#I'm probably risking getting myself blocked | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

whipped-for-kpop-fics · 2 months ago

Text

Troublemaker - C.SC

🚨Who: Choi Seungcheol (Seventeen) x female reader 🚨What: Gang au, smut, gang boss Seungcheol, gang member reader, angst, humour(low key crackish) and some fluff to top it all off. 🚨Wordcount: 15.9k 🚨Warnings: Do not take anything I write about police/law seriously, I don’t know shit about anything, okay. Reader is unhinged and shameless(and emotionally incompetent). Gang typical stuff; violence, drugs, alcohol, prostitution, theft etc. Handcuffs. Profanity. Degrading names. Unprotected sex, hair pulling, oral(both), multiple sex scenes/positions, breeding kink, choking, multiple orgasms, clit slapping, marking and potentially other fun things I’m likely forgetting about.

Summary: You're known for being able to get your hands on anything you want; drugs, weapons, money, cars. Except your boss, he's always been a little out of your reach, until the day you have him handcuffed in the backseat.

Minors do NOT interact, which means reblogging and/or commenting on this story. I WILL block any account that interacts without an age indicator in their bio.

-2024 Masterlist-

A/N- the image of Seungcheol on his knees with his hands behind his head getting arrested popped into my head and spawned this and i am not okay This story well and truly ran away from me, I cannot be held accountable for this shitshow. I planned a quick lil smut thing and then the fluff and angst appeared and here we are.

It's a beautiful sight to pull up to; the Choi Seungcheol on his knees, thick thighs spread wide with his fingers lacing together behind his head, biceps bulging in his plain white t-shirt. The same Choi Seungcheol who for the past four years has been running the most cunning, slippery gang that has graced the city in decades.

Local law enforcement has been trying to get their mitts on him since before he even started the gang, but Seungcheol is smart, he's always made sure to keep his hands squeaky clean.

Which is why when you heard the news come through on your police scanner that he's been spotted with some real nasty fuckers and this is the chance to get him cuffed, you wanted to get there asap to witness and join the scene.

Who wouldn't want to have the pleasure of slapping some cuffs on Choi Seungcheol and shove him around a little, afterall?

"What did you get him for?" You ask as you approach the scene with nothing but confidence, thumbs hooked into your belt casually.

Seungcheol glances over at you and his jaw tightens with how hard he clenches his teeth; he takes you in from head to toe, dressed in uniform so crisp it's like you've just pulled it on. You have. He doesn't look impressed.

"Probable cause," the young, over-eager cop getting ready to handcuff Seungcheol informs, sounding almost proud while his partner keeps his gun pointed firmly at Seungcheol's head.

Seungcheol isn't stupid, reckless at times, yeah; he's been known to get pretty injured and take some big risks with his own body in order to get what he wants, but even he wouldn't risk making a move in front of a trigger-happy rookie-cop.

"Oh, you fucking idiots," you laugh, walking over to snatch the cuffs into your own hold.

"What the fuck?" The younger cop baulks dumbstruck. "Who the fuck are you to just-"

"You really think you're going to get brownie points with the Captain by brining him Choi Seungcheol with no solid fucking cause? You think you can just put the guy in cuffs and the rest will follow? You're fucking stupid, kid,"

"But we caught him,"

"Yeah and you know what his legal team is like? You're fucking lucky I turned up,"

"Why?"

"Because I'm willing to take him off your hands and deal with it myself. I've had my eye on Choi for fucking years, boys; I've got quite the file on him. What have you got?"

Admittedly, you take a hell of a lot of joy in grabbing Seungcheol's right forearm to force it down and around to his lower back where you can secure the cuff around his wrist. He grunts at the unexpected force yet doesn't fight you, just clenches his jaw tighter.

"That's a good boy," you whisper into his ear while the two cops exchange lost, almost torn expressions as they attempt to silently communicate with one another what to do.

Clearly, they don't want to just hand the man over to you but you're right; they don't have shit on Seungcheol and it would only cause them a lot of hassle to arrest him. He's too smart to talk, even in holding and would just stare darkly at them, not moving a muscle until he's released. It happened before, once, over a year ago and his legal team tore apart the station so thoroughly that the cops who arrested him had to resign and get minimum wage jobs despite being the best the precinct had to offer.

Once you've got Seungcheol securely in the cuffs, you grab his bicep and appreciatively squeeze it as you tug on him to signal him up. You have to bite back your pleased grin at the powerful man listening to your silent orders and obediently getting up. He glares at you over his shoulder.

"You boys better get back to your patrol before you get demoted," you warn, shoving Seungcheol towards your car. He stumbles a little and glares at you again but you ignore it to reach past him and open the back door.

Seungcheol swears and mutters under his breath when you roughly push his head down and urge him into the back of the car. He almost falls flat on his face onto the cheap imitation-leather seats. You shut the door before his colourful language cussing you out, spills out any further.

"What?" You ask the two young men still watching you dumbly. "I know, my ass looks great in these," you smirk smugly to yourself and smack your own ass making both men jump at the loud, sudden sound.

"Yeah," the younger agrees mindlessly, eyes now glued to your ass as you open the driver's door.

"Idiot," his partner hisses, backhanding him. "Don't fucking agree, now she's gonna report you for sexual harrassment!"

"She started it!"

While the pair are arguing, you take the chance to climb into your car and drive off with a pleased little cackle at causing the most chaos you could with so little to work with.

At the end of the street, Seungcheol kicks the back of your seat. You don't need to look at him to know he's glaring at you, you can feel the burn of his gaze on the side of your face. You love it.

"Now now, Mr Choi, please respect my car," he kicks the seat again making you snicker. "So ungrateful, I just saved you from being locked in an interrogation room for 24 hours. You'd think you'd be at least a little appreciative."

"Like fuck am I," he grunts and shuffles closer to the criss cross of bars separating the two halves of the car. "Didn't have to be so fucking rough, you bitch." You lift your eyes to the rearview mirror to meet his gaze and grin smugly at him before returning your gaze to the road in front of you. "Sick fuck, you get off on it, don't you?"

"Damn right," you confirm shamelessly with an almost twisted smirk. "Big boss man on his knees for ickle ol' me. Gets me all warm and tingly, Cheolie."

"How many times have I got to tell you not to fucking call me that?" He's too close to the front seats to kick them again but he does knee the back of yours where his legs are spread as wide as possible in his pale ripped jeans to allow him so close.

Fuck, you wish you could see his thighs right now. You quickly look over at him to test your range of sight but the fucking seats are in the way. Dammit.

You sigh and turn back to the road forlornly. "Well, maybe if you ever punish me like you claim you will and then never stick to it, I might learn my lesson."

"You'd fucking like it," he grumbles. You just grin. Yeah, you definitely would. "Pull over and uncuff me."

"Nope."

"I'm warning you, little one,"

"Pretty sure I'm the one in charge here," you chirp, unaffected by his low, warning tone. Though a second later you're choking on a laugh when his body jerks forward due to you suddenly breaking to join the queue of traffic at a red light. Seungcheol's forehead slams into the grate making him swear harshly. "Oops," you offer with false innocence and a big grin.

"You fucking-" he starts harshly, only to cut off when you pull away rapidly at the green light, sending him toppling back in the seats and cutting off with a surprised sound. You don't stop yourself from laughing that time.

"Now, here's what's gonna happen, Cheolie," you declare when you turn around in your seat to look at where the big gang boss is sitting quietly in the back seat, hands still cuffed behind him between his thick body and the backrest. His thick legs spread with his slouched position.

Man, he's so fucking thick. You know it's true all over his body. You've conveniently walked in on him fucking enough people to know that the man's blessed with a diabolically thick cock too.

Not forgetting the memorable time he didn't notice your very obvious spy camera in his bedroom for a full two months. For two glorious months you got to watch him wrap a hand around his cock and cum over his chest in live action and automatically recorded for your rewatch pleasure.

You've never been more glad that he has a strict policy of not taking anyone to his home to fuck, you quite enjoyed his solo sessions and still watch them regularly.

In fact, you had been watching one while spread over your own bed when the scanner had caught your attention. You didn't even have the chance to clean up, your thighs are still sticky. But that could also just be from having Seungcheol in handcuffs.

"You happened to interrupt my favourite hobby by almost getting arrested and making me come to your rescue."

"If you say you were watching those fucking videos again-" he starts.

"I wouldn't have to if you didn't increase your security and make it harder for me to put up new cameras."

"I did that so I don't have your perverted ass watching me in my private spaces!" He barks. "I swear, one day I'm going to actually choke you,"

"Do it," the sparkle in your eyes makes Seungcheol groan in frustration and tip his head back, eyes closing as he prays to a god he doesn't believe in for strength to handle you and your endless depravities. "Question,"

"What?" He sighs and lifts his head to look at you resignedly. After knowing you for so many years, he knows it's just easier to play along unless he wants to deal with you badgering him for the rest of the day.

"Would you use your hands to choke me?"

"What else?"

"Your thighs-"

"Shut up," he groans and pushes himself further upright. "Can you go a single day without making a remark about my thighs?"

"No. Can you crush my head between them like you did that watermelon?"

"I should've never done that. I thought playing along would make you shut the fuck up asking but no, you're even worse."

"I appreciate art and those thighs, Choi Seungcheol are pure fucking art."

"We have very different definitions of art," he deadpans.

"Yes, I know," you roll your eyes. "You like silicone and spray tan,"

"Do I?" He raises an amused eyebrow at you when you look at him suspiciously.

"Every woman I've seen you fuck are more silicone than my dildo collection."

"Not gonna comment on the collection," he mutters, looking more like he's convincing himself that his curiosity at how extensive your collection may be is not worth actually engaging you in a discussion about your sex life, which he knows heavily involves masturbating to those videos of him masturbating.

"Do you want to see?" You offer brightly. "I have one that I think could compare to your cock," your gaze drops down to his crotch where there's an obvious bulge that you know is him flaccid. "Maybe..." you suck on your bottom lip thoughtfully as your mind runs wild with memories of the sight of his cock peeking through his fist as he chases his high. Or wrapped in rubber as he bent another woman with fake tits over his desk, or face first against a too-rough wall to take what he wants.

You really don't know how he can claim to not have a type when you truly have only seen him actually having sex with one type of woman. You've seen him seduce and hit on a wide range of people, not even just women, but that's always to get his way and he doesn't fuck them, even if he does sometimes make out with them just to win them over.

"Stop thinking about my cock," Seungcheol deadpans, snapping you back to reality and looking up at him, though your gaze darts back down realising there's a change in the bulge. "Don't-"

"Are you getting hard?!" You gasp, shuffling onto your knees excitedly and gripping the grate.

"No."

"Liar," you grin, eyes sparkling.

Seungcheol knows he's done for now; for years you've been trying to fuck him and now, now he's actually lost his usual firm grip on his own libido and let you see that he's not actually turned off by you in any way.

"So, what's going to happen, Cheolie-" he swears at you, head tipping back to stare up at the ceiling. Of course, you ignore the interruption. "Seeing as you ruined my me-time, I'm going to come back there-"

"And uncuff me."

"No, silly boy," you giggle. "And ride your giant cock."

Seungcheol curses under his breath and swallows before lifting his head to look at you.

For a few moments, you both just stare at each other. You, in wait for permission, because although you do a lot of questionable shit you'd never physically force yourself on anyone, and Seungcheol, clearly in thought.

"Get back here," he decides in a low, rough tone that makes your lower stomach twist and squeeze with genuine aroused excitement.

"Fuck yeah," you exhale, climbing out of the car where minutes ago you parked in one of the many empty warehouses belongings to Seungcheol’s gang.

Seungcheol watches through the window as you make short work of kicking off your shoes and removing your trousers and panties. He tries to look at you properly but that stupid fucking police uniform shirt you're wearing hangs to the top of your thighs and makes it so that he can't see shit. Not even once you've got the back door open and crawl into the backseat.

"You got a condom?" He asks, letting out a harsh exhale when you start to palm at his cock without warning.

"Nope," You shrug carelessly and use your free hand to open his belt before working on the button and zipper. "Got a problem with that?"

"Fucking you raw?" You hum in confirmation and reluctantly let go of his cock so that you can yank down his jeans and boxers. Seungcheol helpfully lifts his hips off of the seat, leaning back onto his shoulders against the backrest for balance to let you get the clothing down to his knees and reveal his rapidly-hardening cock to your greedy gaze. "You may be fucking psychotic at the best of the times and fucking weirdly obsessed with me-"

"Hey," you complain, pouting at him offendedly.

"Are you really pouting at me for calling you psychotic?" He deadpans in disbelief. He's called you worse before, much worse and you usually just giggle and act like he's given you a giant compliment.

"What? No," you scoff and move over to straddle his thighs. "It's you saying weirdly obsessed as if you're not the single hottest person I've ever met. How dare you?"

Seungcheol licks his lips and looks down to watch at what he thought was you making a move to ride his cock like you said you would. But no, you adjust your position at the last second and sit right on his left thigh.

"You're so fucking wet," he comments, voice thick with arousal and awe. His mouth drops open a little when you drag your slick pussy over his thigh and smear wetness over bare skin. "Fuck,"

"This is what you do to me, Cheolie," you complain and wrap your hand around his cock roughly. He groans and tips his head forward, thunking his forehead on your shoulder as you jerk him in time with the drag of your pussy up and down his thigh while he tenses it to make his muscles bulge and give you something firmer to grind your clit down on.

It feels better than you could’ve imagined and you’ve fantasised about riding Seungcheol’s beefy thighs more times than you can count.

"You're so fucking shameless," he grunts after a moment of just watching your movements. You're torturing him with the too-rough, slow pull of your palm against his cock, never close enough to the top to catch any of the precum that's starting to dribble down the side.

"For you, not anyone else,"

"You're going to give me a giant head,"

"It'll match your cock."

Seungcheol huffs a laugh and lifts his head to look at you. "You gonna sit on it then?"

"I'd love to, but you didn't actually say you're okay with not using a condom. I know you always do with those women."

"You're not them," it's perhaps the softest fucking thing Seungcheol has ever said to you. Your movements slow to a stop as you stare at him in surprise. "I trust you with every fucking aspect of the gang, trust you to back me up more than I do anyone else. You think I'd put my life in your hands and not the health of my dick?" He scoffs. "I trust you to not do this if you have anything you could pass on and I know I sure as fuck don't."

"And what if you knock me up?" Seungcheol raises his eyebrows at you bewilderedly, barely even noticing that you've stopped grinding on his thigh and have moved over to hover over his cock. "What?"

Seungcheol opens his mouth to respond but you decide to drop down onto his cock, letting his thick length split you open harshly as you both moan at the sudden friction. "Fuck!" He exclaims, head tipped back and eyes screwed shut. "You-you fucking idiot," he lifts his head to look at you. "You didn't even take it slow! You could get fucking hurt!"

"Good, I like it," you smirk, proud of yourself for getting the usually so put-together man so worked up. There's something beautifully wild in his dark eyes and a pretty pink smeared over his cheeks.

You really wish you hadn’t left your phone in your trousers, you’d love to take a photo of him right now. You’d put it as your lock screen and he’d probably threaten to beat your ass if you don’t remove it, yet he never follows through with his threats to you.

"You're fucking crazy,"

"Yep." You grin and grind down against him, breath catching as his cock presses against multiple sensitive spots inside you that has you repeating the swirl of your hips again and again and again.

"Fu-fuck, just ride me, shit," he groans, trying to urge you to bounce by thrusting his hips up against you.

"Don't you like this?" You pout at him, faux-offended and keep at it. You know he likes it. It's clear by the tightness of his expression; the pleasure is clear in his furrowed brows and tense jaw, shoulders pressed back against the seat and biceps bulging as he tries to free himself from the cuffs.

You really hope he doesn't break them, you really fucking like him like this. Then again, the thought of Seungcheol using his stupidly beefy arms to break free from his binds so that he can grab your hips and force you to take the pummelling of his giant dick against your pussy walls, well that's a real fucking nice thought.

It makes you clench down on him and he moans, head tipping back and showing you the unblemished expanse of his throat. You wonder if he'd let you bite him.

"Can I bite you?" You ask, falling still.

"What the fuck?" He looks at you as if you're insane. Which, not exactly a new expression on the man when he's faced with you. But this time he looks utterly offended too.

"Is that a no?" You pout.

"I don't give a fuck, just keep going!" He demands, looking crazed.

"Can I kiss you too?" Seungcheol rolls his eyes and instead of verbally responding he tilts forward to crash his lips to yours, desperation urging him to kiss you in such a filthy way that your pussy throbs.

"Bounce," he growls against your lips before letting out a string of almost whispered praise when you obey and start to lift and drop yourself, finally riding his cock like both of you have been wanting for admittedly, longer than he's been in cuffs.

To your surprise, Seungcheol keeps kissing you and chases your lips every time you lean back or turn your head for breath, or just because you think he probably wants to stop and focus on your pussy dragging up and down his cock, soaking him with every wet smack of your thighs against his.

"Che-cheol," you pant out, knotting your fingers in his head to force him back and allow you to actually breathe. He moans deeply and his eyes roll back. Very interesting reaction indeed.

You never took Seungcheol to like having his hair pulled, but the filthy moans he lets out every time you experimentally tighten or yank on the strands now you've got the idea in your head, tell you that the man really fucking likes it. Not even mentioning how he fucks up into you harder every time too.

"Good boy," you compliment breathlessly, looking down at his cock sliding into you as you pretty much just hover over him now, more interested in finding out what makes him tick and turns him on than actually riding him. Not that you need to when he's doing a good enough job fucking you even with his arms restrained.

You just know he'd ruin you if he had full use of his body. He'd ruin you and you'd thank him for it and ask to repeat it every fucking day. He could break your hips and you'd thank him.

"Oh, fuck I-I'm gonna cum," he warns making your eyes widen in alarm.

"No!"

Seungcheol opens his eyes to look at you with equally as wide eyes yet doesn't stop fucking into you. "The fuck you mean no?"

"You can't cum yet! I'm not done!"

"I'm gonna-"

"No!"

"Fuck," his eyes roll back and he lets out a string of porn-worthy moans as he jerks up into you a few times harshly while filling you with cum.

You can only gawp at him in disbelief, one hand still in his hair and the other braced on his heaving chest. "Are you fucking kidding me?!" You exclaim, slapping his chest as he slouches against the seat while trying to catch his breath back. "You useless man!" You pinch his nipple where it's pressing against his t-shirt making him yelp and shoot his eyes open to look at you.

"What the fuck?"

"What kind of a gang boss are you, huh?" You berate, climbing off of him and wincing at the feel of his softening cock slipping out of you, trailing cum with it. You don't even care that it's getting all over him and the seats as you move. "To bust in minutes, you that pussy whipped, Choi Seungcheol?" You tut and shove him down on the seats.

"Ow, you fucking-" he cuts off, awkwardly wriggling to get on his back instead of laying painfully on his right shoulder. "I'm gonna beat your ass as soon as these cuffs are off, bitch," he warns, watching you with dark eyes, half warning, half aroused, as you clamber over his body.

"Ooh, call me more names, my likey," you wiggle your eyebrows at him as you plant your knees either side of his face.

It visibly takes everything in Seungcheol to keep his eyes on your face and not look at your pussy that's inches from his face and dripping cum down your slick inner-thighs. "You're clinically fucking insane, aren't you?"

"I work for you, comes with the job," you coo, leaning over to plant your left hand on the door above his head to get your balance, your right hand knotting into his hair making him let out a groan that travels through your body as your pussy meets his parted lips. "Now, make me cum like a good boy, Cheolie,"

To your utter delight, the words are barely out of your mouth before Seungcheol's tongue is dragging through your folds, uncaring that he's swallowing down his own cum as he enthusiastically starts to eat you out like a man starved.

Honestly, you've never seen Seungcheol do this. You've never known if he's the type of man to eat pussy and if so, if he does it as a means to get his dick wet or because he actually enjoys it. But now? Now you fucking know.

Seungcheol is making more noise than you are as he greedily laps and sucks at your pussy, alternating between thrusting his tongue into your hole and suckling on your clit. You swear, the man is determined to suck your soul out through your clit, he's not gentle about it at all but you can't lie, you really fucking enjoy the rough, messy actions.

"T-that's it," you encourage when his tongue is back inside of you as deep as he can get it to lick at your inner walls greedily, nose grinding against your clit with every movement of his head and his eyes closed, eyebrows furrowed in concentration.

His face is buried so deep between your thighs that you're positive he can't breathe but even when you loosen your hold on his hair and stop moving your hips against his face to let him have space, he dives in even deeper somehow.

The pure unfiltered enthusiasm he devours your pussy with sends you hurtling to a powerful orgasm that takes you a bit by surprise when he gets a little too into it and his teeth drag over your skin. You didn't know you like that, but now you certainly do as you shudder and gasp over him, fingers tightening in his hair and letting the vibration of his groans and moans help ride you through as you smother him in your pussy.

Your legs feel like jelly when you shakily clamber off of his face and drop to sit on his still exposed thighs. His cock is making a valiant effort to get hard again. It's very distracting but you're both breathing too hard and trying to remember how to get air into your lungs to even consider going for round two. Well, mostly.

"Please tell me you have a key for these," Seungcheol says once he's caught his breath a few minutes later, still laid back with his eyes closed.

"No," you snigger at the pissed off look he gives you as he lifts his head enough to look at you. "Since when have I needed keys to open locks?"

"Good point," he drops back down, though immediately lifts his head again when you dance your fingers teasingly over his semi-erect dick. "Don't."

"Why not?" You pout and wrap your hand around his cock, thumbing at the head a little harshly but he clearly likes it judging by the way he gets harder in your hold and hisses, hips pushing up automatically to encourage you.

"Because I'll fucking dislocate my shoulders," he points out, trying to roll his shoulders but not really doing a good job thanks to his forced position. "And I can't hold you down and fuck you if my arms don't fucking work, can I?"

"You actually want to do that?"

"Always have," he shrugs and slumps in relief when you let go of him and shuffle back.

"No, you've never wanted to fuck me." You frown confusedly at him as he sits up with a few little grunts from the effort and release of pressure against his arms from being laid on them.

"I've always wanted to fuck your insane ass, which I guess makes me insane too. I know you're into some fucked up shit, I've seen the porn you watch."

"Don't kinkshame me,"

"Don't fucking use my computer to watch porn then!"

"But your office chair is big enough that I can spread my legs comfortably on to touch myself."

"You've masturbated in my office chair?" He deadpans, looking unimpressed. Yet when you nod in confirmation, you notice the flicker of arousal in his gaze. "Great, now I'm going to be thinking about that when I'm supposed to be working."

"You can always call me and I'll happily sit under your desk with your cock in my mouth, keep it warm and ready to sit on when you're done working."

"This is why I never fucking let you know." He shuffles towards the still open door, making you back out until you're standing on still slightly trembling legs. "Knew I'd never be able to stop once I had you." Seungcheol gets out of the car and turns his back to you. "Get these off me so I can bend you over and fuck you until you can't walk."

"Don't need to tell me twice," you quickly grab your lock-picking set from your trouser pocket before kneeling down behind Seungcheol to unpick the cuffs.

It takes you longer than it should to pick the lock because you're very distracted by his bare, plump ass right in front of your face. As soon as he moves his hands to roll his shoulders and rub his red-raw wrists, you lean forward and bite his asscheek.

"What the fuck?!" He shrieks, jolting away and turning to face you with wide eyes and red cheeks. "Did you just bite my ass?"

"Yes," your confirmation is utterly shameless as you stare up at him from still on your knees.

Seungcheol stares back at you for a moment, before sliding his hand into your hair and tugging you forward, smirking as your mouth opens wide to accept his cock without question or complaint.

"Good girl," he breathes out as you immediately start to suck and lick at him, humming and making appreciative noises at having his cock in your mouth finally. It's only taken five years.

Though Seungcheol doesn't let you enjoy him as thoroughly as you'd like. As soon as his tip touches your throat at your attempt to start deepthroating him, he pulls you off and yanks you up.

You're not given time to even complain or whine, or beg for his cock back, before he's got you with your hands on the roof of the car and chest bowing into the open doorway so that he can grind his cock against your still sopping wet pussy.

"You never explained the knocked up comment," he informs as he crowds up against your back, one big hand holding your wrists by the edge of the roof and the other gripping your hip tight.

"What?"

"You said about me getting you knocked up."

"And?"

"We both got done, on the same fucking day, remember? We’re medically infertile," He nips at your earlobe on the harder side and grins smugly when your breath catches and you press back against his cock.

"Never heard of a breeding kink, Cheolie?"

"Huh, you're into that?"

"I'm into anything if it's you."

He pauses his movements, lips parted against your ear for a few seconds before he suddenly lets go of your hip and pulls his own back to grab his cock and lead it to your entrance. He feeds it into you just far enough that he can let go and take your hip back into his hold before he thrusts forward, burying his cock into you in one quick, hard thrust. It jolts you forward and makes you moan loudly.

"Gonna fill you up every fucking day, baby," he promises, sounding far more affected than he did moments ago. "Gonna fill you with my cum until it sticks. Gonna breed you so fucking good, yeah?"

"Fuck, yeah, yeah, fuck me full, Cheolie," you agree, nodding madly and arching your back to push back against him while widening your stance to get him deeper, even if it means you have to push up onto your tiptoes to account for the height difference.

"That's my good fucking girl," he approves, pushing your shirt up and holding it at your waist to give him full view of your ass as he begins to fuck into you harshly.

Honestly, you have no idea if you're truly alone in the warehouse, you know that various gang members use the warehouses for meets and their own trysts but you do not give a single flying fuck.

You moan loud and shameless as Seungcheol fucks all thoughts from your head. He clearly doesn't care if anyone hears either, he moans and grunts without care, growling dirty words at you that you can barely babble a response at with the quickly growing pleasure in your body.

“Never letting anyone touch this pussy again,” he declares in amongst his moans and panting, not slowing down once in his determination to ruin you. “You’re mine, understand?”

You nod rapidly but can’t answer as that ball of pleasure in your belly clenches so tightly at his possessive words. As soon as his palm comes down on your ass with the intention of prompting you to verbally respond, that ball bursts; sending pleasure through your whole body and making your consistent moans turn higher in pitch, babbling his name repeatedly as your pussy convulses around his still-pistoning cock.

“Fuck, baby,” he groans, fucking into you a few more times before he slows to a gradual stop. You can feel that he’s still hard within you and whine a little, pushing your hips back against him to try and get him back to work. “You’re shaking,” he points out, pulling out and carefully helping you down onto flat feet, taking some pressure off of your thighs. You melt back against him when he winds his arms around your waist supportively and kisses your head.

The two of you remain like that for a few minutes as you catch your breath back and your body stops shaking like a fucking leaf.

“You okay?” He asks softly, lips trailing over your cheek and temple. It’s much too tender. You like it, yeah, but you hadn’t been prepared for the care he’s giving you.

He has always cussed at you and called you names with disturbed expressions. You’ve never cared about that, the names and harsh words have truly never bothered you and amused you more than anything. Seungcheol has never actually hurt you even when he’s slapped you away from him or thrown items at you, he has always purposely near-missed you. His aim is too good to unintentionally miss you all the time.

But this, the fingers trailing over you mindlessly, the lips brushing against your skin and the words spoken in a fond voice you’ve never fucking heard the man use, well that’s a lot to take in.

“No,” you reply.

“Oh, what can I do? Did I hurt-”

“You can go back to fucking me,”

“You’re still shaking,”

“That’s because you were doing a good job! Gold star Seungcheol!”

“What happened to Cheolie?”

“You don’t even fucking like it!” You groan and wriggle out of his arms with every intention of pushing him away and getting your clothes back on but he pulls you right back in, chest to chest and looks at you so devastatingly fucking adoringly your breath catches in your throat in a giant ball of what the fuck Choi Seungcheol.

“I like it,” he murmurs. “I like it because it’s you. I just…couldn’t let you know that.”

“And now you can? You fucked me and now suddenly everything changes?”

“You wanted things to be the same?” He frowns, hurt trickling onto his expression as his arms fall away from you.

“I thought it was just sex,” you admit.

“Right,” he scoffs, yanking his boxers and jeans up as he steps away from you, dick sadly deflated despite being hard and pressed against your ass a minute ago. “See this is why I never fucking wanted this!” He exclaims, turning angry now as he reaches down to grab your panties and trousers to toss at you harshly. You wince when the police-issue gun and holster smack into your ribs.

Seungcheol pauses for a split second noticing that he hurt you but then he carries on, throwing your boots at you next. You don’t even bother trying to catch them and let them collide painfully with your thighs then topple down, the hard edges of the soles sending pain through the tops of your feet.

“Why are you just fucking standing there?!” He snaps, stalking over to yank the items from your hands and get to his knees to roughly force your feet into the trousers and panties at once.

“Seungcheol-”

“Shut the fuck up,” he snaps. For the first time, you listen to him.

A few minutes later, you’re in the passenger seat of the car as Seungcheol drives recklessly through the back streets. You don’t even have it in you to tell him to slow down because you both would get arrested and you don’t think even his lawyers could talk him out of getting locked up for driving a fake police car with fake licence plates and over the speed limits without either of you wearing seat belts.

He drives to a side street behind his apartment building and doesn’t even put the car in park, just stops it and gets out, slamming the door behind him before storming off. You take it for the harsh dismissal it is and climb over the centre console to get into the drivers’ seat to head off.

For the first time in years, you don’t see Seungcheol for days. You don’t think it’s wise to test him right now. You still don’t think he’d hurt you, but you think your presence would hurt him and you don’t want that.

Despite what Seungcheol obviously thinks, and with good reason too because you didn’t say anything otherwise, you do care about the man. A hell of a fucking lot.

It wasn’t instant, there wasn’t a moment where your eyes locked across the table on that set-up blind-date between you that was really both of your little groups of criminals and deviants trying to get information on the other group. You had both clocked each other and although it could’ve gone badly, Seungcheol had asked you to team up on a job and the gang was born shortly after.

Your connection was about work from day one, but spending time with the man even when he told you to fuck off when you would jokingly hit on him, it kind of really gave you a giant fucking weak spot in the shape of his stupid, charming face.

The relentless flirting and sexual remarks, although they are all genuine, became your way to hide the truth of your feelings. Lean into lust to hide the love. It just seems that it worked too fucking well.

You had honestly forgotten that the flutter in your stomach when your eyes meet Seungcheol’s isn’t all lust; that it isn’t just horny little demons running rampant and trying to tell you to get his cock in you, but butterflies too. Excited, pretty little butterflies flapping their wings and trying to lift you up into the clouds to where you and Seungcheol can skip merrily through the meadows together hand in hand like that scene in Shrek before the villagers chased the ogres down with pitchforks.

But that isn’t realistic. You can’t skip hand in hand through a meadow, mostly because Seungcheol has damaged his knees from throwing himself around too much to skip anywhere, though it would be funny to watch his hobbling attempt.

Well, at least up until a few days ago you thought it wasn’t realistic. You didn’t think Seungcheol had anything but a respect for you as one of his gang members and a good fucking one too. He often turns to you to get shit done when others have failed or if it’s too risky, too important to send others in, you’re the one he goes to. You thought that’s all your relationship equates to.

But apparently, you haven’t paid enough attention to Seungcheol to have missed the man apparently having some kind of feelings for you.

You’re not going to assume he’s in love with you, it’s now obvious to you that he holds some kind of candle for you, but you’re not naive or hopeless enough to assume his tender touches that turned to hurt anger, to be love.

Choi Seungcheol likes you. Romantically. Sexually too. That part was great, top marks. Gold star indeed. If that’s all it had been, you’re pretty sure you’d have been spread over his desk every day since or tucked under it like you offered to cockwarm him with your mouth. That would’ve been great.

But nope, feelings. And not the touching each other up kind of ones.

All in all, it’s a giant fucking shitshow and not in the way you purposely orchestrate for your own twisted amusement. You hope things will fix themselves shortly because you don’t know how much more of this you can handle. But honestly, you really don’t think they will.

“So,” Minghao starts as he invites himself to join you in the car you’ve borrowed for the fun of it. You look at him with noodles hanging out of your mouth and wide eyes. “What the fuck did you do to piss Seungcheol off so much?”

“Me?” You garble around your food still hanging out of your mouth and pointing at your own chest. The look the man gives you is utterly disgusted and it makes you snigger before you actually chew and swallow your food. “Why do you assume I did something to piss him off?”

“Maybe the fact you haven’t been around in a week and every time I’ve suggested he asks for your help like we need, he pretends to have never heard of you while breaking yet another fucking pen in his fist.”

“Sounds like you need to stop getting cheap pens,” you mutter, reaching for your drink in the cup holder but he takes it.

You watch as Minghao noisily slurps up the liquid through the straw, defiantly holding eye contact with you. But then he gags and quickly puts the cup in your awaiting hand so that he can turn, open the car door and spit the drink out onto the parking lot of the restaurant you’re parked in to enjoy your lunch.

“What the fuck is in that?!” He shrieks when he’s done sputtering, turning to look at you with wide eyes behind his wire-framed glasses.

“Coke,”

“That is not coke,”

“Both kinds, and mint schnapps,”

“I fucking hate you.”

“Valid.” You nod and slurp at your unholy concoction.

It wasn’t even your choice, you accidentally dropped a badly sealed baggie of the white powder into your cup when you tipped the contents of the hip flask from the glovebox into the cup. You had assumed it was whiskey or vodka or something normal, not fucking mint schnapps of all things. That’s what you get for tipping out the contents of a stolen hip flask from a stolen car into your drink without at least giving it a cursory sniff-test first.

Minghao watches you with something like fear on his features as you don’t even flinch at the truly disgusting flavour that coats your tongue. You’ve had worse things in your mouth, you can say that much.

Mostly thanks to Soonyoung’s own habit of shoving any food and drink into his mouth to consume like some kind of tastebud-less heathen. There’s probably a reason you’ve been friends for so long. One that doesn’t involve a bloodpact you made as idiot children that you’re both too stubborn to turn your back on first.

“So, what did you do? Ask to put something questionable in his ass?” Minghao soldiers on as he steals the unopened chocolate bar from the dashboard to open and bite into, looking very relieved at having the haunting taste of your drink covered by the sweet on his tongue. “Ask him to put something questionable in your ass?”

“No,” you scoff, poking at your noodles with your chopsticks.

Minghao pauses in his rapid chewing to watch you consideringly. He’s never seen you like this, like you have actual human emotions beside lust and maniacal joy at making others suffer in various ways borne of your chaotic ideas.

“It’s serious,” he realises in a mutter. You shrug and give up with your lunch, suddenly not hungry for it and pass it over to him so that you can start the car up. “What happened?”

“What’s the job?” You ask as you drive out of the lot in a way that closes the car door he hadn’t fully closed. The slam of the door makes Minghao jolt, he had forgotten it was even open and rolls his eyes a little at you not asking him to shut it before driving off.

“He’s dealing with it,”

“That’s stupid if you think I should be doing it.”

“Yeah, well, according to him, you don’t exist so he’s the best chance.”

“If you wanted to send me in, that means it requires a delicate touch-”

“You set a warehouse on fire last month, that’s not a delicate touch.”

“That wasn’t for a job, that was for fun, leave me alone.”

“You…whatever. He can handle the job, it’s just a different direction than you’d take.”

“Has he gone in fists swinging?”

“No. He’s seducing someone for information.”

“Ah, dick swinging,” you mutter, feeling a sourness in your chest and rising up your throat. You’ve not felt this before when you’ve heard of Seungcheol seducing someone to get the job done.

You haven’t even felt it when you’ve literally walked in on him balls-deep in some woman over his desk; you would just stand there until he noticed you, then annoy him by dragging out whatever it was you turned up for. It was all fun and games. This burning tickling your throat isn’t.

Jealousy is not something you’re familiar with and you immediately decide you hate it.

“You know he doesn’t…” he trails off, expression twisting as he recalls something based on his expression. “Well, usually he doesn’t fuck his marks but-”

“What?!” You exclaim, slamming on the breaks and looking at Minghao with crazed eyes.

Minghao yells which only grows when a car audibly swerves behind you to not rear-end you. “Fucking drive you idiot!”

“He’s fucked the mark?” You ask, voice eerily level in a way that makes Minghao look at you and swallow thickly.

For the first time, Minghao is genuinely scared of you. He knows you are an unhinged, unrelenting mess at the best of times and in a way, you do always scare him because he never knows what you’re going to do. You could easily hurt him or anyone but you haven’t, you’re usually too busy making sexual remarks to Seungcheol, or someone about Seungcheol, loudly enough that the man himself can clearly hear.

And Minghao knows you’re a competent fighter, he’s seen proof of it but he’s never seen you fight yourself. He’s never seen you look so serious and pissed before either.

The carnage he’s seen the after effects of, the destruction you’ve caused, yet you’ve always had a grin on your face afterwards as if you’ve just been to an amusement park and had the time of your life splattered with blood. He knows how much damage you can cause in a good mood. So Minghao is genuinely terrified of what hell you can create when you’re in a foul mood, and right now? He thinks you would burn the world down and anyone who gets in your way.

“He-he hasn’t but he said he will if he needs to.”

“Where is he?”

The apartment you let yourself into is familiar and really not where you expected to end up when Minghao had given you his phone to let you use the app he and Seungcheol use to track each other. You hadn’t known about this app and you can only assume Seungcheol had made sure you didn’t know so that you couldn’t use it to stalk him. Which…valid worry. You definitely would’ve stalked him.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” You demand as you step into the living room and find Seungcheol slouched on the couch with a glass of whiskey in one hand, the bottle in the other and balanced on his thick thigh.

“This is my home,” he points out. “The fuck are you doing here?”

“Where is she?” You ask, peering around before inviting yourself to walk through the apartment, slamming open doors to rooms as you go in search of the woman Seungcheol was seducing for information.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” He retorts, following after you once he’s put the glass and bottle down on the coffee table. “Who?”

“The mark, Hao said you were planning to fuck her for information.”

“And you thought I’d bring her here?”

“Well how the fuck should I know?!” You turn to face him. “You don’t fuck your marks, Seungcheol! But you were going to, or have…” You eye him over, black shirt unbuttoned to his chest tucked into black trousers that show off his thick thighs and plump ass. Trousers you’ve told him you hold he never stops wearing, and then he promptly did stop to your disappointment. At least you thought he had.

“I didn’t,” he replies, shoving his hands into his pockets after they twitch at his sides.

“No?” You lift your gaze up to meet his eyes, or at least try to but he’s pointedly looking at the wall beside your left shoulder. “Did you get what you needed without fucking her?”

“No,” he admits and tenses his jaw a few times.

“Then what?”

“I don’t want to fuck her! I thought I could do it but I can’t.” He huffs and turns to storm back to the living room. Of course, you follow and watch as he downs the contents of his glass before pouring out more.

“Why did you suddenly think you could when you’ve never wanted to fuck for a job? You said that to me before, that you don’t ever want to fuck for work.”

“Because…it doesn’t fucking matter,”

“Obviously it does.” You walk over and take the glass from him after he’s swallowed down the contents again. “This isn’t you, Seungcheol. I’m the one who drinks at 1pm, not you.”

“Well maybe I should be allowed to be the fucked up asshole for once, huh?” He stares down at you darkly. “Why are you allowed to be a fuck up and I can’t?”

“Because you’re better than me, you always have been.” You pick up the bottle and turn to take it to the kitchen.

“I’m sorry,” he apologises as he follows you. “I don’t mean that, you’re not a fuck up.”

“I am, you know it, I know it, everyone knows it, Seungcheol so-”

“Please stop calling me that,” he breathes out.

You finish putting the lid on the bottle and put it in the liquor cabinet before putting the dirty glass in the dishwasher, and then you turn to look at him while leaning back against the counter behind you with your arms crossed loosely over your chest.

He looks…sad. You hate it.

“That’s your name, that’s what everyone calls you. That’s what you’ve been trying to get me to call you for years.”

“And you never fucking listened. Can’t…can’t we go back to that?”

“I don’t know, can we?”

Seungcheol does nothing but look at you for what feels like more than enough time for him to come to a definite answer hours ago. But he just keeps looking at you with those giant sad fucking eyes and his fingers gripping the edge of the island counter in front of him as if he needs to hold on to something and what he wants to hold isn’t in reach.

“I can try,” he offers. “Can you?”

“I’m not the one who has been denying the other’s existence,”

“You’re not the one who got their heart broken,” he retorts sharply before taking a deep breath as he closes his eyes. A clear sign of trying to calm himself. “No, I can’t, I can’t do this,” he decides, opening his eyes to land them back on you. “You need to leave.”

“For how long?”

“This is my apartment-”

“That’s not what I meant,” you uncross your arms and walk the few steps to the island in front of you, on Seungcheol’s adjacent right and close enough that either of you could easily reach out and touch. Neither of you do. “I’ll leave your apartment, I won’t argue about leaving now. But I need to know if this is the end of everything, Seungcheol. The past five years of working together, does it end now?”

“Is that all you care about? The fucking gang? Not our relationship? But the fucking gang?”

“That is our relationship,” you give him a bewildered look. “Before last week there’s never been anything but the gang.”

“You’re serious,” he mutters in disbelief.

“Well, yeah,”

“Get out.”

“That doesn’t answer-”

“Are you seriously that fucking stupid?!” He snaps, poking his own head. “You got nothing going on up here past work, huh?”

You just stare at him, not sure how to respond because admittedly, the things he’s been saying to you today have been hurting. Five years of insults and degrading names hasn’t once bothered you. But he’s never said hurtful things like this before.

“How Soonyoung has put up with you for so fucking long is beyond me.” He scoffs and steps back, away from you with a nasty expression on his face, eyes dark and cold in a way he has never looked at you. “He must be as fucking stupid as you.”

“Don’t you dare talk about him like that,” you warn, your own expression turning hard in defence of your best friend. “Say whatever you want about me but do not say a bad word against him.”

“Why not? Hurt your feelings?” He taunts. “Didn’t know you have those. Sure fucking fooled me.”

“Of course I have feelings, you dick, some of us just know how to keep them to ourselves and not let them rule our mouths.”

“Well you’ve kept yours really fucking close, great fucking job there. Gold fucking star. You’ve kept to yourself so much nobody knows shit about how you feel. I thought I did but obviously I was fucking wrong.” He turns to walk off yet turns back around and stalks right back to lean his palms on the counter and stare intently at you. “Just tell me this, did I ever mean fucking anything to you? Did you ever even think of me as a friend? I thought you did but you’ve dismissed this so fucking easily, you’re so fucking willing to walk away and only ask about the gang that I’m pretty sure I’ve been a naive fucking idiot this whole time.”

“Friends?” You mumble in surprise because honestly, you’ve never thought of Seungcheol as your friend. You’ve never tried to name what he is to you but you’re not sure you could if you tried.

Soonyoung is your friend, even Minghao you’d consider a friend. But Seungcheol? Perhaps at one point you could’ve thought of him in such a way but now you’ve been pushing down your true feelings for him for so long that you don’t even know how to classify him. Friend doesn’t feel right.

“Yes, friends, you know, people you like being around, people you can talk to about stuff other than work, get a drink with and have fun with.”

“Have we ever done any of that?” You genuinely wonder quietly.

You watch as the realisation dawns on Seungcheol and his anger melts into something pained. “No,” he admits quietly. “We haven’t.”

“Well, I guess there’s the answer,” you mumble, chest aching at what you know this means. That you and Seungcheol have never truly had a relationship of any kind outside of work. You’ve never realised that before, never before had to consider what that means. You wish you had, maybe then things now would be different.

“Right,” he huffs a humourless laugh as he backs up, eyes looking anywhere but you even as he turns. “Show yourself out and don’t…don’t come back.”

You can’t be certain, he talks too quietly and moves out of the kitchen and down the hall too quickly, but you think you catch the glint of tears on his cheeks.

Weeks pass as you go about your life, as you try to make a new life without Seungcheol or his gang playing such a pivotal part in it. You listened to his wishes, you left and didn’t return, you deleted his number and told Minghao it’s probably wise if he tells everyone that you’ve left the gang and won’t return; and then you deleted and blocked all of their numbers too once they started calling and texting to ask what the fuck happened.

Soonyoung didn’t know what happened at first, but he loyally left the gang too and then you both decided to just get new numbers to avoid the hassle of blocking everyone you’ve ever known in relation to the gang.

And then they started to turn up at your apartments so you packed up and left the city and Soonyoung still didn’t ask what happened.

Of course, you did tell him though. You told him everything that happened with you and Seungcheol and had to talk Soonyoung down from driving back to the city to try and beat up Seungcheol for the things he said to you in his apartment.

Try being the keyword, because although Soonyoung is more than a competent fighter and plenty strong enough, one of Seungcheol’s biceps is likely bigger than Soonyoung’s head.

But Soonyoung did calm enough to slap you around the head and call you an idiot for not telling Seungcheol the truth about your feelings when the man was clearly trying to start a relationship with you after fucking you dumb. You argue that the man had just fucked you dumb so your brain wasn’t working. Soonyoung said your brain doesn’t work full stop. Which…is kind of valid, at least where human relationships are involved.

And that leads us to your new life with your best friend in another town a two hour drive from the city and where Soonyoung has already made friends with a man who it took Soonyoung a worryingly long time to realise is a hooker.

You quite like his new friend and like to play bodyguard with Soonyoung when Junhui dresses up in expensive clothes to bag expensive clients his pimp sends him to meet. Junhui loves it too; having the two of you dressed up in suits and following behind him to keep him safe. He doesn’t even mind that you both stay at the edge of the room when he gets to work.

“This guy is a friend of Jeonghan’s,” Junhui explains from the backseat of the fancy car you can proudly say you didn’t even steal. Soonyoung stole it. You’re so proud of him.

“Which is why daddy Hannie is joining,” Soonyoung hums in understanding, nodding his head and almost hitting a lamppost before swerving at the last second after peering over the top of his dark sunglasses.

“Remove the fucking glasses, Soonyoung,” Jeonghan, Junhui’s pimp, sighs from Junhui’s right with both hands gripping the leather seats under him. Which is very understandable. “And please stop lying to me that you have your driver’s licence.”

“Told you it’s obvious,” you mutter to your best friend who slaps your tit as he childishly mocks you. So you backhand him in the dick making him groan and double over, one hand over his crotch and his other arm hugging the steering wheel he’s leaning his chest against while biting the top of it in pain.

Junhui sniggers at the antics between you and your best friend, as amused as he ever is by you two. While Jeonghan, not for the first time, wonders what kind of circus Junhui found the pair of you in and if they’d take you back.

“So, what’s the deal with this dude?” You ask a few minutes later when Soonyoung parks over three spaces in the hotel parking lot and Junhui cheers at Soonyoung remembering to apply the breaks in time for once.

“He’s an old friend in town for business and wants to sweeten the guy he’s meeting tonight, so he asked me to bring my best.” Jeonghan replies while checking he has everything in his pockets by patting his clothing down thoroughly.

“Aw, Junnie, you’re daddy’s best,” Soonyoung coos, grinning over at Junhui who preens proudly.

“I don’t remember giving you permission to call me daddy, Soonyoung. I said that to her, not you.” The pimp points out as you all get out of the car.

“What’s hers is mine and mine is hers,” your best friend replies airily.

“You’re married?”

“What? Ew, gross, no,” Soonyoung retches and then stumbles when you shove him. He collides with the wall of the hotel making you snort a laugh, until he turns and you notice his glasses are broken and can see his unimpressed glare through the missing section of the lens. “I just got these!” He exclaims, taking off the sunglasses and tosses them into the bushes.

“I’ll get you another pair,”

“Better do. I want Gucci ones,”

“I’ll see what I can do,”

When Jeonghan looks over at the pair of you in the elevator up to the penthouse suite, he has to do a double take at the Gucci sunglasses perched on Soonyoung’s nose. “Where did you get those?” Soonyoung points at you. Jeonghan gives you a flat look. “Well?”

“They were just sitting there,” you shrug.

“Where?”

You stare back at Jeonghan, making your expression innocent knowing how much Jeonghan hates it when you pickpocket people for the fun of it. “Some guy’s head,”

“You stole sunglasses while someone was wearing them?”

“It was really impressive,” Soonyoung nods, entirely missing the point of Jeonghan’s gawping. “Jun’s really good at distracting, they make a good team.”

“You fucking helped?” Jeonghan gawps at Junhui who just smiles sweetly at his pimp. “I’m banning you from hanging out with them.”

“You’re my daddy not my father,” Junhui scoffs.

Jeonghan clearly wants to argue more but the ding echoes in the metal box signalling you’ve arrived at the suite, so he just takes a breath and schools his expression in an impressively short time while the doors open.

Then you four step out into the little lobby before the suite entrance doors and you swear, recognising the suited men standing guard outside of the suite.

“Oh, fuck,” Soonyoung whispers.

“You assholes!” One of the men exclaims, stalking over to flying-kick Soonyoung in the back of his thigh. “You fucking ghosted us!”

“Ow, ow, Kwan, stop it!” Soonyoung cries out, trying to stop Seungkwan’s furious kicks and slaps. “I need my legs to protect my slut!”

“Hey!” Junhui exclaims and slaps Soonyoung too. “I am not yours.”

“Ow, attack her!” Soonyoung tries to shove Seungkwan over to you but he takes one look at you and shrinks back before going back to hitting Soonyoung while hissing that you scare him too much to try to hit.

“Were you part of the gang?” Jeonghan asks, looking at you.

“You could say that,” you murmur and look over to the grand double doors then back to him. “You’re meeting Seungcheol?”

“Yes,”

“We shouldn’t be there, me especially.”

“Do you owe him money?”

“No, nothing like that we just…aren’t on good terms, I guess you could say.”

“Yeah, what happened anyway?” Seungkwan wonders, suddenly at your side and linking his arm with yours. “What’s the gossip?”

“I assume you enjoy having the use of your hands,” you speak, raising an eyebrow at Seungkwan who backs away with his hands held up in surrender. “Good boy.”

“How much issue would it cause to take you in there?” Jeonghan asks, looking between you, Soonyoung, Junhui and his watch then the doors and back again.

“Oh, a shit ton,” Soonyoung answers with a hum. “We moved two hours away for a reason,” he face falls and he looks at you with a sad pout. “Do we have to move again now that they know where we live?”

“No!” Junhui whines, wrapping his arms around you. “You have to stay. You’re my bodyguards! I feel so much safer with you watching over me and I like having you watch too!”

“You can discuss this later, we need to meet Seungcheol before he gets sulky at us for being late,” Jeonghan sighs, tugging Junhui to his side. “You two wait out here. I’ll have to discuss this with Seungcheol to see if he will be against you doing what I fucking pay you for.”

“You pay us?” Soonyoung mutters confusedly while you just nod at Jeonghan in agreement so he and Junhui go into the room. “He pays us?”

It all goes a lot better than you expect. You don’t even need to be in the same room as Seungcheol and, in fact, you don’t even see him until 3 am the next morning when you’re pulling him off of the man he was supposed to be making a business contract with but apparently, Seungcheol found it necessary to beat the shit out of him in the hotel lobby.

“What the fuck are you doing?” You ask once you’ve got Seungcheol outside and around the side of the building. He’s seething, blood smeared over his hands and splattered on his face. “You were supposed to be making an ally and I thought it was going well! What the fuck happened?!”

“You! It’s always fucking you!” Seungcheol turns to you and puts a hand on your upper chest to roughly pin you against the wall. You let him. “It was going well until he fucking- why are you even here? You’re not a bodyguard!”

“Yes I am,” you frown. “I’m here to keep Junhui safe and I’m good at it.”

“Not in the eyes of assholes like that. You’re just more eye candy bastards like him think they can have. “

“Is that why you beat the shit out of him and ruined the past hours of work? Because he said some remarks about me?” You scoff. “I can handle that, Seungcheol, I-” You cut off when his hand is suddenly at your throat. He’s not squeezing or applying any pressure but it’s a solid warning that he could.

You should probably be scared, but you’re not, even if the man looks utterly psychotic with blood smeared over him and wide eyes staring down at you. It’s probably really fucked up how hot you find it.

“Don’t fucking call me that,” he growls, crowding you further against the wall, getting so close that his thick thigh slots between yours and his left forearm leans on the wall above your head. “What’s my name?” You raise your eyebrow. “Well?”

“Seungcheol,” your defiant response has his fingers curling around your throat and starting to cut off your air flow. It just makes your excitement grow and show in the sparkle of your eyes.

“Try that again,�� he warns in a murmur, moving even closer and pressing his thigh up against your crotch. “Go on,”

“Seungcheol,”

“Bitch,” and then he’s kissing you with the same desperation he first kissed you. His hold is firm around your throat and his thigh is already rubbing against you in a way that has you grinding down while gripping his waist in one hand and hip in the other over those fucking trousers that drive you insane. Well, more insane than you already are where Choi Seungcheol is involved.

“Uh,” of course, of fucking course it’s Soonyoung who interrupts you, making you both look at him with matching pissed off expressions. “We should go, that dude is getting taken to the hospital and the hotel is willing to look the other way thanks to Hannie, provided we all leave and you never show your face again here. Hannie and Jun have already gone.”

“She’s coming with me,” Seungcheol informs. “You go.”

“Can’t. Daddy’s banned me from driving,”

“Then fucking walk, Soonyoung.”

“We live so far away,” Soonyoung whines.

“I’m going to break his face if he doesn’t leave right fucking now,” Seungcheol warns as he looks at you.

“Just drive, daddy’s gone,” you point out with a shrug.

“Good point.” Soonyoung nods then turns and walks off just like that without another word or complaint.

You hope he won’t crash on the way home or forget that he’s driving a stolen car meaning that he shouldn’t take it to your shared apartment. But you can never be too sure with Soonyoung. Oh well, he already knows you won’t visit him in jail, just like he wouldn’t you. Your bloodpact never said anything about prison after all.

“This is stupid,” Minghao mutters, glancing over to where Seungcheol has a possessive arm around you in the lift of the hotel they’re staying in for the night, a much less fancy one than the meeting happened in. “You told her to leave and now you’ve fucking glued yourself to her and lost a lucrative deal to defend her honour or some bullshit.”

“Did I ask for your opinion?” Seungcheol retorts, giving Minghao a look that his right hand just rolls his eyes at.

“Whatever, just don’t expect me to walk on eggshells around you anymore. You’re hurting yourself here and you know it.”

“I’m the one who’s going to get choked,” you point out earning a disgusted look from Minghao. “What? I know you’re into choking, don’t look at me like that.”

“How do you know what he’s into?” Seungcheol asks, looking between you.

“How do you not know?” You scoff, looking at Seungcheol as if he’s the weird one.

“Because I’ve never had sex with him,”

“Neither have I.”

“Or watched him have sex,”

“I haven’t…okay once or twice…maybe thrice…” Your expression twists thoughtfully as you try to recall every instance where you’ve watched Minghao have sex, intentionally or not.

“What the fuck?!” Seungcheol glares at Minghao who holds up his hands placatingly.

“She’s a voyeur and I’m an exhibitionist, it just made sense when it happened. She usually walked in anyway. You know she has no sense of personal boundaries and invites herself wherever the fuck she wants to go.”

“You should’ve stopped!”

“You never did,” you point out and push away from the wall when the doors open and let the three of you enter the corridor. “You never stopped when I walked in on you.”

“That’s different.”

“How? Sex is sex.”

“Right.”

“And I’m leaving, quickly,” Minghao informs and all but runs down the hallway ahead of you two to get to his room.

Seungcheol doesn’t say anything until you’re both in his hotel room en suite and he’s leaning back against the sink counter while you clean his split knuckles for him. “Is sex really just sex to you?”

“What else would it be?”

“It means nothing?”

“Is it supposed to?” You raise an eyebrow at him when you lift your head to meet his gaze. He’s got that sad puppy look again that twists your heart painfully. “Don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like…” you sigh and focus back on his hand. “Why did you kiss me, Seungcheol?”

“Because I can’t stop thinking about you and I don’t want you to leave.”

“And that means choking and kissing me?”

“That’s what you want from me, right? Sex? Just meaningless fucking.”

“No,”

“Oh.” You don’t need to be looking at Seungcheol to know his expression has fallen further into depths that would drag painful claws across your pitiful little heart if you witness it. “You don’t want me anymore?”

“I didn’t say that,”

“Then what are you saying? I don’t know how to fucking read you, you know? I need you to talk to me. Every time I try to have an honest fucking conversation with you about this you just stare at me and break my heart without even saying a word, at least have the fucking balls to do it verbally this time.”

“I don’t want to hurt you, it hurts me too, seeing you with that fucking kicked puppy dog look.” You give up cleaning his hand and toss the blood stained cloth into the sink to step back with your hands on your hips. “And I don’t say anything because I don’t know what to say. I’m fucking…emotionally incompetent!”

“What?”

“I don’t know, that’s what Soonyoung called me when I explained all this to him.”

“Emotionally incompetent?” You nod. “Why did he call you that? I mean, he’s probably right but he’s usually the first to defend you, so for him to call you that means you fucked up.”

“I hurt you, of course I fucked up.”

“Not returning my feelings doesn’t mean-”

“Cheol,” he immediately cuts off, eyes rounding out at the nickname you haven’t called him in so long. Granted, you haven’t seen him to call him anything in so long but the point still stands. “When did I actually say I don’t have feelings for you?”

“You said we’re not even friends.”

“We’re not, we might’ve been at one point years ago but…I can’t think of you like that. You…” you sigh and drop your arms to your sides. “You mean too much to me. I don’t know how to put any of it into words and I was too shocked that day at the warehouse to say anything. And then you got pissed off and threw shit at me and I just didn’t know how to navigate that. It was a lot.”

“You didn’t even show your face after,” he pretty much whispers, hands gripping the counter either side of his hips to try and ground himself. It reminds you of the day in his kitchen, the last day you saw him, when he was holding the island so tightly to stop himself from reaching for you. “You could’ve come to me and explained and then we could’ve…things would be different.”

“I thought giving you space would be best. I didn’t want to make you worse. I thought that space would help but Hao found me and said you were denying my fucking existance and planning to fuck a mark and obviously you weren’t any better with the space.”

“I was a fucking wreck. I can’t do this, I can’t not have you there turning up to make remarks about my thighs or ass or whatever. I need you there by my side so come back, please.”

“Just like that? I come back and things go back to how they were?”

“No. You come back and we figure out what works for us.”

“Sex works great, that was good.”

He chuckles and nods a little in agreement. “It was and I’d really fucking love to do that more, I’m sure you’ve probably got an endless list of fucked up shit you want to do to me.”

“Oh, hell yeah I do,” you confirm, eyes widening as you think of your endless fantasies involving the man in front of you. “How do you feel about taxidermy?”

“We’re not involving taxidermy into our sex life, no fucking way,” he replies firmly. “That’s a hard fucking no, you keep that in your freaky head.”

“Noted. What about anal?”

“You went from taxidermy to anal how exactly?”

“Stuffing,”

Seungcheol tries not to laugh but breaks into an amused smile and motions for you to get closer. “You’re seriously insane, aren’t you?”

“Yes, we discovered this years ago, Cheolie,”

“Mm,” he slides his hands onto your hips as he smiles at you in a soft kind of way that makes your heart race.

“Cheol?” He hums. “Is…I’m pretty sure I’ve been in love with you for years.”

Seungcheol’s eyes widen in surprise before they soften back out and he takes a gentle hold of your face and presses a sweet, lingering kiss to your lips. “I love you too,”

“Oh, really?” He nods and you grin happily at him. “That’s cool. We should get married or something.”

“Fucking hell, you can’t just spring that on me,” he groans, hiding his blushing face into your neck as his arms wind around your waist to hold you close.

“But we’re in love, we love each other, why should we wait?” You’re genuinely confused and it makes him chuckle a little. “I’m serious, Cheol! Why should we wait to get married if that’s what’s going to happen anyway?”

“Alright, baby, let’s get married,” he agrees, straightening up, beaming at you so happily that you can’t help but smile back at him. “We’ll start arranging it as soon as we’re home, hm? But for now-”

“Sex, lots of sex,” you finish for him.

“I was going to say let’s sleep but you’re right, who even needs sleep?” He hoists you up with a cheeky grin while you giggle and wrap your arms and legs around him to make it easier for him to take you into the bedroom.

“You didn’t answer me about anal,”

“I don’t have anal lube, babe,” he chuckles, laying you down onto the bed and climbing between your thighs while removing his shirt.

“I don’t have a dildo or strap either,” you pout at the reminder.

“Wait, you meant my ass?”

“Yeah, I really want to fuck your ass, it’s made to be fucked.”

“Uh, I’ll consider it.”

“Okay.” You reach out to pull him back down and slot your lips together shortly. “Now, you owe me,”

“What, why?”

“You said you were going to fuck me until I can’t walk and that never happened.”

“Because you let me think you don’t want me for more than just sex!”

“All I’m hearing is excuses and not enough action to put your cock in me,”

“Yeah yeah, get naked.” He slaps your thigh a few times in encouragement while leaning back on his knees to unbuckle his belt.

You make zero effort to move at all, except to prop yourself up on your elbows and watch intently as he slowly unbuttons his belt.

“Are you seriously just going to watch me strip?” He asks while teasingly dragging his fingers along his skin along the edge of his waistband with a cocky smirk once his belt is open.

“Dance for me, pretty boy,”

Seungcheol puts his hands on his hips and waits until you’ve dragged your gaze up from staring at the outline of his cock, over his bare torso and to his face. He’s raising an eyebrow at you. “Did you just call me pretty boy?”

“Yes,”

“Fucking crazy,” he huffs a short laugh.

“Hey!” You lean up just enough to slap his thigh scoldingly then sit up so that you can grope at his thighs with both hands while he just watches with an amused, fond little smile at your utterly shameless actions. “You are pretty, my pretty boy,”

“Mm, I can accept that,” he agrees, holding your jaw with one hand firmly to tilt you up as he leans in to brush his lips over yours teasingly. “So long as I’m your pretty boy, I don’t mind being called that. So long as I’m yours, you can call me anything.”

“Okay, sugarplum.” You cackle at the world-weary sigh that Seungcheol lets out against your lips before he leans back to look at you unimpressed. “What’s the matter, pookie?”

“Why did you have to ruin the mood?”

“I ruined the mood?” You smirk and slide one hand up his thigh to grip his cock firmly, making him hiss through his teeth at the sudden, tight pressure. “Feels like you’re still in the mood to me, pretty boy.”

“I really must be insane,”

“We match well then, huh?”

“Mm,” he leans down to kiss you shortly. “Good thing we’re never having kids, they’d be sectioned before they reach adulthood.”

“Our neighbours would hate us,”

“They would,” he chuckles. “We’ll find somewhere new to live together once we’re married, away from noisy ass neighbours, and with a garden so I can fuck you outside and see how gorgeous you’ll look with the sun shining on you when you’re covered in my cum.”

“There’s a park down the road,”

“No,” he scoffs and shoves you back to make you lay down before his hands move to roughly yank his belt free. “You’re mine, I’m not letting anyone else see you like that.”

“Even knowing they can look but not touch?”

“Maybe once I’ve covered you in marks and made up for the past five years of not being able to fuck you.”

“Sounds like a party,” you grin, and then wiggle excitedly as he taps the folded middle of his leather belt against your inner thigh. “That’d leave pretty marks.”

“Mm, it would, you need to be naked for that though, baby,”

“You need to dance for me first,” you remind matter-of-factly before lacing your fingers together behind your head comfortably.

“You really want me to dance for you?”

“I’ve dreamed about you giving me a strip tease, don’t kill my boner, Cheolie.”

“You’re going to kill my boner if you keep saying shit like this.”

“Guess we need to invest in some gags,”

“Guess we do,” he murmurs and licks his lips automatically at the thought of your lips stretched around a gag and drool running down your chin as you moan for him. “I’ll give you a strip tease another day, I need to fuck you too much.”

“Promise?”

“I promise, baby,”

“Okay.” You sit up and get to work, quickly stripping off your clothes so Seungcheol climbs off of the bed to force his fitted trousers off of his body along with his boxers.

When he kneels back on the bed naked, he finds you already laid there utterly nude with legs spread in wait for him to join you.

“How the fuck did you strip so fast?” He gawps, running his hands reverently over your thighs as he settles between them on his knees.

“Years of practise,”

“Stripping?”

“Had to be prepared for the day you give in to my seduction.”

“Well…good job,” he leans down over you, hands propping himself on the mattress so that he can kiss you.

“Thank you,” you preen and run your hands up his sides to take the chance to touch as much of his strong torso as you can for the first time. You can’t fucking wait to spend the rest of your life touching him up. It’s going to be great. “Now, cock please,”

Seungcheol chokes on a short laugh at your words. “Good use of manners, sweetheart,”

“I thought so too. Definitely deserves a reward,”

“Mm,” he shuffles down a little so that he can wrap his full lips around your left nipple and suck harshly, intent on starting his plan to cover you in hickies and hand prints to mark his property.

“That’ll work,” you mutter, lacing fingers in his hair to encourage his mouth against your breast. “Not cock but it’ll do for now.”

“Shut up,” he laughs against your skin.

“Make me,”

“Brat,”

“You like it,”

“I do,” he sighs before moving one hand over your chest and throat until he can press against your parted lips. There’s no resistance at all, your jaw dropping enough to allow his middle and ring finger to slide into your mouth. “Good fucking girl,” Seungcheol praises in a low, rough voice as you instantly start to suck at his fingers, swirling your tongue around and between them with happy little moans.

Seungcheol keeps his mouth against your body, sucking and biting violent looking marks into your skin until he’s satisfied with his artwork. He moves down, dragging the fingers from your mouth as he does, smearing your own saliva in a trail all the way until he’s laid on his stomach between your thighs and attaching his mouth to your clit in the same moment he pushes those two wet fingers into you.

“Cheol,” you breathe out, pushing down against his fingers so that he doesn’t even dare think of waiting. He hums against your clit, making your thighs tighten momentarily before he starts to work his fingers in rapid movements that make your eyes flutter and fingers grip at him.

As your nails drag over his shoulder lightly, Seungcheol moans and arches up towards your hand, urging you on, encouraging you to grasp at him. Dig your nails in until he hisses and fucks his fingers into you harder and faster.

“H-how much can you take?” He asks, leaning up on his free hand, mouth and chin smeared with your arousal.

“Anything,” you promise, feeling as desperate as the wild darkness in his eyes tells you he feels.

Seungcheol nods and pulls his fingers from you as he moves up onto his knees. He doesn’t even ask you to move, just grabs you and manhandles you onto your front, chest against the mattress and hips up just enough to give him a better angle to begin sliding his thick cock into you.

Maybe you hadn’t been quite as ready as you could’ve been. As you perhaps should’ve been. It’s been a while since you put anything but your fingers in your pussy for a quick session since moving away from the city.

Living with your nosey ass best friend doesn’t give you the freedom to get your toys out as he seems to have the uncanny ability of popping up and making a big deal out of it. Lots of screaming and acting like he’s been visually assaulted. You do the same to him. Your relationship is full of a lot of love and mutual, mature respect, clearly.

It’s a tight fit and Seungcheol grips your hips tight as he painstakingly splits you open with his mouth parted and eyebrows furrowed as if in pain. Not that you can see. Or have the mental capacity to do anything but grip the pillow and almost suffocate yourself in it with the way you press your open mouth against the material.

“Shit, you’re so fucking tight,” he pants when he stops before he’s even buried his entire length in you. “Baby, I don’t-I don’t know if this is a good idea, fuck,”

“Don’t you fucking dare,” you warn, turning your head to glare over your shoulder at him while reaching back to grab his ass and stop him from pulling out like he starts to.

“I don’t want to hurt you,”

“Then I’ll do it,” you huff and push yourself up onto your hands. Admittedly, shaky hands but you’re too focused on your task to care. Too stubborn and desperate to get obliterated by his cock.

“Babe-”

“Shut the fuck up, Choi Seungchol,” you demand, pushing yourself back harsh enough that he flails and drops down onto his haunches as he swears, hands still gripping you though. His mouth says one thing and his body another.

It’s a task getting your body upright until you’re on your knees, hands free to hold onto his forearm and thigh but when you do, you only take a moment to stop the spinning of your mind before you start to bounce on his cock.

“Fuck,” he groans, spreading his thighs a little wider and rolling his hips in time with your bouncing. He’s not thrusting but his minute movements help to open you up a little more with every slap of your skin against his.

This position isn’t very practical for you, not with Seungcheol. Not when it makes his cock feel even bigger than it actually is and your whole body trembles as it presses and drags against your walls in ways that feel like utter sin. You’re dripping all over him, ruining the bed and you don’t even care. Neither does he.

“Your turn,” you murmur, falling still on his lap as you lean back against his chest to catch your breath at least a little and give your burning thighs a break. It’s a lot more work to ride him like that than you expected. You’ll have to take up a new workout routine so that you can do it for longer next time. You’re determined.

Seungcheol takes the moment of calm stillness to brush his lips over your shoulder and let his hands explore over your chest and spread-thighs.

One of his hands trails between your legs to feel at where your pussy is spread around his cock. He makes a low, pleased sound before abruptly rubbing quick harsh circles over your clit. You shriek in surprise, body tensing at the sudden attack and nails digging into the skin of his thighs under your own.

“You gotta cum first,” he informs, stopping his circles for only a second to bring his hand back then down, landing a firm slap to your clit and making your body jerk as you moan brokenly. “That’s my dirty girl, fucking knew you’d like this,” his tone is nothing but aroused and approving as he slaps your clit again while holding you in place with his other arm wrapped securely around your waist with his hand on your chest. “You’re gonna cum like this, understand?”

“Cheol-”

“I said, do you understand?” Another slap, this one harsher in a toe-curling way, before he drags his palm and fingers over your clit in a way that could be considered almost soothing if he wasn’t pressing as firmly as he is.

“Fuck, y-yeah. Don’t stop.” You agree, nodding where your head is tilted back against his shoulder. “But,”

“What?” You don’t answer verbally and instead grip his left wrist to pull his hand up from your chest and to your throat. “I fucking love you,” he declares before squeezing your throat at the same time as he sucks on the side of your neck to create a new claim, his right hand moving to slap your clit in rapid succession.

It’s only a few seconds of the combination, the intense pleasure from all melding together and sending a sharp orgasm through your body. Your body moves naturally as if trying to fight it and get away as you gasp for air you can’t get yet. Your nails drag deep red marks over his skin that only encourages him to fuck up into your convulsing walls.

“Good, good,” he breathes against your neck and drops his palm from your throat back to your chest, both so that you can breathe clearly and so that he can hold you to him. He doesn’t stop playing with your clit though, his hips humping up into you and barely moving his cock but it’s still almost too much stimulation.

The first orgasm is barely even over before another rocks through your body.

This time, Seungcheol removes his hand from your clit, giving you some respite and murmurs praise against your shoulder the entire time it takes you to come down from the combination of both climaxes.

“You okay?” He asks gently when you turn your head to blink your eyes open and peer at him. You hum and nod, giving him a dopey, sated smile that makes him laugh. “Can you take more?”

“Whatever you’ve got,” comes your confident response.

“That’s my girl,” he smirks, looking nothing but proud of you and your pussy for being able to handle his thick cock. You’d puff like a peacock if, you know, you weren’t human.

Seungcheol takes a moment to just kiss you, lips and tongue meeting languidly as best as you both can considering the angle. You personally think it works very well and you’d give you both top marks.

And then he pushes you down against the mattress, one hand on the back of your neck to keep your cheek smushed against the pillow and his other hand holding your hip firmly to fuck into you in a brutal manner.

The headboard knocks harshly against the wall with every powerful stroke of his hips. The back of your thighs and ass are already starting to sting with the strength of his thrusts. His fingers bruise marks into your hip and neck as he hold you securely in place and forces you to just fucking take it.

And you’re in heaven.

If you weren’t in love with the man before, you sure as fuck are now.

Nobody has ever fucked you like this. Nobody has handled you so well in every way. And you just know with everything in you that nobody else ever will.

You’re definitely gonna marry the fuck out of Choi Seungcheol.

It doesn’t last much longer really, not that you can really blame Seungcheol considering he sat there and felt your pussy squeeze and cream over his cock twice already; and now he’s battering your walls so perfectly in a way that borders on pain in the most delicious of ways so you’re squeezing him all over again in minutes and almost screaming into the pillow as he forces another strong climax from your body.

You don’t even have the mental clarity to realise he’s stopped, his hips juddering against you as he cums as deep in you as possible with a string of low, rough moans with your name sprinkled in.

“Oh, fuck,” you grunt when he lowers your hips to the mattress without pulling out just so that he can almost flatten you under his own body weight. You know he’s not entirely laid on you, you can feel the bulge of his biceps against your upper arms as he holds himself up just enough to not squish you.

“Shut up, you said you can take anything I give you,” he reminds in between pressing sweet, lingering kisses to your neck.

“Meant your giant cock, not giant ass.”

“You love my giant ass.”

“Mm. So, can I peg you?”

“Can’t we just enjoy the post-sex bliss without you ruining it?”

“No.” You wiggle your ass making him groan and then bite your shoulder in retaliation.

“Don’t get me hard again, I’ll pass out if we go again before I sleep.”

“That’s not a problem, unless you squish me, or go soft.”

“Are you implying you’d carry on fucking even if I pass out?”

“What? Because you wimp out, I have to suffer?” You scoff and wiggle again. “Got a problem with me using your body when you’re unconscious?”

Seungcheol is silent for a moment in thought. “Just don’t stick anything in my ass.”

“Mm, I can accept that. I want you to be awake when I ruin you anyway.”

“I really don’t know what I’ve got myself into with you, do I?”

“Nope.” You grin over your shoulder at him. “You said you’ll marry me, you’re stuck with me forever.”

“I think I’m okay with that,” there’s a smile on his face as he moves off of you so that he can turn you enough to comfortably kiss you in a way that feels something like a promise.

A promise to be okay with your endless depravities. A promise to marry you as soon as possible and buy a house together. A promise to spend the rest of his life loving you, his utterly bat-shit crazy troublemaker.

Don’t forget to reblog if you liked to help spread the story and let others read it too! And don't be shy to leave comments or send an ask so I can see your thoughts 🥺 💖

Permanent taglist: @okiedokrie @variety-is-the-joy-of-life

901 notes · View notes

avatar-anna · 2 years ago

Text

Unknown Number

someone made a request about reader accidentally being given harry's number, but i accidentally deleted it, so if you requested it, here it is!

(the text chain will be from harry's point of view)

italics: y/n (unknown number)

bold: harry

Part Two

Part Three

Unknown Number (UN): heyy. i had a really good time the other night. maybe we could do it again sometime? xx (click to download image)

Harry Styles (HS): How did you get this number?

UN: you gave it to me?

UN: last night at the pub? marcus, right?

HS: No. You have the wrong number.

UN: is this a joke? are you fucking with me right now?

HS: No.

UN: oh my god

UN: i feel like such an idiot

UN: one of the first times a guy gives me his number at a bar and he gives me the wrong number

UN: probably on purpose too

UN: i should've known when he left his OWN APARTMENT the next morning but i was actually hopeful

UN: and now i've made an ass of myself here too. sorry to bother you i'll leave you alone. sorry again

(one hour later)

HS: It's okay. Sorry about that guy. Sounds like a jerk.

(twenty minutes later)

UN: it's fine, i guess

UN: i wasn't in love with him or anything but he could've had the decency of expressing his disinterest himself instead of hiding behind a fake number.

HS: That is quite a dick move.

HS: I'm not gonna lie, I wasn't expecting that text. I didn't open the picture either by the way.

UN: thank you. for a moment i was worried i was messaging a creep, but hopefully you're not a creep

UN: i mean you could be still and i'd have no idea

UN: maybe i should stop texting you

(ten minutes later)

HS: I'm not a creep.

UN: that's exactly what a creep would say

HS: I don't really know how to prove it to you. You're the one who sent me a photo of yourself half naked. You could be the creep.

UN: you said you didn't open it!

HS: I was trying to be polite!

UN: great now some 40 year old living in his parents basement has one of my nudes

HS: I'm not 40! And I don't live in my parents basement

UN: you text like an old man

HS: wuld u rather i txt like ths???

UN: no but i'm just saying i don't know many people my age who use proper punctuation in text messages

HS: Well I might not be your age, but I'm certainly not 40

UN: "certainly not." you're right. you sound like my grandpa

HS: I suddenly regret restarting a conversation with you

UN: you know despite the fact that you might be catfishing me, i've enjoyed this. i feel like i'm doing what all the other teen girls did in high school at sleepovers

HS: So you're out of high school.

UN: creep!

HS: You outed yourself, that's not on me.

UN: you...might be right

UN: can you tell me something about yourself to make it even? there's always a possibility that you could be lying and i have no reason to trust you, but...idk i feel like i can

HS: Well that's stupid.

HS: But I suppose since I've already seen you partially naked...

UN: i'm blocking your number

HS: My first name is H, and I'm 20 years old.

UN: h? just the letter h?

HS: You could be a creep too for all I know

UN: fair enough. i'm june

HS: Full name? Wow, you really are a dummy.

UN: don't get your 60 year old panties in a twist. it's a nickname

HS: June is a nickname?

HS: And I'm not 60.

UN: june. june bug. that's what the folks call me

HS: Folks? Now who sounds old?

UN: whatever

(thirty minutes later)

HS: Well, it was nice talking to you, June. June bug.

UN: you too h

(three days later)

June (J): you're a guy right?

HS: I'm sorry?

J: well when i first texted you i thought you were a guy, but you weren't THAT guy, so i have no idea

J: i just assumed but i thought i would ask

J: plus i need solicited guy advice and if you're not a creep i would really appreciate it

HS: We're back to me being a creep?

J: it's a risk every time i text you

J: so? are you a dude?

HS: Yes.

J: great! can i ask you something?

HS: Um...I guess...

J: ok. would you ever get offended if a woman covered their drink during a conversation with you?

HS: I'm not following...

J: like say we're at a bar and we're talking and i turn my head away for some reason but i put my hand over my drink until i look back at you to prevent it from being spiked. would you be offended by that?

HS: No. Why?

J: see? i don't think that's unreasonable. some loser got mad at me for doing that. well EXCUSE ME for not immediately trusting the guy i matched with on tinder

J: who was not as cute in real life i might add

HS: You don't have the best taste in guys.

J: that is not advice!

HS: Okay, here's my advice: don't swipe right on guys who have mirror selfies in their profile.

J: ...

J: ok fair enough but it's not like prince charmings are falling from the sky. it's hard out here

HS: I'm sure.

J: what you don't have the same problem?

HS: I don't really date.

J: in like a douchey way? are you one of those guys who say they just fuck?

HS: I just don't have time for dating, I guess.

J: so no special someone?

HS: No.

(four hours later)

HS: If you asked for advice, does that mean I can too?

(one hour later)

J: sorry i was at work

J: and i don't see why not

HS: What do you think about guys who wear skinny jeans?

J: hm...i think styled right it could be nice

J: YSL is kind of pushing the whole skinny jeans and chelsea boots thing which might eventually trickle down to the losers i match with on tinder so...why not? i say dress how you want

J: any guy who has a good sense of style is sexy to me

J: sorry if that wasn't the answer you were looking for

HS: Yes and no. I've been experimenting with different styles. Sometimes I get a little in my head about it.

J: doesn't everyone?

HS: I guess you're right.

HS: Do you follow fashion shows and things like that?

HS: That's not too personal, is it?

J: no, but it's kind of embarrassing

HS: Not as embarrassing as sending a complete stranger a picture of yourself in your bra

J: harsh...but fair

J: fashion is kind of my religion

J: i'm trying to become a stylist. keyword trying

HS: That's cool!

J: tell that to my family

HS: they don't support you?

J: nope! but i'm gonna do it anyway!

HS: Do you have a favorite designer?

J: it kinda depends on the year and who was creative director at the time, but the first time i got my hands on vintage vivienne westwood i was hooked

J: you?

HS: I'm just starting to explore the fashion world I guess you could say.

J: well lucky for you i happen to be a bit of an encyclopedia when it comes to house codes

HS: House codes?

J: oh boy. i hope you're comfortable. we might be here a while

(two days later)

HS: Have you ever had rumors spread about you?

J: i don't think so

J: oh wait! in eighth grade this girl in my class told everyone i made out with a boy at the school dance which was NOT true

J: it was just a peck

HS: Naughty.

J: it was harmless. why do you ask?

HS: There's a rumor going around about me. It's just frustrating when people actually believe it. sometimes it gets to the point where i start to believe it myself.

J: i'm sorry. i won't pry or anything, but i know what it feels like to not be understood

HS: I just hate the feeling of being under a microscope. It's exhausting. I feel like my life isn't my own sometimes.

J: that sucks

J: sorry that was in no way helpful, but i don't really know what to say. is there someone you can talk to about this?

HS: ...

J: oh! i actually feel kind of honored

J: well, obviously i don't know the whole situation, but maybe try and surround yourself with people who don't scrutinize you so much?

HS: Easier said than done.

J: true but i think if you have a solid group of people who know you and understand you and like you for who you are, it's easier to deal with things like rumors and being under the proverbial microscope, you know?

J: and don't be afraid to get rid of the toxic people in your life! it's not easy but you'll be better off in the long run

HS: sometimes it's hard to tell who's toxic and who's not

J: start with the people who would never believe a rumor about you, or the ones who would never START one about you

HS: Well said, June Bug.

J: thanks! maybe i should entertain a career in counseling

(one month later)

HS: Why June Bug?

J: i was born in the summer. it was a nickname my grandparents gave me. been called that ever since

HS: That's sweet.

J: there are worse nicknames i suppose. i have a cousin that got stuck with chip because he used to stuff his face like a chipmunk when he was little

HS: Yikes.

J: you're telling me

(three weeks later)

J: have you ever danced alone in your bedroom to stevie nicks?

HS: Have you?

J: i have, and can i just say she does NOT get enough credit as a songwriter?

HS: Edge of Seventeen?

J: edge of seventeen

J: i went on a date last week with a guy who had the AUDACITY to call her music mediocre

HS: You didn't see him again did you?

J: ...

HS: June!

J: just once! and only because he had really nice hands

HS: I don't get how that would make you stay with a stevie hater...

J: REALLY nice hands ;)

HS: You disappoint me sometimes.

J: ;))))

(fifteen minutes later)

J: hey you never answered my question about dancing in your room!

HS: ...No comment...

(one week later)

J: you ever been in love, h?

HS: I can't say that I have. Have you?

J: no ://

J: i think i want it too much. i've always just been in love with the idea of falling in love, you know?

J: but the reality isn't what i thought it would be

HS: I'm sorry.

HS: It probably won't help but I'm sure you'll find someone. You seem like a great person. Anyone would be lucky to be with you.

J: aw h you're making me blush!

HS: But perhaps you should stop looking for love on a hookup app

J: annnd good feeling gone

(two weeks later)

HS: Guess who has two thumbs and got invited to Paris Fashion Week!

J: no fair!

J: and that joke doesn't work if i can't see you point to yourself. it doesn't work period

HS: I will let that slide because I know you're just jealous.

J: are you kidding me? OF COURSE i'm jealous! i can't believe you get to see Alessandro Michele's work up close

HS: Who?

J: don't think because we only communicate through text that i can't strangle you

HS: Relax. I'm only joking.

HS: Alessandro is a friend ;))

(ten minutes later)

J: sorry i just had to scream into my pillow

J: what exactly do you do again?

HS: I told you. I work in the industry.

J: but that could mean anything! the cosmetics industry, the movie industry, the meat packing industry...

HS: Meat packing?

J: you know what i mean!

HS: I do a lot of PR.

J: see. that wasn't so hard now was it?

HS: Can I go back to gloating?

J: only if you promise to give me a full report afterwards you go to all the shows

HS: Deal.

(four days later)

HS: Favorite movie?

J: that's hard...

J: it's probably cliche but the devil wears prada

HS: Good choice.

J: what about you?

HS: The Notebook.

J: really?

HS: Yes. Why?

J: do you say that to impress girls or because it's actually your favorite?

HS: Would you rather I have said a film with lots of car chases?

J: no

J: but i went out with a guy who was a film major once

HS: Is that a bad thing?

J: let's just say it won't be happening again

J: he thought he was superior for disliking popular movies. i hate that

HS: Well, I love The Notebook and I love Ryan Gosling

J: now THAT is something we can agree on!

(six weeks later)

J: BIG NEWS

J: LIKE HUGE

J: GROUNDBREAKING

HS: And here I was thinking you forgot about me.

J: i texted you yesterday

HS: You asked me if my dick could move on its own.

J: a legitimate question! i nearly had a heart attack when i saw it in person

J: but i was also weirdly fascinated. my question was purely scientific!

HS: You said you had news?

J: right!

(twenty minutes later)

HS: Are you making me wait to create anticipation?

J: no sorry i got a phone call.

J: i got my first real gig as a stylist

HS: That's great! Congratulations!

J: thanks

HS: You don't sound excited anymore. What happened to all caps?

J: my mother happened

HS: Still not on board, then?

J: she told me it was a waste of time and that i should get a real job

HS: You're still gonna take it though right?

J: i don't know. maybe she's right. the pay is less than ideal. more like i'm being paid in experience, and it's not the clientele i was imagining...

HS: But it's a foot in the door, right? That's something.

J: i guess

HS: Make connections. Get good references. And who knows, you might actually enjoy yourself.

J: you're right.

J: it's for some up and coming band that's going on tour. pretty sure i was what they could afford

HS: Don't sell yourself short. You're gonna do great.

J: thanks. i hardly even know you and you're currently my biggest supporter

HS: What happened to Bill?

J: ancient history

HS: What was wrong with him? He seemed nice.

J: yeah

J: his girlfriend thought so too.

HS: On behalf of all men: Sorry. We truly are the worst.

J: agreed. what about you? still single?

HS: Yes, though people keep trying to set me up on dates.

J: the horror!

HS: Ha ha

HS: I just want to meet someone on my own terms.

J: i get that

J: i just want to meet someone who's actually a decent human being

HS: I'll be on the lookout.

(three weeks later)

J: i think i've decided that tour life is not for me

HS: oh?

J: yeah. sitting on a bus for hours and hours with only myself to keep me company? no thanks

HS: it can't just be you on the bus can it?

J: no but i have a hard time making friends right away. and a lot of the crew for this tour are older than me

HS: are your clients nice at least?

J: yeah. one of them tried to hit on me, which i guess i should take as a compliment, but i am on the clock. no flirting for me

HS: a professional then. or are you not into the musician type?

J: not sure. i haven't dated one before

J: i told you that the other day

HS: right. must've slipped my mind

HS: but back to taste in men. is it all about looks for you or do you like funny guys?

HS: are you the type to sleep with someone on the first date? because i feel like that's very telling about a girl

J: who is this?

HS: what do you mean? it's me

J: it's not. you're not texting like a middle aged woman and you're acting like a total ass

HS: Sorry. I thought I'd try something new. And I was just curious. Can't blame a guy for asking right? You did send some guy you barely knew a picture of yourself

HS: It was very wholesome by the way. Maybe try a little more skin next time and you'll get the response you want. You can practice here if you'd like.

J: oh my god

HS: What?

J: this was a mistake. i'm such an IDIOT

J: was this some kind of prank?

J: whoever you are, you're sick

J: don't text me again

HS: June, I'm so sorry. That was my friend he was just being stupid.

HS: Last time I leave my phone anywhere.

HS: June?

HS: June please.

HS: That wasn't me I swear!

HS: I'm sorry.

(three weeks later)

HS: Day 21 of trying to get you to respond.

HS You probably blocked me which is fine. I don't blame you.

HS: But if you DO happen to read these and are just ignoring me...

HS: I'm sorry. Again. For like the millionth time.

J is typing...

HS: June?

J: i should've blocked you

HS: Why didn't you?

J: because as insane as it sounds, you've become a close friend

HS: I feel the same. I'm really sorry about before. I swear it was one of my mates. I would never say something like that.

J: that's what makes this whole thing crazy! i don't actually know you, so how do i know if i can trust you?

HS: I mean you even noticed that he wasn't texting like me. I would never ask you questions like that, June. I never have.

HS: And I do NOT text like a middle aged woman by the way

J: i guess that's true

J: i think it just doubled down the fact that we don't actually know each other. this whole thing is ridiculous if you think about it too long. it gives me a headache sometimes.

J: i know we've joked about it but...this could be potentially dangerous

HS is typing...

HS: I could send you a voice note.

J: you would do that?

HS: You're right. This whole thing is ridiculous but...I don't know, I trust you, and I consider you a friend.

J: a friend you say?

HS: That's all I'm willing to admit for one day

J: and what about tomorrow?

HS is typing...

HS (voice recording): Maybe tomorrow I'll admit a little more.

(one day later)

Y/n hated how much her stomach flipped every time her phone pinged with a new message.

It was so reckless and dangerous and utterly ridiculous. She didn't know who H was, she didn't even know what time zone he lived in, and yet she felt like she knew him.

And after hearing his deep voice—deep British voice—on the voice recording, Y/n determined that he wasn't some creep in his forties like she'd originally thought.

Since sending that voice recording, they'd sent each other messages like that all night. And by all night she meant all night. They stayed up late sending voice recordings back and forth. It was the longest conversation they'd held to date, which was surprising considering that they often missed each other during certain hours. Just based on what hours of the day they texted the most, Y/n figured H lived somewhere in Europe, which gave her peace of mind considering he couldn't exactly kidnap her if he was a whole ocean away. But the last couple weeks their schedules seemed to be lining up, though Y/n chalked it up to all the traveling she'd been doing lately.

One thing she was certain of was that she adored H's voice. It was soft and deep, but got raspier the longer they spoke. And at times he would whisper in his messages, like he had to keep his voice down. The hushed tones made her shiver.

Y/n didn't call H, and he never offered. But she wanted to, boy did she want to. No matter how terrifying that thought was. A full-fledged phone call seemed more...real to Y/n. With the messages, she and H were still in their little bubble. It was stupid, but she needed that bit of separation. She was becoming attached to someone she'd never met.

Walking through the halls of a stadium in Canada, Y/n pulled up past conversations with H. It was too embarrassing to admit to anyone out loud, but she felt like she really knew him. He was endearing, had a silly sense of humor, had good taste in music, and was honest. Well, as honest as either of them could be. Outside of the one slip up with H's friend, Y/n believed what he said to her over text. Maybe that made her naive, but their conversations were legit. He felt like a friend, and she knew he felt similarly.

Maybe tomorrow I'll admit a little more.

Y/n had no idea what that could mean. She of course knew what she wanted it to mean, but what she wanted rarely ever lined up with reality.

Y/n looked up from her phone to make sure she didn't pass the right door. The one in front of her read, Harry Styles in big bold lettering. She quickly hurried past and continued down the hall to where the dressing room for Five Seconds of Summer was.

Harry Styles was a bit of an enigma. Even though she was on the same tour as him and One Direction, Y/n hardly ever saw him. And when she did, his nose was always in his phone, completely closed off to the world around him. He just had this vibe that said, "don't talk to me," and Y/n received that message loud and clear. The Five Seconds of Summer boys seemed to get on with all the members of One Direction, but Y/n usually made herself scarce whenever they came by the dressing room, for no other reason than too much testosterone in one room.

"You want to come out after the show, Harry?" Y/n heard one of the boys ask. Michael.

"Um...No. I think I'll have to pass tonight, boys. Sorry."

"What? Big date tonight?"

"Something like that."

Y/n felt frozen to the linoleum floor. She knew that voice. She'd spent all night listening to that voice.

"Holy shit."

#harry styles #harry styles blurb #harry styles x reader #harry styles fanfic #harry styles oneshot #harry styles imagine #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x you #harry styles fluff #harry styles writing #harry styles one shot #harry styles fic

3K notes · View notes

hg-aneh · 1 year ago

Note

will you ever come back, or is this an indefinite hiatus/straight up dipping?

i don't know

all the i miss yous are making me want to come back but ik i would just be terrified and motionless as soon as i do

Vent-ish Rant downstairs

CW: Pedophilia, Antisemitism, Suicide, Ableism, Harassment, Bullying, all the important words except for murder basically

i want to fix things in private with the people who hurt me so things can be okay and I don't out them for being wieners

but i also want everyone to know who hurt me, yet I'm aware it's not the right choice to make. social media outrage barely leads to anything, specially where minors are concerned

hell,now that i think about it, considering the fact that they genuinely don't believe people older than them are allowed to have feelings, I don't even think talking would be the right move

it's scary, its fucking scary

fuck. the whole thing started with a person mocking the way i spoke about crowley telling me to stop babying him because i was a legal adult and shouldn't be speaking like that

i had just turned 18 and the person was only a year younger than me

like when it's gone to that point and shit is that fucked up, what can one person even do

i remember i laughed about it back then but truth be told, every single little thing I've been told and that I've listened to coming from the people who hurt me has fucking destroyed me as a person

I looked at my older Discord messages, from before this whole mess started. I was so fucking happy and shameless with my joy, now look at my sorry ass

i just.

it's crazy that i have to go around masking in social media of all places because there are people that take such offense to me being cringe that they legitimately turn into high school mean girls

it's crazy that there are people who claim I'm something i am not because they want to make me look bad in the eyes of their little circlejerking friend groups so they can feel like the hero of the story

it's crazy that empathy goes completely out of the window when an account is big, that people don't see human beings as human beings when they're behind a screen

"just log off lol" i am a lonely shut in motherfucker due to my autism (that, surprise surprise, hinders my ability to socialize), you do not understand what you're asking of me, specially while being in this country and at this point in time where I'm actively craving to kick the metaphorical bucket, at daily risk of doing so, and what basically is house arrest for my own safety and well being

(aka, avoiding to physically yeet myself into upcoming traffic or buying something to actually seal the deal)

thus far I've been accused of antisemitism, pedophilia, being too self-centered (which. bro, the reason why i talk about myself is because it's the one thing i can comment on without being scared of some random person coming to tell me "NuH uH" about it out of nowhere or worse, having their feelings hurt because I don't agree with them 100%), proshipper (which, to those people, the word implies wonderful labels such as "incest apologist" "pedophile" (again) "abuse endorser" among other things) ((sidenote, I'm on neither side on that particular discourse. my friends from both sides know this. I would elaborate on my stance if this wasn't already long enough, but it is, so I'm leaving it at an "I don't care, you do you, but please leave me out of it")), being... mean... because i blocked someone...? (this one is just. that's how the second wave of hate started btw. yeah, because i blocked someone. holy fuck), and there's probably a handful of other things I haven't seen yet. fuck it, there's probably someone out there calling me a zoophile because of my catboy au

My friends who I will not name because I don't want the high school mean girls crusade to get to them, have helped me stash out evidence for all of the accusations and bullying.

fuck, they were the ones who let me know about it on the first place, both actions for which i am eternally thankful for because it means I can defend myself properly should the occasion arise (dios no quiera)

I've already had to make a post on Xitter responding to the antisemitism and pedophilia claims, in which, for the latter, i had to reveal extremely personal information for the people who started this to give me respite if only for a while

and. ugh

What I'm trying to get at with all of this is. it's. coming back is scary. i want to but at the same time I don't think I can take this shit anymore

I wish I had people defending me like this when the harassment started because I'm a spineless little bitch who'd rather talk things out and at least be neutral with people than clap back and tell them to stop being stinky

but what's done is done and now i just gotta figure out how to fix my head before i do something stupid

this is not the full story obviously, I'm cutting off certain details as well as more personal depression stuff to not make this bible longer than it already is

fuck

TLDR: I need a hug, idk if I'm coming back, I probably will cuz I can't say no to people, and some teenagers are horrible

#aneh answers #aneh cries #sorry this is so desorganized and scattered #never been too good at writing #and to clarify #no im not outing the shitheads #i just feel like theres no way to fix things anymore #theyre far too... words #ngh

593 notes · View notes

spockandawe · 2 years ago

Text

Here we go! I have some smaller books to share as well, but I've been absolutely VIBRATING with excitement to share a BIG one, and I'm going to indulge myself and post that today, then figure out words for the rest. Because I bound a new cnovel. Check it out, guys, I bound jwqs/clear and muddy loss of love :D

Let me indulge myself and backtrack a little! First, these are quarto books, so they're short. But I think these average a little under 500 pages each, and jwqs is a LONG book (my beloved), and this adds up to a total eleven inches of lesbians. More like twelve once they're in their cases. It's over a million characters in Chinese and I think the English translation comes in somewhere around 890k, it's HUGE

Making these books was SO FUN, I hadn't read jwqs and still haven't, and will probably read on my phone when I do. I don't have any exciting photos of the typesetting, but I knew this was an imperial succession story, and that made me nervous, those stories don't always click for me. Well, the process of typesetting and adding footnotes for this beast definitely confirmed that I'm going to have a good time with this thing when I have the time to read it, but there was also so much going on that only the vaguest of spoilers sank in. I went into an absolute FRENZY of typesetting, and after I printed, cut and folded it, well. That was one afternoon of sewing. You're looking at the reason I'm scrambling to make up a few hours of missed work, hahaha

After that, I needed cases. At the very beginning of march, I received a shipment of some FASCINATING bookcloth. It's called Duo, and it's made by layering a thin gauzy fabric of one color over paper of a different color. Depending on the combos, you get a really cool range of color-shifting effects. And they've gone out of production! But I was part of a group order to get some of the goods, and hadn't yet finished a new project. Reader, I went for it.

That purple and green is bananas!!!! It's so hard to photograph, this midnight picture of a few cases is one of my most successful attempts to capture the full range up close. Originally I'd been thinking of trying to evoke imperial gold, but I figured this was still the kind of drama and luxury suited the book, and also something something the hidden colors suited Qi Yan's character. I tied it back a little to the imperial gold with the endpapers, then titled them in silver foil, since the endpapers had silver in them.

But once the books were made, I felt like it wanted something... more. Something like a BOX!

And me, I chase novelty. A set this large would be tricky for anything clamshell, but a slipcase for all seven would leave books tipping all over if it was wide open, but putting walls between slots would be demanding in terms of precision and would risk similarly-sized books getting stuck in the wrong slots. Then I remembered learning about slipcases where you could put in a little insert to support the weight of the text block, and the concept SNAPPED into place.

Colors aren't going to photograph well at midnight, but I made the supports using the scraps and off-cuts from my endpapers, to tie it back into the bindings. The back of the case is lined in more of the duo, and the walls are lined with a faux leather bookcloth I like a lot, it feels buttery smooth and seemed like a good neutral material to tie the papers and bookcloth together. I listened to some of the DEEPEST layers from the nine-hour conspiracy theory iceberg video while I was working on this, haha, it was a TRIP.

And in the end, each of the supports is sized to comfortably sit in the smallest of the volumes, and evenly spaced, so I believe it will take the books in any order with no problems. It's easy to grab the books without having to cut notches into the walls to grab them from. And even though weight is less of an issue for quarto sizing, the books in here have their weight supported no matter what angle the box is at! I'm so, so pleased with how this concept worked out and definitely plan to do more with it in the future.

So there we are! Jing Wei Qing Shang! I had such a fabulous time with this project, and I'm so excited to get to share it with all of you. The story was fun to work with, the bindings and box were fun to make, and everything here came together just as well as I could possibly have hoped. I'm so proud of this, and incredibly, incredibly excited to show it to you!

#crafts #bookbinding #box making #oh boy what is this story tagged #jwqs #jing wei qing shang #clear and muddy loss of love #I'll pick one to stick with later 😂#long post/#so proud of this one!

1K notes · View notes

twjournals · 2 years ago

Text

summary: you're drunk at the club and Stiles takes you home

word count: over 1.4k

warning: two besties in love but neither will make the first move, drunken kiss, protective Stiles

"Think she's even good to drive?" Scott leaned into Stiles to talk over the music.

Stiles' eyes never left your as he shook his head. "Not a chance."

He had watched you nearly all night, between dragging Lydia to the dance floor with you every time your song come in (who knew you had so many) and nursing your drinks. He watched mainly because he wanted to make sure your night wasn't ruined by some scum. Or at least that's what he told himself. Either way, he was only looking out for you.

Lydia dragged you back to the bar with her arm around your waist. "Come on, Y/n, help a girl out." She huffed which caused you to giggle.

You propped yourself up against the bar, leaning your head against Stiles' shoulder with a sigh. His arm protectively rested around your waist to keep you up and though you were damn near wasted, you noticed.

"Keep an eye on her please. I need to use the bathroom." She says as she's already walking in the direction on the bathroom.

Stiles watched as you nuzzled your face in his neck for a moment. He wondered if you even knew who he was after that many shots. You were his best friend, aside from Scott, and he was in love with you. As much as he hated to admit it. Maybe he shouldn't hate it so much because you were after all his best friend. You knew each other in and out. No one could truly love you for everything you are like him, but it was also because you were his best friend that he hated to admit it. He feared even risking your friendship especially over his feelings.

"We should get you home." Stiles suggested.

You grumbled a noise as you started to sit up on the stool properly. Your hands held the bar for support. "I'm not ready to go though." You probably should go before you embarrassed yourself more, but right now, you had no shame.

You started to call the bartender over again, lifting yourself over the bar. Nevermind the way your dress was riding up, nor the fact that people could see your underwear. You had to get that man's attention. Just one more drink. That's what you kept telling yourself.

"Y/n," Stiles grumbled in your ear, feeling his chest quickly pressed against your back. He used his body to block everyone else from the show they would get. You weren't making this easy for him. "Sit down."

"Or what?" You shivered at the feeling of him pressed against your bare back, his warm breath against your ear. But you must stay focused.

"Where are your keys? I'm taking you home." He proceeded. You wondered if he was even listening.

"Stiles, I- I can take myself." You could feel your skin getting hot having him so close, or maybe that was the alcohol.

"Not a chance. Where are your keys?"

"No, I'm not leaving yet- that tickles-" You giggled as his hands tickled your sides while trying to reach your bag. "Nooo, I don't wanna go yet, Stiles-" You push yourself further into the counter, nearly throwing yourself over it in attempt to get out of his reach.

You're bent over the bar with a grin on your lips, your hands clinging onto his arms to keep him from getting your keys.

"You leave me no choice." He mumbled as he slips the bartender money to pay your tab just as you were about to order again.

You didn't have much time to ponder what he mean't by that before he was picking you up suddenly, pulling you over his shoulder. His hand shielded your ass to keep people from seeing up your dress as he carried out of the club.

"Stiles, put me down!" You protest.

You hear the door to the jeep open before he's putting you in passenger seat. He pointed a finger at you as he blocked you in. "You're drunk and I want you getting home safe." He stood still to make sure you didn't try to jump out on him. "Stay."

Your eyes lingered on him for a moment, the soft look at his eyes easing any emotion of anger. He shut the door before walking around to the driver side.

You could feel his eyes on you as you gazed out the window at your car still parked in the parking lot. "What about my car?" You hiccuped.

"It'll be okay. We'll come back for it tomorrow." He assured as he started to drive you home.

The car ride was quiet aside from your hiccups. Stiles glanced in your direction when your hiccups died down, hoping he might find you asleep, but you were still awake with your stare lingering out the window. He worried he might have pissed you off for carrying you out of the club, but then again he knew you would thank him in the morning.

He pulled the door open while you were in front of your place.

"Mad at me?" He couldn't help but to question.

You shook your head though, reaching your arms out for him to pick you up. He smiled, scooping you up in his arms and carrying you bridal style up the sidewalk toward your apartment building.

You listened to his heart beating against his chest and how it increased when your hand rubbed across it. You really couldn't ask for a better best friend. No one had ever looked out for you like Stiles did, cared for you the way he did. You almost laughed at the thought of Lydia trying to get you up to your apartment.

Stiles sat you down when you finally reached your bed, taking a moment to help you out of your heels so you could get into bed. "Before I go, can I get you any-" You caught him off guard when your lips pressed to his suddenly. Maybe you shouldn't have, but given how much liquor you had consumed, nothing was stopping you now. In fact, it only made the craving worse.

His lips were still against yours, processing what was happening. You were kissing him. This was really happening.

His arms wrapped around your body when he finally kissed you back. Your hands gripping the back of his neck to pull him further on the bed with you until his hands met the mattress.

"Wait-" He mumbled against your lips.

You parted from the kiss to look at him, still holding the back of his neck.

He closed his eyes with a frown. "Not like this." He started as he pushed himself up on the bed.

"Oh." You sat up on the bed, awkwardly crossing your legs as you adjusted your dress.

"No, I didn't mean it like that- I just Fuck.. You're perfect. Really you are. I have wanted this for so long, but I can't do it like this."

"Stiles.."

You watched the way he ran his hand down his face in frustration. You crawled closer to him on the bed, rubbing your hand in soothing circles against his back in attempt to calm him through his panic.

"You didn't do anything wrong." You assured.

"You're drunk-"

You interrupted him with a giggle. "To be fair, I kissed you first."

And yet he still couldn't stop himself from feeling this way. Not because it happened but more because he wanted to do it again. Just to pull you into his arms and kiss your lips all over again. He had no shame in kissing you, only never wanting to stop.

"I'm sorry for kissing you." You apologized.

He watched you lay back on the bed and sighed as he helped you pull the covers over your body. "Don't apologize."

"I don't want you upset."

"I'm not upset." He assured.

"Then I'm not sorry." You admitted honestly, quickly taking back your apology. Despite how much you had to drink, you would never be able to drown out the feelings you truly had for Stiles.

His eyes widened slightly in surprise before letting out a chuckle. "Well next time, would you mind doing it sober?"

Next time. Silly boy. It would be tempting. There was no doubt about it. You smiled instantly against the covers, turning over to get comfortable on the bed with your back facing him. You only hoped you would have the courage you do now to do it again sober.

"Goodnight, Stiles." You finally answered.

Though you couldn't see him, you could feel his eyes lingering on you. It was nowhere near the answer he was hoping for, but it was the answer he settled for. "Goodnight, Y/n."

#stiles stilinski imagine #stiles stilinski imagines #stiles stilinski x you #stiles stilinski x y/n #stiles stilinski x reader #stiles stilinski fanfiction #this is probably a cringe but this man is too cute

2K notes · View notes

hwanghyunjinenthusiast · 2 years ago

Text

Sunshine and Sundresses

AN: All this is about is Chris wanting to fuck you while you're in a sundress lol. I'm somewhat in my Chris feelings right now so yay.

Synopsis: There's just something about the sight of you in a sundress that makes Chris lose all of his self-restraint.

Heads up: Bang Chan x Fem! Reader, established relationship, mostly pwp, Soft Dom! Chris, public sex, Chris and Reader remain mostly clothed, dirty talk, pet names, Daddy kink, fingering (f. receiving), praise kink, unprotected piv sex, biting (f. receiving), creampie,

Reader and Chris lick the other's cum off Chris's fingers (it'll make sense when you get there lol) and Chris plugs Reader after cumming inside of her.

I will block you if you are a minor and/or have no easily visible indication of your age on your blog if you interact with me in any way.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Chris finds himself tripping over his words once again when he sees the bottom of your dress shift and ride up your thighs. This was getting ridiculous now.

He'd seen you in various outfits and states of dress over the months of your relationship, and, at the risk of sounding cheesy, he thinks you look beautiful no matter what you're wearing. However, he would be lying if he didn't find himself utter enthralled with you wearing sundresses in particular.

The two of you decided to go on a picnic since your schedules finally aligned, and Chris found himself completely tongue-tied when he was greeted with the sight of you in a pretty, yellow sundress that flitted against your fantastic thighs. He's also certain you're not wearing a bra that isn't helping the blood rushing to his dick.

"Chris?" You ask with a tinge of concern to your voice.

He needs to get his shit together. It's just a dress.

"Sorry, uh I was just saying that I'm glad that we finally got the chance to spend some time together," he responds, hoping you don't notice the breathlessness in his voice.

The smile you give him makes his heart rate pick up exponentially. It's only made worse when you cuddle further into his side and press a kiss against his jaw, "I'm happy we finally get to actually go on a date too. I've missed this."

Perhaps it's the overwhelming love he feels for you in that moment or just the simple desire to kiss you that compels him to angle himself to meet your lips.

He swallows the cute, startled noise you make, tightening his grip on your waist and deepening the kiss considerably. Rationally, he knows that the two of you probably shouldn't be making out so heatedly in a public park like this, but Chris can't bring himself to care as he rolls you onto your back. Groaning against your lips when the erection he's been fighting all day comes into contact with panty covered core.

He pulls back to catch his breath and stares down at your dazed face and freshly kissed lips, the tops of your tits being incredibly distracting with each laboured inhale you take. Well fuck. How is he supposed to stop now?

"You look so pretty," Chris breathes out, pressing delicate kisses to your jaw and reaching one of his hands down to grab a generous handful of one of your tits over the fabric of your dress.

"Ah, Chris, we're in public. Someone might see," you cry out, but he can tell you're trying to hold back. A self-satisfied smirk does cross his face when he feels your hands grip his back as he continues his assault on your throat and tit.

"We'll just have to be quiet then. You just look so beautiful that I couldn't help myself," he responds against your skin, groaning slightly as he fondles you.

He feels warmth course through his system at the shy expression on your face, shifting upwards to press a soft kiss against your lips as his hand moves from your chest to brush against your plush thighs. Chris strokes you through your panties lightly, his cock quickly becoming painfully hard as he swallows down all your moans and mewls and keens and, feels your nails digging into his broad, clothed back.

"Chris please," you moan out, your hips bucking up into his hand in search of more pressure.

"You know better than to call me by my name, princess," Chris softly chastises, slowing down his strokes in warning.

"No, Daddy, I'm sorry," you rush out so quickly and frantically that he almost misses what you say. However, when his brain is finally able to pull itself together, he groans and slots his mouth against yours once more. He moves your panties to the side and sinks two of his thick fingers inside of you, cock throbbing as your slick walls clench around them.

Chris is glad he had the foresight to kiss you before slipping his fingers inside of you because the moans and whines you let out likely would've gotten the two of you caught. He's a little disappointed that he won't get the chance to eat you out, but he didn't want to risk it. You two were already pushing your luck here. Instead, he focuses on opening you up with his fingers, curling them in the way he knows renders you thoughtless.

"Daddy, please. Want you in-inside me," you pull back and whine, reaching your hand down to stroke his cock over his pants.

It's Chris's turn to bite back his own sounds. Gritting his teeth from the toe-curling pleasure he feels from the pressure provided by your hand, his hips instinctively pressing into your hand in search of more relief.

"Wanna make sure you're stretched out properly. Don't wanna hurt you," he responds, his voice sounding strained to his own ears as he brushes your clit with his thumb.

"You-You won't hurt me, D-Daddy. I can t-take it," you whine, kissing and nipping at his jaw as you continue to palm him.

Chris can feel his resolve crumbling. A groan almost slipping from his mouth as your walls continue to clench around his fingers, and your mouth leaves hot kisses on his skin.

"Fuck, okay," he concedes, easing his fingers from your vice grip and sitting back so he could more comfortably tug off his pants. However, Chris is momentarily distracted by your juices coating his fingers. Impulsively, he shoves them in his mouth, moaning and his eyes fluttering shut. Your taste going straight to his cock, more pre-cum smearing his already sticky boxers.

Chris is brought out of taking in your taste by a very audible whine from you, eyes flying open to see you watching his mouth intently. You look completely frenzied as you watch him, your eyes completely glazed over and bruised lips parted.

He makes a mental note to eat you out properly later. For both of your sakes.

He hurriedly unbuttoned his pants, shoving them and his boxers down his thighs, his cock springing free. The mewl you let out and the way your thighs spread further as your eyes remain glued to his cock does phenomenal things for his ego.

"Are you ready?" He asks, grabbing himself and lining his cock up with your entrance.

"Yes, please," you respond, desperation seeping into your voice. God, you're just so fucking cute and pretty and, you're all his.

"Okay baby," he coos, slowly easing his cock into you. Gritting his teeth as your slick, velvet walls grip his cock harshly but, he wants to make sure the stretch isn't too much for you all at once.

He quickly covers your mouth with his hand when your moans get a little too loud, worrying him that the two of you might be overhead. Not that he doesn't get it. He has to make a conscious effort to swallow down his own noises from the mind-numbing pleasure of finally being fully inside of you.

"You have to be quiet, Princess," he warns, though any sterness in his voice is severely undercut by how breathless he sounds, even to his own ears.

Your mewl is muffled by his hand, watery eyes locking on his when he begins to thrust into you. He bites down on your shoulder to try his best to silence himself, a guttural groan slipping past his lips when you clench around him particularly hard.

"Yeah, you like this don't you, baby? You were acting so scandalised earlier but, the way your tight pussy is gripping me tells me everything I need to know," he mutters against your skin, leaving soft kisses on the partially visible bite mark left on your shoulder.

Even though his hand is covering your mouth, he can clearly make out your pleads and moans. A few stray tears running down your face.

As much as Chris would love to take his time with you, he didn't want to risk getting caught. He fucked into you hard and fast, hoping against hope noone is around to hear the sounds of skin slapping against skin and your respective muffled moans.

He was getting close, the sight of your glossy, tear eyes and cleavage jiggling with each of his brutal thrusts certainly wasn't helping.

"You have no idea what seeing you in this fucking dress does to me," he mutters against your throat in between kisses and light nips.

"So fucking pretty. So sexy," he continues on, hissing through his teeth as you tighten around him with each word of praise that falls from his plump lips.

Your hand reaches up to grasp his wrist, trying to signal to him to take his hand off of your mouth. When he does, you pull him into another frenzied kiss. It's all teeth and spit and, Chris hurriedly reaches between your bodies to rub circles against your swollen clit.

Chris tries his best to muffle your whines of 'Daddy' and 'please' and, borderline incoherent moans. His eyes roll into the back of his skull when you cum around him. Your pussy gripping him so tightly that he can barely pull out but, he fucks you through it nonetheless. Cooing praises and encouragement to you as you ride it out, his hand grabbing your thigh as his own climax hits him like a train.

You both moan into each other as Chris's warm, thick cum floods your eager pussy. He shudders as you continue to clench around him all the while, seemingly trying your hardest to milk him for all of his cum.

He resists the urge to just continue lying here with you and sleepily exchanging kisses while you both bask in your respective afterglows. He grimaces as he pulls out of you, desire curling in his as he plugs you with his fingers to prevent any of his cum from leaking out of you. "Chris," you gasp out, your hips jolting against his hand.

"I want you to keep all of my cum inside you," he says with a dark edge to his voice, hurriedly putting your panties in place and pulling his fingers out of you. They're coated with his cum and he feels his sensitive cock twitch when you grasp his hand and put them in your mouth, eagerly licking his essence off of them.

Fuck, he loves you.

#bang chan smut #stray kids smut #chan smut #chan stray kids smut #stray kids chan smut #chris smut

1K notes · View notes

phebess · 2 months ago

Note

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers! Spread the self-love 💞

Oof I just looked through my own works page and I think it's possible that I write too much Carlando. But here goes! Some are kind of basic but I have a few sleeper favorites as well.

What Happens in Brazil - The one that started it all. I was so new to writing that I think it *desperately* needs another edit, but I also kind of want to leave it as is - even if it's rough. I still love this story so much and I had so much fun writing it!

Señor Sainz - Another one from the early days. I re-read this the other day and, at the risk of sounding conceited, had a great little time. I feel like I didn't ever struggle with writers block on this fic, so it was fun to read without getting to chapter/scenes I regret writing.

Twin Flame - Look, I'm a whore for a soulmate AU. End of.

Pit Stop Practice - This one is so short, and I wrote it during probably the lowest point of Lando's career, and yet I loved exploring how he handled it behind closed doors.

Number One Fan – I do love this fic, but what makes it a top five for me is the experience I had while writing it. The response to this story, whether in the comments or in my inbox, was beyond what I had ever expected, and it was so motivating to keep going with it. I read every comment and tried to respond to every message, and found myself literally cancelling plans to sit down and write. This fic made me feel so loved, so thank you all for that 🤍

And those are my top five! Thank you, sweet anon, for sending this prompt – it was nice to go back to where things started, and pushed me to give out a much belated thank you to anyone who's ever read something of mine.

#anon 🤍#me #carlando #carlando fanfiction

35 notes · View notes

geometricgiovanni · 7 months ago

Text

YOU ARE NOW A PRETTY PRINCESS! ✨

This blog contains references to threats and violence. You have been warned.

(hey guys cool sexy man here to tell you first half is in-character, second half under cut is out-of-character)

HELLO! I MADE THIS ACCOUNT OUT OF SPITE OF THAT DISGUSTING THING THAT PLAGUES THIS GOD-FORSAKEN SITE!

NO, DON'T ASK ME ABOUT IT. IF YOU DO, I WILL CRUSH YOU! LETHALLY. You will feel pain. also he blocked me on all 8 of my accounts so um, y'know........

ASK ME THINGS! ASK ME TO DESCRIBE IN EXCRUCIATING DETAIL ASPECTS OF MY LIFE! ASK ME TO DO OBSCURE ACTIVIES THAT WOULD SEVER MY LIMBS IF I HAD ANY!

So here's some info in a similar format to my other blog, some things, such as boundaries, will be copied and pasted:

Blog Information✨

This is an ask/rp blog for Jeremy from regretevator, specifically the Jeremy referenced in @displ3azant. I might use this blog to more freely talk about my specific headcanons about characters from the perspective of an outsider, so that account is likely the only specific one referenced on this blog.

Jeremy in this blog uses he/any!

MAIN TAGS:

#geometric asks - Asks

#geometric posts - Non-ask related posts/reblogs

#ooc - Out-of-character post

BLOG OWNER 🔥

Hello! I am Hex! Yes, you will see me talking to myself! No, do not comment on it. Please refer to me using he/him or it/its pronouns.

My other accounts are: @hexexists - my main blog, if you receive notifications from this account, please know it is just me! @hexational - my regretevator blog @displ3azant - afformentioned Unpleasant rp blog

I'll try to respond to most asks with a drawing of some variety, and if it's something I can use to reveal little ass-shit and bull-dumps about my version of Jeremy.

Please note, however, I am not just one singular guy but also a senior who should really be spending his free time studying, so sometimes I will just give a text response.

Also to note: I am 17 years old, therefore a minor! Even if I was not a minor, I am still not comfortable with weird shit! Keep it in your fucking pants, asshole! Apologies if I sound rude, but holy shit the only blog gets SO many weird asks! I will just be blocking and ignoring any freaky anons, apologies if you are my friend trying to mess with me, but I genuinely cannot take any more risks.

Boundaries ✨

Shipping content: Shipping content is okay, but I don't care much for romance personally and so will likely not play much into it. Please don't push anything, I guess, and nothing that promotes proshipping or any kind of literally illegal pairing. If you dislike any direction taken ship-wise for this blog, then block me and move on with your day.

NSFW content: NSFW CONTENT IS NOT ALLOWED. I am a minor. Thx. Also, "suggestive" jokes are very selectively okay. Basically, if it makes me uncomfortable or is literally disgusting, it will be ignored and likely deleted, and I will probably make fun of you.

Roleplaying: I am totally okay with roleplaying and sending/responding to asks in character!

(ps: i'm also happy to rp with other regretevator ocs too, i think those r super duper cool)

That's all, really.

your mortal enemy,

-Hex

#regretevator jeremy #ask blog #ask/rp blog #regretevator ask blog #regretevator #geometric asks #geometric posts #ooc

107 notes · View notes

calamari-inari · 2 months ago

Text

I'm sorry if this seems like I'm complaining again. I'm suffering from severe imposter syndrome and self loathing, but I feel the need to write it out. Read on at your own risk

Tbh, I think it's the task of promoting my projects the past month that triggered a worsening of my existing depression. So much that I needed to block myself from using a few of my daily apps (twitter and discord). I've been promoting my projects for over a month. Anticipating sales, but having low conversion rate, and things don't go as you expect it to go, and I can't help but feel like a failure when few of the people I believe are closer to me care about it. I'm just so drained from feeling insufficient. Perhaps the social media algorithms are to blame

Recently, I also feel like all my friendships are distanced. I'm having a ton of insecurities because there's no one I can lean on right now for emotional support. Why would anyone want to talk to me when I'm in this state fr. But also, I'm so on edge and think negatively out of self defense. "They're only talking to me to get my help for their own advantage," or "They just care about having my attention and don't actually value me as a friend." Why am I like this and why do I need so much validation? It does not help when I have no friends irl. That's why my online friends mean so much and it hurts when the feelings aren't reciprocated. I get irrationally irritated and jealous when I hear mentions of my online friends having other friends to be around with in person because that's not something I have. I have one irl bestie that I rarely talk to now, but even she's an online friend due to our long distance and I had to move away after graduating uni. Work also hasn't treated me well with the one person I decided to befriend before I was "dumped." And what sucks is that we work in the same team so having to see him is a daily reminder that I'm not good enough. It probably all stems from my self-hatred and trauma. And it's not my current depression talking. I've felt this way about myself for as long as I remember. I'm the very definition of a lone wolf and I have very low hope for myself with my incapability to make and keep friendships.

Anyway, this is like the longest post regarding anything personal, so I'll stop here. If you made it this far, I congratulate you for putting up with my blathering

#inari's rambles

20 notes · View notes

ashen-vulture · 3 months ago

Text

A Vulture In Therapy #2.5

A Nice Little Interlude (The Roost)

First <<< Previous << x >> Next?

The looming city was intense and claustrophobic to my quiet, rural, country-kid senses. I don't have an appointment yet, but I want to familiarize myself with the route.

My hands were shaking as I found a place to park and stepped out. Everything looks the same. I pull out my phone to see if my map app could illuminate the way, but it seemed about as lost as I was. Luckily I printed out the address and directions.

Surely I wouldn't get lost.

...

I got lost.

Whenever I get lost like this I inevitably devolve into a hyperventilating, crying mess, but this time I was only feeling a tightness in my chest and a fog filling my eyes. I just needed a place to sit down and recover. Somewhere quiet.

I noticed a narrow walkway out of the corner of my misty eyes and seemed to call to me. On the second floor of an older looking building hung a sign that said "The Roost (Witches, Familiars, and Spirit Bonds Welcome)."

As I ascended the long ramp I could smell fresh bread and coffee. The tightness in my chest relaxed as I went inside. There was a lot of vertical space inside, with small walkways along the walls with the occasional fox, cat, and snake. There was a tree growing up in the middle of a luminous green circle, bearing fresh fruit, and with crows and owls existing amicably within range of one another.

"I knew this place was magic, but..." I began to whisper to myself, taking in the beauty of the small cafe.

The air here felt relaxing and familiar and easy even though it was a little cramped. I walked up to the counter to order, stuttering through the menu. The elderly woman behind the counter smiled warmly, her wrinkles stretching her heavily freckled face in a kind and lively way.

"You must be one of the new witch apprentices."

"Huh?"

She pointed to the array of skull, dream, and vulture pins on my purse as I was paying.

"Oh! No, I'm..." I remembered the stories I've heard from other therians. Was it worth the risk? I just want a calm place to sit and get my bearings.

...

... Then again, asking a local for directions might help, too.

"Actually I'm a Therian... I'm here looking for Doctor Erian's clinic, but I got really lost... Do you think maybe you..."

She waved her hand, "oh dear don't be too worried, you're just a block over! One of those new 'therian' things, eh?" Her words were blunt, but she was saying them with kindness, "I've been hearing stories about it, seems like a strange new trend, but I can't fault folks for it! Why if it has been around when I was a young'n' I'd have probably turned myself into a macaw!"

She turned to scratch the head of her equally elderly Scarlett Macaw familiar, who mimicked the sound of a bright, cheerful bell in response.

I smiled at her. She finished giving me directions. I finished ordering and paying, then I found myself a comfy little window seat at The Roost and watched the street below.

Yeah. This is a good place.

#therian HRT #the vulturing continues

18 notes · View notes

allthingsfangirl101 · 4 months ago

Text

Inspiration – Timothy McGee

Masterlist

McGee's POV

We rarely get three-day weekends, so when we do, I use that time to get a jump on my writing. Which is what I was doing this weekend, however, it's not working.

I tore the sheet of paper out of my typewriter and shredded it. I was trying to write my second book, but no new ideas were coming to me.

I let out a slight sigh of relief when someone knocked on my door. My heart jumped into my throat when I looked through my peephole.

"Y/N?" I said her name before opening the door. My stomach flipped when I saw her on my doorstep smiling at me. "What are you doing here?"

"It's a three-day weekend," she shrugged. "I knew you'd be writing and I knew you'd forget to eat."

I laughed as she walked by me and headed into the kitchen. When I walked in, she was pulling the food out of the bag and putting it on the table.

"How'd you know?" I asked as I leaned against the fridge.

"Are you kidding?" She scoffed, not looking at me. "Tim, I've known you since we were six. When you get focused on writing, you get a little too focused."

"Meaning?" I asked as I grabbed two beers from the fridge and placed them on the table.

"Meaning I know when you get focused, you completely forget to eat, bathe, change your clothes," she listed off. "I'm surprised you remember to breathe. Don't you remember senior year? You were working on your MIT application and forgot to eat for two days. I came over and you were barely conscious."

"You didn't leave for a week after that," I smiled.

"You scared me," she mumbled. She cleared her throat before adding, "I didn't want to risk it happening again."

She looked up at me with soft eyes - the eyes that always made me melt.

"What'd you bring us?"

* * * * *

Y/N and I spent two hours eating and talking. I completely forgot about my book as Y/N leaned her head on my shoulder and was barely able to stay awake during the movie. Without moving too much, I grabbed the blanket from off the couch behind us and draped it over her. Suddenly, it was thrown across the room.

"Is this your new book?" Y/N squealed as she jumped up and ran to my typewriter. I instantly followed her.

"Please don't read it." I tore it out of her hand and we played Keep-Away for a little while. "I'm serious, Y/N. It's not done."

"Oh come on," Y/N sighed. "I'm your best friend. You let me read your first book before you sent it off to all those publishers."

"That was after I finished it."

Y/N stopped when she saw something on my face. She let go of the pages, but I tossed it onto my desk before she could apologize.

"Is something wrong?" She asked gently.

"I'm fine," I cleared my throat. She grabbed my arm and made me look at her.

Damn it, I thought to myself. That look always gets to me.

"Tim," she whispered. "Talk to me. What's wrong?"

"I'm stuck," I admitted.

"With your book?" She asked. I nodded making her send me her puppy-eyes. She grabbed my hand and led me over to my couch. Once we sat down, she scooted closer to me.

"Talk to me."

"It's just a stupid block," I shrugged. "It'll go away eventually."

"I know," she nodded, "but talk it out with me. Tell me what's happened so far in your book and maybe it'll help you figure it out."

Y/N sat back as I went through the first half of my new book with her. The more she nodded and the more questions she asked, the weirder I felt. For the first time all weekend, talking to Y/N helped me relax.

Talking to Y/N always felt. . . different.

"I think," she hesitated to voice her thoughts.

When she didn't continue, I gently pushed, "What?"

"I don't want you feeling like I'm telling you how to write your story," she started to ramble. "I mean, you're the writer, not me. So it's probably stupid and not nearly as good as what you could come up with. I should probably just stop talking because. . ."

"Y/N," I gently cut her off. "You are the only critic I listen to so, let me have it."

"There's nothing wrong with what you've already written," she said quickly. "I especially like how you're focusing more on McGregor."

"My publisher pushed for it," I shrugged. "She says people like him better than some of the other characters."

"I agree," Y/N smiled at me. Her smile slightly changed as she added, "But I was thinking that you could add. . . Something."

"What did you have in mind?"

"Your love interest."

Tension thickened between us. Y/N's eyes widened as she clarified, "I mean Agent McGregor's love interest. I know you already got rid of that being Amy but what if you introduced someone new?"

"New?"

"Yeah," she shrugged, her cheeks turning a slight pink. "There's nothing wrong with introducing a new character. Plus, this love interest could help him disconnect from his work."

"I like that."

"I guess," she quickly continued, "that means you need new inspiration, right? That's how you work. You meet someone and they influence your character. So, you need to go out, meet a woman, and poof! You have your inspiration."

Y/N gasped as I leaned over and pressed my lips to hers. I was about to break the kiss but she started kissing me back. Things were slow and soft. I broke the kiss and leaned back, looking directly into her eyes.

"I don't need to go out and meet a new woman to get inspiration," I whispered. "Turns out, I've had it all along."

"You are such a cheeseball, Thom E. Gemcity," she teased.

"Only for you, my inspiration," I teased back. "Only for you."

#NCIS #ncis fanfic #agent mcgee #timothy mcgee x reader #timothy mcgee

20 notes · View notes

grapenehifics · 9 months ago

Text

Prisoner 224

I really loved writing Out of Sync for @fulcrum843's @topwan-obikin fest prompt, but fully intended it to be a one-shot until @somethingsteff started feeding me ideas and, well, I'm limited on free time right now so this is still only a ficlet but I couldn't help myself.

If you don't know the fic, the Council finds out about Obi-Wan and Anakin's relationship and they quit the Order. Anakin punches Palpatine when he insults Obi-Wan and gets sent to jail, and Obi-Wan hurries to hit the Chancellor as well so they can stay together. This also fulfills @ficwip's Hey Sweetheart challenge!

Text under the cut:

“Where are we going?” Anakin demanded. His hands were bound at the wrists in front of him, which didn’t make him look very threatening, but he gave his best glare to the backs of the heads of the troopers escorting him down the hall anyway.

Neither the troopers ahead of him nor the two at his back answered him. Their little group just kept marching along.

“I demand to know where you’re taking me,” Anakin tried, not pausing in his forward march but flexing his fingertips in preparation. He didn’t want to use the Force against them – besides the fact that they were probably just acting on orders from someone higher up the prison management chain of command, he was also pretty sure even something mild like knocking four guards out for a few hours would get his sentence extended and that was the opposite of what he wanted considering Obi-Wan was already slated to get out weeks before he did – but he also was not planning on taking a move to another cell block without putting up some sort of a fight.

He and Obi-Wan were kept apart for most of the day – Anakin in his cell and Obi-Wan in his – but because they were part of the same cell block, they were allowed to take both their exercise hour and their meal break together, Anakin holding Obi-Wan’s hand clasped in his as they jogged around the exercise track in their prison-issued tracksuits and rubbing elbows as they sat side-by-side with their dinner trays (and this only because they’d been told off for trying to sit on each other’s laps instead). But it was still a far sight better than not getting to see him at all, and Anakin hadn’t even done anything wrong (lately) and so really didn’t deserve to be punished like this.

“I want to go back to my cell,” he said.

“One of my batchmates is serving under Commander Cody in the 212th,” the trooper behind Anakin on his right said through his helmet vocoder. “CT-3812.”

“Sure. Punch, right?” Anakin said easily. “Yeah, I know him. But what has that got to do with anything?”

“That’s him,” the trooper agreed. None of the prison guards had ever told Anakin their names, just their badge numbers, although not for lack of asking. This one was one of the supervisors. Some of the younger guys were so green they had five-digit designations. “He’s met General Kenobi a few times.”

“Cool. So have I,” Anakin nearly growled. “That’s who I’m trying to get back to. So if you could just put me back in my cell, that’d be great. Or at least tell me what I’ve done.”

“Punch tells me he’s a real stand-up guy,” the trooper continued, as if Anakin hadn’t spoken. “Always makes sure his men have enough to eat. Doesn’t take unnecessary risks. That sort of thing.”

They rounded a corner. Anakin was starting to get desperate. “Just tell me where we’re going,” he practically begged. “I can call in a couple of favors and get myself reassigned back to Obi-Wan’s floor”-

“Punch also said,” the trooper on Anakin’s right said, so loudly he was almost shouting in Anakin’s ear, “that one time you and your troops joined up with their battalion, you threw yourself in front of a blazer bomb. Saved the lives of fifteen men.”

Anakin had done that enough times that that didn’t really narrow it down for him. “Which campaign?” he asked, but the trooper ignored him yet again, which seemed rude, considering he’d started the conversation in the first place.

A commlink chirped – Anakin instinctively looked to his own belt before remembering he didn’t wear one anymore – and one of the troopers at the front of their procession answered it.

“We’re ready for you, Sergeant,” the voice on the other end said.

“Copy,” the man said, replacing the device on his belt.

“Well, I’m not ready,” Anakin said, and he stopped walking. The troopers at his back nearly ran into him. “I’m not going any further without an explanation. If you can’t give me that, then you can just put me back in my cell, because” –

“We do regular maintenance, on all the cells,” one of the troopers injected, talking over the tail end of Anakin’s sentence. “Routine cleaning, things like that. Check that the water pipes are functioning properly, do a little light dusting…”

“I don’t care if my cell is clean or not,” Anakin hissed. “You can skip mine for the next five months if you want. Or let me do it myself. Is that the problem? Just give me the tools and leave me alone. If you’re worried I’m going to break out, I promise I won’t. As long as you’ve got Obi-Wan here I’m, like, the opposite of a flight risk.”

“It might take, say, three hours to finish the whole floor, wouldn’t you say?” the trooper on Anakin’s left asked the trooper on Anakin’s right.

“Maybe as many as four,” he responded.

“And we do these sorts of rounds every other week,” the first one continued.

“What’s that got to do with anything?” Anakin demanded.

“If you’d just wait right in here, Prisoner 224,” the trooper who was friends with Punch said, and nudged Anakin in the back with the butt of his rifle.

“I told you; I’m not going. And you’re bluffing. You won’t shoot me.”

“That’s true,” the trooper admitted. “I’m not. What I am going to do is count to thirty, and by the time I get to the end, you’re going to decide to go, all on your own.”

“Ha,” Anakin said. “Like hell I am. What on earth do you think would make me” –

“Here we are, sir,” another of the troopers said, and he punched the button to release the door guard in front of one of the cells. He was wearing a bucket, but he somehow seemed to be able to stare straight into Anakin’s eyes anyway. “Four hours, every other week,” he repeated slowly, enunciating very clearly.

“I don’t care how clean it is,” Anakin insisted, just as he was very unceremoniously shoved forward into the new cell he absolutely did not want to be in –

“Oh. Hello, sweetheart,” Obi-Wan said, sitting up from where he’d been lying on his back across his bunk, his arms crossed behind his head. “Fancy seeing you here.”

“What” – Anakin stammered as the door guard slammed down behind him, locking him in. Locking him into Obi-Wan’s cell. With Obi-Wan.

Anakin opened his mouth. Shut it. Opened it again. The binders around his wrists unlocked and fell to the floor with a clatter. “Send Punch my regards,” he said, without turning his head. He and Obi-Wan hadn’t stopped staring into one another’s eyes from the moment they’d faced one another. Obi-Wan grinned. Anakin grinned back.

“Will do, sir,” his friend said jovially, but Anakin missed hearing him as he launched himself at Obi-Wan and Obi-Wan, laughing, caught him and lowered him down onto his bunk.

“Did I just hear you say something about four hours?” Obi-Wan asked mischievously, one eyebrow raising into a verbal question mark.

“Shut up and kiss me,” Anakin said, and Obi-Wan did.

#hey sweetheart #out of sync #obikin

39 notes · View notes

fireflysummers · 1 year ago

Text

Final Thoughts on GO S2

I'm probably gonna pull back on discussing S2, at least publicly, after this. I did actually like a lot of the season, but it's triggering some of my religious trauma and also the fandom is already stressing me out. So here, let's have some final thoughts.

First and foremost: I am not a Gaiman simp. I've read a decent amount of his work: comics, short stories, essays, and novels. Aside from Good Omens, I've liked Coraline and The Graveyard Book the best by far, whereas American Gods just. Did Not Connect with me, even though it's should have, given the stuff I tend to enjoy.

However. Regardless of whether I like a given work (or even like how he adapted it, a la parts of The Sandman TV series), he is a veteran writer who has proven that he does, actually, know how to write a story with consistent characters.

Beyond that, I do actually believe that he's trying to do right by Pratchett, and loves and respects the story and characters they created together. He's generally shown up as an ally to a variety of social causes, and directly and respectfully responds to fans on Tumblr. While no saint, I feel that there is cause to give the benefit of the doubt that things will resolve satisfyingly in S3, and that there is Intention about some of the things in S2.

This, of course, does not absolve it of being "bad," but even here I think we need to articulate better the different types of "bad" that people are reacting to. There seems to roughly be three camps here: 1) People who thought it was "bad" because of how it ended, with the breakup and a lot of unresolved plot threads; 2) People who thought it was "bad" because it struggled on a technical level with its set, lighting, directorial choices, editing, etc; 3) People who thought it was "bad" because they felt the characterization was significantly off and that the internal logic of the series had been violated.

With regards to Point One, the only solution is to Wait and See. Judgement should be reserved until the story is properly finished--easier said than done, especially considering the current media landscape, and the number of series or franchises that fail to live up to their promises.

Point Two isn't something I understand well enough to contribute meaningfully, except that I suspect the pandemic affected this aspect the most and am willing to give it a bit more mercy. That aside, I for the most part I don't find it bad so much as not as good as S1. Except for the parts with epilepsy warnings, surely there could've been a better way to do that.

Point Three... that's the stumbling block for me, and I find it interesting that most of the folks who struggle with this point in particular are long time fans of the book.

I trust that instinct.

There are two different directions to go from here. The first is the assumption that these problems are a result of ego, carelessness, or lack of skill from the showrunners/writers/director. It's cynical but not unjustified. The second is the belief that the breaks in lore or characterization were intentional, building towards a much grander conspiracy. Of course, even in this case I don't think it forgives the lack of signposting that would indicate that this is a choice rather than an accident. It just makes it feel clumsy and poorly constructed, a major risk on a show that hasn't had its third season confirmed.*

However, regardless, it still feels salvageable. I've enjoyed reading a lot of meta on all this, and I've pulled some things from others (particularly That Theory by @ariaste), but I don't really want to put forth a single, defined theory myself. Instead, here's some questions I've got, why those questions are important (to me, at least). Actual theorizing comes after, and anybody who snidely mentions Sherlock in the comments or tags is going to get auto-blocked. Like seriously, I'm aware that some stuff is a stretch, but it's fun??? To theorize????? And I'm here for me and my peace of mind rather than trying to argue a point.

*I have some suspicions here, particularly with Gaiman stating that the decision from Amazon would come much faster than The Sandman's second season (which was four months). I don't know enough though to say if that's actually significant.

Questions

Who the fuck is telling this story?

This is the most important piece, in my opinion. There's this assumption when reading books (or research papers, newspapers, etc...) that the narrator who is writing the words is a non-presence, Neutral and objective. That's not the case, and an important part of literature critique is figuring out who the narrator is, and what their goals are. Oftentimes, the narrator and the author are the same person, but with Pratchett's work, particularly on Good Omens and Discworld, the Narrator was its own unique character.

This is why people struggle adapting Discworld to live action--that medium requires a Reason for having a Narrator, and especially in the age of method acting that's often considered immersion-breaking. Good Omens worked so well because they not only kept the Narrator, but they made Her God.

This added some really interesting new dimensions, such as the scene where Crowley speaks to God about his fall and the destruction of humanity. He doesn't receive an answer, but we're watching from God's perspective, so we as the audience know that She's listening.

Another advantage of making God the Narrator is that it justifies all the goofy little asides we get into the lives of minor characters (i.e. Leslie the Mailman), without losing focus. It helps the world feel like it’s full of people, rather than characters and plot contrivances, and the theme that individual people and their choices are important. The Narrator is such a central character of Good Omens that without it, the story struggles to stay focused.

It also highlights a key difference in the writing styles of the two authors. Pratchett’s work tends to introduce four or five totally unique plot threads that feel completely disjointed until the last act (if not even later), when it turns into a Chekhov’s Firing Squad. Plot twists around secret identities and backstabbing and schemes are relatively rare, as the omniscient Narrator doesn’t lie about the intentions of people or their actions.

Gaiman’s writing is typically not like that, to my knowledge. He buries characters in misdirection and hints, and you never know the true identity or motives until all the chips are down. It’s a perfectly valid way to approach storytelling, but it makes it jarring to see it in S2. The lack of a Narrator is a huge reason why S2 doesn’t feel like Good Omens to some folks.

My gut feeling is that the decision to shift from the original Narrator was highly intentional. It helps to obscure the thoughts and intentions of people, and it also muddles the insights that we’re supposed to take away. (I would have loved hearing God monologue about what’s going on in Jim’s head. I think it’d do a lot to make him seem less.... obnoxiously stupid.)

More than that, it brings up a reasonable potential plot point of: Where did God go? Why isn’t She present in the story? Even in her early appearance in the Job flashback, she doesn’t sound like the narrator for last season. After the first part of her speech (which Gabriel later quotes), her tone turns casual and condescending, which might line up with her being a bit of an asshole, it doesn’t line up with the whole “dealer of a mysterious card game who is always smiling”).

Also, I don’t think it’s safe to assume that nobody is telling the story either. Just because they’re not making their presence known doesn’t mean they aren’t there, and in a story like Good Omens, that’s concerning.

Wait, where's Satan?

Another person I saw while scrolling the tags pointed out that Satan is nowhere to be seen this season. He's really only mentioned in reference to a bet God made in Job, but then Crowley is the one on the ground causing mischief. There's no Hail Satan among demons (like Hastur and Ligur did at the start of S1).

That's might be because the writers didn't want us to think it was important (a la Hastur), but that feels off. Given that Satan speaks directly through the radio to Crowley in S1, complimenting him on his work, it's safe to say that he was at least aware of and involved in the goings-on in Hell. The fact that he wasn't even an worry for Beelzebub in abandoning their post? Feels weird.

(Also if you know where that post is, I'll happy credit + link)

What is Maggie?

Look, I love cute lesbians in love as much as the next queer, but I don't like Maggie. I don’t think she’s a person. Contextually, she’s a plot device, but I agree with That Essay that she might be an actual Plot Device.

Her characterization is simple and relatively shallow—a bit of an airhead, ray of sunshine that’s supposed to remind you of Aziraphale. When she describes her past to Nina, it’s almost robotic (also, her story implies it was Mr. Fell who first rented to her ancestor, not Mr. Fell’s great-grandfather like Nina implied). Her emotions are over-dramatic and seem to be turned on and off at random (scenes with her crying to Aziraphale about her woes had my “manipulator” senses going off for some reason).

When asked about a song, she not only IDs the song, its singer, and its year, but how and on what it was distributed. (Honestly thought this would’ve been something interesting, because she’s been pretty ditzy so far, it’d be interesting if she had like... an insane memory for music history.) And then she’s the one that sets Aziraphale on his little investigation by giving him the transformed records, while also planting the seed about her love troubles with Nina. Later, her advice to Crowley is... not awful, but feels insincere and a bit too forward, given her own self-proclaimed lack of relationship experience.

I don’t know what she is (a demon, hastur with amnesia in disguise, a literal plot device inserted by the current storyteller, etc...), but there’s something not right with her.

(Also the joke of “who listens to records anymore, it’s so old fashioned” just doesn’t land, lots of people buy records, and I’m saying this as somebody who has worked at a record store before.)

What's going on with Aziraphale?

There’s something Off about Aziraphale, and it’s not his choices at the end of the season. That makes total sense if you read him as somebody with severe religious trauma getting dragged back into the abusive system because other people need him and he’s been promised the ability to change things.

But I do think something is happening to his memory. Nearly all the flashbacks are from Aziraphale’s point of view and retelling, which means that they’re less reliable than God’s version of events in the previous season. Many of them don’t make logistical sense (post-church scene in 1941), depict Crowley as meaner or more sinister than we know he is, or frame events... weirdly. The scene with him trying food for the first time feels Really Bad, especially when the series has previously established that he’s a) prim and proper and b) his interest in food is one of the beautiful things that connect him to humanity, not some kind of gluttonous sin. Also he turns down alcohol.

Their meet-cute at the start of the universe also doesn’t line up with their reactions to each other in Eden, or the fact that knowing each other Before has never come up or been hinted at anywhere ever. I don’t know what’s causing this to happen, only that Aziraphale repeatedly looks pensive when coming out of flashbacks, and Crowley is never there afterwards to corroborate said memories.

His actions also seem pretty inconsistent with what we know of him—i.e. I refuse to believe he would ever mistreat his books, even if they’re just old encyclopedias. Also, he feels a bit too...forceful in trying to get Nina and Maggie to fall in love? I mean, he didn’t exert that much direct influence on even Warlock, when he was actively hoping that the boy would turn out angelic rather than neutral.

I don’t think this removes his agency in that last decision, so much as explains how he was in such a vulnerable place at all. He still needs to apologize and fix things, because he messed up, and even if he hadn’t he still seriously hurt Crowley.

What's going on with Crowley?

There’s something Off about Crowley. The most obvious thing, of course, is his memories. At multiple points in the present day, characters state that they remember him or have met him before, only to be met with confusion. This is especially concerning given that he has a nigh photographic memory for faces (something mentioned in the book when he immediately IDs Mary Loquacious, 11 years after a 30 second conversation).

Overall, he seems to be better known by other supernatural entities this season, in ways that often tie him back to his angelic identity (i.e. saying they fought together in the war, Aziraphale stating he knew the angel he used to be, etc...). This doesn’t feel right, because S1 we see that Hell is largely apathetic towards his schemes, and definitely does not defer to him at any point in any capacity.

Then there’s the issue of his power level. It’s always been speculated that Crowley was a powerful angel prior to falling, when he mentions in S1 his involvement with star making, his seemingly unique ability to freeze time, and creating a pocket universe for Adam before the confrontation with Satan. He also has a tendency of breathing life into inanimate objects, like his plants or car. He also has the regular demonic skillset: miracles that can adjust physical appearance; the ability to change inanimate objects (like paintball guns into real guns); the ability to manifest clothing and similar items; and summon hellfire to his fingertips. This, plus the way he monologues to God with a degree of familiarity rather than reverence seems to indicate that he was Somebody Powerful and Important Before.

But in S2, his skills are significantly expanded upon. The miracle he and Aziraphale summon sets off alarms in heaven and hell, and it’s powerful enough to mask Gabriel from the Archangels. He summons a miniature sun to rain fire on Job, which is way bigger and flashier than anything we’ve seen him summon in S1. (If he needs fire, he alters the course of a dropping bomb, without creating one himself.)

Yet he’s able to cloak his presence so well he goes wholly unnoticed in heaven, or in front of heavenly agents on earth (i.e. the Job flashback). Muriel can’t clock him as a demon, or even as another supernatural being, despite their auras usually being pretty significant, such Aziraphale immediately sensing the archangels when they arrive. He’s able to interfere with files that Muriel claimed required clearance (although I feel like that might just be a snark about Obeying Without Thinking? I would really need a Narrator to know.)

I might be misremembering, but I don’t think we’ve seen angels or demons transmogrify living beings before either. In the book, Crowley brings Aziraphale’s dove back to life after the failed magic show, and occasionally sinks ducks, but he doesn’t alter them? Not even Adam demonstrates that skill in S1. But he has no trouble turning Job’s children into lizards, however temporarily. Boy that would’ve been convenient during the flood. Or when the guard stopped then from getting to the air strip.

I don’t have any real issues with his characterization in the present day parts of S2, but there’s something weird happening with Crowley.

Where's all the people?

I really like a lot of the new characters, but how were there only like, 2.5 new humans named in the present day? Flashbacks don’t count bc the humans are all dead and can’t affect the story.

As much as I like Nina, she and Maggie don’t drive the story beyond being an occasional and awkwardly inserted plot contrivance? Both are actively robbed of their agency at several points, forced into situations that they could not have avoided or escaped. I’m not really sure what growth they’re expected to experience other than deciding not to date each other after everything. I literally can’t tell you anything about Nina other than that she remembers her regular’s orders, runs a coffee shop, and has a textbook abusive partner we never see. The only meaningful interactions they have are between those two, or in conversation with Aziraphale and Crowley.

Compare that to S1, where Anathema gets hit by Aziraphale and Crowley, but her primary relationships are with Newt, Adam, and Agnes Nutter (I think that counts as a relationship). We know that she’s got a wealthy family back in Puerto Rico, and that she was literally raised to save the world, and that she isn’t happy under all that pressure. Newt on the other hand is connected to not just Anathema, but Shadwell and Madame Tracy. He never even directly interacts with Aziraphale and Crowley. We know about his hobbies, his struggle to hold down a job, and his almost supernatural ability to destroy any electronics he touches. I don’t necessarily like how their relationship came together, but they were both very, very well fleshed out characters with unique backstories and goals. They weren’t just... waiting around to give Aziraphale and Crowley a new questline.

And while there’s no requirement to include a large cast of human characters that are exerting influence over the story, the lack of it is another aspect that makes this season feel not like Good Omens.

Also, it's just. Really weird to me that the events of S1 aren't really referenced at all? Like, Adam isn't mentioned, nor is Warlock. I don't expect them to keep track of the humans they met on the airfield for 20 minutes, but none of it is ever specifically referenced as far as I can tell, beyond Crowley threatening Gabriel. Like, I get that it's been a few years, but the pair caused a big enough disturbance that you'd expect some kind of ripples in their supernatural communities.

Promised by the Narrative (Obvious Chekhov's guns that I will be legitimately upset over if they do not go off)

A sincere apology from Aziraphale to Crowley that doesn't come with the expectation that Crowley will come back to him, but because he deserves an apology, even if the choices Aziraphale made were done with good intentions. Aziraphale does not expect forgiveness, and is shocked when Crowley grants it without hesitation.

A clear declaration of love from Aziraphale, which can't be rationalized away by either of them.

An "I'm Sorry" dance between Aziraphale and Crowley, but with greater sincerity and gravity. The most important piece is that they end up dancing together, which signifies a mutual apology and dedication to come together.

Since kissing is on the table, I expect an actual joyful, mutual kiss between these two assholes.

A shared cottage in South Downs.

Predictions/Theories (just some fun thoughts I've had)

When Adam declared that Satan was not his father, he didn't make himself not the antichrist, but accidentally crowned his human dad the King of Hell. Nobody knows this, because Adam doesn't have a good measure for "normal" supernatural situations, and Mr. Young because he's so "normal" that he explains away all the magical bullshit that's started going down.

When Adam declared that Satan was not his father, he erased Satan altogether. However, this left a vacuum in both power and reality. The defection of both Gabriel and Beelzebub only widens that crack. In an attempt to Fix things, reality is warping the story. Crowley has become leagues more powerful between S1 and S2, as the narrative is trying to force him into the role of his previous boss. Aziraphale is unknowingly being pulled into a similar version on the Other Side, perhaps to replace Gabriel or perhaps to replace God herself, who has been fairly absent in all this. The alterations to their memories or past have come about to keep the narrative running smoothly.

When the Metatron asks Nina whether anybody has ever asked for death, he was actually referring to Death, the sole remaining rider of the apocalypse.

If Maggie is indeed a Plot Device, it would be a fascinating exploration of Free Will to see her become aware of this (cue existential crisis), and then fall in love with Nina on her own terms, rather than because she was written that way.

Hastur will be back. Somehow.

The reason why S2 focuses so much on the supernatural characters is because S3 will be about how the events in S1 have changed the political landscape of heaven and hell. Angels are questioning their roles, demons are yearning for something more. It's scaring upper administration, and then the two most reliable folks in employment run away to alpha centauri. Recruiting Aziraphale and getting him back in line prevents him from becoming a martyr, control the range of his influence. The series reasserts its theme of choice and agency by highlighting that Aziraphale and Crowley aren't that special, they've just had the chance to live and grow, and that the others have free will too, if they want it.

The reason why they wanted to separate Aziraphale and Crowley, is not to get Aziraphale on his own, but to get Crowley on his own. He literally stopped time and made a pocket universe in front of Satan last season. He's powerful and dangerous and somebody wants to see that reigned in.

Wishlist (stuff I desperately want to see)

Crowley getting an audience with God and an opportunity to ask his questions, only to refuse to do so because he's found his own Answers and he no longer needs hers

Aziraphale and Crowley growing more into their book incarnations. Aziraphale becomes confident in his sense of morality, which he developed the hard way through millennia on earth besides humanity. He slowly learns what it means to be loved, unconditionally, but also is better at asserting and maintaining his boundaries. Crowley, still anxious and unwinding, works through his fear of abandonment, providing him opportunities to be kind and gentle and nurturing--all traits that he's aggressively hid since being a demon.

Hand holding. I know that Gaiman was referring to Ineffable Bureaucracy, but I still feel like we'd benefit from meaningful hand holding, especially since that got cut from the adaptation of the book.

Shifted focus away from the supernatural shenanigans, and back onto the humans that actually drive the story.

Cameos from S1 characters (if not a more substantial appearance).

The Four Other Riders of the Apocalypse.

Cursed Thoughts (why I shouldn't be allowed a social platform)

Ineffable Bureaucracy turns up in season 3 because Beelzebub got Gabriel pregnant somehow.

#good omens #good omens spoilers #good omens season 2 #good omens s2 #good omens meta #good omens 2 spoilers #good omens 2 theory #good omens 2 analysis #long post #text

109 notes · View notes