#they make me feel so much more when I read/see it in Chinese

[television-overload]

of our own making

(an X-Files fanfic)

Chapter 3/34 - soft blue sweater

[Read on AO3]

That weekend, it is with giddy excitement that Mulder and Scully spend the day at her apartment up to their eyeballs in paperwork, brochures, and Chinese food.

“Next question: where would we live? Together or separate?”

“Together,” she answers, before thinking she should probably soften that affirmative answer with an indifferent, “if that works for you.”

“It more than works for me,” he says with certainty. “I can ask Frohike for the number of the real estate agent who hooked him up with the lair. Or we could live here, either way.”

This is crazy. They’re moving so fast. What they’re thinking of doing doesn’t even make sense. Everyone will think they’ve well and truly lost their minds, and maybe they have!

“This is giving me a headache,” she admits, feeling suddenly overwhelmed.

“I’ll flag that as one to revisit later,” he says, jotting something down in a notebook. “This communicating thing is a lot of work, huh, Scully? No wonder we don’t do it more often.” He grins at her, more freely than he has in a long time.

She rubs a hand over her tired eyes. “No, it’s good. It’s good. I’m glad we’re doing this, Mulder.”

“Me too.”

He just looks so happy, she can’t help but smile back at him. The knot of uncertainty she’s been harboring as a result of her overthinking dissolves instantly in the radiance of his boyish enthusiasm. He’s all soft edges today, for once out of his G-man uniform. Instead, he wears that soft knit blue sweater she likes so much, and jeans that hug him in all the right places.

His socked feet rest on her coffee table while he flips through various documents, assembling them into binders with an attention to detail that she’s only ever seen him apply to their files. She’s mesmerized.

This might be her life. If they go through with this… He just said he’d live with her. Weekends spent together flash before her eyes, not having to say goodbye after one of their movie nights, just ‘goodnight.’ Takeout containers morph into home-cooked dinners at the table in her kitchen. Him making coffee in the morning. Driving to and from work together…

As much as the thought appeals to her, there’s one tiny detail missing that could put an end to this entire operation before it even begins.

“Mulder?” she asks, inadvertently cutting off whatever rambling he’s been doing while she wasn’t paying attention.

He glances up at her, pushing his glasses back up his nose to keep them from sliding off. The sight almost makes her forget what she was going to ask, as important as it was, but in this case, her concern far outweighs anything else.

“Do you think they’ll buy the co-parenting thing? I mean, I’m not really seeing a precedent for it in any of the literature I’ve looked at. Would they even accept our application?”

He’s quiet for a second. That second stretches into two.

“I’ve been thinking about that.”

She swears the entire block goes silent, not even the sound of a car on the street outside or the hum of heat pumping through her apartment. It makes his words feel heavy. Meaningful. Like she’s just dipped into unfamiliar and dangerous territory without knowing it.

“And...?”

He rubs the back of his neck, obviously struggling to verbalize whatever is going on in that beautiful mind of his.

And then he just outright says it.

“We could get married.”

Her eyes go wide. 

Married.  

“Mulder…”

He puts his hands up, halting her speech. “No, I’m serious. You just said we’d be living together. What’s the difference if we also happen to have a piece of paper that makes it official?” 

There’s that look in his eye, the one he gets when he sits her down for one of his slide presentations. Never could she have imagined he’d have the same look when trying to convince her of marriage. It’s overwhelming.

“Unless,” he pauses, “you think you might meet someone sometime in the future, which is a completely valid concern…”

She has to stop him there. “That’s not it at all. I just– What if this doesn’t work out and we don’t get a baby? You’d be stuck with me and have nothing to show for it.” 

Don’t put all your eggs in one basket, the saying goes. If this fails, she could lose… everything. Is that a risk worth taking? Would he grow to resent her? Would they have to jump through legal hoops to undo all of this if things don’t go their way?

“And you could meet someone too,” she reminds him, “someone that could give you a real family. What then?”

He ducks his head, shaking it in a poor attempt to hide a wry smile. “What’s a real family, anyway?” he counters with a shrug, then grabs her hand. “I can’t think of anyone I’d rather be stuck with than you, Scully.”

Her eyes find his, searching them for something to clue her in to his thought process. Is he serious? Has he lost his mind? She finds nothing but bare honesty in his emerald depths. Bare honesty, and that hope she’s been seeing there since this whole idea came up. It’s a different look for him, but oh how she loves it. She wants to do everything in her power to keep it there.

“Would you believe me if I told you I’ve thought of asking you before?” he asks.

Her brows furrow, and though part of her wants to bolt, to declare this whole evening an error in judgment, she stays, looking at him warily. His thumb runs over her knuckles, soothing, as if he had known her inclination was to flee from this conversation. Stay , his touch says. Stay with me.

She shakes her head, lips quivering in an almost-smile, and says what he always loves to hear her say. “You’re crazy.”

“No, I’m not!” he counters, equally amused and defensive. “When you had cancer, and I had to fight tooth and nail to get to see you in the hospital…”

She swallows at the memory of waking to find him collapsed by the side of her bed, his hand clasping hers like a lifeline.

“Really?”

“Really,” he answers, his smile softening into fondness. “Though I’m pretty sure Bill would have killed me.”

That brings out a laugh, which Scully shyly hides behind her hand as she wipes it across her nose. When had she started tearing up?

“We’ll buy you a helmet and some shoulder pads, then,” she concedes teasingly.

His mouth quirks up in a smile, knowing precisely what is implied by that response.

“Is that a yes?”

She pauses for a moment, eyes locking with his. Is it? Is she about to agree to marry her best friend?

It should be more of a question, but it isn’t. For some reason, this feels like the most logical thing to do.

She nods.

He shifts on the couch, suppressing a smile and squeezing her hand before letting go. “Well alright then…” he says, crossing his arms in front of him for lack of anything better to do with them. “We can go to the courthouse whenever you’re ready. Or, if you want an actual wedding—”

“No,” she says, a little too quickly. “No, the courthouse will be fine.”

“As long as your mom doesn’t pool her money with Bill to order a hit on me,” he jokes.

“She wouldn’t do that,” she says, rolling her eyes. He does bring up an interesting point though, one that fills her with trepidation. “God, we’ll have to tell her, won’t we? And your mom. And Skinner .”

The dread increases with each name listed.

“We’ll figure that out as we go,” he assures her, placing a calming hand on her knee. “For now, this is just between us. Until you decide otherwise.”

“Just between us,” she agrees, letting his words melt her worries away.

 -.-.-

He had lingered for a while in her doorway when the time came for him to go back to his apartment. It was awkward, but not in a way that might cause alarm in light of what they’d just agreed to do. 

No, as crazy as it might sound, this was one decision neither of them could imagine regretting. The gravity of the situation, though, was what led to the uncharacteristic silence and shyness as she bade him farewell with an impulsive, last-minute hug. He had smiled, and walked backwards out the door, maintaining eye contact until she slowly shut the door between them.

She lies awake in her bed hours later, unable to sleep.

This morning, she was a perpetually single federal agent with a pipe dream of being a mother. Now, she’s engaged to her partner, and there’s partially filled out adoption paperwork with both his and her names on them burning a hole through her top desk drawer.

The Dana from seven years ago would tell her she’s lost her mind.

But then, that Dana also wouldn’t know how important her crackpot new partner would end up being in her life. Skeptical as she was, she’d hardly believe it anyway.

Engaged . She’s always thought about this day, how it would feel to have a man ask for her hand in marriage. She can say without a doubt that this is not how she expected it to go, but the disappointment one might expect in her situation is absent. They may not be going about this in the traditional way, but it is nothing less than what she’d expect with Mulder. 

He had long since rewritten her thoughts on what a normal life was supposed to look like. Her eyes had been opened, the possibilities now seemingly endless instead of linear and predictable. Despite the heartache she has endured over the years, it’s worth it to live with a more complete view of the world. Sometimes, it feels like she and Mulder are the only ones who can see it.

Sighing, she rolls over, her gaze settling on her nightstand.

She shouldn’t. He could be sleeping.

All the same, the corded device beckons her. It’s a temptation she’s familiar with, although tonight it is particularly strong and irresistible.

Don’t, Dana. It’s not real. He’s not really your– Give him space.

She picks up the phone anyway.

Before she can even change her mind, she hears the line connect, and she greets him in the way he’s come to expect.

“Mulder, it’s me.”

She can almost hear him smile on the other end of the call, and all thoughts of this being a bad idea fly from her mind. 

“Well if it isn’t the soon-to-be Mrs. Spooky Mulder,” he says jovially, sounding much too awake for her to have interrupted his sleep.

She rolls her eyes, but can’t help the flutter in her chest at his words. At the timbre of his voice, lazy and drawn out at this late hour. He can be endearing when he wants to be. A real sap at times.

“Hey, Scully. We’re engaged.”

“I know,” she speaks into the phone, curling in toward it and holding it with both hands up against her ear. Her pillow welcomes her into its embrace, and she sinks into it, grinning into the covers.

“We’re gonna give poor Skinner a heart attack,” he says with a laugh.

Their poor boss. He must have had no idea what he was getting into when he was assigned to oversee the X-Files. 

“He’ll get over it,” she says dismissively.

She hears Mulder chuckle a little, the breathy sound tickling her ear. She can tell he’s tipping back in his rickety desk chair in his apartment by the rhythmic creak that sounds, and she pictures him with his feet up on the desk, maybe spinning his basketball around idly in his hands.

“I don’t know, this might break his heart, Scully,” he teases.

Scully rolls her eyes. “Oh, would you stop that? He does not have a thing for me.”

“He absolutely does, and so does every guy in the building.”

She almost asks, ‘Every guy?’ but thankfully catches herself before uttering those words. Sometimes she wonders, but then everything with Diana had shaken what she thought she knew about him. They are still working on getting back to where they were before. It’s far too fresh for her to make any suppositions about where they stand now.

They fall into a brief silence, each waiting for the other to speak first.

“So, to what do I owe the pleasure?” he finally asks, when it becomes clear she won’t tell him why she called unless prompted.

She sighs. “I can’t sleep.”

He hums softly in amusement, the sound rattling over the phone. “I don’t know if I’m really the expert you want to be talking to on that particular subject, Scully. Just what exactly do you want me to do about it?” he teases.

“Just talk to me,” she says softly, as if speaking quietly will somehow lessen the embarrassment she feels.

“Ah, so you want me to bore you to sleep. Got it,” he says, taking it in stride. “Which cryptid would you like to hear about tonight, Miss Scully?”

She closes her eyes, her lips tightening into a tired smile. “No monsters, Mulder. You know I find those way too fascinating.”

“Ha ha, Scully,” he says, laughing at her obvious joke. “Okay. How about this? There was this kid at my school growing up. Mark. One of twelve siblings in the same family.”

“Twelve?” she asks incredulously.

“Mm-hmm. All of them adopted.”

Her smile widens, and she burrows further into her pillow, tucking her comforter over her shoulders. She loves these little glimpses she gets into his old life, rare as they are. She doesn’t have to ask why he chose to tell her this one tonight of all nights. His motives are as clear as can be.

“They’d go to Disneyland every summer, all twelve of them plus their parents,” he continues. “Sam and I were so jealous. One of the girls was in the same grade as her, so we all hung out a lot. Well, not all of us. With that many siblings, there were bound to be some you just didn’t get along with. We had fun, though.”

“How’d they afford Disneyland with twelve children?” she asks sleepily.

“It was Martha’s Vineyard, Scully,” he answers simply. “They were filthy rich.”

She hums, feeling herself begin to relax at the soothing monotone of his voice. The line falls silent, but she knows he’s still there. She can hear the gentle sound of his breathing. She allows it to lull her into a state of restfulness.

“After Sam disappeared, it didn’t seem fair. He had so many siblings, while I lost the only one I’d ever have. I stayed away from him for a while after that. He was one of the only people at school that didn’t treat me like some criminal or freak after she was abducted, but I couldn’t bear the thought of seeing him or his little sister anymore. It was too big a reminder of what I was missing.”

Scully’s heart aches as she listens. This bedtime story doesn’t have a happy ending, she knows. Though her eyes are closed, she feels a tear leak onto her pillow, hurting for the lonely little boy her partner had once been. She wishes, like she has so many times before, that she could have been there for him then like she is now.

His voice returns, crackling over the line. “Eventually I started going over there again,” he continues, “before they moved away. They were kind to me. Treated me like one of their own. It didn’t make up for Sam being gone, of course, but at least I wasn’t completely alone. And it taught me an important lesson, one I think I’m only just beginning to understand.”

“What’s that, Mulder?” Scully slurs, barely keeping awake but wanting to know the answer—this epiphany he’s had. She has to know how he can tell this story without breaking down into tears as she would if it were her own.

“You can choose your family,” he answers finally, as if it were the obvious conclusion to this story. “They might not have been connected by blood, but Mark’s family was connected by something stronger. Love .”  

He breathes, perhaps lost in the memory of his childhood friend. Perhaps he’s contemplating the great mysteries and joys of the universe. Either could be possible for this deeply philosophical man.

“It seemed to work out pretty good for them.”

Scully’s heart blooms with emotion, her eyes filling with tears.

“It’s time I choose my family, Scully,” he says softly, his voice lowering to just above a whisper. “I hope one day I’ll find out what happened to my sister. I– I still need to have some closure, I think. But it feels good to hope for something else too, for a change. Something more than piecing together a family that was never together in the first place. So, thank you. You’re the one who showed me it was possible. I think I owe you more than everything, at this point.”

She smiles softly into her pillow, reminded of the feel of his breath on her lips that day in his hallway. It’s a thought she has come back to innumerable times since it happened, and though there have been some shake ups since then, it still brings her comfort.

She allows the memory to wash over her, covering her with a blanket of warmth and security.

And finally, she succumbs to the pull of sleep. 

-.-.-

It’s quiet. He listens, recognizing the subtle change in her breathing, and he knows she’s fallen asleep. He could hang up, call it a night, but he selfishly isn’t ready to.

There’s still one more thing he wants to say.

“I choose you, Scully,” he whispers into the phone, too cowardly to say it when she might hear him. “You’re my family. And I can’t wait to see how it grows from here.”

~~~

Lovely tag list ♡: [if you would like to be added or removed, let me know!]

@today-in-fic @ao3feed-msr @agent-troi @angegova @baronessblixen @calimanc @captainsolocide @cutemothman @danasculls @deathsbestgirl @edierone @enigmaticxbee @figureofdismay @frogsmulder @hippocampouts @invidiosa @monaiargancoconutsoy @numinousmysteries @primrose19 @randomfoggytiger @skelavender @skylarksong @slippinmickeys @stephy-gold @teenie-xf @the-redhead-in-a-dress @vincentsleftear @whovianderson

#msr #txf #x files #xf fanfic #mulder and scully #my fanfiction #fox mulder #dana scully #of our own making #ooom #msr adoption fic #adoption

[letstrywritingmaybe]

I should really start using the bookmark feature on ao3, but I’m never logged on when I’m reading

Addition: I really would like more fics where Shiho is also portrayed as a princess and Shinichi is still the prince. I get that she does fit the role of the wicked witch and while I do like those stories, I’m a bigger fan of seeing things that challenge what we believe. Like yes there’s a reason why certain themes and such are popular in fanon, but I love when I read fics that break the mold. The other is them both purposely choosing to stay as CoAi despite there being an antidote and letting their peers know the truth of their identity. There’s so many different stories out there that we haven’t told, the possibilities are endless. But I just like knowing that no matter what, they’re together and in love. There are no bad endings in my world (we are not gonna talk about kaishi) even if it’s not a true happily ever after I usually go for, it’s enough that they’re together. Anyways, just keep writing your stories. Even if it’s the same idea, or a crazy different one. I love that we can create so many verses and share them with each other <3

#cynful babbles #plus I usually like to keep my fangirling and writing separate #but I swear all the fics I would bookmark are in Chinese #I am obsessed. it’s home to me okay. I fell for this series in Taiwan #they make me feel so much more when I read/see it in Chinese #even if it takes me longer to read cause I’m about that traditional life #I’ve been in a weird mood as of late but what’s new. it’s the colder months. but thanksgiving will be here soon…

[avis-writeshq]

heyyy omg I love your writings so much! congrats on your latest milestone, it's DESERVED 👏 can I pls request track one with spencer reid where he gets an epiphany and decides that he wants to propose to his girlfriend? just superrrr cute and fluffy 😍 thanks a lot!!

glue song – spencer reid

summary: “but you’re here, and so i love you.” in which spencer realises that he wants to spend the rest of his life with you. pairing: s5!spencer reid x fem!reader genre: established relationship, fluff warnings: spencer in a knee brace (tell me why that’s attractive. why does he look good at his worst. face card never declines), he’s genuinely obsessed with you, not proof read oops a/n: thank you so much anon !!!! i’m so sorry it took so long to post; i kept changing and editing it hahaha i hope you enjoy it !! wc: 1.05k

“Careful watch your– no, pivot a little, pivot–” 

“I am pivoting! There’s nowhere to pivot to! Why is it so messy?”

You suppress a grimace as you manage to somehow squeeze your way through Spencer’s tiny doorway and into his apartment, the shoe rack on the side dangerously close to his damaged knee. You stumble a little as Spencer grips your shoulders tightly for support, his other hand holding onto a crutch. 

“Maybe we should move into a bigger apartment,” you muse, helping him to the couch. Your gaze shifts to his injured knee, your face falling. “Does it hurt?”

“Only when I think about it. Which is pretty much all the time,” Spencer says, wincing as he finally collapses against the cool leather cushions. “Thank you for doing this.”

You look almost offended at his words as you brush his hair out of his face and into a makeshift ponytail. “Did you think that I wouldn’t?”

He hums as he feels the way your fingers pull lightly at his hair, your nails scraping against his scalp. “Thought you’d get tired of me. After, you know, everything.”

“None of that was your fault,” you remind him swiftly. “This–” you gesture to his knee– “isn’t either.”

He softens, leaning his cheek on your shoulder. You’ve been there for him through everything and he knows what specifically it is you’re referring to. He could see it from the moment his doctors informed you that he wouldn’t take the vicodin they had prescribed to him to soothe his discomfort. His thought process makes sense; he didn’t want to risk it. Regardless, he was left with a growing pain in his leg that didn’t shake even after taking toradol. 

“I’d never get tired of you,” you clarify, squeezing his hands. “You’re too pretty to get tired of.”

He lets out a proper laugh as he squeezes back. “You’re funny.”

“I’m being serious!”

He laughs again, shaking his head adamantly. “Liar.”

“When have I ever lied to you?”

Spencer beams in your direction, pressing kisses against the soft of your jaw. “You’re right.”

A triumphant smile spreads across your face at his words. “Exactly.”

*** 

From his spot on the couch, Spencer watches guiltily as you hustle and bustle about in the kitchen, grabbing plates and filling them to the brim with the food you ordered from the Chinese place he loves. He feels bad seeing you work so hard looking after him; especially when you have your own workload to take care of. He doesn’t even notice that you’ve already placed his portion of food in front of him until you whack him lightly on his head with some napkins. 

“Stop it. I know what you’re thinking.” You shoot him a half-hearted glare as you snap open your chopsticks. “I want to do this. I truly don’t mind.”

“You’re already doing so much,” he insists, “I’m okay, angel, I swear.”

You are not easily convinced and you point to the list of things the doctor suggested you to do in order to ensure Spencer’s speedy recovery. “I have a responsibility, Walter. What will your team do without you?”

“They’ll live,” he assures, reaching a hand out to massage the muscles by your shoulders. “I think you’ve seen me naked more the past two weeks than you have our entire relationship.”

“Well it’s not my fault that you need to bathe,” you argue, stabbing at your noodles. “You love it really.”

His cheeks burn with embarrassment at the accusation. “I do not! It’s humiliating.”

“It’s nothing I haven’t seen before,” you soothe, smiling at him. “Besides, it’ll only be like this for a little while longer.”

“If you consider five months to be ‘a little while longer’,” he quips as he shovels food into his mouth.

You let out a laugh, not finding offence is his sarcastic blow. He thinks you’re a blessing and he figures that you definitely are. Who else can deal with the problems of him being, well, him aside from you? Spencer doesn’t know what he would do without you. How could he when you manage to push all the darkness and negativity away?

“I’m lucky to have you,” he says finally, his gaze on your face. “You’re so good to me.”

You hum in response, wiping your mouth and curling into his good side, draping an arm over his middle. “That’s true. You’re good to me, too.”

He brings his hand over your waist and kisses the side of your face in an act of reciprocation. “You’re beautiful.”

Heat crawls up your neck to your ears at the sudden compliment and you can’t help the silly bashful smile that pulls at your lips. Your mouth opens and closes, deciding on what to respond with before you settle with a simple, “Thank you.”

It’s the honest truth. There’s a look about you that tells him that you don’t believe it, but he doesn’t say anything more to try and convince you. He tells it to you everyday; he’s sure that you’ll end up accepting the compliments more readily. Your being beautiful might have been what had drawn him to you in the first place. Although he isn’t entirely sure. He recalls a certain folktale about invisible stings and how it was tying him to you. There’s something pretty about that thought, the mere idea that you were made for him and he was lucky enough to actually hold you in his arms. 

You’ve turned the television on now, a romance movie playing on the screen with familiar actors. It’s supposed to be a comedy, at least that was what the description on the DVD said, about the main male lead reminiscing about his year that he spent with some manic pixie dream girl. Spencer doesn’t understand how that could be comedic but you seem to enjoy it. 

Spencer has tuned out the movie now, finding entertainment in the reactions you have. Your face morphs into different emotions with each dramatic scene and in that moment Spencer realises one very important thing. 

“I’m gonna marry you one day,” he whispers, his breath tickling the shell of your ear. 

“What was that?” you ask obliviously and you lift your eyes to look up at him. 

“Nothing,” he dismisses, pressing his lips to your forehead. “Just keep watching the movie, angel.”

reblogs are always appreciated!

events page

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader fluff #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x reader angst #spencer reid angst #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader fluff #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds x reader angst #criminal minds fluff #matthew gray gubler x reader #matthew gray gubler #matthew gray gubler fluff #matthew gray gubler x reader fluff #matthew gray gubler angst #matthew gray gubler x reader angst #mgg #mgg x reader #mgg x reader fluff #mgg x reader angst

[indigovigilance]

The Final Fifteen is about Terry Pratchett's Death

read on Ao3

The final fifteen is obviously a major plot point, and serves a role in a story that was written long before Terry Pratchett was ever diagnosed with Alzheimer’s. But the scene itself wasn’t written until just a few years ago, during the writing of Season 2. In fact, the scene came about during a park bench conversation between Neil Gaiman and John Finnemore.

Others have noted that the non-romantic kiss that signals the story moving into the third act is a Neil Gaiman staple. The function of such a kiss, from Gaiman’s perspective, is to communicate.

In 2023 we are seeing a lot of stories written by men, for men, about men who are best friends and discover that their friendship can go deeper than the norms of society would usually allow; that platonic and romantic love are not so far apart, and perhaps the better word for a relationship that can be described this way is intimacy.

Neil Gaiman has made it clear in interviews that his friendship with Terry Pratchett was deeply intimate. They began collaborating on what would become Good Omens in the 1980’s, endured a tumultuous experience together through the first publication, wherein Neil offered to martyr himself on behalf of Terry if the book failed, and then spent the better part of two decades touring the world, meeting the people who loved their work. Neil would even off-handedly remark that Terry’s fans were so cheerful, and Neil’s seemed like they were ready to kill themselves; wouldn’t it be nice if they got married? From the outside, it looks very much as if Terry was Aziraphale-coded, and Neil was Crowley-coded, working together in an unexpected partnership to make the world a little bit more tolerable for the humans inhabiting it. I am not conjecturing that Neil and Terry had romantic inclinations the way their fictional characters do, but I think it is fair to say that their opposites-attract intimacy became an important part of who each of them were.

In 2007 Terry Pratchett was diagnosed with posterior cortical atrophy, a rare form of Alzheimer’s. As the disease progressed, he began to lose himself, and knew that the person he used to be was slipping away. He wanted to end his life on his own terms, and die as himself, but England did not and still does not allow for voluntary euthanasia or assisted suicide. He advocated for the right to die but never achieved it, and ultimately succumbed to the disease in 2015. Neil Gaiman has spoken a lot on the topic of death, and one answer of his that resonated with me reads:

Mostly it feels terrible. It even feels terrible when it’s someone who has been in a lot of pain for a long time or has not really been there for a long time and you know that Death has in some ways been a blessing: suddenly you are mourning the whole person. 

It doesn’t get easier as you age. It gets stranger. The point where you realise how many people you used to know and like who aren’t there any longer, and you cannot talk to them or see them or laugh with them is painful in a way that I had never expected. The first time that someone you had a romantic relationship with dies and you realise that there had been moments both of you shared and now you are the sole custodian of those moments and one day you will be gone and they will be lost forever is peculiarly strange and hard. 

~~~

The entire show is seeded with references to Terry Pratchett, but the most important one is the one that’s missing. Neil Gaiman cameoed as a sleeping moviegoer in S1E4, but a long time ago, he and Terry had discussed cameoing as sushi restaurant-goers, because sushi was weirdly prominent in the book. That cameo would have been in S1E1. But when it came time to do it, Neil couldn’t. Not without Terry. 

Neil: I was gonna say our location is a Chinese restaurant we’d had turned into a sushi restaurant. So Terry and I, Terry Pratchett and I, had a standing… not even a standing joke, just a standing plan, that we were going to have sushi - there was going to be a scene in Good Omens where sushi was eaten and we were gonna be extras, we were gonna sit in the background, eating sushi while it was done. And I was so looking forward to this and, so I wrote this scene with it being sushi, even though Terry was gone, with that in mind and I thought: Oh, I’ll sit and I’ll eat lots of sushi as an extra, this will be my scene as an extra, I’ll just be in the background. And then, on the day, or a couple of days before, I realized that I couldn’t do it.

Douglas: You never told me this before either. I might have pushed you into doing it, had I known. I think you were right not to tell me.

Neil: I was keeping it to me self ‘cause I was always like: Oh, maybe I’ll be… this will be my cameo. And then I couldn’t. I was just so sad, ‘cause Terry wasn’t there. And it was probably the day that I missed Terry the most of all of the filming - it was just this one scene ‘cause it was written for Terry and all of the sushi meals we’d ever had and all of the strange way that sushi ran through Good Omens.

~~~

In the Final Fifteen, it is clear that Crowley and Aziraphale want to stay together. They love each other. They each know that the other loves them. There’s nothing that needs to be said, no convincing that their bond is true and real and precious.

But Aziraphale has to go to Heaven, and Crowley cannot follow him there.

I cannot speculate what it must have been like for Neil to endure losing a friend who, though I’m sure he desperately wanted to still be in his life, he also knew that life had become a burden to him, and grieved that Terry was not able to choose the time and manner of his departure from this Earth. This sort of complex grief, we fan-ficcers know, is the kind that is often best processed through story-telling. 

I think that what we see Crowley going through in the Final Fifteen, alongside its importance to the story arc of Good Omens overall, is Neil processing his grief at losing his friend Terry Pratchett, and even the kiss, that violent, terrible, awful kiss, was the symbolic representation of Neil saying goodbye.

#neil gaiman #terry pratchett #aziraphale #crowley #good omens #good omens 2 #good omens meta #ivoc #this meta ended up being only about 2/3 the length of my usual metas and somehow that feels appropriate because Terry's life ended too soon #and the jarring brevity of this piece parallels that feeling of sudden unexpected loss #for me anyways I don't know about you guys #if this made your eyes even slightly moist you are obligated to reblog to help someone else feel their feels #I don’t make the rules #but them is the rules #blessed by Beelzebub

[freedomfireflies]

I Love You*

Summary: The second part to Yellow* and One for the Money*

The one where you tell Mr. Styles you love him and you wonder if he'll say it back.

Word Count: 3k

Content Warning: 18+, smut, blow job, multiple orgasms, brief Daddy kink, Sir kink

I love you.

Three little words that feel so big in such a small room. 

Mr. Styles remains still. Unmoving. So quiet, you wonder if you actually said the words aloud or if you only thought them.

But you can feel his heart racing. Can hear the subtle hitch in his breath as the seconds tick by. And you know, undoubtedly, that he heard you.

You clear your throat. “You don’t…you don’t have to say it back. I just wanted you to know.”

There’s another long lull between your admission and his response. He shifts in your arms before finally he finally nods once.

And that suffices as his reply.

Truth be told, you feel relieved. You aren’t even sure why you said it at all, much less now. And after such an intimate scene. Especially when you knew he most likely wouldn’t say it back.

But you don’t blame him for that. Mr. Styles has never been the overly romantic, affectionate type. You don’t expect that to change just for you. You’re happy with the relationship you have. You like that you stay at his apartment more than your own. You like that he dedicates his free time to you. And you like that you work together and play together.

He’s more than just your partner and your boss. He’s…yours.

“Sir?” you whisper, and you feel his hand tighten around yours. “Are you all right?”

He nods again. Quickly. Strained. “I’m fine, Peach. Are you?”

You nod, too. “Mhm. I’m better now. Promise.” A beat. “Could we start the scene again?”

He lets out a sigh and finally looks up to catch your eye. “Maybe later. We’ll see.”

You pout and feel that anxious twist in your stomach return. You don’t want to end this moment on a sour note. The note where you had to safe word and make him stop only to tell him you love him and surely freak him out. You want to go back. Start it all over again. Do it right.

He notices your frown and tilts his head. “Peach,” he warns. “Don’t.”

“But—”

“I said we’ll see,” he repeats sternly. “If you’re good, I’ll consider it. But if you want to argue with me, you can sit here, achy and dripping, with nobody to touch you.”

You bite back a whine. “Yes, Sir.”

“Good girl.” He pats your hip. “I’ve got a few more emails to answer before dinner. If I go, will you be all right until I’m done?”

“Yes, Sir.”

He takes hold of your chin. Firm. “I want your honesty.”

“You have it.”

He hesitates. There’s a tension here, between you. An unspoken strain and an edge you’d give anything to smooth out.

You can tell he wants to resolve it. He’s a problem solver. It’s in his nature to fix things. And that’s how this whole arrangement was started in the first place.

But how can he fix what he knows he broke?

He kisses your cheek. Quickly. Gently. “Be good while I’m gone.”

And with that, he leaves you. He turns off the camera, puts his clothes back on, and disappears into his home office.

You spend the next several hours trying not to stare at his closed door. Or thinking about how it ended. What you said. You delete the footage off the SD card and vow to never speak of this day again.

He feels so far away, even if it’s only a few hundred feet. But there’s an ocean between you now and you are lost in his sea. 

Dinner is good. You order Chinese and it’s delivered right as he’s exiting his office for the night. You do your best to put things back to the way they were before. You talk—a lot—and he listens. He’s quiet. Nodding along without much commentary. He picks at his food and you know something is still on his mind.

You hate it.

He cleans up while you go take a shower. You take your time, allowing the water to wash away your regret. Make you clean again. Until each mistake has been swept down the drain.

The two of you will be okay. You have to be.

When you get out, you find him on the bed. He’s got his reading glasses on and a book in his hand and he looks…

Ethereal.

You’ve always been attracted to him. How could you not be, when he has a jaw like that and abs that could grate cheese? But somehow, he looks even better like this—relaxed. At peace. He’s still wearing his fancy slacks and white button up. But the sleeves have been rolled to his elbows and he’s left the first few buttons undone. 

You step further into the bedroom and he doesn’t seem to notice. He’s engrossed in his novel, glasses perched on the tip of his perfect nose as he flips to the next page. And you smile. Your insides already aching as you crawl onto the end of the mattress and allow your towel to fall away.

When the bed dips, he glances up. Briefly. He notices the feral look in your eye and the way you’re moving toward him. He knows what you want and thankfully, he doesn’t deny you.

He looks back to his book. “How was your shower?”

“Good,” you murmur. You reach for his belt and slip it through each loop until you can toss it toward the floor.

He’s quiet.

“How’s your book?” you ask and he hums.

“It’s all right. Not entirely helpful but I like the subject.”

You grin. You adore when he sounds studious. “That’s good.” You pull his zipper down and reach inside his briefs. 

Still, he doesn’t so much as flinch. He reads and he pretends as though you aren’t currently dragging your palm along his hardening cock. He pretends your tits aren’t mere inches from his grasp and he pretends that he can’t see the way you’ve already begun to drip.

You take him in your mouth. Your tongue is wet and ready and you swing your leg over his thigh in order to brace yourself against his lap and take him fully. He’s large. Incredibly large and you forget that sometimes until you feel the way he curves down your throat. 

You pull back and spit only to watch the way it drips down his length until you can smear it around the way you want.

“Peach,” you hear him say and you look up. He moves the book aside to see you. “What are you doing?”

“What does it look like?” 

He reaches down and pinches your cheek. “Watch it,” he warns and he’s strict but somehow kind. “I thought I told you to wait.”

“I did wait,” you argue before sucking on his tip. You pop off and lick your lips. “All day. Couldn’t wait any longer.”

“Hm.” He moves his hand to the back of your head and tugs you away. “I’m not sure I should let you.”

“…why?” You straighten up. “I’m okay now. I want to do this. And you never got to finish—”

“Peach—”

“—which I know isn’t the point,” you amend quickly, remembering what he said before. “I know. But I want to make you finish. I want to make you feel good. Especially after what you did for me.”

He frowns now. Sighs. Takes off his glasses and sets down his book. “I’m your dominant and your partner. It is my job to take care of you. I don’t do it because I want something in return and my kindness is not transactional. I care about you. I want you to be okay. Always.”

I care about you isn’t exactly an I love you but it still makes you smile. Really, really big.

“I know,” you whisper. You squeeze his thigh. “But I feel…edged.”

He smirks. “Do you?”

“Mhm.” You dip back down and drag your tongue up from his balls. You notice his jaw tick. “And if you really want to take care of me and make sure I’m okay…you’ll cum in my mouth.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes, Sir.”

He considers this, fingers tapping over the hard cover of his book. Then, he nods once, and slips his glasses back on. “All right. I’ll let you have your way just this once. But once you’re through, you’re to get into this bed and go to sleep. Is that understood?”

You nod eagerly. “Yes, Sir.”

“Good girl. Go ahead.”

With that, you continue your sucking and fondling while he continues reading his novel. The bedroom is eerily silent except for the loud echo of your wet, enthusiastic lapping at the large cock sitting proudly on your tongue. And you wouldn’t have it any other way. Even if he won’t give you your own orgasm before bed, you’re content to have him just like this.

It doesn’t take long until he’s twitching in your mouth. He doesn’t look at you or watch the way your cheeks hollow or the way his balls look in your pretty hands, but you know he’s desperate to. You can tell by the way he turns the page. The way he grips the book and tries incredibly hard not to rip it in half as he moves to the next chapter. 

You don’t slow. You keep going, even as his legs flex beneath you. As his chest takes in labored breaths. You want to get him there and he subtly nudges his leg further into your cunt to feel your arousal smear across his skin. 

You do everything you know he likes, even though the camera is off. You suck and squeeze and give him everything you know he likes. Because this performance is just for him. The way you moan, the way you swallow, the way you bob and take more of him than you think you ever have before.

You’re his good girl. His investment, his toy, his.

And moments before he finally releases himself all down your throat, he tosses the book aside, grabs a fistful of your hair, and yanks you off.

“Get on,” he grits and tugs you closer.

You don’t need to be told twice. You scoot forward and line him up just so before he takes hold of your hips and helps you sink down. Things move quickly and he doesn’t have the patience to wait any longer. 

And it’s beautiful, this moment. The way he stretches you open. And even if there’s a slight burn from the intrusion of his thick cock, you revel in the pain. Both of you groaning the moment you feel it.

And you know he won’t be able to hold off much longer.

“How did it taste, Peach, hm?” he asks as he fucks up into you. “How did it feel to have me in your mouth?”

“Good,” you pant. You claw at his curls. “So good, Sir—”

“Yeah?” He slaps his hand against your ass and you mewl. “Like to take my cock, don’t you? Like to be my dirty little slut—"

“Yes—”

“Like to feel me down your throat…have me cum all over your tongue.”

You make too many noises and he reaches up to pull your lip with his teeth. He kisses you and groans into your mouth and this is what sex should be. Rough and hard but filled with adoration.

“What a fucking whore,” he groans. He tugs at your hips. Watches the bulge in your belly with every thrust. “Begging to suck my cock, wanting to make Daddy feel good…guess I don’t give your mouth enough things to do, hm?”

You shake your head and wilt in his hold. He rarely refers to himself with that nickname and hearing it now almost tips you over.

“So fucking wet,” he exhales and you look down to watch with him. “S’fucking pathetic, isn’t it? Didn’t even have to touch you to have you dripping.”

He’s right. He always is.

He pinches your clit. Takes your nipple in his mouth and lets his large hands scratch down your back—your shoulders blades, your spine, your ass. And you have never felt safer than here in this moment with him.

“Cum,” he says, and he nips at your skin until it’s littered in marks and memories.

“Cum,” he whispers, and he pulls on your hair and wraps it around his fist to bare your throat to his teeth.

“Cum,” he pleads, and he kisses you—hard—until the room is spinning and you finally let go.

You unravel together. A collection of moans and cries and tangled limbs as you make a mess of each other. And you don’t care—about any of it. About what was said earlier, about what wasn’t said, about the way he looked when you said it.

You cling to his strong shoulders and you kiss him hard and you indulge in the feel of him dripping from your cunt.

But he’s not through. He pulls you off his cock and flips you onto your knees until your ass in the air.

You feel his tongue. Dragging up your cunt, tasting the remains of his cum, your cum, everything. He spanks you—hard. Paints his mark across your skin and leaves it there just so he can admire it.

“Say it,” he hisses and you suck in a sharp breath.

“Wha…what?”

“Say it,” he says. He spanks you again and nips at your pussy. “Say you love me.”

You clutch the duvet and your thighs are shaking. Your mind feels fuzzy. “I…”

Another slap to your ass and you’re overstimulated and wildly sensitive. He fucks his tongue into your dripping hole and grunts at the way you keen and you’ve never felt this kind of beautiful confusion.

“Say it.” He holds your thighs open and nearly suffocates himself as he mouths at you. “Fucking tell me you love me. Tell me again.”

You shake your head. You don’t understand. “Harry…”

Wrong. He slips his fingers inside and fucks his cum back into you. Fast. Lewd. Loud. “Come on, Peach. I know you want to. Know you do….so say it.”

And maybe this is a trick. Maybe this is some cruel, sadistic game just to make you lose but you can’t think straight when he’s this close. When he’s bending your body to his salacious intentions and treating you like a toy.

“I love you,” you whisper. You screw your eyes shut. “I do, I love you, Sir.”

He curses. Groans. “Again.”

“I love you.” You fall onto the bed stomach first but he doesn’t stop. He flips you around and he looks at you as he eats you. “I love you, Mr. Styles.”

His lashes flutter. You reach for his hair and tug it with your fist and he moans into your cunt before drinking you down. Spitting on your pussy just to smear it around and thrust it back into you.

You arch. “Shit, I love you—I—”

You cum again and he enjoys every second of it. He pulls you as close to his face as he can get you and lives inside the sound of your strained whimpers.

And when you finish, he leaves your clit with a satisfied pop and licks his lips. You watch him crawl up your body until he’s settled atop your chest and you smile lazily as he reaches up to run his hand down your cheek.

“My sweet Peach,” he whispers and kisses you hard. You taste everything. You taste him. You taste the desperation woven alongside his tongue. He kisses you until you can’t breathe and he only stops so he can stare at you a little longer.

You brush your fingers through the damp curls along the back of his neck. “That was fun.”

He’s quiet. Studying you closely and you feel as though you’re being graded on a test you didn’t know you were taking. 

Then, he murmurs, “I don’t say it.”

Your heart skips. You don’t have to ask what he means. “I…I know. It’s okay. I don’t expect you—”

“I don’t say it because I’m afraid I can’t live up to it,” he continues. He ignores you. “Because the last time I did, I couldn’t deliver on what it meant. My love didn’t look the same as hers did. I said it. And she still left.”

Your other hand finds his shirt. You trail your touch over the exposed skin of his chest and you feel the way his heart races. “I know.”

His brows furrow. “I want to say it,” he says softly. “I want to. For you. Because I do. And I don’t want this to feel unfair—”

“It doesn’t,” you assure him. “I promise. I…I figured you wouldn’t say it back and I was okay with that. Because it doesn’t change the fact that I do.”

Another beat. “I’m worried you didn’t mean it.”

“What?”

He sighs and sweeps his thumb along your jaw. “You’d been anxious, and you were scared. You said none of your other partners had ever been kind to you in moments like that, and…sex is intimate. It can change the chemistry in your brain and maybe…maybe you didn’t mean it—”

“I did.” You grab his face and you make him listen. “Harry, I meant it. I still mean it. And I’ll mean it tomorrow, too. And the next day. And the next.”

His expression softens.

“And I meant it long before today. I wanted to tell you tons of times and I didn’t because…I don’t know. I didn’t want to scare you,” you admit and you both smile. “It is a big word. But it’s just a word. It means nothing without action. And even if you can’t say it, you show it every day. And that’s all I could really want.”

He dips down and nuzzles his nose against yours. “I don’t deserve you, Peach.”

“No,” you tease. “No, you don’t.”

You kiss again and his body feels good against yours. His heart feels good against yours.

Then, he exhales, "I love you."

And you don't say anything. But you smile. Because you know everything he's giving up just to offer you what you want to hear.

Minutes go by before you finally change the subject and say, "You know, I kind of wish we'd been recording all that. That would have been some great content."

He laughs, relieved, and the sound is so incredibly beautiful. 

“Next time,” he says and you grin as he holds you closer. “Tonight…your love belongs to me.”

HAPPY VALENTINE'S DAY CUTIES!!! Granted, this wasn't exactly a Valentine's blurb BUT LISTEN IT WAS CLOSE ENOUGH!!!!! ASLFJSF

I LOVE YOU ALL SO MUCH and hope you're having the best day! No matter what it looks like or who it's with ♥️

~ Full One for the Money Masterlist

~ Full Masterlist

Credit for the incredible and perfectly peachy dividers to @firefly-graphics!!

Taglist: @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @keepdrivingkisses @swiftmendeshoran @tiredinwinter @straightontilmornin @justlemmeadoreyou @harrysdaydreams @tiaamberxx @peterparker1sgf @myfavfanficsever @littlenatilda @vamprry @fdl305 @tchalametishot @ssaama @indierockgirrl @likeapplejuicenpeach @vane28282 @lukesaprince @closureesny @lc-fics @0nlythrowharrybeaux @hannahdressedasabanana @iguessyourejustwhatineeded @dylanobandposts21 @butdaddyilovehim-hs @floral-recs @itjustkindahappenedreally @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @kathb59 @iamjustaholeforyousir @harrystylesfan2686 @cherryluvhobi @caynonmoondreams @daphnesutton @ilovec0lbybr0ck @definegirlfriendsx @allthelovehes @amiets2 @nega-omega @sucker-4-angst @hsgucci94 @gills-lounge @kennedy-brooke @avasversion @stylesfever @saturnheartz

#harry #harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles blurb #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fan #harry edward styles #harry styles smut #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #softdom!harry #smut #ceo!harry #ceorry #one for the money harry #harry and peach #harry styles one shot #blurb #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fluff #fluff #valentine's blurb!

[bunnyteetharry]

Boyfriend

summary: pranking Harry with the “calling your husband boyfriend” trend

warnings: none? light spanking, use of brat

pairing: husband!arry x wife!reader

————⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚｡⋆ —————⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚｡⋆ —————⋆ ˚｡⋆

It was late into the afternoon

You were sprawled on the couch bundled up in your favorite sage blanket with the TV playing on low volume as background noise

You were scrolling mindlessly on TikTok when you came across a video of a women calling her husband boyfriend right in front of him and getting the funniest reaction, you were dying to do this to Harry and what better timing then to do it now that he’s been more at home since taking a mild break from touring and going to the studio here and there when he feels like it

You knew he was in the home library catching up on his tbr stack that you collecting for him whilst he was touring

It was a thing you did for one another

Grabbing books or nicknacks that you knew the other would enjoy

Earlier you asked if he was feeling hungry for anything and you both agreed on ordering in so you made your way towards the room he was in, your idea was to order food in front of him but in actually you’re just going to be on a fake call with the camera facing him

“Baby!” You called out as you entered “Yes m’love” he hummed grabbing his bookmark and placing the book on the side wooden table that was next to him

“Did you want to get Chinese food for dinner tonight?” He smiled and nodded “Yeah that sounds great, did you want me to called them?” shaking your head you pulled out your phone from your pocket “Ill do it you just continuing reading” you smiled widely and plopped down next to him on the small brown crouch with pink flowers printed all around it, you had picked it out together when you passed by a garage sale in your neighborhood

He looked at you suspiciously as he knew you didn’t like making phone calls when it comes to ordering or phone calls in general since it freaked you out but this time he just decide to brush this off and picked up his book

In the middle of your fake order that’s when the prank began

“Yes, and my boyfriend would like to get the same thing except with fried rice for the second side”

Harry paused for a minute, not quite sure he heard you correctly but as he slowly started to register what you had said his eyebrow rose, his jaw was clench and he had a smirk rising up on his face

What was going through his head, you didn’t know, but were you excited to see how this was going to play out? oh defiantly

“Okay perfect, thank you!” You ‘ended’ the call and founded Harry starring blankly at you

“Yes?” You smiled and giggled “Boyfriend huh?” He had this dark look casted over his eyes that made you laugh even more ‘Oh this is funny to you” you covered your mouth as you smiled “I did nothing wrong” he hummed and nodded before placing his book back down and wrapping his hands tightly around your ankles pulling you right to him, it was a small couch so you were dragged immediately to him

You screamed out laughing as he hovered above you, pushing down your arms to your side as he trapped your legs between his thighs to stop you from ever kicking

He flipped you around and you immediately screamed again “No Harry I’m sorry!” he ignored your pleases and continued, roughly he smacked your ass, part of you was happy you had clothes on so the impact didn’t hurt as much but at the same time this man is stronger than you

“You’re a brat” he mumbled sitting back down “It was funny admit it” you crawled onto his lap and positions his face to look at you, he smiled and rolled his eyes, giving you a soft peck

“I’m your husband, understand? Have been for four years, not some fucking boyfriend anymore” he nuzzled his head towards your neck lightly pressing kisses “Mm definitely can’t post this” his head perked up “Post what?” you immediately slid off his lap and ran out of the room

“Nothing!”

a/n: wasn’t feeling it half way but enjoy! also I’m taking request if anyone wants to suggest anything :)

#harry styles #harry styles x reader #hshq #married au #prank #x reader #harry styles imagine #harry styles blurb #harry styles fanfiction

[ficsilike-reblogged]

Hungry For Heaven

Summary: Beau knows he shouldn’t have feelings for his young, pretty secretary. But he can’t help it. Pairing: Beau “Cyclone” Simpson/F!Reader (No Y/N) Word Count: 4.6k ABSOLUTELY NO MINORS ALLOWED A/N: This is my second entry for the 80’s Rocktober Challenge hosted by @roosterforme - I picked Dio’s song “Hungry For Heaven.” I hope you enjoy! Warnings: Naval inaccuracies, Cain is a creep for plot reasons, my gratuitous use of italics and song lyrics, a coyote ugly reference, female receiving oral sex, power imbalance

His girl. Cyclone’s girl. Simpson’s girl. The Admiral’s girl. That’s how most people referred to you when speaking with Beau. And he had never admitted how much he liked it, instead telling people to at least acknowledge your rank. But in the dark of his rooms, in the recesses of his mind, Beau liked it. He liked that you were his. 

Sort of.

Beau knew it was cliche. Falling for his young, pretty secretary was probably the most cliche thing that he could have ever done. But it hadn’t been a choice, really. You had appeared one day, three years ago, like a whirlwind and Beau had been left in your wake. You kept a tight ship, just as he did. You had been a perfect match for him, keeping him organized and on time for all his meetings and classes. You had made the mountains of paperwork he was always saddled with much easier to swallow and he had thought he was dreaming when you’d first handed over a thick stack of papers and told him he just needed to sign at the bottom of the last page. You’d basically done a week of reports for him and had left Beau with a pen in his hand and a tight stomach as you sauntered back out of his office. But that was what you did, he learned. You made his life easier. Gave him time to breathe. You were his girl. 

It was more than a little embarrassing to realize his…affection for you was noticed by anyone. Thankfully, the only person he knew for a fact suspected anything was Admiral Bates, who had quietly told him that it was about time he was happy. Embarrassing. It was a kindness, true, but Beau would have preferred if he hadn’t said anything at all. These feelings were inappropriate and completely against Naval regulation and protocol and he couldn’t stop.

“You’re not staying much later, are you?” 

Beau looked up from his computer, reading yet another request from Maverick about his insane dog fight simulations he wanted the newest Top Gun class to try, to see you in the doorway of his office. The usual, soft smile was on your face—the smile he liked to think you reserved just for him. His mouth curled up at the edges too; he couldn’t help it. “Just trying to rein in Maverick.” 

You scoffed and shook your head but your smile remained. “You’re going to be here all night, then. Again.” 

Beau had to hide his laugh behind his hand. You knew him too well. “I won’t.” 

You hummed, obviously not believing him. “I’ll order you dinner. Do you want Chinese or Italian? You had barbecue two nights ago.” 

His heart twisted, like it usually did whenever you so easily showed how well you knew him. “Italian, if you could, Lieutenant. With-”

“With extra breadsticks, I know. I’ll make sure they don’t forget again.” 

You were gone from the doorway before he could thank you but you returned not thirty minutes later with his promised dinner and another smile. A cursory glance let him know that the extra breadsticks were indeed included this time and you set a silverware roll from the mess hall beside the bag. 

“You’re too good to me, Lieutenant.” Beau winced as soon as the words left his mouth but you simply smiled. “And I thought you were on your way out for the weekend?” 

Your smile widened. “I am. But I wasn’t about to leave you hungry.” 

Beau’s entire chest ached and he tried to smile again but he was sure it looked more like a grimace. “Big plans?” 

“My friend’s bachelorette party. We are going bar hopping after getting pole dance lessons.” You paused before a grimace crumpled your features. “You didn’t need to know that. I apologize. That was unprofessional.” 

Beau felt his throat bob, mouth suddenly dry. Seeing you in your khakis or in any of the other Naval uniforms had been all Beau had been given, aside from when you needed to grab something from your office over the weekend a few months ago and he got to see you in a sinful pair of shorts and low cut top. But imagining you in one of those tight, tiny dresses he knew women your age wore and learning how to dance like that had his stomach in knots. 

He was being unprofessional. He was supposed to be the one who approved or rejected paperwork for relationships like this. He wasn’t supposed to be wanting one. And he wasn’t even sure if you saw him as anything other than the old man who needed help keeping his meetings and paperwork in a row. 

Sure, you joked with him, nursed a glass of expensive bourbon with him after the Uranium Mission, and Beau liked to think he caught you appreciating the view when he partook in the swim call during your last shared deployment and you handed him a towel to dry off…but that did not mean anything in the grand scheme of things. 

He knew that. 

But he couldn’t get you out of his head. 

“I hope you have a good time. You’ve certainly earned it. I know I run you ragged here.” 

The hard line of your shoulders lessened and your smile returned as you shook your head. Your hand settled over his and you gently squeezed his fingers, touch not retreating immediately and Beau tried not to revel in it too much. “I love working for you. You have to know that by now.” Beau watched your mouth open again before you bit your lip. 

Beau could imagine a million different things you could have said after that. But you didn’t say any of them. You didn’t say anything at all aside from a soft, “anyway, have a good night, Admiral. Please don’t stay too late.”

And then you were gone, leaving Beau alone with the scent of your floral perfume, the echo of your warm hand on his, and an ache in his chest. 

It was fine. 

This was fine. 

He ate his dinner as he tried to find the least insane simulation Maverick had requested and hoped that it would end well next week. Honestly, having the Captain as the permanent Top Gun instructor was bad for his heart.

“Are you coming?”

Beau looked up from his paperwork to see Admiral Cain in his doorway, arms crossed over his chest. Oh, that was right. Cain had been invited to see the current Top Gun class in action. The higher ups thought it would be a way to “soften” Cain’s animosity toward manned aircrafts. It was ridiculous because Beau outranked Cain and he still walked around like his shit didn’t stink.

Mostly what it did was raise Beau’s blood pressure and had you running circles around base trying to keep Cain out of Beau’s office. It was a valiant effort, Beau knew, but Cain hardly ever followed any recommendation from someone who he deemed ‘beneath him.’ 

He glanced down at the calendar on his desk and saw your neat handwriting over today’s date. Drinks with Cain? :( 

Dammit.

“Yeah, let me just clean up and-”

“I’ll give you fifteen minutes.” And then he was gone, too. 

Biting back every swear he’d ever learned, Beau stood and cleared his desk of his dinner’s trash and filed everything away to deal with on Monday. He pulled on a different shirt and slacks he kept in his office’s closet for times like this and tried not to seem too unenthusiastic when he met Cain out in the parking lot. The effort was completely negated when the other man started bragging about the bar he wanted to try, touting that it was apparently popular with younger women who preferred older men. 

And while Beau did think of you for a moment, his stomach still rolled with the thought that Cain was on the prowl for someone younger when Beau knew that he had a wife and kids waiting at home for him. But still, he went, knowing the higher ups would frown at him not wanting to “play nice.” 

(Beau pocketed the thought that he could have Cain dishonorably discharged if he actually did something.) 

The drive to the bar was thankfully short and Beau had repeatedly told himself that it would be fine to leave after one overpriced drink before parking. He could hear the classic rock pouring from the stout brick building and he could still hear the waves crashing against the shore as he stepped up toward the front door. The bouncer at the front waved him in and Beau saw Cain already striding up toward the bar, turning his head to watch as a woman, carrying a tray of shots to a different table, walked by. 

Cain settled at the bar and Beau begrudgingly stood near him and waited for one of the three bartenders to take their order. When they were noticed, Cain was more than a little shameless with staring down the bartender’s shirt when she came to their corner of the bar top so Beau made a mental note to give her an extra tip with his drink as a silent apology. 

“What can I get started for you?” She asked, turning to Beau with a roll of her eyes. She’d apparently already had a long night. 

“Cognac, please.” 

The bartender quirked an eyebrow but almost smiled. “You seem like a top shelf kind of guy. Am I right?” 

Beau nodded and watched her grab a bottle of cognac he also had in his personal bar back home (where he’d rather be, but that was beside the point) and poured a few fingers of it into a glass before setting it atop a monogrammed napkin and pushing it in front of him. He handed over his card without a fuss and she seemed grateful when he didn’t ask to open a tab. 

Beau vacated his spot at the bar after leaving his promised tip and it was quickly taken by a woman who had to be about your age with a sash across her chest that read “Made of DisHonor” in bold, pink lettering. It was funny—there must be a bachelorette party here somewhere. 

Again, he thought of you—you had said your friend’s bachelorette party was tonight. 

As Beau settled into an overstuffed booth near one of the stained glass windows, he saw Cain still at the bar, now turned around to lean against it as he sipped on his martini. His gaze was bouncing from one woman to the next while completely ignoring the other men who would have probably preferred his spot at the bar to order. But it hardly mattered, really. Beau would have been content with finishing his drink by himself and not interacting with Cain at all. But Cain did eventually did spot him and Beau raised his glass in half hearted welcome but hoped that it would not be taken. 

Cain didn’t pick up on the abject disinterest on Beau’s face and started to make his way over. Dammit. However, he made it only a half dozen steps before getting pulled to a stop by a woman in a tight dress and a bright smile. 

Damn. All right. Apparently the reputation this bar had was not completely unfounded. 

Beau was quick to drag his gaze away from the uncomfortable scene and spotted the girl with the sash walking away from the bar with a tray of what looked like Jell-O shots in her hands. Beau watched her go with a smile, remembering his days back in college when his tongue was blue from drinks like those. She quickly passed out the small plastic cups and the grip Beau had on his cognac nearly slipped when he recognized one of the women in her group. 

You. 

God. You had always been beautiful but right now you were truly something else. Sinful and ethereal all at once. Stunning. Short dress. High heels. Burgundy lips. You were dressed for the festivities. Your sash read “Miss Behaving.” 

Of course it did. 

The bride, a cute woman in a tiny white dress with a giant white bow on the back of her head, herded everyone a little bit out of the throughway so a small group of men could get to the bar without needing to walk around. And you ended up closer to him. He could hear your laugh over the music as your friend pushed one of the Jell-O shots into your hand. 

“I’m driving tonight! I can only have one drink.” 

The woman with the Made of Dishonor sash pouted but still made sure your fingers were curled around the tiny plastic cup. “You said that at the last two bars, too. That’s why I got you a non-alcoholic Jell-O shot. Congrats. That is pure sugar and water, babe.” 

You laughed and Beau found himself smiling at the sound of it; he liked hearing you be happy. And he should have known that you would be the designated driver for your friends—you were always taking care of someone. (Usually it was him.) 

He watched you and your friends take the caps off the shots and clink them together with a shout of cheers for the bride as he took another sip of his own drink. It nearly came right back out as he coughed, watching your tongue skirt around the plastic. 

“There we go!” The bride cheered before patting your cheek with uncoordinated fingers but you laughed anyway. “I want you to have fun. Have fun with me.” 

“I am having fun! I promise,” you said before catching her hand and kissing her fingers, earning a giggle of your own. “And tonight isn’t about me!”

“I picked this bar for you!” The maid of honor said with a laugh of her own. “I was hoping I would be able to get your mind off that man who shall not be named.” “No, you chose it because they let you dance on the bar.” “That’s besides the point,” she retorted, finger pointed in your direction. “Two birds, one stone or whatever.” 

“What?” The bride asked, dragging out the single syllable. 

The maid of honor shook her head. “Babe, it has been over a year and you’re still hung up on him. You either need to get under him or get over him.” 

You swirled your finger around the empty, plastic container, pretending to care about the remnants of your Jell-O shot. “I can’t help it.” 

“What’s so special about him?” Another woman asked, stealing a second shot. “A year’s a long time.” 

“Oh no,” one of your friends groaned. “Don’t get her started.”

The bride pouted again. “But I wanna hear it. I don’t hear anything anymore! I don’t even know who we’re talking about!” 

“I’ve told you about him twice but that just…doesn’t matter,” you said, probably noting how intoxicated she was at the moment. “You’re busy with wedding planning, sweetheart. We don’t want to bother you.” 

She waved it away, pout persisting. “Tell me. Tell me right now! I’m your best…” she hiccuped. “Best friend. Tell me.” 

You licked your lips before sighing. “He’s…my boss.” 

There was an answering squeal from the bride and a few others in your group before you waved it away with a halfhearted scowl, like you were trying to keep the smile from your face. 

The grip on his drink was near painful now. 

You were talking about him. You had been hung up on him for over a year. 

“He’s just handsome and kind and funny. He’s nice when he wants to be and he’s always nice to me.” 

“But not to everyone else, right?” The maid of honor said, sounding like she’d heard this before. 

Beau adjusted his posture to try to hear your group better over the blaring guitars and thumping drums. He wanted to know what you had been saying—apparently repeatedly. 

“Yeah. I mean, he runs a tight ship-”

“That is a terrible pun.” 

“-but he tries to keep everyone safe and he just expects everyone else to do the same. So-”

“You’re burying the lede here. He’s smoking hot. A complete silver fox who’s got a banging bod.” 

You gaped at the Maid of Honor’s outburst and Beau watched your mouth open and close a few more times without a single word coming out. Is that what you had told your friends?

“And he’s sweet to you?” The bride repeated, hazy eyes sparkling. “You hafta marry him.” 

“They’re a sight for sore eyes. Good choice.” 

Beau felt something in his neck pop when he quickly turned his head to see Cain settling opposite him in the booth. The other man’s eyes were dragging all over your group without a care in the world. Dragging all over you. “Did you strike out?” The words were out of his mouth before he could even begin to think of a different response. “I saw you talking to someone else.” It was a pitiful recovery but Beau hid his distaste for the entire situation behind another gulp of his liquor. 

Cain’s mouth curled into a scowl for a moment. “You’ve been sitting here alone all night. You’re not doing any better.” A familiar sneer pushed at his features before he once again looked at your group. “Are you one of those that just likes to look?” 

Thankfully or not, Cain didn’t wait for an answer and stood again, making his way over to your group. Just for a moment, Beau thought about just leaving. Just getting up and leaving and pretending this entire night never happened. 

“A-Admiral Cain.” 

Your voice cut through Beau’s thoughts with ease. 

“I…I didn’t expect to see you here.” 

Cain squinted at you, probably trying to place your face and Beau saw the exact moment Cain recognized you, a smirk pushing at his mouth. A few of your friends started whispering into each other’s ears, probably wondering if this was the Admiral you were hung up on. “Ah, Lieutenant, I should have known it was you.” 

“Oh?” 

Cain’s smirk grew. “Yes ma’am. I think I’d recognize that-”

Beau had heard quite enough and stood abruptly, cognac still in his hand. “I think we’ve had enough tonight, Admiral. Time to head out.” 

The shock on your face only grew more apparent as you looked at him. “Admiral Simpson. Um…h-hi.” 

“That’s him,” the maid of honor hissed into the bride’s ear. 

Cain’s eyes were hard as they bored into the side of Beau’s face. He could feel them. But he couldn’t take his eyes off you. You were even more beautiful up close. Dammit. Again.

“Why don’t we let the ladies decide if I’ve had enough?”

Your eyes went wide and you took a step in front of your friends, hands fanning out to keep them behind you. “I apologize, sir, but I don’t think that is entirely appropriate.” 

“It could be our little secret and shouldn’t I be the one who says whether or not something is inappropriate? I’m sure we can all keep a secret.” 

Something Beau had spent years trying to suppress started to bite at the back of his mind. Cold rage. He moved to step in front of Cain, blocking you from the other man’s gaze. “We’re done here, Cain.” 

The tense line of his shoulders relaxed when he felt your warm hand press against his back. A quiet thank you. And the simple touch had warmth bleeding over him. 

“We are just about to leave-”

“Bride and babes!” The bartender who had served Beau hollered. “You’re up!” 

The maid of honor let out a curse and muttered something about never planning anything ever again before pushing everyone toward the bar again. And then Cain was saying something, Beau could hear the rumble of his voice at the back of his mind like a buzzing fly, but Beau couldn’t take his eyes off you. 

You as you tugged down your skirt after it had ridden up when you climbed. 

You as you helped the bride step onto one of the barstools. 

You as you followed suit until you and the rest of your friends were lined up on the bar. 

“Ladies and gents,” the bartender’s voice cut through the din of the bar just before the last song ended. “We have a special group here tonight. And they want to put on a little show for you all.” 

The crowd gave a raucous cheer and then the opening chords of a song he knew well swelled over the bar’s speakers. And then you (and your friends) started to dance. It was filled with spins and giggles followed by twists and turns that had your legs nearly glowing in the low light of the bar as Dio continued to sing. 

You're in danger, the last of a line

But the vision lasts forever…

The watching crowd hollered when you and the maid of honor showed off the moves you must have learned at your pole dancing lessons on either side of the bride. Beau couldn’t take his eyes off you. Wouldn’t. 

“I see it now.” Cain’s voice pulled his attention for just a moment. “You want her all to yourself.” 

He didn’t deign it worthy of a response. And honestly, what could he say? Denying it would be fruitless and accepting it would be handing over power to Cain. So, Beau said nothing. 

The young just getting older

We are sunlight

We can sparkle and shine

And our dreams are what we're made of… He just watched you. 

He dragged his eyes up your form and saw you looking straight at him. 

Just hold on You can make it happen for you Reach for the stars and you will fly You're hungry for heaven Hungry for heaven Hungry for heaven But you need a little hell, oh, hungry…

And, just for a moment, Beau felt like you were doing this all for him. This entire show was for him. That little dress and the way you inched it up your thighs as you moved was for him. The burgundy-tinged smile was just for him. The way your half-lidded gaze never strayed far from him in the crowd was for him. And maybe it was. Maybe it was all for him because as soon as the song ended and you helped your giggling friends off the bar—taking extra care to help the bride down as she poked at the tip of your nose—you turned to him. While your friends were swarmed by other patrons of the bar who had appreciated the show, you only looked at him. And then you were moving, pushing your way through the accumulated crowd and toward him. You licked your lips just before you slowed to a stop in front of him and Beau tracked the movement with his heart hammering in his throat. “Did you enjoy the show?” And what was he supposed to say to that? He had the wherewithal to notice Cain had retreated to a darkened corner with another drink and a different woman, his attention completely diverted. Beau paused for a moment before nodding. What good would lying do now? Something had shifted, irreparably changed. For better or worse. 

He could smell your perfume again as you moved closer, closer, closer. God, you were beautiful. And a voice that sounded almost like himself was screaming at the back of his mind that this was wrong, this was against all sorts of Naval regulations, that this would only end poorly- But it quieted as soon as your fingers pressed against his chest. He could feel each of your breaths against his mouth. He could smell your floral perfume with each of his own inhales and wanted to bury his nose in it. In you. But what Beau happily noticed was the lack of alcohol that hit his nose. You were sober. 

He knew adrenaline could make people do things that were out of character. Plenty of pilots, himself included, had landed their jet and jumped out, heart hammering and nerves buzzing. Maybe it was that for you, high off the little performance. Confident enough to approach your direct superior in a crowd. You sought him out. There was a silent conversation between you; were you going to do this? Could either of you stop? And Beau surged forward with his inevitable answer, closing the gap.

You tasted like heaven. Sticky sweet with a bite of something else and your hand gently curled over his chest as you sighed against his mouth. Your fingers inched up to press at the side of his neck as he licked between your lips. 

Every sigh, every little noise, every brush of your mouth against his had his heart racing. This was what he needed, what every part of him had wanted since you had first spent the night at his side, helping him do monotonous paperwork. Just you, in his arms, and your taste on his tongue. 

He didn’t even recall pulling you toward the small hallway that led to the bathrooms but he felt your smile against his mouth when he backed you against the wall. Your next breath puffed against his wet lips and your eyes still sparkled in the hallway’s shitty light. “We might have fifteen minutes before someone comes looking.” “I can do a lot in fifteen minutes.” 

The bathroom door creaked when he pulled you through it and the lock gave an answering click when he engaged it. You were soft everywhere and Beau groaned against your mouth as his hands skirted up your thighs, dragging the minuscule skirt of your dress with it. And you were sweet everywhere, too, as he tugged the tiny scrap of lace between your thighs to the side and drank you down. Your hands curled into his hair as he pulled one of your legs up and over his shoulder. He kept you upright as each flick of his tongue had you shaking and whimpering and filling his mouth. 

He could do this forever, even if his knees ached and his trousers were unbearably tight. 

Just as you shook in his grip and he felt you sliding down his chin, there was a sharp knock at the door. 

“We’re leaving! I’m giving you exactly thirty seconds to meet us outside.” 

Beau recognized the maid of honor’s voice on the other side. It was quickly followed by a chorus of giggles. But he hardly heard any of it as you sighed and curled your hands beneath Beau’s chin and pulled him up with a gentle tug. You kissed him, undoubtedly tasting yourself on his tongue, as your thumb swept gentle circles against his cheek. 

Your eyes were hazy and half-lidded again and you stole another kiss against his mouth when he pulled your dress back down. 

“You can definitely do a lot in fifteen minutes, Admiral.” Your finger swept beneath his lip, gathering the evidence of your secret and you licked it away. “I’ll return the favor. I promise.” 

Before you slipped away from him again, Beau kissed you again. He couldn’t get enough of it, of you. Nor the soft laugh you let out as you whispered you’d see him on Monday. 

Monday was going to be interesting. He didn’t know what it would bring, how any of this would turn out, but he had hope. And he liked to think you did, too. 

Beau couldn’t wait. 

A/N: please let me know what you think! Thanks for reading!

#top gun rocktober #Beau Simpson x reader #beau cyclone Simpson x reader #cyclone x reader #tgm fic #tgm #female reader

[pedal-writes]

Lloyd garmadon hcs (romantic & reg hcs)

A/N: This is first post on here 😭 I’m super into ninjago right now so I might as well write abt it. And Lloyd is super pookie bear 🫶

Romantic:

-When you guys first start dating, Lloyd is a bit distant and awkward since A. He’s never been in a legitimate relationship before and B. He has insane trauma from Harumi.

-But over time, he’ll start to warm up to you and he falls so hard.

-Loves to read comics with you, it’s such a guilty pleasure (and he’s a big nerd.)

-When he’s with you, he’s always holding your hand or resting his hand on your lower back. He’s pretty protective for a lot of reasons lol.

-Very prone to venting to you.

-Every once in awhile, he takes you out in ninjago city for a date on a rooftop of a building. It’s not the best place for a date but he’s not much of a romantic 🤷‍♀️

-Always takes care of you when you’re sick. He makes soup and tea for you, and sits by your side, holding your hand while talking about whatever.

-He’s such a cuddle bug!! He loves laying on your chest while you tangle your fingers in his hair. And vice versa.

-Loves to kiss you on your face, esp your cheek and your nose. Seeing your face get all blushy after he surprises you with a kiss really makes him happy.

-Feels a little self conscious around you about certain things, like his dad or his oni form since they’re kind of touchy subjects. But a little reassurance from you will help his self esteem a ton.

-he likes it when you braid his hair or play with it in any way,

-if you’re up to it, lloyd loves training with you. Even if he always manages to beat your ass accidentally 😭

-When you two are together, Kai will do EVERYTHING in his willpower to embarrass Lloyd for funsies.

-One time, he totally showed you a picture of when Lloyd was little and that atrocious bowl cut. Let’s just say Kai was locked out of the monastery for a good 3 days 😁

-He would most definitely call you nicknames like “baby” or a shorter version of your full name

-He try’s keeps it simple bc he doesn’t want to be like one of those cringy “pookie bear” couples lmao

-Misako and Wu would definitely love you immediately after Lloyd introduces you (more so misako), no questions asked.

-(based on a rewrite of crystalized I’m writing soon 🫶) Garmadon though? It depends. If you get to know him a bit better, then he’ll probably warm up to you. He’s just a bit weary because of the whole harumi thing.

-Kinda same with the Ninja honestly, but they’ll warm up to you super quick when they see how you treat lloyd and how happy you make him. They just want the best for him is all.

General:

-Lloyd really values his hair, like a ton. He takes super good care of it. And I really like to think after the events of crystalized, he started to actually grow his hair out.

-And by the time of dragons rising, his hair is all the way down to his lower back (he puts it in a low ponytail most of the time for combat reasons.)

-He’s both Japanese and Chinese!

-demiromantic/sexual and omnisexual!!

-Looked up to Nya as a mother figure when he was little, and still does. He loves misako but resents her deep down.

-Has a little stubble in DR, kinda canon but whatevs.

-Has a pretty good singing voice, but only really does it in private.

-Outside of his Gi, the clothes he usually wears is just a jacket, a t-shirt and jeans 😭 he has like 15 jackets in his closet (he’s just like me fr)

-Has scars like all over his body, and some on his face from like the millions of battles he’s been in.

-He’s a little chubby, but has pretty muscular arms (🤭)

-Lloyd has like small non-human features that nod to the fact that he’s half oni and dragon.

-Like pointy ears, sharp teeth, and slitted pupils.

-Sometimes when he’s in his feels, probably around crystalized, he feels as if he wants to abandon his role as the green ninja and live a simpler life. Anakin skywalker core tbh.

-Still has an adoration for candy.

-Every once in awhile, he still heads to Ninjago Doomsday Comix to buy a new issue of a comic he likes.

-He would probably enjoy music like Radiohead and mitski. He’s THE boy loser ever.

A/N: I can’t think of much else but I hope you guys enjoyed these!! I’ll write at my own pace for a little bit and then I’ll open requests. I gotta make a carrd sometime soon lmfao 😭

( @weirdotaku1000 these are the hcs I was working on!!)

#y’all have no clue how much excited I am rn 😭 #I’ve had this blog for like 2 years and haven’t posted a damn thing other than the intro which was 10 MONTHS AGO #lloyd garmadon #ninjago lloyd #lloyd garmadon x reader #lego ninjago #ninjago #lego ninjago x reader #ninjago x reader

[greenunoreversecard]

HEYYEYHEY CAN I REQUEST LLOYD (ninjago) HEADCANONS PLEASEEEE (ty :3)

A/N: Ofc!I'll do general character ones, as well as x reader ones :) hope ye likey likey:pp

Lloyd, The Greenest and Geekest mf.

General character headcanons:

Half Japanese half Chinese

His hair is box blonde dye and you cannot change my mind.

Left handed

Severely dyslexic and hands off all scroll reading and just reading oriented tasks to kai.

Def gen z vibes. Like, the others give off more inbetween z and millenial, so they dont always get his humor. And sometimes he uses that to his advantage and "Speaks in code" (uses as much slang as possible)

Has LED lights in his room set to forest green.

Has given himself a smiley face tattoo.

Cried over a dead goose once.

OK, just to preface i see cole as a stoner of Sorts and uses the excuse "it gets me closer to my element"

With that in mind cole let lloyd try it and now sometimes when he is told to unwind, of feels like he needs to take a chill pill he and Cole spark up

in the beginning of his leader ship role, he used to Say;"kick ass and take names" and if things went wrong he had the fuck it we ball mindset, but got better with time. There are still times they wing it, though.

if he isnt in his gi he almost exclusively wears his pajamas (aka a Hoodie, tshirt and sweats)

Vv tired, and now has a raging addiction to energy drinks due to his lack of Sleep.

He used to eat worms as a kid bc he Thought he it was evil.

Has a eyebrow piercing, and wants a tongue piercing.

Wears "reading" glasses, that he should technically wear all the time because he can't see up close and has a astigmatism,, but he says yolo. Zane then make him contacts after he almost ran into a moving blade and got his head severed.

Adhd and OCD, as well as the normal line up (anxiety, depression, cptsd)

Lloyd in a relationship:

Hes very distant in the beginning, it'll take time to warm up to you.

He tends to be orage cat vibes.

On the cat trend, he gets close for a bit Before becoming distant. Going through waves of affection, kinda.

He hasn't had like, any good relationships in his life so he tries to "protect" himself when he feels he gets to close to you, and so he pulls away.

He does the fuckboy face when your sad bc it makes you laugh, as well as That weird dice roll

He actually does the face/dice roll combo whenever he Sees you as he walks over, it's an inside joke now

primary giving love language: acts of service and quality time

Primary receiving love language: gifts and words of affirmation. But physical touch is also high up there.

Also, not expensive gifts. He hates those. Give him a stick you saw on a walk that made you think of him. He'll cherish it forever. And maybe cry.

He will cry.

will make noises at you and expects a noise in response or he'll be sad.

Also randomly bites you. He's a nommer

also sends you memes throughout the day.

As well as random pictures with the caption;"BABY LOK THIS IS S. US IF WE WHERE *insert whatever item here*

Called you babe, baby, love, shitface, asshole.

Expect kind and loving gentle bullying.

Doesnt know how to express his emotions to just expect him to come up to you, lightly shake your shoulders and aggressively say;"I love you bitch.i ain't Evea gon stop lovin you. Bitchhhhhhh" (vine reference)

Sends you .5 of everyone, himself included. He's addicted to Taking them. You will not get out of it.

Also sometimes just walks around in nyas stilettos for fun.

You two have fashion shows.

You also take over the Living room sometimes and build giant ass forts to watch shitty reality tv in and make fun oF The people

Overall, once he realizes you won't leave he's the most funniest loving chaotic guy.

But expect it to take a hot minute for him to realsie this

give him time,, but also have some deep talks..

Let him vent

and for the love of God don't hurt the baby's heart.

Expect inside jokes

#no beta we die like jason todd #greeny's inbox #Ninjago x reader #lloyd garmadon #lloyd montgomery garmadon #lego ninjago #Lloyd garmadon x reader #Ninjago x you #Male reader #gn reader #ninjago lloyd

[ressonancee]

TRACK N02. KAMIKAZE - CHOI SEUNGCHEOL

I love the beginnin', the moonlight is callin' I know we'll go up, but we'll end up freefallin' You mind if I need to come kamikaze, crash into your way?

✷ wordcount: 7.734 ✷ genre: angst, break-up, smut

✷ This work is a part of "The Loviest Time Universe" - A collection of stories inspired by Carly Rae Jepsen's album

✷ Thea's note: hi everyone this is finally out - the first installment of the loveliest time, hehe. But first let me say a few thank yous. To @ssinboo for giving this a read since the first draft and enduring my thoughts on Discord 24/7. A thank you to @dalamjisung for reading this when i thought this was too sad and nobody would read this. And a special thanks to @toruro mika you are the kindest, thank you for reassuring me when I thought this sucked and was too depressing <3 , and for beta-reading ♥ I hope you all enjoy this (even if it hurts) also seungcheol-enjoyers i am very very sorry. Kkuma 2nd appearance.

I saw you in the deep end A shipwreck underwater And I know I shouldn't want that

Loving Seungcheol was not an easy task, and you learned it in the hardest way possible. 

Loving Seungcheol seemed easy. He crashed into your life - loudly, fast. Often, you thought about it like a car crash in a movie scene - the part when everything gets upside down, and even the glass pieces flying around look kinda magical.

But you guess, after a while, the movie scene was just a little bit too loud and possibly a security hazard for everyone involved. 

A part of you really wanted to give your all, to sacrifice, to just give a little bit more of yourself to make it work, but lately, you have been so fucking tired and so alone that you don’t even have the strength to try anymore.

You loved everything about Seungcheol, you loved his laugh, you loved the way that Seungcheol made everyone feel cared for, you loved how he treated you and you loved how he loved you, and knowing all that made everything worse.

But Seungcheol had that power - he made sure to make you fall in love all over again every time he had a chance. And everything would be okay after a few hours in the same space as him, you would feel loved, he would smile, he would embrace you and everything would just feel right.

The problem was that lately, Seungcheol didn't have the time to make you fall in love with him.

If you thought about it, you couldn't even pinpoint the last time you saw Seungcheol. You know he dropped by before going overseas for his tour - four months long tour, for a quick fuck but before that you can't really remember because he was already busy with a comeback and rehearsal. 

And you tried your best to keep it cool, and you tried your best to deal with it on your own - Seungcheol was a constant topic in your therapy, and you tried to understand - of course his life is more glamorous than yours, of course he has the chance to go to all those beautiful places you can only see in pictures, of course it was work.

And you tried to bite your tongue and think how much of his life he had to give up in order to be where he is now. And it is his dream, his youth, his life really - so you can't make Seungcheol choose.

You know all that. 

And you try to use your brain instead of your heart. But when Seungcheol is in the same country as you, in the same time zone, and still has a problem reaching up, it still has a problem finding more than a 30-minute time slot, you know what you need to do.

You need to let him go.

It is a Monday when Cheol arrives on your doorstep, you let him in and everything seems so normal - the majority of times you two hang out was in your house, not a lot of dating outside, not a lot of going out with your boyfriend enjoying the city. 

You tried to brush it off and pretend you didn't care Seungcheol didn't have a normal life, so you two could have brunch on a sunday or a stroll in the nearest mall. 

"Hey baby I was thinking of ordering from that chinese restaurant god I am craving the food," Seungcheol says, crashing on your sofa like it is his own house, and it settles on you that it is almost like his second house, a hideaway, every time he had a problem he would just crash on your place. He had the keys, why didn't he open the door? Why were you always doing the job? Letting him in, let him crash into your life? Why couldn't you crash into his and set things on fire? "Baby? Are you listening?" Seungcheol calls, but you know he doesn't really care because his eyes are glued to his phone.

"Cheol I need your attention for a minute," you say, looking at him, trying your best to keep it straight, to not fall on the ground and cry.

"Okay okay just let me answer a few more texts. We are scheduling the next varieties right now so everything is a bit crazy," your boyfriend says, still not paying attention. And you ask yourself - has it always been like that? 

Did Seungcheol always come into your life, create havoc, crush everything on his point of view, take everything he could get his hands on and everything you could give him to not give five minutes of his time in return? 

"Seungcheol I really need you to put your phone down," you say again and you are so pathetic that you feel the tears rolling down your cheeks, your voice cracking up - and that's what calls Seungcheol's attention, eyes big on surprise.

"Love, are you okay? What happened?" he asks and now that you have his attention, his phone is screen down on your sofa, his eyes on you, you feel all certainty leaving your body because you miss him so much and he looks so tired your heart almost breaks because you feel like to Seungcheol you are just another thing he needs to take care of, to handle, to adjust in his crazy hours.

You feel like you are a plate spinning in the little stick, and you are about to fall down because Seungcheol forgot that he needs to spin you around.

"I'm really sorry, I-" you hiccup, and god you feel so fucking silly. 

"Baby what is going on?" Seungcheol's voice is low when he tries to wrap his arms around you, scared when you don't let him do it. "Baby you are worrying me," he says again when he watches you take steps away from him.

"You don't need to worry, everything is fine."

"Clearly everything is not fine, I am back after ages, and my girlfriend is crying in the living room," he says god you wish you could get angry and pick a fight with Seungcheol but you feel so tired, you feel so exhausted.

"I-" you try to start, but you feel your legs buckle and your heartbreak. "I think we should break up."

"What?" Seungcheol because that is the only thing he can say. Seungcheol feels like he is inside a car crash like he is the one getting upside down. He feels so blindsided by your decision, did... Did you find someone when he was away, or did you just fall out of love?

"I think we should break up," you say it again, more to yourself than to him, like you are making up your own mind.

"Can-" Seungcheol paces around, he actually feels his throat close and his tongue feels like sandpaper around the roof of his mouth, he can't even bring himself to actually look at you. But he finally does, seeing you sitting on the floor, back against a wall, hands holding your own hand, elbows on your knee, and you just feel so different. Seungcheol can't actually pinpoint what seems different, but you are, and you look so tired, what the fuck happened, how could he not see this coming? "Can I ask why?"

And you scoff, Seungcheol can see your whole body moving. Everything is so clear to you and so hazed to Seungcheol is like you two are in different directions speaking through a tin can telephone.

"I don't think this is working for me I-" you try to start, trying to dry your tears with the sleeve of your shirt.

"Did you find someone else?" Seungcheol blurts out.

"What?" You ask in actual disbelief, did he-

"Are you in love with someone else?" He says it again and you can wrap your mind around it, what he wants to mean with those silly accusations.

"Thats-"

"That's ok, I can take it, you can be honest with me," Seungcheol says again, trying to brace himself for the impact, preparing himself to hear the eyes falling out of your lips.

"You know what's funny?" You say without a hint of humor in your voice, "You actually prefer that wouldn't you? You would actually prefer the idea of being cheated on, of me being guilty of falling in love with someone else than to acknowledge that may be-" you hiccup, and try to breathe even though you can't do it through your nose, "that may be I am ending things with you because i can't deal with the shit show that is your life anymore, that I can't take being a second option anymore because your life is so fucking good that only someone crazy wouldn't want to share it with you." You pick yourself up, and you feel so angry, you feel so disrespected. You look at him, and god, even though you love him you know Seungcheol can't give you what you want, he can't give you coffee dates, he can't give you holidays, he can't give you the certainty of Valentine's days and birthdays. And even though you love him, even though you gave everything you could, even though you spent months and months on videocalls or just texts, even though you felt so fucking happy when he was by your side even though it meant a delivery and a night in, he is implying that you could cheat on him, like you could find someone like you are not broken enough to think that you could never love someone again like you love him. "Guess what Cheol, you don't share anything. You just take and take until the person doesn't have any more to give you"

And he stays silent like he doesn't have anything to say. Like he is trying to understand the situation, those hazy moments after the crash when you try to make yourself come back to reality.

"I am sorry I am really tired if you could-" you start, walking to your door.

"Do you-" Seungcheol starts and when he looks at you can see the tears around his eyes and you want to take everything back, you want to say you are sorry, you want to say it was just you're feeling lonely but now he is back, now everything is okay, you can deal with going to every working related dinner or party alone and lie when people ask why your boyfriend never comes. "Do you think I could do something different?"

"No," you say voice small, looking everywhere just so you can avoid Cheol's eyes. "I really love you, I love you so fucking much, I just can't deal with your life, I just can't deal with the loneliness that comes when you go MIA between shows because you are tired, I just can't deal with whole weeks gone just because you guys are working on a new album, and I can't deal having a boyfriend only inside the walls of my apartment, it hurts so fucking much Cheol and I just have nothing else to give you." you catch your breath, and you smell his perfume, and everything looks so out of place, how can a heartbreak make you nauseated, make you feel physically ill? "And even though I love you, I wish I could bring myself to ask for it, to make you give me what I want, but I know you and I know I can't ask you for that, and I know you enough to know that if I ask for it maybe I won't get what I want in return because you can't give what I want.

When Seungcheol leaves the only thing you do is cry. Like a child, on your bed, in a fetal position, hiccuping every few minutes. You cry so much that you fall asleep while doing it. In the morning when your alarm goes off, you can feel a headache. You think you will need a lot more than a painkiller. But you pick yourself up, and go to work and you regret it. You regret it when you see a fucking bus with Seungcheol's face plastered on it - his birthday is in three weeks. You regret it when you see it again on the subway, and when you open social media the news around his new album is across it - you think you need to delete every account Seungcheol related. 

You also regret when you see Mingyu's name on your phone screen. But when Mingyu calls you for the third time you know something must be wrong.

"Hello?"

"Hey can you- ok guys shut up, hi hmm” He says in a lower voice, “can you tell Seungcheol to hurry up he is a bit late we have scheduled in like 30-ish," He says across the line.

"Hm, Mingyu I really can't do that." You say almost laughing because his friends don’t call you ever, you have Mingyu’s number registered because once Seungcheol had a dead phone and he asked Mingyu to tell you he was arriving late - that’s when Seungcheol still cared you think, after that he just arrived late without telling you his schedule was running late.

"No really like it is a really important schedule."

"Mingyu Seungcheol is not with me right now you should call him-"

"Is he not? I mean he slept with you, right? Did he leave your house already?"

"No, he didn't sleep at my place last night-"

"No?" Mingyu asks and the line is dead silent before you pick yourself up and have the courage to tell you.

"Mingyu we broke up yesterday," You say in the lowest register ever, the last thing you wanted was Karen from the sales department eavesdropping on your conversation and asking if you needed a girl time.

"Why did you break up with him?" He asks and that makes your head spin a little, how did he know?

"Mingyu that's-" you breathe loudly, you want to smash the phone against the nearest surface, but you need patience, and to be honest Mingyu didn’t do anything for you to be rude, yes, you are angry but it is not Mingyu’s fault,  "That's really personal I'm sorry"

"Ok, sorry, yeah I overstepped for sure," you can hear the faint voices in the background, "Do you think you know a place he could've gone to?"

"No, I really don't, I am sorry, just" your bite your tongue because you think that’s overstepping too, but you say nonetheless,  "Just give me a heads up if you guys find him or if I need to worry ok?"

"Yeah, yeah."

And against everything - your rational mind and your broken heart, you call Seungcheol, because he still comes first, his well-being and state. Even if he is not picking Mingyu's call that stills a part of you that says that you are special enough to him that he may answer your calls. He doesn't. But you don't even have time to worry because Mingyu sends you a message saying that Seungcheol just showed up and he is fine.

And the reality of it crushes you. You are not the person that Seungcheol will pick up when everyone calls him, you are not the exception anymore.

What really hurts is when you think that maybe you never were. 

And the feeling makes you so physically ill that when you knock on your chief's door to say you are going back home because you feel unwell and gonna try to work remotely he just says you can take a day off because you are clearly looking like a fucking truck hit you.

The first few days make you wish Seungcheol was right. You cry so much you feel dehydrated and have a non-stop headache. So you wish he was right, you wish you did cheat on him, you wish you ended things because you fell. in love with somebody else. 

You don't delete his messages but you do archive the conversation because every time you open the app it is just there and the want to hover it, to go back, to look at it, to have Seungcheol back in your life is so big you ask yourself how can you carry such a burden.

When you reach the 7 days you feel like somehow you can breathe again, now crying only 25% of the time. It's painful how you get back into your routine very quickly, it makes you feel that Seungcheol was not a big part of it. The main thing you do is to just keep your phone away, check less social media - the last time his face popped up and you almost yetted the phone. 

On week two you do all the things that you wanted to do with Seungcheol, alone or with other people. You go to the new corner cafe with a book and order a lot of sweet treats. You go to the movies after a day of work because why not. You drive yourself to the beach, and even though it’s not really summer, the weather is nice enough. In a way you think you are a masochist, experiencing all of those things and reminiscing of what could be if Seungcheol was by your side. But every time you come home and your empty place greets you with the memory of Seungcheol and his belongings you think that masochism would be locking yourself up in a place where Seungcheol was most present in your life.

Week three is a living hell. It's Seungcheol's birthday and you catch yourself entering a store just because something nice enough to be his present caught your attention. When you pick up your phone to ask him if he prefers leather or wool the reality crashes into you. It makes your world spin a little, and everything is in slow motion when you go back home. 

It doesn't help that you still have a pair of shoes, some shirts, a few pieces of jewelry, and even toiletries that don't belong to you in your own house. You feel stupid when you cry, but you pick everything up and put everything in a box - but you still don't have the strength to contact Seungcheol and say that he needs to pick up his things in order to move on.

I'm just here for the weekend A wordless kind of offer And I'm hoping that you saw that

After a month you stop crying.

Even though you don't keep tabs in a tracker you know every month that passes by, and Seungcheol's box turns into a decorative item by your door. 

In a way, everything you know about Seungcheol is stored in the back of your mind, and sometimes it comes back to your conscious mind like an intrusive thought.

To be honest, Seungcheol still pops up daily in your life, his voice plays in the nice book store, his face shows up in the make-up store and now he is the face of your favorite lip balm, he shows up in the tv and again in the subway, he shows up in the news and in your favorite variety show - the first time you don't actually binge watch. You know when Seungcheol is blond and when he is not, you know when his hair is long or shorter. And even if you don't want to, you keep tabs on him.

But in reality, you can deal with it, you can deal with Seungcheol's absence when he doesn't come back to make you fall in love with him. 

And it gets easier. 

Or you get used to not having Seungcheol in your life, seeing him from afar, or not seeing him at all. After 3 months you think to yourself that for the first time, you feel like a human again. Like your feet are back on the ground. You can walk without crunches for the first time after breaking both legs. 

When it hits the six-month mark you think it is okay to remember, it is okay to think about it, it was a milestone after all. When you think about buying a cake for the one-year mark you think that maybe that's not normal. 

But maybe that’s the path of healing, the ups, and downs of it, healing is not linear - you think that you saw an Instagram post about it. And you just accept it, you don’t fight anymore about how you remember Seungcheol in the silliest things, when you look at something on the street, or when you start binge-watching a new tv show. But sometimes you also don’t remember him, sometimes you can go a few days without conjuring him in your mind - but you always end up losing the game when you think to yourself how you did not think about him.

'Cause I see you I fall back into the feeling like we've just begun Tell me, ooh Are you tired of being alone? You're not the only one

When you see Seungcheol, two years later, you just laugh and take a sip of your drink. It is really crazy how Seungcheol's absence makes you forget that one of your closest friends knew Seungcheol - he was the reason why you two met in the first place.

And yet you feel surprised to see Seungcheol in the same space as you after a while. And god why do your legs buckle and why is he so good-looking?

At the same time you want to turn and run, you are so freaking obsessed with seeing Seungcheol with your own two eyes after such a long time. God. You need a drink, you need a glass of the most powerful poison, you need courage and you need strength. 

But before you can turn Seungcheol has his eye on you.

And you want to run and scream when you see him walking into you. 

"Hey," Seungcheol says and he too looks like he is fine with everything, and you think if it has always been like that if Seungcheol almost didn’t get a scratch when you always left with a broken heart and broken bones   "I-" Seungcheol laughs. "This is weird."

"Yeah," you say drinking the rest of your drink in one gulp "They didn't tell me you were coming so-"

"Do we need to continue doing that?" Seungcheol asks and you can feel your head tilting like a damn dog, and Seungcheol's tint smile across his face confirms your suspicion- he always thought it was endearing. "Avoid each other I mean," he clarifies. 

And you want to say yes because you feel so weak on your knees. You feel like you are getting pulled - physical traction makes you throw away all that you learned in the past year, making you forget how difficult it was, how painful.

"I don't know, it is not the ideal but what is the other option?" You ask and don't even wait for Seungcheol to answer you when you look around - you need another drink, you are not doing this sober, you feel yourself close to tears and you can't cry sober - drunk you at least have an excuse to bawl everything out.

"Not hating each other?" Seungcheol scoffs, and you do the same.

"Sometimes I think about how we spent four years together," you say, going to the bar with Seungcheol by your side, you order a mojito while Seungcheol just brushes the guy off. Seungcheol is so close that you can feel your brain start malfunctioning. 

"Come on, I swear I didn't try to pick a fight if you want I can go I already said my wishes to the host so-" 

"Is not that," You feel so fucking frustrated, you can feel your heart in your throat. "I just-" You breathe loudly, maybe you should let him enjoy the party and go - he was the one that didn't show up in two consecutive years. "Look this is not the time or the place for us to have this conversation but the point is I never hated you - I never could, and to be honest never wanted."

Seungcheol just looks at you, his eyes big and mouth agape. 

And you wish you could hate him because it would be easier. And because if you hated him you wouldn't question yourself if it was the right decision, if you hated him you wouldn't be thinking about letting Seungcheol back in your life.

"Hey, hey-" you hear Seungcheol's voice behind you. 

Fuck you forgot the uber, so you do your best to ignore Seungcheol and pick up your cell phone, trying to open the app fast enough just so a car teleports in the street.

"Come on I can take you home," He says and you want to laugh really, what the fuck is on his mind.

"And would I say yes to that?"

"Look," Seungcheol’s hand goes through his hair and you know he is frustrated, and a part of you relishes that, in the way that you still know him even after more than 24 months apart, "I don't know how you are doing, and this can be me being fucking egotistical, but I have been thinking you hate me for two years, so if here is not the place then we can find a place, I would say my place but that would make me sound like a jerk so-"

"Cheol," you almost beg.

"I really just want to understand what happened, fuck-" And when you look again you see Seungcheol in such a different light, he is so tired, he looks so exhausted, he looks older, but not just older he looks jaded,  "It is been plaguing my mind since we broke up I can't fuck wrap my head around-" 

"Your house then."

"Ok, ok. Just so you know I have a dog." Seungcheol says while guiding you to his car and you just feel a pang in your chest because you know how he went on and on about how he wanted a dog, how you two could get a dog, how if he wasn't so busy, and far away half of the time you two should get a dog.

And God you feel so sad, you can actually feel everything building up inside your body, you can feel it in your throat. 

You heard and heard about the dog and you were not there, and that’s all you can think about the entire trip to Seungcheol’s house.

"This is Kkuma," Seungcheol says holding the dog up, when he sees that you are not in the mood to greet the cute creature he gives up. "Is this a mistake?"

"Probably," you say, looking at his living room - god when you two dated he didn’t have his own house. How much did you miss? How many milestones in his life were you not a part of? 

"I-" Seungcheol starts, making you look at him, "I just thought we could go back to good terms you know, I've been keeping tabs on you," and you don’t know why but you feel so angry, you feel like there is something growing under your skin you can’t quite name it. "Don't look at me like that, I wanted to know how you were, how you've been doing, and when I asked about you this last time he said I could show up so I thought you knew"

"I didn't"

"Yeah, I'm sorry," he says, rubbing his palm against his pants in an attempt to dry it. "I mean for today and for everything I guess, I wasn't the best back then. I just thought-"

"What do you want from me Cheol?" You ask for the first time looking at Cheol's eyes, looking for the truth in it, searching for every little detail you can catch to make it make sense, but that just makes you crumble like a sandcastle against a wave, "I've been trying so hard- god"

"Hey, hey-" Seungcheol's hand close around your wrist, his fingers in contrast with your skin. "Don't cry please, don't cry, I always hated when you cried, hated every time I saw you in tears because of me." He says while getting closer to you, which just makes you cry a little bit more.

"I am so sorry, this was a bad idea, I can take you home if you want to," Seungcheol says with his arms around you - and god, you should've braced yourself from the impact, but you didn't and Seungcheol was just crashing into your life again.

"Yeah, and I was crazy enough to say yes to you," you say against Seungcheol's embrace and you are surprised when he picks up your muffled sounds.

"Why did you, say yes I mean" Seungcheol making space to look down at you.

"You know why Cheol," you say rolling your eyes at him.

"It's the same for me too, I guess," Seungcheol says tucking your hair behind your ears, "Maybe that's why I went after you today, fuck, that's why I talked to you really-" his lips find your forehead, and you can feel your heart in throat. You feel like your lungs are about to collapse, you can't breathe, "when I saw you I just-" He smells your hair like he used to do, his hand on your neck, his thumb caressing your jaw. "it just felt like nothing had changed"

I know it sounds fatal, I know we made fires The ending's real clear and it won't take us higher Tonight, I might need to come kamikaze Crash into your way (Kamikaze, kamikaze)

You know Seungcheol, you can tell, you can anticipate every step. With Seungcheol it is like you have the ability to see the future in your lids. With Seungcheol even when he crashes and burns makes you think to yourself that you can take the fire against your skin.

And you miss the feeling - to be understood even when you don't have words, when the silence speaks for you when Seungcheol just knows what you need before you ask for it. That's why you broke things up, you think, maybe you felt the most loved when Seungcheol would anticipate every and each one of your needs, and the moment he stopped you felt so unseen.

When Seungcheol's lips find your cheeks, just below your eyes, you can hear the sound of your heart-shattering. Your hands tighten against his sides. 

"I missed you," Seungcheol says, his forehead resting against yours. "I missed this, missed us."

"Cheol," you beg because it is the only thing you can do, the only thing you can master.

"Let me take care of you," You can feel the way his hand goes to your nape, making you shiver, "Let me make you happy."

You just nod, because that's what you want. You want it so much that you could change the earth's axis, you could change the future and the past for it. And when you feel Seungcheol's lips against yours you think that ending the world would seem like an easy task if it was to achieve Seungcheol's love, to have his touch against your skin every day.

When you wrap your arms around Seungcheol's neck you know you are done for - you know you fell in love all over again.

And you do it because it is him, because it is Seungcheol, and he is the only one who could break your heart.

"You will, won't you?" Seungcheol says mouth against your jaw, hand still against your nape holding you in place, "Let me love you?"

"Don't say things like that," you whisper, tugging on Seungcheol's shirt. 

"Why baby?" He says kissing your jaw, his hand caressing your cheek, "god, I missed this," Seungcheol says when his breath in on your neck, rubbing his nose on it. "missed how you smell," his hand holds your waist and you feel so glad because you almost melting, "missing the way you taste," he says when his tongue laps at your skin, giving you a small kiss on the kneck.

The only thing you can do is try to anchor yourself, one hand splayed against Seungcheol's back and another one tugging at his hair. Seungcheol's hand goes around you, caging you against his body, his hands finding the hem of your shirt and putting it under your shirt.

And it is just so much, the way his hands feel hot against your back, keeping you upright. The way his lips feel against your skin, wet, across your cleavage. The way that his body feels hard against yours. 

It's just so much. To have all that again, you almost forget how to breathe.

Seungcheol is so big - physically yes, but his whole existence is so big, it makes you feel suffocated. Seungcheol is so big that you question yourself how you used to fit him in your heart.

But you choose not to think about it, not know. You call his name while tugging his hair, blindly searching his mouth. And you focus on Seungcheol, the way that his tongue feels against yours, the way that he holds you, the way that you feel how hard he is against your hips.

"Let me," Seungcheol whisper against your mouth before his hand found the back of your thighs and picks your up - and you do the only thing you can do, letting out a surprised noise and hugging Seungcheol. And you can feel how Seungcheol's smiles spread against the skin of your chest.

"Don't laugh," you try to scold him, hand tugging his hair again - when he let his hair gets so long? It was a newfound joy for you.

"-m not laughing," you hear Seungcheol say against your skin, his fingers dipping in the skin of your ass. 

When your back hits the mattress, you feel like you can breathe again for the first time, Seungcheol's body away from yours. Until his hand is back on your hips, making your heart skip a beat and your lungs collapse.

"You are so pretty," he says when his hands travel up against your body, lifting your shirt, Seungcheol's lips find the skin of your stomach, his hand pressing on your ribcage. Seungcheol looks at you, his tongue on your skin, linking a strip of it. 

The thing about Seungcheol is that he still remembers. He still knows what makes you melt, makes you hot, makes you whimper. And he does it so right that makes your head spin.

Seungcheol lifts your shirt up, pooling it against your neck. "Fuck-" Seungcheol starts again and you ask yourself how he doesn't feel tongue-tied like you, "so pretty like this," his digits touch your chest when the lace of your bra ends, and it is just so faint, you lift your chest searching for his touch.

"Can I?" Seungcheol asks and you don't even know what he wants but you are nodding. He tugs on your bra, letting your boobs free. His forefinger and his middle finger find your nipple, tugging at it lightly, making you whimper. "Always loved how you are so fucking sensitive," he coos.

Seungcheol's lips find your skin again, and the way he kisses the underside of your boob is so soft and so tender that makes your head spin a little. Seungcheol lowers his body against yours, making you open your legs a little to make space for him between them. 

Seungcheol kisses your sternum at the same time that his hands wrapped around your throat, he doesn't put pressure on it. But the mere fact that his hand is splayed on your windpipe makes you lose it, make you whimper. "God, missed this too, the way you sound" 

"Cheol," you want to complain but you can't because Seungcheol just licks one of your nipples, his free hand holding you in place for him to latch on it. You don't even know what to do - it is just too much, the feel of Seungcheol's hands on your body, of his mouth against your skin. 

When his mouth leaves your nipple with a low pop, his mouth doesn't leave your skin. "Don't worry babe gonna give it to you," you hear his voice low and muffled, "Gonna give you everything."

"Want you-" you say tugging at his shirt. And you feel so hot all over, you ask yourself how did you survive without his touch for so long, how did you survive with your skin against yours.

"I know, I know” Seungcheol coos and you just melt against the hand he places against your face, when he kisses you again you know you are doomed. “Just let me eat you first," he says putting his lips just below your ear, his body heavy and hot against you, "Missed your pussy too, missed everything."

"Don't talk like that," you beg and you don't hear it, but you feel the way that Seungcheol's body reverberates with a chuckle - and you take the opportunity to tug at your own shirt and bra.

"I know you like it," Seungcheol says opening the button of your pants and tugging at each leg.

"I don't anymore," you say just because you feel like you need to pick a fight really. To look like it is harder to rip you apart at the seams, to make Seungcheol think it is not that easy to wreck you. 

To make Seungcheol think it's harder to have you again.

"I know you do," Seungcheol says lifting your leg and kissing your ankle, and you feel if it's not normal to feel so much. "I can see you do still like it." Seungcheol's voice drops and you can see his eyes on your pussy, his knuckle pressing on it over your panties, you can see how wet it feels, and god you feel so ashamed because you want it so much, and because Seungcheol knows.

You can feel how red your skin is. Seungcheol lies between your legs. He rearranges your position, opening more your legs, putting one of your thighs on his shoulder. "Don't need to lie to me," He says before slowly biting on the meat of your thigh, his hands holding you in place when you buckle. 

Seungcheol kisses your pussy over your panties and you bite on your tongue, you hold yourself back. "God, I even miss the way you smell," Seungcheol says and you feel faint - and you tug at the sheet almost crying, almost begging.

But before you say anything you feel him tugging at your panties and you don't move, you just let Seungcheol move your body to his pleasure, taking your panties off but putting your legs the same way as before. 

You feel Seungcheol digits against your folds and you bite your tongue again - trying to hold back. But when his thumb presses on your clit you can't resist calling his name. "Shh, it's okay baby," Seungcheol says before his tongue is on you, making your head spin.

You ask yourself again how you survived without him. 

Because with Seungcheol was just so easy. 

Seungcheol doesn't ask what you like he already knows.

Seungcheol knows how to pin your hips down, with his hand splayed, because you like how strong he is. Seungcheol knows how to lick your folds, how to suck on your clit, how to tease you with his fingers. 

"Can you-" you try to ask for it, but when you look down between your legs you see Seungcheol looking at you, seeking your reactions, trying to catch every little detail, and before you can ask again Seungcheol is nodding against your pussy, mouth not leaving it for a second even thoughyou are bucking your hips.

And then you feel his fingers against your entrance. And it is Seungcheol he knows how you like it, but he knows too much, he teases you first, just the knuckle against your hole.

"Seungcheol, please," you ask again, accepting that you lost the war, accepting that you can't pretend anymore because you know Seungcheol will only give you when you ask for it.

But you asked for it so he gives to you. 

He starts fucking you slowly with his fingers, his tongue never leaving your clit. 

You feel like you are going insane, it's just too much - his hand’s strong grounding your hips, the way that his mouth closes against your clit, the way that his fingers enter you, the way his eyes never leave yours.

And before you can say anything you are cumming against his tongue, Seungcheol laps at it like he wants to feel your taste on his tongue, like he wants every drop of it.

"Always loved your mouth." You say before Seungcheol kisses you and you can taste yourself on his tongue.

Seungcheol lifts his body, kneeling on the mattress, and finally takes his shirt off, "wait," you call for him, and you look at him. And god he is so fucking pretty all over. He always has been. You touch him, hands against his stomach, and you wish you can make him feel like he does to you. 

You sit on the bed, Seungcheol's position making him taller than you, but it is not a problem when the difference makes it easier to kiss his pecs. And Seungcheol holds the back of your neck, his eyes again, never leaving you, making sure he sees every tiny fraction of every little touch. 

You don't know if you actually forgot, or, if you just locked the memories away in a tiny part of your brain, but when you see Seungcheol so pilant against your touch - against one of your hands on his stomach, the other touching his pecs and mouth sucking at his skins it is like it's unlock something on you.

"Did you miss it?" You ask hand working on Cheol's pants, palming him in the process.

"Hun?" He asks voice low, like he didn't catch the meaning behind the question.

"The way I make you feel," you answer, hand underneath his underwear, touching his hard dick. "Did you miss it?" You ask again, looking Seungcheol in the eyes.

"So fucking much," he answers and you can see how his body reacts to every single touch you give him, you lower Seungcheol's underwear, just enough so his cock springs free - red and leaking, and God you wish you could forget how many time Seungcheol split you open with his dick, but you can't, you think you remember each and every time, "Thought about it every day."

"Can you fuck me?" You ask Seungcheol, fingers wrapped around his dick, pumping him slowly, thumb rubbing against his tip, and you can see his body twitch, but Seungcheol just lets you do whatever you want with him.

"How do you want me?" he asks.

"You know how," you say it because it is true. Seungcheol knows how to eat you, how to fuck you, how to split you open, he knows how to make you feel good, and how to make you cry. 

"Come on," He says hand on your shoulder making you lay down again, and you whine because the action made you set his dick free "You asked me to fuck you" his hands wrap around your leg and make your body turn to the side. 

And it is just so hot, how Seungcheol can manhandle you, can make you turn and move, but still cave into every and each one of your whims. You ask and he answers it. You ask him to jump and he asks how high. 

Seungcheol lays on the bed, his front pressed against your back, his strong arms around you, his lips against your neck, his dick against your ass. 

Your mind goes back to how big Seungcheol is, how he doesn't let space for anyone else.

But you come back to reality when you feel Seungcheol's dick going against your pussy. Seungcheol mumbles against the skin of your shoulder, but you are so gone that you don't actually pay attention to it. 

When Seungcheol starts fucking you you are halfway there. You hold Seungcheol's arms, your nails marking his skin. "You take me so fucking well," Seungcheol says before his teeth find the flesh of your shoulder. "Do you need-" You don't let him finish, tugging at his hair, searching for his mouth - and the kiss is messy and sloppy, and when Seungcheol's fingers find your pussy again you just moan on his mouth.

"Are you-" Seungcheol asks, and you know what he wants to say in the way his hips fall in rhythm the way his other hand tightens against your ass, the way with every stroke he goes deeper and deeper. And you nod because it is the truth, you are so close to it that you feel like your bones are melting.

And you just let it hit you, let the wave of the orgasm wash over your body. And you know Seungcheol is close by the way he pants against your neck, by the way, his strong hands hold your thigh - until you feel him cum on you.

You can feel your heart beating against your chest. You can feel the way Seungcheol's dick slips off you, and the way your back feels sweaty against his chest. You squirm a little trying to put some distance between your bodies.

"Stay," Seungcheol murmurs against your shoulder while enveloping you in his embrace, tugging you closer and you do. You stay because Seungcheol still makes you fall in love with him every single chance he gets, but your mind is still wrapped around the feeling that maybe, you two, are not meant to be, one of the lovers that could be so fucking beautiful and that marked your life, that is a before Seungcheol and after Seungcheol in your life.

But, deep down you know, that you just got tired of asking for more.

Now you don't want a lover that you need to ask for it - even though you know Seungcheol would never say no to you, but for once, you think that you want someone who gives to you without being asked for.

I love the beginning, the moonlight is calling I know we'll go up but we'll end up freefalling

#Choi Seungcheol fic #Choi Seungcheol fanfic #Choi seungcheol imagines #Choi Seungcheol smut #Seungcheol fic #Seungcheol fanfic #Seungcheol imagines #Seungcheol smut #Seventeen fanfic #Seventeen fic #Seventeen imagines #Seventeen smut #seventeen x reader #svt fic #svt fanfic #svt smut #svt imagines #t: writting #t: choi seungcheol #t: the loveliest time

[heartbreak-sandwich]

Summary: Getting caught speeding has its consequences. When you realize it's all fun and games for the both of you, you're willing to play along for the reward. A secret and spontaneous getaway in the woods -- it's the perfect place to work out your differences, don't you think? Words: 2.2k CW: Gator being kind of a dick, police encounter (pulled over for speeding), unprotected p/v sex, fem!reader, misogynistic overtones if you squint, minor oral fixation, technically public encounter. A/N: I'm sorry it has taken me so long to post! I really struggled through this one, but I've gotten it to a place where I'm okay with it. I hope you enjoy it, and thank you so much for reading my thing!!!

NSFW below the cut, 18+, MDNI as usual ✨

The air is thick with fog, and you let out a long sigh while you wait for the deputy to approach your driver’s side window. The red and blue lights flash in your rearview mirror, and you start to feel heavy with resentment for last night’s power outage that reset your alarm clock, causing you to wake up half an hour later than usual. You know you were speeding; you can’t deny that. You’re late for work, and this pitstop is the last thing you need right now.

You sigh with disappointment when you realize Gator Tillman is trudging through the roadside gravel to your window. Why did it have to be him?

“Mornin’, sunshine.” Gator grins smugly, a toothpick hanging half out of the side of his mouth. “Where are you off to in such a hurry?”

“I’m late for work,” you grumble, avoiding making eye contact with him.

You two have a history, if you can even call it that. Half-memories flash through your mind of the one night stand you had after a heart to heart and one too many at the saloon downtown. If you’re being totally honest with yourself, Jack Daniels and summer evenings still make you think of him, but you’d never say it out loud.

“Goin’ 69 in a 60, huh?” Gator holds back a giggle as he waits for your response.

“Really, Tillman?” Your eyes narrow at his juvenile comment, and his smile falls flat. His mood shifts in an instant, and you see him push a small button on his body worn camera followed by a series of small beeps as it powers on.

“Just so you’re aware, you’re being audio and video recorded. The reason I stopped you is you were going approximately 69 miles per hour in a 60 mile per hour zone, clearly marked. License and registration,” he demands coldly, holding out his hand expectantly. You search through your glovebox for the documents and hand them over, steeping in the icy silence surrounding you, thinking that maybe if you had just laughed at his joke, he would have let you go on your way.

Gator takes your documents, shuffling them as he looks each one over before speaking to you once more. “You sit tight. I’ll be right back.” You prop your elbow up against your door and rest your head in your hand, letting your mind wander as you try your best to be patient.

After just a few minutes, you see Gator sauntering your way again through your sideview mirror. The way he walks makes your stomach flutter as more flashes of your night together run through your train of thought – his teeth sinking into your plush thighs one by one, the hungry growl rumbling from deep within his chest as he tasted you, and the pathetic whimper he couldn’t hold back as he pushed his desperate, twitching cock into you for the first time –

“Here you go, Miss.” Your daydream is cut short by his drawl as he hands your papers back to you. “I’m going to need you to step out of the vehicle now.” Your eyebrows shoot up in disbelief at his request. Why the hell is he doing this?

“Excuse me?” You ask, incredulous.

“Am I speakin’ Chinese?” Gator was serious. He wasn’t budging. You’re kicking yourself on the inside at this point, knowing he was only doing this to get back at you for bruising his ego over his stupid joke. A pang of regret hits low in your chest as you realize telling him you were late for work was a mistake.

“Gator, please –”

“Don’t make this harder on yourself, sweetheart. Step on out now.” He looks far off into the fog as he waits for you to comply, but you don’t move. Taking the toothpick out from between his teeth, he points it at you, cocking his head to the side. “You don’t want me to ask again.”

“What is it you want from me?”

“What do I want from you?” Gator chuckles, bending down to rest his forearms on your car, his head dipping into your window to meet your eyes. He hits the small button on his body cam once more, and you hear the device power down. “You know what I want,” he whispers softly, being careful not to let the rest of the world hear him. He leans in further until your faces are only inches apart. Your heartbeat hammers in your ears as you take in the scent of his musk mixed with remnants of fruity smoke, and you’re suddenly feeling lightheaded.

And just like that, you’re drowning in flashbacks again – the candy sweet taste of watermelon flavor on his tongue, his hair falling into his eyes as he fucked into you hard and slow, and the way he begged you to say his name as you came for him – and now you’re aching to play his games. You know exactly how to get him going. Softening your expression, you concede to the heat building in between your thighs, and despite the bone-cracking urge to mouth off to him, you try something new instead.

You decide to comply and let yourself out of your car, closing the door behind you, and you see a hint of shock flash over his features as he fights to keep his composure. He clears his throat.

“Place your hands on the hood of the vehicle,” Gator orders, and you follow his instruction dutifully. You palm the hood of your car, a seductive curve in your spine, and you can tell his resolve is starting to crumble with the way he’s eyeing you up and down, biting his bottom lip.

“Do you like me like this? Helpless?” Your eyes grow round and wide with innocence – the look of prey – and you notice Gator’s eyebrows raise just a fraction, but he ultimately maintains his poker face.

“Maybe,” he admits, his voice low and gravelly, dark chocolate eyes boring into yours. “Maybe I like having that kind of authority. Maybe I like knowing I could do whatever I wanted to you right now, and there isn’t anything you could do about it.” He approaches you slowly, each step making your anticipation burn brighter.

“Just maybe?”

“Okay,” he admits with a scoff. “You got me. I do like it.” He leans in closer to you so you can feel his breath on your lips. “I like you helpless because I like knowing that if you were to beg and pray, I would have the power to tell you no.” He lets the tips of his fingers brush up against your arm gently. “I like knowing that there would be nothing you could say or do to stop me from…” he trails off, a smirk playing on his lips as he licks his teeth.

“From what?”

Gator’s hands glide up to hold your wrists, removing your touch from the hood of your car. He pulls one of your hands to meet his jaw, grazing your soft skin over his stubble before pressing an almost chaste kiss to the tips of your fingers.

“From doing anything and everything I could dream of doing to a woman,” he murmurs, grinning against your skin. He grips both of your wrists firmly in front of him once more and pulls you against himself roughly as he makes his demand. “Now, ask me again, politely, what it is I want.”

“I think I already know,” you whisper against his lips playfully before he crashes them into yours, his strong arms circling your waist. He grips your asscheeks from underneath and pushes you up onto the hood of your car as he licks along your bottom lip, and you deepen the kiss. His tongue rolls over and over yours, lips locking perfectly together, and you can taste his familiar sweetness as he pushes his hips into you, grinding his already hard cock against your sweet spot over your jeans.

You moan into his mouth as his thrusts become even more needy, and your nails dig into his shoulder blades through his shirt. You’re not even thinking about the fact that anyone could drive by at any moment and see what’s happening – you’re too tangled up in each other to care. In a swift motion, Gator swipes at the bill of his hat and throws it to rest on the hood of the car beside you. His body weight presses into you before he finally breaks away, taking a deep breath and looking at you with wild eyes.

You suppress a smile as you take in the way he surveys you, soaking up his energy, loving every sick second of stroking his ego, giving him glimpses of the control he craves and getting your own physical satisfaction in return. You have him right where you want him, and he has no idea.

“Should we go somewhere?” Gator’s crooked smile makes your knees feel weak as his gaze flicks back and forth between your eyes and lips, and you can tell he’s doing his best to behave at least long enough to pose the question.

“Where?”

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

The ground underneath the picnic blanket is hard and uneven, but you don’t even feel it anymore. The sun speckles everything around you through the trees, and you vaguely notice the rustling of leaves and twigs as the birds change branches above you every so often. Gator had taken the two of you in his cruiser just far enough up the nearest hill to escape the fog, and the nip in the air didn’t bother you at all as soon as he was on top of you, in between your legs, tactical gear still in place while he ran his hands over your body, his hungry eyes feasting on every curve.

He started slow and gentle, purring soft requests in between light touches everywhere you wanted them. It didn’t take you long to realize he was playing you the same way you were playing him, and now you’re here, rolling your hips languidly as you ride him, using the straps and pockets on the front of his vest for more leverage.

He’s a moaning mess underneath you, his blunt nails digging into the flesh of your thighs as he grips them to stay grounded in reality. You let yourself wonder for a split second if anyone has ever pleased him like this before – if he has ever been so loud, so free, so incessantly desperate for more of someone like he is right here, right now, with you.

You pick up your pace and lean back just enough to put yourself on full display for him, his length reaching the perfect angle inside of you, eliciting a filthy whine you couldn’t stifle if you tried. Your eyes brim with tears as the pleasure builds at your core like an explosion threatening to detonate at any moment. You reach down and pry one of Gator’s hands from your thigh, bringing his fingertips up to your kiss-swollen lips.

He grins through his own bliss as he realizes what you’re about to do. Almost unable to form words, he breathes, “I swear, you’re tryin’ to kill me, woman.” With a sinful smile, you graze two of his fingers past your lips and teeth along your tongue until they reach the back of your throat. Creating the perfect amount of suction, you move his fingers in and out of your mouth in time with your hips, your pussy flexing around his cock with the idea of being just a little bit more full of him.

A strangled half sob slips past Gator’s lips through his gritted teeth as his brows knit together, and his free hand pulls you down onto him harder and faster, the lewd sounds of flesh on flesh filling the space around you.

“Gonna cum. Don’t fuckin’ stop,” he demands, a string of expletives following just as the wave of your own climax crashes over you. Sordid sounds pour from your mouth as you release his fingers from its grasp, gushing and writhing on his cock in a way you know you’ll be ashamed to relive after this.

You feel a bruising grip on your thighs as he holds you down, burying himself up to the hilt in your soaked pussy while his hips buck and spasm against his will.

“Gonna fill you up so good,” he growls just before you feel a hot rush inside of you, his thick release coating your walls in bursts as his mouth falls open and his eyes roll back, his fingertips clawing into your skin, holding on for dear life.

Coming down from your high, you use your hands on his chest to steady yourself, resting your weight on your knees as you both catch your breath. The sounds of the woods in the background become louder again as you take in your surroundings.

“Damn,” Gator breathes, letting out a sigh and a small chuckle.

“Been a while,” you muse, a smirk playing on your lips as your eyes meet his once again.

“Sure has,” he agrees. “Can’t keep me waitin’ like that again.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” you promise with a cheeky wink.

tagging: @mrprettywhenhecries @b1tchywheeler @stevesxyellowxsweater @atinyliliflower @darleenjade @floredaqueen - ily guys, thank u for your encouragement and love, it means the world to meeeee!!! 💕

#gator tillman #gator tillman x reader #gator tillman smut #fargo s5 fanfic #gator tillman fanfic #gator tillman x fem!reader #gator tillman x you #I really hope this is suitable #yes he keeps his gear on because....why the hell not #fanfic writing #fargo fanfic #gator tillman fanfiction #it's a shoddy banner but you know what? it's fine

[babyleostuff]

hi! could u do minghao as ur bf?

sure thing! here is your mingaho request! hope you'll enjoy this one <3

MINGHAO AS YOUR BOYFRIEND

genre | a lot of fluff

author's note | if you want me to write this with any other member that I haven't done yet, let me know <3

𓆩♡𓆪 I believe in cuddly Minghao when he’s tired

𓆩♡𓆪 he is cuddly even when not tired 

𓆩♡𓆪 but I just know that he hangs off of you like a koala after a tiring day 

𓆩♡𓆪 he has his arms tightly wrapped around you from behind, while he rests his head on top of yours (or your shoulder if you’re taller)

𓆩♡𓆪 and just waddles behind you, not letting you go 

𓆩♡𓆪 will coo at you at the most random times if you’re being extra cute to him 

𓆩♡𓆪 you’re the definition of the aesthetic couple 

𓆩♡𓆪 even if you’re not that into fashion, it’s just an excuse for Minghao to dress you up and complete different outfits for you (with some items from his own wardrobe) 

𓆩♡𓆪 not because he thinks your fashion sense is bad, it’s just one of his passions and he genuinely enjoys putting together matching outfits and dressing you up 

𓆩♡𓆪 and if you already have a specific type of aesthetic, he will try to look for such pieces of clothing to buy and match with you 

𓆩♡𓆪 like Jun, is very glad that he can share his culture with you 

𓆩♡𓆪 takes you on multiple trips around China whenever he has free time from schedules 

𓆩♡𓆪 even though you were very nervous before meeting his family, he knew that they’d love you endlessly (just like he does)

𓆩♡𓆪 unlike Jun, he is not that good of a Chinese teacher 

𓆩♡𓆪 teaches you cuss words and corny pick up lines 

𓆩♡𓆪 so, in the end, you have to turn to Jun to get some proper teaching 

𓆩♡𓆪 you are his muse and a number one source of inspiration 

𓆩♡𓆪 another basic ass cliche, but he loves taking pictures of you and most of the time, you’re not even aware that he is taking them 

𓆩♡𓆪 but those caught off guard photos are the best, as he always insists that they capture the “real you”

𓆩♡𓆪 has a whole album of your photos, both on his phone, as well as a physical album 

𓆩♡𓆪 because he wants to make sure that one day when you’re older, you can sit down and open a physical album and look back at your youth through those photos 

𓆩♡𓆪 loves to take you out on museum dates 

𓆩♡𓆪 you stand side by side, holding hands and talk about the art 

𓆩♡𓆪 sometimes you make the stupidest and most random interpretation of the art pieces, which make you both laugh out loud 

𓆩♡𓆪 besides being the aesthetic couple, you’re also the sassy and judgy duo 

𓆩♡𓆪 even if you didn’t consider to be such before meeting Minghao, YOU ARE NOW 

𓆩♡𓆪 because what can be better than side eyeing people with your boyfriend 

𓆩♡𓆪 like, your basic sunday afternoon consists of drinking tea and spilling the tea (you see what I did there)

𓆩♡𓆪 tries to teach you how to meditate 

𓆩♡𓆪 shows you different ceremonies of making tea 

𓆩♡𓆪 you even agree to attend some yoga classes 

𓆩♡𓆪 (how it turns out is all up to you, personally I HATE meditating cuz I just keep laughing, SORRY HAO)

𓆩♡𓆪 he doesn’t really get jealous, not because he doesn’t care about you, but because he trusts you some damn much 

𓆩♡𓆪 if he sees anyone trying to flirt with you, he simply comes up to you, puts his arm around your waist, kisses your shoulder or cheek and sends you a gentle smile

𓆩♡𓆪 he just knows that you’re endgame and no one has the power to change that 

𓆩♡𓆪 likes to read with you (or to you) before sleep 

𓆩♡𓆪 it helps him to relax and it always makes him feel more connected to you 

𓆩♡𓆪 he tries to teach you their dances 

𓆩♡𓆪 and if you’re not feeling confident or you think you look silly, he chooses other, easier dances

𓆩♡𓆪 because even if you’re not the best dancer in the world, he’ll make you feel like you are one

your messages <3

#seventeen imagines #seventeen #seventeen reactions #seventeen x reader #seventeen x you #svt reactions #seventeen fluff #seventeen carat #seventeen kpop #svt fluff #minghao x reader #minghao #minghao imagines #the8 #svt #xu minghao #minghao fluff #minghao headcanons #svt the8 #seventeen the8 #the8 x reader #myungho #the8 x you #the8 x y/n #seventeen reaction

[mywitchcultblr]

I'm done with your purity

I'm fucking done with all of you westerners fucks who take your freedom for granted. AO3 was banned in china because pissy fans reporting RPF TO THE GOVERNMENT UNDER FALSE REPORT OF PEDO OR WHATEVER thus making life a living hell for Chinese writers and fans. ALSO LET ME TELL YOU that fanfic and AO3 is a safe space for many oppressed LGBT people outside of the west

I can't fucking say that I'm trans and bi without having people beating the shit out of me, but I can fuckin' write that I'm gay as fuck in fanfic or writing gay shit about my fave with fanfic

Imagine some people defending state wide censorship over fanfic, because they don't like icky fanfic, that's a sign that either you are brainwashed or fucking privileged and taking your freedom for granted. You know why Asian and other non western USA-European are more chill with fanfic and fandom?

Why we are less prone to make some stupid callout over fanworks?

Because most of us doesn't have the same information and expression privilege like the west, we take any freedom that we can have

That's in 2017... There's probably more than one million websites being censored rn. I cannot even buy pride pin here because NO ONE outside of internet selling it! The censorship always begin from "banning information to protect children and moral from nsfw" down to censoring Spongebob Squarepants

You don't like something? Just don't fucking read it, it wouldn't stop the author to write and when they do stop writing usually after they are harassed so bad to the point of mental break down or suicide. What the actual fuck...

Defending and supporting state wide censorship because you want to feel superior on the internet is beyond stupid and it showing your privilege... Also yah fuck you who defend china aggressive state wide censorship because adult x adult RPF icky or whatever, I like reading Tom Hiddleston x Reader, because I'm lonely and it's fun. Don't lie that you never thinking of marrying your favorite celebrities or dreaming about dating Gerard Way.

What the fuck you gonna do about it? Crucify my ass? So long you are not shoving it to the person's face, who give a fuck? It's not a justifiable ground to cheer for government mandated national wide censorship. A lot of westerners are so privileged and terminally online to the point their mind revolve around online discourse 24/7 I'm not saying discourse has no damn merits but you get what I said...

Some people particularly white westerners are so privileged they have the chance to goes back 180° and agreeing with conservative mindset they claim to hate so much... Also your kink critical bullshit and your bullshit crusading over dark stories? Yeah. Heavily influenced by TERF and conservatism. Newsflash...

I'm not a person who agree with all ship or stories, i don't claim any moral high ground. I was so scared of getting cancelled due to the hostile neo puritan fandom culture, but seeing people defending China great firewall and aggressive censorship finally broke something inside of me and I cannot stay quiet

I don't give a fuck about your fanfic discourse, If i don't like something i just wouldn't fucking engage with it and wouldn't read...

I'm done, I'm tired. Fucking tagging this shit as anti vs pro because i need to get the message out there and LET THE CHAOS begin

( When you want to escape your country censorship to the internet but then you see the supposed liberated westerners people wanting censorship because they want to feel moral. Yes there are even westerners who don't want to see anything even remotely 'problematic' example: they will attack Zutara or fuckin' Reylo shipper whatever. See? You are terminally online and so privileged... Congratulations... Here's your fucking medal and gold star)

#ao3 #fanfic #shipping #shipping discourse #terminally online #puriteens #puritan #china #censorship #SEA #Indonesia #fandom #fandom wank #purity wank #fandom discourse #fandom critical #rpf #archives of our own #lgbt #politics #antis #vs #pro ship #asia

[onyourhyuck]

KEEP IT A SECRET. | Lee Haechan (M)

↳ Prologue: “My god— Haechan, stop kissing me like you actually mean it. I’m starting to read the signals wrong.” + “I’m going to be blunt with you. I don’t want to be friends who fool around each other anymore. Kiss me back like you’re in love with me.”

↳ Summary: It all goes wrong at a Christmas party. You’re dancing with Johnny and Doyoung, your friends with benefits Haechan gets jealous and starts making out with you in someone’s bedroom.

↳ Warnings: FWBS established relationship, but it leads to a real relationship after. Romance. Slight angst. Kinda fluffy. SUGGESTIVE though at the end. Christmas party mention. Jealous!hyuck. Fem reader.

↳ Notes: KINKMAS. I’m in love with bare face haechan.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Haechan isn’t that easily jealous. Actually that’s a lie, he does get jealous easily but he wouldn’t ever admit to it. Surely everyone would get jealous when you see your friend dancing with two of your other friends, but with that friend you’re fucking behind the close doors and no one knows.

Anyone would be jealous if they were in his place. Seeing you grind against Johnny’s stomach and lightly caressing Doyoung’s arms on the side. His eyes squint like a deadly gun pointing its trigger at the sight in front of him not so afar.

He clench his jaw looking away when Yangyang comes along tapping his shoulder.

“Hey man what’s got you in a pissy mood?” Yangyang mentions as he gulps down a shot. Haechan shakes his head murmuring loosely, but his eyes were only paying ATTENTION to you. No one else. He didn’t spare to look at Yangyang once. You’re all his body, mind and soul knows. He needs you around him. How he wishes he was in Doyoung and Johnny’s space. He needs your attention and time.

Yangyang let’s out a wow when he realised who his friend was eyeing so dangerously. “Ahhh someone’s jealous. You into Y/n?” He throws.

The tan boy looks up giving him a sting eye. “Why?” He suspiciously asks and the Chinese boy smirks, the alcohol was definitely getting to him. He wonders how many shots he had. “I’m just asking bro. She’s hot as hell. I suggest if you wanna get a piece of her do it now. Or else these two will get to her first.” Yangyang trots.

Haechan rolls his eyes. “Yang I’ve already had a piece of her. I’ve had many pieces of her. But I’m starting to get greedy. I want more.” He agonised.

“No way you hit it?” Yangyang exclaims in wonders thoughts, though he’s afraid if he should ask the boy considering how jealous he is right now. “How was it?” He smugly nudges Haechan’s shoulder.

He stands up patting Yangyang’s shoulder before walking in front. “You don’t gotta know bro, relax.” Haechan tells to the boy behind as he leaves. Soon reaching in her perimeter he snuck his hand around your waist dragging you around to face him. The glowing lights above darkens your faces but even so, you could tell who this was just by the singular touch he plants on your body. It was Haechan. Your lips open but nothing came out, Johnny and Doyoung were distracted so he took his chance moving you out of the dance floor. A cold wall slaps your shoulders when you were impactful thrown against it, your arms stuck above impaled by another stronghold as he held it there. Mouth roughly kissing yours not leaving any place that hasn’t been abused him his greedy lips. He was kissing you with so much passion, it starts to throw you off.

You and Haechan kissed many times. In fact you kissed in so many ways, you weren’t sure why this kiss has thrown you off the bridge. Your mind kept on analysing how different this kiss to the ones you’ve done in the past with him. This kiss, felt loving, felt far too emotional. He wasn’t using lust with you. He wasn’t looking for a fuck at first. He was searching for feelings deep inside you.

No words were spoken between you guys, you couldn’t speak even if you wanted to because this man in front of you has you under his mercy. Though eventually you broke the kiss, leaving your chest heavily moving up and down. Haechan softy pants as he looks down at you, leaning forward keeping the distance close, far too close. Your trembling and swollen red lips, “My god— Haechan, stop kissing me like you actually mean it. I’m starting to read the signals wrong.” You tell him shakily. You said what you needed to, but even then your brain was overthinking the situation. The actions. You were suspicious of Haechan.

Something in his eyes changes the way he looks at you how, they weren’t longer the eyes you once knew but the eyes you have changed. You’re the catalyst. Haechan had many friends with benefits before, he’s not new at this. Neither are you. But somehow he fell for you, he fell first, he fell harder than anyone ever could. He’s scared to admit it but after seeing you with two of his friends grinding on your bodies like it was nothing he realised he would rather be first to mess up than to actually lose you because he’s unable to express himself. You aren’t sure why he was so quiet until his rasp out voice with genuine emotion hits your heart.

“I’m going to be blunt with you. I don’t want to be friends who fool around each other anymore. Kiss me back like you’re in love with me.”

He demands as he tightened his hold on your wrist, biting down the bottom lips he eels closer to you closing the gap. Your eyes widen and somehow you felt the urge to do so. You lean closer closing the gap and this time your lips moving in synch, brews a loving potion for him. Haechan moans in the kiss loving the way you hit the sweetest spot on him, you nibble on his bottom lip and somehow his hands loosen on the grip letting your wrist free; you suddenly deepens the kiss by wielding your hands on his jawline, pushing him back against a wall and hungrily making out with your friend who’s deeply in love with you. Begging for more.

Your warmth combined irks your skin to grow a scorching red and as more the mouths create waves in synch. Hands manoeuvre underneath your thighs, with strength riding through them you felt your entire weight lift against the wall, wrapping your ankles round his waistline pushing him into your fabric cover core, slips out a cherishing moan to his ears. He sloppy sucks on your bottom lip, pulling away where his breathing hits your neck, kissing down the sidelines reaching the collarbones he sucks on there leaving purple and reddish hues on your perfectly even skin. You sigh out of relief. Rushing fingertips through his beautiful thick black locks of curls, waving them in massaging motions. You grip on it, pulling it with a tug, in response you hear Haechan mush over with excitement ridging in his body as he lets out a groaning smile ear to ear.

“Fuck. Do that again.” He urges you desperately, unbuttoning your shirt sliding it off your shoulders so lightly. You pull on his hair rougher this time so he can lean backwards to look at your daring eyes.

You murmur lowly, “Haechan. What are we?” You couldn’t help but wonder where you stand with him. Is it something more? Does he want something more or was it a moment of realisation he was wrong? You couldn’t help but wish for something more too, a little more than friends that use each other’s bodies for pleasuring satisfaction.

He leans closer pecking your forehead. He pulls apart after planting a soft kiss, whispering in your hair. “I want to be with you. Not as friends. But lovers.” Haechan stays buried in your silky hair, sniffing the beautiful aroma scent of your chocolaty perfume.

You blush feverishly at his words. “Then from now on. You’re mine and I am yours.”

No longer will you keep it a secret. Your boyfriend cups your face kissing you once more, this time more softly as he whispers. “No longer a secret. Tell everyone who you belong to.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

@onyourhyuck please refer from translating, copyrighting and plagiarising my work thank youu. REBLOG THIS FIC AND FOLLOW ME FOR MORE IF YOU ENJOYED <3

#nct fanfiction #nct smut #nct x reader #nct u scenarios #nct hard hours #nct series #nct fic #haechan fanfic #nct dream haechan #haechan drabbles #haechan imagines #haechan fluff #nct haechan smut #haechan hard thoughts #haechan headcanons #haechan hard hours #nct dream hard thoughts #nct fanfic

[intuitive-divinations]

Are you in the mood for love? 😘

Hello darlings😙! I got a new gorgeous oracle deck today😻! It’s art inspired me to do a tarot spread on your next relationship❤️‍🔥. Take a few deep breaths 😮‍💨 and use your intuition 👁️ .

✨ Pick - A - Photo ✨

Picture 1 🌹

#26 Full Spectrum, 4 of Coins reversed, 5 of Cups, 4 of Swords, Ace of cups

Group 1, can I give you a hug first ? 🫂. Omg it seems like you’ve been going through it when it comes to your relationships😭. I sense that you gave so much of yourself to a past relationship such as an ex or situationship, etc. Now you’re feeling the loss of yourself/resources you gave. I’m seeing your energy is a battery and it’s EMPTY 🪫 . I get the feeling that this past person was deceitful in some ways. That deceit motivated you to isolate yourself and have a negative view on love. It honestly feels like you’re somewhat lonely group 1🥺. On the brightside, your next relationship will fulfill all your wants and desires. Maybe you’re past person cheated on you? I’m hearing your next person is VERY LOYAL and they’d never do you like that 💀! They literally only have eyes for you. This person also won’t be afraid to display their love for you whether it’s in public or private. They could have alot of Leo/fire placements ♌️ 🔥 . They’re going to be proud to have you🤭. Your spread is also telling me that you have to look at the bigger picture of this situation. Understand that these past failed relationships are only preparing you for the best. No more giving 100% of your love and getting only 5% back. It’s making sure that you attract someone new who is willing to make you a priority and show you how to be loved. 😮‍💨❤️‍🔥

Picture 2 🌹

#30 Healing, 7 of Swords, Ace of Wands, The Devil, The Magician

Whew 😮‍💨! Group 2 your next relationship is so co-creative 🧬 . Your next person is going to be a source of healing for you. I actually sensed angels during this reading 😇 . I got goosebumps all over my body when I asked to feel their energy as confirmation✅. You’re very protected group 2! I’m seeing that your angels are guiding you towards someone who might actually be a healer on earth 🌎 . I’m picking up on reiki masters, shamans, breathwork specialists, etc. They could also be a doctor but they would be different in some way. For example, instead of western medicine they could specialize in Ayurveda or traditional Chinese medicine. I got curious and asked what your next person will help heal within you and it said your attachments⛓️! You have some very addictive/obsessive attachments. It could go from physical attachments like drugs or it could be mental attachments like self-sabotaging beliefs etc. Regardless of what it is, your next person will trigger your healing🪬. They’ll help you discover your highest potential. It’s going to suck because you’ll be forced to overcome these things but it will be worth it in the end! 🪄Your person has a beautiful energy and it feels like they are a gift from your spirit team 🎁 . After your healing journey you could start a business venture with this person or even have children. You’ll be creating alot of things with your person🗝️. This is definitely going to be a journey for you so buckle up. 11:11 could be significant.

Picture 3 🌹

#25 Freedom, 6 of Coins, 10 of Coins, The Hermit, 3 of Wands

Group 3, y’all are my sugar babies😚! Get ready because you’re next person has alot of sugar to give🤣. They are going to offer you financial freedom. You’re next relationship is going to be with a rich person who’s very GENEROUS! They don’t mind spreading the wealth because they have a lot of it. One word to describe your persons personality would be introvert. Literally, their daily routine is getting that money and then going home and relaxing🏠. They really don’t play about getting their money💀. Taurus/Virgo placements could be significant ♉️ ♍️ . Right now your person may feel kinda lonely. They aren’t really a social party person. They still want someone to have fun with though. Someone they can create memorable experiences with🧳. Traveling is also significant🧭. I’m seeing so many trips and vacations. You are EXACTLY the person they’ve been desiring. You both will be goofy together. Im seeing that your relationship is also full of laughter. I feel like this person is manifesting you subconsciously. They are an extremely powerful manifestor. They could’ve even subconsciously manifested their wealth😳. I’m imagining their energy as a magnet 🧲. You’ll have a day where your normal routine is messed up which will then cause you to meet this person unexpectedly. Yeah they are quite literally going to manifest you into their life💀because they don’t want to change their own routine. Also you and your next person could have an age gap 🙈. Angel number for this group is 222.

Thanks so much 😽 !!

#pick a card #tarot related #tarot community #tarot reading #tarot #oracle reading #pac tarot #pick a picture #pick a pile #pick a pile reading #love reading #pick an image #fs reading #future spouse #future spouse pac #intuitive readings #divination #divination readings #tarotblr #free tarot readings #tarot online #cartomancy #fortune telling #tarot reader #pick a photo #pick a group

[cheolism]

good things from bad days

✧ wen junhui x f!reader ✧ summary: jun returns to the apartment after you've texted him that you've had a bad day. seeing you drunk, jun decides to take care of you like you've taken care of him. only you are much more honest with your feelings when you're not sober. ✧ wc is approx 5.6k ✧ tags: fluff and comedy; roommates-to-lovers, mutual pining. in a relationship but only you two don't know. domesticity, knowing someone intimately. drunken confessions. ✧ warnings: this is not edited. despite jun being sober while reader is drunk, he doesn't do anything that takes advantage of this. this is ultimately: we've loved each other for five years and you admitting you're in love with him while drunk gives jun the push he needs. drink responsibly, kiddos. ✧ drabble sequel here!!!!!

When you had texted Jun that you were having a bad day, Jun didn’t quite know what to expect. You had your fair share of bad days, unfortunately; Jun wished every day was filled with nothing but happiness and contentment for you, but he was just one man and couldn’t fight the whole world. 

(Once, when you were having a bad day, a barista had nearly made you cry. She had given you a once-over, looking you up and down after you gave your order. Then she gave a little huff, irritated, before turning around and walking away.

Jun didn’t throw a punch at the barista because 1) she was, at the most, eighteen, and 2) it just wasn’t in his personality to do so. But he did leave a negative review and said he found a hair in his drink.)

Today had started out good, he had thought. But then around noon he got a message about your boss, and then twenty minutes later you were saying that you just wanted to be home, that you couldn't take another minute at work. His heart had broken, reading that.

But Jun did what he did whenever he noticed you were looking particularly sad. He went out and bought a bouquet of flowers, stopped at the little Chinese place that knew the both of you by name. Left a fiver at the little shrine in the back of the restaurant, placed his palms together, asked for your health and happiness, just as he always did whenever the two of you stopped. 

“Say hi to your lover for me!” Auntie Meilan waved, grinning at him. “Bring them in next time!”

“I will!” Jun called back, saluting and neglecting to correct the Auntie that no, you weren’t his lover, you were just his longtime roommate that he had been in love with for far too long. 

That was all. 

Night had long fallen on the city, street lights dim and headlights bright. Jun hated getting off this late. He hated it because it meant he missed out on the normal mealtime for the both of you, and he knew that instead of you just making food for yourself or even making a meal and saving some of it in the fridge for him to have later, you would hold off on eating altogether until he got home so the two of you could share dinner and talk about your day. 

Which was why he volunteered to grab food. 

Jun’s stomach grumbled as he walked to the car, and if he was a lesser man he would’ve torn open the takeout box and ate his portion right then and there. But he wouldn’t. Couldn’t. No matter how hungry he was. 

“You wouldn’t be so hungry if you actually ate a meal at lunch instead of just eating those shrimp chips you like so much.” You had said once, watching as Jun tore open a container of cherry tomatoes and began eating them whole as soon as he walked through the apartment door. 

He had gasped dramatically, and still chewing the cherry tomatoes, scolding you. “How dare you talk about my precious chips as if they’re nothing more than a mere snack! They’re in a league of their own, they deserve an entire meal dedicated to them --”

“Okay, shrimp boy,” you had amended, your brow furrowing in adorable concern. You had rounded the island and went to the cupboard, withdrawing with a box of pasta. “Hold your horses and I’ll whip up some pasta. Don’t make yourself sick on those.”

The smell of takeout permeated the car, to the point where Jun couldn’t even smell it over the vanilla scentsy you had gotten him. It took far too long for Jun to get to the apartment, and every time the light switched to red Jun wanted to just slam his foot down on the pedal and speed through the intersection. 

But he didn’t. 

The man with the french bulldog was walking the dog around the parking lot when he pulled in, and gave Jun a short wave in greeting. Spotting the takeout bags in Jun’s hands, he called out, “Must be your night to make supper!”

Ignoring how misogynistic that seemed and how Jun was the one to primarily make your meals, Jun gave the man a tight-lipped smile. “Yeah, haha. Nothing like takeout on a Friday night!”

“Tell your sweetheart I said hi!”

Again neglecting to correct the man, Jun made his way into the building. He greeted the old woman who always sat in the foyer because you always greeted her, remembering how you once commented on how she must live alone or feel lonely, to spend her entire day in the front watching people come and go. 

Jun took the elevator on the right, despite knowing that you didn’t trust that particular elevator and all the squeaking and moaning it did. He felt bad for the next person who would use the elevator, knowing they would smell nothing but delicious Chinese food. 

As Jun shoved his key into the hole to unlock your apartment door, he got the distinct feeling that something was off. He didn’t know how he knew, but Jun knew without even stepping foot into the apartment that something was wrong. 

This didn’t dissuade him; instead he hurried in, calling out for you as soon as the door was open. 

“I’m home! Food is acquired and ready for consumption as soon as you are!”

He kicked off his shoes, ignoring the shoe rack you had insisted on buying, and made his way to the kitchen. He set the takeout on the island, peering around the apartment for you. 

As it was Friday, the apartment was slightly a mess. Socks littered the floor, and Jun spotted your pants near the corner of the couch. He entered the space, noting the nearly-empty bottles of vodka and pineapple juice. There was an empty bag of chips -- his shrimp chips. 

He called out your name again, rounding the couch. The living room blankets were in complete disarray, and your laptop was propped up on the coffee table. There were a few crumbs on the couch, and Jun spotted a muffin wrapper on the floor. 

“Wen Junhui!”

Arms were suddenly around his middle, pulling him back and squeezing. Jun immediately knew it was you, and turned in your arms. You were already grinning up at him, slightly too-wide and with eyes that glittered brighter than usual. 

“Junnie,” you whined, pitching forward and burrowing your face into his chest. Bewildered, but slowly coming to a realization, Jun wrapped his arms around your shoulders and held you to him. “I’m so glad you’re here!”

“I’m glad I’m here, too,” he agreed. You tightened your grip around his waist, leading him into a swaying motion. “Are you okay?”

You pouted, resting your chin on his chest in order to look up at him. “No. I had a bad day. And I’m drunk.”

You may be drunk, Jun acknowledged, but you were no less beautiful than when he left you. You were smiling at him like he was your favorite person on the planet, as if he was the person most dear to you, as if he was someone you treasured and loved, and Jun couldn’t help but giggle and bend down to press a swift kiss to your forehead. 

“Yes,” he laughed a little. “You are drunk. I brought food home.”

You gasped, mouth gaping and eyes widening dramatically. “For me?”

“For you!”

Squealing, you burrowed your face into his chest. He hoped you couldn’t hear the way his heart was threatening to leap from it. “You’re amazing! You’re the bestest!”

Squeezing you one last time, Jun reluctantly pulled himself away. While he loved hugging and loving you, and would gladly do nothing but that for days on end, you were drunk and vulnerable. “No, you’re the bestest.”

You frowned at him as he untangled himself, whining. Jun couldn’t help but coo at you, reaching out and pressing your cheeks together. You were so fucking cute. 

“Noooo,” you protested, hands reaching up to cover his. “Youuuuuu!”

“I greatly disagree,” Jun said. He pressed another kiss to your forehead and pulled away. He rounded you, hands going to your shoulders, and began guiding you towards the kitchen. 

Jun was careful to make sure you didn’t hit a hand or foot on the couch leg, gentle and slow enough to ensure you weren’t going to stumble. All the while you were chattering to him, telling Jun about a show you had watched as a child. 

“I don’t know that show,” he admitted, guiding you to sit down at the island. He left your side to return to the takeout, pulling the boxes out of the bag and setting them on the counter. He then went to the dishwasher and pulled out chopsticks. “I grew up in China, remember?”

“Ooh,” you said, eyes wide. It reminded him of Bambi, almost, how innocent and sweet you seemed like this. You were always sweet, he knew, but there was something especially child-like about you when you were like this. “I forgot.”

Jun set your chopsticks in front of you. He then went to the cupboard and withdrew two cups, quickly filling them with water and setting them down on the island. “It’s okay. We can always watch that show later.”

You nodded somberly, puffing out your cheeks. He couldn’t help but grin at how intently you were watching him open up the takeout boxes, your eyes taking in his every move. Jun picked up his chopsticks and clicked them at you once, watching your eyes focus, before reaching for the box of noodles.

“Hey!” You snapped, reaching out and smacking his hand. Jun startled, dropping a blob of noodles on the counter. “Where did you grow up! In a barn? We use plates when eating in this apartment, young man!”

“Yessir!” Jun returned, roughly saluting at you. He stood up and went to the dishwasher, and when he set down two plates you gave him a sharp nod of approval. 

“Good.” You glanced down at the mess of noodles. Frowning, you hopped down from the barstool.

“Where are you going?”

“To clean up your mess, Mr. Junhui,” you slurred, rounding the island to grab paper towels. He couldn’t help but laugh at the serious look on your face, as if he had committed a serious wrong. 

He was going to clean it, of course, after your meal. But he said nothing as you walked to his elbow and leaned against his arm, reaching and collecting the fallen noodles. “Dirty boy.”

Jun nodded, still smiling. “Yes, I’m a dirty boy, aren’t I?”

You returned his nod, still serious. “But you’re my dirty boy.”

Suddenly feeling his heart warm with affection and adoration, Jun inclined his head. “Yes. I’m your boy.”

Satisfied, you tossed the noodles and paper towel into the sink and returned to your seat. You brought the plate between yourself and the boxes, and Jun watched as you, very carefully, lifted your chopsticks and grabbed the box of sesame chicken. 

Even as the two of you ate, you were speaking. Jun listened as you talked about this woman at work who did nothing but complain about her children and husband, but then also said she was trying for a fourth, and how you didn’t think she had ever said a single nice thing about her family since you’ve met her.

Then you were frowning seriously at Jun, pointing at him with your chopsticks. “We won’t end like that no matter what, right, Junnie?”

“Right, darling.”

You set your chopsticks down on the table, reaching out with your other hand. Your hand wrapped around Jun’s cup and brought it to your lips. “Wait -- that’s my cup, I’ve already drank from it, it has my cooties.”

Jun watched you pause for a few seconds, eyeing him over the rim of the cup. And then you raised it to your lips and gulped it. 

“There,” you said, sighing in satisfaction. “Now I have your cooties.”

You then opened up the steamed vegetables, delight taking over your features. Jun continued eating as you shifted through the vegetables, picking out the broccoli and placing each piece on his plate. Jun ate them dutifully, shoving each piece into his mouth. 

“Careful,” you scolded, “you’ll choke.”

Jun watched as you then set down your chopsticks on the counter, the metal clinking against the surface. You pointed at him, peering at him with an extremely serious look on your face that didn’t really suit the situation and had Jun fighting to keep his smile off of his face. 

“Listen here, Wen Junhui,” you slowly began, brows furrowing. “I don’t know how many times I have to tell you to not stuff your mouth. But I’m serious. Choking is not a joke. It’s not fun. Have you ever been choked before?”

You had begun gesturing with your hands during your little speech, and at the end of your statement you waved your hand and sent your cup tumbling. 

Jun jumped up, rushing for the paper towels and rounding the island. You were blinking at the water even as it dripped into your lap, and Jun shoved away the cuteness of how you looked, confused and taken aback, and ushered you off the stoll. 

“Oh,” you mumbled, moving. 

“It’s okay,” he soothed, “we just have a small ocean in our kitchen. I’ll clean it up while you get changed out of your pants.”

He spun a few too many towels from the roll, focusing on turning the cup upright and wiping down the counter before moving onto the mess on the floor. You were still muttering to yourself, and it wasn’t until you made a small “oh” sound, followed by the sound of something hitting the wall, did Jun turn around. 

You were standing in front of him, legs completely bare and leggings sitting sadly on the floor from where you had thrown them against the wall. For a moment Jun couldn’t help but look -- look at your thighs and take in the shape of them, the color; his eyes trailed down over your knee and to your legs, taking in the spots where you had attempting waxing and given up halfway through, leaving bald patches on your leg surrounded by hair.

But fuck, if he didn’t want to wrap his hand around your leg and guide it around his waist, pull you tight against him and feel your body pressed against his. 

“Staring is rude,” you said, flapping your hand towards Jun. 

“Mm,” he hummed, turning his back to you. Jun dropped to the floor, beginning on the small puddle that had formed. “I won’t mention all the staring you do at me when I get out of the shower, then.”

“That’s not fair, though,” you argued. Jun stood, knees cracking, and watched as you stomped your foot. The fat of your thighs jiggled at the movement, and he wanted to dig his fingers into your flesh and see how it molded around his digits. “You know what you look like.”

“I do?”

“Irresistible,” you said matter-of-factly.

He echoed you, the word and its implications not really registering with him until he said it himself. And then the little light in Jun’s head flicked on, and he squinted at you. 

It wasn’t like you made it a habit to be drunk; you didn’t. In the years Jun’s known you, in the years he’s been your roommate, he’s only seen you properly drunk a handful of times. But he knows what you’re like when you’re drunk: you’re giggly, silly, and honest. 

“Alcohol is like a truth serum for me,” you had told him after a few weeks of meeting. “Get me drunk and I’ll tell you anything. It’s why I can’t be President: I’d reveal all the State secrets.”

And sure enough, Jun found out that when you were drunk, you were incredibly honest. He could ask you any question he wanted and you would answer. He had once tested this by asking you if you had ever lied to your grandma before. Sober you had frowned at him and shook your head, saying you had nothing to really lie about; drunk you had bursted into tears, sobbing about how you had lied to her about your whereabouts on your 21st birthday by saying you had been safely drinking with your friends at their apartment instead of being out at clubs. 

So: drunk you was as honest as you could get. You weren’t inherently dishonest, but all of the little things you were ashamed of or kept secret bubbled out. 

Irresistible. 

Truthfully, Jun wanted to poke at this some more. He wanted to ask you to elaborate, and he knew that if he was quiet for much longer you would elaborate yourself. 

But he didn’t. He couldn’t.

It felt wrong doing that. You trusted him. You trusted him when you were sick, when you were drunk, when you were in tears; you trusted Jun when you were at your most vulnerable, and taking advantage of you in this state, even to just question you about your feelings towards him, was wrong. 

Jun instead began talking, filling up the empty space with his own chatter in order to get your mind off of him in the shower. He narrated what he was doing as he did it, loudly, speaking everything as it appeared in his mind. 

“I’m going to throw away these towels. I know you don’t mind it when I leave wrappers around, because you do it too, but I know you hate it when dirty things are left. Like I remember you scolding Seungcheol for leaving his sweaty undershirt in our bathroom. 

“Gosh, I’m going to have to take the trash down next time I leave the apartment. I know you don’t mind doing it, but I also know you don’t like it particularly either. I’m okay with that. You do enough for me, I don’t mind doing this.”

Jun rounded the counter once more, reaching out for you. You went easily, hugging yourself close to him. Despite the alcohol you had drank, you still smelled like you: fresh linen, oranges and lemons, the sort of things that reminded Jun of home. His favorite smells in the world. 

He swooped down and pressed a kiss to your forehead, smoothing your hair away from your face. You blinked up at him lazily at the gesture, eyes taking just a moment too long to open. “Ooh, are you my tired baby?”

You hummed, nodding sleepily. Then you opened your eyes, your arms going over Jun’s to wrap around him in return. “Yes. Your baby.”

Jun tapped his hands against your lower back, leading you into a sway. You complied easily, grinning and rocking back and forth. Your warmth was pressed against his front, your weight in his arms a comforting one. 

Sometimes he felt selfish for having you like this. Like he was keeping you from someone, like he was wrong for keeping you a secret from the world, keeping you up here in your shared apartment. 

Sometimes it felt wrong, leading you into a dance during the late evening, wrapping his arms around you, kissing your forehead. But the thing was, Jun wasn’t stupid. 

You didn’t share an apartment with someone for nearly five years without there being something. You didn’t settle into a routine for five years, didn’t spend hundreds of nights pressed together on the couch watching television; didn’t wait up until late in the night for him to return, didn’t welcome his mother and little brother into the apartment with welcoming smiles and hugs. 

He didn’t remember the last time you went on a date. 

Or: Jun didn’t remember the last time you went on a date that wasn’t with him.

Yes: Jun wasn’t stupid. 

He saw it. He saw how you took care of him, how you always made sure his favorite snacks were in the cupboard; how you went out and bought new soles for his shoes when he complained about his back hurting too much; how you looked at him when he wasn’t looking, how your voice always took this gentle tone with him, as if he was someone precious, someone you treasured. 

He knew you were in love with him. 

Just like he was in love with you. 

But actually saying it, actually bridging the gap? 

Jun sighed, pulling away. He looked down at you, his darling sweetheart with sparkling eyes. He brushed your hair back away from your forehead. “Let’s go find you some pants, baby.”

You blinked up at him, seemingly unable to process. Then you pouted, lips poking out and eyes furrowing. 

Oh, how cute you were --

“‘m not cute,” you childishly protested. You blinked again, and Jun felt his heart plummet when your eyes took on a red hue and tears began to swell. 

“Baby!” He gasped, hands moving to hold your cheeks. Jun brushed away the tears that began to drop with the tip of his fingers, feeling concern bubble up within him. “What’s wrong, darling?”

“You just --” A little sob left you, and you threw yourself forward and into his arms. Jun stumbled back at the sudden addition of your weight, his arms wrapping tightly around you. You nuzzled into him. “You just take such good care of me, Junnie.”

Jun chuckled, squeezing your shoulder. “I’m just returning --”

You shook your head against his chest. He reached up and brushed your hair back again, revealing a single red eye and tear tracks on your cheeks. “You don’t understand, Junnie! You -- you’re so good and handsome and sweet and silly, and I love you so much.”

His heart thudded against his ribcage; he was scared it was going to burst from his chest entirely. 

Jun smiled down at you nonetheless, cupping your cheek in one of his hands. “And I love you.”

“No,” you shook your head again. “You don’t understand. I love you. Like. Like Captain Ri loves Seri.”

Jun’s heart flew out of his chest and left the building. It fucking flew away, soared through the sky and and rounded the earth. As a matter of fact, it took his brain with him, and the two decided to fly up to the moon and wave at the stars. 

“You -- like. Like marry me levels of like?”

“Yes,” you sighed, as if he was dull. “We’re gonna move out of the apartment because we can’t have cats and then move into a little townhouse and adopt two of them so they don’t get lonely, and I’m gonna buy you a ring to match mine and we’ll share a bed and I love you so much.”

Jun’s heart returned to his chest and was fluttering and acting as if it were a butterfly trapped within his ribcage; his brain, however, was still up with the moon and sun. 

Then you grinned up at him, tear tracks still visible against your cheeks. “Dude, we should adopt like, twelve cats.”

And he remembered the bottle of nearly-empty vodka, the spilled water, and his sensibilities. You were drunk, and while you were an honest drunk, it wasn’t fair of him to do this. 

It wasn’t fair of Jun to pester you further, to make you unravel all your secrets; not when you were vulnerable like this. No matter how much he wanted to, how much he yearned to know about the sincerity of your words, he couldn’t. 

Jun pressed a kiss to your forehead again, closing his eyes and exhaling. He felt you mirror him, leaning forward and pressing a kiss to his chest. 

“Love it when you give me kissies,” you mumbled against him. 

“Well, I love kissing you.”

You blinked owlishly up at him, mouth agape. “Really?”

He laughed, both hands going to cup your cheeks and hold your face so he could press another kiss to your forehead. “Really, darling.”

Your smile was brighter than any star or sun in the universe. If you were sober, Jun would swoop down and press a kiss to your lips, but alas. 

Instead he began guiding you towards your room. “I think we should get some pants on, don’t you? Wouldn’t want you getting cold. I heard that if you get too cold you turn into a penguin, no joke.”

“Nuh-uh.”

“Uh-huh,” Jun returned, reaching over to turn on the light of your room. Your room was messy, proof of how hard of a time you’ve been having lately. Clothes were strewn about, and your blankets were in a tangled mess. One of your pillows was on the foot of your bed, and your precious stuffed koala Jun had gotten you during one of his and Joshua’s dates to the fair was on the floor. 

“People don’t turn into penguins, Junnie,” you said. 

“They do if they’re cold,” Jun said. He left you standing in the doorway, moving to your dresser and pulling out a pair of sweats. “That’s how we got penguins. They’re just evolved from cold people.”

You were squinting at him when he returned. Jun held out your pants for a few moments, but you made no move to grab them from him. Finally you took your pants, holding out your hand; he offered his arm, and you held onto Jun as you slowly stepped into your pants one foot at a time. 

“I want you to know that I know you’re making this up,” you told Jun.

Jun laughed, shoulders shaking. He ducked his head, blonde bangs obscuring his vision. Your grip on his arm eased, and your other hand was smoothing back his bangs and revealing his eyes once more. 

“There you are,” you cooed at him, “my pretty boy.”

Then you yawned, wide enough to where Jun swore he saw down your throat. Despite seeing that, Jun still felt nothing but love for you as you blinked up at him sleepily, smiling like a dope.

“Okay, why don’t you lay down in your bed?” Jun pulled away, capturing your hand and pressing a kiss to your fingers. “I’m going to go get you some water, and then I’ll be back. All right?”

Jun returned to your room a few minutes later, cold cup of water in one hand and headache pills in the other for the morning. Despite the overhead light being on you were splayed out on your bed, face down and limbs going in every direction. 

He paused for a second, worried. Then he saw your back slowly move up and down. Assured he hadn’t walked in on a crime scene, Jun continued his way into your room. He set the cup and pills on your bedside table before leaning down and yanking the blankets out from under you. 

Grumbling, you rolled over on the bed and allowed Jun to gather the blankets. He took a few seconds to unravel them, and when he did he laid each one over your body. 

You hummed in approval as he tucked the blankets around your body, patting your arm and legs as he did so. “All snug?”

“Snug,” you agreed. 

Jun grabbed your koala off the ground. He hugged it to his chest, breathing in your scent that had rubbed off on the stuffie. Jun pressed a kiss to the koala’s forehead before setting it on the bed next to you. 

Your breathing was completely evened out as he smoothed your hair away from your face. He traced his fingers alongside your temple, your cheek. He ran his pointer finger over your nose, feeling the decline of it. Your lips, feeling the plush flesh give beneath his finger, watching as you subconsciously licked your lips. 

God, Jun was a fucking creep. 

Jun pressed a kiss to your forehead, finally retreating. He made his way from your bedroom, only pausing when he got to the doorway. Jun hovered his hand over the light switch for a moment, hesitating. And then: 

“I love you.”

And the light was switched off. 

You were conscious for only a handful of seconds before you were fleeing from the warmth of your bed and sprinting to the bathroom, the pressure of your bladder too great to wait a moment longer. 

Jun was laughing loudly through the bathroom door, and you opened it once you were finished washing your hands. Glaring at him, you flicked your still-damp hands at him, splashing him with droplets of water. 

“Hey!” He laughed, reeling back a little. His eyes were sparkling, and his pretty pink lips were parted to reveal his grin. “Stop bullying me!”

“You’re the bully,” you mumbled, reaching up and shielding your eyes. Natural sunlight shined through the windows of your living room, reaching into the bathroom and offending your sensitive eyes. You shot Jun a glare as he laughed some more, flicking off the bathroom light and retreating to your room once more. 

The sound of footsteps followed you. “I left some medicine by your bed for your headache.”

“Don’t have much of one,” you replied. 

“Probably because you’ve slept until three in the afternoon,” Jun returned. 

You spun around, eyes wide. Jun was leaning against your door frame, arms crossed over his chest. The sleeves of his grey t-shirt were rolled up to reveal his biceps, which were constantly gaining size as he increased his visits to the gym. His blonde bangs brushed against his eyes, and you couldn’t help but follow their movement as he flicked his head to get them out of his eyes. 

“Three?”

“In the afternoon,” Jun finished. You sat down on the edge of your bed, crossing your legs. Jun sat down next to you, though he laid back and let his arms fall above his head. “Should’ve woken me up.”

“I tried, Grumpy,” Jun said. He reached out and tapped you, and you fell back to lay beside him. “Several times.”

“Evidently not hard enough.”

“Next time I’ll play the trumpet, if you want.”

“I guess that’ll work.” You stretched your arms over your head, and when you rested them your pinkie was brushing Jun’s. You tried not to think about it, but every time your fingers brushed it was as if every nerve in your body was concentrated on that one point. “I wasn’t horrible for you last night, was I?”

Jun shook his head. You turned your head slightly to see him already staring at you; when your eyes met, he smiled. “You’re never horrible for me when you’re drunk. Now when you’re sober --”

“Oh, hush,” you said, reaching out and slapping his arm. He let out a small noise of pain, but you ignored it. You shifted onto your side, leaning down and looking at him. “I really didn’t do anything bad?”

Humming, he tilted his head. He moved one hand to rest behind his head, and the other reached up for you. Your eyes fluttered as his hand brushed over your forehead, fingers gliding through your hair. “Nothing bad, but you said some interesting things.”

Fuck. 

“Fuck,” you hissed. Your heart began to pick up speed, as if you were standing in front of a thousand people getting ready to perform a song you’d only heard once before. “Fuck.”

“Don’t worry!” Jun assured you, his fingers tracing over the shell of your ear. He pinched the lobe of your ear, causing you to wince. “You only confessed that you found me irresistible. And that you love me like Captain Ri and Yoo Seri love each other.”

You furrowed your brow, watching Jun. He stared up at you, eyes half-lidded, lips twisting into a little grin. He looked perfectly at ease, but at the same time, there wasn’t a single hint of true mischief on his face. 

“Did I really?” You asked, voice small.

Jun nodded. His fingers dipped underneath your ear and traced your jaw. “Really. It was cute.”

“And?”

His fingers rested on your chin. He shifted his hand, and then his fingers were brushing against your lips. You let Jun trace your mouth, still leaning over him, heart beginning to calm. Jun’s touch was easing your nerves, and his apparent acceptance and serenity soothed you into following suit. 

This was what often happened, you knew. Jun and you were both introverts; you didn’t like new situations. You hated crowds, hated the loudness of them and how close everyone stood together; you hated the unknown. But then when Jun was beside you, his features neutral and seemingly unbothered, it did something to you. It was as if his tranquility tricked your anxiousness, leaked into your soul and tamed the rough seas.

“And,” Jun murmured, “I love you.”

It was like when you found a blanket at the store and sunk your fingers into it, the feeling of smooth softness encompassing your digits completely. But instead of just your fingers it was your entire soul. 

It wasn’t a big revelation, you thought; not a huge unknown that needed to be answered. 

It was just another fact of life, you figured as you lowered your head to Jun’s. He shifted, elbows pressing into your mattress, raising himself to you. It was just another fact. The sun was yellow, the moon was white, the ocean is big and Wen Junhui loves you. 

With your lips pressed to his, you had one last fleeting thought before his mouth consumed yours entirely: now you didn’t have to feel bad about not correcting the Aunties at the restaurant about him being your boyfriend. 

#!!!!!!!!! #my fic #was going to publish this last night but my phone fucked it up #jun #moon junhui #wen junhui #jun x reader #svt jun x reader #moon junhui x reader #wen junhui x reader #svt #svt x reader #svt fic #seventeen #seventeen x reader #svt jun #my writing