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mrsparrasblog · 7 months ago

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Take Me to Church

Summary: John MacTavish, the black sheep of his traditional chatolic family, hides his polyamorous relationship with his boyfriend Simon and you their pregnant plus-size girlfriend from his judgmental relatives. When you visit his family while being 9 months pregnant you need to face the reality of his cruel family.

Normaly I think his parents are the most supportive folks but this idea popped up in my head.

TW: Pregnancy, mention of labour, mention of homophobia, fat phobia and strong catholic beliefs, has a happy end

John MacTavish was always the black sheep of his family, and for most of his adult life, he was okay with it. Seeing his family only three times a year made him endure the hate he got from his brothers. In their humble opinion, he was wasting his life; a career in the military wasn’t sustainable. He would risk his life for what? For no wife to come home to and no bairn. If they had seen his single-room bachelor apartment in Glasgow, they would cringe even more. Moving to Glasgow was another thing they disapproved of. He could have lived on the farm like every other MacTavish, crowded with all his nephews. He really loved them, but coming back from every deployment to help on the farm left him with no freedom and several set-up dates with "proper" Scottish girls.

If it had been his grandma’s choice, he’d marry a thin, catholic Scottish girl. And despite the girls being absolutely beautiful, it just wasn’t what he wanted. John MacTavish only had four wants in his life, and his family could only respect one of them (the want for a good whiskey). Becoming a Military Captain wasn’t one of them, dating his Lieutenant (coming out as BI would be an early grave for his grandparents and dad), and his fourth want was you, the beautiful, soft girl who made him and his Lieutenant go crazy. His family would have approved of you being a girl, but you being an atheist, not from Scotland, a plus-sized girl (which he and Simon absolutely adored), and you being in a relationship with both of them at the same time, would be another matter. Sometimes he laughed thinking about what would scare his family more: him being bi, only dating soft, curvy women, being in a poly relationship, or dating two "foreigners." He decided the poly thing would be the final death blow for his family.

So he hid this side of himself for years, hurting himself and, more importantly in his eyes, hurting you and Simon. Both of you tried hard not to act hurt when you spent another Christmas without him because he needed to attend his family gatherings without his dark secret.

The thing about secrets is they can never be kept, especially if his secret was crying in his strong arms with the famous device with two lines in your hands. “Johnny, what am I gonna do?” you sobbed while he tried everything to ease your mind. He knew it was his, always knew. Simon couldn’t be the dad; he had decided as soon as he was 18 to go to the doctors and take the responsibility to never have children.

The first months of the pregnancy were beautiful despite all the throwing up. When you thought you had two guard dogs before the pregnancy, you were so wrong. You didn’t even know that people could get so protective. Simon was attached to your hip every second he wasn’t on deployment, shooting death glares at anyone who even dared to look at you. Johnny didn’t allow you to clean or cook. “Won't let ma pregnant girl cook. What kind of lad do you think I am?” Johnny huffed as you complained about being pregnant and not sick. Even the sex got better; you were living the life with your two perfect boyfriends.

To his surprise, Simon was happy about the news. A child wasn’t something he thought was in his cards, but with you and Johnny, it could be possible. Even if he had the fear that the baby would only accept Johnny as his dad, you immediately told him that he was an idiot—the child would see him as the dad he was. "Who cares about fucking biology?"

Until your last weeks of pregnancy, when it was finally time to drop the bomb on Johnny’s parents. You wanted grandparents and uncles for your baby so badly. In the end, you regretted your decision.

Scotland, Kingussie

You wore a cute sundress, one of the only things that still fitted you since the pregnancy. You looked radiant; pregnancy suited you. And Johnny’s hand in yours, waiting for his parents to open the door. Johnny told you only half the truth when he said his parents were happy to meet you. They were, they just didn’t know half of it. And you were long asleep when Johnny and Simon had a fight about him finally telling his parents about him and that he mattered too. This didn’t help you prepare for what would happen once you entered the cozy farm in Scotland.

The door opened, and an older woman hugged Johnny immediately. “We missed you, my sweet boy. Show me the lovely lass you brought home.” One glance at you was enough to make her gasp. “Dear God, you’re pregnant!” Her blue eyes scrutinized you. To her credit, she really tried to hide her disgust, not wanting to judge you. “Is it yours, son?”

“Mom, of course it’s mine.”

“Well, congratulations.”

She walked inside the house while you and Johnny removed your shoes. Both of you fell into an awkward silence. “Johnny, what the fuck was that?”

“Mo leannan, I’m sorry. They’re a bit catholic, but they mean well, I promise.”

“Johnny…”

“Please, give them a small chance, and then we can leave whenever you want.”

You sat down at the enormous table. Fourteen pairs of blue eyes stared at you like you were a foreign alien invading their beloved home.

“So, you’re Johnny’s lass?” his father asked gruffly.

“Yes, Johnny and I have been dating for four years,” you smiled softly. Simon and Johnny were the best four years of your life.

“Four years, so I assume that bairn is yours, Johnny?”

“Of course it’s his,” you snapped, offended that he even asked. You would never cheat on Simon and Johnny. There wasn’t even a reason—the relationship and the sex were perfect.

“I didn’t talk to you, lass. I asked my son.”

“Dad, of course it’s mine.”

“So, you’re telling me that you compromised that poor girl?”

“Compromised?” you asked, confused.

“Not even English by her lack of vocabulary,” his grandfather chimed in.

“I told you, Johnny, you can’t just let your urges win. Look at you, knocking that poor woman up and not even asking for her hand in pòsadh,” his father gripped the table, trying to calm himself down.

“Do you know how much shame you bring to this family, Johnny? I would have given you your great-grandma’s ring, but no, you decided to take the MacTavish name even further into ruin. We accepted all your poor choices, lad, but now you’ve got a non-Scottish girl knocked up without any wedlock.”

“It’s not like the ring would have fit on her fat finger anyway,” his brother mocked, and that was Johnny’s final straw. He grabbed your hand, ready to leave.

“I won’t bother you with my shame anymore. Come, mo leannan.”

“Please, Johnny, stay. I promise Dad and Grandpa won’t say a word. We just never heard of you having a girlfriend, and now she’s pregnant. It’s a big shock.”

Johnny wanted to protest, but you really wanted your baby to have grandparents to love her. You whispered in Johnny’s ear that you needed to stay, at least try it for Sophia’s sake.

Another choice you regretted as soon as you saw haggis on your plate. “Johnny, what’s this?”

“I’m sorry, mo leannan. I told them you’re vegetarian,” he said apologetically.

“It’s good for the baby, lass. At least try it before you mock it,” she said, and you hated yourself for being a people-pleaser because the minute you tasted it, you ran to the toilet, throwing it up.

“That was a tad dramatic.”

“I get it, lass. When I was pregnant with my cute Johnny, I couldn’t hold anything in. Do you already have a name?” His mother really tried to make amends, giving you a bit of slack while his other family members couldn’t.

“Yes, we thought about Sophia.”

“That’s not a Scottish name,” his mother’s tone was full of disappointment.

“You cheated on John!” his grandpa started to scream at you.

“What?”

“The MacTavish family has never born a girl. Never.”

“Grandpa, you better shut your mouth.”

“How dare you talk this way to me in my own house!”

“Mo leannan, start the car already. We’re leaving.”

You went as fast as your swollen pregnant legs could carry you, trying to close your ears to the conversation.

“You won’t see my bairn. You disrespected the fucking love of my life. Who cares if she isn’t Scottish, or not Catholic, or fat? I fucking love her like this. She is the most intelligent, funny, beautiful woman on earth, and I’m going to have at least three babies with her, and you won’t see any of them. Or me. And by the way, I also fuck a man too.” He ignored the screams of his grandfather, how he was disowned, the pleading of his mother to rethink his choice. All he needed was to get back to you, the baby, and drive you to Simon, his perfect family.

“Mo leannan, I’m sorry. I should have done this years ago.”

“I just want to go home, Johnny. I’ve had enough.” You weren’t sure if you wanted to be mad at him or thankful for protecting you and your baby like this. But before you could decide on that, your shoes were already soaked. “Johnny, the water broke.”

“Yeah, I’ll fix it at home.”

“What?”

"Well, I don’t have a screwdriver here, and I won’t ask my dad for one."

"Why do you need a screwdriver?"

"To fix the car. You said the water broke; you meant the leak, right? Simon was already on it, but I guess it’s opened again."

"No, Johnny, my fucking water broke."

He stared at you in horror before he scooped you up and started to run. "Where are you running, Johnny?"

"To the hospital."

"We have a bloody car."

"But it’s leaking."

"Johnny, I’m leaking, not the bloody car," you screamed in pain after one of your first contractions.

"Fucking hell, I can bring that baby. I helped a cow with labor; it’s the same, right?"

"Johnny, you’re going to drive me to a fucking hospital. I’m not some highland cow."

-----------------------------

After 16 hours of painful labor (MacTavish babies are huge), your sweet girl was finally born, and Johnny didn’t even faint, much to Simon’s surprise, who almost caused six car crashes on the way to you. And now you were lying in bed, barely awake, looking at your tiny bundle of joy in Simon’s burly arms. It was enough to make a grown man cry. Kyle, Johnny, and Simon were just amazed by the baby.

The door went wide open. "How is my girl?" John ran towards your bed, looking to see if you were injured, hurt, and alive, holding you tight in his arms. He didn’t even look once at Sophia; he was just too afraid about you. "Sorry, I was afraid something happened to you with these muppets." You always wished to experience a father’s love, and right now you realized you didn’t need to have Johnny’s dad or grandpa for this—you had Captain Price.

"It’s okay, Dad," and this was enough to make Price bawl his eyes out. He always wanted a daughter, but infertility was a cruel curse on him. He kissed your forehead. "Let me look at my granddaughter." He accepted this role without hesitation, when you saw your baby between her two loving fathers, her uncle Kyle, and her Grandpa Price, you knew she already had the family you were searching for.

A/N: I don't approve of anything his family said if this isn't clear, I was almost in the same situation (without pregnancy) meeting the strongly prejudiced grandma of my partner. So please don't come at me with hate, already have enough of it in my asks :)

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basketonthedoorstepofthefbi · 9 months ago

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Spencer Reid x Read fic. Reid and Reader are friends, like best friends. Reader is always offering Reid donuts and listening to his fun facts and info dumps. It's one of those, they both like each other, but also are convinced the other doesn't like them.

Spencer is taking care of a slightly drunk reader whose grandmother called and asked why they're not engaged when they're younger sibling is married and expecting a child. At some point Spencer makes his ever classic comment about how it's safer to kiss and drunk reader, before being able to think, kisses Spencer. I hope that made sense.

OOPS I DID EXACTLY THAT

Safer to Kiss (Spencer Reid x Fem!BAU!Reader)

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!BAU!Reader

Word Count: 2899

Warnings: Mentions of food, drinking alcohol, mild cursing, outdated expectations of women, and lots of pining

A/N: Hi I wrote this in 2 hours and was extremely entertained, please enjoy and if you send me a fic request I'll probably do it bc this is my hyperfixation hobby right now and very much keeping the demons at bay xD @bxm-1012 thank you for dropping by my inbox! I am VERY tempted to make a part 2 of this, I hope you enjoy! c:

-----

The whole expiration date thing that women faced was, in your humble opinion, complete and utter bullshit. Here you were, slowly approaching thirty (definitely still told people you were twenty-five, when, in fact, you were actually twenty-eight), and the biological clock was ticking. No, you didn’t want kids. Not right now, anyway. Not when you were only two years into your career as a profiler for the FBI’s prestigious Behavioral Analysis Unit. Not when you still had tons of things to check off your bucket list - go to Europe, visit an independent bookstore in every state, pilot a helicopter.

And you didn’t buy into that whole ‘once a woman hits thirty, her stock plummets’ crap. Not usually, anyway.

But Nan’s phone calls always left you questioning your existence.

Back home in Ohio, your little sister, Kendra, had just announced her pregnancy. Three years younger than you (ironically, the age you told everyone you were), and married to a power plant manager, Kendra was living the dream of a woman from the 1950s. You tried your best not to look down on it, to wish for more for her - but Kendra was happy. She’d always wanted to be a mother, and you couldn’t imagine anyone better suited for the role. There was nothing wrong with wanting to be a wife and a mother, to devoting one’s life to it. You reminded yourself of that every time you spoke to Kendra. You especially reminded yourself of it every time you spoke to Nan.

That sympathetic tone your grandmother used when she said, “Oh, Button, you’ll find someone eventually, and you’ll be just as happy as Kenny” was like nails on a chalkboard. You resisted the urge to gag into your speakerphone and simultaneously rip your grandmother a new one. You wanted so badly to explain to her that you were perfectly fulfilled with your life.

You helped lock up bad guys on a weekly basis, you wanted to remind Nan. Your brain was one of few that had been chosen for a task force that caught criminals based on their behavior. It was amazing, working for the BAU, bouncing ideas off of your colleagues, finding a family within this small group of people that spent more than forty hours a week together.

Nan didn’t see it that way. She wanted you to be just like Kendra. She wanted you to have that white picket fence in the suburbs, with a broad-shouldered husband and two little tykes running at your feet. Domestic bliss just wasn’t in the cards for you, you’d decided. And that was okay.

You were still reeling from your conversation with Nan the night before when you walked in to work on Monday morning. It was Derek who caught the raging RBF first. “Woah, pretty girl. Pump. Your. Brakes.” He said, halting you just as you entered the BAU’s bullpen, holding a hand up to stop you.

“Good morning to you, too, Derek,” You flashed him a phony grin, and he rolled his eyes.

“And you’re grumpy this morning… why, exactly?” Derek asked, turning to walk beside you, essentially escorting you to your desk.

“Because I’m allowed to be?” You proffered, shrugging your shoulders, not really wanting to talk about it with him. You loved Derek - hell, you loved all your coworkers - but he was not the person you wanted to go to with these thoughts. You didn’t really want to talk to anyone about it, actually. You just wanted to ride the cranky train until it came to a complete stop.

Emily was returning from the kitchenette with a fresh mug of coffee and decided that the conversation concerned her as well. “What’s going on?” she asked.

“Y/L/N’s wearing her cranky pants this morning,” Derek filled her in.

“Oh, those so don’t match your blouse, Y/N,” Emily teased, winking at you with a smirk before looking at Derek. “Cut her some slack. No one likes Mondays.” Derek held up his palms defensively. “Alright, alright. Forgive me for being a concerned citizen.”

“It’s appreciated,” You told Derek genuinely before setting your bag down at your desk. “But unnecessary.”

It wasn’t until later in the morning, around ten, that anyone bothered you about your obvious bad mood again. This time it was Spencer, the one person you couldn’t possibly be annoyed with. He rolled on his desk chair around the partition that separated your workspaces, holding his hand out expectantly, like he usually did this time of day.

Without speaking, you opened the bottom drawer of your desk and pulled out the white bag of mini powdered donuts that you always kept in stock. They were your guilty pleasure snack, and one of the first things you and Spencer bonded over when you started at the BAU two years ago. That, and the fact that you were the closest agents in age, was how you got along so well so quickly. Over several cases, varying in degrees of intensity, you and Spencer became really great friends. Best friends, actually.

There wasn’t anyone else in your life that you trusted more than Spencer Reid.

You opened the bag of powdered donuts and shook one haphazardly into Spencer’s palm, then grabbed one for yourself. Silently, you cheers-ed your donuts together, and ate them simultaneously, making weird-but-comfortable eye contact as you did.

“Derek says you’re in a bad mood today,” Spencer pointed out with a teasing smirk on his face. A smirk, and white sugar blanketing his upper lip.

“Derek’s full of shit,” you grinned after swallowing your snack, the smile on your face totally facetious. “I’m extremely happy.”

“I can tell,” Spencer snickered as you set the powdered donuts back in your snack drawer, closing it with a clank. You watched as he brought both of his legs up into his desk chair, crossing them like a kindergartner.

The action made your stomach flutter. You’d felt strongly about Spencer for a really long time, probably a year and half, if you had to try and pinpoint it. But there was no use in going down that road with him. For one thing, he was your best friend, and you didn’t want to risk flushing the best relationship in your life down the toilet. For another thing, you knew it was one hundred percent impossible that he could feel the same way.

“What’d you do this weekend?” Spencer asked, and you could tell by the question that he was trying to discover the source of your poor attitude.

“Stayed home, caught up on chores,” You said, crossing your knees and leaning back in your seat, your expression telling him that you knew exactly what he was doing. As much fun as playing mind games with Spencer was, you decided to throw him a bone. “Spoke to my grandmother on the phone last night.”

Spencer nodded understandingly. “Say no more,” he said with a chuckle. “She gave you the whole ‘when are you going to get married’ spiel again?”

You nodded. “Unfortunately. I usually don’t let it bother me, but for some reason it’s just, like, lurking in the back of my mind today.” You shrugged your shoulders and exhaled through your nose. “What about you?” You asked.

“What about me?” Spencer arched a brow, and you rolled your eyes playfully.

“What’d you do this weekend?”

“Oh,” Spencer began, pursing his lips for a moment, like he was hesitant to tell you. “I actually went on a date.”

Your stomach flipped. “Oh yeah?” You choked out, forcing a smile. “Who with?”

“That girl, Lisa, from the coffee shop, the one you told me wouldn’t stop ‘ogling my boy band hair’,” Spencer held up air quotes when he repeated your words from memory.

You recalled the cute barista from the coffee shop just down the highway from Quantico, a popular morning stop for agents on their way to work. You tried to stop the jealousy from turning your blood into fire. “How was it?” You asked, trying to resist the urge to sit on the edge of your seat, trying not to hang on his every word.

Spencer shrugged his shoulders. “It was okay. She was very nice, but there just wasn’t…” he trailed off, gesticulating as the words failed to come to that supercomputer brain of his.

“It was like a donut without powdered sugar on it?” You suggested with a small chuckle.

“Yeah,” Spencer agreed, nodding, meeting your eyes and smiling, mildly amused. “Exactly.”

Spencer went back to his desk a few minutes later, and the rest of the day went on. It was quiet, especially for a day at the BAU. There were, weirdly enough, no open cases right now, so you spent the day catching up on paperwork, which there was always plenty of.

You caught the elevator about ten minutes after five with Spencer in tow, and you held the door open for him. It was just the two of you as you made the descent from the sixth floor, and Spencer leaned against the back wall. “Plans tonight?” He asked.

“Not really, no,” You said, shaking your head. “Why, you want to do something?” You asked.

Spencer nodded. “There’s this landscape and nature photography exhibit at one of the galleries downtown,” he said. “Might be fun. There’s this artist, Milton Harvell, who takes photos of renowned locations around the world but zooms in on an obscure detail and gives the framed photograph to the person who correctly guesses the location.”

You smiled slowly at that. You loved it when Spencer went off on one of his tangents. You found it completely adorable. “It’s actually quite fascinating,” Spencer went on, an amused tone lining his voice, making it sound lighter. “Kind of like a Where’s Waldo, but in reverse. There was this one photograph he took of the Louvre in Paris, but he zoomed in really tightly on a young boy enjoying an ice cream cone. He even went so far as to edit the photograph to make it look like it was a different time of day. The four thousand and eighth person to view the photograph was the person who guessed the correct location.” Spencer’s head bobbed and he was smiling like an idiot.

God, you were down bad.

“Was the four thousand and eighth person… you?” You asked, narrowing your eyes at him scrupulously and allowing a teasing grin to cross your face.

“The photo’s hanging in my living room,” he confirmed.

You laughed softly. “Will there be alcohol at this function?” You asked him, and he nodded.

That was all you needed to hear.

— — —

You and Spencer went straight to the art gallery from work, sharing a cab rather than bothering with your cars. You immediately bought a glass of red wine, and began to follow him around the gallery. You weren’t an art aficionado, not by any means, but you enjoyed looking at beautiful things, and you especially enjoyed spending time with Spencer that wasn’t hunched over a dead body or trying to map out a killer’s comfort zone. It was a rare occurrence, so you tried to soak it all up as much as possible.

Plus, your Nan’s words were still lingering in the back of your head. It’ll happen for you someday, Button. Men just don’t find you strong, career types attractive. Maybe you should soften up your look a little.

You downed your first glass of wine within ten minutes, and caught one of the catering staff passing out champagne almost instantaneously after. The champagne fizzled down your throat as you strolled with Spencer through the art gallery, listening intently as he went on about each piece, rattling off whatever contextual knowledge he had. But you were a little bit biased; you could listen to him list different types of soil and find it interesting.

After the glass of champagne came another glass of champagne, and by the time you made it to the main exhibit Spencer wanted to see, your cheeks were flushed. It wasn’t that you couldn’t hold your alcohol; rather, it just made you a little bit silly. Your inhibitions were lowered, just like it would affect anyone. But with your arm looped through Spencer’s and your Nan’s nagging message still in the back of your mind, you were perhaps a little more loose than usual.

As Spencer examined the exhibit, you tapped your foot, unable to keep still, and scanned the open space. Your eyes landed on another patron of the gallery, a conventionally handsome man about your age, and you found yourself unlooping your arm from Spencer’s, subconsciously not wanting to appear taken.

“Are you gonna go talk to that guy?” Spencer asked, and you snapped your eyes back to his. “Because you can, if you want to. Don’t let me stop you.”

It was almost like he was daring you to. Spencer’s jaw seemed tense as you examined his expression, the way his gorgeous brown eyes darted from the man and back to you. “You don’t mind?” You asked, arching a brow, almost like a challenge.

Spencer shook his head, his lips pursed. “Not at all. I’ll wait here for you?”

You nodded, and turned towards the man. There wasn’t any harm in getting a guy’s number, right? Your feelings for Spencer were a lost cause, anyway. Plus, as Nan liked to point out, you weren’t getting any younger.

The man’s eyes locked on yours and he seemed to understand that you were about to speak with him. He met you halfway, and you shook his hand. “Malcolm Greene,” he introduced himself, and you spouted off your own name in return. “You’re not here with that guy?” He asked, jerking his chin over to Spencer. Your eyes followed Malcolm’s, and you saw Spencer with his body turned towards the photography exhibit, but his head turned to the side, as if he were keeping an eye on you with his peripheral vision.

“Yeah, I am,” you said, and Malcolm’s head inclined to the side. “I am. I’m here with that guy,” you panicked, suddenly realizing in that moment that you weren’t interested in speaking with Malcolm. No, you had absolutely no interest in spending your time with any other man but Spencer Reid. “I just, uh…” Your cheeks flushed, and you stifled an awkward laugh, anxiously trying to come up with some excuse. “I came over here to tell you that your shoe was united.”

Your eyes followed Malcolm’s down to his shoes, which were loafers. Laceless loafers. Malcolm’s mouth opened as if to point this out to you, but you managed to stammer words out first. “Ok, well, have a great night, goodbye!” You turned on your heel and marched back over to Spencer, your cheeks red as you reached out for his arm.

Spencer furrowed his brows down at you as your arm gripped his. “I need another glass of wine,” you confessed.

Twenty minutes later, after two more glasses of wine and a very watchful eye out for Malcolm, you and Spencer left the art gallery. You were awfully giggly on the cab ride back to your place, cracking puns and humming along to the radio intermittently. Spencer seemed to be amused, but more so concerned with getting you home in one piece.

As he walked you up the stairs to the door of your apartment building, he was teasing you about your conversation with Malcolm, which you still hadn’t told him completely about. “I still can’t believe you didn’t get his number. You were talking with him for exactly two minutes and twelve seconds. What, in that short of an amount of time, could have turned you off to him so quickly?” He pondered aloud, a playfully mocking tone lining his voice.

“Listen, I shook his hand! I had my fun!” You exclaimed, bursting into laughter as you leaned against the handrail of the stairs that led up to the door. “Good, clean fun!”

“You know, the number of pathogens that are passed during a handshake is staggering. It’s actually safer to kiss someone,” Spencer rattled off, and your eyes snapped to meet his.

You don’t know what took you over. Maybe it was the wine. Maybe it was the way the street lamps reflected in the irises of his eyes, or how you stood just a few inches away from him. Maybe it was his stupid tweed blazer, how he looked like a tenured art history professor despite barely being thirty years old. Maybe it was the way he smelled like pine and printer ink, a combination you wouldn’t have ever thought was attractive.

But when Spencer said that, you stood up on your toes and kissed him. It was slow and innocent at first, until it passed the border into lingering, and Spencer’s hands found your hips, pulling your body closer to his. There was a cool night breeze that filtered through the space between your bodies, and by the time you pulled your lips away from Spencer’s, and slowly opened your eyes, you were completely red in the face and breathless.

No, that certainly wasn’t the safest choice you could have made.

——

read part 2 here

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hailturinturambar · 15 days ago

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Thoughts on J.D and Patrick's interview (PART II)

The year can't end without one more analysis! By the way, I want to do more analysis of the show, but I haven't decided yet, so suggestions are always welcome! This interview is from August, but that's okay. After all, there are so many interviews that I'm almost lost!

Come on, one of the best things about the show, at least to me, is always the prologue. The prologue to the first season has a very well-structured foundation of the Elder Days and the beginning of Arda.

Morgoth's introduction as the First Enemy was brief but still impactful. However, nothing could have prepared me for the breathtaking prologue to season two.

We were all curious about the beginning of Sauron's journey. But the prologue was better than I could have hoped for.

I'm glad they changed it for season 2, I don't think it would have worked very well in season 1. Would they have introduced Sauron mid-season or would the scenes have been cut?

The second season is darker, so I think the dark prologue was ideal. We know a lot about Sauron's past in the books, but not in the adaptations. In the movies, for example, he's just Sauron, the Dark Lord, there's nothing more about him than that.

Well, I couldn't agree more. In episode eight of season one, just like Galadriel, we know that Sauron is the Enemy and that's it. But what do we know about Sauron before his encounter with Galadriel and his path of evil?

I really like that in TROP Sauron is not romanticized, but we are introduced to his past, to the events that shaped him and led him to do everything he did. Only when we know someone's past are we able to understand their actions.

I started rewatching TROP on December 23rd and I'm already at the end of the second season, and they're right. When we watch the first season again, after the prologue of the second season, everything seems different. No scene seems simple or out of place, no word seems meaningless.

We look at scenes in Númenor, for example, and we're like, "Yeah, that makes sense! That's why Halbrand/Sauron behaved like that." It's really interesting. Because I never thought the show would go that way in 2022.

We started and ended the first season with the question, "Who is Sauron?" In the second season, we finally know. Because we get to follow Sauron after Morgoth's defeat and how he tried to rise again. We see how he was betrayed by Adar and spent centuries recovering. And most importantly, we find out how Halbrand ended up on the cursed raft.

Tolkien left some great passages open, didn't he? These long passages of time without information are great for piquing our curiosity. And I don't know if Tolkien thought about them, after all, he had a very long story with many characters, maybe he left that blank period aside.

And I loved how this was worked into the series. Because in the books after Morgoth's defeat and Sauron's refusal to return to Valinor, we don't have much information. I always wondered how he ended up in Eregion or when this idea came to his mind.

I try my best to pay attention to the details in the show, there is always hidden information. And it is extremely satisfying to watch the passage of time in Sauron's transformation. We know from the books that Sauron can return, but we don't know how that process works.

So it's fascinating to watch time pass, the climate change, but Sauron's form also change. From a tangle of worms emerging from a pool of blood, to Sauron's mortal form as Halbrand.

I humbly believe that Sauron does feel pain. When Morgoth fought Fingolfin, Morgoth felt pain and his pain reverberated throughout Middle-earth. Morgoth felt pain because he had been in one form for too long, just as Sauron did. Sauron spent too much time assuming many forms, so why wouldn't he feel pain if a Valar was able to feel it?

In my opinion, the key point in any show or book is the "what if?" What if Sauron felt pain? What if Sauron is capable of having feelings? The what if is the big cherry on the cake that keeps our curiosity and makes us spend hours theorizing about a character.

I think Sauron is capable of feeling everything, whether it be emotions or pain. However, I believe that this feeling is not as we imagine it. It is, as has been said, an ambiguous feeling. We will never be able to understand the extent of Sauron's honesty about what he is demonstrating or pretending to feel.

Now that's a point that keeps me awake! In case you don't remember, I commented on my opinion about the sea monster in my analysis of Sauron and Galadriel.

The sea monster and Sauron is a never-ending question. Because as Payne said, Sauron may have seized the opportunity, or it escaped his reach. Could the Valar be trying to destroy Sauron? Maybe, it would make a lot of sense.

I'll go a little further. The Valar may have sent the monster to destroy Sauron before he could do any more damage. But Sauron is a dark master and knows all beasts, so he may have influenced the monster so that he wouldn't be killed in the shipwreck. So why would the monster attack the raft?

A second attempt by the Valar? Maybe. But I like to play with the idea that Sauron summoned the monster when he recognized Galadriel. That way the humans were eliminated and he had his path clear for deception. I guess we'll never know!

The problem of writing stories as tales of legends is that we miss a lot of things. I say this from experience. Because in my book that I wrote this year, the prologue is a story about more than 200 years about the old times in the history before the first chapter. And a lot of things happened in these 200 years of history. So, if I were to rewrite each passage, a lot of new information would emerge.

This is the big difference between the show and the movies. In the trilogy (or the Hobbit trilogy) the Third Age material is all written, it just needs to be adapted. But in the First and Second Ages, a lot of things are reported, but not detailed.

Giving the Ring to Círdan could involve infinite possibilities, but we don't know them. Personally, I loved the ring story created for the show. All the depth given to the scene and the giving of the rings was a spectacle.

Yes, all adaptations have their flaws and successes. But overall, I am extremely pleased with the adaptation of TROP and the changes or additions made by those involved. An adaptation is never exactly the same as the book, we know that. But what I love about TROP is that we are presented with scenes that make us think, "Oh yeah, that's something Tolkien would have written!"

#the rings of power #trop #the lord of the rings #tolkien #the silmarillion #sauron #annatar #galadriel #mairon #trop spoilers #morfydd clark #charlie vickers #lotr #j.d payne #patrick mckay #rop #adar #jack lowden #my analysis

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josgalaxy · 21 days ago

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MY PERSONAL RANKING OF BALDUR'S GATE 3 COMPANIONS FROM WORST TO BEST (spoiler alert!!!)

Of course this is just my humble and personal opinion, let me know if you agree! Trigger warning, I have a lot to say:

11. The Emperor

I know he's not technically a companion, but let's be honest, he is with Tav since day one. Let's just say this one is a shady bitch. From the get go I didn't trust the Emperor, and going forward with the game my suspicions were confirmed. Not only he literally exploited everyone that could help him reach his goals, but he shows no true loyalty to anyone but to himself.

Proof that the Emperor is just a gaslighting bastard: 1. Lied to the whole party by changing his appearence to seem more trustworthy 2. Killed his dragon bestie Ansur that was just trying to find a cure for him. 3. Kept a Gith prince imprisoned to exploit his power and was willing to eat his brains out to get more powerful. 4. Tried to sleep with Tav and secure their trust (btw, a kinky bitch). 5. LITERALLY SIDED WITH THE BIG BAD NETHERBRAIN as soon as Tav was not okay being manipulated anymore (like babygirl, you spent the entire game telling me we had to kill that thing and now you're ending up siding with it? Excuse me??)

So, yes, The Emperor deserves to rot and I was very happy to fry that calamari.

10. Minsc (and Boo)

So, I haven't played bg2, so I don't have that kind of attachment to the old characters. I don't mind that he is juts this brainless hunk, and I like the fact that he carries a cute hamster with him. He kinda reminds me of Kronk, and I love Kronk so he gets a few points for that. But other than some muscles, dumb jokes, and Boo, what else is there?

Let's just say that he made me smile a couple of times, but I got bored of him (but not the hamster) almost instantly.

9. Jaheira

Same here folks, I appreciate Jaheira but I don't feel that attached to her as the rest of the companions (probably because of the fact that she and Minsc are introduced in the game quite late). I mean, you get this badass milf Elf (mother is mothering) that can turn into a panther and has a cute accent... how can you not like her? But do I find her as interesting as other chatacters in the game? Not really.

I would probably share a drink with the tho, to hear all the stories from back in her day.

8. Wyll

Before any of you come for me for putting The Blade of the Frontier this low, let me explain. I like Wyll, I like the fact that he is a dancer, he's romantic, and that his main goal is to help people. I mean, he made a pact with a literal devil to save his city! Don't get me wrong, I think I would be friends with him irl, but as for character growth and depth, I think he passes off to be more bland than the rest of the companions, probably for his too goody two shoes attitude.

Let's just say if he was a spice, he would be flour. Sorry.

7. Minthara

You see, a long time ago my first playthrough, when I met Minty, I seriously contemplated killing all the Tieflings just to be with her. This is just to let you have an idea of the hold this woman has on me. HAVE YOU SEEN HER? Apart from being a hottie, and incredibly useful in combat as a paladin, she is hilarious without even trying. When you see an [ ! ] over her head you know for a fact she is about to tell something UNHINGED. I'm gagging.

Anyway, just so you know I haven't sacrified the tieflings to recruit her. I'm not a monster. I simply knocked mommy out and found her in Moonrise Towers.

6. Lae'zel

I believe Giths and Drows are quite similar: they both crave violence and see any kind of kindness and compassion as weaknesses. But what makes Lae'zel a better character than Minthara, is the fact that she evolves from her prejudices and violence, while the drow doesn't. She starts off as this ruthless and closeminded character, but later on she learns to challenge authority and her tyrant, save her people, find compassion in others and fall in love.

I think her romance is one of the best ones in the game. It starts off as a simple one night stand where she tries to dominate you, pure physical, but then she starts to soften and open up to Tav. I mean the rooftop scene where she calls you Source of my Joy?? Sounds more like Bae'zel to me.

5. Gale of Waterdeep

To be honest, Gale is literally my type irl: a hot scruffy nerd whose ideal Saturday night is reading a book and drinking some wine in front of the fireplace. Also, he has a cat! He is a bit of yapper, I know, but I find him quite charming, even though he eats magical boots from time to time in order not to explode and kill everyone in the vicinity

I believe Gale had the potential to be a heart-throb, but the only thing that gave me the ick about him, was the fact that he is too obsessed with his ex! I get it, she is the goddess of magic, but that doesn't change the fact the she literally groomed him since he was a child. He was willing to go full Manhattan Project just to get her approval. You are cute magic man, but you need to get over your ex.

4. Halsin

May the Oakfather protect me. He is such a dreamboat. He is kind and forgiving with everyone, loves animal and nature - duh, is great with kids, and let's not forget he is absolutely gigantic (points for him). He even carves out a wooden duck for you at the end, so cute! I love the fact that he knows his boundaries and is particularly attentive to respect everyone, like when he flirts with Tav but will wait for them to speak with their partner in order to have an open relationship.

I know he may not have the same depth some other characters have, but who cares?? Teddy Bear over here is fine as he is. What can I say, I'm a sucker for big men that try to be gentle.

3. Shadowheart

Shar's favourite Princess is one of my favourite characters in the game. She starts off as being wary and skeptical about Tav, but she quickly opens up as soon as one shows her kindness. Which is heartbreaking since she led her life following the Lady of Loss, hence without any kindness or compassion. Her backstory is particulary well made, so that you can truly see her growth: from standoffish, she ends up being such a goofy and sweet character. From putting all her faith in a goddess that has literally taken everything from her, she then learns how to discover herself and prioritise her feelings for the first time. I love that for her.

She is quite frustraing sometimes since she keeps missing in combat, but we love our emo babygirl anyway.

2. Astarion

So, the only reason I didn't put Astarion in first place, is because I know for a fact that in real life I would LOATHE the man. But we're not irl, so his gaslighting and manipulative tricks are overshadowed by his witty answers, his flirtatious expressions and the incredible velvety voice of his (thanks Neil Newbon). And to think that I thought I had successfully avoided the Vampire phase... well, I hadn't met this diva right here.

His backstory is one of the most heartbreaking, and with the right choices, I believe he can grow more than any other companion, which is why he is such a fan favourite among the fans. He starts off as being a vain and manipulative twink, but as you get to know of his past and the horrible things he has been through, you realise he is simply a victim that doesn't know any better.

I just love his confession scene to Tav: "I had a nice, simple plan - seduce you and manipulate your feelings. All you had to do was fall for it. And all I had to do was not fall for you... which is where my nice simple plan fell apart." EXCUSE ME?? WHAT ARE WE TALKING ABOUT??

1. Karlach

She's an icon, she's a legend, and she is the moment.

Ladies and Gentlemen, Karlach officially is the most likable companion of this messy rank. From the first moment you meet her, it's so difficult not to fall in love with this fireball of energy and kindness. Her backstory is probably the saddest of them all: a hopeful kid that gets betrayed and forced to live with a deadly engine that will one day burn her from the inside, like a tragic metaphor for an illness.

She is also smocking hot (and not just because she is literally burning), I mean, the tats, the muscles, the badass hair and half horn?? Child, she ate and left no crumbs. She is a total smokeshow, and despite her bubbly personality she is not afraid to be a bit sexy and flirtatious. Can we talk about the: "I wanna ride you 'till you see stars" YES MA'AM, PLEASE MA'AM.

But in spite of everything bad that has happened to her, Karlach is always smiley, loves her friends deeply and uses every moment to be a goofball and dance around. She is too pure for this world, which is why you feel that her horrible fate is particularly unfair to someone like Karlach. To be honest, her scene in the harbour after defeating the brain is heartbreaking.

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So folks, here it is my personal ranking from least to most likable companions of Baldur's Gate 3.

Let me know what do you think!

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shadow4-1 · 4 months ago

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Here's an artist's addition to the "Original Gaz is Remake Gaz's dad headcanon" that I love so dearly.

- Remake Gaz's mom is Nigerian (Original Gaz met and married her while deployed).

- Remake Gaz gets most of his good looks and humor from his mom, but he gets his professionalism and manners from his dad.

- Original Gaz was special forces and highly decorated before he retired to care for Baby Remake Gaz after his wife got cancer (He and Price may or may not know each other personally, but have definitely heard of each other.)

- Original Gaz was very hard on Remake Gaz while he was growing up - pushing him to be a better soldier/man than he ever was. (Definitely left Gaz in the woods with nothing but a compass and some camping supplies and told him "meet me back at the house" kind of future military training.)

- Original Gaz loves his wife and Remake Gaz more than anything else in the world, he's just horrible at communicating (and it's why Gaz seeks out Price's praise - he's got daddy issues + Price is much more open and direct).

- Remake Gaz loves his mom more than anyone else on the planet. She got breast cancer when he was very young and so he spent a lot of time at her side during her recovery. He uses the mental image of her alone and vulnerable to push himself past his limits. He fights for her, and the rest of the innocents like her back on the homefront (he keeps this photo tucked into the inner band of his dad's cap that was given to him).

- Original Gaz was coined "Gaz" during his term because he once set off a minor explosion of gas canisters during basic training. Remake Gaz was also coined "Gaz" after his father's moniker, but only because he short circuited one of his barracks' breaker box and started an electrical fire. His CO then remembered the original fiasco and put two and two together - realizing that Remake Gaz was Original Gaz's son and thus also dubbing him "Gaz".

These are the reference images I used of Original Gaz and Remake Gaz. It's more probable that the devs just wanted Remake Gaz to have a similar look to the Original Gaz, but I see plenty of familial similarities (long and straight nose bridge, similar chin and jawline, same slope of the shoulders, and almost identical eye shape to name a few). In my humble opinion, like father like son:

#i just want gaz to have some backstory #call of duty #mw2 #cod imagines #mw2 headcanons #cod mwii #kyle gaz garrick #kyle garrick

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genericpuff · 4 months ago

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WTs behavior sure is... *something* to watch as a latecommer. you've covered it all better than I can articulate but damn does it ever haunt that they've essentially tripled-down on Rachel as the winning racehorse, someone who's historically been the most "go girl give us nothing" (if not worse than nothing) of all their past bigshots even w/o the trust in the show sinking lower and lower day by silent day.

It's not a profound remark but I stand in the on going scene like "This is it? Your plan?" as they keep digging. They desperately need something new to have breakout popularity, but they can't do that if they don't take in new blood, which they won't because new blood is a risk, etc. And so the scene is damned anew.

look, off the non-existent record that is my shitposting blog, as someone who just spent half an hour listening to their recent conference call with Goldman Sachs... in my very humble opinion, there is allegedly a metric FUCKTON of copium being huffed and I don't think the Goldman Sachs rep even realizes how much he's being talked down to. It's actually fucking hilarious. And I'm just a dweeb on the Internet, I shouldn't be sitting here picking up on the condescending vibes for what they are throughout a meeting that talks about shit like investment opportunities and quarterly returns and advertising metrics but... let's just say, WT's CFO David Lee's statement, "...proof will be in quarters I release, and I'm humbled by the reaction to my Q2 release which, again, I have to say, I thought I over delivered every single metric... but here we are, and I just have to continue to post results I guess to help educate all of you on the business I think we have" is even more passive aggressive to hear than it is to read, soooo here we are. Like, the chirpy tone in his voice just makes me think of this:

and yeah at this point they're beating the dead horse that is LO harder than the critical community is because even the critical community has largely moved on with their lives and only talk about it casually with other critical readers; meanwhile Webtoons is seriously over here trying to sell people on LO as if it's still 2021 and they're not years late to the party 💀 Even that quote I included in my last post saying that Rachel got started "4 or 5 years ago"... Lore Olympus launched in the Canvas section in 2017 and then as an Originals in March 2018. It's been longer than 4 years, Mr. Lee, and at this point the amount of time that's passed since selling its TV rights to Jim Henson Company will exceed the amount of time it took to even complete the comic in the first place 😭😆 The time to capitalize on LO's success was when it was successful, not 3-4 years after the fact.

#ask me anything #ama #anon ama #anon ask me anything #lore olympus critical #anti lore olympus #lo critical #webtoon critical #i hope Webtoons cries about how mean i am in their next meeting :) <3 #and i'm not joking btw when i say the way he said that statement is SO FUCKING SALTY #it's literally like “i tHoUgHt i oVeR-dELiVeReD eVeRy siNgLe mEtRiC”#idk if i can legally share the audio #but trust me it's wild

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therhythmafterthesummer · 2 years ago

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Are You There, Wolf? (M) ~Lee Know

Pairing: Werewolf!Minho x Human!F.Reader Themes: Supernatural/Fantasy AU | Smut | Fluff | Best Friends to Lovers Word Count: ~8k | AO3 Synopsis: Minho had always deemed himself a bit of a weirdo. In his humble opinion, he’d only become even weirder with time, especially after he acquired his supernatural… condition. He’d never cared much about it, not when you’d always been there for him, and hopefully you would always be. [This is an instalment of my WereRoomies series. You don’t particularly need to read the other instalments related to Minho to understand this, but it’ll add more depth to the story if you do, so I highly recommend it~]. Warnings: Minho’s POV · mentions of shooting guns [it’s an off-handed comment made by Minho, nothing serious, but figured i’d put a warning] · mentions of gambling · mentions of cheating [but no one cheated] · mentions of blood, injuries, and violence · near death experiences · Minho was dumb and in denial for a long while · mentions and depictions of monster fucking shenanigans · graphic depictions of intercourse (smut warnings under the cut).

Author’s Note: this originally started as a smutty drabble inspired by an ask from an anon… somehow it grew hands and beat me up and made me black out and now we’ve got a full instalment. a chunk of it is just stuff that happened in other instalments, but with Minho’s input. hope you enjoy ! special thanks to @notastraykid for reading this and letting me know it wasn’t the worst piece of literature she’s ever read.

Due to all the abovementioned warnings, this story is intended for an adult audience only. Minors please do not interact.

Minho's previous WereRoomies instalments: Camping With Wolves & Dog Unleashed

Smut Warnings: mentions of oral · somnophilia [all acts related to it are consensual] · unprotected penetration [piv. no barrier method, but reader is presumed to be on birth control] · creampie

Disclaimer: the story represented in this work does not represent Stray Kids in any way; anything described in this story and all actions performed by the characters are purely fictional, this was created just for good fun.

Minho always believed himself to be a rational man. He was also an animal, yes. But his animal instincts were, essentially, stunted.

He wasn’t sure if it was because he was born human and turned into a werewolf when he was very young, or if there was something wrong with him in general–he honestly wouldn’t be surprised if that were the case.

Jisung–who’d been the first other werewolf Minho ever befriended–believed it to be the first option. He had encouraged Minho to go to a specialist and ask, but Minho never really paid much attention to it.

He figured that, as long as he didn’t feel ill or that he didn’t hurt anyone around him, it didn’t really matter.

However, just how many psychologists and therapists by trade seemed to choose that career path in order to understand their own brains and behaviours, sometimes he wondered if his own inability to understand his animal needs was what fully drove him into becoming a vet.

Sure, he had always cared for animal’s safety, he always knew one too many facts about many different critters, and with all the injured animals that seemed to come his way when he was a kid, he had spent more time at the vet’s office than he did in his own home. He supposed all things combined played a role in his career choice, and that had certainly helped him understand himself a little better… kind of.

Minho was a simple man. A man that, in a sick twist of fate, ended up becoming the dictionary definition of a monster.

He’d admit that for a long time, he blamed himself for what had happened to him. ‘Maybe if I hadn’t taken that detour through the woods that time I wouldn’t have been turned’, ‘Maybe if I had been paying attention to my surroundings I wouldn’t have been bit’, ‘Maybe I did something horrible in a past life or this one to warrant such an event’, he’d always think about these things whenever the pains and aches caused by his condition were a bit too strong to bear.

It took him an even longer time to accept the fact that it hadn’t been his fault at all. Nothing could’ve ever prepared him for the situation. He would’ve never been able to predict that a giant wolf would come out of nowhere and bite him completely unprompted.

To this day, over ten years later, Minho still couldn’t remember what the wolf looked like.

It all happened so fast… All he could remember was the fuzzy canine shape, the sound of growls and snarls and of his own bones cracking inside his body, along with the searing pain that spread from the gash that the creature had left on his side.

He couldn’t remember the bleeding, or the amount of time he spent laying on the forest ground, or even the moment he was eventually found. One second he was in an immense amount of pain, and the next he was completely fine, as if nothing had happened, laying on a hospital bed with his best friend hugging him and sobbing against his chest.

Minho could’ve never imagined that that event in the woods would change the way he interacted with the world forever.

One seemingly normal evening after what he thought had been ‘an accident’, while he was hanging out in his best friend’s home, doing their weekly watch of Kamen Rider, it was like something suddenly started rattling inside of him. Like an itch one can’t seem to scratch satisfactorily.

He couldn’t breathe, his joints hurt, all his muscles seemed to burn, and before he knew it, he was feeling parts of his body he had never felt before. His vision felt different, his sense of smell was overwhelmed, and although his surroundings were familiar, it was almost like he was seeing them from someone else’s perspective.

Needless to say, he was having a full on meltdown right then and there. Especially when he caught what he thought would be a glimpse of himself on a reflective surface, and what he saw instead was a dog… Well, more accurately, a wolf.

To this day, he was very grateful that it all happened while you, his best friend, were there with him. Minho honestly wasn’t sure how he would’ve reacted had he been on his own. He could still remember the panic he felt, how much he was crying, how much you were crying. Things would’ve probably been very different if you hadn’t hugged him tight and reassured him time and time again that you’d be there for him… That you wanted to figure this out together.

When he had finally understood what had happened to him in the woods, and after many trips to the local library to do some digging on the internet, you both came to the conclusion that the most logical explanation to his newfound condition was that he was now afflicted with lycanthropy… And it wasn’t the psychological kind.

Which was crazy.

Completely absurd.

But what seemed to be sourced in fantasy and myths was literally the only thing that matched his symptoms perfectly.

Everything was confusing for a long time after that. Everything was too loud, too bright, too intense… His already sensitive senses seemed to be overstimulated all day, every day–even worse than before–and he could hardly cope.

He could hear conversations that were happening metres away from him, he could hear people’s breathing and their heartbeats and sometimes other internal organs as well… It was honestly driving him a little bit insane.

Minho realised very quickly that having a supernaturally enhanced sense of smell when he was starting high school was quite possibly one of the worst things to ever happen to him. Having been turned into a werewolf was hard enough on its own, now he had to deal with teenagers that seemed to hold a grudge against soap.

When it all got too overwhelming, he simply got close to you. As close as he could. He was sure he had memorised the rhythm of your heartbeat at this point, and the constant, familiar sound always seemed to help ease his sour mood.

‘Have you gotten a new perfume? Or a new fabric softener?’ He couldn’t help but ask one day. He’d noticed recently that there seemed to be a scent of lavender lingering around him whenever you were close. He didn’t mind. In fact, it actually comforted him quite a bit.

‘You know I don’t use fabric softener, dummy. And no, I haven’t gotten a new perfume’, your answer puzzled him a bit, but it wasn’t until a handful of months later, when he finally met Jisung, that he understood what that lavender scent was.

When Minho first met Jisung, he was honestly a bit surprised. Mostly because the second Jisung was within his radius, it was almost like he could tell the younger boy was a werewolf, too. There was something about the smell of roses and cotton radiating from Jisung that just gave it away, although Minho didn’t know how, or why.

Jisung quickly became an integral part of his friend group–although, to be fair, ‘group’ was a big word to use, considering you were the only real friend Minho had, and the one he consistently hung out with. What used to be a simple pair of weirdos became a trio of weirdos, and Minho was genuinely happy about that.

He immediately felt like he could trust Jisung, and in the long run, Minho was grateful for his presence. Not only because Jisung was funny and eloquent and he also enjoyed watching niche TV shows, but also because Jisung helped him understand this unexplored side of him.

‘You’re an alpha, clearly’, Jisung told Minho once. As if that meant something important. ‘Your scent is kind of… Like, you smell of vanilla and a recently lit bonfire. Somehow very alpha-like, but milder than what I’m used to, I suppose…’

Jisung explained to him all these werewolf designations of alphas, betas, and omegas that were based on a werewolf’s inherent nature… He explained what scents were, how to tell what status a wolf had based on their scent, and when he confirmed that humans did, in fact, also have a scent, Minho just knew then that that lavender scent he always smelt when you were close was simply your natural scent. Just like cotton and roses was Jisung’s.

Meeting Jisung–aside from meeting you–was possibly one of the best things that could’ve ever happened to Minho. Not only did Jisung become one of his best friends in this whole wide world, not only did he help Minho understand his newfound nature, but also, thanks to him, Minho was finally able to find a family of his own.

Being honest, in his hometown, Minho didn’t have anyone but you. His mother barely even gave him the time of day–mostly because she was busy working two or three jobs to support them both.

When his now step-dad came into the picture, money was no longer a problem, but by that point Minho had already been turned, and that, coupled with the fact that his step-dad wasn’t really that good of a man, was enough for him to distance himself from his relatives.

Minho also had Jisung for a while, but he eventually left town because his entire pack was moving out. That was fine, he was sure they would meet again eventually. Besides, technology around that time made it so it was hardly possible to not be in contact with someone.

After high school, when Minho finally decided to pursue higher education–to pursue his dream of becoming a vet–the university he wanted to study in was, coincidentally, in the same area where Jisung was living then. And not only was Jisung living there, he was in a pack. A different one from his childhood one.

Back in the early stages of his friendship with Jisung, he had explained to Minho that werewolves usually lived in packs, just like regular wolves did. Jisung’s childhood pack didn’t treat omegas that well, from what Minho could recall. So, being an omega himself, Jisung always felt like a bit of an outcast. The fact that he had found a pack where he was actually comfortable was a big deal, and Minho was genuinely happy for his friend.

Even though the pack was essentially only three young wolves, Jisung always spoke highly of his two other packmates. ‘Chris and Changbin are amazing people, dude. Never met wolves like them aside from, like… you. I think you’d be a great addition to our pack, and Chris agrees! Come meet them, you won’t regret it’.

And he didn’t regret it. Not one bit. If anything, joining Chris’ pack, becoming close to him and Changbin to help them lead it, was the third best thing that could’ve ever happened to Minho.

‘Changbin’s my right hand. Although it doesn’t make much sense to have a second in command when we’re, like, three dudes only, I feel like at any point more people could join us, so I like to be prepared’, Chris, the leader–the alpha–of that pack of Jisung’s wasn’t that much older than Minho, but there was something about him that exuded leadership and comfort. It was so obvious even someone like Minho, who wasn’t that in touch with his wolf instincts, was able to tell this man was a real alpha.

‘It’s very customary for the alpha of the pack to have at least two other people next to them to deal with all possible pack matters, and Jisung believes you might be suitable for that. He said, and I quote, that you have a heart of gold. He vouches for you, and I trust him, so if you want to join and help me out, you’re more than welcome to. Hell, you’re welcome even if you don’t want to help me lead specifically, but it’s important you know that as a pack, we must always look out for each other’, Chris’ proposal was straight forward. No matter what role Minho would fill in, he was welcome to join them.

Being honest with himself, Minho wasn’t really that much of a leader–not in his opinion, at least–but the prospect of joining a pack seemed to tickle something on the back of his mind. He supposed it was one of those instinctual things he didn’t understand well, but, in a way, Chris made him feel reassured, so he told him he’d be happy to join and help him out however he could. With one condition, though.

‘You see, I’ve got my best friend… Not sure if Jisung has told you about her. She’s human, and she’s very important to me. If joining your pack of werewolves means I can’t see her anymore then I’m not doing it’, Minho loved Jisung, and he had a good impression of Chris and Changbin, but, truly, if joining them meant he had to leave you behind, he’d much rather stay on his own.

He knew from Jisung that the moment you moved into a werewolf den, a lot of decisions had to involve the alpha’s approval, and considering you were human, Minho had a genuine fear of Chris telling him that humans simply weren’t allowed. He’d honestly much rather shoot himself in the leg than have to cut ties with you. You’d been the only constant in his life, and losing you was something he just couldn’t afford. You meant too much to him. Maybe more than he would’ve liked to admit back then.

Thankfully, Chris didn’t seem to have major issues with that. If anything, all he did was ask to meet you before you could stay at his den, and as long as you were someone that could be trusted, he wouldn’t have any problems with your presence at the den. That was fine, there was no doubt in Minho’s mind that Chris would like you and see just how nice you were.

He had obviously been right. Your first time meeting Chris couldn’t have gone more smoothly. Not even fifteen minutes passed and he was already dragging Minho to the side and telling him it was all good.

‘I think she’s nice. It’s fine by me if your kitten drops by or stays over whenever you guys want’, Chris had patted him on the back, with a teasing grin on his face, taking special care to stress the word kitten–which was a nickname Minho had given you randomly one day years ago while trying to cheer you up.

Giving you that nickname had been a moment of weakness, a moment in which he also had been sad and his inhibitions had lowered a bit. The pet name just fell out of his mouth, it had practically been a perfect textbook definition of a Freudian slip, considering Minho had, quite stupidly, developed a crush on you by then.

Chris was a good person, but he also seemed to enjoy teasing Minho whenever his more than obvious crush presented itself, even when Minho himself was in denial about it.

Minho was convinced you didn’t feel anything other than platonic love towards him, so he always tried to delude himself into thinking he absolutely didn’t have a crush on you. You were his best friend, one of the most important people in his life, and he would never risk losing you over what he believed to be unrequited feelings.

Sometimes, though, it was almost impossible not to think about you in ways that would definitely be considered inappropriate. It was easy in his day to day life, but, twice a year, he had to face the fact that his feelings for you went beyond your friendship…

Minho was well aware that he was a weird guy. Throughout his life, he had only ever cared about animals, Kamen Rider, and you and Jisung. He could hardly hold a normal, civil conversation if it didn’t involve any of those things, he said things and had odd habits that could potentially put off people around him, and that was only on his human side. His wolf side was a whole other can of worms.

He already had a hard time understanding his basic human needs, and that seemed to triple when it came to his animal needs. For a long time he couldn’t tell when he needed to go on a run, or when he was in a bad mood because of a weird scent around him, and no need to even get started on whatever the hell was happening with his ruts…

Figuring out that he now had to go through days of unbearable horniness was by far one of the weirdest experiences Minho ever had to deal with during this whole ‘being turned into a half animal’ thing. After he reached sexual maturity, twice a year, he had a time period of around four to five days when every single one of his instincts and senses pulled him into a trance-like state in which all he wanted to do was fuck.

But not only did he want to fuck… He specifically wanted to breed someone. And even more specifically, he wanted to breed you.

It was awful. The whole ordeal was physically, emotionally, and mentally exhausting.

The first time he went into rut, he was sure the pain he was feeling came close to the one he briefly felt back when he had been bit and turned. His body was increasingly warm, he was sweating buckets, his cock was hard for an almost criminal amount of time, and nothing he did made it better.

Even if he managed to make himself come, it barely helped him feel relieved. If anything, it got him more frustrated, to the point where he would start breaking things around him–both intentionally and unintentionally.

The worst part of going into rut, though, was the thoughts he had throughout those days. He could only think of you. Of kissing you, of tasting those utmost sensitive areas of your body, of bending you over and ramming himself into you until he got tied to you and got to fill you to the brim with his cum…

Logic was something that didn’t exist for him in this time period, so those thoughts ran freely in his mind for the duration of his rut… thoughts that he had to come face to face once his rut subsided and he could think like a human again instead of a horny dog.

Needless to say, Minho couldn’t look at your face for a whole month after he went through his first rut. He was haunted by the images his imagination had produced at the time, and he was convinced you didn’t deserve that, that he had somehow broken your trust. It was something he never spoke about with anyone. Not even Jisung. He made a vow to keep this a secret in order to protect your friendship.

Little did Minho know that his friendship with you didn’t need to be protected from anything…

Many years after his first rut, sharing a bed with you during one fateful trip to the woods with the whole pack, was all it took for the line of your friendship to blur completely. Minho had been in denial about his feelings for so long, he had been completely blind to your feelings.

That night, with his senses enhanced by the moon, with his animal instincts bubbling to the forefront of his human mind, that need for you seemed to be impossible to ignore. While he laid with you on that bed, under the covers, being your big spoon, he couldn’t help but get lost in how fast your heart was beating the tighter he hugged you, he was drowning in your lavender scent, and he genuinely didn’t want to be rescued.

You staring at his mouth for a moment too long while he hovered over you had suddenly ignited a spark of hope deep within him. That, added to your increased heart rate, and what he couldn’t mistake for anything other than arousal lingering in your scent, was quickly making him delirious.

‘Kitten… Why are you… Why are you looking at my mouth?’

‘Just thinking…’

‘About?’

‘Things I should not be thinking about’.

After the words came out of your mouth, and with all the sensory inputs around him, Minho suddenly felt so incredibly stupid.

How had he never noticed that your body seemed to react to him in the same ways his did to you? How long had it been doing that? He had been blindsided by his own desperate attempts to not drive you away from him with his feelings, he had never noticed you looking at him in the same way he looked at you.

He wasn’t sure if it had been the moon reinforcing his stunted instincts just enough to enhance his questionable sense of awareness, but as he looked at you, as he saw just how blown your pupils were, as he watched you stare at his mouth, all caution flew out the window. For once, he decided to take a chance, and the moment his lips made contact with yours, the moment the tiniest of moans left your mouth with the contact, he just knew he had made the right choice.

Kissing you, after so many years of trying not to think of what it would feel like, was even better than he could’ve ever imagined. Minho was ravenous, desperate to feel as much of you as he possibly could, and you, very clearly, were in a similar state.

You both agreed–while still kissing, if he might add–that you needed to discuss the situation, but, admittedly, neither of you wanted to stop. So you didn’t, but only after reaching a compromise to talk about it later.

Minho honestly couldn’t even tell how many times you both had sex that night. It seemed like he’d entered a time pocket in which the only thing that mattered was indulging in each other’s body as many times as you possibly could.

By the time you were both thoroughly satisfied, he simply hugged you close under the covers, relishing the feel of your bare skin against his, relishing the feel of your head on his chest and his arms around your frame. Hugging you to sleep, especially this intimately, was everything he could’ve ever hoped for.

It wasn’t like he’d never hugged you to sleep. He’d shared a bed with you many times in the past, but doing it after having your lips on his, after knowing how it felt like to be inside you, and the mere idea that you reciprocated his feelings, was enough to make him fall asleep smiling to himself like a fool.

Even the next morning, when Minho woke up, still very much naked, when he turned around to find you already awake and looking at him, he couldn’t help but smile like a fool once again. Especially not when you were smiling so bright yourself.

“Morning”, you mumbled, immediately shuffling closer so you could tuck your head under his chin and hug his waist.

“Morning, kitten”, Minho pressed a kiss to the top of your head and hugged you even closer, slotting one of his legs between yours to further tangle your limbs together.

You just hummed, nuzzling his neck before you started to press kisses on it. Your soft lips on his skin sent a shiver down his spine, which certainly didn’t help ease the effects of morning wood.

Minho was drowsy, maybe even still horny, but he needed to have this conversation with you, or he was sure he’d explode. “Can we talk about it now?”

You pulled yourself away from his neck to look him in the eyes. Reaching forward with your hand, you pushed his hair out of his eyes, and the movement made them fall shut. “What do you wanna talk about?”

You kept playing with his hair for a bit, then traced the features of his face with the pad of one of your fingers, until his eyes opened again.

“I need to know where we go from here”.

You took a deep breath, mulling his words. Finally, you retracted your hand from his face to hold his hand instead. “Minho, I let you do things to me last night that I’ve never let anyone else do. I don’t know about you, but I hope where we go from here is a relationship”.

Minho couldn’t help but wonder then if he would ever stop smiling like a fool after all this. “So you’re my girlfriend now? Is this what we’re doing?”

“Only if you’re my boyfriend”, you chuckled, leaning in to press a brief kiss on his cheek.

Minho hugged your waist, and he pulled you closer into him. “Mmm… Your ex is gonna have a field day if he ever finds out”.

Your ex had spent the last leg of your relationship with him convinced you had cheated on him with Minho. During the big fight that led to your breakup, he had told you how obvious it was that Minho had feelings for you. At the time you just dumped his ass, and Minho, Jisung, and you spent a whole evening just dragging his name through the mud.

That relationship didn’t last long anyway. He was probably, in Minho’s opinion, the worst partner you had ever had. He was insecure, misogynistic, and manipulative. You hadn’t cheated on him, but Minho supposed there was one thing he had been right about… he did have feelings for you back then.

You scoffed at the mention of your ex, rolling your eyes. “Just like your ex probably will, too”.

Ah, Minho’s ex… It had been a long time since Minho had been in a relationship, but how could he forget the ex that made him choose between him and you?

He could admit it was an asshole move to be involved romantically with someone while having feelings for someone else, but back then he was so deep in denial he couldn’t even acknowledge what he felt for you. Regardless, you were still his friend, and he’d never choose anyone else over one of his friends. In his opinion, someone that cared about him would never make him choose in the first place.

“I guess we’ll have to let them froth at the mouth with rage and believe whatever they want to believe. That is, if they still care”, Minho chuckled, rolling you on your back to start pressing kisses all over your face, making you giggle.

That seemingly innocent act of smothering your face with kisses turned into a much less innocent mess of lips and tongues. Minho came to find out that making out with you was absolutely exhilarating, especially when it ended with his mouth between your legs.

Fucking you that morning might’ve not been the smartest move to make when you both were about to walk into a kitchen full of people with enhanced senses, but Minho figured that if anyone commented on it, he didn’t care. It wasn’t like he was going to keep it a secret, anyway.

Although, he’d admit that having Jisung scream it to everyone in the room caught him off guard. Just like learning that everyone had placed bets on whether Minho and you would get together last night also caught him off guard.

He figured he deserved that last one, considering he himself had also gotten the rest of the pack to place bets on whether Chris and his girlfriend would fuck last night or not…

In any case, other than the bet, the whole pack seemed to seamlessly embrace this new dynamic between you and Minho. After all, starting a relationship with you didn’t change things much.

You still lived almost an hour away from him, you still encouraged him to indulge in his interests, you still talked every day… If anything, the only major difference was that you met more frequently now. Seeing you weekly instead of monthly was certainly an improvement.

It was kind of amusing to Minho how everything was almost the same. He still took you places, still held your hand and hugged you and brushed your hair out of your face whenever he felt like it, but now he could let his fingers linger on your skin for longer, he could lean in and press a kiss wherever he wanted on your face, and, at the end of the day, he could take you home and fuck you dumb for as long as you’d let him.

There was only one thing, though, that seemed to be a problem… It was something he didn’t really want to acknowledge, but he knew would explode on his face at some point.

Minho was an animal.

Eventually, he’d go into rut, and knowing you, he was sure you’d want to help him go through it.

Minho had never spoken to you about his ruts, but he knew you’d learnt a great deal about it from the other girls at the den as well as Jisung. You’d never brought it up to him before, and he was sure it was because you simply knew he didn’t want to talk about it.

Now that you were his girlfriend, it was only a matter of time before he’d have to face this problem head on. Because that was what this whole thing was to Minho… a problem.

Even if during his rut all he could think about was you, he usually got violent. Very violent.

He’d punch walls and break numerous pieces of furniture and appliances, and having you there with him could put you at risk of getting caught in the cross-fire. If he ever hurt you, Minho would never, ever forgive himself. Especially when he just knew you would. You would make excuses for him, you’d enable him and his animal ways like you always did, and he just didn’t want to put you in that position.

Granted, he should’ve probably told you all this, and he had been hyping himself up to do it, but you had been faster than him. The night you finally asked him about his rut he had been severely unprepared to handle the situation.

Minho told you he wouldn’t spend his rut with you. He could’ve probably worded it better, but before he knew it the situation escalated and you were having an argument and he had unintentionally made you feel unwanted, which was just so far from reality…

He wanted to tell you just how much he wanted you, but before he could you’d put space between yourselves and left him there on his own. It was late at night when it happened, but he wasn’t necessarily worried for your safety when you left, because he just knew you’d either go to one of the girls’ flats or to Jisung’s.

Forty minutes after the whole ordeal, he received a text from Jisung confirming his suspicions. The younger wolf told him you were at his place and that he’d take care of you for the night, which Minho was immensely grateful for.

He spent the entire night tossing and turning, wondering how to best word his predicament so he wouldn’t inadvertently hurt you and make you feel unwanted again. Essentially, his reservations when it came to spending his rut with you had nothing to do with you, and all to do with him.

So, the next morning, he made his way to Jisung’s and waited patiently for you to wake up. Jisung had given him a rundown of what had happened the night before, without revealing too much of what you’d told him since he usually liked to keep your conversations as private as possible–just like he kept the conversations he had with Minho as private as possible whenever he spoke to you.

So, when you woke up, Minho immediately explained the situation. He confessed to you how he’d always wanted you, how he couldn’t stop thinking about you whenever he went into rut, and how he got incredibly violent during that time period, so violent he feared he would harm you in any way.

You understood, of course. You always did.

You apologised for jumping to conclusions, and for forcing him to talk about something when he was clearly not ready to do it, which he appreciated. He also apologised for not communicating properly, an apology that you also seemed to accept. At the end of the day, he understood why the whole thing happened in the first place, and he made a mental note to try and not keep things like these from you ever again.

Funny thing, how the universe always seems to play with people like they were little pieces in a funky little game.

When Minho did go into rut, he was so out of it he completely forgot to let you or anyone else know. You had a tendency to drop by his place unannounced, which he didn’t mind, but that day, it was far from ideal, to say the least.

He was sweating, frustrated, in pain, and the second he heard the beeps of the front door’s lock and the smell of your scent hit him, he just lost it.

It was all a blur after that. He tried to hold back, to tell you to leave, but you didn’t. Of course you wouldn’t leave…

To his surprise, that violence that seemed to seep out of him whenever he went into rut wasn’t there. His thoughts were plagued with only you and your lavender scent and the need to pleasure you and to pump you full of his pups.

When he finally managed to do all that, he quickly realised that he’d only ever been violent because he couldn’t have you. In retrospect, he should’ve known. But he’d proven to be tone deaf enough to not understand what his needs were, and this clearly wasn’t an exception.

Nothing had felt quite as fulfilling as spending that rut with you. It was all he’d ever wanted and more. His almost endless supply of cum, his knot, his insatiable need to fuck and fuck and fuck… You’d taken it all like a champ, and even when he wasn’t that in tune with his inner wolf, he could still feel just how proud it was, how proud he was of you.

The word mate kept repeating over and over in his mind the entire time, and he supposed you were his mate, all things considered.

Forever was a big word, but Minho figured that, at least at that point in time, he couldn’t ever imagine his life with anyone else. Especially not now that you were finally sharing your feelings with each other after years and years of pining.

For all he knew, anything that could have potentially been a problem in his relationship with you had been addressed after that. Minho was happy, you were happy, and it all seemed to have taken its natural course.

Except for one maybe not so small thing…

Minho wanted you to move in with him. He’d honestly wanted it since before you got together. He missed you often, and he wanted to spend as much time with you as possible.

The distance during the week was starting to stress him out way more than he’d like to admit, and even if he’d been slowly making space in his flat for you, he knew he’d ask you sooner or later. He hadn’t brought the topic up after you got together because he knew your job was important to you, and moving in with him would probably mean you’d have to quit and find something else closer to where the den was.

He could offer to support you financially, but he just knew you wouldn’t have wanted that. The second you’d started working and being financially independent, you couldn’t imagine ever having to rely on someone else–that was what you had told him all those years ago, at least…

You moving in with him made so much sense, though. Some weekends, Minho would go over to your place, but you’d told him several times that you preferred his home over yours. You’d told him it was more lively, that you enjoyed the presence of the other pack members, and that the only thing you genuinely liked about your flat was that Sir Percival was in it.

Sir Percival was your elderly cat that you adopted when you were a child. He was one of the many cats Minho had rescued, and he was probably the reason you ever spoke to Minho in the first place. Back then, the day you met, you approached him only because he was trying to save Sir Percival’s entire litter that had been abandoned by the side of the road.

So, yes. You moving in with him to Chris’ den just made all the sense in the world to him. Especially at moments like these.

Whenever Minho got to lay on your bed like he was doing now, he could certainly understand why you felt that his flat was more homely. You hardly had any decor in your room, and the whole flat was in a similar state. You never particularly liked this place in the first place, but you stayed because it was close to work and rent was relatively cheap.

‘I’ll probably move out soon, so no need to go all in on the decoration’, you’d told Minho years ago when you moved in. You kept putting it off, and now here this place was, void of anything that would highlight your wonderful personality other than the cat toys littering the floor, and the cat tower in the corner of your living room.

Whenever Minho came over, Sir Percival always avoided coming to your room unless it was absolutely necessary. The cat had told Minho that if he ever walked in on them having sex again he’d purposefully ruin the mood by throwing up a hairball, so he preferred to stay in the living room, even if it meant he couldn’t sleep by your feet like he loved to do.

That was fair, Minho supposed. He didn’t feel comfortable having Sir Percival in the room when you were getting intimate, either, so he appreciated the privacy.

Right now, though, since he had woken up in the middle of the night and hadn’t been able to fall asleep again, he was wondering if he should go out and bring Sir Percival to bed. Maybe his warmth and his purring could help him fall asleep again…

Unlike Minho, you were sleeping soundly next to him, with your back turned to him. If he stood up from this bed he might wake you up, and he didn’t want you to be in his situation… So he settled on focusing on your steady breathing while he waited for sleep to claim him again.

It was just as he was almost asleep again that a minute sound made his body jerk awake.

It came from you. It was a whimper, barely even audible. But how could he not hear it with his enhanced senses? When you were so close?

It would’ve worried him, had the smell of your arousal not knocked the air straight out of his lungs.

Minho would’ve never imagined his sleepless night would’ve taken him to this intersection, but here he was. He realised he could do one of three things… One, he could ignore the fact that you were right there next to him, presumably having a wet dream… Two, he could wake you up to reenact whatever it was you were dreaming about… Or three, he could use this as an opportunity to indulge in something he hardly ever did…

Since he started a relationship with you, Minho and you had many opportunities to try new things. You were quite open to try any and every seemingly odd activity in the bedroom–be it anal, or role-play, or some light bondage, you were always down to try it. And when Minho brought up his little fantasy of touching you while you were asleep, you’d been more than ecstatic to try it out… To the point where he was sure if he hadn’t brought it up, you would’ve done so eventually.

There was something about the fact that you trusted him enough to let him do things to you while you were unconscious that excited him. Maybe it was a projection of all those nights back then that he’d spent trying not to fantasise about you when you slept together, or maybe it was simply the act itself that he inexplicably enjoyed… Regardless of what it was, your little whimpers had his mind clouding a bit.

Sometimes, before you fell asleep next to each other, you’d turn to him and tell him ‘Maybe I’ll wake up to a surprise tomorrow…’ with that lilt in your voice that just let him know exactly in which way you wanted him to wake you up. That had been the case last night, and Minho had considered doing it a bit later, when the sun was starting to rise at least. But he figured, since you were already having a bit of fun in your dreams, maybe a midnight treat wouldn’t hurt.

Scooting closer to you, his hand found your waist. He held you tight while he pressed his nose to your pulsepoint, right under your jaw. He could hear your blood flowing, your heart rate increasing, and the scent of your excitement had him almost salivating.

Dragging his hand from your waist to your hip, he carefully caressed your body over the fabric of your sleeping gown, just as he pressed his growing erection against your ass. A tiny moan escaped your mouth, but your steady heartbeat let him know you were still pretty much asleep.

Whatever it was you were dreaming about had you shuffling the tiniest bit, enough for your ass to rub against his crotch, and he could already feel a bit of wetness soiling the material of his sleeping shorts. His own fluids, to be precise. It was one of those things that shocked him after he turned, just how much fluid his body could produce. Be it saliva, or sweat, or cum… It was slightly inconvenient, but at the very least, you always seemed to enjoy it, so he supposed it wasn’t so bad.

Minho dragged his hand from where it’d been caressing your hip up your torso, stopping only when he was finally able to cup one of your breasts. He generously fondled and squeezed the flesh, not holding back one bit. If you woke up, you woke up, and if you didn’t, you didn’t. Simple as that.

Dragging the pad of one of his fingers over your stiffening nipple, he relished the way your heartbeat picked up, as well as the way you started to writhe a bit in his hold.

“You’re so soft, baby…” Minho couldn’t help but mumble against the skin of your neck, and you whined, almost like you were reacting to him. And maybe you were. He liked to believe that to be the case.

He pinched and twisted your nipple between his fingers, pressing kisses on your neck and grinding his now fully hardened length against your ass. “I wonder what you’re dreaming about, my kitten… Is it me? I hope it’s me…”

Minho was very quiet, but he hoped you could hear him even in your dreams. He figured you might’ve, considering how fast your heart was beating now.

He was genuinely planning on dragging this out for as long as possible, but when you mumbled something akin to his name, he simply couldn’t hold back any longer. He removed his hand from your breast after one final hefty squeeze, only to bring that same hand between your bodies. His digits made contact with your entrance, and he couldn’t help but take in a deep breath at just how wet you were.

He wondered how much of it was your own arousal, and how much of it was his own cum that might’ve remained there from when you had sex last night before going to bed. He didn’t come inside often, but when he did, the thought of you having a part of him within your warmth did things to him, it tickled a secluded area of his brain, and it certainly excited him. He supposed it was instinctual. One of those wolf things he hardly ever paid attention to.

Delaying no further, he freed himself out of his sleeping shorts, just enough to drag the tip of his cock up and down your drenched folds. Minho almost got winded when he heard the moan that came out of your mouth in response to his motions. Your lavender scent wrapping around every single one of his nerve-endings enticed him, and he just couldn’t deny himself anymore.

He usually preferred to make sure you were well stretched enough to take him in, but considering you’d been stretched plenty last night, he figured you’d be just fine. And he was proven correct when he finally pushed himself fully within your warmth, when the wetness between yours legs let him slide in with ease.

Minho couldn’t help but groan at the feeling, just as a moan of your own escaped your mouth.

“You’re so warm, baby…”

He pulled his hips back, only to push them forward to start a slow, pleasant rhythm. His hold was tight on your hip, your heart sounded like it was close to leaping out of your chest, and the second your walls clenched on his length, he just knew you’d wake up soon… You’d wake up exactly to what you had wanted.

“Oh–oh, Minho…”

There was no mistaking it anymore, your barely audible moans had slightly increased in tone, and you’d started to push your hips back a bit.

Minho just hummed in response, dragging his hand from your hip to your lower belly. You placed your own hand on top of his, lacing your fingers together and sighing contently.

The kisses he left on your neck and the exposed skin of your shoulder seemed to spur you on, the movement of your hips increased in pace, and he just increased his in return. He was mumbling nonsense against your skin, tightening his hold on your interlocked fingers, getting completely lost in the feel of your tight warmth around him.

Before he knew it, you had turned your body a bit, and he had pushed your legs apart to get better access to your heat.

With an arm below you for his hand to hold yours, he took advantage of this position by using his other hand to pull one of your legs over his hip and for his fingers to find their rightful place between your legs.

You just kissed him. You kissed him like you’d die if you didn’t, mumbling words of appreciation of your own between each kiss, broken up by moans and sighs and whimpers with every thrust of his hips and every circle drawn on your clit.

“You’re so good to me”, you mumbled, tightening your hold on his hand, moaning so prettily he almost blew then and there.

“And you to me”, he replied simply, picking up his pace, relishing your scent and your warmth and just… you.

Time always seemed to slow down whenever you had sex, especially at these hours of the night, to the point where he could never tell how long it’d been since that first thrust. All Minho could register was how incredibly good he felt, how your heart was thumping fast in your chest, and how hard you were clamping around his cock.

The sounds you made whenever you came undone under his touch and his motions were like music to his ears, they spurred him on, borderline urged him to come himself. And there was certainly hardly anything he would’ve enjoyed more right now than to blow his load while you were still spasming around him, while all you could mumble was his name, while all he could mumble was yours.

Your chest rose and fell with your deep breaths, and while the after effects of his orgasm still clung to every single one of his senses, you pulled him in for a slow, tender kiss. Minho immediately melted, holding you tighter and still enjoying the comfort of your inner walls.

When you pulled back from the kiss, he brushed his nose against yours, making you smile and giggle, and you sounded incredibly sleepy even after all that had transpired just minutes ago. He pulled you into his arms, entangling his legs with yours as he pressed a kiss to your forehead.

Everything was calm around you. The room was barely illuminated by the lampposts outside your windows, and Minho suddenly felt like humming a random song you’d been listening to earlier in the evening… So he did, all as he caressed your hair.

You nuzzled your face further into his chest, wrapping an arm around his waist and holding him tight. Right then, Minho figured that every choice he had ever made, that everything that had happened to him, had taken him to this moment, and if that were truly the case, then he honestly wouldn’t have changed it for the world.

“Babe?” You mumbled, the sound slightly muffled against the fabric of his vest top.

“Hm?” Minho kept caressing your hair, your back, holding you close and keeping you there.

“I love you”.

He honestly couldn’t help but smile. Of course he knew you loved him. You’d shown him just how much countless times before. Not only throughout your relationship, but way before that… He’d honestly known since that time you hugged him when he had shapeshifted into a wolf the very first time.

“I love you, kitten, baby… So much”.

You pulled away from his chest and looked at him, with a blinding smile on your face. Granted, he could hardly see it in the dark room, but he saw enough. Enough to know just how much you cared.

But alas, Minho was first and foremost your best friend, and even if he was melting on the inside with your confession, he just had to be annoying about it. “I can’t believe you beat me to say it first, though. I won’t ever forgive you”.

You gasped dramatically, bringing a hand to your mouth for emphasis. “Here I am? Baring my heart to you? And this is what I get? Fine, I won’t ever forgive you for never forgiving me”.

You were just about to turn away from him, he just knew. So he held you tighter, keeping you in place while he laughed. Your façade crumbled immediately, and you laughed with him, all while he kept pressing kisses on your cheeks.

“Guess I’ll just have to say it as much as possible to get the upper hand”, Minho mumbled against your cheek, just before he started leaving behind an ‘I love you’ after every kiss he pressed on your heated skin.

When your chuckles died down, and he was satisfied with the amount of times he had professed his love, silence enveloped you both once again. Minho simply laid on his back, hugging you close as you laid your head on his chest, right over his heart.

He wasn’t sure if it was the admittance of his feelings, or the hormonal rush of a good fuck, or your lavender scent that seemed to make him delirious sometimes, but, before he knew it, the words were coming out of his mouth with no way to stop them.

“Would you like to move in with me?”

No take-backsies now, he supposed.

You took in a deep breath, but remained silent for a moment.

It was just as Minho was about to panic that you finally spoke. “Do you think Chris would accept Sir Percival into the pack as well? I’m not leaving him behind”.

Minho couldn’t help but chuckle. “He’ll have to. Otherwise I’ll threaten him until he does”.

It was all a bluff… mostly.

Minho would respect any decision Chris took, but if it came to it, he kind of knew that if he laid out why it was important to him to take in both you and Sir Percival, Chris would agree, so he wasn’t particularly worried. Sir Percival already respected Chris, from what Minho knew, so he was almost ninety percent sure it wouldn’t be a problem.

You took in another deep breath, pulling yourself away from Minho’s hug so you could straddle him instead. With your full weight on his body and your hands on his chest, you looked down at him, taking in his features.

“I guess I’ll need to start applying for jobs, then”, you just smiled brightly at him.

Minho held your waist, smiling at you in return right before he pulled you down for a kiss. With you and Sir Percival there at the den, his family would finally be complete, and he felt as if his heart was about to burst at the thought.

Tagging: @staaa96 · @oiminho · @straylightdream · @starshine-moon · @biribarabiribbaem · @100layersofdaddyissues · @dearalice · @alexis-reads-fics · @xcookiemonsteer · @knowleeknow · @chanlovesme · @liminaldaydream · @bintificreads · @svngiem · @princelingperfect · @violetpenguinkris · @leedunno · @aestheticsluut · @skzhomiehopper · @cessixja · @mimzibee · @hipsdofangirl · @djeniryuu · @floatingcoffecup · @minnysproutgriffinteddy · @toplinehyunjin · @goblinracha · @viviixlyy · @casualenthusiastexpert · @kileidoscope · @kpop-bbdoll · @crispytigerearthquake · @meloncremesoda · @fawnpeaks · @dalamjisung · @abcdefgiwsmcty · @jaiuneamesolitaiire · @goatpeople · @lilramennoodle · @vitrealisbunny · @stayconnecteed · @iadorethemskz · @kalihien · @junebug032 · @cecepop15 · @meowmeowhoon If you want to be removed (or if i tagged you incorrectly) from the list just PM me. If you want to be added fill in this form. you must have an indication that you’re an adult in your blog if you want me to tag you in my works

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General Masterlist Minho's WereRoomies Instalments: Camping With Wolves & Dog Unleashed

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owlespresso · 10 months ago

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If you’re still accepting prompts, may I humbly submit : “You don’t have to leave, you know” with Yuri!

“You can stay, you know,” Yuri murmurs. You look over at him. Dawn’s first light nudges through the curtains, paints the room eggshell blue, touches the strands of his hair with pearlescent light. You feel newly hatched. Clumsy, clueless little heartbeat beating wings against your ribcage. The blanket is pooled at his waist. He’s all pale and lean, comfy as a cat under the spot of sun.

You’re in the middle of shoving your trousers back on when he beseeches you. Caught red-handed. His cheek is smooshed against the downy pillow, eyelids low and voice soft with slip. But he’s still smiling. A drowsy kind of smile. He’s like an old painting, pale brushstrokes capturing the foggy, ethereal feel of the hour. The last stars twinkle in the milky periwinkle skies.

You drop your pants for the second time, and march back to the bed like the lucky fool you are, thunking dead onto your side of the mattress.

“I know I can stay. It’s my bedroom. In my house.”

“Yet you’re always so eager to scuttle away the moment I take my eyes off you,” Yuri replies, just as easily. He reaches over, idly runs slender hands up and down your arm. That tender touch ventures to your back, bleeding the tension out of you. “I think I spend more time in here than you do.”

“I’m not running away,” you mumble, cross at his teasing. You settle onto your side. The haze of sleep still clings to his expression, glassy eyes blinking slow as he takes you in.

“Mhm,” he sounds horribly unconvinced. “Sorry. I’m not sure what else to call it when you wait until you think I’m asleep to sneak out of bed.”

“I just thought—” you splutter, suddenly mortified. How many times has he pretended to be asleep? How many times has he witnessed you stumble around the room like a newborn foal, plucking your clothes off the floor and off the bedpost and off the chair by the window? “I just though you might want some space.” You shove your face into the sheets. Your hand rests palm flat on the space between you.

“Mmh. Did I say or do anything to give you that impression?” he asks, suddenly thoughtful.

“No. I just—I mean, you see me almost every day. It’s probably good to give you a break, y’know? So you don’t get sick of me,” you say, as wryly as you possibly can. Better a half-truth than outright admitting your own insecurities, admitting just how much stock you put into his opinion of you.

“I’ve spent the past two years following you around like a lost mutt. Do you really think I would do that for someone I could ever possibly get sick of?” he looks at you incredulously. “Saint Seiros, you’re dense.” He sounds utterly bemused, but his hand settles atop of yours to pin it to the mattress. He interlaces your fingers. You smother your face into the sheets.

“Well, sorry! It’s not like I can read your mind!” you grumble, increasingly mumbled.

“Then c’mere and read my lips,” Yuri yoinks you from your hiding spot with a hand between your shoulder blades. He nudges you onto your back with devastating ease, smooth as silk in the way he slots a thigh between your legs. “I’m obsessed with you. Have been ever since you fell face-first into the Abyss.”

You grimace at the reminder of the incident. The loose, rotting floorboards of a particularly disused shed gave way. You would have wound up a splatter on the floor of the Abyss’s arena had Balthus not been there to catch you.

“Don’t go anywhere,” Yuri presses his lips to your chin, and then to your cheeks, retaining your attention with practiced finesse. Not that he ever has to try very hard. “And listen really close, because I’m not good at saying this kind of thing.”

“I need you. I want you. I don’t know what I would do if you ever left me,” Yuri smoothes himself atop of your prone form, palms sliding up your forearms to pin both hands to the sheets. “Do you understand?” he murmurs against your jaw, placing kisses there too. Lips warm and smooth.

You manage a scandalized squawk, heat flooding your cheeks. That seems to mollify him.

#imagine fe3h #oz write #yuri leclerc/reader #yuri leclerc x reader #fe3h x reader #fe3h writing

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atarathegreat · 6 months ago

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You're Lucky You're Pretty. Kyle "Gaz" Garrick.

"There you are, luv!" Gaz dropped his bag to scoop you up, "Been waitin' for ya'."

You hugged him tightly, smiling and giggling in your joy that he was finally home, "Sorry, my car took forever to start."

The noise of the airport faded away as you told him all about the issues your car was giving you the last few weeks. Between funny sounds and overheating, you had no idea what the main problem was, and you were too anxious to take it to a shop. Nothing new, really. Besides, Gaz wouldn't trust any of the nearby shops with a plastic tricycle. So, he decided he would look at it the minute he got a chance to. After getting home and having a decent meal and a nice nap. He was damn tired of MRE's.

You explained a little more about the car as you drove it, pointing out the sounds and smells that the car was giving off. It was all a little concerning, and Gaz didn't relax at all as you drove.

"It's great to be home." Gaz stretched as he stepped out of the car. He glanced around the yard. It was well kept since he taught you to use the push mower, and you got better every time. On the far end lied the bird feeders where the two of you spent most of the time outdoors, if you were lucky then Gaz would let you try and feed the birds from your hands instead of going on about diseases. "It's great to have you home. Everything gets a lot lonelier when you're deployed. Even Max gets sadder."

Max, a name you expected to be accompanied by some slobbery mutt running into the room, not a sugar glider that dive bombed them both from the ceiling fans. Gaz groaned inwardly, "Goodness. Should I protect my ears?"

"Yes."

The fat sugar glider that you had adopted made a bad habit of biting ears when he was angry at anyone. The spoiled rat with wings tortured Gaz all because he had to be absent for his job. You tried to find the little creature, arm raised as you walked around the ceiling fans and high spots. It was ridiculous that he had to walk around with his hands over his ears, reminiscent of a child not wanting to hear their siblings.

You giggled and snatched something from the air, "There you are, silly boy." Narrowly. You narrowly kept Gaz from being jump scared by a flying hamster. He hated that damn thing, but he loved it, too. It was adorable and, in his humble opinion, you coddled it too bloody much, but he loved it. Max perched on your fingers and chittered angrily at Gaz as if to complain of his absence. It wasn't a huge issue, Gaz couldn't understand the creature anyway.

The quant little house was perfectly enough for the two of you and Max. One bedroom, one bathroom, an office, and the basement where the laundry room was stationed. Neither of you felt the need to spend more money than needed, and you didn't exactly need a lot. By his current rank in the military, Gaz could've had a penthouse and two tesla cars, but it wasn't something he needed.

That's what he thought anyway.

"What the fuck?" Greasy hands twisted at caps and pulled on wires. Why was your car sounding funny? Everything he'd witnessed had a cause, but nothing seemed wrong. Not even the battery was rusty.

Oh...

Of course...

Gaz walked into your shared bedroom, cleaning his hands off with a cloth. He took a moment to look at your lips and nose, your hair, and the way you did your makeup. "Luv?" Gaz sat at your feet, careful not to get dirt or grease on the bed from his hands, "When was the last time you changed your oil?"

From the look you gave him, he had his answer.

"Did you even know you had to change the oil?"

"... no..."

#x reader #cod x reader #cod modern warfare #cod #cod mw2 #call of duty modern warfare #call of duty #kyle gaz garrick #kyle garrick #cod gaz #gaz mw2 #gaz garrick #sergeant kyle gaz garrick #gaz call of duty

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1ichtbringer · 11 days ago

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i would love to hear more about your thoughts on choso if you want to share!! i always struggle to connect to him as a character admittedly because i haven't paid that much attention to his character building, so his connection to yuuji is basically front and center to me. would love to know more about what draws people to him though c:

hi, I feel like choso is one of those characters where most readers fell for the character’s facade when they were supposed to dismantle it or something like that :D

to put it simply, the reason I love choso is that, aside from his cool jujutsu skills, he is one of the few full-fledged characters in jjk, a character with a beautifully tragic story on top of that. all in my humble opinion, of course. :)

to show you, what I exactly mean, i will refer to 1. his jujutsu abilities and 2. his character arc and personal story. so, let’s start with the first one.

now, JJK has a lot of characters with super cool abilities and great understanding of jujutsu, unfortunately they just get overshadowed by the power houses like gojo, sukuna etc.

choso is such a case imo. he’s classified as a special grade curse and estimated to be a grade one sorcerer later. he’s a skilled all rounder, meaning he can combat in all ranges, has refined cursed energy control and high durability and strength, even compared to the other death painting wombs. he’s inherited the traditional kamo family CT Blood Manipulation and has arguably perfected his craft, without access to family knowledge, manuals or any battle experience, which is very remarkable.

but the problem with hereditary techniques is that the knowledge eventually seeps through the family boundaries, especially the three big clans seem to be thoroughly informed about each other’s techniques. which is the reason naoya instantly knows how to counter him. additionally, as his parent and because of his own former vessels, kenjaku also knows about the weakness’s of BM, which is a bit of a hardship.

choso can use all common BM abilities, however he also adds some of his own special creations, which is why he can catch off even stronger opponents in his battles despite his lack of battle experience (including kenjaku themself).

even though he looks like the hotheaded, emotional type at first glance, he’s actually very smart and an underrated tactician, seen to be advising JJT several times and coming up with clever plans to aid the sorcerers, even as they prepare to fight kenjaku and sukuna. he also has a remarkable logical understanding of jujutsu, that he seems to have developed on his own since he’s been incarnated for only a few months. I highly recommend you to pay attention to his fighting style or his comments on other people’s fights, it’s always interesting to listen to him. :)

now to his story:

I think since he’s a minor character, who seems rather stoic and unobtrusive on the surface, a lot of people focus on his dynamic with yuji instead of taking the opportunity to look behind his facade. so for a better understanding, let’s have a quick look into his backstory.

as death painting wombs, him and his brothers are the result of kenjaku’s “intellectual curiosity”, essentially conceived through longtime sexual exploitation of their mother, who naturally ends up resenting kenjaku for what they did to her. interestingly enough, choso is the only death painting, who gains memories of his parents and inherits his mother’s hatred for his father.

anyway, at some point, JJT retrieves the death paintings as cursed objects and locks them up in their warehouse, where they basically spent one and a half centuries in imprisonment while they’re fully conscious and alive. we know this, because it’s in those 150 years, that choso works on his jujutsu and also because he remembers his brothers reaching out to him for comfort while they have to live in complete darkness and cold.

once him, eso and kechizu are incarnated, choso, as the eldest, makes the decision to ally themselves with the disaster curses, despite not trusting them. He tells his brothers, it’s because “the future made by cursed spirits is more convenient for them”. We’ll come back to this statement later.

he loves his brothers and looks out for them, but he also has pride and confidence in their strength, which is why he lets eso and kechizu go on a mission without their big brother. unfortunately, it results in them being killed by their own half brother without any of them knowing, leaving choso with a lot of anger and the desire to kill the murderer of his brothers (remember, anger is just a secondary emotion).

after shibuya, where he’s finally confronted the killer of his brothers, only to realize that this mere child, is not only in fact one of his brothers, but has been going through hell without any remaining family, choso adopts yuji as his little brother.

now this is where it gets interesting, because most fans either seem to find his overprotectiveness for yuji extremely strange or endearingly funny, when in reality it’s evident that he has severe guilt and PTSD. not only, because he just failed to protect two of his precious family members the one time he left them out of his sight (even though it wasn’t his fault at all), but because he was the one who suggested to ally with the cursed spirits. in fact, he wasn’t entirely honest about his motivation to join the cursed spirits earlier.

see, the death paintings actually didn’t know anything about their appearances until the moment they incarnated. once they did though, choso quickly realizes a harsh truth about them. he looks quite “human” - human enough, to live among other humans, probably. but his brothers don’t.

eso and kechizu look different, their bodies are not normal. humans will never accept them and they will have to live in great pain, which scares choso, so much so, that he takes the “easy way out” for their sake.

but while he had worried about the hardships his half curse brothers could face among humans, yuji actually had to live through hell on his own, because of his humanity.

when yuji brings up, what he did to eso and kechizu, choso brushes it off quickly by telling him not to worry about it, that it was all a misunderstanding. again, he isn’t being entirely honest here. he actually doesn’t want yuji to worry, because he blames himself for their deaths. he blames himself for his dead brothers and he also blames himself for not finding yuji earlier, even though none of it is remotely his fault.

while yuji believes he doesn’t deserve to walk alongside his friends after sukuna’s rampage in shibuya, choso thinks he is undeserving of walking beside him. after all he killed humans - even though they were never treated kindly by them, deemed to be curses or objects or both their whole life.

yuki’s last words to him are to keep on living as a human. which is ironic, because right from the start, choso is as human as it gets.

he feels hate, but more importantly he feels love. love for his brothers, love for a mother he never met, love for yuji whom he just found, love for the first friend he’s made and who saves him before she dies.

his emotions are his greatest strength, but they’re also his biggest weakness. he is extremely selfless, but also very selfish. he has fears, is flawed and makes mistakes, quite a lot of them actually. he tells naoya that he makes them, so his siblings can learn from his misery and do better. It’s why he’s so tough in the first place, after all he had no one to rely on and had to learn everything by himself. he’s empathetic, oftentimes hiding his true thoughts in consideration for the people dear to him.

when he reunites with eso and kechizu in the afterlife, kechizu is surprised by how apologetic their big brother has become. their big brother, who always knew what to do and what to say without the need to apologise, looks strangely vulnerable now.

and even in his last moments, he still feels as though he didn’t do enough for yuji, despite being by his side in his direst times and giving his life for him. he dies with regrets, like sorcerers supposedly do, but he also dies with gratitude in his heart. gratitude for his little brother, who brought out his most human parts and allowed to stay by his side despite everything he did and like the big brother he is, he teaches yuji one last important lesson: that no one in this world is born with a set role.

#tldr I love him because im an emotional bitch and he breaks my heart djfkfkf #sry this got quite long 😭 lmk if I missed anything or you want to hear other specific opinions :)#choso #choso kamo #jjk choso #yuji itadori #itadori yuuji #kechizu #eso #yuki tsukumo #jujutsu kaisen #death painting wombs #jjk #jjk meta #🧸#☁️.blogging

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hecalledme-jagi · 11 months ago

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Can we just take a second to talk about how Artem looks at Rosa?? Like this man clearly adores her long before they started dating and it’s so obvious, that it hurts.

LOOK AT HIM! ROSA HAD BARELY STARTED FEELING ANYTHING FOR ARTEM AT THIS POINT AND HE JUST!!! ＿|￣|○ He looks at her with so much tenderness and all the while he’s under the impression that he’s struggling to communicate how he feels??? Sure, he’s a clumsy dork when it comes to romance, but his eyes say so much more than any romantic gesture he could possibly conjure up or whatever poetic words he might want to say. Those eyes express a very deep longing to treasure and cherish. He wants, and is content with, experiencing the mundane things in life at her side and it KILLS ME 😭 he’s happy, beyond compare, watching the waxing and waning of her expressions and feeling her warmth.

AND DON’T GET ME STARTED ON HIS BIRTHDAY INVITATION! Out of ALL the First Birthday invitations, Artem’s was my absolute favorite(and it’s probably my favorite invitation of all time). For one thing, it’s stunning, but it’s so unbelievably soft T^T!!!!!! The gentle way Rosa shifts closer to Artem, the way he gently holds her hand and blushes when she gets closer. The adoring look on his face and the soft smile on hers! UGH!! And it only gets better when you think about how she spent DAYS recreating an iconic scene from Artem’s favorite movie!? As a movie buff myself, Rosa’s actions spoke volumes! She dedicated so much of her personal time to get Artem a gift she knew he’d love. I wouldn’t be surprised if Artem fell in love with her all over again after that!

And after they start dating, he just continues to be more loving!? Some how his gaze becomes EVEN SOFTER!? HOW!? TELL ME! HOW!? If a man looked at me the way Artem looks at Rosa, I’d actually die. Out of all the leads, I think I love with way Artem looks at Rosa the most. It’s such a gentle and adoring expression that is 100% content with just looking. Just observing. The way he looks at her makes you think he’s committing every micro expression to memory and tracing every contor of her face, so that if there ever comes a day that he can’t see her face, it’ll be permanently seared into his very soul.

AUGJRVWWejtbegw AND IT GETS BETTER! They revealed, during the Cue The Champion Event, that Artem keeps a polite distance with Rosa when they’re in public, meaning he’s probably pretty shy about PDA, so he makes up for it through his loving gaze(thats how I’m interpreting it anyway :3). Artem and Rosa, in my humble opinion, create a very warm atmosphere around each other without having to express their affections verbally or physically. Any bystander could tell the two love each other just by seeing how they look at each other. Just by seeing how Artem looks at her. UGH JUST LIKE IN THE MYSTERIES OF BAKERLON EVENT! He’s composing a wordless love letter (´༎ຶོρ༎ຶོ`)

I’m mostly adding this card just for fun, but there’s just so much affection Artem carries for Rosa and as much as I love the other leads, Artem holds a very special place in my heart that I just can’t ignore 🥺

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adhd-fandom-hyperfocus · 3 months ago

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✧₊⁺ Dance with Me ✧₊⁺

Pairing: Roboute Guilliman x OC (Astraea)

A drabble from Wisdom In The Stars

Author's Note: I am aware that there was a xenos in 40k already called Nephilim. Astraea is not from that species, merely, they just happen to have the same name.

Quick pro quo on drabbles in this work:

This is all very self-indulgent and I will not apologize. If the Grimdark can be extra, so can I!

Bobby G's love interest is a xenos of my making, so they are as long-lived as him, but not a perpetual.

Again mad self-indulgent. Oozing copium by the ton

Rowboat Guillotine deserves a happy life and some damn peace

So many Primarchs are going to be back in some drabbles. Again no fucks given

Proofread? Never heard of her

Warnings: G-Money has some very slight nsfw thought at the end. Very slight. That's it.

18+ Minors DNI

★。------ ＼｜／------。★

To ally with Xenos, was a heretical thing, no matter the circumstances. No matter how much they needed that help. Guilliman knew the practical approach was swiftly dealing with those who opposed him. However, this might have been a push against the church too hard. Roboute was prepared for a bloody response. Yet, Astraea refused such things. Refused to just cut them all down to ensure ease. While she seemed as disgusted by the ecclesiarchy as him, she seemed to pity them more than anything. Something Roboute felt was far worse.

So to smooth things out, She and some of her people, diplomats, historians, and entertainers, attended a gathering to celebrate this new alliance, and hopefully, an even better Imperium as they set off to help their cut-off brothers and sisters. Roboute suspected some of her Seraphem and Maidens of Valor were among those attending. Hiding among them should things go poorly.

He could not express enough that Astraea agreeing to have this alliance look like her people were offering to serve under the Imperium made things easier, and he was forever thankful. Once he would have forced this kind of thing. Xenos as equals? A morbid thought. But now? A thinly veiled lie to keep the peace. One her people willingly were taking the short end for.

How in the time he had spent with her, traveling back to Terra, and planning all that is happening and to come, she swayed his mind like nothing ever could. Like a spell she was weaving, and he still felt she might be. How her opinion so quickly grew to carry more and more weight. Or how his eyes started to yern to gaze upon her. Her ability to rule, but stay humble. To honor he duty but find time to be selfish; it was a skill he was never allowed to have.

She made him look inward, something he dared not do. Roboute always feared what he might learn about himself. What truths lay there waiting to be found. But she had shown him hers, and the image of what she forsook for the weaker image before him, still haunted his mind. There were things greater than chaos and they cared not for what was beneath them.

Roboute Guilliman listened idly to some nobles about how Astraea's people's ships translated into real space and in such time. He oped this proved without words, that an alliance was better than them being an enemy. They thought the Imperium had impressive tech? These people made all of man still look like cave dwellers at times. But among the crowd of dull faces and nameless people of petty importance, he saw her enter.

No call of her arrival, nothing. Just her moving ever so gracefully among the sea of sycophants. All her people were catching eyes. They were taller than baseline humans, and their eyes both drew people in and made them uneasy. But her, oh Throne her...

She was resplendent, the beauty of a thousand stars captured in a mortal body. The terrifying beauty, the savage grace. How the fabric of her dress moved and clung so rightly to her, draped in the right ways to extenuate what Roboute Guilliman was gazing upon was the manifesting of terrible beauty in the real.

The thin fabric of the palest blue, shimmering so slightly as if some of the stars that made her fell upon her dress. Delicate silver chains hung from her with gemstones, some looking as if galaxies rested in them. Perhaps there was? The crown upon her head was like a sunburst and the way the lighting caught it was just as awe-inspiring.

Oh normally he would find such decadence too much. Obscene even; reminding him too much of Fulgrim. But her? It was a show of what was condensed inside that soul; heavenly beauty. All of them did. Moving with a unnatural grace and motions of a soul not used to it's body. Their luminous attire catching the eye of all.

As music played it became an interesting spectical of the Nephilium dancing to Terran music, in their many cultural ways; followed my humans over taking the floor and dancing. Like they were waves taking turns to move upon the shore. Though some humans did arrive with the Nephilium, a bridge between as it were. It would seem some human colonies were lost during the Age of Strife and some were saved from breeding planets. Something The Lord Regnant did not know existed. Something when he could, he planned to deal with personally.

“Odd, I thought the Lord Regent would be swarming with people, or at least out partaking in the the festivities. After all it is for your name, yes? Your impending victory.”

Astraea's voice even among all this noise was a calm river, who's waters when they touched his eardrums lulled him into a sense of ease. Oh the power she weaved by just existing. Just like a god, he thought dangerously. He hadn't noticed the noble that was rambling at him had left; he gotten so lost in his own head.

“They are all afraid of me,” Roboute answered, “Afraid of me, and too awestruck to dare approach me without need.” he knew the micro hint of sadness in his voice that was unavoidable was picked up on by her. Nothing seemed to pass by her notice, not even the slightest change of breathing, how a heart beat. The micro expressions of being a creature of feelings. All were laid bare before her, and the other methuselah. Roboute wondered if among those in attendance there were others. Astraea done well to keep the others a secret for now.

While deep down he felt alone, tired of being put so high up none dared to even look upon him; he was almost glad. It meant there was less of him hearing the putrid spew of their false religion and deification of him.

“And I do not dance.” he added.

Astraea craned a brow, “Do not dance, or do not know how?”

Roboute scoffed and feigned some level of offense, “My lady I will have you know I am the son of Konor Guilliman. I know how to dance, and all the pleasantries one is expected to have when at a gathering such as this,” he gestured to himself, “however, I do not know if you noticed, but my size compared to baseline humans is rather great...I always felt awkward dancing.”

It was hard to dance when your partner was eye level with your crotch. He only tried to dance a few times before he decided he rather face hoards of green skins than that embarrassment again. He wasn't as graceful or charismatic as Sanguinius, or Horus, as much as he hated to think of the latter. So he would start rambling about how dances were not made for one of his size and prattle on about upcoming laws. He would bore his partner to death so they would leave him.

There was a soft touch on his hand. So gentle and delicate he almost didn't notice it, “This is like in your human books, where the heroine or hero take their love interests hand and dance. And they do so like no one is watching.” Astraea said with such an even tone, it made the statement more amusing.

Like she wasn't fully aware what she said, but he knew better.

“Lady Astraea are you asking me to dance?” Guilliman smiled fondly, looking at her hand in his. It was so much smaller, yet held so much more power; he couldn't explain why, but it made his hearts pound.

“I am, is that not clear? We can dance however we like, as awkward as we like. I can show you some dances of my people, then you can blame the awkwardness on being diplomatic.” she offered.

Roboute knelt down and kissed her hand, “My Lady it would be my honor to share a dance with you. But tell me,” he spoke low now, “Am I your love interest in this book?”

His eyes widened with shock, was Astraea blushing? Had he managed to crack the ever cool demeanor of the Methuselah of Undoing? The Great Wakener? Now this was an accomplishment he would hold close to his chest for a while to come he thought.

“I do not know? Is my flirting working? This is how humans flirt, yes? If it is not I would prefer you act as if none of this happened. As I promised I would not manipulate your mind, so I will not make you forget. But believe it or not, I have not learned in my long years to handle rejection of this kind.”

Though he words were in the same steady cadence she always had, the red on her cheeks was spreading, betraying the mask of otherworldlyness. It gave her a more...human look.

“You are flirting?” Guilliman was genuinely surprised.

Yes, he had read how he was described in some records, seen the many statues. Heard whispers of those who thought his ears wouldn't hear. But if he found these things to be true, he was not so certain. And no one to his knowledge ever flirted with him. Too afraid, or figured he was beyond them. What was this bubbling feeling in his chest? Was his hearts okay? It couldn't be magic. The primarch would give credit, that Astraea seemed to hold her word true, and did not interfere with his mind or anyone's in the Imperium unless he asked. Perhaps, it was effects from his battles with his traitor brothers?

“Like I said only if it is working. I do not wish to shame us both.”

Roboute smiled, and decided to take the lead, bringing them both out onto the floor. Oh how the whispers went wild. Like sharp hissing of a pit of snakes. But he tuned them out; he had to if he wanted to enjoy this fleeting moment. This little blip in his life for himself.

“I did not know you could be embarrassed.” he continued as he turned to face her and take her other hand.

“You have not answered me.” was her only response.

“I cannot right answer right now, I am afraid. I will be honest, I am not ready for the answer I want to give.” it was an honest answer. It was not the one he wanted to give, but he would not lie. Couldn't lie. And Thorne he wanted to be a little selfish.

Astraea smiled and bowed her head, “Well, it is not a no.”

“Exactly, so this dance...” he asked, they were now out on the floor, and eyes were upon them. Glaring and judging. Picking apart every move, every expression. It must be driving them all mad to see this xenos had him truly smiling. Had their demigod belittling himself human novelties and joys.

“All you do is try to compliment the move you think I am about to do, and I do the same for you. It is a dance many young couples do, and eventually it just becomes their dance. It becomes ever more graceful as they grow together.”

That was such a beautiful idea, and this allowed him to use his brain for something more creative, yet still just as strategic. He had to guess her move, as it was happening and make sure he could match it in kind with a good gesture. Make the dance beautiful and uniquely theirs. Oh this was more exciting then just repeating the same steps as everyone else.

“Very well, let us begin.”

Perhaps he should be a bit more surprised how easily his mind switched from all the theoreticals and practicals thinking of running an Imperium, and war strategies, to figuring out every possible move he could guess she could make while they danced, when he only had one hand, when he had move. When she moved to the left or right. The sacred geometry of it all, their movements poetry being written. Co authors of book of secrets and hidden truths. How she wheeled and pun and he glided across the floor.

It was as if they were dancing among the stars, just them, in one glorious harmony. He felt light as air, weightless.

Her smile and how she hummed to the score that played. It kept him there in rapture. He wanted to be close to her; closer. Close in a way he couldn't describe. Like if souls were real, he wanted his to melt with hers. To touch someone in a way he never had before. He wanted to be inside her.

The last thought sent a cold chill down his spine, and Fulgrim's cruel words burned into his mind again. How everything he did, everything he felt, he would have to worry that it was bringing him one step closer. Suddenly he felt ill, disgusted with himself. But the score ended then. Everything crashed around him. Sounds returned and suddenly it was all too loud and he didn't want all these eyes on him.

Roboute bowed awkwardly, Astraea looked at him with worry, “Guilliman? Did I offend you somehow?”

“No,” he shook his head, his tone weak, “Just...excuse me. I need air.” was all he chose to say before leaving her standing there alone.

#warhammer 40k #warhammer 40000 #roboute guilliman #primarch x oc #warhammer fanfic

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