#she doesn't even understand what he is asking of her | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

jensthwa · 15 hours ago

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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!

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narcjsistx · 2 days ago

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𝐔𝐍𝐄𝐗𝐏𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐃 | kaiser x reader

— part ten

plot: kaiser comforted you after a bad and slow breakup, but what will happen now considering what you two shared? is everything still unexpected or is there something you both simply have yet to realize?. fluff shit 'cause yeah!!

words: 1.9k (1967)

extra: it will probably become a multi part story, tell me if you're interested in a part eleven! I also realized that maybe I write shorter chapters better, so abandon the 2.5/3k word chapters

𝐌𝐘 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ; take a look, trust me!. you can find the other parts of the story by searching in the section dedicated to bllk

Since the parade had taken place you had completely returned to the path you were on, as if the hatred that so many had directed at you had dematerialized: on the one hand you appreciated this thing, but on the other it still made you so angry when you remembered how they had treated you. Many agencies, both German and foreign, had asked you to collaborate, but you had decided that for the moment you would only stay with TraumLaufsteg, which still had many answers to give you; you still wanted to understand what kind of relationship there was between Ursula and Gabriel, and how he was one of the founders. These were questions that tormented you at night, but for some time now you have been spending them more peacefully in Kaiser's arms, where you felt good

The media had begun to suspect the alleged relationship between you and the German prodigy, but beyond speculation there was obviously nothing confirmed. You and Michael were careful to keep things low profile, as complicated as it was for both of you. No one had yet understood that you had moved back in with him, and no one should have understood that now hugs weren't the only thing you exchanged

Michael had been on tour in the Berlin border areas for a week now, and for convenience he didn't come home, as much as he wanted to. You missed him, but he would be back in less than a few days, so you were happy. Life with Kaiser was going great, and that made you fall in love with him even more. The only problem was that Gabriel had suddenly started managing the company's models, including you: this meant being in contact with him more than necessary, and as much as I didn't want to, it was work

"Okay, one last time, whole runway" says the man sitting in his comfortable chair, while you and the other seven models return to the starting position. You had been doing the exact same thing since this morning only with different clothes, and if it hadn't been for the presence of your ex you would surely have been happier. You take a deep breath, taking the first position as the top model. You start walking, gaze fixed and movements flowing, swinging the wide skirt you had to wear as a test. You walk the entire length, reaching the tip where you put a hand on your hip, looking at the imaginary audience and then walking back, always with the same grace. The other models repeat the gesture taking their time, but you always feel Gabriel's gaze on you

He always looks at you, as if it were something that would make him breathe. Even when the attention should be on the other models, his gaze doesn't move from your figure, and you can't do much more than glare at him. Since he started working with you again, he has this toxic habit, which always makes you feel bad even though you haven't done anything. It gets worse when Ursula is with him, who occasionally attends the rehearsals next to the man: it makes you laugh a little how she tries to get his attention, failing miserably... and yet on the day of the show they seemed like best friends. Ursula doesn't talk much with her models, much less with you, so you don't know much about this woman who, in your opinion, knows a lot about you

"Okay ladies. Monica, more movement, you're modeling, not going shopping... and Iseut, more expressions, you have a cute face, use it. Also for our top model..." says the man, waking you up from your thoughts and noticing that everyone has modeled "Nothing to say, we all know she's a professional" he says giggling slightly, and while the others nod you want to do nothing more than go to him and strangle him. You hate his behavior, you hate everything about him and how he tries to flatter you every time. You'd be tempted to intentionally screw up everything to see his reaction, but at the same time it's not like you to ruin your always impeccable work for someone like that, unworthy of so much fame

You are about to leave the room to go to your dressing room and finally call your boyfriend, when you hear the doors of the rehearsal room open, and two video cameras enter followed by Ursula herself. You are surprised by this, because from what you knew from the other models in the agency access to the video cameras is prohibited

The cameras are roaming around the room, as you and the other models stare at them. You hear someone muttering something confused about this, and you don't know how to react even though you've been used to being in the spotlight for years now. You don't know why, but it stinks

Ursula stands next to Gabriel, and from the knowing smile they exchange you understand that the bomb you were waiting for is probably about to explode right now. The stylist's snake-like gaze looks you over, and a cold shiver runs down your spine as you watch the cameras finally settle in front of the two buddies, who are now scenographically side by side. You need to leave now, because the situation is feeling stranger by the second, and you don't like

"Welcome to the agency! Gabriel and I are very honored to be able to give you the opportunity to document life in the TraumLaufsteg, which for a long time has not given such a chance to anyone. Feel free to ask me and our models anything you have in mind" says Ursula in front of the first camera, while Gabriel nods "You have entered at the end of the shift of the models who will participate in the next fashion show, I was just taking care of that" he says charismatically, and the woman nods. One of the two video cameras is put down, while the man holding it comes in front of the screen, probably taking the place of the interviewer "Could you tell us more about the next show?" says the man "You can ask our models, they are ready to answer" says Gabriel, and the object moves towards you, catching you off guard. You and all the others know how to handle the situation, it is a quality that you have to acquire if you do this job, but it is still strange

The interviewer approaches, taking the girl at your side "Could you tell me how a normal shift goes?" he asks, and the woman shows off her best smile while improvising some cool answers, but in truth you don't listen to. Gabriel's oppressive gaze, now a few meters away from you, continues to stare at you with an almost maniacal smile, the same one that Ursula gives you. You gulp down a lump of saliva as you fix your hair, trying to ignore the situation. "How does it feel to walk with an internationally famous model?" the interviewer suddenly asks, and the woman remains silent for a few seconds, honestly not knowing how to respond. They all know who the man is referring to, and you can't help but smile at the camera filming you, one that actually hides a bit of anxiety and perplexity underneath

The woman remains silent, smiling nervously. The interviewer now turns to you, the microphone pointed at your mouth. “This would be the first interview you’ve had since the break” he says, and you nod. “It would have come sooner or later. You’ve obviously had more luck than the others” you say, trying to sound as nonchalant as usual. The man nods “You’re probably right. How does it feel to be back on the catwalk?” he asks “Oh, it feels great. I’ve missed doing the usual things, and going back to the catwalk was like getting some fresh air after keeping my face under water for too long” you say. The microphone shakes a bit "And why choose an agency right here in Germany? And then, such a small one" he says, and you understand why Gabriel was smiling before. You suspect that they are ready-made questions, that they are aimed at putting you in difficulty and make you look like an idiot

"Well, I moved to Germany a while ago, and starting again with an Italian agency would have been uncomfortable because of the country difference. I chose TraumLaufsteg because I saw potential, and I would say I made the right choice when I see the results of the last show" you say, using all the trump cards you can give. It's a smooth answer, but it doesn't reveal anything wrong, or at least that's what you think

"How coincidental, however, to choose TraumLaufsteg, which is precisely the agency where Gabriel is the founder. Is there something in between this choice? After all, there has been a lot of chaos between your boyfriend and you in the last few weeks" says the man, and finally you understand that it is all a trap from the beginning, designed only to advance the main topic, that is, you and Gabriel. You see an immense satisfaction in the man, and you can't help but want to kill him

"There is absolutely no correlation between my choice and the situation you are talking about, since my ex and I are no longer together. I saw potential in the TraumLaufsteg without asking myself too many questions about who the founders were" you say in a serious tone, one that has the aim of not letting anything but your disgust transpire. The interviewer looks surprised, as does Gabriel who leaves Ursula's side, taking steps towards you. You watch him approach, feeling yourself suffocated with each step that brings you closer. He comes to your side, making his way through the models, putting his arm around your waist. Your eyes widen, moving to step aside, but his firm grip doesn't let you move. He smiles at the camera, as if nothing's wrong. If he wants to play like a jerk he's doing it perfectly

"My Y/n is just kidding, we all know in the industry how her humor can almost seem truthful. I don't know what's going on in her head, I just know that we are definitely not exes" he says playfully in front of the camera, which frames the two of you while you are doing everything you can to keep him away. You look at him disgusted, like you have never looked at anyone before. He wants to change the story every time to suit his own convenience, first calling you a traitor and now again calling you his girlfriend

It only takes a second for you to feel his lips crush yours. Your blood runs cold as you feel the sickening sensation you had forgotten and that had comforted you for so many years. He lingers on your lips, feeling them as he always has. You move to pull away, but it's no use because of his firm grip. You would like to cry, slap him, push him as far away from you as possible, but you can't do anything but remain perplexed by the gesture, appearing in front of the camera like a dead person. Now that you've gotten used to only Kaiser's lips, why do you feel those who have only spoken badly of you?

"See? Couple as always" says Gabriel, joking with the interviewer. You watch it disgusted, and everyone on television could tell that you were clearly not comfortable. Because yes, unbeknownst to you this was live nationally

And a certain blond German soccer player was watching the scene in his cold hotel room

tag(s): @rroxii ; @kittenish0 ; @bungoustraydogsno1fan (if you want to be tagged tell me!)

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serge-starr · 20 hours ago

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If you hate Donald Trump and Elon Musk like I do, I need your advice, please read this

Red text - Why I hate them

Blue text - My problem

Green text - Why it's a problem/why I need advice

Genuinely, do I even really have to explain why I hate Trump? Is it not ovious enough? He is one of the most evil people ever known and there is NO SUCH THING as a "good trump supporter". THEY'RE ALL BAD. He is openly a misogynist and talks about women so poorly. He talks about them like they're s-x objects and says that women deserve punishment if they get abortions. He's been accused of SA by DOZENS, literally DOZENS of women. He even sexualises his own daughter and says that he would date her if they weren't related. Furthermore, he's cheated on all of his wives.

And what else? He is racist. Straight up, he is literally just racist. He also openly admires dictators and said that he wants to become one himself. He said that he wants an army just like (Germany mustache guy)'s. He has a friend called Nicholas Fuentes who also has openly said that he admires (Germany mustache guy), is a Holocaust denier and said, I quote, "your body, my choice" and "there will never be a female president". Trump has unfair tax policies that only benefit rich people and fuck over the middle and lower class. I struggle to explain this and why it upsets me to my parents because my parents don't care about politics or understand me as a person. Even if they did they wouldn't have the same views as me. They're conservative and I'm alternative.

So my problem is that my Mother says that all politicians are narcissists. I tried to reason with her and explain that politicians might just be people who stand for something and want to make change. She said that all politicians are power hungry and all they want is money and fame. I told her that I was passionate about politics and I cared about it a lot. She said that I shouldn't care about politics. I tested her standards and told her "what if I want to work in politics? Does that make ME a narcissist? Or does it not apply to me because I'm your child?" My Mum said that I would never make it as a politician because I'm too soft.

My Dad on the other hand, has bought a tesla, for multiple reasons. Firstly because they're good for the environment, and also because he liked the car's design/functions and he liked that he didn't have to pay for gas. I have begged my parents multiple times to not take me anywhere in that car (we have other cars). My Dad asked me to explain why and I told him that it went against my beliefs to go in the car. The company of tesla is partially owned by Elon Musk who is the richest man in the world and oh my God he is an ASSHOLE. He has so much fucking money that he doesn't even need and once he literally prevented money from being donated to a charity for children's cancer. He is the definition of a priviledged asshole. And of course he's a fucking Trump supporter. My parents believe that I'm being unreasonable but I don't think they understand how much it truly upsets me. At this point, it's not even political opinions, it's a political fact. I don't support Donald or Elon, I never have, and I never will. It is not justifiable to support them.

I need your advice because my Mum has continuously forced me to get in that car and take me places with it, like school, my art club, to town or literally just anywhere. I'm sick of it. I'm sick of people seeing me get out of it at school. It's embarassing. My parents don't understand. My Dad said that if I don't want to get in the tesla then I can just stop going to art club and other places. He asked me to explain why I hated the tesla and I told him it was difficult to explain.

What if people at my school think I'm a trump supporter? Look, I'm always one who doesn't care what other people think, but that's only if I'M BEING AUTHENTIC AND MY TRUE SELF. That tesla is not me, it's not my thing and it never will be. I hate going in that car. I hate its size, I hate its design, I hate its company, I hate everything about it. I'm sick of worrying that my friends and classmates think I'm a priviledged asshole. I wish my parents had a sense of reality and would just understand this.

Please, if you have any kind of solution, tell me. And don't say something like "Oh just try explaining to your parents how you feel and why you're uncomfortbale". DUDE I'VE TRIED THAT 9892423 TIMESSS. THEY WON'T LISTEN. THEY DON'T GET IT.

Who can I call? Who can I reach out to? Who can I ask for help? WTF DO I DO???!?!

That's all! Thanks for reading

#donald trump #trump #fuck trump #trump 2024 #fuck elon #elon musk #important #important post #hear me out #help #please help #please help me #pls help #what do i do #politics #us politics #american politics

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grammarpedant · 1 day ago

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Nope. Trap card #2, activated: There's no evidence that Gurathin is from the Corporation Rim.

The fanon that Gurathin is CR comes from a single line in Exit Strategy: Ratthi says, "It came to Preservation packed into the hold of that much bigger ship, the one that’s become the station, with our grandparents. Well, not Gurathin’s grandparents, he came later." Personally, I think there's even room here to interpret Gurathin as being born on Preservation as the child of immigrants, if Ratthi's use of "he came later" is taken as an imprecise synecdoche for Gurathin's family origins as a whole. Given that this is Ratthi "I'll get the cases" "I'm a biologist, I don't understand this money stuff" being sentimental and distractable in this scene, it's a fair cop.

Either way, "came later" does not mean "from the Corporation Rim." There are plenty of other places in the setting that are neither Preservation nor the CR. As early as Artificial Condition another set of non-corporate polities is mentioned, Rami's Divarti Cluster; it's not clear whether Don Abene's homesystems in Rogue Protocol are corporate or noncorporate, but she certainly has no "bone-deep" fear of SecUnits; Fugitive Telemetry meanwhile expounds on travel routes through Preservation Station stretching elsewhere "outside the Rim." The Rim is only one group of places that a human could be from.

No, people are mixing up Gurathin's backstory with Human One's. It's Human One who is the former corporate contract slave, and SHE is the one who acted rationally on her bone-deep, knee-jerk fear of SecUnits in shooting Murderbot in the back. She's not the only corporate-background character to interact with MB, though—even if we did want to headcanon that Gurathin did hail from the CR, we might just as reasonably compare Gurathin's "We just have to keep you immobilized" to Ras and Eletra's "Just tell it to take orders from us" and "It seems like you don't know how to control it" in Network Effect. Their corporate fear and prejudice and desire for control certainly does not stop them from thinking—with clear self-interest, if not rationally or clearly.

People can headcanon whatever they like, of course. By all means, if giving the backstory of a strong and fascinating female character to Gurathin tickles the fancy, then I encourage people to do that on their own time. But this post is my post, and I am not obligated to care about the things people made up outside the text in my analysis of the text.

Finally, let me address a point that's cropped up more than once now. We all know it's not easy to set aside prejudice and in-group bias and fear of the unknown to make rational or kind decisions. We all live in the real world and many of us have personally had to wrestle with the effects of unthinking fear and prejudice, both others' and our own. The Murderbot Diaries is a series that speaks to us as full thinking adults on this matter, that's why kindness is presented as a rational choice, not merely a morally right one. The series acknowledges that it's hard, but at the same time doesn't allow you to wallow in your own struggles to the exclusion of others'—it still asks you to try to see other people clearly for who they are and what they need, and use what agency you have to do right by them. Gurathin fucked up in this scene, then later stepped up and learned better, and rather than focusing over-much on how hard he had it we should learn from his example and do better.

Gurathin is not only wrong, his argument is fundamentally irrational

Gurathin's argument in ASR:

We need to immobilize this SecUnit stat, because it's going to kill us.

I know it's going to kill us because its logs show that it's rogue. If there is no way to control it, then it is dangerous to us.

It is controlled by the Company to sabotage us. "The missing hazard report, the missing map sections. The SecUnit must be part of that." If it wasn't, that would be a coincidence, which is unbelievable.

This SecUnit has gone rogue and killed people in its charge before. It may do so again.

PresAux's counterargument:

It may be rogue, but that doesn't logically mean it will kill us. "The fact that the Unit has been acting to preserve our lives, to take care of us, while it was a free agent, gives us even more reason to trust it." (Volescu)

Someone may be sabotaging us, but that doesn't logically mean it's the Company or our SecUnit. "There were only three SecUnits for DeltFall in their specs, but there were five units in their habitat. Someone is sabotaging us, but I don’t think our SecUnit is part of it." (Ratthi)

If the SecUnit was trying to sabotage us, then why would it tell us about the combat module sabotage and shoot itself? (Bharadwaj, Overse)

The SecUnit believes it went rogue as a result of malfunction, and that hacking its governor module would prevent a repeat occurrence. Confirmation of its sincerity comes from the same logs that Gurathin accessed for his arguments. (Volescu)

Gurathin's counter-counterargument:

Well it gave itself an edgy nickname

#murderbot #murderbot diaries #meta #verso writes #queue

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yokelish · 2 days ago

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About Lucanis and Neve

I need someone to make a valid argument to convince me this relationship isn't' doomed the moment Elgar'nan dies. Especially if Lucanis is the hardened one.

Either way, one of them gets hardened. Neve still retains more leniency when hardened (Rook can pursue her), her complex about attachments to people is made worse. Rook would have to actively dismantle walls to be able to pursue Neve romantically. Neve (hardened or not) sees the Venatori wounds on Lucanis and refuses to poke them. In her own way, it's out of consideration, sympathy. To her, it's kindness. Venatori wounds are painful like bones that never fuse together properly, and she isn't exactly a healer (pun intended). She doesn't like anyone poking into her Venatori wounds either.

Lucanis, while passionate, is just isn't' very good with people or feelings. He isn't good with his own emotions in terms of processing them. He is great at compartmentalizing but that mostly means an emotion is put on a shelf and never touched again. It takes Rook, romantic or platonic, to literally speak into his mind so he has no choice but hear: this is NOT how you deal with complex feelings or trauma. You can't just put it on a shelf and forget about it. You will have to stare down the abyss if you want the abyss to stop haunting you.

Hardened Lucanis is an even bigger can of worms in terms of romantic entanglements. Because via the virtue of Veilguard writing, the man is denied healing. He not only denies Rook a possibility of romance (which isn't the best writing choice, hardened Lucanis romance could have been mindblowing, but I can understand the choice to cut off romance). Lucanis denies himself the possibility of healing. There is a prison inside his mind he could start to dismantle after Inner Demons quest, but hardened Lucanis will fucking ignore the prison's presence and will internalize continue carry it like it's a vital organ and not appendicitis.

And in Neve/Lucanis pairing one of them IS hardened, no matter what. Which is nice! You deserve love and affection even if you've been through shit. But the virtue of Veilguard writing, either Neve or Lucanis gets the short end of the stick in terms of character growth.

So you either have Neve who has drawn the line in the sand, built a wall upon it, and decided that certain depth of a relationship with another person is just a bad idea. It's like underwater pressure: at certain point you just need to stop swimming deeper. She will dedicate to her pursuit of helping dock town, but if LI Rook hasn't carved out a hole in that wall and climbed through-- it is solid. Only people who got on the other side before the wall was finished (Rana, Bellara, Harding) will get to stay behind it.

Hardened Lucanis is...What kind of deep relationship do you expect from a man who actively sees himself as a danger to his romantic partner? That's a man with a broken leg refusing to get a cast. And Neve will not be able to watch this happen. Neve tells Lucanis they are both terrible at letting go and he shouldn't adopt that quality, but Hardened Lucanis not only adopts it, he cranks it up to 11. She will ask him to put on a cast, he will refuse. They'll argue about it. No one will give in, they are both incredibly stubborn. Maybe it happens once, maybe twice or thrice, but Neve will not do this to herself and simply watch a man she cares for, however deeply, sinking into misery. And Hardened Lucanis kinda comes across as miserable, even his speech of reclaiming his life after the war is over is underlined with 'or I'll die trying'.

Both of their romances require Rook to display incredible patience and understanding of the past wounds on either Neve or Lucanis, to encourage either to stop wearing the shackles of past traumas as part of armor. Those are shackles, they do not protect unless you seek protection from a fuller, richer life.

But in Hardened Neve/Lucanis this will not happened because Lucanis, while passionate and kind, just isn't fucking good with such things. He will come across an obstacle in his relationship with Neve and is just about as likely to think it belongs there as he is to make it awkward. It's a talent and a skill that will take years to even begin to master. Hardened Lucanis/Neve is just a bit of a nightmare for my girl, honestly. While they claim to take their romance slow, it will definitely take a few years for those problem spots to star showing. And I hope either Lucanis or Neve get the help they need before their romantic relationship with each other combusts like an ancient elven relic.

On that note, it is ENTIRELY A FUCKING CHOICE that you have the ability to forgive and push a man towards healing, when said man has:

a. Committed genocide via Rite of Tranquillity b. Tried to tear down the Veil twice and all with disastrous outcomes where thousands died c.Once accidentally killed his friend and twice very deliberately d. Betrays both Player Characters even if you are have been nothing but a friend to him e. Used blood magic on your to alter your mind

Butt you cannot push your companion, your friend, person you trust with your fucking life and the fate of the world to, to heal if you do not save his city. Even if the other city might be your home. it's a fucking choice, to be honest. Lucanis could have still hardened and healed and perhaps started to choose himself over other people finally but nooooo.

#lucanis x neve #dragon age the veilguard #the veilguard #datv #datv critical #lucanis dellamorte #neve gallus

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33max · 3 days ago

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I was thinking about a little fic set when Spyke dies ☹️ so tw pet death. ft the comforting presence of Gianpiero Lambiase

Max isn’t there when Spyke dies. He doesn't actually know that Spyke is sick. His Dad calls him one morning, on New Years Eve, and tells him they have had to have Spyke put down. Jos tells him that Spyke-, his legs had-, that he was was not going to make it.

So Max doesn't get a chance to say goodbye. One minute he’s oblivious, thinking his best pal is probably snuggled up with his little sister, and the next minute his best boy of 11 years is gone.

He blinks.

He can't cry on the phone to Jos. That's not what they do. His Dad will tut at him, tell him Spyke was just a dog. But Spyke wasn't just a dog. He was-

Max’s best friend.

So, he hangs up the phone and lets himself cry.

He looks through pictures of Spyke. Some from a recent trip home, some from when he still lived at home, and others of Spyke as a messy little puppy. Moustache overgrown and ears too big for his body.

Without thinking too much about it, he sends one of the puppy pictures to GP. Along with a broken heart emoji. Because he doesn't have the words, but he needs someone to know that he's- his world isn’t the same anymore.

The message gets marked as read, but instead of the three dots to indicate that GP is replying, Max’s phone starts vibrating in his hand. A call.

Before GP even asks, Max is sobbing down the phone. Hard. Trying to tell GP that he didn’t get to say goodbye. But between the bad connection and the tears, he’s not sure if GP even understands what he’s saying.

“I’m sorry Max, I’m so sorry, I know how much he meant to you.”

“It’s ok to cry.”

And it is ok to cry in front of GP. Because GP has never once told him to grow up, to care less. Never rolled his eyes at Max for being emotional. Always stood with him, listened, and been a comforting presence. And this is no different.

It’s the winter break, so they’re not scheduled to see each other until at least early March.

But it’s 31st December, fucking New Years Eve, and Max is supposed to be going out with his friends tonight. But no. He can’t. Not tonight. Not anymore.

And GP seems to sense that Max might end up spending midnight by himself, alone in Monaco, after losing his best friend. So he says “Hey, Maxy, why don't you come over here? We’re going to play some board games, watch the fireworks, and have a family night. You're family. Join us.”

So Max flys to Milton Keynes, and instead of going to the factory, he gets a cab to GP’s family townhouse.

When GP opens the door he cries a little into GP’s shoulder before wiping his eyes and greeting the rest of the family. They know him well. He’s been coming here since he was freshly eighteen.

And when they sit down that evening GP’s collie, Ella, jumps into Max’s lap. She noses at his hand until he runs his fingers through her fur, and then encourages him to press his head against hers.

“She knows, Max,” GP tells him. “She’s good like that.”

“He was a good boy, Ella,” Max tells her, quietly.

She looks up at him with big brown eyes, before softly bumping her nose against his cheek. I know.

“Thanks for having me, GP,” Max says, “I don’t know what I would have done if I hadn’t come here.”

“You’re always welcome here, Max.” GP says.

“You’re family!” GP’s little girl yells, it’s past her bedtime and she’s so excited to be staying up with the adults.

“Can I get you a gin and tonic, Max?” GPs wife, Marie, adds. “You’re not driving after all!”

Spyke might not be here. But he feels at home.

maxverstappen1: My little friend is no more… rest in peace Spyke ❤️ 11 years I won’t forget… 😞❤️

#I’m sorry for this I just love sausage dogs and GP #writing #😭😭😭😭

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eden-writes-stuff · 3 days ago

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Christmas 1981

Tags: Jegulus, Wolfstar, Marylily, Dorlene, mention of a sex toy (not in active use, just as a gift), they talk a lot about Jegulus' sex life (again, no details), platonic moonwater, platonic marylene,

James Potter was a dead man!

Sirius would definitely kill him

"Why would you get my little brother a fucking sex toy for Christmas?!"

Remus and Regulus stood in the corner, watching the spectacle, eating the most delicious biscuits, which Effie had made for today.

"You weren't supposed to see it", James cried, obviously trying not to laugh.

"And that makes it okay how?!" "Well... it leaves you out of your brother's sex life?" "A life which he only has because of you!" James obviously didn't know the right answer to that.

Next to Remus Regulus swallowed a Jammie Dodger and started coughing. Mary and Marlene joined them just as Regulus caught his breath again.

"What did we miss?" "Sirius saw the gift Prongs was giving to Regulus and now he's accusing him of making Reg have a sex life."

"Is he serious?"

Three pairs of eyes met Marlene, who sighed, immediately realising her mistake. "Just be glad he didn't hear it", she murmured, resting her chin on Mary's shoulder.

"Regulus is a grownup. He's allowed to have se-." Sirius yelled from the top of his lungs, interrupting James. Everyone in the room visibly winced at the high-pitched noise. "Can we PLEASE stop talking about my little brother's sex life!" "Yeah, I second that", Regulus agreed.

"Cool. Now can we talk about how Marls and Cas definitely did it in the guest room yesterday?", Mary grinned "Oh, shut up!" with that, Marlene stormed off, followed by James, who used the distraction to make a quick escape.

Remus walked up to a pouting Sirius, while the others left as well. "You gonna be mad all Christmas?", he asked, taking his place next to Sirius on the couch.

"Am I overreacting?" "Yes." Sirius sighed, leaning his head against Remus' shoulder. "It's understandable though. Reg is your little brother. You took care of him all his life. Of course, you still see him as someone you need to protect."

"I know James would never hurt him. I just... I don't know. He's my baby brother. Also, now my present is gonna suck. Who wants a stupid book when you can get laid instead?" Remus laughed softly and kissed his head.

"I would be happy about both." "You'd want James to do you for Christmas?" Sirius raised an eyebrow, earning a chuckle from Remus. Somehow he always managed to make him smile "Well, I'm sure he doesn't disappoint from what I've heard..." Regulus had spared him most details, but he knew that James knew what he was doing. But Remus also knew that nothing would ever compare to the feeling of being close to Sirius.

"Not you too", Sirius groaned. Remus just shook his head, grinning before stealing a kiss. "Would a present from me cheer you up?" "It might", Sirius beamed with anticipation. Remus quickly disappeared into the next room before returning with a package behind his back.

The 'Greatest Hits' Queen album had hit the market in early November and since then it had been close to Sisyphean to keep Sirius from buying it.

Now, as he saw him on the couch, smiling expectantly, it was all worth it. Sirius ripped the paper from the present and let out a high squeak as he saw the first letters appear. He launched forward, wrapping his arms around his boyfriend. "I never would have guessed that. How did you even get the idea? I'm so surprised", he grinned sarcastically. Remus leaned back, eyeing him with a raised eyebrow.

"You knew?" Of course, he knew. He was Sirius after all. Remus should have known that he knew. Sirius shrugged, smiling innocently. "You said I shouldn't buy it because 'I have all the songs on the other records.' And that from the guy who owns four editions of 'The Picture of Dorian Grey'" "Not my best excuse, I admit", he grinned shyly. But what else could he have said?

"I still love it", Sirius said before Remus could start spiralling. Remus smiled softly, pulling Sirius closer by the hips. "And I love you." "Even better." He could feel the boy's breath on his lips as he leaned in for a kiss.

"As cute as the two of you are, can you please come to the living room?", Peter interrupted from the door. "James said we won't start with the actual presents until everyone is there."

Sirius turned slightly toward their friend, neither of them letting go of each other. "Jealous, Pete? Maybe in the Christmas spirit, we'd let you join?", he teased. Both of them knew that Peter had never really been interested in these things. And Remus knew that Sirius would never ever let anyone else close to him.

"Thanks, but no thanks. Neither of you is my type." Sirius let out a sound of mock-offence "But we're so hot. And so likable."

He threw his arms around Remus and started sobbing heavily. Remus had learned years ago that it was best to play along, so he softly patted his back. "There there. Not everyone has taste", he said flatly.

From the corner of his eye, he noticed Peter shaking his head. "Will you please get him into the living room when you're finished here?", he sighed before disappearing into the corridor.

Sirius continued for a few seconds but soon lifted his head. "Oh, good, he's finally gone." Remus raised an eyebrow. "You probably could have asked him to give us a few more minutes. Don't have to traumatise the poor guy", he answered but Sirius simply shrugged, pulling him into a long kiss.

For that, it had all been worth it. Kissing Sirius was always worth it. Even after six years it still filled him with all these warm and fuzzy feelings when he pulled him closer by the waist or when Sirius' hands found themselves in his hair.

"The others are waiting", he murmured against his lips, although just the idea of breaking the kiss was almost physically painful.

"Let them wait", Sirius answered, pulling him in again. With a sigh, Remus gave in.

It was always worth it.

A/N: And that concludes our journey to Christmas. I hope you enjoyed reading it at least as much as I enjoyed writing it. Now that this is finally done I can get back to working on the requests I've got on the line (don't worry, I haven't forgotten you.)

#Eden's Marauders Advent Calender 2024 #marauders fanfiction #marauders #marauders era #wolfstar #jegulus #marylily #dorlene #remus x sirius #sirius black #remus lupin #regulus black #james potter #mary macdonald #marlene mckinnon

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trainer-from-unova · 13 hours ago

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nightmare

𖤐 bandom blog: @princess-lvcifer 𖤐 english ao3 𖤐 spanish ao3 𖤐 edits 𖤐 kofi 𖤐

ship: eddie munson x f!reader

summary: your boyfriend comforts you after a nightmare

a/n: based on a nightmare I had before s4vol2 / i wrote this in summer 2022 / english isn't my first language

cw: hurt/comfort

word count: 0'6k

Eddie, her everything, was attacked by monster bats, and he was bleeding out and weakening in front of her and Dustin, who were trying to calm the anxiety attack she was having seeing him like this and not being able to do anything to save him as he said goodbye to them and told them he loved them.

And then suddenly she woke up.

There she was, in his bed next to him, in his room a mess full of posters of rock and metal bands. He was next to her, sleeping peacefully.

She lifted her head slightly from the mattress on which it was resting and her eyes went to his shirtless stomach to make sure it had all been a dream, and indeed, it had been: he was safe and sound, sleeping bare-chested, without a trace of blood anywhere on his body.

She noticed that her eyes were moist, so she ran her fingers over them and closed them again to try to go back to sleep, but it was difficult. Her breathing was ragged and irregular, with a horrible pressure in hee chest, and it was worse when her eyes were closed, but she couldn't sleep with her eyes open.

She thought it best to get out of bed and go and get a cool drink of water to calm herself, so she stepped over her boyfriend as carefully as possible so as not to wake him up and left the room to go to the fridge and pour herself a cool drink of water in a clear glass.

She drank but felt just as distressed, and her breathing was still as ragged, so she put her hand on her chest and tried to calm herself in her own way, breathing in and out slowly.

"A nightmare?" he asked a few feet behind her, taking her by surprise.

"Yes," she answered in a whisper.

"Do you want to talk about it?" he asked again.

"It doesn't matter, it was just a crazy dream, but... It seemed so real... And you... It's a very long story, a madness with monsters and everything, but you... You sacrificed yourself" she thought she wasn't going to cry again, but the tears escaped her eyes again without realising it, only to slip down her cheeks as she remembered the nightmare. She knew it had been a dream, that it hadn't been real and wouldn't be real, but it had affected her too much "for me and Dustin, and you said you hadn't finally run away and you'd finally become a real hero, but the whole town thought you were a villain and your body was trapped in another dimension and we couldn't even give you a proper funeral, and you sacrificed yourself and no one even noticed you were gone, your real life friends and your friends in the dream didn't care about you, and, and..." She wanted to say that his uncle thought he was missing and that she told him about his death, and he was devastated, but she couldn't say more. She couldn't get the words out. Anyway, he could hardly understand her. It hurt him terribly to see her like that, worried about him so much. He went over and put his arms around her.

"It's okay, it's not real. I'm here, honey."

"And thank goodness. I don't know what I'd do if I lost you," she cried disconsolately into his shoulder as she hugged him tightly, as if afraid he'd run away from her ...like in her nightmare.

"You're not going to lose me, in any way, ever."

"Promise me, please..."

"I promise."

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autumn-kouhai · 1 day ago

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just a reminder that it is not that curly didn't want to see the abuse him and anya went through, he CAN'T see it.

if he didn't want to see the dead pixel, why did he say he'll go bonkers looking for it? why did he even attempt to look in the first place if he didn't want to see it? while he tries to make sense of this by saying he's used to looking at the bigger picture, he doesn't even deny it's there. he looks anyway because he cares about anya, and values her input.

anya, on the other hand, reads to me as a detail-oriented person. once she sees the intricacies, she can't unsee it(that's what makes her capable of being a good nurse). she knows how curly is, but she doesn't understand why he can't see it. she doesn't blame him for that either by the way, anya just asks him what he would've done for something that already happened. just like she doesn't blame him for not seeing the dead pixel, she even starts the conversation that she still likes the night time window screen.

we, the player, could've already picked up the truth of what happened before curly does. and even when curly is told, he doesn't deny her once. we're not even given what curly's plan actually *was,* just that curly wanted anya to wait for him. he was only given a full day from the moment anya told him she was pregnant to anya telling jimmy, then jimmy crashing the ship.

there's just so much nuance behind curly's state of mind, i'm not even including the abuse curly went through at the hands of jimmy and the shitty working conditions of pony express deteriorating him. the people that say he knowingly turned a blind eye on anya don't recognize the multi-faceted reasons and what he actually did/didn't do. the truth is that curly is human. his actions are neither good or bad, just human.

#mouthwashing #curly mouthwashing #anya mouthwashing #mouthwashing curly #mouthwashing anya #it's yappin hours for the autumn kouhai community #i cannot shut up about this game

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geotjwrs · 20 hours ago

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can I ask for another part of no one's home pls?

beneath of it

Pairings ; Wednesday Addams x Male!Reader

Warning/s ; none

The days following that conversation were even harder than you imagined. Wednesday's request for a second chance lingered in your mind, replaying in an endless loop. Could you trust her again? Could you forgive her? Could you forgive yourself for even wanting to?

The hallways of Nevermore felt colder now. You and Wednesday didn't cross paths often, but when you did, there was always that heavy, unspoken tension between you. She would glance at you, her expression unreadable, but you never lingered long enough to figure it out. You wanted space; you needed it.

Yet, somehow, the universe seemed intent on forcing you two together.

It was late in the evening when Enid, Wednesday's roommate and one of the few people who had noticed the distance between the two of you, found you sitting by the edge of the forest. She approached cautiously, her usual bubbly energy dampened by the weight of concern.

"Y/N?" Enid's voice was soft, almost hesitant. "I've been meaning to talk to you."

You sighed, leaning back against the tree behind you. "If this is about Wednesday, I really don't want to hear it, Enid."

Enid sighed as she sat down next to you, brushing her long, colorful hair over her shoulder. "Look, I know what happened. Not everything, but... enough."

You turned to her, surprised. "She told you?"

She nodded. "Not exactly in a heartfelt, soul-bearing way—she's still Wednesday—but she mentioned that she messed up. That she hurt you."

You rubbed your hands together, feeling the familiar sting of heartache. "She kissed Tyler. She never even kissed me. And then... she called me a burden."

Enid winced. "I'm sorry. That's... yeah, that's harsh."

"It broke me, Enid," you said, your voice barely a whisper. "I don't know how to move past that."

Enid was silent for a moment before placing a hand on your shoulder. "You know, Wednesday isn't exactly the best at handling feelings. She's never been the type to open up or admit when she's wrong. And if she told you she wants a second chance, that's her way of saying she... cares."

You snorted bitterly. "Cares? She cared enough to kiss Tyler."

Enid shook her head. "That was a mistake. A huge one. But Tyler? That's a whole different mess, and you need to know the truth."

A knot of unease formed in your stomach. "What do you mean?"

Enid hesitated, then glanced around to make sure no one was listening. "You know Tyler's the Hyde, right?"

You stared at her, your heart suddenly racing. "What?"

"Wednesday's been trying to figure out who the Hyde is for weeks. She was sure it was Xavier at first, but Tyler... he's the real monster." Enid's eyes widened, trying to make you understand the weight of what she was saying. "That kiss? I think it was part of her plan. Trying to get close to him, trying to learn more about the Hyde. She was focused on the case—maybe too focused. But you have to understand, Y/N, it wasn't about him. It wasn't even about you."

The revelation hit you like a punch to the gut. Tyler was the Hyde. Wednesday kissed him as part of her investigation. But that didn't change the fact that it had still happened, that she had said things to you she could never take back.

"Why didn't she tell me any of this?" you asked, frustration building. "I could've helped."

"Because she thought you were in danger. She didn't want you involved." Enid looked at you with sympathy. "Wednesday doesn't always know how to show it, but she pushes people away when she's scared. She thought the Hyde might come after you if you got too close."

You shook your head, a bitter laugh escaping your lips. "I don't need her protection. I just wanted her honesty."

"I know," Enid said softly. "And maybe she does, too."

The next few days passed in a blur. Your mind was a storm of conflicting emotions. You felt betrayed, but you also understood why she had kept things from you. It didn't excuse her actions, but it added a new layer of complexity to the situation.

Then came the night everything changed.

Nevermore had fallen into a tense silence as word spread that the Hyde had been captured. Tyler had been taken into custody, but the damage had already been done. You hadn't seen Wednesday since the arrest, and part of you was relieved. The space between you still felt fragile, like one wrong move could shatter everything.

But late one night, as you lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, there was a knock at your door.

You didn't have to ask who it was.

You opened the door to find Wednesday standing there, her dark eyes gleaming with something you couldn't quite place. It wasn't the usual cool indifference. There was something deeper, more conflicted.

"I need to talk to you," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

You sighed but stepped aside, letting her in.

Wednesday stood in the center of your room, her hands clasped in front of her, her usual confidence replaced by something almost vulnerable. "I'm not good at this," she began, her eyes flickering to the floor. "But I know I owe you an explanation."

You folded your arms, waiting.

"I... made a mistake," she said, her voice quieter than you'd ever heard it. "With Tyler. With the case. With you. I thought I was doing what was necessary, but I hurt you in the process."

You didn't say anything, your heart pounding in your chest.

"I thought I could handle everything on my own," she continued, her voice wavering. "I thought I didn't need anyone. But... I was wrong. I pushed you away because I was afraid. Afraid that if I let you get too close, you'd get hurt. Or worse."

You clenched your fists, trying to keep your emotions in check. "You still kissed him, Wednesday. You called me a burden."

"I know," she said, stepping closer, her eyes locking onto yours. "And I regret it. I regret all of it. I didn't mean those things. I just didn't know how to handle... us."

Her admission hung in the air, raw and unfiltered. For a moment, you didn't know what to say. You had wanted this—an apology, an explanation—but now that it was here, you didn't know if it was enough.

"I don't know if I can forgive you," you said finally, your voice breaking. "Not after everything."

Wednesday looked down, her expression unreadable. "I don't deserve your forgiveness. I know that. But I do care about you, Y/N. More than I realized."

The room fell silent, the weight of her words settling between you. You stared at her, trying to make sense of everything. Could you really trust her again? Could you let her back into your heart after everything she had done?

Before you could respond, there was a sudden loud crash outside your window, followed by a low growl that sent chills down your spine. You and Wednesday exchanged a glance before rushing to the window.

The Hyde was back.

But Tyler was in custody. How could this be?

Without thinking, you and Wednesday darted outside, your heart pounding as you made your way into the dark woods. You could hear the growls growing closer, and the realization hit you like a freight train. Tyler wasn't the only Hyde. There was another.

The monster lurked in the shadows, its grotesque form illuminated by the faint moonlight. It lunged at you, but Wednesday was faster, her knife flashing in the darkness as she dodged its attack.

"Stay back," she ordered, her voice sharp. "This isn't your fight."

But you didn't listen. You weren't going to stand by and let her handle it alone—not this time.

The battle was fierce, the Hyde's monstrous strength nearly overwhelming. But together, you and Wednesday fought with everything you had. The creature was relentless, its claws slashing through the air as it tried to tear you apart.

Finally, with a well-placed strike, Wednesday brought the creature down, her breathing ragged as she stood over its fallen body. But before you could catch your breath, the creature stirred, its eyes glowing with fury.

It wasn't dead. Not yet.

The Hyde lunged again, its claws aimed directly at you. But in a split second, Wednesday stepped in front of you, taking the hit.

She gasped, her body crumpling to the ground as blood seeped from her side.

As you rushed to Wednesday's side after defeating the Hyde, you found her alive—just badly hurt. Her breathing was shallow, but she was far from the brink of death.

"Wednesday, hang on. I've got you," you said, your voice trembling with concern.

She opened her eyes, grimacing as she clutched her side. "I'm... fine," she muttered, her pride refusing to let her admit how much pain she was in.

You helped her to her feet, your arm supporting her as she winced. Despite the pain, she refused to show weakness. "We need to get back to Nevermore," you said urgently.

"I can walk," she insisted, her expression cold but faltering for a moment.

Still, you didn't let go. "I'm not leaving you to handle this alone anymore, Wednesday. We're in this together. Whether you like it or not."

There was a pause. Wednesday looked at you, something different in her eyes now—an unspoken understanding. She didn't argue this time.

Once back at Nevermore, the aftermath of the fight lingered in the air. The faculty and other students rushed to deal with the Hyde situation. Tyler may have been caught, but the existence of a second Hyde shook everyone.

In the infirmary, Wednesday sat quietly as a medic stitched up her side. You hovered nearby, refusing to leave her. She had taken a hit for you—something she would never openly admit was driven by care. Yet, there was no denying it. You could see it in her eyes, in the way she had thrown herself in harm's way.

After the medic left, the room fell into silence again. Wednesday looked up at you, her face still pale from the ordeal but her gaze as sharp as ever. "You should've left. I didn't need you getting hurt."

You shook your head. "You don't get it, do you? I wasn't going to let you fight that thing alone."

"Why?" she asked, her voice barely a whisper. For the first time, she sounded unsure. Vulnerable.

"Because I care about you," you said, the words heavy with emotion. "No matter how many times you push me away, no matter how many walls you put up, I still care. And that's not going to change."

Wednesday's expression shifted, her usual mask of indifference cracking just slightly. She looked away, her voice softer than before. "I don't deserve it. Any of it."

You stepped closer, sitting on the edge of her bed. "Maybe you don't think you do, but I still want to give it. I want to try again. But this time, we do it differently. No more pushing each other away. No more lies."

She looked at you then, her dark eyes searching yours. "I won't make promises I can't keep," she said, her voice careful. "But I'll try."

That was all you needed to hear.

Over the following days, things between you and Wednesday began to shift. She was still Wednesday—cold, sarcastic, and not the type to suddenly become affectionate. But there were subtle changes. She would sit with you at lunch, even if she pretended it was because she "needed a distraction." She would find excuses to be near you, even though she claimed it was because you "were less annoying than most people."

And sometimes, late at night, when she thought no one was watching, you'd catch her glancing your way, a fleeting softness in her gaze.

It wasn't a perfect second chance. Wednesday still had her thorns, and there were moments when she reverted to her distant self. But it was different now. You weren't afraid of getting hurt, and she wasn't afraid to let you in—at least, a little bit.

One evening, as you both sat in the darkened library, Wednesday quietly reading while you worked on an assignment, she spoke without looking up from her book.

"I saw you," she said suddenly.

You blinked, confused. "Saw me what?"

"That night," she clarified, still not looking at you. "When I kissed Tyler. I saw you watching."

Your heart skipped a beat at the memory. It still stung, even now. "Yeah. I remember."

"I didn't know what I was doing then," she admitted, her voice low. "I thought it was part of the plan. But when I saw the look on your face... I realized it wasn't just a case. I had hurt you. More than I should have."

You didn't say anything at first, letting her words sink in. This was as close to an apology as you'd get from Wednesday Addams.

"I hated you for it," you admitted softly. "But I hated myself more for still caring."

She finally looked at you then, her expression unreadable. "I won't kiss him again."

It was a strange way of promising something deeper—something more than just avoiding mistakes. But it was enough for now.

You nodded. "Good. Because I'd prefer you didn't."

There was a brief silence before she spoke again, her voice softer. "I've never had this before. I don't know how to handle it."

You gave her a small smile. "Neither do I. But we'll figure it out together. One step at a time."

And for the first time, Wednesday didn't have a sarcastic retort. She simply nodded, closing her book and resting her hand on the table between you—just close enough that, if you reached out, you could touch it.

You didn't yet, but the gesture was enough. For now.

#dailywomen #imagine #fanfic #one shot #jenna ortega #jenna ortega fanfic #jenna ortega imagine #jenna ortega x male reader #jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega x y/n #wednesday x male reader #wednesday netflix #wednesday x reader

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gukksweets7 · 1 day ago

Text

Just Him

JJK ONESHOT

Pairing: bf jk/ gf reader

Wc: 2k+

Warning: Just five letters for the warning that it's a FLUFF.

Summary: when your day is already not going well and on top of that you start your periods, your boyfriend helps you through it and makes you feel good.

❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀

The day came to an end just as soon as it started. You are heading back home. Finally! The whole week is over and you are getting your weekend holiday. You can't believe that you actually didn't punch Mrs. Lee for her being too talkative, which she always is but today when early in the day, 2 hours after reaching your office you started your periods, every second of seeing her got you angry. For you periods in your first three days suck so bad. They just are bad. You get to experience extreme mood swings, lower back pain, stomach pain, your inner thighs hurt and what not?

So, today when Mrs. Lee was feeling too much of herself in the office you couldn't help but to finally land the punch you have been willing to land for years. That woman saw you as her biggest competition for some reason, which even you were not known too.

Anyways, your thoughts get diverted when the elevator’s door opens in the corridor to your apartment. You slowly stand straight from your leaning position and get out of the elevator.

Now, all you wish to do is to lie down, get your heating pad and your pain killers. You also want to hold Jungkook, rub your face against his soft, buffy chest. You want to smell him.

You get inside your apartment, messily opening your clothes and dropping them right beside your bag on the front door. You open your bra, having a deep feeling to just throw it out of the window. Now being just in your pink cotton panty, you move inside the living room switching on just a single light. You lie down on the sofa, not even having the energy to get yourself a heating pad.

Jungkook, who just came home, gets in shock after seeing the pile of clothes and your handbag on the floor. As he moves further in, he notices your black bra on the floor.

“Baby, where are yo–?” there you are, lying on the sofa, with nothing, just your panties on with your one hand above your head and your other hand on your lower stomach. It doesn't take him long to understand that you are on your periods.

You remove your hand from above your head now looking at jungkook. You don't even bother to cover yourself up. Jungkook is quick to move towards your form as he drops his bag and coat on the glass tea table placed in front of the sofa, now only in his black shirt with its sleeves folded, giving you a view of his beautiful tattoos.

“ Periods” you mumble, but Jungkook has already understood that. He knew your date was close.

“ I know, sweetheart. It must hurt right?” he asks now, replacing his hand with yours on your lower stomach. You nod as a reply. Slowly you sit up from your lying position. You pat the seat beside you, asking him to sit there. Understanding your signals Jungkook wasted no time and sat there.

“ Did you take your pain killers? Where's your heating pad?” amidst his questions you waste no time straddling his lap. You comfortably place yourself in his lap as you put your head in the crock of his neck, inhaling his cologne which is still there from the morning. His skin is soft against your lips, just like always.

“ You are my heating pad and my pain killers” with this being said, you push yourself further deep in his warm body.

“ Babe, how about I prepare you a hot bath and make you some good food to eat?” He asks.

“ I want you gguk, only you “ you reply while his hand moves on your lower back, giving you rubs.

“ Not now baby, just take a quick warm shower. It's going to help you relax and just like the steam all your tiredness will vanish” he jokes, trying to lighten your mood.

You don't want to deny furthermore,what he said was right. A good warm bath, some good food and an all night cuddle session is definitely going to help you. So you agree.

Jungkook stands up with you still in his arms, your legs wrapped around his torso. This ain't the first time he is doing this. He knows once in a while your periods are too exhaustible. Placing you on the counter, beside the sink he starts preparing for the bath.

A comfortable silence lingers when you suddenly say “ You look sexy” you comment intensely looking at him, whose muscles flex in his black coloured shirt as he prepares the warm bathtub for you. Fuck! He is going to be the death of you.

“ Ohh really? But I look sexy…always” he looks at you raising his eyebrows. You can't help but nod at his words. He is not wrong though. You are well aware of Jungkook and his charisma. You can't appreciate God enough for giving him to you before anyone else.

You get down from the counter as he has now finished his preparation by lastly dropping your favourite lavender bath bomb. You reach Jungkook’s side and open your only cloth covering your body, your panties and throw the used pad in the bin.

You have been so close to Jungkook in the past 5 years that you both have literally nothing you both haven't seen about each other or shown to the other. His presence is the most comfortable thing for you. In a room full of people, he is the only one whose close you want to be.

“ Okay now baby, get in the tub” you comply by standing in the tub while he holds your hand. Slowly sitting down, you sink your whole body in the tub only your neck being out which is supported by the neck pillow of the bathtub.

“ Okay! Then enjoy while I go and make some food for us. When you are done, call for me, I'll come and help you out. Okay?” Jungkook gently asks, while opening his black shirt, now being only in his trousers.

Your eyes roam over his form, to say the least you are not at all shy to show your cravings for him which Jungkook is well aware about. You still give him a thumbs up and look aside, or you will definitely not be able to control yourself. Yes! This is what your period does to you.

“ I'll come back and wash you up “ he says as he kneels down and places a peck on your lips.

—-----

It doesn't take you long to be done with your shower while Jungkook is quick to be done with his half food preparation. He comes back in and helps you out of the bathtub and drains the water of the tub.

You both walk to the glass shower. Jungkook helps you with your shower and within a few minutes you both are done. You get in the room in your robe while he has a towel wrapped lowly around his torso. His hair is wet and droplets of water fall on his face and chest from his long hair.

You see your clothes on the bed. You pull your light pink coloured baggy shirt and proceed to search for your panty.

“ Here “ he says, forwarding you the panty which he just now put the pad on. Yes! This is why you love him so much, he knows exactly what you want and how you want. Him being himself with you is all you have ever wanted to have.

For someone who is not close to him will definitely think he has no care for anything going in the world (which is partially true) But you know him well, like nobody else does. Jungkook is a very caring guy but for that you'll have to reach a certain position in his life.

“Thank you, gguk” you say, placing a peck on his left cheek.

Getting changed to your comfortable clothes you both move to the kitchen while Jungkook switches on the tv, knowing well you like having some carefree time after a whole week of work. But instead you move to the kitchen with him, which makes him confused.

“ Do you need something? Does it hurt a lot? Let me get you a heating pad.”

“No gguk, I am completely fine” you say showing him a thumbs up.

“ Then?” He says, narrowing his eyes as he leans on the kitchen counter, already getting a hint of your intentions.

“ I am here to help you or how about you go watch the tv while I make the rest of the dinner” you suggest now moving to the kitchen counter to start making the dinner.

“ No, you don't need to, instead you can go and rest. I'll be done in a few minutes.” Jungkook suggested holding your hands to not let you cook.

“ Gguk, you already helped me a lot today and it's because of you I am feeling well so let me make the dinner”

“ A straight No” he says jokingly, now pulling you away from the kitchen counter.

“ Yes”

“No”

“Yes”

“No”

“Yes” and that's Jungkook!

You mischievously smile at him, now pulling your hands from his grip while he looks at you agape.

“ Shit you won! But you are the helper and I am the chef. Cool?”

“ Ahh! That works too until I am getting to rub myself against you” you suggest with a flirtatious look in your eyes.

“ Oh that! You do every night” he says, no doubt he loves teasing you.

“ Okay, that wasn't the ‘rub’ I was talking about here” you say rolling your eyes to his naughty remark.

The dinner making part is done. You have helped Jungkook as much as you could. He was already taking the lead in everything even before you could start. Jungkook wasn't the type who would be too prominent about his care for his kindred, but his actions always spoke louder than his words.

As Jungkook is serving you food on the kitchen counter, you wrap your hands around small waist and lay your head on his broad back.

“ Gguk, I need cuddles. And kisses” you say with your right cheek pressed against his back while he serves you dinner.

“ You get that after we are done with our dinner. Hmm?” He replies now being done with serving you and himself dinner.

After dinner:

Jungkook and you are lying side by side on the sofa. Your head is on his arm while your one leg is around his waist. Jungkook is warm and soft, just like always.

Currently you are watching the drama in the living room which you both started together. But right now, you are not at all in the mood to watch any show.

His soft and buff skin against your body helps you in giving in to your dreamland. It always happens when you are cuddling Jungkook. It never takes you long to fall asleep in his arms. Just like now.

As Jungkook senses no movement from you he is quick to understand you are already asleep. So he quietly stands up with you in his arms and switches off the tv before taking you to the bedroom, who is sleeping in his arms without any care in the world.

Jungkook lays you down on the bed beside him when you turn on the other side. He pulls you towards his chest from your arm.

“ Here I am girl, where are you going?” He whispers to himself as he pulls you towards his chest.

“ Sleep well pretty, it must have been a tiring day and I know you did a great job. I love you” he says, placing a peck on your forehead.

“ You too sleep well, handsome. I love you too” you say with your eyes still closed, as you smile.

“ Shit! Go back to sleep” he says as he starts patting your head making you giggle, which makes his smile wider.

—-----------

#bts #bts jhope #bts jin #bts jimin #bts rm #bts namjoon #bts taehyung #bts fanfic #bts jungkook #bts jeongguk #bts suga

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