#might be because i haven't slept that much today | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

kesujo · 5 months ago

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Other Plans - Part 1 of 3

Continuation of 'The Ifs and Buts of a Relationship'. If you don't want their innocent image to be destroyed, I would recommend steering clear ;D

I woke up to the feeling of the warm sun beating down on my eyelids. Something soft was resting on my cheek. My pillow?

Unwilling to wake up, I tried to lift my arm to block the sunlight, but found it was trapped by Jessi's arm.

I opened my eyes to see the white ceiling, blocked by strands of caramel-brown hair. This made me realize that during the night, she had crawled on top of me.

The hair blocking my vision also made me realize that the soft thing resting on my cheek wasn't my pillow, but her hair. How could her hair be so soft, even after not showering yesterday?

I lifted my head as much as I could to look at the clock. But when I noticed how the clock was different than the one I had at home, I suddenly remembered: we went to a karaoke place to celebrate my birthday yesterday, and had fallen asleep in a bed they provided for us.

However, the displayed time of 10:34 drained away all sleepiness I had. Oh no, I already wasted so much time just sleeping. Where's my laptop..? and then a sinking feeling in my stomach told me that I left it at home. Great, I thought and audibly groaned.

Since my arms and legs were trapped by Jessi's bear hug, I pondered what I could do to try and wake her up. Then, the realization hit me; we fell asleep around 1:30 yesterday, which means she only has slept for about 9 hours. I cringed at what her reaction might be when she wakes up, but started coming up with ideas anyway.

After debating with myself for a couple of minutes, I finally settling on one, I turned over to her face and pecked her cheek. "Jessi~" I cooed softly.

She didn't budge. I tried again, except this time planting a kiss right next to her eye. "Jessi~" I called to her once again. She stirred and made some kind of a noise, but otherwise, fell back asleep.

I sighed, thinking for sure that doing that would work. I really didn't want to go to my final resort; but I was willing and prepared to deal with anything, as long as I could get home quickly.

I lifted my head a little and planted a kiss right behind her ear. "Mph," Jessi groaned, turning us over so that I was on top of her now. I tried to escape, but her grip remained as hard as steel. I can't believe I'm actually doing this again, I thought as I lowered my head a little and planted another kiss right behind her ear, following it up by nibbling on her earlobe lightly "Mm," her groan turned into a soft moan.

I had learned of her magic spot while we were still a couple in high school. Don't ask me how I learned it, I just did.

"You haven't done that in forever," I heard Jessi's husky morning voice tell me.

I was a bit surprised Jessi didn't just hit me and fall back asleep again, like she usually did. Then again, I had never used this technique to wake her up before. I rolled off her, but this only caused us to switch our positions again. "Well, I really need to get back home so--"

She pecked me, cutting my words short. Why was she suddenly kissing me so much? Yesterday too, at the restaurant ...

"I had already planned something for today, but it's not until around 12," she informed me.

I whined. "I can't just ditch my research now, I--" but was cut off as she captured my lips again, making it last longer than last time.

When she pulled back, I looked at her with a confused expression. "Why are you kissing me so much recently?"

She pouted, which made my heart melt, despite her messy hair and her tired eyes. "Why can't I?"

"Well, because--" I tried to explain, but couldn't actually find a reason. "Because ... most best friends don't kiss each other?"

She gave me a gentle smile. "Well, we aren't 'most people', are we?"

I sighed, anticipating this response. "Yeah, I guess," I admitted in defeat.

"Plus, I'm practicing for something," she continued. I cocked my eyebrows.

"For what? Did you audition for a play recently that I wasn't aware of?"

She shook her head. "I signed us up for a recording of a porno," she told me calmly.

I almost gagged on the air I was breathing in. "Wh-What?" I asked, brain spinning with shock. Did Jessi seriously just say "porno"? And she signed us up for it? And how could she be so calm about it?

"So since there obviously will be a lot of kissing involved, I want us to get used to each other again," she continued, still calm. Before I could barrage her with questions, she opened her mouth again. "Oh yeah, and we're filming it with someone experienced, so there's no need to worry about her."

My brain was still spinning. Did she honestly expect me to have sex with her and her friend in front of a camera, where the producers would most likely post the video on some website and ruin my reputation? I know it seems selfish, especially if Jessi really wanted to do this and was just good at hiding her love for me or something, but the information I just received clouded my mind.

I half expected her to say "gotcha!" or something, but after a moment of silence, I realized she wasn't going to. I opened my mouth to speak, brain throwing around a million questions to ask her. "So you're going to get used to kissing me, but not actually having sex with me?"

I mentally facepalmed. Why did I have to ask that? Of all the things--

"Oh, that's a good point," she said, releasing her grip on me to place a finger on her lips in a thinking fashion. Although most people did this for the purpose of being cute, Jessi actually naturally did this, which made it all the cuter. "We should practice, shouldn't we?"

As she was reaching for the hem of her shirt, I scooted back. "No no no, I didn't mean--" but I was cut off as she reached a hand for my pants. Somehow, she managed to strip off her shirt and pants in the time I had said six words. "Wait," I said, grabbing her wrist. "We aren't honestly going to do this, are we?"

She looked at me. "Well, you don't want to be underprepared when we arrive, do you?"

"I mean, we aren't honestly going to be going to this recording of a porno, right?"

She looked at me in a sort of disbelieving fashion. "Why would I lie? I never lie," she pouted.

It was true; she never did lie. To me, at any rate.

"But--" I stammered, confused beyond belief. Why would Jessi do this? Did she honestly fall in love with me? She could have just told me instead of signing us up for something like this.

She took advantage of my confusion and grabbed a hold of the rim of my pajama pants and pulled down, leaving me only in my boxers, and her in her underwear. "Hey--" but once again was cut off when she climbed on top of me. It's not like I haven't seen Jessi in only her underwear, or that we have never been together without much clothing; heck, we sometimes took baths and showers together. But something in her eyes made me shudder: a glimmering hint of mischievousness.

"Jessi," I whined, causing her to smile. Just like her aegyo always made me smile, mine always made her smile. But otherwise, I hated using it with other people. It just made me feel awkward.

"Yes?"

"Why did you sign us up for a recording of a porno again?" I finally managed to ask the question bugging me.

She sat on the space right below my groin. "Well, I found this website a week ago. On this website, you could share stories and read other people's stories," she explained. So this is why, in the past week, I sometimes found her focusing so hard on her computer screen sometimes. "And after reading some stories, I came across this story that contained a chapter of the characters having sex with each other." My face paled. I could see where this was going, but that's not why my face paled. The thought that came into my mind was so disturbing, I began praying to God that the one night where Jessi actually slept by herself wasn't because what I think it was. "So after reading that, I got really turned on and started searching for other smuts." Noticing my confused expression, she went on to explain. "Smuts are like stories or one-shots, which are basically short stories that last no more than one or two chapters, that contain sex." A mixture of an understanding and an even more disturbed expression came across my face.

Seeing my expression, Jessi giggled. "Your face is so cute right now," she cooed, completely breaking out of her serious explaining tone to rub her cheek on mine. I had flinched when she was lowering her face, thinking that she was going to kiss me again. Not that I didn't like her kisses, its just that right now, my innocent and pure image of Jessi was being destroyed right before my eyes. Or ears, I guess.

"Ok, so anyway," she went on, changing her tone in an instant. "So you know the one night a few days ago where I decided that I would sleep alone?" I nodded with eyes opened wide. Please, don't tell me she -- "I had done all my planning that night, including the sushi restaurant yesterday for dinner, karaoke yesterday night, and now the recording today. I figured you have been a virgin for too long, so I thought 'why not?' and signed us up," she said. I sighed a breath of relief. It wasn't what I thought it was, thank god.

She caught this and looked at me curiously. "What, did you think I was doing something else?"

I shook my head frantically, but still, she grinned. My stomach sank. "Did you think I was masturbating?"

I covered my face with my hands. I was unwilling to show my embarrassed face to her.

"Well, actually," she continued, causing my stomach to sink even further. Oh no ... she really did masturbate? "I did a little that night," she said, as if suddenly recalling. Seeing my pale face, she continued. "It was only so today wouldn't be my first time, because from the stories I read, the first time always hurt, and I didn't want to worry you with that."

Despite my completely destroyed image of her, I couldn't help but smile a bit. Even in a situation like that, she didn't stop thinking about others.

The moment was broken when she reached behind her back and undid her bra strap. "So are you ready?"

"No," I said, suddenly panicking as she threw her bra somewhere in the room and moved to removed her panties. Were we really going to have sex now? My best friend, whom I have known for about 20 years, and I were honestly going to do this right now?

"Why are you panicking so much?" she asked, looking down at me curiously after throwing her panties to join her bra.

"Well," I said, voice shaking. "I'm sorta about to get raped by my best friend--"

"Your hot best friend," she interrupted me, grinning. I felt something grab my arms, but I ignored it; I had to get an answer from her.

"Sure, hot best friend, someone I've known for the majority of my life. I mean, we aren't even a couple, and suddenly, we're about to have sex today. Who wouldn't be panicking?"

She rested her lower body on mine, supporting her upper body and her head with the arms, which were right next to my bare shoulders. "Me?"

The simple question suddenly created a question. "If you aren't in love with me, then how could she be so casual about this, as if this were normal?" I asked, accidentally speaking my mind.

Before I could hit myself for being so reckless, she answered. "Well, honestly, the smuts I have been reading made me realize how hot you actually are, and what it would be like to--"

"Ok, thanks," I cut her off, not wanting her to finish that sentence.

She grinned at me. "Aw, are you still shy about having sex with me?" she cooed, which was extremely strange because her cute voice saying the word "sex" completely threw off everything. "Well, its ok," she continued. "I'll make sure I get you horny enough," she said, once again smirking her mischievous smirk.

My eyes grew wide. Oh god, what was she going to do?

The whole conversation distracted me as I suddenly felt something cold attach itself to both my wrists. I looked up and was shocked to find that she had handcuffed my hands to the bedposts of the bed we were on.

She lowered herself onto me, pressing her breasts into my bare chest. I groaned, trying to wriggle out from under her, but to no avail. "And also," she breathed into my ear. "How do you know that I'm not in love with you?"

She didn't give me a chance to respond as she placed her mouth on my jaw, right under my left ear. The kiss sent electricity flying from that spot, causing my breath to quicken; it was my most sensitive spot, one that Jessi had discovered recently and always used to abuse me.

She nibbled the skin lightly, causing the electricity to intensify. "Jessi," I groaned, trying to bring my hands down to pull her off me. This did nothing except make a shackling sound, telling me that escaping from it was futile. I tried anyway, despite the small amount of pain I was beginning to feel from it.

"Jinnie, don't do that," she said in a worried tone, suddenly stopping and reaching her arms out to touch my wrists. However, this caused her body to stretch, causing her breasts to push more into me. I bit back another groan.

Her touch pacified my attempts of escape. When the shackling sound stopped, she looked back at me. "And by the way, this is your fault," she told me, moving her mouth right above mine.

"Wh--"

"You nibbling my ear this morning really turned me on," she whispered. Frick, really? "And you're the one who suggested this," she whispered, attaching her mouth to my jaw again.

"Jessi," I groaned. "Stop..." I said softly, straining to escape my handcuffs again, but only filling the room with the sound of shackles shaking.

She ignored me and let her hands explore my body, running her hand across my pecs and my chiseled abs. The sexy aura she was giving off, from both her actions and the general atmosphere caused me to shiver; needless to say, her plan was working out quite well.

"Hmm," she hummed, moving her mouth off my jaw and onto my lips again. As she ran her hands down my sides sensually, her tongue licked at my lips, begging for entrance, which I denied. I was still trying to get over the fact that Jessi was doing this in the first place. And even more that I didn't mind, and that I might even like it.

Realizing I wasn't going to give her entrance, she started to attack my lips, trying to force her tongue inside. Concentrating all my attention on keeping her out, I didn't even realize she was pulling off my boxers until her bare skin made contact with mine.

"Mph!" I said in surprise, diverting my attention a bit, which was all Jessi needed to plunge her tongue into my mouth. Since when did she learn to be such a good multitasker? I wondered as she battled me for access to my mouth while grinding my hips with hers, creating extremely pleasurable friction. I closed my eyes, overwhelmed by this feeling.

"Mmm," we both moaned into each other's mouths. My attempt to escape the handcuffs became more frantic. Despite doing two things at once, Jessi managed to win the fight and was now deepening the kiss, only to have to separate for air after a few seconds.

I looked up at her wearily as she propped herself with her arms, this time resting on my chest. She smiled down at me. "Turned on yet?"

I raised my eyebrows. Was she honestly asking me that? Before I could answer, she dove down once again, this time aiming for my neck. "Hey--" but I was cut off as Jessi nipped at the skin on my neck. "What--" I started again, but once again was cut off as she grabbed more of my skin with her lips and brushed her teeth on it. Then, she bit down.

"Mm!" I mumbled in surprise, pain pinching my skin. "What--"

"I learned that people usually do that in the smuts I read," she informed me after coming back up.

I rolled my eyes. "Because everything you read online is true, right?" She pouted. I grinned at her. "I'm just teasing. But won't it leave a mark?" Her only answer was a nod, followed by a teasing smile. I frowned, which only caused her smile to trickle down to her mouth, showing off her perfectly straight, blindingly white teeth.

She bent down slightly and started to grind me again, placing kisses all across my chest. I squirmed, having already stopped trying to escape the handcuffs as I realized it was pointless. "Jess, what are you doing?" I asked while struggling under her.

"Shh," she told me, bringing her hand to my chest and tracing my abs. I shivered at her touch. Something in my lower region started to hurt a little, but I was distracted as she brought her mouth down to it and replace her finger with her tongue, using it to trace my abs instead. My breathing started to quicken again. Suddenly, Jessi stopped and laughed lightly. "Your little friend is trying to greet my thigh," she told me, giggling.

"What--?" then I realized what she meant by 'little friend' as I realized what the pain in my lower region was. I tried to hide my blush, but my hands were cuffed to the bedposts.

She noticed this and lit up right away. "Awww, your blushing!" she cooed, completely breaking out of the sexy character.

"Shut up," I told her softly, trying to hide my face.

"It's so cute!" she told me, smiling brightly and kissed my cheeks.

"Mmm," I groaned, trying to avoid her lips, but to no avail.

After she was finally done, she got back up to look at me. "Ok, so I was thinking we could cover two things at once," she told me, turning her body around so her legs her facing me. "So you know what to do, right?" she asked, scooting down and parting her legs as she got closer to my face.

"Um...?" I tried to look at her but was blocked by the sight of a pink muscle that seemed to part away from a slit, the muscle glistening from something. It was producing so much heat that I could feel it, even though I was about six inches away from it.

She stopped moving. "Wait, you don't?" she asked like it was the strangest thing in the world.

"Should I?" I asked back.

"69?" she tried to hint to me. The number rang a bell: my friends in high school and college would always use the number whenever possible. So one time, confused, I asked them what it meant. Then, I remembered: it was a sex position which involved both partners facing opposite directions, stimulating each other simultaneously. So that meant that I had to-- "I guess I'll tell you what to do," Jessi said, taking my silence as confusion, scooting down so the pink muscle was barely an inch away from my lips. "Ok, so first, kiss it," she told me.

Tentatively, I closed the gap and placed my lips on the glistening pink muscle in front of me. "Ng!" she moaned, bucking her hips into my face, causing the glistening thing to cover my face, which I discovered was sticky and somewhat sweet. Surprised by this action, I tried to back away, but her legs had already trapped my head.

"Mph!" I exclaimed in surprise as she pushed my face into her with her legs, causing my face to meet the sticky liquid once again, my nose brushing a stub.

"Ng!" she moaned again, pushing my face into the pink muscle again.

"Jessi!" I yelled, or tried to as my voice was slightly muffled, as my lips tasted the sweet liquid again. However, this seemed to catch her attention.

"O-Oh, sorry," she panted, releasing her grip on my head. All the moaning had intensified the pain, which I hoped to God Jessi didn't notice. "O-Ok, and I also have to practice giving you blowjobs," she told me.

Wait--! I thought as I felt something warm and wet wrap around my dick. "Unf," I groaned as she began taking more and more of my shaft into her mouth.

"Heh, ru habe tu du shumhing tu," she said, mouth still full. Realizing what she just said was incomprehensible, she released her grip on my dick with an audible pop! before speaking again. "You have to do something too," she told me, using her legs to push my head towards her vagina.

I reluctantly met the muscle with my lips, causing her to shiver as she took my member into her mouth again. The pleasure from the suction Jessi was providing was extremely distracting though, which left me doing nothing except making a sort of making out motion with it, licking the slit and the semi-sweet liquid coating it. However, she seemed to be enjoying it as her moans constantly vibrated down my shaft, in turn causing me to moan.

She began to take more of my shaft, moving down a little, and then moving back up, all they while licking it continuously. I held back a moan, releasing the sudden burst of pleasure by randomly inserting my tongue into her slit.

She didn't hold back as she let out a throaty moan, using her legs to push my tongue in more, desperate for more contact. I complied and pressed my mouth as far as I could against her labia and stuck my tongue as far as I could. "Nng!" she moaned, thrusting into my tongue. I tried to follow her thrust, but my tongue felt trapped in between some kind of walls inside. So instead of thrusting, I started to move it side to side, exploring anything I could. "Nnn..." she moaned once again before taking the whole of my shaft into her mouth. I was glad I had shaved my pubic hair, as she also took my balls into her mouth. I heard her gag a bit, but I was too distracted to what I was doing pay much attention to that, other than the fact that the immense amount of pleasure I was receiving from it occasionally caused me to send vibrations down into Jessi, causing her to squirm a bit more.

Before long, I started to feel pleasurable pressure build up near my stomach area that continued to build up as Jessi continued her menstruations. Feeling a rush of something, I increased my pace, desperate for the pressure to build up. We had both begun to sweat, the salty-ness of the sweat mixing in with the sweetness of Jessi's liquid. As I continued though, the muscles surrounding my tongue tightened even more, but this proved no problem to the rush of adrenaline/hormones I was experiencing right now.

The pressure started to become overwhelming, so overwhelming that I started to fight against the handcuffs again in a desire to push Jessi's head deeper onto my dick. Instead, I bucked up into her face, forcing her to gag a little. "Jessi..." I moaned again, once again sending vibrations inside Jessi. She squirmed even more, once again thrusting into my face, which was already sticky with the liquid pouring out of her slit.

"Nnngg, Jiinnnniiieee" she let out a drawn out moan, sending vibrations down my shaft. In response to the pleasure, I thrusted upwards into her mouth, desperate for more. The pace of her moving on my shaft also quickened, tongue frantically licking, flicking, and wrapping itself around my dick.

I continued to thrust, the pressure clouding all judgment, including the concern that I might be hurting her. "Hnn," I moaned again, not able to speak much as my brain had basically shut down at this point. "Hnn..." the pressure was reaching a climax. "HNnn ..." I felt the pressure become overwhelming. "HN ... "HN!" I thrusted one final time before releasing all the pressure that had built up in my stomach.

The release caused me to suddenly feel tired, which slowed down my thrusting into Jessi, but she took care of that as I could feel her coming to the same climax from her growingly louder and constant moans and quicker and harder thrusts. "Jinnie..." she moaned, mouth already off my dick. "Jin--Jin--JINNIE!" she screamed her high-pitched dolphin scream as a huge rush of the sticky liquid. Since my mouth was already situated at only exit, the liquid squirted into my mouth, some dribbling off my lips as I attempted to swallow it.

As I licked the last drops off my face, she turned herself around to face me again before resting her head on my chest. "Are we ready yet?" I asked her, exhausted.

"No, one more thing," she told me. "I just want to rest for now."

I remained passive at this news; I had initially thought that having sex with her would lead to awkwardness between us, but that clearly didn't happen.

After a minute or so, she reached for the cabinet next to the bed and reached for the top drawer, pulling out a key. She once again stretched against my body to reach the handcuffs, drawing a soft moan out of me.

Unfortunately, she heard this and stopped. "I should make sure you won't just run away huh," she said, almost to herself as she retreated her hand. Frick. Stupid mouth, I cursed my mouth as she placed the key on top of the cabinet.

"And how are you going to--Unf!" I was cut off as she had wrapped her silky legs around mine and started to hump me. "Jess," I moaned, starting to feel my breath quicken yet again. She placed her lips on my jawline again and started to nip at every inch of skin she could find. "Mmm," I hummed with pleasure, allowing my head to fully rest on the pillow as I closed my eyes. Before long, my little friend began to poke Jessi again.

She stopped when she felt it and reached for the key, but not before giving a sly grin to me. I groaned and facepalmed with the pillow. How could she still be so playful?

"Ok, aand," she said, straining against my body once again as she fumbled with the key and the handcuff. I bit my lips, holding back a moan. "Darn it," I heard her mumble as I heard the keys being dropped. She stretched even more to reach it, pressing her breasts more into my bare chest. I bit down harder, drawing a little bit of blood from my lips. "Ok, I got it," she mumbled to herself, raising herself again. But as soon as she grabbed the bedpost, her hand slipped, causing her to fall back down on the bed.

"Ng..." I moaned, unable to hold it back. "Jess, you're doing this on purpose," I accused her.

"No, why would I do that on purpose?" she asked innocently, but her shaking body said something else. Usually, when Jessi was suppressing his laugh, it usually was transferred into her body.

"Yah, you did that on purpose!" I told her, but was silenced when she humped me again, since her legs where still interlocked with mine.

"I won't unlock the handcuffs if you keep on complaining," she told me. I had already heard the key go in, but she had yet to turn it.

"What?" I whined, pulling against the handcuffs again, but was humped yet again by Jessi.

"I said shh," she told me, turning the key. As soon as she let my hands free, she caught them with her hands and pinned me to the bed. Then, she turned to look at me. "Now, are you going to do what I tell you to?" she asked me. I looked at her wearily, but after a few seconds of silence, I yelped as she humped me again.

"Ok ok," I said, submitting. I was the guy; why did she have so much power over me? I easily answered myself: I was extremely sensitive to this type of stimulation, which Jessi always abused to get what she wanted.

She smiled, releasing her grip on my hands and flipping us around, so I was on top now. "Ok, so I'm going to explain everything first, and then you do it, ok?" I nodded. "Ok, so first you place your mouth on my breast, doesn't matter which one, and start licking slash nipping slash whatever. Meanwhile, you use your finger to insert it into my pussy," she explained, still using a calm voice, despite the harsh language. Which I found amazing, to be honest.

I started to move down, but was stopped when Jessi touched my head lightly. "Oh yeah, and you don't want to be too quick about putting your finger into my pussy," she explained. "It makes it more exciting for me or something, I think," she told me.

Keeping the strange bit of info in mind, I moved down until I was level with her chest. I moved my right hand down and lowered my head, taking her right breast into my mouth. "Hn" she moaned when my lips touched her skin. I started to lick the smooth skin, running over a stub of some kind.

Apparently, this was a sensitive spot, as when I did, she moaned loudly and bucked her chest up. Unprepared for this, more of her breast entered my mouth, causing the nub, probably her nipple, to brush my tongue again. "Nn," she moaned, pushing my head down onto her breast, desperate for more. I had no choice but to accept it, breathing only from a small opening from my nose.

Meanwhile, my hands were occupied on Jessi's legs. I had remembered what she had said, and placed my hand on the inside of her thighs, a few inches away from her pussy. I had forgotten about it until she had pushed my head into her breast; realizing just putting it there wasn't achieving anything, I moved it a bit closer. I heard her gasp softly. I grinned in satisfaction and began to rub the spot where my hand stopped.

"Ung, Jinnie," she moaned, trying to maneuver herself down onto my fingers. I had already anticipated this and used my left hand and right leg to trap her hips, making sure she wouldn't be able to move. I moved my finger a little closer, continuing to rub her skin. "Hng," she moaned again, trying once again to buck into my fingers, but failing.

I flicked her nipple with my tongue a few times, earning a few more moans and another push downwards. Afterwards, I found a suitable pattern: lick, lick, swirl, lick, swirl, swirl, suck, swirl. I heard her breathing starting to quicken yet again.

I slowly inched my hand upward, starting to trace small circles inside her thigh along the way. As I got further up, I started to encounter more and more of the sticky liquid.

I stopped right before I reached her pussy lips. When I got here, I drew a line right outside the edge of the pink muscle. "Ng! Jinnie!" she moaned, bucking downwards again, but failing again. "Fuck..." she moaned, trying to close her legs, but was blocked by my own legs. "W-Why did I t-tell you to do this..." she said in short, ragged breaths. I responded by giving her nipple a light bite. "Un!" she screamed in pleasure, both bucking up and pushing my head down.

Deciding I had teased her enough, I put two of my fingers on her pussy lips, tracing the outline of the sopping wet muscle. She moaned, once again bucking, but once again being held in place. I switched breasts, placing my mouth on her left one.

While I was tracing the slit, I had brushed a nub, causing her to violently buck into my fingers, this time achieving what she had been trying to achieve for the last few minutes. "Hng," she moaned as I pushed my fingers into her, leaving only my knuckles outside of her.

Figuring I might as well continue, I started to push my fingers in and pull them back out. As I continued to pump, I felt the tight walls accommodate for the space my two fingers took. My thumb found itself resting on the nub, while my ring finger, being pressed into the outside of her pussy, almost accidently slipped in. The two events simultaneously happening caused her to let out a loud moan, bucking fiercely into my fingers, allowing my ring finger to easily go in, despite how tight she was.

While lightly biting her nipple yet again, I started to draw circles around the nub. "JINNIE!" she screamed, shaking as a torrent of sticky fluid rushing past my fingers and onto my hand, staining the bed a little.

When she finally calmed down, I released her breast and traveled down, licking up the fluid, and then pulling my fingers out, eliciting a groan from Jessi, licking the cum off my digits. When I was done, I crawled up and plopped myself next to her. "Are you sure you haven't done this before?" she asked in between breaths.

I looked at her. "Yeah, why?"

She turned her head to me, but started giggling when she saw me. I cocked my head to the side, curious as to what she was laughing to. "You have something on your lips," she explained, leaning forward and capturing them, licking my lips a little before pulling away. "There we go," she said happily.

I looked at the clock: 11:01. We had been doing this for about half an hour? "How long does it take to get there?"

"About 15 minutes from here by car," she said. Before I could tell her we didn't have a car, she said, "And about an hour minutes walking."

"Well if we want to be in time, we probably should go now."

She looked at the clock, then got up quickly. "Yeah, we should," she said hurriedly, putting on her clothes, including the dress she wore here.

I put on my clothes and waited by the door while she checked herself in the mirror, making sure her bed hair wasn't too crazy. "Ok, let's go," she said, grabbing my hand and leading me out the door. I had noticed she was carrying her heels in her other hand. Before I could ask, Jessi noticed this and explained, "Oh, this is so we can walk without the risk of me falling or something. I mean, you know how bad I am with walking in heels," she said.

I smiled and nodded; yesterday, just on the ten minute walk here, she almost fell about eleven times. I remember her panicking because there was a sudden lack of support, but luckily, each time, she was able to recover by holding onto me.

So after about an hour of walking and running, and me giving Jessi a piggyback while she relieved her sore feet, we had arrived at a rather ordinary looking building. It looked like just any other building: tall, lined with windows following a specific pattern all the way up to at least 20 floors, made of brown brick, and had a single door. The door lead to a flight of stairs, hallways on the right and left leading to more rooms. "Third floor, 3004" she told me. We sprinted up the stairs, Jessi not on my back anymore, turned left when we arrived at the floor, and arrived at the door labeled, with a golden plate above it, "3004".

Jessi stepped forward and knocked on the door.

Part 2 here.

#jessica jung #snsd #kpop #soshi #kpop smut #snsd smut #fluff #smut

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fatgirlonadate-blog · 17 days ago

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21 Days - Day 15

Something inside of Xavier has shifted. You can’t quite define it or give it a name, but you can sense it, see it in every glance and feel it in every touch. He is not the same man he was yesterday.

What a difference a day can make.

The change isn't anything obvious—most things haven't changed at all. He is as shy and sweet and earnest as he has always been. He still blushes when you touch him, he still pouts when you tease him, and he is still playful and warm.

But the shadow behind his eyes, the hint of sadness in his smile, is disappearing. There is a growing certainty in him that was not there before, as if he has made a choice -some choice- and it has freed him in a way that seems to extend beyond just his secrets.

It's absurd, but you can't shake the thought that he chose you yesterday—that, somehow, you were always a choice he had to make. You don’t even know what the alternative might have been, but now, when he looks at you, the affection in his eyes feels complete, as if it’s here to stay.

Maybe his fevered promise not to leave again was truly meant for you after all. But that only raises more questions—had he been planning to leave you? And when did he leave the first time?

If you were the choice, then what was the other option?

He has remained tight lipped about this particular detail - unwilling to share any part of it. Other small secrets about his past have trickled out in fragments over the past 24 hours—never fully explained and always a little vague, but still unmistakably genuine. He’s trying to open up, and you’re trying your best not to push him. The rest will come later, you tell yourself.

In the meantime, you have a much more immediate issue to deal with.

There is no other way to put it - Xavier has become adorably, maddeningly clingy. He hasn’t let you stray more than an arm’s length since yesterday, and if he weren't so infuriatingly old fashioned, you're pretty sure he'd have slept with his cock buried deep inside you last night. Instead, he’d settled for holding you close, your back pressed firmly to his chest, with his hand resting possessively between your thighs.

It’s not exactly a bad thing; in fact, you love him even more like this. Every time he teleports to your side instead of walking, you can’t help but laugh, as if the seconds saved are simply too precious for him to waste. You marvel at the confidence in his touch now, the way he explored your body this morning like he owns it. And you fall even deeper for him every time he willingly gives you some crumb of information about who he really is.

You're savoring every moment with him and wish you could pause time and stay like this, just the two of you, forever. But you have a plan today - one that he cannot be a part of because it would spoil the surprise.

"Xavier," You whisper, trying to pull away from his insistent kisses, "I really do have to go soon. I have to check in with Jenna. In person this time. You know how she feels about being kept waiting."

Xavier acts as if he didn’t hear you, keeping you pinned firmly against the front door. His lips find a sensitive spot on your neck, biting gently before soothing it with a warm flick of his tongue. By now, he’s already delayed you at least ten minutes with those distracting, lingering kisses—reminders of just how skilled he is with his mouth.

"Xavier," you say more firmly.

He huffs as he pulls back just far enough for his blue eyes to lock onto yours, and the pout in them is nearly enough to break you.

"Why are you calling me that?" He asks, his forehead dropping to yours as he holds you to him, his nose rubbing against yours.

"What?"

"You usually call me Xav now. Or bunny."

A soft laugh escapes your lips at his confused, slightly pouty tone. "Xavier… Xav, I really need to—"

"But...," He protests, ducking his head to nuzzle his face in the crook of your neck again. "Let's go together. We're partners. I go where you go."

"It's supposed to be 24-hour surveillance, Xav. You know we both can't go. We already agreed on this yesterday."

"Yesterday was yesterday. Can't we make a new agreement today?"

The whine in his voice is killing you, but you really do want to surprise him. This birthday needs to be special; he deserves to feel special.

"Not this time, Xav."

Xavier's mouth trails down to your neck, each kiss sending a spark through you as his hands tighten around your waist, pulling you firmly against him. You have to bite your bottom lip to keep from moaning as you feel the insistent press of his hardness against you, even through the layers of clothing.

"Are you sure you don’t want to reconsider?" he murmurs, his voice a low, promising whisper.

His mouth is pure temptation against your skin, making it hard to remember why you need to leave. But there will be time for this later—hopefully endless time, forever, if you have anything to say about it.

"Bunny, please." You breathe out, threading your fingers through his hair to gently tug his greedy lips away from your skin. "I have to get going. I'm going to be late."

Xavier pulls back and fixes you with the saddest puppy dog eyes that have ever existed. "I can't believe you'd actually...leave me alone in this house."

"I'll make it up to you when I get home, I promise. And I won't be gone long."

Xavier sighs and nods as his arms tighten around your waist. He lets out a defeated groan, and mumbles, "How long?"

"It's just a few hours. I'll be back before you know it." You smile gently at the boyish sulk that has spread across his face as he continues to mope and press small kisses along your jaw.

Finally he gives in and lets out a heavy sigh that fans out along your skin. “Alright,” he grumbles, releasing his hold on your waist and taking a step back.

The small bit of distance clears your head just enough, and you shake it slightly, trying to dispel the lingering desire coursing through you. God, this man has you so wrapped around his finger that you can barely think straight.

You flash him a quick smile and turn to open the door, but pause, throwing him a puzzled look as he moves to follow you.

"Xav, you know you can’t come with me, right?" you say, a mix of amusement and exasperation in your voice.

He nods, pulling the door open and gesturing for you to go ahead, slipping an arm around your waist as he guides you through. "I know," he says with a grin. "I’m just escorting you to the station. I’m allowed to do that, aren’t I?"

It’s hard to believe that the man who used to vanish for days, even though he was just next door, now can’t imagine being apart from you for more than a few hours. It’s a clinginess you’re not used to—not from him, not from anyone—but oddly, it doesn’t bother you. There’s something deeply comforting about being wanted this much, and you can’t help but hope it never changes.

"I’ll miss you," you say, rising on your tiptoes to press a kiss to Xavier’s cheek as your train pulls into the station. "And try not to blow up the house while I’m gone, alright?"

He looks like he wants to argue, his hand tightening around yours, but then his eyes soften, and he gives you a gentle smile, slipping into his practiced, fake-husband role. “Come back soon, Mrs. Shen. Stay safe.”

He’s an exceptionally good fake husband. So convincing, in fact, that the word itself—fake—irritates you as it echoes in your mind on the train ride into the city. Your marriage to him is fake, yet with each passing day, it feels more real. The thought of it ending… It's almost unthinkable.

As soon as you step off the train and into the city, your plan for the day begins to unravel. The check-in with Jenna is mercifully brief, but her urgency to wrap up this mission leaves you tense and uneasy as you navigate sidewalks that are already too slick for comfort.

Snow in October is a rarity in Linkon, but here it is—thick, heavy flakes falling from the sky, dusting the sidewalks in a thin layer of white. It’s beautiful, but bitterly cold, and you're not dressed nearly warm enough for it.

You shiver as you wander from shop to shop, collecting things for Xavier’s birthday. A surprise party had crossed your mind, but inviting a bunch of fellow hunters to your covert mission apartment didn’t exactly scream discreet. So instead, you’ve opted for something simpler—something you hope he’ll love, even if it has the potential to set the place on fire.

But if it makes him happy? It just might be worth the risk.

The cake ingredients were easy enough to acquire, but the decorations were trickier, the items scattered throughout the city, rather than all together in one single shop. By the time you finish collecting everything for the perfect birthday cake, you're freezing and damp with snow.

The warmth of the nearby cafe and the promise of something sweet was impossible to resist, and you sigh with relief as you dump your shopping bags onto a table and strip off your cold, damp jacket. A steaming cup of hot chocolate and three macarons later, your phone buzzes in your purse. You dig through the clutter of your wallet and keys to find your phone. It vibrates in your hand again as you pick it up and the screen glows with a notification:

(4) Voice Messages from Xavier

Xavier: Is it snowing there?

Xavier: We ran out of vinegar. Can you get some on your way home?

Xavier: Are you on your way back yet?

Xavier: Are you talking to someone outside right now?

You try not to smile at your phone like an idiot, but you fail as warmth floods through you at the sound of his voice. It’s amazing how a handful of words can make you feel so secure. There's something foreign but comforting about having someone care for you like this - someone waiting for you to get home. It's been a long time since you've had such a simple luxury, and you hadn't realized how much you've missed it.

You: I have to stop and pick up a few more things. But I'll be home soon.

Xavier: What do you want for dinner?

You're contemplating the least disastrous option as footsteps approach your table, and you glance up just in time to see a familiar face.

"Fancy meeting you here, miss bodyguard. There are easier ways to find me, you know. You don't have to stalk me." Rafayel smirks.

He slides into the chair across from you, meeting your wide-eyed gaze as he casually plucks a green macaron from your plate and takes a bite.

Has he always looked like that? you wonder as he flashes you a playful, disarming smile.

Seeing Rafayel is like looking at a masterpiece—he’s almost too perfect, so striking it’s hard to believe he’s real. You thought you’d grown used to his looks ages ago, that you had built up a certain immunity to it. But a few weeks apart have undone that, leaving you vulnerable to his effortless charm again.

Xavier is undeniably handsome, but Rafayel—even dressed simply in a sweater and dark pants—is goddamned majestic.

"Raf! Hey! Uh, what...what are you doing here?" You manage, surprised.

He's wearing his signature look of lazy amusement. His inky purple hair is slightly damp from snow, and he runs a hand through it as he takes another bite of your dessert.

"What do you mean? I come here all of the time. Shouldn't I be asking you that question? You're supposed to be locked away somewhere trying to catch a bad guy, yeah?"

"Oh, shut up. I haven't been locked away; the mission is just taking a while. I came into town today for a mission update." You say, and wave toward your bags, "and some shopping."

His eyes flick toward your bags, narrowing on the pastel letters spelling 'Happy Birthday' across the card that's peeking out.

"Mission update, hm? Interesting," he drawls as he pops the remaining bit of macaron in his mouth. "I'm surprised you escaped your tower, your highness. You haven't really bothered to respond to my texts for the past week. I was starting to think you'd been captured or that you got possessed by Wanderers or something."

"Uh," you stammer, quickly sliding another bag over the one he's eyeing, shifting awkwardly in your chair. "Sorry about that. I’ve just been... really busy."

Though his tone is playful, there's a hint of hurt beneath it that tugs at your heart, just as it always does. He’d deny it until he was blue in the face, but you know he can’t stand feeling ignored—and it sucks to know you're the reason for it this time.

He shrugs and leans back, draping his arms across the back of his chair as he casually crosses an ankle over his knee. "Yeah, yeah, I know. Secret missions and saving the world and whatever. Same as always."

The tired sound of resignation in his voice makes your smile falter, and you can only guess at what's really going on behind those galaxy eyes of his.

After countless late-night phone calls, you used to wonder if there might be something real between you and Rafayel. He was a flirt—that much had been clear from the start—and you’d brushed off his advances, wary of reading too much into them. But sometimes, when it was just the two of you, when the flirting grew a little more heated or the light touches became bolder and hungrier, you were almost certain there was something more. That he felt it, too.

But he never took it further, and the moment would fade as if it had never happened at all.

It doesn’t matter now, you remind yourself, tearing your gaze away to stare out the window. The sky has darkened, snow falling steadily against the glass, and your train will be leaving soon. Whatever might have been between you is just a memory now—one you are scared to dwell on any longer.

"We'll catch up when my mission is over, okay?" You swear, rushing the words as you stand up and shove your jacket on, reaching for the bags on the floor. "I'll come over, you can tell me all about your newest exhibit, and we'll make fun of Thomas together. I pinky promise."

"What?" His eyes widen, and he quickly stands, reaching out to still your hand as you go for another bag. "You’re leaving already? You just got here."

"Raf—" You sigh, guilt gnawing at you for more than one reason. Xavier is waiting. "I really do have to go. My train leaves soon."

His grip tightens around your wrist, his warm hand almost scorching hot as he stares at you with a rare flash of desperation in his eyes. It makes him look vulnerable for just a fraction of a moment, and something inside you tightens, torn between the urge to ease the ache you've caused in him and the need to put distance between yourself and old feelings you’d rather not think about.

"Let me walk you to your stop then," he says, his tone light and easy, but he's still holding your hand prisoner. His suggestion isn’t really a suggestion—it’s more of a demand.

"Fine," You say, rolling your eyes dramatically even as a smile forces its way onto your face. "But make yourself useful. Help me carry this stuff."

Rafayel grins and lets go of your wrist, bending to scoop up most of the bags. "Jeez, these are pretty heavy. I better get some kind of awesome reward for all of this labor."

A chill wind and swirling snowflakes greet you as you step out of the café, making you mutter a curse under your breath. If you’d known it was going to snow, you’d have worn a real coat.

"I hate snow," you grumble as you fall into step beside him.

"What do you mean?" he grins, bumping your hip with his. "Snow is like magic. Look around!"

He gestures to the snow-dusted trees and buildings blanketed in white. "Each flake is unique, perfect in its own way, turning everything ordinary into something miraculous, if only for a moment. And...it also looks really pretty in your hair."

His enthusiasm is infectious, and his words make you feel warm despite the chill wind cutting through the thin material of your jacket. Maybe you don’t actually hate snow after all.

The walk to the station goes by in a blur as you catch up on the last two weeks: gossiping neighbors, Thomas, how cold the city is this year, his new exhibition, your boring surveillance work—keeping it light and casual.

It almost feels like nothing has changed—the two of you chatting, him cracking jokes and teasing you to get a reaction, and the way your stomach flutters every time he brushes against you. He doesn’t do that by accident; you're sure of it.

A pang of longing hits as you realize just how much you’ve missed this. Despite how he gets under your skin like no one else, his friendship means more than you’d ever care to admit.

Yes, he drives you crazy, and your feelings for him are confusing—but he’s always had this way of making the world seem brighter, lighter, and somehow more beautiful than you could ever see it on your own.

"It's so cold. I’m frozen solid," you declare, setting your bags down on the bench outside the train station. You’re about ten minutes early, and the air is only getting colder. Your fingers sting with the chill, and you blow on them in a vain attempt to warm up.

Rafayel sets the rest of the bags beside yours with a chuckle, shaking his head, "You're right, it is cold. Too cold for my delicate hands." He pouts, his brows knitting together as he exaggerates a shiver and opens his arms wide. “Hold me.”

"Raf..." You laugh, amused and exasperated.

"Come on, cutie. Don't you know how body heat works?" He quirks a brow, stepping toward you. "You wouldn't let me freeze to death, would you?"

His smile is dazzling, effortlessly charming, and completely irresistible—the kind that melts your resolve into a mushy mess. It’s the sort of smile that can't be refused.

You reluctantly return his smile, already mostly deaf to the alarm bells ringing in your ears, and step into his embrace. “Okay, okay. Just for a little while.”

Rafayel laughs, a warm sound rumbling through his chest as he wraps one arm tightly around you, pulling you close. With his other hand, he tucks a lock of hair behind your ear, his cold fingers brushing gently over your cheek and neck. The sharp, clean scent of him—citrus and sea salt—fills your senses as you lean into him, soaking in his warmth.

The alarm in the back of your mind grows louder, more frantic, the closer you get. Yet the soft thrum of his heartbeat, syncing with yours, drowns it out, and the warmth of his breath against your skin is enough to silence the knot of warning you feel in your stomach. The familiar scent that clings to him wraps around you like a shield, blocking out even the smallest of doubts.

"Hold still," he says softly, his fingers threading through your hair as he gently combs it out. "You've got snowflakes in your hair."

A sarcastic remark hovers on the tip of your tongue—of course you have snowflakes in your hair, he does too, it's snowing—but the warmth in his eyes as he strokes your hair holds you silent. His fingers are gentle as he carefully smooths your hair back even as more snowflakes continue to fall, and he leans even closer to see his task clearly in the dim evening light.

Your cheeks flush as he moves closer, leaning into you, and a familiar warmth builds inside of you, making it hard to breathe evenly. You turn your head away from his hand, but he frowns and gently cups your cheek, tilting your face up to his.

"Hey," he scolds gently, "I'm not done. Don't move."

But his hand doesn’t return to your hair. Instead, he gently caresses your reddening cheek, a soft smile spreading across his face. "You're being pretty shy," he murmurs.

And you are. No sarcastic remarks or witty comebacks come to mind, not with the way he’s pressed against you, the softness of his touch on your cheek, and with his face so close to yours. The only sound you can make is a quiet hum that doesn't mean anything at all.

His eyes roam from your cheek to your ears and down to your neck, and he slides his hand along the same path. "Hmm. Your cheeks, and your ears, and even your neck...are all so cold. Do you want me to help warm you up?"

It’s not just warmth in his eyes anymore; it’s heat, and your stomach flips as he drops the tone of his voice to a low purr. The feel of his warm breath against the side of your neck makes your pulse quicken and your own breath catches in your throat.

"Is it working?" He whispers, his lips brushing against your skin as he speaks.

You nod, barely breathing, as the heat that has built inside of you threatens to ignite into a blaze, your body trembling as you press against him.

“What about here?” Rafayel asks, shifting to the other side of your neck. His warm breath caresses your cool skin before he nuzzles close, trailing slow, lingering kisses from your ear to your neck.

He’s never kissed you before; of that, you’re certain. Yet somehow, in this moment, it’s as if you’re reliving a memory. His warmth, his scent, his touch, the way his body presses against yours—it feels natural, achingly familiar, as if you’ve known it all along. You could lose yourself here, drown in the sensation, and never surface again.

You’re trembling, but not from the cold, as Rafayel pulls back, his hands gently cupping your face. “You’re so quiet,” he says, his voice laced with curiosity. “I haven't the slightest idea of what’s going on in that head of yours. Have my awesome heating skills truly rendered you speechless?”

All you can manage is a shaky laugh, more like a breathless gasp, unable to form a single coherent word as a wave of déjà vu hits you, overwhelming and intense.

"Looking at my bodyguard..." He pauses, a teasing smile tugging at his lips. "I can't tell if she's happy right now..." Leaning in, he brushes a soft kiss against the corner of your lips, then locks eyes with you. "Or maybe she's not?"

You stare, wide-eyed, unable to break free from the grip of the dizzying familiarity of this all— frozen in place by how deeply, unexplainably right it all feels.

"Raf, I..." You trail off, lost for words, unsure of what you're trying to express, but knowing you have to say something. Anything. That you can't do this with him, or that you need more of him. Or that, sometimes, two things can be true.

Before you can untangle your thoughts or find the words to express your conflicted feelings, he silences you with a kiss. It’s gentle at first, tentative—his lips brushing softly against yours. Then the kiss deepens, his mouth pressing to yours with an intensity that feels raw, as if the longing comes from the depths of his soul.

You’re drowning now, clinging to him as if he’s your anchor amid the waves of emotion and memory crashing over you. For a moment, time and space collapse, and it feels like this has always been your life, as if this is just one second in a lifetime spent with him like this.

But the brush of his tongue against yours snaps you back to reality, and you tense in his arms, your hand moving to the back of his neck to gently pull him away.

"What?" he whispers, breaking the kiss as he rests his forehead against yours. "Do you want me to stop?"

His voice sounds so tender and hopeful that it breaks your heart a little, and your stomach twists with guilt as you lean away from his embrace.

In another life, you’d beg him to keep going. In another universe, you’d be his completely—mind, body, and soul. You can feel the way his heart calls your name.

But not this life; not in this universe. In all of the world, there is only one call your heart answers to, and it is Xavier's.

“Raf,” you whisper, your voice soft and aching, “I’m so sorry, but—”

"I know what you're going to say," Raf cuts you off before you even finish, hurt replacing the warmth in his eyes, "Sooo you don't have to say it."

He drops his hands from your face and steps back, and the cold wind that cuts through you is nothing compared to the burning ache flaring to life in your chest.

He runs a hand through his hair, shaking loose a few snowflakes, and lets out a bitter laugh. “I guess things with the ‘fake’ husband aren’t so fake anymore, yeah?”

"I love him," you admit, the words escaping before you can stop them, leaving you stunned. You’d never said it out loud before, never dared to voice what you felt. But now it’s out, and there's no taking it back.

Rafayel laughs again, a choked sound that gets stuck in his throat, and looks up at the sky as if searching for an answer there. After a moment, he groans softly before his eyes return to yours, "Oh, that intense, huh?"

You nod, silent, unwilling to say anything more for fear of deepening the hurt in his eyes. The few feet of space between you feel insurmountable, and you itch to close the distance, to reach out and comfort him somehow.

Rafayel sighs, his hand motioning toward the empty air, as if Xavier were standing here, too. "Is he... is he better than me?"

"No, Raf," You groan, the ache in your heart burning even brighter, "He's not better. It's just...different. I can't explain it."

Rafayel looks away again, his lips pressing together in a tight line, before turning back to you with an uncharacteristic seriousness in his eyes. "Just...promise you won't forget about me, okay?"

Tears sting your cheeks, and the hurt, desperate sound of his plea is all the proof you need to understand that a broken heart can keep breaking.

"Oh, Raf, I could never forget about you," you promise, stepping closer. You reach for his arm just as the train pulls into the station, the loudspeaker announcing its arrival.

"I won’t," you swear, ignoring the blaring sound. "Never."

He steps back from your outstretched fingers, and his voice and eyes harden as he replies, "You will. You always do."

The train stops, passengers streaming past, and you open your mouth, trying to reassure him—but no words come. A wave of uncertainty hits as his cryptic words echo in your mind, and you fail to make sense of them.

The option to reach for him, to pull him close and comfort him, is stolen from you as he turns around and starts walking back in the direction you came.

"Get on the train," he calls over his shoulder, "Don't keep Romeo waiting."

You hesitate, your fist clenching as your heart and mind fight for control. Watching him walk away feels like losing a part of yourself, though you can't quite understand why.

You board the train with tears in your eyes, and search through your purse for your phone. You send a quick message to Xavier to let him know you'll be there soon, and try to collect the pieces of your heart as the train speeds toward home.

Xavier chose you yesterday. And today, you chose him.

This star isn't going anywhere.

#lads fanfic #lads x reader #lads xavier #love and deepspace #lnds #fanfic #xavier x reader #lads sylus #lads rafayel #l&ds xavier #l&ds rafayel #l&ds

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thef1diary · 1 year ago

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Memories | D. Ricciardo

Summary: Daniel's return to RedBull is not just a return to the team, it's a return to you but it just might be too late for that.

Based on the song Memories by Conan Gray

Warnings: angst, fluff, coarse language

Word Count: 2.9k+

Note: this is a repost of a one shot from my old account. Felt like I should start with this since Danny’s back on the grid.

The chapter that seemed like it was never ending has finally ended. Daniel is free from McLaren. It wasn't just a team-oh how he wishes it was-it was worse than anything he could've possibly been through.

Or so he thought.

Signing the papers at RedBull to be a third driver wasn't something he thought he'd ever do. But the team treated him better than McLaren ever could. So he was happy. Glad to return to a place where his mental health could be at ease.

That was, until he remembered everything that happened once he left. He remembered how things ended between you and him.

‘It's been a couple of months’

You can't say that you're happy but at least you're better than you were a while ago. When you heard the news of Daniel Ricciardo returning to RedBull, it was an overload of emotions that you kept locked away.

‘That's just about enough time for me to stop crying when I look at all the pictures’

You remember the first day you met Daniel, all those years ago when you joined the team to handle the social media side of it all. You two were well acquainted from the moment you began. He was one of the very few people who personally welcomed you in the team.

Then, you sat right beside him, giving him a little special treatment as you showed him the photos you were planning on posting to the team's socials. It was of him, smiling wide as he always did, while talking to his teammate.

It's been a long time since then, so you never thought you'd be the one posting the photo of him once again clad in a RedBull team shirt.

‘Now I kinda smile, I haven't felt that in a while’

You briefly forgot about his return to the team-well truthfully, you were trying to avoid it as much as you could. You weren't upset that he was returning, you were just trying to wrap your head around the fact that you'd have to see him more often. Hearing his accented voice, laughs, jokes wasn't something you could prepare for.

You could avoid him when he was at McLaren, but you didn't need to as much. Mainly because he never came to the garage just for you.

He was in too deep with the mess at McLaren since day two, and as much as he wanted to, he couldn't make the time out too come see you. You knew parts of what happened at McLaren through Max, because Daniel would always talk to him. It hurt that he didn't come to you. You thought that you would still be the person he'd come to with his problems, not run away from.

Fortunately, you didn't see him at all since the announcement. Well, you were invited at a party where everyone was welcoming him but you didn't go because you weren't feeling well. Which was kind of a lie.

However, you didn't know that Daniel was only excited for the gathering because he wanted to see you. It was selfish, wanting to see you when he was the one who ended things, but if he wasn't selfish now, then he'd lose everything he needed.

Maybe he already did but he didn't want to accept it.

Once he set his mind on something, he would do anything to complete it. And now, he wanted to see you.

‘It's late, I hear the door

Bell ringing, and it's pouring’

You should be asleep by now, it's midnight and you have an early day tomorrow. But you couldn't. You want to believe that it's because you slept in today, but you know deep down that it's not.

It's hard to submit to the silence of the night when you don't want to be lonely. Fighting that thought, you step out in the kitchen to fill a glass of water. But that is long forgotten when you hear a knock on the door. You want to believe that it's just the sound of rain tapping against the wooden door.

You stood there, frozen as you watched the door, knowing that someone was standing on the other side. And you knew who it was, just didn't want to accept it yet.

Then, the doorbell rang, making you flinch as the sound was quite loud compared to the soft patter of the rain against the glass. Taking a deep breath, you decided to feel a bit of pity on the man, knowing him well enough that he didn't bring an umbrella with him.

‘I open up that door, see your brown eyes at the entrance’

As expected, all he had on was a hood that was now soaking wet. His curls laid flat on his forehead, matted due to the rain.

His eyes no longer had the brightness in them that they once did. You felt bad, but didn't say anything.

Daniel felt relief as soon as he saw you. His arms were itching to wrap around you. "Hi" he said, but his voice was rough, as if he didn't say a single word in a long time. Well, he didn't, to you.

You didn't respond. You might've been friends and something more before, but right now you did not want to engage in a normal conversation with him. Nothing in between you two was normal.

‘You just wanna talk, and I can't turn away a wet dog’

You gave in after he asked to come inside a few times. The first few times you denied, but he didn't let up. The only reason you let him in was because it was raining outside, and you didn't want him to get sick.

God, he was so clingy when sick. He would avoid you when he starts to notice that he wasn't feeling the best. But the calls and messages wouldn't stop, in fact, it would increase. Regular messages became phone calls, then video calls because he claimed that he couldn't go a day without seeing your face.

Then, when you would show up with some essentials to help him feel better-because all what he would do is try to sleep it off which never worked-he wouldn't like it at first. You would stand at the door, while he would try to hide the smile growing on his face knowing that you want to take care of him. But maybe you shouldn't have, because not only did you get sick, but you began getting used to being around him.

‘But please, don't ruin this for me

Please, don't make it harder than it already is’

You turned around but his hand instantly caught yours, turning you back around to face him, pulling you towards him. Your other hand landed on his chest to stop you from being fully pressed against him.

You looked up and just for a moment you got lost in his eyes. Being so close felt familiar yet so strange. The memories of all the times you were this close played in your mind like a movie, but that's all it was, memories.

"I'm sorry" he spoke, and perhaps it was the wrong words to start with because you were brought back to the present and immediately moved away from him.

‘I'm trying to get over this

I wish that you would stay in my memories’

"No" you whispered, quiet enough that he didn't hear the first time. "Don't say that" you continued, louder this time.

Tears were stinging your eyes, but you put in all the effort to hold them back. You didn't want to be weak in front of him. You couldn't, not anymore.

He stepped closer to you again, placing his hands on your cheeks, "but it's true. I miss you"

You brought your hands up to his, making him think you're giving in but you tore his hands away from your face. Not wanting his touch.

‘But you show up today just to ruin things’

"How can you miss me if you're the one who walked away?" You asked, not expecting a response so you walked further into your house.

You knew he wouldn't leave, which meant that you could do one of two things; try to sleep while he's in your house, or stay awake and convince him to leave.

You knew you wouldn't be able to sleep, so you decided on the second option. Walking to the kitchen, you took out two bottles of a stronger form of alcohol.

He followed you inside, looking around at the house he's seen plenty of times, still the same. He muttered a "thanks" when you passed him the bottle with little expression on your face.

You sat on the couch while he stood there, watching you. He was in a familiar place, with a familiar person, but it felt so strange. And this was all because of him.

‘I wanna put you in the past 'cause I'm traumatized

But you're not letting me do that 'cause tonight, you're all drunk in my kitchen, curled in a fetal position’

"Why weren't you at the party?" He asked, a simple question that held a stronger meaning behind. "Wasn't feeling well" you simply replied but you knew that he knew it was a lie.

You took a swig of the alcohol, wanting some liquid courage to say what you've been planning to for all this time. "You know, you don't have to come here just because you're joining the team again."

"That's what you think I'm here for?" He asked, incredulously. You looked up at him but quickly broke the eye contact because it became too overbearing, "why else?"

He sat on the couch in front of you, "there used to be a time where you didn't question me even if I came this late"

You scoffed, "why are you acting like I'm the one who ended things when you're the one who woke up one day and decided to act like we were strangers?"

‘Too busy playing the victim to be listening to me when I say 'I wish that you would stay in my memories'

"I wish I didn't" he hung his head low. It was quiet for a few moments but the silence was deafening. "Yeah, I wish you didn't."

‘In my memories, stay in my memories’

You looked around everywhere to avoid his eyes, but his were fixated on you. He still looked at you with that loving emotion, but the only difference was that his eyes also held pain in them. His bubble was bursting, and he didn't know what to do.

Standing up, you placed the empty bottle on the counter and walked towards your room. As expected, he followed.

"You know what, I'm actually glad that you're here. It'll save me a trip." You spoke as you walked to your closet, sorting through the clothes that belonged to him.

Your actions were rough, probably because of the alcohol. You never had the chance to get rid of his stuff. His stupidly expensive clothes that always smelt like him.

One by one, you threw his clothes at him in frustration. He didn't budge, letting his clothes fall to the floor as he watched you. Taking out the last hoodie you had of his, you remembered when he gave it to you.

It was raining, quite like tonight, but the circumstance was very different. That night, you two were completely sober, but drunk off of each other's presence. Walking to his home, both of you were soaking wet.

Daniel gave you a towel, telling you to go take a warm shower while he laid out his clothes for you. He was very tempted to join you, but he chose not to.

His clothes smelt like him, and you were instantly comforted. But now, that scent overwhelmed you, reminded you of what you were and what you could've been.

Throwing that last piece of clothing at him from a closer distance, you began hitting your fists against his chest. "You left me Dan. You fucking left me. God we were doing so well, I was so happy with you. But no, you had to pull some shitty move and ruin it all."

He let you express your frustration until you started crying. Tears were streaming down your cheeks, and he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you against him. "I know, baby, I'm sorry"

‘Now I can't say, 'goodbye' if you'll stay here the whole night you see, it's hard to find an end to something that you keep beginning’

He sighed in relief when he felt your arms tightly wrap around his body. He knew he had a lot to work for; your trust, your love, and you. But he would do it. All for you.

‘Over and over again, I promise that the ending always stays the same’

His relief was very brief, because you parted away from him. Not completely because you were still in his grasp, but you were still stiff, letting him know that you were still on the edge.

"I promise I'll fix everything" he spoke, wiping your tears. You began shaking your head, "you can't"

"Give me a chance, my love, yes we can"

‘So there's no good reason in make-believing’

"You're holding on to a dream, Daniel, a memory. I'm trying my best to move on, so please just let me" you pleaded, moving away from him what felt like the millionth time.

‘That we could ever exist again, I can't be your friend, can't be your lover’

"I don't want us to be a memory, that would kill me" he closed his eyes, not wanting to believe that there would be a future without you. "I don't want you to move on, I know you have a little bit of love for me in your heart."

‘Can't be the reason we hold back each other from falling in love with someone other than me’

"Call me selfish but I don't want to see you with someone else." He continued while you were at a loss for words. Daniel held your hands, wanting something, someone-you-to ground him. He longed for your presence, your warmth.

You two stood there in silence, once again. Your heartbeat was pounding in your ears.

Moving your hands out of his grasp, he hung his head low again, thinking that he lost you forever. Instead of walking away like he expected you to, you lifted his head by placing your fingers underneath his chin.

You realized that he was crying. No matter how bad things got, you've never once seen him cry. But that was because he was always happy around you. He never once felt like he did now in front of you.

Even now, his tears weren't because of you, it was because he believe that he failed. He failed because his love wasn't enough for you.

‘Since you came, I'll let you stay’

"You never give up, do you?" You asked, still sniffling. "For you, never"

"You're not going to leave me again right?" As soon as you got the words out, he began shaking his head, "not until I die"

You placed your finger on his lips, not wanting to hear such absurd thoughts, "don't you dare think about dying"

"You can't live without a heart, and the thing is, you own mine" he stated like it was a true fact. To him, you always owned his heart.

"You own mine too, always did, always will" those words made him realize that you didn't want him to leave.

He smiled, through the tears that you wiped away. "Does that mean-" he started but cut himself off when you nodded. "I still hate you for leaving me"

He hugged you, so tightly that it was almost suffocating. But, his love was all you needed to stay alive.

When he parted away from you, he still held on to you, thinking that if he let go, you'll fade away.

"I love you so, so, so much" he expressed, new tears were stinging his eyes. But it was tears of relief.

He didn't know what he'd do if you turned him down. He didn't want to think about it anymore.

"I love you" you smiled for the first time that night, resting your arms around his shoulders.

"Can I kiss you?" He asked, like a school boy asking his crush for the first time ever.

You nodded, and he didn't waste a single second before claiming your lips in a slow, loving kiss. He might've asked like a young school boy but his kiss was nothing like it.

Parting away, you commented on the fact that his clothes were still very much wet, and now yours too because he was still embracing you.

"Go take a shower, or you'll get sick" you instructed. He hesitated at first, and you noticed it. "I'm not going anywhere"

"Promise?"

"I promise"

He pressed another short kiss to your lips before walking towards the bathroom. And you were on your way, making some soup because you knew that he would surely be sick.

And for the first time in a long time, you knew that everything would be alright. Because he was with you.

Your lover, your everything, your Danny.

#f1 #f1 fandom #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1blr #formula 1 #daniel riccardo x reader #daniel ricciardo #daniel riccardo imagine #dr3 #thef1diary fic

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ivymarquis · 1 year ago

Text

Garnish

Pairing| Alex Keller x F!Reader Rating| M Content/Warnings| Free use smut (pre-negotiated terms), dirty talk, a brief sprinkle of dummification

For @glitterypirateduck's Alex Keller Challenge!!! lmao idk why I was so intimidated writing this. I haven't really been the biggest Keller girlie so I had no idea where to go with his voice. Obviously the best way to try and get a handle on it was to write a filthy PWP :) "I bet the neighbors know my name"

Alex would know those earrings anywhere.

They are, without question, his favorite pair of hers. And while a part of him has hoped she would decide to don them after his return home, until this morning the jewelry’d remained sitting in her jewelry box.

Of course they are his favorite for a very specific reason.

The idea of roleplaying a free use housewife fantasy just scratches a deep seated itch inside the both of them. He's already got plans- one day in the very near future- for how he wants to put a ring on that pretty finger. Take the 'house wife' part out of the fantasy by entrenching it firmly in reality where it belongs.

But right now his thoughts are focused less on the engagement band and more on the pair of earrings dangling with every tilt and move of her head. She's taunting him.

The "rules'' are pretty simple. If she's wearing the earrings, Alex has full rein to treat her to like a personal fuck doll whenever and wherever the mood strikes him and she'll go along with it. When she's done playing, the earrings go back in the jewelry box and their sex life is the same as any other couples.

The second he sees her- having walked from the mutual bedroom to their kitchen where he found her upon waking up- he decides that today will be a lot more fun if he takes a slightly different approach to start.

He gives zero acknowledgement of the dangly jewelry despite the fact that he knows she knows there's no way he didn't see them. Just gives a half-sleepy smile and presses an affectionate peck to her temple while murmuring "Good morning, pumpkin." and it takes everything in him to not crack a grin at the indignant look on her face.

No doubt she expects him to jump the moment she gives the go ahead. To pin her down against the cabinets with one arm, lift her skirt with the other and have his wicked wicked way with her.

Oh no, dear heart.

They sit and have a perfectly normal breakfast. Or at least Alex does. His pumpkin looks wild eyed and a little suspicious at his newfound self control. Clearly not expecting it and doesn't know what to do with herself about it.

"Did you sleep alright last night?" he poses the perfectly innocent question. He's being an asshole- he knows it, but he's having too much fun. He knows damn well she slept fine last night because he wore her ass out. Could barely keep her awake long enough to clean everything up.

"Yes, did you?"

"Like a baby. You seem a little jumpy though this morning- might want to watch the caffeine."

Oh she's watching something but it sure as shit wasn't the coffee.

After collecting the dishes and placing them in the sink, Alex whistled to himself while getting ready for the day. Nothing too exciting- just a few 'Honey Do's, after he put his poor girl out of her misery.

She's finding any reason she can to be in the same room as him and it's adorable. Looking for this, needing to place that- she flits in and around like she's worried he'll forget she's there if not in his line of sight.

Eventually an actual task takes her attention off of Alex and that's when he strikes.

She's bent over in front of the dryer, no doubt fishing some far-flung sock that refused to come along quietly with the rest of the laundry.

Well fuck, he can't refuse a sight like that.

He knows her well enough that as one heavy hand lands to grab her wrist, the other fists the back of her hair with enough force to keep her from banging her head against the dryer in case she startles- which she does.

Huh. He'd of thought for sure that maybe a part of her was playing up the whole 'being bent in half in front of the dryer' thing, but from that reaction he's starting to think she was actually just focused on the laundry for a split second.

He doesn't miss the way she relaxes against his hold now that his little game is up. "What a desperate little thing you are. I haven't even done anything and you're ready to roll on your back for me."

Now that he knows she's not going to split her head open on the edge of the dryer he releases her hair, his newly freed hand now reaching down to flip her skirt up.

The sight that greets him is enough to draw a low whistle from the man. "No panties? Naughty girl. Almost like you were expecting to get fucked today." he teases, chuckling to himself as she nods and presses her hips against the stiffening bulge in his pants. "And here I was being a mean, mean man and making my poor girl wait. Surprised you didn't have to clean up your seat after breakfast this morning."

"I was starting to wonder if you were ever going to actually do anything today," she can't help herself but to lightly grouse at him.

"That's the fun of me being in charge of when you get fucked today, pumpkin. I might bend you over every singular solid surface that can hold your weight, or I might make you wait. Choice is all mine."

Well, until she says otherwise. Or if she outright safewords. But that is a given.

His pretty girl is getting spoiled though if she's got time to be grumpy about not being bent over to her satisfaction.

One hand trails over her hip, teasing the exposed skin as he revels in how twitchy she is.

It takes prep- always does, always will. But they'd been at it for a good amount yesterday and with her presently about to melt into a puddle of desire and neglect after this morning, Alex is mindful but not too apprehensive as he opens his pretty girlfriend up on his fingers.

First one, just to confirm his suspicions- she's primed and wants to go, pressing back against him in anticipation as one becomes two. He knows that two of his is something akin to three of her own, and that finally seems to settle her down as his fingers stroke that spot inside of her that has her grabbing at the dryer for leverage and pushing back against it to press further into him.

"That's it, baby. Nice and fucking wet for me. You know what your job is, hm?" he purrs behind her.

"Yes," she pants quietly. "Alex, please-"

"You're spoiled, you know that?" he still ends up pressing an affectionate peck to her temple again, pulling out of her warm body to work on freeing himself one handed.

She's all too eager to help get things rolling- standing on her tip toes and arching her back. It makes it easy to slide into her, taking a few shallow, rolling thrusts to work himself all the way inside.

Rewarded with the sound of her pleased moans, Alex is quick to settle into a pace that he knows will get the pair of them rolling their eyes in no time. At this point he knows how to get her going as certainly as he does to get himself off.

"Oh my God- right there," she moans, her own hands scrambling for purchase against the dryer to brace. Alex bands one arm across her waist while the other continues to knead her hip, keeping her close to him as he thrusts.

'Yeah? That's the spot right there pumpkin?" he asks despite knowing the answer. He just likes watching how she'll go from a smart, capable woman to a dumb little cocksleave desperate for his cum with the right kind of prompting.

"Ye-ye-yeah," she confirms as he stays steadfast in his tempo.

"Fuck,” he groans at the wet heat of her clinging to him like she never wants him to leave her.

Letting go of her hip with one hand but keeping his other banded across her waist, Alex is all too happy to grope at her chest. Fingers plucking at her pebbled nipples- rolling and pinching one before switching to pay attention to the other. Those hitching breaths work in time to his ministrations as he works her up just to pull his hand away from her bust in favor of her clit.

Now that got her attention, each thrust of his hips and slow stroke of his fingers being rewarded with his name a constant chant in her mouth- Alex Alex Alex Alex-

“That good, pumpkin? You gonna- fuck- make a mess for me? Come on, honey, ask me for it,” he goads.

She’s sputtering and scrambling to get her brain in working order- trying to be a good girl. Fucking adorable.

“Alex- fuck,- hgn- Alex- please! Let me- let me,” her brain struggling to play catch up.

“All ya gotta do is ask, honey. You can do that, can’t you?” Pressing another chase kiss to her temple, the dichotomy is not lost on him paired with the absolute filthy noises coming from where they’re joined. She’s gagging for it- literally can’t get the words out of her mouth in the right order. “Must be fucking you good if you can’t even talk properly,” he teases, a grin escaping him when she shoots him a glare over her shoulder. “I bet the neighbors know my name,” the uppity ones who seem to think they’re above socializing with any of the other tenants in the building- brushing off anyone who tries to get to know them.

God they must fucking hate Alex when he’s home after being sent out on mission.

“Alex please! Let me cum, please!”

His fingers kept up that maddening pace until his ears finally register that she did, in fact, use her words.

And Alex is nothing if not a man of his word.

He knows exactly how to change the quiet strumming of his stroking fingertips from the teasing touches meant to ramp her up, and the ones meant to drag her across the finish line.

Those pretty thighs are trembling as Alex plays her like a fiddle. She cums with a cry, seemingly caught off guard by how intense it is.

It doesn’t take much more to get Alex chasing his own end.

He finishes without much fanfare Pulls out, tucks himself away, pulls her skirt down and kisses her temple again before leaving a shaking mess left to sort out the laundry.

Much like breaking the seal on a night out of drinking- now that he’s given into the temptation he just cannot stop the rest of the day. The second his refractory period is up and he feels ready to go another round, he’s seeking her out within the house and can’t wait to climb on top of her.

He may or may not be the reason that lunch burns that day a few hours later. It’s a worthy reason though, and he happily orders takeout as an apology.

Age in bio/pinned or I will block you ♡

#alexkellerchallenge #alex keller x reader #cod x reader #call of duty #my writing

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lovelyspooks · 2 years ago

Text

Want you to be okay

I've been falling asleep to this scenario for weeks because I love hurting my feelings and I need to write it down fr

Peter Parker x reader (no specific gender, they/them pronouns)

word count - 1.6k

Warnings - fluff (at the start) but then angst with no comfort, uncommunicated feelings, shi ion know what else to say

You're Peter Parkers main priority, he makes sure you know that but lately you feel second best to the city you both love

It had been three weeks since you had seen your boyfriend.

You had seen him in class and in the hallways at school yes, and you had had the odd few conversations but you hadn't really seen him at all

Every time you made plans something would come up. Something Spider-Man related.

"sorry bug but I can't make it"

"somethings come up... Reschedule?"

"I promise I'll make it up to you" - the latest apology ditch, you stared at your phone sitting on your bed. This was the third time Peter bailed on you this week.

You were supposed to go to this new Spider-Man themed restaurant that popped up virtually out of nowhere. It was supposed to be a laugh, to take time to make up for the last month of distance but of course stupid new York needed saving. Again.

At first you were understanding, I mean new York is big and Peter is one man, of course he's busy. But as of recently it seems like Peter is doing everything in his power to not spend time with you.

"No, he loves spending time with me" You say to yourself but you can't help but feel your trying to convince yourself rather than state a fact .

You shake your head as you get unready to watch Netflix until Peter inevitably crawled through you window with a new injury you'd had to stitch

You were demanding too much, your boyfriend is here risking his life every night and you're complaining you don't get to see him enough. It was selfish. So as much as you wanted to say something, you stayed quiet

You knew you couldn't keep your feelings bottles up, that at some point you would explode, but until then you played the understanding partner

You changed into a clean set of pyjamas and turned on your small TV that sat across your room. An hour turned to two that turned to three and before you knew it, it was three in the morning.

Giving up on waiting for your boyfriend, you drifted to sleep, careful to leave space for him on your bed.

***************

The next day you woke up to the familiar feeling of heat on your back. Peter had finally come to your window at some point and you couldn't help but feel guilty not being awake when he got there

Somehow sensing you're awake, Peter spoke first.

"hi" he croaked into your neck, obviously he hadn't slept at all last night

"you should've woke me up Pete" you scold as you turn to face the boy you've missed so much, checking his exposed skin for any wounds

"didn't want to disturb you bub" he smiles as he moves his hand to your cheek, caressing it

"that's besides the point" you can't help but smile at your boy, you were supposed to be mad at him for not showing up but when he looks at you with his adorable brown eyes, it's hard to stay mad

"I'm sorry I couldn't make it last night" his eyes softened with obvious guilt as his hand continues to hold your cheek

You sigh as you sit up "it's alright Pete, you've got a job to do, the people need Spider-Man"

"yeah but you need Peter just as much" Peter sits up too and places a hand on your knee

"it's okay Pete, I promise, we can just go another day" you spoke reassuringly at the boy

Peter can tell you're upset but drops the subject

"well... I haven't got anything to do today, and neither do you so does tonight sound good?" Peter cocks his head to the side as he asks and you swear you could die at the sight

"I don't know Pete... Something might come up" you try your best to keep a straight face but fail as Peter smiles wide and attacks your face with his loving kisses

You missed this.

SKIP TO LATER THAT DAY

You were waiting outside the restaurant you and Peter picked out, the reviews were scarce but it was Spidey themed, so you picked it anyways

The agreed time was 8pm but you had shown up early just in case Peter had the same idea but it had been half an hour and Peter still hasn't shown up

You checked your phone in case you didn't hear it go off and Peter sent a text that he was on his way but no, no new texts.

You huff as you tap your foot on the pavement below you .

He'll show. He promised.

After another 30 minutes you came to the realisation that Peter had either forgotten or was dead in an alley somewhere and for his sake, you hoped it was the second one

Lost in your train of thought you were interrupted by a not so happy voice

"excuse me, we're closing" a small girl around your age tells you. She's peeked her head out of the entrance door, tired eyes begging you not to argue and comply

"I'm waiting for my boyfriend..." you check the time. Its been 3 hours

You go to open your mouth but the girl simply shoes her head "you can wait, just don't waste your time waiting in someone who won't show" she smiles pitifully and heads back inside

Just as she leaves you feel raindrops fall onto you. Great.

You sigh as you make your way home embarrassed with your head hung low.

**********

It's been an two hours since you made it home and Peter still hadn't called

You've left him hundreds of messages and voice mails, begging to know if he's alive but no answer

It was 2 am when you heard the familiar noise of your bedroom window opening, a cheerful Peter walks into your room and you feel your rage building up

"where were you? I thought you were dead!" you hiss as you leap out of bed

You watch as Peters face falls, noticing your tear stained cheeks he Remembers your date

"shit, baby I'm so sorry, i forgot" he rushes over to you and rises his hands to cup your cheeks but your swat him away

"you forgot? Peter it's been 5 hours! You can't pick up your phone now?" Peters heart clenches at the fact you only care about his safety and not the fact he ditched you again

"it died, baby I'm so sorry" he tries to touch you again but you move back

"don't touch me" your words are daggers to his heart as you stare at him with disgust

"I've been trying to be understanding Peter... For a month I've let you bail on me again and again and again" you start, your eyes well up with tears

"baby you know I don't do it on purpose, it's just-"

"New York needs you. I know Peter, it all I've been telling myself! But you said it yourself just this morning that I need you too!" the dam breaks as tears fall down your face

When Peter doesn't say anything you can only bring yourself to scoff. You walk out of your room and make your way to the kitchen, Peter right behind you

"What do you want me to say? Sorry i missed our date because i was out saving lives?" you turn on your heels to look at Peter in disbelief

"Don't you dare turn this on me Parker!" Parker. You only call him that when you can't see the person you love when you speak, only the one who's pissing you off

"Well it seems like that's what you want!" Peter raises his arms and slaps them at his sides, he just couldn't understand

You both stood in silence for a while, neither of you knowing what to say

"This isn't working Peter" You sigh as you rest your hands on the kitchen counter.

"What?" Peters heart sinks at your words. You can't be serious can you? No. This is all some joke, Peter knew he messed up forgetting about your date but you weren't seriously going to break up with him were you?

"What are you talking about? Baby I said sorry, can't we just move on?" Peter clung to the possibility of you forgiving him and going back to how things were, before he messed up

"This is exactly what I'm on about! You just don't get it do you?" You stare at Peter only to see a confused face

"It's not just about tonight Pete, it's about all the times you've bailed to go on patrol, half the time you don't even tell me! And what am I supposed to think hm? I'm up all night wondering if you're alive and then you waltz in here like nothing happened with another injury!" You were exhausted and wanted to sleep but you need Peter to understand

"you knew what you was getting yourself in to when we started dating y/n. I told you it wouldn't be easy"

"Well I guess I thought I'd have my boyfriend to help me didn't I?"

"That's not fair"

"Just go Peter" you sigh as you cross your arms

"No." He argues back

"I said go!" you walk to him and push his chest as hard as you can. Peter doesn't even stumble as he looks at you with tears in his eyes

"Go! Go! Go!" you push him with each word, tears streaming down your face

Before you can shout another word Peter takes a step back

"If you really want me to leave, fine just..." He tries to think of something to say, a final plead, anything to make you wrap your arms around him again

"I love you." he whispers out, to his disappointment you stare at him, teary eyed as you bite your lip

Peter pulls his mask as he turns to walk away but no before giving you one last pleading look

When you say nothing, Peter lets out a shaky breath as he leaves. As he swings away he can't help but listen in to you coke out smuffled sobs

He did this to you.

#peter parker #peter parker angst #peter parker x reader #tasm!peter parker x reader #spooky’s work~

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gluion · 10 months ago

Text

safe haven (how much longer do we have?) ➵ jacob bae

jacob bae x reader, slight lee hyunjae x reader

you can only hope for more tomorrows with jacob.

genre/warnings ➵ strangers to lovers, heavy angst with a happy ending, touch of fluff, afab reader (no-gendered terms), lowercase intended, apocalypse au, hurt/comfort (both physical and emotional), depictions of grief, descriptions of gore/blood, use of guns, allusions and discussions of suicide, minor character deaths, hyunjae is your ex, changmin and kevin appearance :'), elements of the last of us (don't support neil druckmann!), mostly written in past tense (because u're remembering!)

word count ➵ 6.2k words

inspired by ➵ “anaheim” by niki, “are you happy?” by @wavesmp3, “love wins all” by iu, episode three of hbo's the last of us, and “you’re gonna carry that weight” quote from cowboy bebop

a/n ➵ my life changed forever reading shawna's piece. thank you for letting me write a piece based on your work (if you haven't read it, go check it out!) just like you, i am a sucker for apocalypse aus :')) hope i did justice to your beautiful work. anyway, love wins all coming out yesterday was a miracle because it's definitely made for this fic </3 thank you to @heemingyu and @deobienthusiast for betareading a bit of this! if you enjoyed reading, please do reblog and leave feedback!

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time was the one thing that occupied everyone’s minds. it held value, something that shouldn’t be wasted, and people revolved their lives around it.

questions flew around with every tick and tock—what day is it today? when’s your next doctor’s appointment? how long has it been since you’ve last seen your friends from high school? until when does this meeting last?

as the hands of the clock continue to rotate, the calendar pages would flip along. birthdays were celebrated with every revolution as candles on cakes were lit up, awaiting the puff of celebrants as they wished for their desires. holidays were ones to look forward to; people dressed up to celebrate periods of the year that mattered to them while others slept in until noon. and days were spent counting down until graduations, where caps with tassels would fly to the expanse of blue and orange as cheers and sobs sound throughout.

but now, no one keeps track of time. clocks stopped moving and calendars weren’t produced annually. once the surge of the infected took over, grabbing on humans, taking them away from the lives they’ve lived, everyone ran like they were running out of time. with every second that passes, people are ridden with possibilities of how they might bid farewell to life itself—would it be through the hands of the infected or their own?

now, only one question echoes within their minds: how long do we have?

yet, the clock continues—tick, tock, tick, tock. it keeps going, and going, and going, like how everyone expects it. while everyone seemed to let time go, you still kept track of it all: birthdays, holidays, a graduation you never had.

the outbreak hit two years ago on the day of hyunjae’s graduation. cheers turned into screams. white togas and diplomas were splattered with red. the lively became lifeless.

you remember hyunjae’s hand in yours, fingers gripping you as if you were his life, as you charged out of the gymnasium, legs keeping up with the speed of his. you darted off to nowhere as images of the infected tearing people apart took up every block, all the way from skin to bone.

and while it was a rush of tragedies, hyunjae was the only hope you had.

“keep your eyes on me,” he glanced at you, eyes off the path as he met your gaze. “don’t look at them. only look at me.”

it was impossible to ignore the wails that filled your ears, but you would repeat his words—his soft-spoken voice—to drown them out.

by nightfall, you and hyunjae found yourselves in a motel room, skin cleaned from blood splatters and dressed in clothes that engulfed your figures, and in each other’s arms on a twin-sized bed. the duvet that wrapped around you two is thin, not at all keeping you warm for the night, but the warmth of hyunjae was enough to provide you a sense of security—stability amidst the ever-changing world.

he whispered into the crown of your head, words meant to dispel your fears, all while you sobbed into his shirt. there was nothing that he could do but stay strong for you.

and for a few days, that room acted as your safe haven. the time spent within those four walls is the life you imagined your future with hyunjae. it would’ve been in a two-story house with a garden where a singular orange tree stands, lounging on the couch as you played movies to fall asleep to, but all you had was an old room with a carpeted floor with unrecognizable stains and a bathroom unable to fit two.

yet, you would choose this over anything. even if it meant eating instant noodles for every meal or sleeping on a mattress that ruins your backs, you would choose this if it meant hyunjae would be with you.

still, time continues to move. hyunjae knew that you both couldn’t stay in that room or else the infected may reach you. so when you both went to bed on that last night, you outlined his features from the space between his eyebrows all the way to his lips, and you spent that time memorizing his warmth to carry with you for the rest of your life. you could only hope that he stays with you until the end.

after a month passed, you and hyunjae met changmin, an injured boy who only wanted to live. at first, hyunjae was hesitant to take the stranger in, but you wouldn’t allow yourself to live with the idea of abandoning someone in need. in a world where the infected have taken over, it only seemed right to help out others, save them from a fate they’re not ready to meet.

what started off as a pair turned into a trio. you’ve learned more about what it takes to survive in this life. long gone is the need for money to buy necessities; you need to scavenge if you want to live in an infected-ridden world. thanks to changmin, you and hyunjae got to learn about how to find supplies in every building that you pass on the journey.

but it’s not enough to know where to find food and bullets. hyunjae decided that it was only right to teach you how to use a gun. with every morning that came, you two spent hours learning how to hold, reload, and fire.

“don’t worry,” he told you as his chin hovered over your shoulder. you both stared at the tin can situated on a stack of boxes only a few meters away. “you won’t have to worry about fighting alone. i’ll be here with you.” as you exhaled, your eyes zeroed in on the target. “now, shoot.”

six months have passed, and you were happy that you were still a trio. changmin became your best friend over that time. his laughs were enough to shine glimmers of hope onto you. you were glad that you decided to help him off the ground and tend his bullet wound that day.

until you found yourselves retreating from the horde of infected.

time moves at a constant speed but it can become swift if it decides to. when you and changmin reached the doors leading to safety, you remember seeing hyunjae fighting off those who were once like you, bullets firing at their heads. you remember your screams, telling him to run to you—go to where it’s safe—so that you can keep having tomorrows with him.

yet, hyunjae glanced at changmin, nodding at him before his eyes met yours. you watched how his mouth moves, a soundless three-word phrase leaving him before the doors shut before you. you would’ve pried them open but changmin kept his arms around you, holding you back from letting the infected reach you, from letting hyunjae come back to you.

the wails that left you are enough to attract the infected. if only the infected were to burst through the doors, grab onto you and bring you to hyunjae, then maybe you would stop crying. yet, changmin dragged you away. you never saw him as your best friend after that.

a month passed, and you still refused to talk to him. the boy tried to strike up a conversation with you, trying to earn your laugh like he used to, but he was only met with a cold shoulder. with every brick he put, you smashed your sledgehammer against it, dispelling any hope he had in rekindling his friendship with you.

the two of you learned to live in silence, fighting for survival while dealing with the loss of the one who would always bring you both to safety.

until you came across another boy who pointed his gun toward you. his defensive demeanor reminded you of hyunjae, and you wondered if this was his doing—his reincarnation. but before he could pull the trigger, changmin saved you from meeting your fate.

somehow, the duo had turned into a trio once more. you still refused to talk to changmin, but would eavesdrop on the conversations he shared with the stranger. you learned that the new addition is named jacob.

but even the stranger wasn’t enough to fill the void that hyunjae left. with every nightfall, when the soft snores of the two boys filled your ears, tears streamed down your face as sobs threatened to spill out of your mouth. the palm of your hand wasn’t enough to muffle your weeps. behind your eyelids, hyunjae’s last words to you play on repeat—the ones he failed to say, the ones you’ll never hear again.

maybe if you didn’t leave that motel room then he would’ve still been with you, arms finding their place around your waist as he trails kisses all over you. if the outbreak didn’t happen, then maybe you would be living in that two-story house with him. maybe you would wake up to a glass of freshly squeezed orange juice by the bedside table and the warmth of his lips on your forehead. and maybe you could finally tell him yes before he slips the silver band on your finger—you could’ve grown with him until your hair turns grey.

the weight you carry never got lighter with time. the void continued to consume you whole with the goal of ripping you apart. as another month passed, another life was lost—not to the infected but to the raiders.

“changmin, you have to stay with me.” those were the first words you told him since hyunjae’s death. crimson continued to spill out of his abdomen through the gaps between your fingertips in the same way tears flow out. “jacob! find gauze, betadine, anything!” you never glanced at the stranger, keeping your gaze on your best friend whose eyes continued to droop.

still, changmin caressed your face, thumb wiping teardrops. as he slowly entered territories that you both knew he would never escape, he grinned at you one last time. “i missed hearing you. i’m glad you’ll be the last thing i hear.”

but you tried to tell him that you couldn’t be the last voice he heard. it should’ve been with someone he can imagine his future with, maybe in a two-story house or a cramped flat in an apartment complex. he deserves more tomorrows in the same way hyunjae did.

but time continues to move. it took him away from you in a matter of minutes, slithering away without a second thought and no regard for the value of life, and all you were left with was his temple—still, lifeless. as you sobbed into his shirt, still holding the wound, the warmth of jacob’s hand stayed on your back, moving along with your wails.

now, you carry the loss of two. it never got easier with time.

jacob still sticks with you. it only seemed right. stay strong in numbers as you wander off to nowhere, grasping at the loose ends of survival.

two weeks have passed. you and jacob got used to the new dynamic; while he goes hunting and you’re tasked with scavenging, you both played your roles in combat, ready for any raid or horde. when night would come, you both took shifts, keeping watch while the other got some shut-eye.

until that one evening.

you recall the sounds of wood crackling from the fire. it stood strong against the breeze—burning, shining—surrounded by greens that latch on browns. hues of amber cascaded over your skin, painting you with warmth—it’ll never compare to the one you craved. your eyes drifted to jacob who sat across from you, his eyes trained on the fire as he rubbed his palms together. perhaps he craved the same type of warmth you longed for.

“we used to be three.” his eyes snapped towards yours. “before you came, we used to be three—changmin, me, and—” it rose in you like bile, wanting to escape but never leaving. “we were three then.”

you glanced at the fire that continued to burn. “we met changmin a month after the outbreak, spent six months together until—” the claws of the void struck against your throat, holding you back from sharing with the stranger what your life was before he came. while you never found the right words to say, jacob never pushed, letting you say what you wanted to share while filling in the blanks on his own.

“i resented changmin after what happened.” you moved your gaze to jacob whose eyes never left you. “refused to talk to him. refused to forgive.” and you remember how you hesitated, taking a deep breath in before sputtering out the next sentence. “refused to accept.”

nine months ago, the outbreak didn’t happen. nine months ago, you were attending hyunjae’s graduation. nine months ago, you two were imagining your tomorrows—together, for eternity.

and those nine months fractured all hopes and dreams; the glass is now littered with cracks, ready to burst into shards.

“but i think about the last time we saw changmin,” the image of him sitting in front of you all frail, treading the line between life and death, flashed in front of you; it’s quick but strong to remind you of what’s lost. “and i wish i could’ve learned how to forgive during those two months.”

but it was an impossible request. how could you ever forgive a boy you’ve known for only six months for taking your future away? how could you forgive a world that took him away? how could you forgive and live?

and still, you did.

you left it at that. they were enough. so when you told jacob that you’ll take over tonight’s shift, he never asked to hear more. instead, he laid near the campfire as you keep an eye out.

and once enough hours have passed, you allowed yourself to sob like other nights. the breeze that passed through branches reminded you of changmin; rustling leaves imitated the giggles of the boy you’ve only known during the apocalypse.

the wind that grazed against your skin should’ve been a nuisance, but the warmth of the fire wrapped you up like the duvet in that motel room. and you don’t complain—it’s the only part of hyunjae you have left.

the heat was enough to last you the night, but the chill of reality sent you back to the void.

that night, jacob listened to your sobs. not one of you got enough rest for the journey.

another two weeks went by. you two got into a better groove of the routine; instead of hunting and scavenging in silence, you and jacob found yourselves talking more about your lives before the outbreak. you learned that he was born the same year as hyunjae, and he shared that he had plans to pursue music.

“if the world finds a cure to this mess, you have to promise me that you’ll get me front-row tickets to your first show.” it was a joke. in what world could there be a cure for the infected? but the wishful thinking of what could be—what could’ve been—is all you had left.

still, jacob promised you that.

that night, you two stayed in the living room of an abandoned house. instead of lighting the fireplace, candles were placed on the coffee table. they shined in the middle of you two, you who stayed on the couch and jacob who sat on the mattress lying on the floor.

“where were you?” his eyes met yours. “on the day of the outbreak, i mean.”

he leaned back, hands resting on the mattress before he looked once more at the wax that continued to melt. “it was my graduation.” it hit you like a sudden downpour on a sunny day. “i was next in line to go up on the stage until the infected came.”

and when you said the name of the university, his gaze met yours as his shoulders stiffened. “m—my hyunjae.” it’s the first time you spoke of his name, and the sight of jacob’s eyes widening over it was enough to speak for himself.

“i—i didn’t know,” he whispered, but his words were loud enough to shatter glass. “i only spoke to him a few times. he spoke of you with so much love.”

your heart skipped beats; it should’ve been enough to send you off into the same territories where hyunjae and changmin now stay. your mouth turned dry as jacob’s voice morphed into radio silence.

before you knew it, the two of you left the information to hang in the air as you tried to drift into slumber. the clock continues to tick. minutes turned into hours; time moves like it usually does once more.

yet, you were stuck in the same gymnasium, fixing hyunjae’s toga as you scolded him about how wrinkled it’s become—hey! you’ll go up on stage soon. we can’t take pictures of you like this. despite your words, he smiled at you before grazing his lips on your temple—his silent way of telling you the three-word phrase.

in a split second, you were off the couch. you barged out of the house, clutching your chest as the knot constricted your throat, and your feet dragged you off to nowhere. every sound has turned into a buzz—only the voice of hyunjae being the one clear thing amidst the hysteria.

before you knew it, you stood before a horizon of green. it takes only one step into the woods, alone with no protection, for you to meet your demise. you would’ve charged into it in the same way you would’ve charged out to save hyunjae that day.

all it takes is one step, and—

“what are you doing?!” a pair of hands gripped your shoulders, spinning you around until you were face-to-face with the last form of life that you know of. his breaths were short as his fingers dug into your arms. “you can’t just rush out in the middle of the night! i woke up worried sick.” his eyebrows knitted in frustration. confusion. distress.

the voice was caught in your throat. how does one begin to unpack the baggage they’ve learned to carry? when the items they bring are revolting, rotten, repugnant, how does someone not feel shame about showing all the tattered-up objects? how do you learn to open up to someone you’ve only known for three months?

your hands trembled; you’ve carried the weight of it all for too long.

in that split second, your nose met the juncture between his chin and shoulder. the material of his shirt against your cheek allowed you to bathe in what you miss—the hand of changmin that once caressed your face, the lips of hyunjae that lingered with every kiss. all the moments that you hoped time would freeze just for you lives in the boy you stick with for survival.

all it took were jacob’s hands to rest on the lower side of your back for the tears to begin their stream. the sobs spill out. for once, they weren’t muffled like those other nights. they sounded throughout the space that surrounded you two. you allowed yourself to drop the baggage only for a few minutes.

jacob took you back to the house that night, allowing you to sob about all that you’ve kept under the wraps. when sunrise came, you found your legs mixed with his as his arms remained wrapped around you, and your ear pressed against his chest. the sound of his breathing is the one reminder of what a safe haven is.

half a year went by. jacob still stays by your side. the baggage got lighter.

it should’ve been the same routine; jacob goes off to hunt while you scavenge, and you’ll take turns on the night shifts. but that night shifted something between you two—stolen glances, quiet giggles, linked fingers.

two months have gone by. the moon shined through the trees, their shadows cascading on an abandoned cabin that you and jacob decided to stay in for that night.

it should’ve been the same set-up as other nights spent in abandoned houses; you’ll sleep on the couch while he sleeps on a dragged-out mattress. instead, he sat with you on the couch, your back resting on his chest along with his hand staying on your arm.

a lit candle rested on the table; its amber tones painted the jacob’s skin—close to the fruit tree that stands in your lost future.

“what would you do if there is a cure to this?” you watched how his fingers danced across your skin, calloused from plucking guitar strings or wielding a gun.

jacob’s chest rumbled against your back as he hummed. “what would you do?”

a giggle left you as you looked at the boy. “i was the one who asked you first!”

he shot you a grin as his hand slipped into yours. the candle continued to burn; it did a poor job of giving you light and warmth that night. but he did it all—one smile. one exhale. one indication to show that he lives.

“travel, maybe? or i’ll go back to writing music.” you nodded at his plans before looking back at the light source. “what about you?”

“i don’t know.”

there was no point in going back to university after such a catastrophe. if anything, the year spent surrounded by the infected, fighting for survival, has shown you that there’s more to life than the perpetual cycle of working a nine-to-five.

so…

“i would settle down if i could.” the wax continued to melt. “i think i’ve seen enough of the world. for once, i just want to stay home, indulge in my hobbies, live the life that i want.”

his breath grazed the top of your head. “with someone?” and suddenly, you became aware of it all—the heat that emitted from his palm, the movement of his chest against your back, the gravity of his question.

the words get caught in your throat. your heartbeat rang in your ears. for the first time since hyunjae’s death, you considered it.

“with someone.”

before you knew it, his hand caressed your cheek. you were forced to meet his eyes—they glistened with devotion. he leaned forward, his breath grazing your skin while you held in yours. you didn’t miss how his gaze flickered to your lips before he met your eyes once more.

then, he held back. it’s a choice, one only you can make. but when your eyes shut, it’s a quiet plea—a silent yes.

his lips met yours.

the warmth that blossomed in your chest wasn’t like the one in that motel room. not like the embrace of the one you’ve lost. it was one of all seasons—changing with the weather, bringing comfort throughout the everchanging times.

it’s a perpetual cycle of fighting for survival. you’ll endure through it all.

a month passed by, and you came across another boy on the journey. he’s named kevin, and he told you of a safe haven located in the town that you and jacob grew up in.

for a moment, it was an internal debate—should you go back to where the downfall started? can you go to where the memory of hyunjae still lives?

but one glance at jacob was enough to settle it. the three of you embarked on your journey.

you remember that day. it was a walk with the goal of finding a car to make the journey back an easy one. the heat of the sun prickled against your skin, but you still kept your arms crossed.

“are you two together?” kevin asked, causing you to whip your head towards him. your eyes met jacob’s for a split second—confusion, dejection—before they landed back at the stranger who kept his eyes on the path you took.

“no, we aren’t.”

for the rest of the journey, it was quiet.

sundown came, and you found yourselves in a convenience store for that night’s shelter. jacob was in charge of taking the night shift, allowing you and kevin to rest up. when the stranger went off to sleep on the makeshift bed, you were left alone with jacob.

you watched how he cleaned his gun with a rag stained with dark splotches. the moon gleamed through the window—it cannot compare to how jacob shines.

you needed to get some sleep is what you tell yourself. with one spin, you were about to make your way to where you’d sleep for that night.

“are we really not?” you halted in your tracks. you couldn’t look at him. “did it mean nothing?”

not a single answer left your mouth. your eyes remained straightforward, refusing to meet his gaze.

the warmth vanished with a lack of an answer. instead, it was replaced once more with the cold—the void—that attempted to consume you whole.

and when a scornful chuckle left jacob, you knew that you’d burnt the bridge. you walked away, leaving him to do his job, bidding farewell to the closest form of a safe haven.

two weeks went by, and another goodbye had to be done. kevin stood in front of you two, a grin on his lips while tears streamed down his face. his arm was out, revealing a bite mark. the veins near the wound had already turned black. he would’ve turned in a few hours.

“go out.” those were jacob’s first words to you since that night in the convenience store.

you remember the last thing you told kevin before you left the room—you’ll get to your safe haven. the sobs that spilled out of him are ones you’ll never forget. and when you shut the door behind you, it took 20 seconds until you heard a gunshot.

the weight got heavier once more.

another two weeks went by, and you and jacob found yourselves standing in front of the remains of a safe haven. the fences were torn down. streaks of dark red littered over pavements. not a single sight of a soul lived.

still, you two trudged your way through the town, all the way until you reached jacob’s house. like others, his was abandoned. the cream walls were littered with red strokes and vines. when you both entered, you didn’t miss how jacob’s eyes lingered on a photo hung on the wall—a picture of him, his brother, and his parents.

you gave him all the time he needed to explore, to sit with the mess, while you stayed in the living room. as you sat on the couch that had gathered dust, you caught sight of a bowl of plastic produce that rested on the coffee table. it held a variety of fruits whose paint had chipped: watermelon, chestnut, and fig.

but amidst the crowd of old, torn-down, plastic fruits, a pear and an orange leaned against each other as grime collected on them. once your hands reached out to the fruits, you pulled them apart—a mess of green and orange stained the two.

he came back to you in 30 minutes, eyes glistening with tears. yet, he only gave you a nod, and you two went to another house.

you then stood in front of your old house with jacob by your side. weeds grew in the front yard, and the wooden exterior has turned a few shades darker. silence settled between you two.

to be back in a place you grew up in, where all your memories live, is a process—a grieving one. being face-to-face with the damage brought by the infected can only remind you of what you had and could’ve had.

and once you made your way to your childhood room, you were reminded of all your hopes and dreams before the outbreak. dust rested on top of books. the laptop on your desk had no charge. potted plants have withered.

when you approached the picture frames found on your table, your hand darted out to a photograph of you and hyunjae. there was no occasion when that picture was taken—the fact that you two were together was enough for it to be remembered. memorialized.

as you made your way back down the stairs, you saw jacob crouched in front of the console table with eyes. trained on photographs. “was this your high school graduation?” you approached him and saw the picture he was referring to, you who stood beside hyunjae with a big grin as his lips were on your temple.

“yeah,” you said as you crouched beside jacob. “we knew each other back when i was a freshman.” your fingers trailed on the wooden frame, gathering the dust before flicking it away. despite your efforts, it was still covered in grime, but you didn’t mind.

“and you stayed together since?” all you did was hum. “did you find anything up there?”

for the first time since you entered your old house, you looked at jacob and he met your gaze. your eyes trailed his features. the eyes that speak of a thousand words. the lips that once kissed yours.

and it hit you like the gunshot that filled your ears, the breeze that rustled the leaves that one night, the doors that shut close. it was 20 months since the outbreak happened, 13 months since you lost hyunjae, and 11 months since changmin told you his last words—but it was also 13 months spent with jacob, choosing to survive with him.

“yeah.”

you found a lot of things within those four walls. there were books you once read growing up, stuffed toys you slept with, and the one picture of you and hyunjae; they’re the remaining pieces you have left of a life that was good.

you would’ve kept it all, rebuilt the life that was ripped away by the hands of the infected—

“but nothing to hold on to.”

they’re memories, ones you’ll carry with you, but ones worth moving on from.

“oh,” he said as his eyes still held your gaze. “okay.”

and with one exhale, you said, “let’s rebuild it, just a place for us two.”

it was a whirlwind of emotions in jacob’s eyes, ones you can’t identify. for a moment, you thought he’d say no. maybe he decided that 13 months was enough. one more day with you would be too much, and—

“okay.” when his hand reached out for yours, linking fingers with you like all other times, you gave him a small smile.

when you and jacob stood up, you made your way out of the house, off to find a place just for you two—a safe haven to last you many tomorrows with him.

a month passed. the safe haven was rebuilt; the fences stood strong with electrical wires and barbed wires, and the town was cleaned of all remnants of grime and blood. the two of you took up different tasks ranging from cleaning, cooking, building, and maintaining the haven.

but while you were okay with a knife, accidents did happen. “fuck!”

“what happened?” you remember how jacob came rushing in, only to see you pressing on the skin around the cut on your finger.

before you knew it, you were sitting down with him as he wrapped gauze around the wound. “jacob, it’s just a cut. i’ll be fine.”

“still, i don’t want you getting hurt.” you watched how his eyes were focused on treating your finger. “i’ll be in charge of cooking now.”

you shook your head. “no, i like to cook. i want to cook for us.” his gaze then met yours, his filled with worry while yours filled with determination. they flickered back to your finger, and his hands busied themselves with covering it up.

once he was done, his hand continued to hold yours. you remember the heat of his thumb as it drew patterns on your hand. he’s etched himself onto you.

his eyes met yours once more, and he said, “okay, just let me help out.” all you gave him was a nod.

another month went by, and you woke up to the sound of gunshots. you remember how hazy your vision was that night, fresh from sleep but panic coursing through your veins. and when you looked beside you to only see an empty spot, you didn’t think twice about rushing out of bed.

when you exited the house, you saw jacob holding his gun, firing at the people who attempted to tear down the haven’s fences. “jacob!” when he looked back at you, you caught sight of the crimson that poured out of his abdomen.

another gunshot was fired, grazing jacob’s leg, and he fell to his knees. you ran to him, reaching out to rest your hand on the wound as you began to sob. “fuck! you have to stay with me.” with his arm resting around your shoulders, you dragged him back to the house.

you set him on the table and moved his hand to hold where he was shot. “hold it.” you rushed to where the medical supplies were stored and gathered whatever you could hold. when you got back, you saw how blood continued to spill out.

you got to work, focused on trying to patch him up—making sure he stays. “you can’t go. i won’t let it happen.” and while your hands busied themselves with treating the injury, you remember how jacob’s hand caressed your cheek, thumb wiping away the spilled tears.

“in the basement, there’s a piece of paper that has all the codes. if you ever—”

“no, you’ll be okay.”

still, he continued to talk. “if you ever forget the codes, you can always look at the paper. don’t forget that you need to always check the water system every two days, and—”

“jacob!” you croaked out his name in between sobs. “you’ll be okay. you have to, okay?” the more he went on about what to keep in mind, the baggage got heavier. “i can’t do this without you. i won’t allow it.”

because 15 months ago, you would’ve bid farewell to the mayhem. 13 months ago, you hoped for time to drag you away. 12 months ago, you would’ve walked into the forest. but it’s been 22 months, and you were still walking on this earth, choosing to live amidst the chaos—so long as jacob was with you.

and when you leaned your forehead on his, eyes closed, you felt his breath graze against your lips. “i need you.”

all it took were three words from you. “okay.”

it’s been two months since that happened. the safe haven was rebuilt once more. you and jacob fortified the defense system, hoping they’ll be enough to keep any infected and raiders out. all that matters is that you two were protected—safe—from the chaos.

now, you sit on a couch as you flip through the pages of a book you didn’t have time to read before the outbreak. when all responsibilities vanished, you were able to find enough time to do things you couldn’t do then.

you were ready to get yourself sucked into the world of the novel, but jacob came into the living room with his hands behind his back and a small smile on his lips. “do you remember what you made me promise you before?”

you frown at him, confused, until he shows you an acoustic guitar. “oh my god, you found one?” you put the book on the coffee table.

he takes a seat beside you, body facing towards you as he rests the instrument on his lap. “here, first-row tickets to my first show.” you almost laughed because this is no stadium or club, but a home—one you built with him.

it takes only one smile from him for you to hold it back.

“any song requests?” he strums on the guitar strings, perfectly in tune. it’s almost as if he tuned it before coming to you.

a hum leaves you as you rest your head on your hand propped on the couch. “whatever you want to show me.”

it takes him a few seconds, fingers fiddling with the strings, until he figures out what to play. when he sings out the words—dearest, darling, my universe—you melt like the candles you lit up those nights. as he continues to play a song of a world in hysteria but a love that endures, that’s when you realize what you’ve had all this time.

time is the one thing that occupies your mind. it holds value, something that shouldn’t be wasted, and you learned to revolve your life around it.

it takes you two years to figure out that life doesn’t end after the outbreak—and 17 months to realize that your safe haven is not a two-story house with an orange tree in the garden but the boy in front of you.

when you lean closer to him, his fingers falter, messing up the chords. your hand reaches out to caress his face as your eyes flicker to his lips. you don’t miss how jacob holds his breath, how he stops playing the guitar, how his eyes look back at yours—it’s a slurry of warmth, tenderness.

“i love you.”

all it took was a three-word phrase from you for him to close the distance.

the warmth that spreads within you is like the one you experience in the abandoned cabin. but now, you’re full of hope—a reason to stay—in an infected-ridden world.

now, only one question echoes within your mind: how much longer do we have?

an eternity is what you hope.

perma taglist ➵ @deoboyznet @kflixnet @blankjournal @winterchimez @miusgirl @jenoscafe @sweet-unicorn-world @vernyangel @mosviqu @stealanity @deobi0412 @blue-rainydays @maessseongs

#works of moni #deoboyznet #kflixnet #bjnet #k-labels #the boyz #jacob bae #the boyz x reader #jacob bae x reader #the boyz fluff #the boyz angst #jacob bae angst #jacob bae fluff #lee hyunjae #lee hyunjae x reader #lee hyunjae angst #lee hyunjae fluff

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123puppy · 10 months ago

Text

(Im)proper Meeting Part 2

Fandom: Hazbin Hotel

Characters: Angel Dust, Lucifer Morningstar

Lee!Lucifer Ler!Angel Dust

Note: Now it makes sense to add tickling.

Update 2/17/24: I might add/fix this up at some point. I always was impatient writing these particular parts because I like to get to the fun parts. I'll try to keep in as much as possible, I just need to 'polish' some of it so I can stop thinking about this like I made a mess of a fic XD

---

Lucifer felt very comfortable this morning. Not that he's not ever comfortable, but his pillows are extra soft today and he slept through the night without waking up and possibly never going to sleep from restlessness or nightmares. Maybe both.

He did not wake up, once.

And he didn't want to start now, nuzzling his cheek into the pillow and smacking his lips.

A sharp intake of breath makes him freeze. Since when can his pillow breathe? He forces his eyes open and is greeted by white instead of red. He doesn't have a white pillow.

Lucifer reluctantly detaches his face from the fluffy white cushion to get a better look at what he's holding.

"Mornin', cutie" Angel mewls.

Who in hell's name is this!? How did this sinner end up in his bed!??? Did they-?

"WhaaaAHHH! WHO ARE YOU WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE, IN MY BED? OH MY GOD WE DIDN'T DO ANYTHING DID WE? HOLY SHIT HOLY SHIT HOLY S-Mmph!"

One hand is placed over Lucifer's mouth while the lower set of hands cup his rosey cheeks, guiding his face towards Angel, eyes blown wide in his panic

"Deep breaths, doll." Angel's breaths are exaggerated as he stares into the smaller man's eyes. Lucifer follows his breathing, and though it took a few minutes, he began to settle down. His body is still suffering the aftershocks, frame trembling as he continues to stare at Angel Dust with severe unease.

"First things first, we didn't fuck so you can rest easy," THAT got Lucifer to breathe properly and sag all the way down on the bed like a puddle. Angel snickers, "Second, you can be pretty convincing to get someone into bed with you just by being adorable. Very cuddlebug material."

Lucifer covers his face in shame, ears flushed. " I am so sorry, I shouldn't have forced you like that, I never sh-ack! Hehey!" The shorter male yelps as his side gets a sharp poke, immediately throwing his hands down to shove the appendage away.

Angel noticed the reaction but needed to focus on important matters."Ya' didn't do no such thing. I jus' couldn' say no to a precious face like this~" He grasps Lucifer's cheeks and squeezes them. The blush returns full force and the man squirms in his hold. "And I got to sleep in the most comfortable bed with the softest sheets to boot, so it's a win-win on both parties, baby!"

Lucifer grumbles and Angel can see the remnants of sadness from last night shimmer in his eyes. The Porn Star frowns, then remembers what he did earlier and grins.

"Ya know, I can't help but notice how jumpy you were when I got you on ya' side." He sees the panic in the King's eyes and his grin widens.

"Y-You startled me is all!" Lucifer pulls away from Angel's hands. He doesn't look the sinner in the eyes, fidgeting. "I...," He swallows, "... haven't been in physical contact in a long time. I mean, uh... I-I..." He mumbles and Angel leans forward.

"What's that?"

Lucifer goes red again. He just can't stop blushing today! "I'm sensitive okay? Its been so long, I'm not used to touch."

Angel looks at Lucifer with a soft smile. "Well, maybe I can help with that."

Lucifer's eyes widen. "I-I don't think that's necessary."

"Not what you're thinkin', hun." Angel chuckles, edging closer to the nervous fallen angel. His smile turns mischievous. "This is 100% vanilla."

"What do you me-" Angel's top set of hands scuttle along Lucifer's sides. "Wait waitwaitwaitwaitwaihahahait!"

"Ohhh so the King of Hell is ticklish." Angel creeps his nails up higher and pokes at each individual rib, causing the shorter male to curl forward, trying to cover himself. "Ah ah ahhh," Angel's bottom set of hands find their way to Lucifer's exposed hips and presses the pads of his thumbs against the soft thin skin. The shrill laughter that comes out is almost enough to stop the assault as Lucifer jerks at the sensation, bucking and thrashing on the sheets.

"Ohohoho my gAHahahahahad nohohohoho I cahahan't!"

"Already tappin' out?" Angel lightens his touch and brings out his third set of arms. He uses his top set to grab Lucifer's flailing arms and presses them above his head. The middle set of arms gently drag up his sides, pushing up Lucifer's shirt. The shorter male seized at the feather light touch to his sensitive skin and squeaks with each nail that drew patterns at the sides of his tummy.

"Dohohon't!" He wiggles around and cries out when Angel teases his belly button, drawing circles around it. "STAHAHAP!" He squeaks out, unable to keep the desperation from his voice, cheeks pink and eyes popping wide open.

"Don't stop?" Angel cooes, "So you like it when I dooo this?"

A shriek emits from Lucifer when Angel plunges his finger in his navel, wiggling rapidly. Pin prick tears appear at the corners of Lucifer's eyes, back arched as he kicks a pillow across the room. "NO!" He did not like that, he wanted to yell that out too to get his point across but squeaky laughter is all he can muster as he bucks and kicks about.

"Okay, okay I'll go back to this then." The wiggling stops and Lucifer drops on the mattress with a whine "That betta'?" The smugness in his tone has Lucifer thinking about setting the archnid on fire if he had enough mind to concentrate without that damn finger sending him into panicked fits of giggles.

"NohohoHOHO!" The King cries out.

"You gotta make up ya' mind," Lucifer hiccups before a shriek comes out when Angel wiggles his finger again.

It felt like an eternity to Lucifer before his laughter goes silent. That's when Angel slows his assault, removing his finger from the bright pink area all around Lucifer's navel, pretty much petting Lucifer's belly. Which is miles better than what he endured a moment ago.

He doesn't know how long it's been but he's not going to complain getting free belly rubs. He should tell the sinner to stop and leave his room this instant, but his tongue proceeds to poke out between his upturned lips in a form of contentment. He was a weak man to receiving affection.

"Holy shit," The Porn Star places a hand over his mouth, unable to contain the starstruck look on his face at the King of Hell practically melting under his touch. He's released Lucifer's arm a while ago, but the smaller man never moved them from where they've been pinned. He's practically stretched out, welcoming every bit of attention he got. It isn't long until a strange rumbling sound draws Angel's attention. He felt it, in the King's chest where one of his hands lay. It could be him just hearing things but his fingers are vibrating where they rest. He is! The King is... purring!?!?

Angel stops altogether, stunned as Lucifer's stirs from his trance, face pink from exertion, hair stuck out in all directions from tossing and turning in his laughter induced state.

Lucifer peels his eyes open and tries to glare at the Spider Demon, but he's too relaxed to work his best growl that comes out to be a whine.

Angel snickers, "Is that your way of asking for more, shortcakes?"

"..."

"Oh my God, you're too precious-"

"Shut. Up."

#hazbin hotel tickle #hazbin hotel #lee!lucifer #ler!angeldust #my writing #writers on tumblr #sfw tickle #tickling

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2demondogs · 4 months ago

Note

Omg hi (I’m the person who asked for the secret relationship Hosea thing) if u write a one shot for that I will forever be in ur debt

-👁️👁️

I'm SO sorry this took a second, I've been busy and sick this week so I've finished up a few other things I already had close to done but not much else. Here's the headcanons for those new to the saga.

Tags: Fluff, flirting, threats of violence, low honor Hosea moments, low honor reader moments, gender-neutral reader Words: 2.6k

You are meticulous about planning these get-togethers with Hosea - with the nature of your relationship and your identities, it leaves few methods of search if something goes unaccording to plan.

Hooking your hat's chin-strap around the holster at your hip, you'd inquired the innkeeper at Van Horn about Hosea. Of course, he'd only be known by the name he'd told you he'd use: some Alfred von Lafair or other, which you'd taunted him for.

Alfred is so terrible besides such a delicate surname, you'd said, and he'd simply replied Alfred's parents were terrible, in a thick accent so unlike himself that it made you burst at the sides.

None of that humor was to be found behind door 2A. His greeting was an unceremonious revolver in your face and a trailed off bark of a demand for identification. The barrel quickly lowered once he took in the general outline of you beyond his raised hand. It's an inopportune time, judging by the expression of an oncoming lecturing that's lining his lips, to feel your stomach flutter.

A millisecond is all it takes him to recognize you?

"Goddamn you," Hosea greets, a hand ghosting over your wrist to pull you inside. He locks the door behind you as you step further in to look around. "Van Horn? You've got to be mad."

"How long have you been here?" You ask, passing over the mixture of less-than-gentle disappointment and concern in his tone as you pass by him. The bed is messed with sleep, and you wonder if he got in this morning or...

"Yesterday."

You raise a brow at him. "I told you I'd be out until today's afternoon." He seems to relax some when your fingers come to his elbow, loosely cupping it. Even without the often indulgences of cookie-cutter lovers, it's so easy to exchange these touches in privacy. "Did you lose track of-?"

"It's Van Horn, darlin'," Hosea says, voice hushed but strong. He's stepping closer so that your arm might wring around his waist, relaxes some of the tension in his legs when you do and sinks down an inch. "Haven't you heard Arthur talk about gettin' stuck up in his own room at this very hotel?" He shakes his head. "Not even a reason to it. Just because."

"So you'd rather you get stuck up without me?" You ask, feigning insult. The slight twinkle in his eye tells you he understands immediately what you're taunting. "You think I need your saving that badly?"

"I love to save you," he says, tone lightening considerably. "Rest easy that there's no good reason for it, neither."

After a shared look, a chaste passing of lips on his stubbled cheek; you begin to feel guilty. The book on the nightstand says a modest amount, the slow blinks of his fatigue-lidded brown eyes say more, and both lead you to the conclusion that Hosea hasn't slept a wink.

You don't blame him. You also never asked him to try getting any shut eye here, either, quality or not.

"I don't know how you'd sleep the night here," you say, a less direct way to admit that you know he's tired from worrying himself all evening. "Let's get you out of here, damsel."

You meet his eyes in the full-length mirror tucked in the corner of the room, his smile soft in the cracked and smeared glass. The bottom half is missing in a suspiciously familiar fractal pattern. A gunshot. Oh, in another life, you might've enjoyed sprouting roots here. Nowadays, you know the visitors' kinds all too well to trust bedding down anywhere close.

"I reckon that's a good idea."

The ride to Saint Dennis is long, but the air in Annesburg clogs Hosea's lungs too much. It isn't as though more time spent on your lonesomes is unwelcome, either.

Along the ride you speak of the job you'd been on: in Annesburg, coincidentally, where you'd pilfered a pocket watch from the pool of men in a deviant poker run, a gift to offer to Hosea. Your fingers linger on each other as it passes hands. Silver with gold settings around the lip of the watch casing, you thought it was a nice match for your man. Silver and gold, so often put together in words, can be so controversial in practice.

You felt like a cat bringing home a dead mouse; it was offered with the same reverence.

The fond feeling grows bigger when you remember the entire point of this "job" was to rob the money for a nice hotel room to share with him. Preferably, one in a town with more straight-cut mutton shunters and a bathhouse that locks. The job nearly gotten your ear cut off, too. Fellers around mining towns never can help but mind each other's business.

A symptom of the rural condition, one that camp is also afflicted with. It's what drives you two away to convene in the shadows of bar rooms and groves.

For the rundown look of Van Horn and all the troubles in the town northways, the nature surrounding them is some of your favorite. Empty, besides easy-target homesteads which may sway your favor some, and quiet. Traffic to and fro along the trails is manageable to watch for danger, yet enough to stimulate.

A comfortable silence befalls you two as your trot your horses alongside the Lannahechee River, intending to follow it down to Saint Dennis' edge. It's somewhat longer of a way, but the water is clear today and the sky is, too.

As with all your thoughts, you begin running this fondness off to Hosea, who watches you more than he watches the trail. It is often you feel studied by people, either distrustfully or seekingly, but Hosea's gaze is steady and near empty beyond that ineffable softness in it.

There's nothing in his mind, it seems, besides you and what you inspire in him.

You pull down your hat and look at the road instead of him. If he asks, you'll say Silver Dollar has to have someone in their right mind to follow.

He's admitted he likes when you deflect with humor. The thought makes your face burn more. Why do you tell him so damn much? Maybe it's self-sabotage, some urge to make his favorite game of playing inconspicuous in camp more thrilling for him and harder for you.

Somewhere beneath all the need for posturing, you know it's as simple as: you're too sweet on him.

It takes only twenty-to-the-hour for the itch of a conman to hit you both. Van Horn's lack of security is enticing for many more reasons than it is worrying, at least to your action-orientated mind. Hosea has no qualms about the plan beginning to gain breath, once you are out of gang-up distance. The violence you stir up reminds him of his days with Dutch, and you know he thinks of those days well enough to take it as a sincere, meaningful thought.

You make him feel young again.

Both of you are aware of who really looks it, though. Stopped by the river, gathering water for your flasks, you solidify reviving one of your first partnered schemes: the injured Silver Dollar and you, his young, apparently clueless rider. Hosea has always insisted your pleading expressions are impossible to resist.

So far, his words've been true.

Silver Dollar has played the game enough times to know what Hosea's commands of play hurt mean, to know why you're suddenly so close to him instead of keeping your usual distance. Your own horse is intelligent, but Silver seems to have a mind that works as fast and distrusting as his keeper's. He maintains his distance around anyone but his most affectionated, and the proximity of the stranger you will lure into your trap won't ease him any. Hosea will offer him much doting for the genuine discomfort that always helps sell your plots.

Beneath the shade of a large tree, the steed's hefty head resting with some unease in your lap as he lays on his side, Silver takes solace in your hand stroking his cheek.

You avoid his muzzle, already dislike having it against your thigh. There's a mutual understanding here, a comradery in trusting the man who lays in wait behind the bushes across the trail, behind the bandana tied around his jaw and the hat drawn low on his forehead; but you know animals are not ones to practice social graces. They bite when they bite, thwunk their faces into your gut as they please. (It has happened twice before, and Silver's strong neck made it hurt like Hell.)

Some yards off the river for cover from the opposing bank's fishermen and riders, this requires fast work. The risk is high, anyways.

Relying on the first rider to pass you by, the first interested rider, always is a rough bet. Once or twice, it's been a lawman, and you've had to double down on your supposed lack of intellect with horses, had to hope Silver could see inside your head for long enough to pretend his ankle really was twisted. Hosea still made off with most of the deputy's saddlebag.

Your victim today is a man that eyes you with much less than weariness, despite the clearly empty satchel hooked around your body.

"Sir," you call, dragging your pitch a few notches higher. "Can you help my boy here? I think he mighta hurt his leg on the road."

He does help your boy.

The stranger is no doubt strong enough to throw Hosea off, hands thick enough to twist his wrist where it is pressed to the dip between his shoulder and chest, clipped fingernails biting into his arm through his shirt - but the man must not know what direction he was headed, for it appears all the force leaves his knees as Hosea's hunting knife presses into the vulnerable flesh of his exposed throat, the threatening outline of a holstered Cattleman held to the back of his hip.

He begins babbling, voice cracking pitifully, and Hosea barks a short: "Can it or I'll can it for you."

His voice is commanding, dark. You know he doesn't mind these more violent stunts despite his preference for quieter pickpockets and more humble cons, but ruthless is such a lovely look on him.

You have to refocus yourself to jump out of your kneel besides Silver, who raises after. Hosea jolts the man as you come closer, procures a shriek that in turns earn a nudge with the blade. Transferring his holsters into your satchel goes on with practiced ease. It fills the bag well: two guns, bullets for both, and a quick frisk earns you a knife at the expense of yanking up his pants legs.

After a short back-and-forth, Hosea's knife-edge running over his shivering Adam's apple as if in tenderness, you shake the feeling it gives you to approach his horse and empty his saddlebag.

Not entirely heartless and knowing Hosea is merely playing with the feller's nerves, you leave him the food he rode with and his bedroll. After the handful of cash you found tucked into a leather wallet beneath the cans, you ought to have a mighty fine dinner as it is.

Camp, and provisions for camp, are the furthest things from your mind. They do not reach it even after Hosea releases the man, whose knees are so weak it becomes clear his captor was the only thing keeping him upright.

"Damn scared, he was," Hosea chuckles, his bandana-dampened laugh almost too quiet to hear over the pounding of hooves and spray of dirt behind your horses.

Waiting until it's safe to lower into a more moderate pace, you inhale sharply. The adrenaline is not left but diminished, and it feels as though you were running alongside your horse rather than sat on it.

"I bet he was a rich man," you say, slurring the last word as one: richman, the way people say Irishman or Dutchman. It's a habit you picked up from Dutch in your time with the gang. "Couldn't use that knife if he wanted to."

He huffs a laugh as he pulls down the cloth over his nose. "Utterly useless," he agrees, adjusting his hat as the sun falls behind you two. "Wouldn't stop shaking."

You smile to yourself, trying to formulate the right phrasing of your thoughts. It's always difficult to find what side of your tongue will make Hosea go quiet in the way he does, as if contemplating the very same thing you are now: a clever reply.

You might be the only person to ever make Hosea Matthews think about his witty words. Maybe it's the fact they have to be thought on in camp, where you usually find yourselves crossing paths and restrained from real, off-the-cuff expressions of interest; maybe - and this one's your preference - you trip him up like no one else.

"I'd be shaking, too, if such a handsome outlaw w's holding me like that," you say.

You slide your eyes to glance at him, wondering if the pink skin along his ears and neck is your own work or the sun's. He rubs at the warm patch beneath his nape, lifting his hat momentarily to run a hand through his hair. As the shadow runs up his face, you can see his mouth pulled into a grin.

"Whew," he says, finally, and you snicker. "I don't know if that filth can count as sweet talkin' or not."

"Oh, c'mon," you reply. "I've said much worse."

"You're right. I ought to stick you up for stealin' the last of my purity."

"Not your heart?"

"Naw," he says. "You took that sorry thing a long time ago."

By the time you've reached Saint Dennis and paid for a room above the saloon, the hot food in your bellies and the settled sun has run your energy out. Boots drag to the room, Hosea lights the oil lamp at the bedside, and you half-undress for slumber before laying yourself out on the mattress.

Hosea is, as always, more thorough and slow in doing so. You watch him despite your sleepiness. He has your satchel to peruse, too, muttering about not being focused on what you were stealing during your little game. You tease him more, ask if he likes an outlaw as well as you do. He only grins to himself and squints to read the inscription on the man's knife, lips moving in the shape of a psalm.

Outside the curtained window, small with thin oak beams supporting the glass inside it, the sky is darker than dark. It draws long shadows over the two of you, Hosea's lined face sharper for the light.

Ten minutes pass. "Gonna lay down, handsome?"

Even in the deep yellow tinge of the lamp, you can see his cheeks rouge. "Gonna make me any room, sweet thing?"

"Ain't nothin' good in this life for free," you taunt half-heartedly.

He looks you up and down, as if deciding what to do with you. Right now, sleep is more desirable than anyone could hope to be, even one another, and his gaze is merely mischievous.

You find yourself laughing as he hauls you up the bed as far your head will allow, grunting with the effort after a long day of manhandling. He settles between your legs, then, head nestled into your stomach as his arms curl around one of your thighs. Hosea may as well purr when you scratch your nails over the hair that sprouts at his temple, tracing them along the curve of his skull, picking gently at where strands tangle together from wind and sweat.

"Tomorrow," he promises, voice low and slow. "We can play your round of dames and robbers."

Your eyes have fallen closed, muscles beginning to protest the repetitive movement of stroking his hair; you rest your palm atop his head as you chuckle. "Sure thing, Hoss."

#rdr2 #hosea matthews x reader #hosea matthews #sfw #oneshot #red dead redemption 2 #gender neutral reader #neutralreader #hoseamatthews #fluff #secret relationship #request #rdr2 fanfic #I'm normal. I enjoy normal ideas and concepts.

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ravings-of-a-mad-scientist · 2 months ago

Note

I think there is something of a story that could be made out of tech no longer being supported by the tech is life supporting

You know what? YES! There is a story to be made out of tech no longer being supported even though it's life supporting! My fuckin emails!

I used to use Windows' default mail app, which sucked. It couldn't work with custom email addresses and was generally janky, but you know what? It was my janky default mail app, because I was too lazy to change it to a better one. Just like with every other default app included with Windows 10 (which I still use even though they came out with a Windows 11 (even though they said they'd never do that (fuckin tryhards)))

But then Windows was all like

"mail app will no longer be supported, please switch to Outlook, bleh".

And that's when my alarm bells started ringing. I knew shit was going down hill. First they took Flash, and now they're after my fuckin MAIL?!? Is nothing sacred???

And what's worse, they had the gall to make *me* do something, and accept change, when I'd much rather be embracing stagnancy. What? Are we too good for the bare minimum all of a sudden?

But, I also knew the deadline was like six months away, so I didn't do shit and forgot about it. Because I have a heavy prescription for A.D.D., a mental disorder which makes it difficult to not put things off until the last minute since I can't think in scales longer than about six days. I am heavily dependant on my calendar app to tell me when to do stuff.

But then it happened. Six entire months had passed, and I finally had to change to Outlook. That made my afternoon a SLIGHTLY more stressful and busy than it'd have normally been, the bastards

But, you know what? There's no point getting angry over that. I think I might have just been too complacent with my old shitty default mail app all that time, and was too lazy and had too many dysfunctioning executives to look for better options. I might never have known what other mail apps could be like until someone gave me that little push. There really is a lesson to be learned here. 😔

And you know what that lesson is?

DON'T EVER FUKIN TRUST WINDOWS! BECAUSE OUTLOOK IS WAY SHITTER AND JANKIER THAN MAIL APP! WHY DID THEY MAKE ME SWITCH TO IT???

It takes forever to open, it also fucked the calendar app because apparently those can't be separate windows anymore so I had to spend like 20 minutes fixing it, then it fucked my wife, and just today it refused to open at all because it FALSELY believed it was already open.

I ended up having to restart my entire ass computer, WITH A FORCED WINDOWS UPDATE, giving me plenty of time to write this post. Haven't slept in 42 hours btw (unrelated). Then Outlook decided to log me out, so I had to find my password to sign back in. Meanwhile, I couldn't do any work because the only thing I needed to do was see my goddamned emails! So I finally get in, and I discovered that apparently that Windows update was updating Outlook, because I had to tell them that NO, I DON'T WANT MY DATA HARVESTED.

All this and for what? Fashionable looking UI design? Compatibility with email handles that don't end with @gmail.com?

What do I look like, some kinda jackass who owns multiple alternate email addresses with custom domains? Custom domains that I've been using an entirely separate web based email service to check since the old mail app wouldn't let me open them, but I was just too lazy to switch over to completely for my primary work and school gmails? Do I look like someone who bought [email protected] thinking that somehow a *mailing list* would make me INTERNET FAMOUS?

Because yes, I am and I did do that. But you know what? I STILL do all that because I haven't gotten around to putting those emails into Outlook!

YOUR FORCED EMAIL SERVICE MIGRATION ACHIEVED NOTHING! SUCK IT BILL GATES!

#ADHD #spilled thoughts #windows #rant #technology #mad scientist #emails #outlook #asks #if you email that email i will probably never respond because i don't check it anymore

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ginax0916 · 1 year ago

Text

𝐁𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐁𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐅𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝

𝐀𝐧𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧 𝐒𝐤𝐲𝐰𝐚𝐥𝐤𝐞𝐫 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝟏.𝟕𝐤 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬

*𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐬 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐧 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝 𝐬𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐛𝐞 𝐧𝐨𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐥 𝐭𝐞𝐞𝐧𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐬, 𝐧𝐨 𝐉𝐞𝐝𝐢 𝐥𝐨𝐥*

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Y/N POV:

"Y/n I'm home! I brought some food too!" My brother Jack yells from downstairs.

"Ok I'll be down in a sec!" I answer back.

I exit out of Netflix and close my laptop setting it on my bedside table. I put on some slippers and a hoodie as I go downstairs. I see my older brother Jack setting food on the table and walk straight to him.

"How was football practice?" I ask as I sit down next to him talking a sip of water.

"It was alright, Anakin wasn't there today so it was boring honestly" Jack frowns while taking a bite out of his food. I simply nod in response and continue to eat.

Don't get me started on Anakin though. He's been my brothers friend since elementary school. And oh boy he's so handsome. He's tall, has fluffy golden hair, ocean blue eyes, strong and so much more. He's basically the dream description of a guy. He's also only one year older since I'm only a year younger than my brother, which really isn't so bad. He stays over a lot so him and I are friends as well. He's just so good looking it makes me mad. He comes over practically everyday and he just makes me so damn nervous sometimes.

"Are you even fucking listening to me y/n?" Jack exclaimed.

"No I'm sorry what'd you say?"

"I said that Anakin just texted me asking if he can sleepover for the weekend because his parents are gonna be out of town. I was asking you if you're ok with it" he asked.

"Oh yea I don't mind" I smile at him, but truth is I do mind. Obviously I'm not gonna tell my brother that because he's gonna ask why and I'm not going to tell him I have a crush on his hot friend. But I really can't avoid him, he's always with my brother.

"Are you sure? You don't seem too convinced" jack questioned.

"Yes it's fine I promise, he's fun to be around anyway" I say back.

"Alright I'm gonna go call him then" and with that he disappeared into his room leaving me alone in the kitchen.

𖢻𐮚᯽𐮚𖢻

It's now Friday, Anakin is supposed to come over today after school to stay over for the weekend. I'm pretty much freaking out and I honestly don't know why. I've been around Anakin so many times plus he's slept over countless times. Although I haven't seen him in over a month since he's been pretty busy that might be why.

I was snapped out of my thoughts by the doorbell ringing.

"It's Anakin open the the door please y/n!" Jack yelled.

"Ok ok calm down I'm going" I yelled back.

I swung the door open and oh fuck. It's only been a month and he seems taller and stronger too. His hair got longer as well and he just looks different. But in a good way.

"Hey Anakin" I smiled stepping aside to let him in.

"Hey y/n" he smiled back.

He set his stuff down on one of the kitchen chairs and turned to look at me. An awkward silence filling the room.

"Uh jack should be down any second" I smiled awkwardly.

"It's fine don't worry" he laughed.

Again the awkward silence. Where the fuck is Jack?

"Hi sorry I was in the bathroom. What's up dude" Jack dabbed Anakin up.

I walked to the other side of the counter and grabbed a soda from the fridge while they were both doing their little catch up talk. But as I sipped from the soda I couldn't help but stare at Anakin. He was wearing grey sweatpants and a black hoodie. He looks so good just standing there. He's resting his hand on the counter so you can see all his veins defining his hand. Fuck I shouldn't be thinking like this he's my brothers best friend. But I can't help it I mean who wouldn't fall for him?

I didn't even realize for how long I had been staring at him until he turned to me.

"You ok n/n?" He chuckled.

(n/n = nick name)

"Uh yea I'm fine" I said back feeling my cheeks burn red I quickly looked away hoping neither of them noticed. I'm pretty sure they did though. At least Anakin probably did.

"Alright we'll be in my room if you need anything." Jack said as they walked away.

I hummed in response as I sat down in the living room couch. But when I looked up I was met with Anakins gaze looking at me from over his shoulder as he followed Jack up the stairs. I blushed and slightly smiled, he smirked in response.

What is this man doing to me.

꧁✯꧂

It's almost 3 am right now and I can't fucking sleep. I've been tossing and turning for hours and I can't fall asleep. I've tried everything like counting sheep, reading, going on my phone, even listing to white noise but nothing is working. So now I've just decided to go downstairs and get something to drink.

I opened the door to my room and heard some noise downstairs as I walked down the stairs. I'm not thinking much of it though could just be the wind or some shit. I make my way to the kitchen and open the fridge. I decide on just an ice cold water. I close the fridge and jump back in fear when I'm met with Anakin standing there looking at me.

"Hey hey calm down it's just me" Anakin slowly says as he steps closer to me.

"Fuck don't do that you scared me" I say back shaking a bit.

"I'm sorry I didn't mean to" he laughs.

I laughed at him taking a sip of the water and setting it down on the counter next to me. He stared intensely at me, his gaze making me nervous. I couldn't take it anymore so I turned around.

"Don't look at me like that" I giggled, my cheeks tinted pink.

"Look at you like what?" He grabbed my waist and turned me around so I was facing him again, making butterflies erupt in my stomach. I didn't respond though I was too nervous to even breathe.

"Hmm? Come on answer me" Anakin gently spoke as his hands still rested on my hips.

"I don't know how to explain it" I said very quietly looking down to the ground unable to hold eye contact with him.

"It's funny when you get all shy and nervous" He laughed quietly as he gently grabbed my chin making me look at him again.

I simply smiled at him while looking into his beautiful eyes that glowed with the little light that there was. I then reached my hands up to play with his soft hair which had gotten so much softer.

"Your hair got longer" I quietly said being careful not to wake up my brother.

"It did yea, should I cut it?" Anakin asked as he stared into my eyes.

"No don't I like it" I entangled my fingers into his hair rubbing his scalp making him close his eyes and ease into my touch.

"Does that feel good?" I laughed teasing him.

"Shut up" Anakin smiled.

Anakin pulled me closer to him by my hips and held me closer. My hands still playing with his hair. I looked into his eyes, then down to his lips unable to keep my eyes off of him. His lips look so soft and pink and fuck I just want to kiss him.

We inch closer and closer together. Anakin thinks I didn't notice but he's been staring at my lips the whole time too. I have to kiss him I have to. It's not that I want to anymore it's that I need to. So fuck it.

I lean in crashing my lips against his. Chills go up my back as adrenaline rushes through my body and the butterflies in my stomach go crazy. Anakin immediately kisses back cupping one side of my face with his big hand. I also move of my hands that was in his hair to cup his cheek rubbing his cheekbone while doing so.

Anakins POV:

She finally kissed me. I've been waiting for this moment for so damn long. I've just never had the courage to do it myself.

Our lips moved in sync, connecting with each other like puzzle pieces. She currently had one of her hands cupping my cheek and the other was rubbing my head which felt so fucking good. I had one of my hands on her hip and the other on the side of her face too. But I could feel her knees wanting to give out on her any second since she was leaning most of her weight onto me.

"Jump" I mumbled as I brought both my hands down to her ass giving it a small squeeze indicating her to jump. And so she did, then continuing to make out with me.

She straddled my waist with her arms wrapped around my neck. I carried her to the couch and sat down with her still straddling me. Y/n then looked up at me resting her forehead on mine, her pretty eyes staring right into mine.

"I can't believe we did that" she quietly laughed.

"I liked it though" I said back unsure of what she would respond.

"I did too" she smiled.

She yawned and I kissed her cheek and hugged her while smiling. Y/n hid her face in the crook of my neck getting comfortable in my embrace. I kissed her temple and rubbed soft circles on her back.

"What if my brother finds us here?" Y/n asked nervously, still laying on my chest.

"Don't worry about that right now ok? We'll figure it out" I softly said while playing with her hair.

Y/N POV:

"Don't worry about that right now ok? We'll figure it out" Anakin said while playing my hair.

I simple nodded in response and lifted my head up to peck him on the lips. He smiled into the kiss making those butterflies in my stomach go crazy again. I then got off from on top him and instead cuddled into his side, my head on his chest and my arms wrapped around his body. Anakin pulled me closer to him and rested his cheek on my head.

And with that I fell asleep cuddling with my brothers best friend.

❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎

A/N: idk how I feel about this one honestly I feel like it was too boring :/

#anakin skywalker #star wars #anakin skywalker x you #anakin x reader #the skywalker saga #y/n #ani skywalker

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