

Russell’s eyes blinked wide. Then he erupted with deep laughter that made his shoulders shake. Aside from throwing a punch, your brother must’ve taught you something about guns too. 

“Well thank you, kindly,” Russell said, putting on a bit of a southern drawl, just to tease you. “But you’re about to find out, naughty girl.”

You giggled as he began to kiss your neck, languid and sloppy. He blazed a wet trail down the column of your throat and between your breasts. His beard rasping against your skin made you shudder a little, but it wasn’t unpleasant. In fact, you quite liked that a lot.

He slipped a hand underneath you to unclip the black lace. You arched into him so he had easier access. 

He slid the bra from your body and tossed it somewhere behind him. Just as he’d imagined, you had beautiful tits. His lips explored each of them in turn, squeezing supple flesh and rolling your sensitive, hardened nipples with his tongue and fingers. 

It was a prequel, you thought, for what talents that mouth might have further down. You had to moan just at the idea, your fingers clenching in his hair, but also at the sensations he was drawing from your body wherever he touched. The man clearly knew what he was doing.

He traveled lower still and laid slow, occasionally nipping kisses across your stomach, hips and thighs. His fingers hooked around your panties and lowered them down your legs. You felt his warm breath panting against your thigh. You glanced down at him and tensed in anticipation. 

“Still good?” he checked, squeezing your hip. You smiled and reached for his hand. Russell gave it to you, brushing his thumb over the back of your hand in affection. 

“I think I’m about to be,” you said cheekily.

He smirked. His other hand smoothed up the inside of your thigh and slipped past your folds, finding wetness that already coated his digits.

“Goddamn. You’re soaked,” he said, just a hint teasing. “Bet if I put my mouth on you, you’d fuckin’ drown me.”

Again, he stopped whatever smart quip you were about to levy at him next when his fingers found your clit. You let out a gasping moan instead.

He decided that he already loved that sound. He endeavored to pull it from you, again and again when he began working you open with his fingers and pumping them inside you. He enjoyed seeing you writhe and arch against his hand. Your hands squeezed his arms, his shoulders, trying to anchor yourself.  

His thumb circled and strummed your clit in a rhythm only he could hear in his head, until you couldn’t help biting your nails into his shoulders when you came. You shuddered your release as your core throbbed with warmth and slick around his fingers. 

“Fuck, that’s my girl,” he said. His voice rasped deep with arousal. “Wouldn’t even mind if you did drown me.” 

You huffed in response, unable to form speech just now.

Next time, Russell thought. He slipped his fingers out of you and licked them clean, making your eyes widen. He smirked and stroked your thigh as you came down, a shuddering mess.

After taking a second to regain your breath, you pulled him down for a kiss, both grateful and fueled by a passion you couldn’t put into words. What you felt for this man was instinctual, from the moment you saw him. And yet, it was also so much more. It was raw, and real, and maybe even beautiful.

The thought spurred you on as your hands moved with purpose down his body. Your nails caught at the waistband of his boxer briefs as you tried to roll them down. You got it halfway down his thighs, enough to let his hardened length spring free. You bit your lip at the mere sight of him. Goddamn.

Your hand slid around his cock, near its weeping head. You used the beads of wetness there to work your way smoothly down to its base. Russell’s body tensed above you, just before he groaned low in pleasure.    

You pushed at his chest to have him let you up. 

“Your turn, baby,” you said. It would be one hell of a challenge to get your mouth down that beautiful 44 Magnum, but you were more than willing to try.

To your surprise, Russell shook his head and guided you back down.

“Let’s pin that one for next time too. Wanna be inside you already,” he said.

You blinked, but then you nodded in breathless agreement. He kissed you deeply, devouring you with his teeth grazing your bottom lip. His tongue soon slipped out to soothe it.   

“Condom?” he panted, between kisses. 

“Oh, yeah. Um…bathroom, bottom drawer,” you whispered, though you weren’t sure why you were whispering. 

“Okay, two seconds,” he said.

He left you in the bed, quite literally hot and bothered, and very naked. You crossed your arms over your breasts on reflex while you tried to recover. Your core was still tingling, and your heart was beating fast, though you couldn’t stamp out the smile forming on your face. 

You heard the sound of foil unwrapping and clothed rustling. When he came back to the bedroom, you finally got a full picture of what you were in for. You unconsciously licked your lips as your gaze dipped down his body, and the indeed impressive package at full mast, and full display. 

A grin curved his lips when he caught you staring. He climbed back onto the bed with just a bit of struggle with all the blankets coiled about. He pushed a heavy blanket out of his way, accidentally shoving it to the floor.

“Back to business,” he said.

“Oh, yeah,” you agreed, and you welcomed him back, sliding your hands up his arms and shoulders. You hooked your thigh around his hip as he found his way back between your legs. Holding his bearded face in your hands, you pulled him in for another kiss that reignited you both. 

He sunk his hand into your hair and treated you to another slow, deep kiss. Until your thigh tightening around his hip urged him to satisfy what you both had been wanting and waiting for.

He grabbed your thighs and angled you higher. Then he lined himself up at your entrance. Looking into your eyes, your breaths mingling together, he sheathed himself a little at a time. A keening moan fell from your lips.

He started with shallow thrusts, giving you time to adjust. But that in itself was a torturous tease. It made the coil in your lower belly start to tighten again. Pleasure began to thrum inside you, ever slowly. Your head tipped back into the pillows with a gasp.  

“God, Russell, please,” you uttered. You squeezed his arms on reflex, your heels digging into his ass. 

“I know, baby. Gonna fucking wreck you, I promise,” he said with a grin. 

You huffed in amusement. That was a hefty promise.

Though a moan tore from your throat when he finally bottomed out, stretching your inner walls. He groaned along with you. His lips fastened to your neck as he gave you deeper thrusts.

“You feel so good,” you said raggedly in his ear, raking your fingers through his hair. You felt every damn inch of him.

“You too, baby. So damn good,” he gritted out. “Tell me what you want.”

He raised your thigh a bit higher, his fingers pressing into flesh.

“Ugh, fuck,” you gasped, as he hit a particularly delicious angle. “Whatever you want to give me.”

“You sure about that?” Russell asked, panting against your neck. Your nails dragged down his back between the muscles in his shoulders, hard enough to earn a halting groan from him.

You nodded emphatically. “Yes!”

His lips hinted at a smile. “Okay, hold on."

Before you could even respond, he pulled out of you all the way, just so he could guide you over onto your stomach. He pulled you up onto your hands and knees. As he ran a hand down the gentle slope of your back and around the curve of your ass, you breathed harder in anticipation.

“So damn beautiful,” he muttered.

You glanced at him over your shoulder. You unconsciously bit your lip as your heart couldn’t help but swell at his words. Russell met you with a look that betrayed his desire, making your lower belly tremble as well.

He parted your cheeks and slotted himself between your thighs from behind. You once again felt the head of his cock nudging at your entrance, and then pushing back in with one deep plunge. Both of you let out moans of relief at the feeling.  

Pretty soon, he was pounding into you deeper and faster than before. Oh, fuck yes…

You clawed at the headboard, trying to find something to keep you stable. Russell’s arm slid around you for a solid support. You held onto him right back with one hand while he continued to drive into you, earning each and every sound coming out of your mouth. He’d finally angled you just right, so he could hit that special spot inside you with every thrust. Your pussy clenched on him in response, making him grunt in pleasure. 

“Fuck, you’re close. I can fuckin’ feel it,” he said, panting. He laid a biting kiss where your neck met your shoulder. You cried out in both pain and pleasure, your inner walls once again squeezing on him. 

“Yeah,” you nodded, breathless. “This time, you’re gonna come with me.”

You reached back and tangled your fingers into his hair. He held you to his chest and squeezed your breast a bit roughly. You uttered a wanton sound. You dragged his hand down your body to part your folds. You used his fingers to press against your clit. 

He picked up your hint, and then took control, massaging you with his fingers. There you began to tremble from the inside out. Warmth emanated from your core and spread outward, down to your toes as you came even harder on his cock. 

Russell wasn’t far behind. His voice joined yours as his body locked up, and he spilled hot into the condom. You almost wished he’d come freely inside you, so you could really feel him. Regardless, your body was boneless when he lowered you down onto the bed afterward.

“Holy shit,” you breathed.

He chuckled and kissed your shoulder, before he fully pulled out. Panting for breath though you both were, you managed to twist onto your side and reach a hand for his cheek. Your fingers slipped higher from there, cupping the back of his neck. Your thumb swept tenderly across his cheek, and you guided him down for a proper kiss.

Russell obliged you, his lips meeting yours plush and wet. He brushed strands of your sweaty hair away from your forehead with affection.

Somehow, that last kiss was softer than all the rest.

One thing was for sure though. There was no way you two were making it to breakfast. 

“I kind of feel bad now,” you later confessed. 

You and Russell were taking a few minutes just to recover under the messy sheets. He held you while sitting up against your headboard. He almost craved a smoke. You’d given him a damn workout. 

He smirked at the thought. Admittedly, his mind was more on focused on the scenes replaying in his head than on what you were saying. 

“Dory doesn’t get to see you guys that often,” you continued, “and who knows how long Colter will seriously wait for us to get out of bed.”

Russell’s attention drifted back to you at that.

“Come on, it’s not like they know why we’re running late,” he said. You gave him a knowing look. 

“Are you kidding? They were already suspicious when you brought me home yesterday,” you replied with a laugh. 

Russell grinned and rubbed your arm. He knew you were probably right, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. 

“Yeah, well. That was damn worth it,” he said.

You smiled. You rolled your head over on his shoulder, so you could see his face, but you became contemplative as uncertainty crept in. You let in a breath to gather your courage, and you decided to take a chance. 

“You know, drug dealers aside, Laramie isn’t such a bad place to live,” you pointed out. “We’ve got a movie theater, a couple good outlet malls, a new Tex-Mex restaurant that just opened down the street. I’m gonna have to find a new bar though.”

Russell smiled at you. He knew what you were suggesting.

He sighed as his amusement faded. 

“Look, even if I stay…” he hesitated.

He looked into your eyes and saw the vulnerability there. You were being honest with him, putting your heart into his hands. The least he could do was be honest. He covered your hand where it rested on his chest.

“If I’m on a job, I could be gone weeks at a time. I won’t be able to tell you where I am or what I’m doing. That’s gonna be hard on you,” he said. 

He knew his friend Doug made it work with his wife, but their relationship wasn’t without friction because of the job he and Russell shared.

“I can handle it,” you said firmly. 

“You just had a little freak out over a scratch earlier,” Russell pointed out, with a gesturing hand at his bandaged arm. 

“Okay, that’s different,” you said.

You wouldn’t say it now, but there were things that still concerned you about his job. You had a strong feeling that "private security" wasn’t all it entailed. However, after what he’d done for you, after what he’d done for Charlie, you knew that Russell Shaw was a good man.

There was something good here, and you didn’t want to lose it this time. You shifted in his arms, so you could face him.

“Look, we can sit down and figure all that out,” you said. “But do you want to at least try? Or…am I reading this wrong?”

Russell stared back at you ruefully. He raised a hand to touch your cheek, grazing your soft skin with his fingers. 

“No, you’re not,” he said. 

In fact, what he felt already ran deeper with you than he’d like to admit. He let out a long breath through his nose. 

“Okay,” he said at last. “If we’re gonna do this, let’s do it right, I guess. I’ll book a motel here in town for now. If things go well, I can…I don’t know, find an apartment.”

Your answering smile broke him down further, even as it warmed him inside. You turned over to circle your arms around his neck, and as an added bonus, pressing your bare breasts against his chest. You kissed his cheek with a happy hum. He laughed at your enthusiasm. He also accepted your sweet path of kisses that led to his lips. 

He groaned when it became not so sweet, with your tongue slipping hotly against his. His hold on your hips tightened.

“Uh oh. Baby, we can’t do this now,” he chuckled, even though your hand was already wandering down his body and under the sheets. You both were supposed to be getting ready to meet his brother and sister for lunch. 

“Five minutes,” you said against his lips. All the while, you were pushing him back onto the bed. You began to kiss down his chest, and lower still.   

Russell snorted. Right. 

But he wasn’t about to argue with you. He had a gut feeling…one that made him almost certain.

He’d found where he wanted to be. 

AN: Well, then! I hope you enjoyed the "happy ending." 😘 I always get a bit sad at the end of a series, but thank you to everyone who's followed the ride on Every Second Counts. Let me know what you thought of how it all shook out here at the end between her and Russell! 💜

Read the Sequel:

Want more ESC? Read the next one-shot, Lost Time (18+):

Summary: When Russell takes longer than usual on a job out of town, you realize how hard it is to live half a life with him.

▶️ Keep Reading: Lost Time

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[lady-pug]

Written Between the Lines

Chapter VII - Fill Me With Love

Summary: After catching sight of you several times being a sweetheart towards different children, Aemond wishes for a babe of his own, to finally take a step further into growing your family, and he is hells bent on doing it tonight.

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Reader

Word count: 3,8k

Warnings: canon-typical incest (uncle-niece); smut, so minors DNI; oral sex (female receiving); p in v sex; fingering; switch!Aemond (in this chapter he is truly dom!Aemond); breeding kink

Notes: Okay, this was kind of rushed, but it is because I’m about to go on a trip until the new year and I didn’t want to end the year without updating this story. So here it! Please let me know what you think!!

Anyway, as always, if you spot any mistakes, please feel free to warn me and I’ll correct it right away, and feedback is always welcome and appreciated. Happy holidays, and I’ll see you all next year! Enjoy!

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It was driving him mad. Absolutely downright insane. He didn’t know how much more of this he could take.

In all his years living inside the Red Keep in King’s Landing, Aemond had never realized how many children inhabited the castle along with everyone else. Most of the time the children, especially the babes, were kept separated from court, and even when the older ones did attend, they remained quiet because, as his mother had once told him many years ago, ‘children were meant to be seen, not heard’. 

Even then, he didn’t typically interact with most of the kids. Sure, he enjoyed the company of his sister’s children, Jaehaera in particular, but other than that he did not really speak to other people below adolescence. What he didn’t account for was how much you seemed to spend your time with children.

Everywhere he went you seemed to have a child not too far from you; either a babe in your arms, a toddler propped on your hip or a child clinging to your skirts, you seemed to attract every child in the vicinity. When you weren’t helping Rhaenyra with Visenya, cradling her close to your chest, you were teaching Aegon and Viserys how to bond with their dragons. You even started spending time with Helaena’s children; more than once he caught you in her chambers, playing with Jaehaerys or brushing Jaehaera’s hair, or bouncing Maelor in your arms. Sometimes he even saw you interacting with one of the servants’ children, giving them your undivided attention.   

The most unexpected for him, however, was what the sight of you with a child, whoever they were, made him feel. Anytime Aemond would lay eyes on you laughing and making silly faces towards a child, or consoling a crying infant his heart clenched and something in his stomach twisted. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it, couldn’t properly give this feeling a name, until the day he caught you bouncing Visenya in your arms, humming under your breath. A lullaby, he recognized, one his own mother used to sing to him many years ago. That’s when it hit him fullforce, the meaning behind the heat pooling low in his stomach. spreading to his chest, crawling up his neck and warming his cheeks. 

He was horny. 

Aemond was honestly taken aback by how turned on the thought of you with a child, more specifically, with his child made him feel. He felt his cock twitch at the image his mind conjured: you, carrying his child in your womb, stomach swollen and heavy. As your hums gave way to words, outright singing to your sister now, the image changed, now another child, a toddler, a mop of white hair atop their head and eyes so much like yours, sprawled at your side on a bench, head on your lap as you read to both them and the child still inside you, book propped on your prominent bump. The strength of the pleasure brought to him by the thought was so great he had to lean against the nearest wall in order not to fall over.

The two of you had been married for over a moon already and his seed had yet to take root, as the ladies in court insisted on reminding you, much to your visible displeasure. It wasn’t for lack of trying though, oh no, but sometimes these types of things take time, as Rheanyra reminded you once. But even her words could not prevent the disappointment that had taken over you once your moonsblood arrived a little over a sennight after the wedding. Aemond had never seen you this disappointed before, not even when your mother had scolded you after finding out you had kicked Aegon years before (even though he very much deserved it), and you had spent the rest of the day in quiet solitude. He had eventually found you sulking in the Keep’s library, thumbing at a book he knew you had already read, having skipped supper.

“Wife.” he had greeted “You were missed at dinner.”  

“I am not hungry.” you pouted, and had you not been thoroughly upset, he would have found it charming.

Sighing, he had taken a seat next to you, gently grabbing one of your hands and pulling it towards his lips. 

“We can try again.” he laid a soft kiss on your knuckles.

“I know. I just-” it was your turn to sigh then “I was just so hopeful.”

“I know. As was I.” his thumb started caressing the back of your hand “But we keep trying. We do not stop trying until I have fucked my seed so far into your womb it has no other choice but to take root.”

You chuckled at his antics, growing flustered at his crass words.

“And besides,” he placed a short yet hungry kiss upon your lips “it is not like the ‘trying’ part is displeasurable for either of us, if my memory serves me right. You were actually quite…” he mockingly paused, pretending to look for the right word “vocal about it last night.”

Although your cheeks were flaming with embarrassment, you had kissed him fiercely in return, not necessarily disagreeing with him. He then proceeded to take you right there in the library, with you bent over the hardwood table, the book you had been previously reading long forgotten. Aemond was sure grandmaester Orwyle had entered the room at some point but he couldn’t bring himself to care a single bit, too distracted by his cock nestled upon the damp warmth of your cunt.  

At the time he hadn’t realized how much the thought of you carrying his child impacted him, but now? It was all he could think about. It was a raw, almost primal need, one which set his blood aflame, like dragon fire. He wanted, no, needed it. At the same time, a softness enveloped him when such thoughts arose in his mind, him caressing your swollen stomach and whispering sweet nothings to your, his, unborn child; sleeping on his back with a tiny babe sprawled on his naked chest, right over his heart, one of his large palms over their back, covering the entirety of their little body and protecting them from the dangers of the world. 

It all came to a head one afternoon, his sparring session with Ser Criston running later than he predicted, causing him to miss lunch with you. So he set out to find you, intent on making up for his mistake, but he couldn’t find you anywhere inside the palace. After inquiring about your whereabouts to some of the servants they pointed him in the direction of the gardens. And the sight that greeted him almost knocked him off his feet.

You were sitting under the weirwood tree, your back against the harsh bark, Helaena slumped against the tree next to you, deep in slumber. Jaehaerys and Jaehaera laid at your side, both with a head laying against each of your thighs, while you cradled baby Maelor with one arm against your chest. Your free hand was interwoven in his niece’s soft locks, caressing her scalp. For a moment he figured all three children, like their mother, were asleep in your lap, and although that seemed to be the case for both his nephews, he soon heard Jaehaera’s soft, tiny voice speak up to you, her eyelids heavy and droopy.

“I ran into Lady Baratheon after tea.” she said “Me and brother were running in the halls and I bumped into her legs.” 

Aemond watched as your lips curled into a smirk, picturing the two children running around and causing mischief, much like the two of you once did in your youth.

“And what did she say?” you questioned.

“She went” and the little girl produced a scoffing sound, almost ridiculous coming from her “and said we should not be running, that we could hurt someone.”

It was your turn to scoff then, as if the notion that two small children could hurt a grown adult was ludicrous. 

“She looked angry and said I should stop behaving like that, that it was too un… unla…”

“Unladylike?” you supplied for her, your smirk no longer present, a gloom look crossing over your features.

“Yes, that!” she giggled, then her expression turned slightly sour “She said it is no wonder I am so q… qu…” 

“Queer?” you gritted out.

“Yes, that I am queer just like my mother.”

Aemond felt his blood boiling in his veins at the jab directed not only at his niece, but also at his sister. It was true that Helaena was different, had always been, but it never ceased to enrage him how the people, and mostly, the women on court would treat her. The younger ones would exclude her from their endeavors at best, and at worst they would pretend to be interested in her and then proceed to whisper foul things about her behind her back. The older ladies would often treat her like a child, infantilizing her and speaking to her in a sickeningly sweet and paused tone that he knew she loathed. It was one of the reasons he was so thankful for the way you treated his sister; unlike his mother, who pretended nothing was different about her, you acknowledged it and embraced Helaena’s differences, the things that make her who she is. He was glad that Helaena found a dear friend in you, not failing to notice that since your arrival at the Keep she had been visibly more relaxed and less lonely.

“Jaehaera.” he had barely noticed that your fingers had stilled their movement in her hair or that your expression had hardened “You know what you should do next time Lady Baratheon, or anyone for that matter, says something like that about you or your mother?” 

“What?”

Your previous smirk returned to your features then, mischief swimming in your eyes.

“You kick them in the shin.” you shook your head “Or better yet, you call for me and I will do it for you, that way you will not get in trouble.”

For a single, brief moment, Aemond could have sworn his heart ceased beating, were it not for the loud ringing in his ears. Warmth spread through his body, starting from his chest and travelling up his neck, to his cheeks heating up the tip of his ears, all the while that same blood boiled in his veins, traveling down and making his cock twitch.

For a fleeting moment he felt lousy for the reaction such a tender moment between you, his wife, and his beloved niece arose in him, but the feeling was brief, for the very next moment he was rushing to your shared chambers, like a man on a mission.

He was hells bent on getting you with child that very day, and the Seven be damned if they didn’t give him what he wanted.

Your afternoon spent with your good sister and her children left you feeling refreshed, regardless of the foul feeling your conversation with Jaehaera elicited in you. If you were being quite honest, some of the women in court irked you, always meddling into other people’s business and treating others, including those of higher stations than them, as if lesser than. Lady Cassandra Baratheon was one of those women, so you didn’t feel a single drop of remorse about the advice you had given to your cousin, now niece.

The only thing about your day that had not been so enjoyable was the fact that your lord husband had skipped lunch. It wasn’t so much that his absence itself bothered you, although you did enjoy spending time in his company, it was just that at times he got so in his head that he often forgot to take care of himself. A few hours into the afternoon you had thought you had caught a glimpse of him in the outskirts of the garden but where you were expecting him to join the lot of you, he had completely vanished by the time you properly glanced his way. 

That was over a half hour ago, where you now strided towards your chambers to clean up for supper.

Or that would have been your plan, had you not been surprised by a warm body practically colliding into you the moment you crossed the threshold, one large hand tangling in your hair and the other snaking around your waist. Lips captured your own in a hungry, messy kiss, teeth clashing and a warm tongue brushing over your bottom lip and into your mouth.

“Ābrazȳrys, finally.” he moaned, pulling back only a fraction, just enough to look at you for a moment before connecting your lips again.

“V-Valzȳrys…” you tried speaking as he pulled you further into the room and pressed you even more against himself, closing the door behind you, but his kiss was relentless, his lips moving to your jaw and down your neck, titling your head to give him better access to your skin. 

It was then that you noticed the state of him: his hair down, a few messy strands out of place, the first few buttons of his doublet undone and something hard was poking your navel. Pulling back a bit, as much as his grip on you would allow, you noticed that his breeches were unlaced and pulled down slightly, his cock out, hard and glistening, which told you he had been tugging at it for at least a while now.

He pulled you back in, mouth latching against your shoulder as he sucked and nibbled on the skin.

“Aem…” it was when you felt his hands moving to your back, clawing at the laces of your dress, that you pulled back and held his cheeks in your hands, forcing him to keep his gaze on you “Aemond, what has gotten into you?”

He sighed then, leaning into your palms, before coming closer and leaning his forehead against yours.

“I am putting a child into your womb tonight, my love.” his warm fanning against your lips, his words making your heart skip a beat “I do not care how long it takes, ot how many times I have to fuck that sweet cunt of yours, my seed is taking root inside you tonight.”

It was your turn to kiss him desperately then, something primal fueling your actions. Something about the way he spoke, about what he spoke of, lit a fire in your stomach that pulsed in your core. He met you in the middle with equal fervor, his tongue tangling with yours as he resumed his task.

He turned you around then, pushing you towards the foot of the bed. His hands were a contrast with the way the rest of his body was moving, gently moving your hair out of the way so he could nibble on the skin of your exposed neck harshly. His other hand softly untangled the laces of your dress, all the while he grinded his exposed cock against your clothed ass.

“What brought this on, if I may ask?” you asked breathlessly, yet still curious about his behavior.

“Seeing you, with them,” he moaned and grinded into you more forcefully at the thought, and you could feel his cock twitch violently against your behind “I want that for us, for you.”

You softened then, a warm and fuzzy feeling taking over your heart. You wanted that too, as you had once told him, you wanted a family of your own, you wanted to share this with him. And it seemed he wanted it just the same. 

You couldn’t dwell on it for too long though, because soon enough your dress was loose enough for him to push it off your shoulders, the fabric pooling around your feet, quickly followed by your underclothes. You went to turn around but a pair of large hands on your waist stopped your movements. 

“Stay.” he whispered against your ear, and you could do nothing but nod.

The sound of heavy fabric rustling behind you let you know that his own clothes were being discarded, which was confirmed when you felt the entire plane of his naked chest pressed against your back, his heavy cock nestled on your ass as he wrapped both arms around your middle.

“Ñuha ābrazȳrys, ñuha dāria.” he spoke against the shell of your ear before nipping at your earlobe “Muña hen ñuha riñar.”

It made your heart clench and heat climb up your spine, a gush of something warm spreading between your thighs. 

His hands moved then, softly caressing your skin as they went before settling, one on your lower back and the other right between your shoulder blades. A light of pressure of his palms caused your knees to bend, hitting the soft mattress, your upper body bending at the waist as you placed your hands on the bed to help support your weight. He knelt behind you, gently rearranging you so you scooted further on up on the bed.

For a moment nothing happened and time seemed to pause around you. Nothing else mattered, nothing else existed besides the two of you in this very moment. 

Then you felt it, his hands holding your thighs as his hot breath tingled against your glistening folds before his tongue made contact with your cunt, licking a broad stripe against your folds. A whimper escaped your lips as his tongue circled your clit, moving back up and circling your entrance in the same manner, dipping only the very tip inside. His movements were slow yet sharp, precise, like he knew your body inside and out.

You whined, him mouthing at the entirety of your cunt, pulling your folds between his lips, before his lips latched onto your clit, sucking gently. Your arms started trembling, forcing you down to your stomach with your forearms flat on the mattress, his grip keeping your ass up. He plunged not one but two fingers inside you, eliciting a sharp cry from you as you tried to move away from him, though again his grip on your thighs wouldn’t let you. He waited a moment for you to adjust, one of his thumbs gently caressing your skin as he whispered sweet nothings in high valyrian, before slowly, very gently starting to move his fingers out of your cunt before pushing in again.

In a few moments he was clawing against your warm walls as if his life depended on it, probing, searching for that spot that made your mind spin and knocked the breath out of your chest. Hot molten pleasure was pooling in your stomach, spreading through your limbs and up your spine when the pads of his fingers brushed against it, sending a twinge of pleasure travelling all through your body. The mounting pressure in your navel kept growing and growing with each pass of his digits, making sweat drip from your brow and heat settle in your cheeks. 

A harsh tug of his lips, sucking harshly on your clit, was what sent you over the edge, the coil snapping and sending waves upon waves of pleasure through you, stealing your breath from your lungs. He barely gave you any time to think, though, the familiar sound of him sucking his fingers clean followed by his cock poking at your entrance. Then you felt two hands settling in each one of your shoulders, pulling you back towards him and onto his cock in one swift thrust, your previous release offering no resistance.

You moaned loudly, your ears ringing as he started pounding into you, his hands moving to your hips. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room as his hips met your ass repeatedly, your own loud whines and his groans and grunts the only other sounds you could make out.

The pleasure was quickly rebuilding, not having fully receded in the first place, but after a few moments he slowed down to a stop, a whine of disappointment ripping from your throat.

“No,” he panted, his own breath stilled “this will not do.”

Your disappointment was short lived however, as he quickly flipped your around, manhandling you on your back and pushing your knees to your chest. He hurriedly thrust inside your cunt again, positioning himself so your legs slotted perfectly over his shoulders and his chest was flush against your own, pushing down on you, before resuming his erratic pace.

It was dizzying, your head was spinning and you could barely catch the words he was speaking against your skin, both his hands cradling the sides of your face as his cock slipped in and out and in and out of you over and over.

“Ñuha dāria, sīr vok,” he groaned, pressing even further into you and, in turn, pressing you even more into the matress “kesā tepagon nyke hen riñar, kessa ao daor?” 

You could only nod, feeling that familiar pressure climbing and coiling ready to burst at any moment. At the same time, an immeasurable wave of love exploded from your heart at the thought, making you clench tightly around him, pulling a hiss from him.

“Tepagon ziry naejot nyke, pār.” his own voice was trembling, one of his hands leaving your face to circle your clit in short sharp circles “G-Give it to me and in turn I will give you however many babes you might want.”

You cried out, the coil of pressure snapping once more and making molten heat, scorching like dragon fire, filling your mind, waves of pleasure radiating from your core to every part of your body, taking over all your senses and enveloping your very being. He was quick to follow, thrusting sloppily into your cunt as his cock twitched violently, shooting ropes of his warm seed, painting your damp walls, his body collapsing over your own.

As you came to your senses you could feel him mouthing gently, almost lazily at the skin around your breast. When he noticed you staring at him he raised his head, his lips meeting your own in a sweet, soft peck.

“Avy jorrāelan, zaldrītsos.” he smiled tiredly, his whole face lighting up beautifully.

“Avy jorrāelan tolī, ñuha zaldrīzes.” you answered in kind.

After a few moments regaining your breath you pushed at his shoulder gently, so he could get off of you, but he wouldn’t budge.

“Where are you going, ābrazȳrys?” he jested, a mocking smirk taking over his features as he thrust his now softening cock shallowly into your cunt “I told you I would get you with child by the end of the night, and I intend on making good on my word.”

By the looks of it, you’d both end up missing supper that evening, as you were in for a long night

High Valyrian translations: - ābrazȳrys - wife - valzȳrys - husband - ñuha ābrazȳrys, ñuha dāria - my wife, my queen - muña hen ñuha riñar - mother of my children - ñuha dāria, sīr vok - my queen, so perfect - kesā tepagon nyke iā lot hen riñar, kessa ao daor? - you will give me a lot of children, will you not? - tepagon ziry naejot nyke, pār - give it to me, then

Tag List:

@callsignwidow

@sleephereicome

@bitchassgoose

@voguiing

@dibutw

@fruityvampslayer

@garden-in-the-rain

@queen-of-elves

@woodlandwrites

[wikiangela]

Hi, a bit late but joining in on the @alliwantforchristmasislou project 🫶

I decided to donate to a polish organisation called the stonewall group (which is why the pic is in polish lol)

chose this one just because im the most familiar with this one, and they do amazing work in support of lgbt+ people and fighting for our rights in this... not so queer-friendly country 🫶

now, ive been in the 911 fandom for almost 4 years now (gonna be 4 in i think February), and i only started after the episode Buck actually bc it was allll over my dash. i binged the whole show in a week, before the next episode is even aired, I loved it SO much.

as most of y'all know, I initially shipped buddie - it was the big ship, ofc i did, i wrote so much fic for them and i had so much fun and met so many moots i still love seeing on my dash 🫶❤️ but it might've been obvious (or not, idk) i was kinda getting bored and losing enjoyment, more and more of my fics and snippets were focusing on other characters with buck or eddie, i wasnt really as into it anymore - but i still loved it and wanted to enjoy it (which ironically was killed dead later on by the buddie fandom itself lmao)

and then came bucktommy and everything changed. initially i tried not to give in but within a few days i had two fics and more ideas lol they completely took over my thoughts. ive never been this inspired to write, to create, I even learned how to make gifs for them (with lots of help from amazing talented friends 🫶🤣) during fall and winter I always get so depressed and sad and having very dark and depressing thoughts (last year my buck driving fic was a result of that lol), and its so hard to find motivation to do anything, even write. but this year, even tho I had a lil crisis moment, i wrote through it and im as inspired as always - i havent stopped writing since april. they're literally the most inspiring ship ever - and fun fact, usually i prefer writing about fanon ships, so this was a huge change and surprise

I always related to buck a lot, and especially once we got his bisexuality canon - checking out and appreciating hot people of the same sex and not realizing what it means is too real lol - and Tommy is so compelling and theres so much potential for so many stories there, I wish the show would do something interesting with him 😭 despite being so confident and cool, he feels like he's holding back some sad, maybe (probably) traumatic backstory that could be so good and interesting - and lou is such a good actor and itd be amazing to see more from him in this role

they wrote tommy as the perfect love interest for buck, and it was amazing to see it on screen, it was such a breath of fresh air to see this kind of queer representation on a network show, it was so gentle and adorable, and they initially handled it with so much care, and id love to see where they'd go from there 😭 the break up broke my heart not only because it happened, but because it felt ooc and abrupt and not at all like that's where the story was going. wish they'd fix it and give us tommy back 😭🙏

and lastly but most importantly - thanks to bucktommy, i met so many amazing friends ❤️😭 even when I was writing fics and interacting with mutuals on here, i was never really talking to a lot of mutuals, not for longer than a few messages, and now i got this wonderful community that i feel so comfortable in, everyone is so nice and friendly, and I love y'all so much, this is the best fandom experience ive ever had ❤️

thank you all, ive been having so much fun since april, i love y'all. here's to more bucktommy in 2025 ❤️

[gainercontent]

Room to Grow Part 1: Bad Influences

Elliot had always been the skinny guy. At 23, he was tall and lean, with a metabolism that seemed to burn through food like it was nothing. He didn’t work out obsessively or follow any strict diet. It was just the way he was. His friends liked to joke that he could eat an entire pizza and still fit into his skinny jeans the next day, and for the most part, it was true. He liked being that way—easy, effortless, and always confident in his own skin.

When Elliot moved to the city for a new job, he quickly realized that finding an apartment he could afford on his own was next to impossible. After a couple of weeks, he found a shared apartment close to work and agreed to room with two guys, both of whom were a bit older than him. The rent was cheaper, and it seemed like a good deal.

The first time he met his new roommates, he was a little surprised. They were both big guys, especially compared to him. There was Ryan, with his thick arms and broad chest, wearing a band t-shirt and cargo shorts, and then there was Mark, who was tall but with a soft roundness to him that suggested he enjoyed a few too many late-night snacks. They both had warm, easy-going personalities that immediately put Elliot at ease. 

“Hey man, welcome!” Ryan said with a smile, slapping him on the back as they shook hands. 

Mark, with a lazy grin, handed him a plate of brownies. “We’ve got more where that came from,” he joked, “but don't feel obligated to eat them... unless you're hungry.”

Elliot laughed awkwardly, not sure what to say. He accepted a brownie and followed them inside. The apartment was cozy, decorated with posters of classic rock bands and sports teams. It was clear they had lived there for a while, and it felt like their space. Elliot tried not to think too hard about the size of the couch or the wide kitchen table that always seemed to be piled high with food containers.

Over the next few days, he got into a routine. He worked long hours and spent most evenings in his room, catching up on emails or watching shows online. He didn’t have a lot of time to get to know Ryan and Mark, but he did notice how much they loved to cook and eat together. It was always pizza night, or they’d whip up something hearty in the kitchen, from massive pots of spaghetti to giant meatloaves. 

Elliot, by contrast, usually grabbed something light—a salad or a protein bar—when he wasn’t too busy. He didn’t want to make a big deal of it. He’d politely decline when they offered him a plate of whatever they were eating, not wanting to come off as rude or judgmental. 

One night, after Ryan made his signature homemade lasagna, he turned to Elliot. “Hey, man, you’re gonna eat with us, right?”

Elliot froze. He had been about to grab a salad, but he didn’t want to seem like he was avoiding them. “Uh, I’m good. Thanks, though. I just ate earlier.”

Mark, who was lounging on the couch, raised an eyebrow. “You sure? This is *the* lasagna, Elliot. Don’t want you to miss out on it.”

Elliot smiled awkwardly. “I appreciate it, really. I just don’t eat as much as you guys, I guess.”

Ryan set down his fork and looked at him, his expression thoughtful. “Hey, I get it. But honestly, we’re not here to make you feel weird about it. We just like eating together, that’s all. You don’t have to stick to your salad thing just because of us. We’re not judging.”

Mark chimed in from the couch, “Yeah, man, we’ve got no problem with what you eat, but if you’re ever hungry, just join us. No pressure.”

Elliot felt a weird lump in his throat. He’d always been the guy who prided himself on being the one who didn’t care what anyone else thought. But in this moment, he realized he had been putting up walls—around his food choices, his routine, and even his relationships. He wasn’t just trying to avoid calories; he was isolating himself from them, from them as people.

The next weekend, Ryan and Mark invited him to join them for a “healthy cooking day.” Elliot was hesitant at first, unsure of what that meant in their world, but he agreed. They spent the afternoon trying new recipes—grilled chicken, roasted vegetables, and a huge smoothie bar. For once, Elliot wasn’t the only one watching his food intake. He felt like he wasn’t *on display* for his choices anymore. He was just another guy, chopping vegetables, chatting about movies, and trying to make something together.

As the evening came around, they all sat down with bowls of their homemade stir-fry, laughing about silly things from work and sharing stories about past roommates and cooking disasters.

“That was a lot better than I thought it’d be,” Elliot admitted, pushing his empty bowl aside. “I think I’ve just been so stuck in my own head, you know? About food, about what I *should* eat, what I *shouldn’t* eat.”

Ryan leaned back in his chair, nodding. “Yeah, man, I totally get it. It’s all about balance, right? We’ve both been there—stuck in cycles of eating out or trying to cut out everything. It’s about enjoying food and not obsessing over it.”

Mark added, “Exactly. And hey, if you want to keep things healthy, we’re all for it. We’re just trying to make it a little easier for everyone, right?”

Elliot smiled, feeling a weight lift off his shoulders. They weren’t just his roommates. They were his friends. They didn’t care about how he looked or what he ate. They just wanted to hang out and share good food, good company, and good times.

Over time, Elliot found that living with Ryan and Mark didn’t just teach him how to enjoy meals more freely, but also how to be more open. Their easy-going attitude about food, body image, and life in general started to rub off on him. He didn’t feel the need to be the skinny guy who had it all figured out. He could be himself—and sometimes, that meant indulging in a big meal, enjoying pizza without guilt, or laughing at a late-night snack with his roommates. 

They all grew in their own ways, together. And Elliot realized that, more than anything, this shared apartment was a space where they could be who they were, without judgment. It was a place to grow—not just in size, but in friendship.

At first, it was a struggle. Elliot had never really thought about how much he could eat. He had always maintained his slender frame with little effort, casually filling up on salads, protein shakes, and the occasional light meal. But living with Ryan and Mark was a different world. Their love for food wasn’t just about eating—it was about *enjoying* eating. And they had no problem eating a lot.

In the beginning, Elliot felt self-conscious when they invited him to join their meals. It wasn’t that he didn’t like the food—they made fantastic meals, hearty and flavorful—but his body had been trained to eat only a small amount at a time. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d eaten a full plate of something. Most evenings, after just a few bites of lasagna or grilled chicken, he felt uncomfortably full and wanted to stop. But Ryan and Mark always finished their plates, sometimes going back for seconds, and then settling in for snacks, chips, or bowls of ice cream.

“Come on, man,” Ryan would say, giving him a playful nudge. “You gotta try this. Just one more bite. Don’t let it go to waste.”

Mark would chuckle, adding, “You’re not gonna be hungry later. Might as well eat now while it’s here.”

The first few weeks were an odd dance for Elliot. He’d eat slowly, trying to keep up with them, feeling the discomfort of fullness hit earlier than usual. At first, he tried to maintain his usual restraint, convinced that he *had* to stop before he felt bloated. But Ryan and Mark, with their carefree attitudes, kept encouraging him to eat more, and each time, Elliot found himself taking just one more bite—then another, and another.

After a while, it became a pattern. There was always more food than anyone could eat in one sitting, so they’d end up watching TV with pizza boxes open on the coffee table, snacking mindlessly. Elliot’s stomach would be stretched to its limits, a dull ache growing in the pit of his stomach, but he found it hard to stop. It wasn’t just about the food anymore. It was the camaraderie, the way they bonded over meals, shared jokes, and never made him feel weird for not being able to keep up at first. 

At first, Elliot hated that feeling—being too full, sluggish, uncomfortable. He’d retire to his room, feeling like he was walking a fine line between fitting in and betraying his own body. But slowly, imperceptibly, something began to shift. His stomach seemed to adapt, expanding in small increments, slowly able to handle more. The next time they had pizza, he found himself reaching for a second slice without the usual hesitation. Then, on a random Tuesday night, he finished a whole plate of spaghetti—and didn’t feel as stuffed as he had before.

He noticed it during the weekends, when they would make their Sunday feast. Mark would fill the air fryer with fried foods, and Ryan would make pizza and a dessert. They’d eat together for hours, chatting, laughing, and passing around dishes, always encouraging each other to take more. It was normal for Mark to have three servings and Ryan to finish off the last of the food.

“You don’t have to keep up with us,” Ryan would say after seeing Elliot hesitate at the table. “But trust me, there’s no shame in enjoying a good meal.”

Elliot had been reluctant at first, but now he was starting to *enjoy* it, too. As much as he tried to fight it, his body began to crave the comfort of those big meals, the indulgent late-night snacks, and the feeling of sitting around with his roommates, chatting over bowls of chili or homemade pizza. He found himself going back for seconds more often. A third helping wasn’t out of the question anymore, and he no longer felt the need to rush to his room afterward to avoid being seen as weak for not finishing everything on his plate.

He also started noticing something he hadn’t expected: his body was changing. At first, it was subtle—an inch added to his waistline, his jeans feeling a bit tighter after a few weeks. But as the months went by, it became more apparent. His arms felt fuller, his stomach rounder, and he even noticed his face becoming a little softer. He wasn’t sure how it had happened, but the extra food—and the ease with which he now consumed it—had started to reflect in his body.

It wasn’t just the weight that was changing. His attitude toward food was shifting, too. Whereas he used to feel guilty for indulging, now he felt more comfortable with the idea of eating for pleasure. His conversations with Ryan and Mark had slowly shifted from just joking about food to serious discussions about eating for both enjoyment and balance. Mark would often tell him, “Don’t think of it as overeating. Think of it as living.”

One afternoon, after they’d spent hours preparing a massive barbecue spread, Elliot was leaning back in his chair, feeling pleasantly full for the first time in weeks. Ryan, who was lounging across from him, caught his eye and gave him a thumbs-up.

“Look at you, man,” Ryan said with a grin. “You’re finally eating like a normal person. Not bad.”

Elliot chuckled, rubbing his stomach. “Yeah, I guess I’ve gotten used to it. Still a bit of a stretch, but... not terrible.”

Mark, who was halfway through a third helping of ribs, laughed and wiped his mouth. “We told you. The more you eat, the more room you’ve got.”

It wasn’t just a physical change. Elliot began to feel more connected to Ryan and Mark. Food had become a bridge, a shared experience that didn’t have to be about calories or body image. It was about friendship, about enjoying the simple pleasure of a meal together and letting go of any anxiety about what or how much he ate. There were days when they all sat at the kitchen table long after dinner, talking and laughing until the food was gone, and he realized he was no longer counting the bites or trying to stop himself from eating too much.

One evening, as they were cleaning up after a particularly indulgent dinner of burgers and fries, Elliot noticed something that made him smile. For the first time, he wasn’t thinking about how full he felt or whether he should have stopped earlier. He was just enjoying the moment, grateful for the friends he had made and the space they’d created where he didn’t have to worry about measuring himself—or his food.

"You're gonna regret this tomorrow," Ryan teased, as Elliot helped clear the table.

Elliot smiled and shrugged. "Nah. I think I’m starting to get the hang of it."

And for the first time, he wasn’t just talking about eating. He was talking about life—letting go, being present, and allowing himself to be a part of something bigger than his own self-consciousness.

Over time, the changes to his body became more pronounced, but Elliot didn’t mind. The tightness around his stomach was no longer uncomfortable. It felt natural, like something that had just happened over time. And maybe it wasn’t about his physical transformation as much as it was about his acceptance of himself and his life with Ryan and Mark. It had always been about more than just food. It was about sharing, growing, and finding comfort in something simple but meaningful.

**New Chapter will be posted each Thursday** 

[liketolaugh-writes]

I'm confused about how you read that entire exchange and apparently did not absorb it but I think you maybe need to watch Danny Phantom again.

Yes. I am aware of all of those mentalities. I am aware that a large portion of the DPxDC fandom wants Danny to expect Superman to be Kon's parent (because apparently parenthood is something that can be forced on you and God forbid you feel violated.) I am aware of where Danny gets the grudges that people invent for him (a character that does not hold grudges against anyone except Vlad.) I am aware that there are multiple Flashes and that Danny is equally happy to insult all of them (because talking back to authority is a thing that Danny does. Ever. In his canon.) And I am well aware of how much of the DPxDC fandom likes to portray the Justice League as a bunch of idiots, which... is also not consistent with any of their canons and just, again, comes down to the chip-in-the-shoulder a lot of people seem to carry for heroes these days.

None of that is what I'm addressing. Fandom is built on headcanons and expanded universe, and it's great to build those things! It's great for them to build extra backstory to meld the two universes together, to fill out Danny's kind of flimsy canon, to have Danny already have opinions based on that backstory. You can write all these things if you want. I understand that people enjoy them, and DPxDC has a particularly mutated fanon that people have built over years now. People love these stories!

The part that I am illustrating is that the manner in which it's usually carried out is extremely unlike Danny. See above (far above) characterization notes. But especially, doubly so, for a Danny that grew up knowing and loving the Justice League for most of his childhood, before he had any reason to resent them.

Quite frankly, out of anyone, I would expect Danny - who routinely fights for a town that hated him for half the cartoon, and rescues people that have been cruel to him personally - to understand how terribly difficult it is to be a hero at all. To understand that they work hard to save people every day, that the Flashes time-traveled under great duress and out of pure desperation (as Danny usually does), and to understand that anyone who works around the clock to rescue people is, fundamentally, a good person even when they make mistakes or act out in anger. Repeatedly - with Valerie, with Dora, with Ghost Writer and Dash and Amorpho - Danny is shown to have an intense sense of empathy that lets him forgive people who have acted against him and are not sorry about it.

(And, personally, I think that Danny, having been cloned, would understand how violated Superman felt even if he doesn't agree with how he responded - but that's speculation, I suppose.)

And finally, while I understand the motives writers have for this portrayal (see, again, above notes about fandoms with sweet protagonists that take a lot of shit) the problem is that this vengeful behavior people want him to have is extremely out of character for a boy who:

Apologizes to Dash for something Dash doesn't even know he did (overshadowing him to stick his head in a trash can)

Goes to intentionally let his dad capture him because his dad was having a really bad day

Is the first to suggest a truce the moment he thinks an antagonistic character might be open to it (true of Valerie, Dash, all of his rogues, and occasionally even Vlad)

Once genuinely thought Jazz was beating him up out of anger and responded by apologizing and trying to convince her to calm down

Pretty much only ever just wants people to get along?

I also don't know why you assumed I was basing my entire opinion off drabbles and dialogue snippets, because... no? The stimulus for this entire post was in fact a fic of nearly 10k, which I stopped reading because I was so mortified that Danny kept insulting people that were actively helping him and being considerate and understanding? I don't even read drabbles outside of Tumblr. I prefer longfics, always, and I assure you that I still see all of this pretty regularly. I don't think I've once seen someone imply that Danny holding a grudge is unusual for him.

Why is Danny everyone’s mouthpiece for their random grudges against various superheroes? Why is it SO COMMON for Danny to show up and immediately start chewing people out?

Like. Danny? Mr. ‘My Parents Shoot At Me But It’s Fine’? Mr. ‘Dates The One Ghost Hunter At His School’? Danny ‘Dash Can Shove Me Around I Guess’ Fenton? Holds a bunch of grudges against popular superheroes and tries to punch them at the first available opportunity??

I know it’s become a pretty popular characterization in fandom for Danny to be pretty testy/spiteful, I just don’t really get it

[gatorbites-imagines]

Merry Christmas!!!!

so since it’s Christmas for me rn I was wondering if we could get some cute scenario with Tim drake, like him and his bf ending up under a mistletoe, or a snowball fight

I’m a sucker for fluff and just want some cute Christmas time!!!

Tim Drake x Hero male reader

Headcanons

I had iceman from the x-men on my mind as I wrote this. How was everyones holidays? Did yall get what you wanted? I got a weighted blanket, some books and kitchen stuff. I also got blasphemous 2, I’m not that good at it.

Having to patrol Christmas night was always a bummer, but crime never sleeps. In reality, crime got worse around these times of the year since people got so easily distracted and so many things were put inside stores.

Luckily for Tim, you were invited to the manor for the holidays this year since you guys have been dating for a while. Last year Tim celebrated with your family, so now you were joining his.

This also meant you joined up for patrol, meaning the bats had a whole new surprise in their arsenal, seeing as you could control ice, cold, water, so on and so forth.

It made dealing with criminals easy, since none of the rogues were out and about. Two-face, killer croc and Firefry apparently weren’t in Arkham, but they all seemed to be more focused on the actual holidays than crime. This just left you guys with some everyday criminals.

For you and Tim, this patrol felt more like a date than anything else. Apparently, Red Robin dating one of the known heroes from another city was enough to make the people you passed feel giddy.

You had been staying with the Waynes for the whole week leading up to the holidays, so you had patrolled for just as long. This also gave the Gotham citizens enough time to set up mistletoes and little goody bags wherever you guys were patrolling.

How the hell did the locals even get a mistletoe all the way up on a specific gargoyle you two liked to sit under as you enjoyed your hot chocolate? Gotham locals scared you sometimes with how determined they were, but it did make Tim blush, if only a little.

Later on, hed blame it on how cold it was, and the fact that you were pretty much made of ice when using your powers. It didn’t stop you from giving him a small peck though, even though it leaves his lips completely pink, and his face flushed from the cold.

You end up getting scolded by some of the Gotham locals. Theres no real heat behind it. It’s more the fact that they didn’t know you were coming, so none of them prepared gifts for you.

The bats never asked for gifts, but you learn they always get some from the locals, even if they try to turn them away. You think its pretty damn neat, and you damn near cry when an older lady gifts you a scarf she stayed up all night to make. It’s even got your blues and Tims reds, since you guys are very obvious.

When crimes are as low as it can get in Gotham, you spend time making sculptures around town with your powers. Most of them are of the bats, and yeah, there’s about twice as many of Tim as everyone else. You never go into enough detail for their identities to be obvious, but it’s just your way of bonding with the city.

With Gotham having the weather it does, the snow also tends to be pretty damn sucky. Luckily for them, your powers are very useful in turning it into nice white snow, perfect for snowmen and snowballs.

Some people are weary of you because of Freeze, but seeing you hang around the bats gets people outdoors. You being as friendly as you are, supplying people with snowballs into their hands, also helps.

None of the bats are really the type to just come down and play in the snow like you, throwing snowballs after some of them does help. Soon Nightwing, Spoiler and Signal are mixed into the snow fight.

The others are too serious or weary to just let loose. You know the other bats are as vigilant as the ones watching from the roofs, so are you, but you do wish your boyfriend would join.

You get him back later by shoving snow down the back of his suit when he isn’t paying attention to you. Tim can’t get you back since you’re pretty much made of ice, but he gets you back one way of another.

The holidays with the Bats is a whole experience, since they come from so many cultures. Theres so many different traditions and food, and its all worked into the celebration somehow.

Even a couple of your own traditions are worked into the celebration, if there’s anything specific your family does during the holidays, that Tim picked up last year.

You guys all get together to watch a movie together as well, even if some of the bats argue and throw some punches. The normal animosity between some of them is put away for the day, if there is any. But with a family that size you wouldn’t be shocked if someone was arguing.

You and Tim cuddle during the movie, of course, and you’re also wearing matching Christmas sweaters. They’re Green Lantern themed, and you note that none of the family members are wearing Batman shirts. Later you learn that this is one of their traditions, since Bruce one year got broody about it. Now he joins the tradition by wearing a superman sweater.

Theres mistletoes all over the manor, mainly because of you and Tim, and whoever else is brought to the manor as a romantic partner if there are any.

Tim is not the most comfortable with kissing in front of his whole family, so instead it just becomes pecks on the cheek. You end up freezing Jason’s tea right in his mug after he makes enough jokes about it.

In the morning you and Tim share gifts in his room, just the ones meant for you two, before you guys go down to join the others, in matching pajamas, obviously.

Before you guys leave Tims room he gives you a kiss that’s almost enough to make you melt, as payback for the snow in his suit. You don’t mind too much, even if some of his family joke about your red face and how smug Tim looks.

[writingbluerose]

HAPPY HOLIDAYS !! | twst x reader

summary : being in another world you never got to spend Christmas with anyone, lucky for you, your family is always here to help

warnings : none :3 ; reader is Yuu and she's girl!

a / n : I'm super busy with my family on holidays so I'm giving you this short story because y'all deserve it! Also this may be a Skully x reader if you squit your eyes.

MERRY CHRISTMAS !!

You could hear the fire cackling in the fireplace bear you. Outside the Ramshackle dorm, the snow was slowly falling from the grey sky, no sun in sight. Everyone left for the holidays, which left you all alone in the campus once again, but this time there was no overblot in sight.

After a while, you caught with the corner of your eye how Grim jumped on the couch, setting himself on th spot next to you. “Why so blue henchhuman? Everyone finally left and we got the campus to ourselves!” You sighed and gave the cat a small smile. “Oh don't get me wrong Grim, I do enjoy the silence, but I'm kinda sad I don't get to celebrate Christmas with anyone you know?” At your statement, the grey cat gave you a confused look. “Christmas? What's that?” Oh yeah, you almost forgot people here don't know anything about that. You looked at the confused cat again and smiled at him. “That's nothing, don't mind me and my silly thoughts alright?” Grim knew you didn't mean a word you just said, he looked down in thought then raised his head again. “If you say so! I'm going to search for some tuna cans to eat!” He jumped excitedly off the couch and made his way to the kitchen. You let out a laugh and moved your attention to the white landscape outside the window.

Without you noticing, a faint glow appeared on the wall behind you. The portrait which was glowing turned fully white, signaling the one in it got out. You felt two hands on your shoulders and a happy laugh. You knew who that was without even looking. “I for one would love to hear more about Christmas! It sounds like an amazing holiday!” You turned to gaze to the boy behind you, two orange eyes looking excitedly into yours. “It's nothing too special Skully. It's just a simple holiday from back home” “Tell me, tell me! I'm curious now my dear!” You laughed at him and gave him a smile. “Well if you insist, the alright” Skully sat on the spot next to you with his hands on his knees waiting for your tale. “Well, it's practically like this...”

“That's amazing! I never knew you had such an amazing holiday and such amazing traditions! I'll be more than happy to celebrate Christmas with you my dear!” “Oh no no! There's really no need Skully! I mean we don't even have all the things for it, and it's practically tomorrow! We really don't need to- ” Skully grabbed your hands and moved closer to you with one of the biggest smiles he's capable of “I insist! We'll have the best Christmas party ever! I promise you!” Before you tried convincing him otherwise the other ghosts came back in the lounge. “What's this about a party we're hearing? We want to join in too” “Ah perfect! Listen to me my friends!” And so Skully proceeded to tell the ghosts everything about you just told him. You were staying on the couch still, with your face buried in your hands. How did it come to this? “So you see! It's important for our dear Y/N to have the best Christmas party ever!” The ghosts looked at each other and then smiled brightly at you. “We'll be honored to help! Miss Y/N is family! So her happiness is ours! You can count on us Mr. Skully!” “Amazing then!” While discussing their plans, Grum couldn't come at a worse time. Getting Grim to, it seems that now it was impossible for you to stop anymore.

You were outside your dorm, sitting in the snow. Skully and the others rushed you out of the dorm to make preparations for the party, the ghosts had gone out of their way to even find a Christmas tree for you, you suppose they decorated it since it kinda took them quite long to prepare everything, you were out for almost 5 hours after all. In that time you paid a visit to Mostro Lounge, the Octavinelle boys were more than happy to accompany you while eating, surprisingly, the food was on the house. After a while of staying there, you came back to take strolls outside your dorm, taking th same steps you usually take with Malleus when he comes by. After some time, you heard Grim's voice calling you from the entrance door. “Y/N! We're done! Come on fast!” You made your way inside and you couldn't believe your eyes. Everything, from top to bottom was covered in decorations, red, gold and some occasional black as the color of the dorm. “What...how did you even do this? Where did you get all this from?! You even decorated the Christmas Tree! With a start too! Wh-how...?” Skully came and hugged you tight, happy with your reaction. “See? We told you we would make the perfect party for you!” “Yeah! We even stole from the school's kitchen to make the food! And it's super tasty by the way!” Grim jumped on your shoulder giving you a wife grin. “Now come on come on! Let's get this party started!” Skully and the ghosts went and grabbed the food to set them on a table in the lounge and urged you to eat. Never in all the time you were here were you this happy.

The party ended some time ago. You were staying with Skully under his portrait, his hand holding yours. “Can't believe you made all this for me Skully” He looked at you with a smile. You almost forgot how he looked with his black glasses on his eyes, but his orange eyes never failed to amaze you. “Of course my dear friend! Always! This house is your home, and the others are your family! I just did what I needed to, for you. I have to thank you for staying with me for so long after all” He raised the back of your hand to his mouth and kissed it, keeping his lips there for a while longer. You looked at him and smiled, lowering your head on his shoulder, his head coming to rest on yours. “Thank you, Skully” He smiled. “You're welcome my dear, and, Merry Christmas” Your smile got wider as you answered him in a whisper. “Yes, Merry Christmas to you too”

You think that, after all, that you're grateful for what you've gotten when you came here.

[theartofwoompwoomp]

Hello? Would it be OK for a (female) human child who basically adopted Shadow as her’s(parent)

You know this is a very interesting idea. Mainly because it implies that the human could have chosen anyone as their parental guardian, yet they choose Shadow known for being the edgelord lol

Me????

shadow x humanchild!reader (platonic)

————————————————————————

Now when the whole sonic crew had asked who you wanted to stay with for the night no one was expecting you to choose Shadow.

heck, not even Shadow could believe it. Not that he let it show on his face, but he knew kids didn’t really like him. Most of them got scared and avoided him or would start crying.

but you,… you were practically glowing and cheering in excitement when he agreed.

he just couldn’t say no to you.

he knew children could be impulsive with their decisions, but you where dead set on staying with him. And no one opposed, some because they knew he’s lived with humans before, others because that’s what you wanted.

Regardless you were very happy to be with him.

As he was leading you towards his bike he hadn’t realized you didn’t have the gear to join him in the first place. 

And not wanting to risk you falling off, he decided to just teleport the both of you.

As he went to pick you up, you latched yourself tight small giggles escaping you, “ha, I caught you.”

Your childishness bringing a small smile on his face. “Hmm, so it seems.” Your own giggles intensifying at his reaction. You didn’t know why, but he made you feel safe.

Following his instructions to close your eyes, feeling as skin got cold, you gripped a bit tighter as everything got lighter.

Once you felt gravity again your head felt a little drowsy.

His hand hovering over your forehead helping it stay in place. You had passed out. The teleportation taking a toll on your small body. He wasn’t sure how to care for you exactly, but he knew a good start was food.

After setting you down on the couch he headed towards the kitchen. Opening an old recipe book Vanilla gave him. Scanning the pages he choose one that you might like. 

A smell hit your nose, whatever it was it smelled delicious. The scent feeling familiar as your eyes fluttered open. 

You were in a living room, no one was there but you could hear someone in the next room.

As you crept closer the scent got stronger. Hunger was also making itself evident the longer you sniffed the air.

“Oh, you’re awake.”

Jolting in place, you twist your head and see him. He had some cooking utensil in his hand. “I made some food, do you want some?”

He was gentle with his words, making sure to be patient for your response. 

At first he was worried when he saw you walking around. You were calm but so tense, almost as if you were afraid. But as he waited, he saw your worries slip from your face as smile stretched and your eyes twinkle.

You were practically jumping off your tiny feet when he mentioned food. Having everything set you both sat down to eat. 

At some point you did ask why he eats the smelly beans without cooking them, and he simply responded he’s always eaten them like that. 

when he got up to pick everything up, you shoved a handful of those smelly beans before he could stop you. “Wait— those aren’t for kids,” it was too late. you had eaten some of it, and spit out the rest.

Your face red as you gagged trying to get rid of the taste made him chuckle. He had forgotten how impulsive children could be. 

The next few hours went flying. Y’all had tried some games you knew: tag, hide-in-seek, and princess and dragons. He was the princess lol. All in all, he enjoyed the pure joy you brought in the little things.

Usually anger and a strange emptiness was the primary emotions he always felt. Which is why he’s surprised at the peace your presence brings him. It makes him want to be silly just to see your smile and giggles. 

You were definitely growing on him.

As he made sure you were tuck in bed your voice whispered through the air, “Shadow, thank you for choosing me.” 

…Choosing you?

If anything you had chosen him. Your eyes were already closing but he didn’t want to leave it at that. 

“Kid, Im the one that should be thanking you.”

And with that your soft breaths filled the room. He may have only met you recently, but in that short time you managed to give him a purpose.

You needed him, and he needs you. 

He’s not a perfect guardian, but maybe, just maybe, he can learn for you.

———————————————————————

Masterlist 

This took awhile to make but thank you soo much for the request ! 

[altxrrmelancholy]

Cherry Lemons pt.2

Tags: attempt at angst, yet another argument (a minor one though), Yunho, Min, Woo and Yeo for moral support, sfw, matz moment.

Wc: I wasn't even counting...

Note: ik I have several works pending, but this was long overdue. I deserve punishment for making some of you wait. I'm sorry 🙁. Anyway, enjoy!

Make sure to read part one first!

It was crispy outside, so cold. The leaves outside the house had covered almost all the grass that there was barely any green left. There were dark clouds constantly throughout the day. Times like these are when students dread going to class. They would sit through lectures and wish they were somewhere else instead. The lecturers had probably noticed since the classes for the particular semester were also very little. This meant that students could barely be seen on campus if it isn't class time. There were definitely pros and cons to the weather.

The outside was not the only place that was noticeably cold.

Ever since the stunt outside the house, everybody seemed to be walking on eggshells around Hongjoong and Seonghwa. In a normal setting, these two got along. As the two oldest in the house, they were closer to each other than any other person in there. Now Seonghwa spent nearly all day in his room if he was in the house as Hongjoong seemed to avoid any place graced by his- erm...best friend? Whenever they were in the same room, the atmosphere was painfully awkward. None of the other boys knew if the two knew that they were ruining everyone's mood. Were they gonna talk to them though? Not a chance.

.

.

Now Seonghwa knew it was pretty shameless of him to keep calling all the time because they usually went to voicemail anyway.

He screwed up. Big time. At least he knew that.

He also didn't have the courage to go over to your dorm room and apologize. He didn't know where to start. One would think that the two weeks that passed ever since that night would give him enough time to formulate an apology, what he would say to you when he saw you, if he did.

What did he even plan to say, if by sheer luck, you did pick up one of his calls? I'm sorry, forgive me, I miss us please give us a chance? By nature, you were a nice person, especially to the people you cared about. He could at the moment imagine, as he lay on his pillow with his eyes closed, that he was laying on your chest like he used to do.

He would look up at his beautiful delusion, and you would look down at him and smile, admiring his eyes.

I'm sorry, he would say. I really care about you and would never intentionally hurt you. You know that, right?

And you would smile. I know. You don't need to apologize. And he would wrap both his hands around you and squeeze you so tight that he could feel both your hearts beat in sync.

That would be after he, of course, fucked you into the mattress as you laughed with each other about how crazy it was that you were actually sleeping with each other. He never really knew at what point he started developing actual feelings for you. At first, the two of you were friends with benefits. Maybe he always had feelings for you? He didn't want to dwell in that.

Seonghwa has spent many days imagining scenarios like that. He frowns as he realizes that he is not actually laying on your chest. And that his pillow was cold, and your scent gone.

This is the nth day in a row, Hwa. He dragged his tired eyes to you as you stood over him beside his bed, his T-shirt on your frame. He never allowed you to wear his clothes. He almost felt like crying. Why didn't he allow you to wear his clothes?

"I'm sorry." He said still staring at you.

I know. Now go and eat, please-

"I'm sorry for calling you a bitch. I know I hurt your feelings." You looked at him in confusion. "I'm so, so sorry Y/n. I didn't mean any-"

A knock on the door. Whoever that was stepped in. Mingi.

"Hey, Seonghwa?" He whispered hesitantly as he saw the man on his bed. "Yunho, Woo and I were gonna go get dinner. Come with us?"

It was dinner time?

It's not like he intentionally refused to eat. He just couldn't eat a full meal. His diet lately consisted of snacks that he would sneak out from the kitchen when he was sure Hongjoong wasn't in the house, or in his room. And then he would hurry back to his and close the door softly, like he never left. He should eat though. He loved food.

He nodded weakly at Mingi as he got up. "I'll be down in a second." Mingi shrugged and shut the door a little too hard, prompting a wince from Seonghwa. He looked to his left to hopefully continue apologizing to you, but you were already long gone.

.

.

Since you shared a major with Yeosang, one of Seonghwa's housemates, he was helping you with a few classes that you seemed to struggle with. It's not like they were difficult or anything, you just couldn't bring yourself to study efficiently lately.

"You think you can do the entire paper on your own now?" He said as he gave you your study books over the condiments on the table.

"Sure. I mean, we have been studying, right?" You said as you packed your books and tied your hair so you could eat. Yeosang was surprisingly good company. Considering he started talking to you after the night you were driven home with your tail between your legs. You thought he only started talking to you because he felt pity for you, but nothing about him has ever popped up. Whether he was pretending or not, you didn't know.

As you both were eating, of course, nothing was going right for you this semester. You dropped your fork on the floor as you were absentmindedly staring at your food, causing a bit of spillage. "Shit."

"Oh. No worries. I'll get another for you." He says, standing.

"Thanks, Yeosang." And just as you were about to pick yours from the floor, someone else beat you to it.

"Here you g- Y/n?" You looked at the source of the voice and could see Yunho crouching down beside you. Lo and behold, behind him was Seonghwa. He was staring at you with his eyes wide, his hands around his arms. Why wasn't he wearing a jacket? It's so cold.

But of course that wasn't the most prevalent thing in your mind. But did he look different. You couldn't tell what exactly was different about him. His aura was not the usual confident one he had. Come to think of it, you don't recall hearing his bike around campus these days. Did his hair grow longer? You had to get out of here.

"Y/n? I got your fork. Oh. hey." Yeosang was aware of Seonghwa's presence and suddenly everybody was waiting for anyone to say something. Mingi and Woo were holding each other's arms behind Seonghwa while staring back and forth at everyone. Yunho stood up finally, ready to hold anyone back in case something happened, in this very public diner.

Seonghwa glanced at Yeosang. What was he doing here with you? He didn't remember the two of you being close at all. He heard the sudden scrape of a chair on the floor and watched you pack your bag.

"Yeosang, I'll call you later, okay?" You didn't even give him a chance to answer as you had already started walking away, zipping up your jacket. Seonghwa couldn't allow this to happen. He watched you walk away that night, and he couldn't allow that to happen again.

"Y/n, wait." He walked after you. Yunho was quick to hold him back. "Just let her go, man."

He pushed Yunho out of his way, hard, and ran outside after you.

"Shit, guys. Let's go." Mingi and Wooyoung who were just looking at the drama unfold ran outside after him, Yeosang on their track.

"Y/n? Y/n please stop, I need-"

"What!" Your eyes were starting to turn red as you faced your- what, now ex-boyfriend?

"What do you want, Seonghwa?!" You were now standing in an alleyway, and it was dark. Reminiscent of that night.

"I-I..." His heart was racing. What, again, was he supposed to say? "I'm sorry."

You blinked. That was it?

You scoffed and turned around to head back to your dorm room, but Seonghwa's sudden grip on your arm prevented that.

"I'm trying to gather the words, Y/n. Please, I know I hurt you but could you please be civil for a moment and listen to me?" He wasn't even arguing, the words came out almost a murmur. His eyes were filled with desperation and he was shivering slightly from the cold. It didn't mean you were having it though.

"Civil? Seonghwa, you spent weeks tearing me apart emotionally and now you want civility?" You were also almost whispering, you words sounding harsh.

"I-I want to make things right, I-"

"Let's not forget your little habit of shutting me out whenever I tried to talk about anything important. Are those the words you're having trouble gathering?"

"Maybe I shut you out because every conversation felt like walking through a minefield!" No, no, no, what happened to making things right?

You walked towards him and stood right in front of him, so close, that you could count his eyelashes. "A minefield that you created." You whispered. His eyes turned soft. "There's no way we can go back to how things were, Seonghwa."

He was almost kneeling. "I'm really sorry, y/n. I didn't mean anything I've ever said that hurt you. Please let me try and make it up to you." He looked at you, waiting for something positive, because again, that's who you were.

"Is it the sex?" His eyebrows furrowed.

"What...?"

"Do you just miss having sex with me?" You said, your voice wavering.

"What? Y/n, no-"

"Why then should we get back together if we're just gonna fight all the time? Or are you afraid that this time, someone is walking away from you instead of the other way around, huh?" Seonghwa didn't know what to say. Wasn't it supposed to be easy? Apologize and then the two of you could move on together? He felt himself panicking. No, it can't happen like this. Without even using the little braincells he had when it came to you, he leaned forward and captured your lips in his. You missed this so much that you just gave in to him immediately. The kiss was slow and passionate, unlike the last one.

"Uuumm, so, did they make up?" Wooyoung whispered from where they stood hiding, peeping at the two of you comically like a bunch of cartoon characters.

"I don't think so? They're crying." Yunho whispered.

"That could also be tears of joy, you know." Woo turned to look at Yunho. But nobody had any right to say anything about this topic so they just went silent and continued watching. You know, in case a fight broke out.

You took Seonghwa's cheek into your hand and he circled your waist in his. He was briefly happy, although he was starting to feel that this was probably not the first of many kisses from then on.

You pulled back and stared at him. You shook your head, tears still shining in your eyes. "I'm sorry, Seonghwa."

"No. No, don't apologize-"

"Just sort yourself out, okay? I can't do this with you anymore. Please, don't look for me."

"Baby, please, I'm so sorry-" He tried grabbing at your waist as you began to walk backwards.

"I know."

And then you left. You just walked away the second time. You were tired and needed rest from this all. Even as you walked away, sobbing with a very heavy heart, not sure if you wanted to do this, you were sure that you didn't want to be tired anymore.

Seonghwa just stood there staring at the void. He had fucked up. His feelings for you didn't save him. What was easy about this was that he had easily hurt you. You probably forgave him, which he didn't know, but you were not going to get back with him. Because he did that. He hurt someone he cared about. Someone he was happy with. And why? He couldn't even tell. Was he not ready for a relationship? Or was it actually just the mind-blowing sex? Either way, it didn't matter. He should have just chased after you that night.

"Seonghwa?" He felt two people beside him grabbing his arms. He looked toward his left to Yunho who had called him, he couldn't even see him well because of his hair and the tears.

"Yes, Yunho?" And his friends felt their hearts break at that. They dragged him out of there to their house, forgoing dinner and quietly agreeing to just eat at home. And there was a void within Seonghwa, multiplying the more he took a step out of that alley.

.

.

Hongjoong entered his best friend's room to find him on the bed, his back turned from the door. He realized how skinny he had gotten from his silhouette in the very dark room. Hongjoong didn't even know that his feelings were this strong, enough to have him bedridden most days. He just thought that he was always in his room because they were busy ignoring each other.

"Hwa?" He whispered.

Seonghwa almost cried. The only other person who called him that aside from you.

Hongjoong hesitantly sat on his bed as Seonghwa shifted to look at him. Thank goodness the lights were off. If he had red eyes, he didn't want his friend to see them.

"Are you good?" He asked, as stern as usual. Seonghwa shifted to lay his head on Hongjoong's lap.

"She just left." He choked out, with the last of his strength of the day.

He dragged his hand through his hair. He felt really bad for his friend. And although he was still mad at him, he couldn't have just left him after what he was told by Yunho earlier. So he made himself comfortable on the bed as he heard his best friend sniff over and over again.

"I'm tired."

"I know, Hwa."

.

.

That night, Hongjoong ended up spending the night in Seonghwa's room.

.

.

Note (again) : feedback would be appreciated. Don't forget to reblog!

[castdust]

under the mistletoe.

✩ pairing : manon bannerman x annoyed!reader

✩ about : going to a party and just sitting alone was just the goal for tonight’s party, but kissing someone wasn’t really your destined plan for tonight.

✩ genre : fluff

✩ a/n : this shit be cute asf | 993 words

♫ playing : mistletoe by justin bieber

It was one of those parties that Y/N didn’t really want to go to but found herself attending anyway. The kind of party where laughter echoed through the room, and strangers brushed past each other with quick smiles. Y/N glanced around the living room, lit with warm yellow string lights and adorned with ornaments that shimmered under the soft glow. The scent of pine mixed with the aroma of freshly baked cookies, and the muffled sound of a cheesy Christmas playlist filled the space.

She nursed a glass of eggnog and found a corner to retreat to. Being surrounded by unfamiliar faces wasn’t her ideal way of spending Christmas, but with her family miles away, it beat sitting alone in her apartment, scrolling through social media and feeling sorry for herself.

And then, Manon happened.

“Hey! You’re the quiet one, right?”

Y/N blinked, looking up to see a girl with long haired curls bouncing as she approached. She had a bright smile that somehow made her look both approachable and intimidating. She wore a red sweater with a cartoon reindeer and had a plate of cookies in one hand.

“Uh, yeah. Hi.” Y/N sipped her eggnog, hoping it would signal she wasn’t in the mood for a conversation.

Manon didn’t get the memo. She plopped herself onto the armrest of the couch Y/N was sitting on, nibbling a sugar cookie.

“I’ve seen you at this party every year,” Manon said, leaning closer. “Why do I always see you here? You never talk to anyone, and you’re always just… there.”

“Because I don’t have anywhere else to go,” Y/N said, her tone blunt. She immediately felt guilty, seeing Manon’s smile falter for a split second.

But then Manon’s grin returned, wider this time. “Well, then! Good thing you came! I’m Manon, by the way. What’s your name?”

“Y/N,” she replied hesitantly.

“Y/N,” Manon repeated, testing the name on her tongue. “Cute. Anyway, since you’re here, why not make the most of it? You should mingle! Or at least try one of these cookies. They’re amazing.” She held the plate out to Y/N.

Y/N shook her head. “I’m good, thanks.”

Manon didn’t seem fazed. “Suit yourself. So, what do you do, Y/N? Like, for work. Or fun. Or life.”

Y/N sighed internally.

This girl talked too much.

“I’m a graphic designer,” she said, keeping her answer short.

Manon’s eyes lit up. “Oh, cool! Do you make logos and stuff? Or is it like posters? My cousin’s friend is a graphic designer, and she—”

Y/N tuned out after the first sentence. Manon was still talking, her words flowing like an endless stream, and Y/N found herself growing increasingly irritated. Why did people feel the need to fill every silence with chatter?

“…and that’s how I accidentally set my toaster on fire last month,” Manon finished, laughing at her own story.

Y/N blinked. “What?”

“Never mind,” Manon said, waving it off. “The point is, you should come out of your little corner and actually enjoy the party. Life’s too short to sulk, especially on Christmas.”

“I’m not sulking,” Y/N muttered, crossing her arms.

“Sure you’re not,” Manon teased, nudging her playfully.

Before Y/N could respond, a new voice interrupted them.

“Well, well, look who’s finally socializing!”

Both girls turned to see Lara, the party host, walking over with a knowing smirk. Lara was tall, with sleek black hair and an effortless elegance that made her the center of attention in any room.

“Y/N, you’re talking to someone?” Lara teased. “This is a Christmas miracle!”

“Ha, ha,” Y/N deadpanned.

“Don’t give her too much credit,” Manon said with a grin. “I’m the one doing all the talking.”

“Of course you are,” Lara said, rolling her eyes fondly. Then she pointed upward. “By the way, you two know you’re standing under the mistletoe, right?”

Y/N froze. Her eyes darted up, and sure enough, there was a sprig of mistletoe hanging from the doorway above them.

“Oh,” Manon said, blinking. Her grin turned sly. “Well, you know the tradition.”

“Nope,” Y/N said immediately, stepping back.

“Oh, come on!” Manon said, laughing. “It’s bad luck to ignore it!”

“That’s not a real thing,” Y/N said, her cheeks burning.

“Actually, it is,” Lara chimed in, her smirk widening. “You don’t want to tempt fate, do you?”

Y/N glared at her. “You’re not helping.”

Manon stepped closer, her playful expression softening. “Relax, it’s just a kiss. We don’t have to if you’re uncomfortable.”

For some reason, that made Y/N pause. Manon was annoying, sure, but there was a kindness in her eyes now that made Y/N’s heart skip a beat.

“Fine,” Y/N muttered, looking anywhere but at Manon. “Let’s just get it over with.”

Manon’s smile returned, and it was somehow both mischievous and gentle. “Alright, then. Come here.”

Before Y/N could overthink it, Manon leaned in. Their lips met in a soft, fleeting kiss, and for a moment, the noise of the party faded into the background. Y/N’s heart raced, but it wasn’t unpleasant. In fact, she felt… warm.

When they pulled apart, Manon grinned. “See? That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

Y/N’s face was on fire. “Whatever.”

Lara burst out laughing. “You two are adorable. I’m gonna leave you to it.” She winked and walked away, leaving Y/N and Manon alone.

There was a brief, awkward silence before Manon spoke again.

“So… you wanna grab some cookies and keep talking? Or was that kiss too much excitement for one night?”

Y/N rolled her eyes but couldn’t help the small smile tugging at her lips. “Fine. But no more weird stories about your toaster.”

Manon laughed, a bright, genuine sound that made Y/N’s chest feel lighter. “Deal. Let’s go.”

And just like that, the night didn’t seem so bad anymore.

[m3vl0vesu]

~

A/N: Soooo hi. I’m alive!! Anyway this is a oneshot(?) about…idrk but you’ve lost most of your memories and Nayvee was your hero name/what people used to call you. I started writing it at exactly 9pm on the 26th of december. Also reading back on my old writing, people liked that? Anyways, enjoy!! Tw angst and mentions of scars, mentions of abuse, nothing to gritty :) Gender neutral reader and racially ambiguous ;) oh and don't copy plwase

Every window was slightly open, just enough to make the whole apartment cold. There was even a cold mist from under the door, hitting the sides of your arms. It stung. So cold you could almost see your cats slow breaths, well it was really a random stray but with so little to call yours why not hang on to a silly kitty?

The only bit of warmth was the cigarette in your hand, the small thing filled up your lungs. Made your heart beat with guilt and longing, it felt so good. Good but so bad. It was the only light in your life, the burning cigarette butt and the flame used to light it. It was a pathetic life, but it was yours. A person behind the screen, fixing other people's problems and slip ups, an eraser that’s what you were. Erasing people's lives just as people erased yours. Every impact, every solution, every person saved and every person killed because of you, gone. Like it was completely nothing, like every scar on your back and every scar on your arms were worth nothing. A body full of stories but stories that shall sadly never be heard. It was almost peaceful, it’s not like you really wanted to remember anyway, but the option would’ve been nice. 

It hurts your head. It always hurts, filled with constant screams and pleads of help. Words of anger and authority, that one you did remember. You remembered all of it, down to the slurred praise and constant cussing. A voice that had been whispering to you since you were all but an embryo, a voice that you watched fade. Here it became rougher with every puff, every packet seemed to be gone within days. 

No wonder, now you understand. All that begging and crying just to wound up enjoying the same cruel substances.

Your peaceful tappink of keys was sadly interrupted. It was almost routinely, the pixels on your laptop would display 23:25 and you would hear it. The squeaking of the window in the kitchen, and then a heavy thud followed after. It would bring in a large gush of wind, and the rotten smell of gotham roads, made it all the better to have a cigarette in between your lips. Soon you’d hear a man, the man. The man with the heavy kevlar suit and the cape. Oh you hated that cape, the way it sounded when it dragged across your kitchen tiles made you want to scratch your eyes out. Every footstep closer towards you felt like a warning, like a threat. His whole presence towards you was a threat, one step out of line, one sentence dubbed too insane and you're done. Everything stripped away as quick as your memory was.

“Well you're as punctual as ever, aren’t you Bruce?” It felt wrong, just uttering his name like you knew him.

Maybe Nayvee knew him, but you? This fucked up version of you? No recollection of this man, not even of his public persona. You only knew the Dark Knight, and not the one that saved babies from some underground crime, no. You knew the one that would stand over a suffering body and not give them the pleasure of death, he taunted you waiting for it. Waiting for the ticking bomb to finally explode. It felt like he was just visiting to find a reason to get rid of you. It was always the guessing game with this man. Then again he was the only one of your so-called friends to visit. 

“...” and it was nothing from him. Just brooding silence and the occasional huff and sigh. He was different today, less tense. His fists were less clenched and his shoulders less tense, it wasn’t a scowl or a watchful eye-not that you could see his eyes- on his face but it was just a neutral expression. Or more of a neutral feeling, that cowl sure did its job.

“Good day today, B? No crime I’m guessing or-”

“There’s always crime in Gotham.” Well no shit. He knew what you meant, or maybe he didn’t. Maybe his armour is just as thick as his skull, at least there was a response this time. “Also don’t call me Bruce.”

“...right, sorry. B, can I call you B? I’ll call you, B.” Right. Another line, another step back. It felt like you were always so far from this man in front of you. It was like torture, the constant silence and the constant interrogation. The past was gone, so why is he trying, almost desperately, to get you to remember something? There was nothing, nothing to do but to turn right to the blinding screen and puff out smoke from your blackened lungs. Lonely. You’d have to be so desperate to expect anything but silence from Gotham’s Ghost. Brucie Wayne was a complete opposite from this shell of a man below you. Yes below, for some reason he’s kneeling on his knees, looking up at the mental mess you were. Smudged day old makeup and hair that not even the greatest hairstylist could fix, and he’s looking at it. There’s something in his eyes, something that you’ve seen before. Is it anger? Is it guilt, longingness, or is it disgust?

Probably the latter.

“God…” What? God what? Why does his voice sound like that, why was he even here? There is nothing in this apartment of worth, and definitely not to him. He had no need for money, he’s the richest fool in New Jersey. There’s no evidence of whatever you committed or any incriminating documents, he’s already checked. Not even a gun in this useless place. So ‘God’ what? “You’ve never looked so much like your Father.” 

Even though it was cruel, it was true. The heavy purple-ish eyebags digging into your skin, the empty eyes full of nothing but the reflection of work. The cigarette being the only other things that your attention is on and the empty beer bottles behind the sofa. It was like watching a scene from forty-something years ago. The runaway child becoming the very thing they hated, a tale as old as time. A tale that is only seen in fragments, very violent fragments.

.

.

.

“Shut up.” He can’t just say that. That’s not something-someone he should know. And it’s evident on his face, the way he immediately goes back to that infuriating mask. Don’t shut up, say more. Tell me more, please. “Please.” Stop making me feel like this.

“I…I am sorry.” 

“For what, Bruce just-” no, desperation was a big no no. Sadness? No. You were over it, it didn’t matter anymore. “You know what? A drink is good, I’m gonna get a drink. Do you want a drink? I’ll get you a drink.” it was the rambling, made you seem insane. But so what? So what if it was rude not to wait for an answer, there was no one to beat the manners, into you was there? As you got out of the chair it felt like your body was going to give out. It was all too much, what was too much?

Nothing.

The nothingness, no laughter, no embracing, no happy glimpses, no it was just nothing. One step towards him felt like a step towards an edge. In both situations gravity was not on your side. The black bat displayed across his chest blurred, as did everything around you. The headache was no longer there, just warm hands and a heartbeat. A racing heartbeat.

You hope it isn’t yours. Hope the warmth is deaths hand embracing you, or hell getting prepared for it’s newest guest.

[uhbambii]

A Sweet Brew

The sun hung low over Treviso, casting the cobblestone streets in hues of gold and amber. The town was alive with soft chatter and the scent of freshly baked bread wafting from nearby shops. Rook walked alongside Lucanis Dellamorte, their pace unhurried, their steps falling into an easy rhythm.

Lucanis, as always, carried himself with a quiet confidence. His dark hair fell just slightly over his forehead, and his deep-set eyes—dark as a starless night—glanced at her with an intensity that made her cheeks flush. The silver detailing of his dyed leather armor glinted in the fading sunlight, but tonight, he seemed like a man enjoying stolen time with someone who had slowly begun to mean everything to him.

“You keep looking at me like that, and people will start talking,” Rook teased, her lips curving into a smile.

Lucanis smirked, a faint tilt of his head betraying his amusement. “Let them talk. Non mi importa. Tonight, it’s just us.” His voice, low and velvety, sent a shiver down her spine.

They arrived at Cafe Pietra, a warm, rustic tavern nestled near the heart of the square. Lucanis opened the door, his hand brushing hers as he gestured for her to enter.

“After you, tesoro,” he said softly, his gaze lingering on her with a rare gentleness.

The tavern’s cozy interior was alive with the hum of conversation, and the rich aroma of roasted coffee. They chose a table tucked near the open railing, where the view of the twinkling lights of Treviso framed them in golden light.

As they settled in, the barmaid approached, pen poised to take their orders.

“I’ll have coffee,” Rook said with confidence, then added, “but sweet. Really sweet. Lots of milk. And whipped cream on top, please.”

The barmaid nodded and turned to Lucanis, who leaned back in his chair, one brow raised in amusement.

“Un caffè nero,” he said simply. His voice, smooth and measured, contrasted with the teasing look he shot Rook.

Once the barmaid left, Lucanis rested his chin on his hand and gave her a slow, almost predatory smile. “Milk, sugar, whipped cream. Cara mia, you might as well have ordered dessert.”

Rook leaned forward, undeterred. “And? What’s wrong with that? It’s good.”

“It’s childish,” Lucanis countered, though his voice was tinged with affection. “But fitting. You do have a way of bringing a certain… levity to things.”

She grinned, pushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “You mean I make you laugh.”

“I mean you make my days lighter,” he said, his words quieter, almost as if he hadn’t meant to let them slip. His dark eyes softened, and for a moment, there was no teasing, no veil of sarcasm between them. Just honesty.

Rook felt her breath catch. She’d never tire of the moments when Lucanis let down his guard, when his words carried the weight of feelings he struggled to express.

Their drinks arrived soon after, the contrast between them as stark as their personalities. Rook’s cup was a decadent creation, whipped cream piled high with a drizzle of caramel. Lucanis’ was, unsurprisingly, dark and unadorned.

He raised his cup, taking a slow sip, then eyed hers with a raised brow. “Is that coffee, or did you order a dessert buffet in a cup?”

“Don’t knock it till you try it,” Rook said, her tone daring. She scooped up a spoonful of whipped cream and held it out to him, leaning slightly forward.

He sighed theatrically but leaned closer, his lips brushing the spoon as he tasted the cream. When he sat back, he rubbed his chin as if deep in thought. “Sweet. Very sweet. Too sweet for me.” His smirk returned as he added, “But I can see why you like it.”

“Because I have excellent taste, Bello” Rook replied, taking a triumphant sip from her cup.

“No,” Lucanis said, his voice softening. He reached across the table and took her hand in his, the calluses of his palm a comforting contrast to the tenderness of the gesture. “Because you are sweetness itself, Uccellina.”

The air between them shifted, growing heavier with unspoken emotion. His thumb brushed over her knuckles, and when she looked into his eyes, she saw something she wasn’t sure she deserved but couldn’t help wanting.

“You’re too smooth for your own good,” she murmured, though her heart raced at the way his gaze never wavered.

Lucanis’ lips curved into a faint smile. “Perhaps. But tonight, I’ll indulge in saying what I mean. Sei la mia luce.”

Her breath hitched, and she gave his hand a small squeeze. “And you’re mine. Even if you do drink the bitterest coffee known to man.”

They laughed softly, the sound low and intimate, a shared moment that felt like it belonged only to them. As the evening deepened, Lucanis leaned back in his chair, his hand never leaving hers.

“I could sit here forever,” he said quietly, his voice like a promise. “With you. Just like this.”

Rook smiled, her heart full. “Then I guess you’ll have to get used to whipped cream.”

“For you?” he murmured, lifting her hand to his lips and brushing a kiss over her knuckles. His eyes met hers, dark and unwavering. “Sempre, Uccellina.”

The moment lingered, the world outside the tavern fading into irrelevance. There, in the golden glow of Treviso, they found something sweeter than any coffee: a quiet certainty that they had each found their place in each other.

——————————————————————————

Hey guys! I’m back after a short hiatus due to finals week and winter break! (I’m a junior in University).

I will start the fanfics back up, but I would appreciate it, if I could get some ideas of the kind of writing you’d like to see!

Anyways! Happy Holidays!!!

——————————————————————————

Non mi importa: I don’t care

Tesoro: Treasure/Darling/Sweetheart

Un caffè nero: Black coffee

Cara mia: My beloved

Bello: Handsome

Uccellina: Little Crow/Little Bird

Sei la mia luce: You are the light of my life

Sempre: Always

——————————————————————————

[anbaisai]

Finally had time to sit down and write, but honestly there’s not much to be said other than thank you to everyone who wrote a message on my tree! I really enjoyed reading every single message and screenshotting to save them into a folder for when I need a lil boost ww (including one from Mr. Viper himself above that got a laugh out of me, thanks Jamil really appreciate you thinking I’m cool)

Some sappiness under the cut:

I never expected to receive this much support for my silly yume/oc ship content when I began posting, and I really don’t have the words to express how grateful I am. I’ve met many wonderful people through this fandom, and also just had lots of fun in general making art. I mean it when I say I genuinely never had this much motivation and inspiration to create for any fandom (or original content) in the past. There was a long, long period in my life during which trying to find even a crumb of motivation to draw felt impossible. There was always some reason that I couldn’t - be it school/life being too busy, feeling too tired, having other stuff to do first, etc. I thought I’d never rediscover my love and passion for art, until I finally pushed myself to design my Yuu for real (instead of just thinking about it) and then everything just snowballed from there. (For context, I began playing TWST in 2020 and, despite being very much in love with it, only began drawing anything for it this year.)

I have such a massive list of ideas that I still want to draw (plus several asks that I want to answer that I just haven’t had the time to yet), so I’m certainly going to be kept busy for a while. After previously making every excuse possible for not drawing, I’ve learned that yeah, once you really love something you will squeeze time out for it no matter how hard things get, because it kills you not to. All those times when I wondered when I’d ever be able to draw as much as my favourite artists now feel like a distant relic of the past, and I have Twisted Wonderland (especially Jamil) and this community to thank for it. If anyone reading this is going through something similar, I promise it gets better - you will need to put in the effort to make it start, but you will get there.

There’s also my past experiences of being in fandoms that, well, did not welcome yume/self-shipping type content. If I so much as thought of creating any, the fear of being ridiculed would make me back away from the idea immediately. I’m glad to see that sentiment seems to be no longer the norm, but also the TWST fandom has been one of the most supportive of yume content I’ve ever seen. To everyone wanting to participate but has been hesitating, you absolutely should! My only regret is not starting sooner, seriously. In a sense I feel like I'm fulfilling a childhood dream of mine, and all of my past hesitation and anxiety just dissipated once... as cringe as it sounds - once love took over. So go pour your love and passion into that character you adore, they deserve it.

Anyways, wishing everyone a happy holidays and happy new year! Here’s to another year of enjoying TWST and creating for the things we love ❤