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pascalpanic · 3 years

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Caffeine Rush: Chapter Seven / Decaf

W/C: 4k

Warnings: language, dirty thoughts, all of the dirty thoughts because Javi is a horndog, male masturbation... general spice. pining that could make a pine cone tremble.

A/N: welcome to pining central, enjoy your stay :) (ps when Steve says “Javier Peña” I need you to read that in the voice of Anthony Mackie going “SEBASTIAN STAN”)

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ordinary coffee that has had most of its caffeine removed from it before the beans are roasted.

You are a goddamn test on Javier’s self control. He feels like those biblical stories of men fighting back against temptation to prove themselves to God, except the only thing he has to prove is to himself. To you.

He’s always been enraptured by you, captivated by your smile and laugh but since you went ice skating, he hasn’t been able to get your body out of his mind. The way you fell asleep on him last night, nuzzled in like it was the safest place on earth. He could feel your breasts press into his skin, the warmth of your thigh hiked across his abdomen. If the past week has been some caffeine-induced fever dream, it’s becoming real now. You, a figment of his imagination before, maybe, are all flesh and blood and God, is he desperate for it.

Javier hangs around your apartment when you’re gone at work. He doesn’t have much else to do, considering you’re gone and he knows hardly anything about the city. He watches the daytime television on your couch, usually meanders to the coffee shop for a drink, spends some time there, and returns to the apartment.

He feels like he’s couch-surfing, like he did for a summer in his college years. He feels guilty occupying the space in your home, especially without payment. As he walks to the bathroom, he takes a long glance into your bedroom. The queen-sized bed is mussed, unmade before you left for work. The fitted sheet is pooled in the middle beneath where you sleep, the various blankets tossed about. It looks like the coziest damn thing he’s ever seen, especially after a couple of nights on a couch.

Javier almost thinks about giving in, waiting for you to ask him to sleep in your bed tonight then jumping at the chance. Maybe he will, if he’s tired enough. Maybe he won’t, but maybe he will. He can think of nothing better than the endless whir of the radiator as your perpetually-cold body nuzzles against him, brushes your nose against his bare chest.

It’s been a long time since Javi has fucked anyone, and he’s starting to feel it. He’s a little antsy, and the image of your body, your ass as you ice skate past him, haunts him like a bad dream- or rather some illicit fantasy he knows he shouldn’t be having.

Would you want him yet? You’ve told him you love him, but that was an accident. When he kisses you, you kiss back harder. Hell, you initiated the first kiss. You seem like you’ve been all-in on this relationship, taking things at a rushed pace that Javier certainly doesn’t mind. He spends a lot of the day contemplating that, standing on the tiny balcony of your apartment and smoking a couple of cigarettes.

At this point, he needs a distraction or he’s going to have to take matters into his own hands, quite literally. What better to kill the horny buzz making his head spin than to call Murphy?

The phone is in your bedroom, on the nightstand. Javier dares to sit on the edge of your bed, and actually moans aloud at the plush comfort, the way his ass sinks into it. Goddamn, he’ll have to get one of these. He wants nothing more than to lay back and fall into the bed, wait for you to get home and pound you into the comfortable mattress. But he doesn’t. He stays strong and picks up the phone, dialing the new Murphy residence in Miami.

After a couple of rings, a familiar voice answers. “Murphy’s.”

“Hey, bastard,” Javier chuckles, and he can hear the blonde man’s laughter from across the receiver.

“Javier Peña,” Steve drawls, dragging out the name. “Good to hear your voice, man. You finally come out of a ten-day celebratory drunkenness?”

“Don’t talk to me about binges,” Javier teases, but he smiles a little. He’s missed the man. He’s glad neither of them got in any trouble over the entire Los Pepes situation- God, that feels like ages ago now. It’s hard to believe he’s only been in D.C. what, eleven days? If Steve’s math is right, yeah. “No. I’m in D.C. still, if you can believe it. Just… bored.”

“Oh really?” the man scoffs, leaning against his kitchen counter in Miami with Olivia on his hip. “And why’s that? What are you still doin’ up there anyway? Thought you were goin’ to visit the old man.”

Javier shakes his head. “Plans changed. There’s, uh… there’s a girl.”

Steve lets out a wolf whistle, laughing. “And how much does she charge a night?”

“Not one of those. She works at a coffee shop around here,” he informs him. “She’s… she’s really something. Nothing I ever thought I’d be into. She’s gorgeous, man, and so energetic all the damn time. Seems like she has an IV of coffee from her shop,” he chuckles, looking off into space. He takes a pause. Steve doesn’t speak. “I wanna be with her Steve. I don’t… I don’t know if I can go back.”

He’s silent a little longer. “This is some kind of practical joke, right?” Steve says after a beat, barely holding back a laugh. Never has Javier been so sincere, so real and honest and open. And more specifically, he’s never been like this over a girl. Almost… mushy. Soft. “Tell me more,” he says, hoping the joke will give up.

Javier talks about you, describing every little detail with a grin on his face. He tells Steve about Tie Guy and ice skating and your piece of shit car, how you can spin in circles on the ice and how you remind him of a busy little bee, fluttering about the coffee shop.

Steve is genuinely rendered speechless; a hard thing to do. He blinks down at Olivia then straight ahead at the refrigerator, covered in photos and magnets and drawings. He can’t imagine Javier ever wanting something like this, like what he and Connie have, but he sure sounds like it. “That’s… something. Good for you, Javi,” Steve chuckles, resigning to sincerity. “I’m happy for you.”

Javier grumbles back. “Don’t get too happy. I have to go back to Calí in three weeks. She doesn’t want me to leave… I don’t know what to do, Murph. I can’t bring her with, you know that, but I can’t just leave her here. And I sure as hell can’t quit.”

“You could quit.”

“I’m not going to, how’s that?” Javier huffs and crosses his arms, annoyed by Steve and his goddamn wording loopholes. “I just… fuck. I’m gonna go think about it before she gets back.”

“She comin’ to your hotel? You sure you aren’t paying per night?” He smirks.

Javier’s quiet and Steve isn’t sure what it means until he talks. “I’m, uh, staying at her place. She insisted.”

Steve whistles again. “Damn. You’re whipped, Peña. Well, I’ll let you go. Call again soon. I miss ya, bud,” he tells Javier in a moment of earnesty then hangs the phone back on the receiver, bringing Olivia to her nursery to change her diaper.

Javi sighs and falls backwards on the bed, admiring the way the mattress holds his body compared to the couch. Yeah, he’ll definitely need to sleep in here tonight or he’s going to crack his spine.

The issue will be you. He could handle it on the couch; it was like a soft, adolescent form of love, innocent and warm. Of course, it could still be the same in your bed. But would it? Is there not a different set of implications that come with the two of you sharing a bed?

Snuggling with you on the couch was nice. Wonderful, perfect even. Javier loves falling asleep with you in his arms. But in your bed, arms curled around him, maybe even being his little spoon… that perfect body pressed flush to his own, your soft ass against his groin, your breathing pushing back into his chest… that would be an entirely different thing. And he wants it, he really does, but he isn’t sure he’ll be able to control himself.

He slept like shit the last night, to be honest. You on top of him prevented him from moving, and Javier is an active sleeper. His neck was at an odd angle and his back twisted. His body feels like it did after that fight with Tie Guy. He can’t- wouldn’t- invade your privacy of your bed without you home to give him the go ahead, but he’s so damn tired. Not even the coffee helps.

So Javier indulges in one of life’s little pleasures he rarely gets to experience: a nap. Curled up on his side on the couch, blankets pulled snug around his fetal-positioned body, Javier drifts off to the sound of the noon news on the television.

That’s how you find him when you come home. He’s peacefully asleep, his lips parted and mustache moving with his exhales. Well, he’s clearly alive. That’s good.

You’re not sure how long he’s been asleep, so you leave him, making yourself something to eat in the kitchen. You avoid the living room as you get settled in, changing out of your espresso-stained clothing and into something more comfortable.

When you’re all comfy, makeup removed and a warm sweater on, you sit at the other end of the couch. Javier’s curled into a ball, his feet just inches away from your legs. You hope when he moves, he’ll feel you there and wake. If not, oh well. He deserves the rest.

It’s gray and cloudy outside, and you snuggle into the corner of the couch while reading your worn copy of The Great Gatsby. It’s the one you’ve been re-reading recently, what you were reading that first day Javi wandered into your coffee shop and subsequently your life.

Javi wakes not long later, maybe half an hour, to the sound of your book crinkling. The paperback’s spine crunches with wear, and his eyes flutter open to see you tucked against a pillow. God, you look like an angel, the light from the cloudy day filtering in and illuminating you from the back. Your face is calm and peaceful, focused as your eyes trace the words of F. Scott Fitzgerald. “Hi,” Javier mumbles groggily.

Your expression turns to a smile and you set down the book. “Hey.” You take his legs and drape them across your lap, tracing your fingers across them. “How’d you sleep?”

He groans. “Okay. Neck hurts.”

“That wouldn’t be an issue if you’d just sleep with me,” you sing-song to him, stroking his legs through the comfortable pants he wears. “My bed is super cozy.”

God, does Javier know it. It felt like your love itself when he laid down and the warmth of it swallowed him, practically whole. “Maybe I’ll give in,” he sighs, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands. “How was work? Sorry I didn’t visit.”

“Boring as always,” you chuckle. “What did you do today?”

Javi frowns as he thinks about it, his brain fogged with sleep. “Not much. Called Murphy, talked a while. He’s doing good.”

“Good,” you nod and smile. “When will I get to meet this elusive Steve?” You ask, softly kneading at his legs through the blanket and frowning as you realize he’s wearing… jeans. “Wait, pause. Are you seriously wearing jeans?” you ask him and laugh, lifting the blanket to confirm what you already suspected.

He frowns defensively, crossing his arms. “Maybe.”

“Why the fuck would you take a nap in jeans, Javi?” You laugh.

Javier looks away, frowning. The stubbornness shows. “I don’t own many comfortable clothes besides what I wear to work, if you haven’t noticed,” he retorts, but you can’t help but giggle. “Plus I thought I’d only be here to get fired.”

You smile at him lovingly and cup his face. “You sweet, stupid workaholic. Let’s go shopping later, get you some cozy stuff.”

Javier warms against your touch but maintains a pout. “I like jeans.”

Rolling your eyes, you huff out a laugh. “Would a pair of sweatpants be detrimental to your wardrobe, Javier?”

“Stop using big words,” he groans. “I’m barely awake.”

The large mall is annoying to Javier, full to the brim with last-minute (or maybe prepared, he never holiday-purchases) shoppers. He holds your hand, shooting feisty glares at anyone that dares to bump against his or, god forbid, your side. “Relax,” you tease and squeeze his free hand. The other carries a bag containing two hoodies, three t-shirts, and two pairs of sweatpants. “You’re not on a mission, and you certainly don’t have the knuckles to pitch another fight.”

He looks at his hands and scowls. You’re right. They’re no longer black and blue but faded yellows and greens, a spare bit of purple over the bones. The fight wasn’t that long ago, really, even though it feels like an eternity.

You drag Javier into a favorite shop of yours. He follows you around like a lost puppy while you search through clothes. He even hands you one or two tops he thinks you’d look nice in. You kiss him on the cheek and he dares to smile for a moment before returning to his stone-faced annoyance at such a packed area.

The dressing rooms are nicer, much more spaced out and offering places to rest. Javier sits in a chair across from your little cubby as you try things on. Every time you find something, you come out and model it for him. He comments, always positively, gives a little applause and smiles at the twirl you give in the big trifold mirror.

There’s one pair of leggings that hug your ass tight. Javier nearly salivates at them. “I like those,” he comments. “They look comfortable.” The same follows with a pair of jeans, even more flattering. He crosses his legs and nods, giving you similar comments.

Then come the dresses and tops. They’re all low-cut, not the wintery clothing Javier’s always seen you in. They show off your cleavage, and one scarlet colored blouse with a low neckline and fluffy sleeves makes Javier’s eyes simultaneously light up and darken. “How’s this one?” You ask, tugging at the sleeves.

“How much is it?” He asks, leaning back and looking at you through lidded eyes.

“Uh…” you tell him the cost and look back up at him, expecting a comment. “Why?”

“I’m buying that for you myself,” he smirks up at you, eyeing you up and down in a way that makes your skin feel intensely hot. The sight is stunning to him, and your flustered smile makes the smirk a little more devilish.

Javier does end up buying you the shirt, and you purchase a few other things you liked. But that scarlet shirt is stuck on Javier’s mind in replay: the subtle valley between your tits, how they filled out the shirt just perfectly and tugged at the cloth covering them, the way they look painfully soft to the touch, especially through that soft fabric. He wonders if you were wearing a bra under it. Then he has to stop himself.

You eat dinner late, chatting mindlessly over everything and nothing. Javier has no work to speak of now, so he tells you tall tales of the hunt for Escobar, some exaggerated and some underplayed. He mainly listens to you, asks about your past and your future, your family and your job. He could never tire of your voice, the soothing lull that warms him from the inside out, just like your skin flushed in that goddamn red top.

He drives the both of you home, humming softly to the songs on the radio. He’s beginning to recognize more and more of the top-40 hits on a certain preset station, songs he’d never listen to on his own. He glances over at you, gazing out of the window, and feels his body warm again- not just in his heart, but his stomach and lower too. He dares to steal a glance down, at the soft swell of your tits in that sweater. God, he wants to get you naked.

But he doesn’t. He doesn’t know what you want and he’s too afraid to ask, too afraid to shatter this blissful phase of adoration without the sexual attraction. He wonders if you feel it too, if your clothes suddenly feel too restricting and too warm when you run a hand down his bare back.

The nightly routine ensues: you shower. Javier changes, this time into a new hoodie but leaves his legs bare, wearing only boxers on the bottom. He waits on the couch, and when you exit the bathroom, he takes his turn. He returns and sits next to you on the couch.

Tonight, when you ask him to share your bed with you, he doesn’t say no. In fact, he doesn’t say much of anything, just yawns softly and stands, taking your hand.

It’s a sacred space, your bed. Javier knows it. He rarely fucks women in his; whether it’s for his own privacy or fear they’ll fall asleep there, he can’t say. But your bed is such an intimate expression of you, and he can see it. He can see the divot in the mattress where you sleep, the way you arrange the pillows just right for your own head. It is a queen size, but it’s single-occupancy: until now, that is, and Javier feels honored you’re willing to share this holiness with him.

He gets into the bed on the other side of you, the warm blankets enveloping him, and he nearly lets out a moan at the comfort. Compared to the hotel bed and the couch, this is sleeping on a literal cloud from the heavens. He lies still, waiting to see what you do first. Not wanting to overstep anything.

His prayers are answered when you snuggle into his side. You rest your head on his chest, kissing his sternum through the soft material of the hoodie. A hand rests on the other side of your face, and your legs both encircle one of his. Javier smiles, wrapping an arm around you. He presses a kiss into your hair and murmurs a goodnight, letting his head fall back. He has no time to worry about this situation before he falls asleep.

He falls asleep almost immediately, which makes you chuckle through your half-conscious state. He seems to always radiate heat, Javier. Your layers of blankets upon blankets suddenly feel unnecessary when a heat source the strength of the summer sun fills your bed. His chest is strong and firm beneath you. The rise and fall of his chest is like a boat rocking on the ocean, putting you at ease and allowing you to rest.

Fuck. He knew this was a bad idea. Why did he do this?

The clock reads 1:48 and Javier is wide awake, staring at your popcorn-stucco-whatever the fuck it is ceiling. He wasn’t able to process this before sleep overtook him, before his consciousness was wiped and with it, his inhibitions.

Your body is pressed to his so perfectly. You sleep without a bra, and Javier can feel his arm being slightly sandwiched between your breasts, the way they press further into it every time you inhale. Your thighs are warm with sleep, and he can feel your core pressed against his hip, even while you sleep and even through the layers of clothing.

Javier feels like the embodiment of slime. You’re asleep and all he can think about is how fucking hot your body is, how much he wants to press you into this mattress and wake you with an orgasm. He wants to palm your tits and make your nipples harden through that flimsy shirt, to slide his fingers beneath your pajama bottoms and-

He can’t take it. He feels so wrong, the smell of you surrounding him and choking him like a thick perfume, even in its subtlety. He does not deserve to sleep next to you, innocently, like someone you love, when all he can think about is his own carnal desires.

Pushing back the covers, Javier gets out of bed before any more blood can flow to his slowly hardening dick. This is all wrong. He should not be doing this, thinking these things without knowing you feel the same.

But the guilt is as strong as his arousal. He watches you for a moment, torn between his options, before meandering through the darkened bedroom and finding his way into the bathroom. He turns on the bright lights and forces himself to stare at the bulbs, to make his pupils shrink from their blown state of sleep mixed with desperation. He’s fully awake now.

He needs to get the hardened length down. He can’t do this, can’t allow himself this suffering while you sleep in the next room.

The sink. Cold water. He gasps silently at the splash of the ice-cold water against his face, dampening the edges of his hoodie. It doesn’t work enough. Again. Nothing. He feels like a teenager, unable to control himself. The cold water is a good idea, though.

Javier strips down, trying to avoid the urge to take himself in hand and fix this here and now. Turning the water as cold as it can go, Javier turns on the shower and steps in.

Agony is the best term he has. It makes him want to squeal like a fucking pig as he shudders from the cold. It doesn’t work to force his erection down, but what use is it when it’s not something physical but mental stimulating him? The cold shock didn’t do shit. Javier’s still achingly hard. He turns the water warmer and sighs as it gradually turns to a tolerable temperature, one that he can relax under and allow himself to let out a deep sigh.

He has no other options, unless he wants to wait it out. Leaning against the wall, Javier strokes himself, biting his lip and hoping the water pressure will cancel any soft moans he can’t avoid. It doesn’t take long when he’s this aroused, when he knows exactly what the fantasy in his head would feel like.

Javier is panting and sweating, from the effort and the growing heat of the water. He feels disgusting but it feels so good, and he can’t help imagining you doing this to him, you spreading your legs and feeding the fire between his own.

It only takes a few minutes. He gasps as he cums, with a force he’s never brought forth with his own hand. He bites his lip so hard he’s sure he might cut it off, not allowing the desperate sounds to reach a level you could hear. When he’s done, he groans and cracks his neck. “Oh, little bee,” he whispers, agonized as he lets the water wash the evidence of his sins down the drain.

When he’s done, Javier walks into your bedroom, silently, in the dark. His previous boxers were stained with a patch of his precum; he can’t put those back on. He drops the towel and puts on different boxers.

After he’s changed, he looks at your bed longingly for a moment. The soft sheets, soft mattress, the soft body between them. But in Javier’s head, he’s forsaken his right to the warmth, the comfort.

When you wake in the morning, hours after you thought you heard the shower running, you find Javier is not in your bed. There isn’t even a warm spot where he lay, just your body shifted further from your normal sleeping position. When you wander out to make your morning coffee, you find him. He spent the night on the couch again.

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zeroone-eleven · 3 years

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If only you were here; Hwang Yeji (ITZY)

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Summary: Yeji was the leader, she couldn't afford to be seen being anything less than perfect for the role. No crying, being sad, or feeling any kind of negativity. But she's only human, and being human means letting your emotions run through you.

Requested? ☒

"Miles away from seeing you."

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She was exhausted. Today's schedule was nothing but hectic, from interviews to filming for music videos. All Yeji had wanted to do was be with her girlfriend, to have her take away the stress, to run her fingers through her hair, to hold her like doing so was the only thing keeping her together. But with Y/N visiting her hometown? The best she could do was a facetime.

She loved her job, her members, and their MIDZYs. She really does. But sometimes the high life takes more from you than it gives. Lately her girls have been facing prejudiced hate from a bunch of ruthless people online. Lia was being branded as "Lazy" and it made the leader's blood boil, among all five of them Lia was the one who spends the most time in the practice room, especially when she has trouble with some of the choreography. She remembers a memory of theirs that included Lia almost passing out of exhaustion in the practice room, Yeji herself wasn't enough to pull the pale and sluggish girl out of there. If Yuna's maturity and hidden stern-ness hadn't reared their heads then she has no doubt that Lia would've ended up in a hospital bed.

Chaeryeong is under fire for "Being Ugly" and all Yeji could do was scoff at the stupidity of the false accusation. Despite Yeji being Y/N's girlfriend, Chaeryeong was the latter's bias. This information had her shocked, Chaeryeong smug, and worst of all: It gave Ryujin a field day. Which resulted in getting the other three members in on teasing her. "Anyone who catches Y/N's eye is fucking beautiful" she mutters to herself. Not to toot her own horn but Y/N has an eye not only for gorgeous looking people, most times those she ends up liking are great people with great personalities. Your ex, Ahn Hyejin of Mamamoo is a damn great example of that.

Another one of her members under fire is Yuna, the baby of their new little family. Knets had a field day when it was found out that the Maknae wasn't originally planned to become a part of ITZY. Jumping on the chance to poke at the youngest's insecurity, thry took to saying that she wasn't good enough to be with them, much less have debuted at all. That's bullshit, and she won't leave room for argument. Yuna is the glue that holds them together, the friend that they can't imagine not having even when they've been a group for less than a year. She stands up to Yeji without being disrespectful when the leader is being too strict or controlling. She pulls Lia out of her workaholic state whenever it starts to become detrimental instead of beneficial. She is the one carrying Ryujin's ass whenever the latter thinks her dad jokes are funny. She's the one to calm Chaeryeong down backstage whenever the latter is feeling nervous, anxious or on the verge of a breakdown.

Ryujin's a reliable friend through and through, but if the fate of the world was decided by the rapper's ability to tell a funny joke? Yeji bets that they all would've died ages ago, she's better at joking around with actions than she is with words. Which leads to some people labeling some of Ryujin's actions as "Bullying". Yeji admits to herself that, yes. To the untrained eye it does seem as if Ryujin's the type, she has the face of a villain when she wants to look intimidating after all. But the rapper is also the softest person she has ever known in her life, testified by the one time they had a pillow fight in the dorm. In the heat of the moment, Ryujin's slipper got thrown and it knocked a Lizard dead off their wall. The pillow fight abruptly ended with four members trying to make her feel less guilty over the critter's untimely death.

Lia interjected that had the moment been captured on camera, some MIDZYs would be making a meme of how they'd like to be that "Lucky" lizard. Ryujin cried harder, because the lizard was not at all "Lucky" in her opinion.

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Yeji was so lost in her own thoughts and so fatigued that she didn't even realize that she had finished changing from her performance outfit to the clothes she wore before clocking in for work. It was only when she had closed the door to her dorm room did she realize how tired she actually was. She was thankful she had been given her own room instead of bunking with someone else again, she's not too sure she could make it up in a bunk bed if she was still roommates with someone.

She crashes onto the bed and pulls out her phone. Most days she would get some shut eye and just facetime her girlfriend in the morning, but at the moment she thinks she'll end up in a mental ward if she goes another second without hearing her Y/N speak. So despite the fact that she can't feel her legs anymore and that her eyelids are growing heavier by the second, she calls.

Ring

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Ring

You're pulled from the coziest and most comfortable sleep you've fallen into for the night by a constant ringing. You rub your eyes and turn towards your nightstand where your phone is located. "Who in their right fucking mind would be calling at this hour?" You grab your phone and the caller photo snaps you out of your mood before you even see the caller's name.

You hurriedly turn on your lamp on the nightstand and then proceeded to hit answer. "YEJ- whoa, not that I'm unhappy to see you but you look like you should be asleep instead. You look tired as hell Yej. Did you eat yet? How about water? Please stay away from dehydration and be sure to drink regularly." Yeji smiles at you, with her eyes drooping every now and then. "Yeah, I should be asleep but I just missed you so much I couldn't sleep without seeing you first."

You sit up and lean against the head board instead of laying down, your worry increasing tenfold. "What's wrong?" Yeji knows how to prioritize her health first and she never calls you half asleep because she had always claimed that you deserved nothing less than her full attention. She never calls you half asleep unless she's alarmingly close to losing her composure. Her eyes widen as soon as the question leaves your mouth, and a sniffle makes its way through the line. She burried her face in her arm and struggles with wanting to tell you and wanting to fake being strong with you.

You sense the dilemma within your girl and you refuse to let her carry this alone. "Hey, I'd never force you to spill. But I am always gonna be here to listen to your troubles. I already know how strong you are, you've got nothing more to prove. Let it out and I'll be here to support you." Yeji's resolve crumbles and she cries as she tells you everything that's been weighing her down today. She cries because of the unfairness of it all, she cries about how she can't protect her girls, she cries about how she wants nothing more than to wrap them up in a hug and not let go until they're all better but the girls just like their leader want to seem strong and untouchable for each other.

Yeji cries about how she wishes she was with you instead of working, she cries about how guilty she feels for sometimes wishing that they never had to go through the unfairness that the idol life had to offer, she cries about how she feels like she's disappointing the MIDZYs for feeling as she feels. She cries because it's just the start of their journey and she's already so tired. She cries because it's the only way she knows how to get rid of the stress, even if it's just a temporary solution.

What hurts you the most is that she doesn't look at you as she says this. You're a MIDZY after being Yeji's girlfriend and it you don't miss the way she chokes up even more when she said she feels like she's disappointing the fandom. You let your girlfriend let it all out before taking a moment to pull yourself together, and then you speak.

"I can't and I won't tell you that I understand how you feel as an Idol because I'm not one. But as a MIDZY, I can and I will tell you that you were born to be the leader of ITZY, no one else could step up to that role as well as you do even if they tried. Tell the girls I told you to let the haters run their mouths, because we MIDZYs know that each and every one of you brings something special to the table. ITZY isn't ITZY if it doesn't have Hwang Yeji, Choi Jisu, Shin Ryujin, Lee Chaeryeong and Shin Yuna as the members. You girls are a fucking unit and you are all strong enough to knock those bitches speechless."

You stare at Yeji the whole time and notice that although her body has stopped shaking, her tears are still making their way down her cheeks. You take in every detail of her face and wish with everything within you that you were there with her to wipe her tears and hold her close. In your opinion, words aren't enough but you suppose due to the distance between you two that you've gotta work with what you have at the moment. Right now all you have are feelings and words.

"Now as your girlfriend." Yeji's head adjusts enough that you could see half of her face, but the other half still remains buried in her arm. "I'm telling you that you can never disappoint me." She chuckles in humor before turning her gaze away from her phone. "You don't know that, I'm not perfect-"

"I never said you were."

Silence sits between the two of you. Not once in your whole relationship had you intentionally interrupted Yeji when she was speaking, you strongly believed that everyone deserved a chance to speak their piece. But that had exceptions. Such as now. "I never said you were perfect, because you're not. You're human and you have your flaws but believe me when I say that you could never disappoint me, despite the fact that humans weren't designed to be perfect you still work on yourself everyday trying to polish all the rough edges, trying to better yourself not for anyone or anything but yourself because you really want to be better than you were in the past. How could I be disappointed in someone as noble as that?"

You notice that she's now actively fighting to keep her eyes open and you smile. "You okay for now?" She nods and you continue. "Then go to sleep, God knows you both need and deserve a good night's rest. I'll call you back tomorrow when you wake up, so you can tell me about everything else your sleep addled brain forgot to tell me tonight."

Yeji uncovers the other half of her face and eyes stare at her screen that shows your face, now more than ever she wishes she was there with you, to thank you and hold you for everything you've said and for the way you've calmed her down. She promises herself that once you meet back up in person, she'll make it up to you. But for now words will have to do.

"Thank you Y/N. I love you."

Your smile grows wider and Yeji swears she's ready to make a fool out of herself just to ensure that that smile never fades away from your face. You take your a moment to memorize the candid details of Yeji's face before replying. "I love you too Yeji. Good night." Both of you wave goodbye and as heavy of an action it was, you take the initiative to end the call because you know that if you left it up to your girlfriend she would never hit that End Call button.

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

Yeji places her phone on the nightstand by her bed.

Y/N lies back down properly on the bed.

The two stare straight ahead of them, eyes unfocused.

They take a deep breath before closing their eyes, ignoring the need that courses through their hearts.

"I'll be with her soon enough."

--------------------٩(◕‿◕｡)۶--------------------

A/N: I think this is the longest fic I've written on this app? Why the hell is there too little ITZY content on this app? it feels like drought istg 😭😭

#Hwang Yeji x Reader #ITZY #itzy x reader #Hwang Yeji #reader!insert

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sodalitefully · 3 years

Text

Santa Slash is coming to town...

This fic is the Christmas-themed spiritual successor to my Easter Bunny AU. Special thanks to @slashscowboyboots for supporting all my holiday nonsense!

Four snapshots from Slash’s Christmas prep marathon through the years:

🎄🎄🎄🎄

Jingle bells.

Fucking jingle bells.

There were FIFTEEN of them on the stupid-fucking-candy-colored costume he had to wear at this godforsaken excuse for a seasonal job. “Earn some extra cash,” they said. “It’s easy, you barely have to do anything,” they said. "You'll be perfect, you already look the part!" they said.

"They are about to find a size-ten jingle-toed bootie up their ass,” Axl said – to himself, as he rushed into the storage room turned "dressing room" and buttoned up his itchy red and green vest with one hand while sipping an Orange Julius from the food court with the other.

“Hey, Axl! You’re barely late today, awesome!”

And then there was this weirdo.

Axl could not for the life of him explain why a shopping mall in Indiana elected to hire a skinny dude in his 20s with a dark complexion and a nose ring to portray Saint Nick himself, but whatever the reason, Axl was stuck working with this fruitcake until Christmas Day. Sure Slash was nice enough (oh yeah, and his name was Slash, or at least that's how he introduced himself without offering any explanation or even a last name), but he was way too enthusiastic about getting paid minimum wage to let strange kids sit in his lap at a grimy old shopping mall.

Uh, not in a weird way, Slash was good with the kids, really. But sometimes... it seemed like he was taking his role a little too seriously.

"How come you don't have a beard?" the first customer of Axl's shift, a little girl in a Tweety bird sweater and blonde pigtails, asked suspiciously.

"That's a good question,” Slash said, scratching at his bare chin. The neck of his Motörhead Beyond the Threshold of Pain Tour T-shirt was visible over the faux fur collar of the Santa costume, and his shiny black boots clearly came from a military surplus store. “I get asked that a lot but the truth is, it just isn't a flattering look, trust me. I tried it once, and the elves could barely look at me in the eye." To Axl’s incredulity, the girl actually accepted that answer. "Now tell me, what would you like for Christmas this year, sweetheart?"

As usual, Axl tuned out at this point. Fake a smile for the overprotective parents, take the painfully awkward commemorative photograph, try not to look like he would rather die than hear Slash try to gently explain that Santa will probably not be delivering a pony this year one more damn time, rinse and repeat – until about an hour later, when the unthinkable happened.

The less said about about the incident, the better. Suffice to say, one of the darling angels tossed his Christmas cookies, and some of the resulting mess wound up soaking into the front of Axl’s elf costume. As if he needed another reason to hate his job; this was just adding insult on top of injury (that is, the injury to Axl’s pride as a result of being forced to wear the most ridiculous-looking costume he’s ever had the misfortune of laying eyes on).

“That’s it. I quit.” He grabbed the elf cap off his head and slammed it on the ground, then stormed through the exit gate past the sign wishing customers a "Holly Jolly Holiday Season," the bells on his costume ringing merrily as he stomped his feet.

“Hey, wait!”

“No,” Axl growled, but he did turn around to look back at Slash, still sitting in the plastic candy-cane throne unbothered by the mess or the sniffling child now mostly placated by a peppermint candy. "What."

Slash offered him a bright, beguiling smile.

"What do you want for Christmas, Axl?"

-----

Nothing said "holiday cheer" like wandering the tinsel-adorned labyrinth that was a Walmart superstore a week before Christmas, with Paul McCartney's "Wonderful Christmastime" echoing through the tinny PA system and surrounded by other last-minute vultures hopelessly scavenging the picked-over aisles.

In Izzy's defense, he actually finished all his shopping early this year, for once. But then his two little brothers begged him to drive them around town to find the perfect gift for a girl at school that they apparently both had a crush on, and like a fool he agreed.

He was regretting it now. Anything would be better than subjecting himself to nearly an hour of top-40 Christmas music. The jingle bells were jingling, the carolers were caroling, the B-list pop stars were spitting out god-awful covers of Christmas classics, and don’t even get him started on the commercials.

He wasn't about to walk around in public with his fingers shoved in his ears (at least, he wasn't that desperate yet), but he did squeeze his eyes shut and pinch the bridge of his nose, trying to force himself to relax. Just take deep breaths and think of The Rolling Stones...

"Hey, uh, you doing okay?"

Izzy opened his eyes reluctantly. In front of him was a young man wearing a concerned expression and a Santa hat, stuffed onto a massive pile of dark curls.

"I'm fine. Just finding out if it's possible to die from overexposure to Christmas music."

"Ahhh." The man nodded in understanding. "It's not, unfortunately. I've tested it, trust me."

"Do you work here or something?" Izzy asked. A leather jacket and ripped jeans didn't look like an employee uniform, but his hat matched the store decor and he didn't have a cart or shopping basket.

"No, I'm actually a seasonal distributor. Just checking in to make sure everything's in place before that last holiday rush, you know? Shit always gets crazy at the last minute."

"Tell me about it," Izzy responded, as if he knew a thing about marketing as a cynical 16-year-old. But he had first-hand experience with last-minute crises, and as if to prove it, his brothers came running up to him at that moment.

"Jeff! We can't find anything good, what should we do?"

"What's the problem?" the stranger in a Santa hat asked, looking genuinely concerned.

"We don't know what present to get for a girl at school," the boys explained.

"Hmm..." He tapped at his chin. "Why don't you just – oh wait, you're underage. Well, how about you bake her some cookies or something? That's what everyone does for me and I have no complaints."

Desperate to remove himself from this musical hell, Izzy jumped on the idea. "Yeah, you could do sugar cookies! And decorate them like horses, she likes horses right?” The boys had only mentioned that a dozen times; Izzy was starting to wonder if this girl even had any other personality traits.

To his relief, a spark lit up in his brothers' eyes. Cookies were a perfect idea, and suddenly they were dragging him away to look at cookie cutters and sprinkles.

Izzy turned around to shoot the helpful stranger a grateful look, but when he looked back, the man had disappeared with no trace, leaving not even a furry white pompom behind.

-----

Slash glanced out the window and grimaced – it was cold as a witch’s big bouncy tit outside, nothing but snow and ice as far as the eye could see. He pulled the blanket tighter around his shoulders and took another swig of hot Irish coffee. Damn the North Pole, there was a reason he took his summer vacations in Malibu.

But despite the miserable work conditions, Slash was nothing if not dedicated to his job. In front of him was a sack overflowing not with toys but with the most recent letters to Santa, straight from the North Pole's post office. With Christmas only a few days away, his daunting task was to go through the whole mountain of letters as quickly as possibly in order to take their special requests into consideration before it was time to start loading up the sleigh.

Well, there was no time like the present to get started. Slash stretched his back and got comfortable in his coziest armchair (by throwing his legs over one armrest and slouching until his head rested on the other), absentmindedly tapping the end of his peppermint stick on the edge of an ashtray. He grimaced when he brought the stick back to his lips and realized his mistake.

With a sigh, he dropped the peppermint stick back in the ashtray already full of cigarette butts and ruined candies, and unfolded the first letter. In barely legible green marker, the message read:

Dear Santa Claus,

My name is Steven and I'm 5 years old. Please give me a skateboard for Christmas. My brother has one and he won't let me borrow it to learn tricks.

Hmmm. Five years old was a little young for a skateboard. Knowing Steven, he'd probably knock his teeth out by New Year's...

...Slash shrugged. Why not? All things considered, he would have killed for a skateboard when he was five, so who was he to say no?

-----

Duff was seven years old when his older brothers cornered him in the backyard and gleefully informed him that Santa Claus was a fraud. It was all a lie made up by parents to convince their children to behave during the year, they explained, and the toys were made on factory lines not by magical elves. Their mother gave them a hell of a scolding afterwards but it was too late, the deed could not be undone.

He tried to play it cool, but the truth was, Duff was very distraught as Christmas Eve inched closer. Could his siblings be right? He didn't want to believe it, but if he was being honest with himself, he'd suspected as much for some time. He braced himself to accept the hard truth come Christmas Eve – but only if he was presented with definitive proof.

When the fateful night finally came, Duff and two of his brothers laid out their sleeping bags behind the couch, where they'd be hidden from view if anyone tried to approach the Christmas tree. They all swore not to fall asleep, not even for a second until Christmas morning... And it wasn't until his brother started snoring that Duff realized he was the only one still awake and silently anticipating the moment of truth.

It was imperative, of course, that he stayed hidden and didn't make a sound, or else risk giving their plot away. But... it was past midnight, dinner was hours ago and Duff's empty stomach was starting to distract him from the task at hand. He couldn't stop thinking about all the food he would get to eat with his family on Christmas Day: the glazed ham, mashed potatoes, apple pie and Christmas cookies...

In the dim light, Duff could just barely make out the plate of cookies for Santa, waiting in front of the tree. The cookies were still there untouched, all six of them... Surely no one would notice if Duff ate just one?

He tiptoed over his sleeping siblings, as silent as the snow falling outside, making his way around the sofa to the plate on the coffee table. But just as he reached out to pluck a gingerbread man from the assortment, he saw a shadow of movement out of the corner of his eye. There, beside the Christmas tree in the flickering glow of multicolored string lights, was a mysterious figure in a fur-lined coat and a red cap.

Duff stared at the intruder, slack-jawed. The cookie clattered back onto the dish, and at the noise the stranger whirled around to face him.

"Duff! What are you doing still awake?" he demanded. Duff took a breath to answer – or more likely to ask how the man knew his name – but before he could, the man peered over the couch, narrowed his eyes and frowned. "Oh I see what this is. You thought you would catch your parents pretending to be me!" he accused. "Well, here's the real truth: adults are always wrong and you should never do what they say!"

The man – could he really be Santa Claus? – he planted his leather-gloved hands on his hips as he scolded Duff. "And don't even get me started on teenagers..." he griped, casting a stare over Duff's shoulder where his older brother's leg was sticking out from behind the couch, tangled in a blanket.

Tears started to well up in Duff's eyes.

"Please still give them Christmas presents! I know they said they don't believe in you, but they've been good, I promise!" he begged. Santa's expression softened.

"Aw, I know, kid. I promise they'll still get their presents, alright? Let me just finish up here and then maybe you can help me out with those cookies, sound good?"

Placated, Duff sniffled and nodded, scrubbing his eyes with his sleeve. He hopped onto the sofa, swinging his feet and watching with awe as Santa pulled beautifully wrapped gifts out of seemingly nowhere and stacked them around the tree, one after another until all eight of the McKagan children were represented. He took a step back to take in his handiwork, made a few minor adjustments, then turned back to Duff: “Voila! That’s the magic of Christmas. Now pass me that plate, would you?”

Santa sat down next to Duff and propped his boots up on the coffee table. When Duff held out the plate of cookies, he selected one decorated to look like Santa Claus, white beard and all, and promptly bit its head off.

“I love my job, but delivering presents is exhausting,” he sighed, accepting a glass of milk from Duff’s outstretched hand. “I’ve already covered Asia, Africa, Europe, and most of the Americas, so I’d say I’m due for a break. Cheers, Duff.” He held up his glass and Duff tapped it with his half-eaten cookie.

“To a merry Christmas and a happy New Year!”

🎄🎄🎄🎄

#which sounds better:#santa slash or slash claus?#what do yall eat on christmas? i realized while writing this that i have no idea what people normally have #sodafics #guns n roses #gnr #guns and roses #slash #saul hudson #axl rose #izzy stradlin #steven adler #duff mckagan #gnr fanfic #christmas

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mairights · 5 years

Note

blurb night idea? petey and you have been dating since like. kindergarten. but your relationship is like he texts you once a week and doesn't even talk to you anymore, and its super awkward (you know about the 'internship') so one day you talk to him about it, and u realize he's just afraid to mess things up and when u assure him he wont he turns into a clingy, cuddly baby and calls you pet names and all the fluff ❤💗💕💖💘💓💝

i feel like you’ve sent this in a few times (absolutely no shade i promise!!) and i’m rlly sorry for avoiding it djfkdhskdh i just wasn’t sure how i wanted to write it

three days. three days since peter parker has spoken to you. no texts, no calls, nothing. four day weekends should be spent cuddled up with your boyfriend for at least 48 of those 96 blissful, free hours, in your opinion. but it’s sunday and you’ve spent approximately none of them with peter. and unfortunately, that’s the way it’s been for what feels like forever with peter.

you know he loves you— he tells you lots and tries to make plans when he can. you’ve known each other since the two of you were barely in school and you think you’ve loved him the whole time. but “when he can” and “lots” seem to be very loose terms; the times you do spend together are great, but the definition of “date” with you two is certainly... plain. dinner occasionally, but usually just study dates, little grocery shopping trips, or excursions to the library. sometimes he holds your hand, but it’s often only meaningful smiles and puns he gives to show affection. usually, you don’t mind it. that’s just peter, just the way he is. but lately... it’s been bothering you.

maybe it’s the way you always see your friends kissing their significant others at festivals, holding hands on the way to class. maybe it’s the couples you see being freely affectionate in public, holding each other for all they’re worth and pressing soft kisses to each other’s cheeks. fairy tales all around you that you’ve always dreamed of with peter but can’t seem to realize. when you were younger, it hardly bothered you that peter wasn’t affectionate. but now? you’d be lying if you said you didn’t want him to join you on the couch, that you didn’t want to rest your head on his chest and doze off half on top of him. you’re touch-starved, plain and simple.

it’s been three days since peter parker’s talked to you, and you miss him. and way more than usual. so, you do the only thing one in this situation can do: you text him.

can you come over? the simple message reads. peter’s contact name is ‘petey’ with lots of hearts and cute emojis next to it; it’s how he makes you feel. you question whether he really feels the same. guilt settles in the moment you do, but still... you can’t shake it.

surprisingly fast for peter, a new message comes in.

of course.

twenty minutes later, just after the clock strikes eight, your little prince walks through the doorway, backpack shouldered and curls tousled. he looks so cute, wearing the absolute coziest sweater you’ve ever seen on him. wanna wear that, you catch yourself thinking. if only he would offer

“hi,” he says, smiling awkwardly. he plops down in an armchair across from the couch and takes in your surroundings. his eyes soften at the cozy atmosphere; fuzzy blankets strewn across the sofa, a mug of tea on the coffee table, and a sweet romcom he watched with you one playing on mute. and you, probably the love of his life, curled up in the center of it all. his heart aches.

“hey,” you greet gently. silence lingers for a few minutes more. peter watches the television, trying to decipher what the characters are saying with an adorable pout on his face. it’s a sight to see, truly, but you really need to talk.

“peter,” you bite your lip, “peter, i... i really need to talk to you about something?”

brown curls and eyes flit towards you, attentive and curious.

“sure, b-“ he stops himself, closing his eyes and sighing softly. your brow furrows. b? finish that!!! finish that sentence!!!

but he doesn’t. “of course,” he says. “you can tell me anything.”

tentatively, you pat the space next to you. perhaps he won’t want to take it, but you’re damned if you don’t try.

“sit next to me?”

peter’s eyes widen. he opens his mouth, like he’s ready to speak, but he doesn’t, which is both a relief and a disappointment. after a moment, he nods, drops his bag, and shuffles over. he sits next to you. you smile, but it dulls quickly.

you sigh a little. here goes nothing.

“look, i shouldn’t beat around the bush about this, i... it’s been eating at me. so.. just...” you shake your head, “peter, do you like me?”

for the first time in a while, peter parker looks truly dumbfounded.

“like you?” he breathes out. “of course i like you. i like you so much. so much.” he realizes he’s babbling before he can stop it and his cheeks go bright pink and he toys idly with his fingers. you frown.

“wh-where did that come from?”

once again, you sigh. “you just... you never really, i dunno, do anything. say much. a-and it’s okay if that’s not your thing, i get it, but...”

your gaze drops. peter follows it. “but what?”

“i see so many couples, y’know? and i get, i guess, jealous? god...” you bury your face in your palms; how much dumber could you sound? your fingers feel clammy and cold against your flushed skin. saying this feels so surreal, even if you know you have to.

it’s silent for another moment, but peter does finally speak. his voice is so, so soft that it makes your chest ache.

“are you talking about how i don’t... like...” he swallows thickly, “get... affectionate?”

you nod, still covering your face. “i’m sorry, i-i don’t mean to pressure you. i just- i just want that sometimes.”

“the pda and stuff?”

“...yeah.”

“really?”

the shift in his tone makes your head pop up. you expect an awkward explanation from him, another patch to work through in progress. instead, you hear hopeful curiosity pricking in his voice, lilting and sweet like a cool drink of water. upon meeting his gaze, you find peter’s eyes shining and round.

“well... yeah,” you say sheepishly. “we don’t really cuddle. or use... nicknames, or anything. it seems nice, i guess.”

peter bites his lip, looking irrevocably cute. he looks down, blushing deeply, and oh my god are his hands shaking? what’s he thinking?

“i want that too, y’know,” he mumbles.

your heart practically stops.

“you- you do?” your eyes widen, genuinely surprise. “like.. are you sure? because you never-“

“i know, i know,” he sighs out, squeezing his eyes shut. shaky and nervous, he places a hand over yours. god, his fingers are soft. and warm..

peter meets your gaze. “i know i never really show it, but i do love you. a lot. and i wanna, y’know, hold you. kiss you.”

you nudge him softly. little smiles brighten across the both of your faces. peter looks somehow relieved and tense all at once.

“well, why don’t you?” you ask; not judging, not harsh, but really, really curious. peter huffs.

“i don’t wanna mess things up,” he admits. “god, i’ve liked you since i still wore pull-ups, and i’m still too much of a wimp to kiss your cheek. i didn’t... i’m just afraid i’ll be bad at it. the mushy stuff.”

the mushy stuff. it makes a lot of sense, now that you think about it. the pained looks whenever your hands brush, the quiet sighs when you think he might kiss you and he doesn’t, the same longing stares at cute couples on the street that you possess. maybe if you’d looked a bit harder, you would’ve noticed your prince in his little tower, feeling alone because he wants to hold your hand but doesn’t want to mess things up by doing so. and what a doozy that is.

with only slightly hesitant movements, you scoot closer to peter and wordlessly take his hands. breath hitches in his throat quite audibly when you squeeze and find little calluses among his soft, soft skin. he’s so pretty, you think, counting the freckles across his noses the and lighter flecks in his dark eyes. and, huh, has that curl always fell like that? you’ve known peter parker since before you could count, but right now, you feel like you’re seeing him clearly for the first time.

“is this okay?” you ask, close enough to kiss if he wanted to. he nods, smiling widely.

“yeah, baby. so okay.”

baby. that’s all that echoes in your head, lingering like whiplash. baby. baby. baby. you stop in admiring your boyfriend to kiss him firmly. and, oh, it’s so nice.

you’ve kissed him a few times before, but this is different; deeper, softer, and best of all, lasting more than a few seconds. you stay in your position, cross-legged and holding his hands, until peter takes your arms and wraps them around his neck. a pleased sigh escapes you when he pulls you closer. it feels so nice.

once you’re practically in his lap, pressed flush to him and fingers curling in his hair, you pull away to breathe. peter hums softly and tucks his face into your neck, where you can feel his forehead burning (not with fever).

“i love you,” he whispers. “i should say that more. i want to say that more.”

“i love you too. and please, bub, please feel free to say that, like, all the time.”

with something like a giggle falling past peter’s lips, he lifts you against him. you gasp a little as he tilts his head to pepper soft, quick kisses all over your face.

“now,” he murmurs in between pecks, “tell me.. i gotta know the pet names you like.” he utters a new one after each kiss.

a kiss on your cheek. “baby?” you giggle; another on your forehead. “princess?”; one in between your brows; “pretty girl?”

after each one, you murmur an “mhm” and silently wonder if he’s just been waiting to call you sweet things. he keeps kissing all over your face and neck like he absolutely can’t get enough; you’re worried he’ll be drunk off of you.

as you both calm down, settling into each other’s arms for the first time in a long, long time, peter speaks.

“thank you for waiting for me,” he whispers. “i really do wanna be more, y’know, close with you. sweet with you. i just... needed some time, i think. but i’ve always loved you. i hope you know that.”

thank you for waiting for me. truthfully, you hadn’t even thought of it as “waiting.” as much as you wanted to kiss him, hold him, be affectionate with him, you weren’t waiting for that. your love for peter had never been put on hold or locked away because he was nervous to show you physically how he felt. nothing ever felt forced or delayed, even if you’d pent up some of your needs. for peter, you would’ve waited a thousand years for him. you would’ve waited a thousand life times for a kiss because, really, the physicality is not a be-all-end-all. all you need is peter.

slowly, you nod, and draw your fingers across the back of his hand. “i know,” you say back. “i’ve always known.”

#ask #anon #peter parker blurb #peter parker angst #peter parker fluff #peter parker x reader #peter parker imagine

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fahhhhq · 4 years

Text

Similar but Worlds Apart: Part 6

Fandom: Narcos + Kingsman: The Golden Circle

Pairing: Reader x Javier Peña // Reader x Jack Daniels a.k.a Agent Whiskey

WaRniGs: Cursing.

Summary: While on search for your partner, your trip takes an odd turn when you come face-to-face with the twin of your partner. Twins that have no idea that the other one exists. And when feelings get involved, it is up to you to choose.

If you’re new here, start hereee: Part uno, Part kinda dos, Part tres, Part cuatro, Part cinco.

Almost a year ago...

Your flight from Kentucky to New York wasn’t bad. What was bad, was moving half of your stuff to Manhattan because now you had to work in two different cities.

You huffed when you took your baggage’s out of the taxi. Whiskey’s penthouse-adjacent apartment was now yours until he was cleared by the doctor to go out on the field by himself. So, you were guessing you were going to be super annoyed for the next few months living next door and working with a man’s-man.

You looked up to see how high the building was, your palms got sweaty. All you could make out was the STATESMAN sign at the very top of the tower. When you enter the building and head to the elevator, you pressed the number to the floor you were going to be staying at, then it asked you for a secret number, you input it, then it asked for your fingerprint, you knew Statesman was a secret but damn.

But it was all worth it when you entered your “little” apartment. White surfaces, clean polished dark wood floors, leather couches and armchairs, floor-to-ceiling windows, yeah this was what you were talking about. You headed to your room, threw your bags aimlessly and jumped on the bed. Gosh, that was the coziest bed you had laid on.

Someone clears their throat from your door, and you are taken out of your relaxing trance.

“You like the bed?” Jack Daniels, or better yet, Agent Whiskey was standing in the doorway with his arms over his chest. No cowboy hat on, no gun, just plain t-shirt, dark Wrangler jeans and cowboy boots. And his arm in a sling. Why did he look so sexy, you thought to yourself aggravated.

“Uhm, what are you doing here?” you lay on your side and plop your head on your right hand.

“This is my penthouse,” he motions with one hand as the other sits in a sling.

Now you were confused, “I thought I was going to stay in your adjacent apartment?” You get up and head to your suitcases, pick them up and put them on your bed.

“No, this is all mine, sweetness,” he says with a smug smile.

You sit down on the bed, “I get that, cowboy, what I’m asking is that why am I here if I was supposed to stay in my own place?”

He gives a heavy sigh, “First of all, I don’t need a babysitter, but Champ said you had to stay here to help me with whatever work related, while I recover, and when we’re given a task, were going to have to be in sync or all this is going to be a mess.”

You smile, “You don’t seem very ecstatic about this arrangement.”

Jack rolls his eyes, “I’m not, I’m not used to having someone living in my penthouse or taking care of me like if I’m a calf fresh out of her mother’s womb.”

Eyck. He was such a baby. And if he thought that you were going to be his nanny he had another thing coming. “I will be doing no such thing, k’ there partner,” you begin to take out the clothes out of your luggage when one of your red lacy underwear falls to the floor.

“You dropped something,” Jack said with a smirk.

You try to hide your blushing and leave the panties on the ground, “I guess manners aren’t a cowboy’s thing, huh?”

“Im not going to touch your panties until you beg me to, doll,” he says and then walked away. You are left speechless and a little aggravated by his comment. These next few months were going to be something. A good something? A bad something? Who knew.

Present…

“Y/N!” you hear Ginger on the other side scream your name, “He’s here! Jack is here!” You suddenly feel the urge to throw up and you become dizzy. “Y/N, did you hear me?”

“Yes, I-,” you turn and see Javier staring at you with concern on his beautiful face and eyes. Like if Whiskey was staring back at you, “I’m on my way.”

You jump out of bed and go take a quick body shower. You do not want to feel even more guilty by having Javier’s cologne all over your body while you are on your way to meet your boyfriend that has been missing for almost a month.

You enter your room in a towel and watch from the corner of your eye that Javier is already changing. You grab your suitcase from the closet and set it on your bed. Your heart pumping at a 100mph. Your stomach in knots.

“Y/N, what’s going on?” Javier asks, watching your every move.

You begin to put your clothes in the suitcase and then begin to change into jeans and a hoodie. Your mind is racing. How is Jack? Is he Ok? Where has he been this whole time?

“Y/N!” Javier shouts your name and takes your out of your trance. He is now scowling at you.

Your head snaps up. You finish buttoning your jeans and stare at him, “I have to go back to Kentucky.” He approaches you, but you back away. You put your arms up and hold him off, “I’m sorry. I truly am. But I have to go.”

“He’s back, right?” he asks softly. You nod and go back to finish packing.

Faster than you realized all your bags are packed. You are in the living room now, your bags already by the door. You are putting on your shoes to leave, but Javier stops you. He coughs and you whip your head up. There is some sort of sadness to his eyes.

“What’s going to happen to you…” he says.

“Do you mean what’s going to happen to us?” You say. But Javier doesn’t say anything. You stare straight into his eyes. A ping of sorrow hits your chest. You feel like crying.

He crosses his arms over his chest. He looks younger. His hair is disheveled, clothes wrinkled, mustache messy. His puppy eyes almost make you want to stay there in Colombia with him, but Jack needs you more.

You stand and walk to him. He undoes his crossed arms and sets them on his sides. You put your hands on his chest and he looks down at you. You feel your lips tremble, but you blink away tears. He caresses your chin, then your cheek. You close your eyes, taking it all in because you know you are never going to see him again. You inhale him, storing how he smells somewhere where he will always have a special place.

You reach up and hug him. Javier buries his face in the nook of your neck and stay there for what feels like forever. When you peel back from him, his arms still around your waits, you grab his face in your hands and lean in. You kiss him, one last kiss. He deepens it, sweet and intoxicating. You feel a small moan escape your lips, so you pull back, afraid that if you do not back off, it will lead somewhere you do not want it to go.

“I’m sorry that it came to this,” you said still close to his face.

Javier hugs you harder and leans his forehead against yours, “Don’t leave, please.” Its almost a whisper. Your heart breaks.

“We knew what this was when we met, please don’t make this more difficult than it has to be,” You are pleading at this point. You step back and he hesitates on letting you go. But he reluctantly does. “I’m sorry.”

“Will you ever come back?” he asks.

You are at the door, already with your purse in hand, luggage’s already waiting. “It was never supposed to come to this, Javier. The time we spent together, it’s like I met another part of me I didn't know was there. I’m never going to forget you, and I hope you never either.”

You make your way to your luggage, but he stops you, “Wait, no, don’t leave.”

You turn to him, you already said your goodbye, you cannot do this again. “Javier, please. I have to.”

“No,” he grabs your hand, his voice rough, “No, you don’t have to. You can be a DEA agent here with me.”

You gently pull your hand back, “I can’t. I really can’t. I have to go to Jack. He needs me.”

“Ok, but what if you come back?” he’s pleading now, and as much as you wish that you could just grab him and pull him back to bed, you just can’t.

You place a hand on his chest. Fuck, your chest hurts now. “Please let me go.”

“This is the first time that I have felt like the person that I wish I were, Y/n. You’ve brought me to life, even if it sounds cheesy, but you’ve woken something deep inside me that I didn't even know was there.” He is holding onto your hand.

You pull it back, “Stop. You do not know how hard this is for me, Javier. I am dying inside, and as much as I wish I could stay here with you, I can’t. I have to go to Jack.”

“He’s just your partner, you can have another one here. Now that you know that he’s Ok there is no reason to go back,” Javier implores. Your chest hurts.

“There is, I jus-” you cover your face with your hand, “I need to leave.” Javier blocks the door, but you grab your bags and grab the doorknob anyway. You look straight into his beautiful sad, brown eyes. “Please.”

When he does not budge, the tears that you were holding back finally escape and roll down your cheeks like two hot aching tears. You bend at your waist and let it out. Javier walks to you, but you stop him. “Just stop. I need to leave. Jack is waiting for me and I need to see him and know that he’s not harmed.”

“I get that he’s your partner, but you knew the risks of your job when you started working for this secret agency, Y/n. Now you’re worried that your partner won’t be OK?”

You feel anger boiling in the pit of your stomach, “Yes, I’m worried about him. He is not someone that just goes missing. He’s the best of the best, and if he was gone for so long there has to be a reason why, Javier. I can’t just leave everything behind just because we caught feelings,” fuck, you can’t believe that just came out of your mouth, so you try to fix it. “Look, these past two weeks have been amazing, it was just what I needed to not be so caught up with what had happened to Jack, but now, now I have to go. We both knew this was temporary. And you do not seem like someone who develops feelings like this, Javier. So, please, I beg you, let me go.”

He ponders everything you just said but does not move, so you go to him, and grab his hand. “Come back,” he says after a beat. “When you see that he’s fine, come back. Come back to me.”

“I can’t!” You raise your voice. “He’s my fiancée. That’s why I can’t come back!”

Its like all your oxygen exasperated from your lungs. You said it. What you were dreading to admit, you just said it.

“You’re engaged?” he puffed as if I had just punched him in the stomach.

You feel another tear run down my cheek, “Yes…”

He shakes his head, “And you let it get this far while being engaged?”

“You don’t understand, I-,” you're crying at this point, “You have so many similarities with him, Javier. It was hard not to- I’m sorry, I really am.”

Even with a tear stained face you make your way to the door and open it. He finally lets you by.

You turn to see his face and you cannot tell what is going on in that beautiful head of his, but he looks mad, sad, like he doesn’t know what to do the information you just offered. You reach up and tenderly touch his face, “I really am sorry.”

He grabs your hand and kisses your palm and your tears don’t cease. And with that, you leave. Leaving him standing in your old apartment.

Taggity-Tags: @shikin83 @readsalot73 @otherthingsinhead @batata-elegante @fleurdemiel145 @maryan028 @stxriss @igotmadskills @just-add-butter @ghostofthebarricade @fatbottomedcurls @mrsparknuts

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xxgoblin-dumplingxx · 4 years

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Before I Fall: One

“Thor, Stop!” your giggles are infectious, and he wraps his strong arms around you, stopping the swing and nuzzling into your neck.

You come to him this way often. Crisp fall air and the smell of decaying leaves and fertile earth. He doesn’t even remember ever pushing you on a swing in the woods, but there’s something perfect about it.

An aesthetic you would have liked. All jewel-toned leaves and your coziest red sweater. It was a moment you would have adored. But he hardly noticed the scenery. His face was buried in your neck. Soft hair caressing his cheek as his beard tickles your, throat making you giggle. You giggle, and something in his chest sings.

It’s a pure sound. Like water running over rocks. A robin singing that spring is coming from the tree outside his window. Mischief and delight. Your big eyes looking up at him with adoration and devotion. The ‘I love you’ on your lips shines in your eyes before you can make a sound, and he tilts your chin up gently and kisses you. A slow sweet kiss. The kind of kiss he can’t get enough of. The sort of kiss he could spend hours lavishing on you when you would let him. When you didn’t have your own duties to see to.

When he pulls away, you’re about to speak and Thor feels tense. At the edge of it all, he can feel himself being pulled away from you. There’s a screaming insect near his head and he knows. Knows in his heart what he knew all along. None of this is real. And he knows it isn’t because this is always where he wakes up. Always. Right before you speak. Right before you tell him the one thing he desperately needs to hear. Right before he can ask you what he needs to know to make it work. Make all of this work.

________________

Six Years Earlier

Thor stood in line patiently, watching the people around him. He quite liked coffee shops. Midgardians at all parts of their day and all different jobs. Coffee seemed to be a universal equalizer. A little luxury most could afford. Even if it was only every so often. But this morning, something was... different.

There was something in the air. Something that promised a bit of magic. Something that made him feel like something was coming. Something promising.

What he didn’t expect to find was a young woman. One with blue hair and a nose ring. A clean paintbrush holding her hair in a french twist. Jeans and boots. A flannel. You looked like the first breath of spring. You look like a promise, and he smiles.

“My lady,” he said, sinking his voice to its most seductive rumble, his heart thrilling when you turn to look at him. Big doe eyes meeting his, an ocean of colors that draw him in.

“Yes?” you answer, cheeks heating. Bemused but not displeased to be addressed by the blonde god. Even if he’s dressed to blend in in in a hoodie and a leather jacket.

“Could you tell me what drinks are good here? I’ve never been.” he gives you his most charming smile and when you smile back he wants to kiss you. But, he doesn’t. Patience has won him many battles. Most notably in love.

“I really like their mochas,” you tell him, pegging him as the kind of man that had a sweet tooth.

“Ah!” he said, eyes lighting up, “Mochas are chocolate, yes?”

“Yes,” you tell him giggling. That giggle makes his cheeks color. It reminds him of champagne bubbles and makes him long for sleepy mornings and late nights. It makes him want to take you by the hand and lead you to the closest table and murmur things in your ear to make you shy even as you’re giggling for him.

He makes a soft thoughtful sound and winks at you, “I think, I shall take your advice,” he says before turning to the girl behind the register to order.

He thanks the girl and turns to look for you only to see you drifting out with a box of pastry in your hands. “Damn,” he mutters, taking his cup and hustling after you. “My Lady!” he calls, holding up a hand to stop you.

You look up from putting the box in the basket on your Vespa and smile, “No good?” you ask.

“Excellent,” he said grinning, “I just wanted to thank you... and maybe get your name. And a number in case I have need of more assistance.”

“Y/N,” you told him holding out a hand, “Y/N Y/L/N.”

“Y/N,” he repeats, taking your hand and kissing it tenderly, “I’ll remember that.”

“I am Thor, of Asgard,” he says, giving you a cocky smile.

“I know,” you answer, winking, “Did you think I didn’t?”

He laughs. You’re cheeky and he likes that. He likes smart women. But as you get on your scooter and start to pull away he has a moment of panic, “Your number!” he calls.

“Just follow the flowers,” you answer laughing, starting to weave in and out of traffic.

“The flowers,” he mutters, smiling to himself. He looks around, looking for them but. The wet muddy earth is still too cold for such things. There’s nothing but the bare trees and tall buildings sprouting from the never-ending concrete. There was no hint of spring. Not yet... at least. He didn’t think. Until there was the barest hint of a breeze, carrying with it, the scent of fertile earth and rain. Apple blossom and something indefinable. Something that... sparkled. Something that made his nose tingle.

“Flowers,” he said again, grinning to himself. And then, as the realization dawned, he laughed, “Mother,” he muttered, “I told you to stop meddling!” He didn’t have to hear her to hear her laughter. Still, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was supposed to find you.

All he had to do was follow the flowers. Flowers. The flowers.

He pulled out his phone and fumbled to navigate the screen while holding his coffee. He had watched Natasha do it dozens of times and he still couldn’t do it. He still fumbled to even unlock the stupid thing. “Siri!” he demanded, “Where can I find flowers?”

He waited. Watched the tiny machine think. Watched it work. He wanted to find you now. This was a puzzle. It had to be. A quest to prove his worth. A quest he very much wanted to complete.

“Here are places to find flowers,” a prim little voice tells him.

Thor scrolls eagerly through the results. Looking for anything that seems like it was the most likely. Until he remembered. Remembered the paintbrush that you were using as ornamentation in your hair.

A studio. Perhaps he could find you in a studio. So. He picked the top option. The first studio, and started running, dropping his mocha on the ground. He had to find you. He had to know what that feeling was. The sparkles that had burst in his chest.

He had to know. You were meant for him and now he needed to know why.

#Thor x reader #fluff #coffee shop #Thor Odinson #meet cute #impending angst #angsty love story #sorry not sorry

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jawlawsenpai · 3 years

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Foretell Chapter 6: Dying Flower

Pedaling as fast as they can the two rushed to where Connor Price lives. Making good use of the traffic to their advantage assuring that they'll be there first before the man gets home. Going as fast and reckless as they can almost getting into an accident. As if the world knew the perfect scene of what's going to happen it started raining heavily making the two boys' route even more difficult. As they pass by this part of town they noticed that all the neighboring houses seem for more high class people compared to where Simon and some of his other friends lived in, this part of town is uptown, Vicky and the twins are the ones living around this place. Even from where the two boys are cycling in they can clearly see the huge mansion where the twins live in.

Simon didn't have time to think about the beautiful mansion though, his mind is fixated on one thing and one thing only and it's to end this nightmare of his.

As what it feels like to be forever the two of them finally made it to Connor Price's house. The both of them were still a bit surprised of how fancy and modern his house is comparing it to other houses neighboring it, Simon and Sebastian had a quiet agreement that it was the second best house they've seen first being The Vale's house and while certainly big Sebastian's house is in desperate need of repair and new furniture.

"Well we finally made it, now what exactly are you gonna do again?" Simon asked.

"Let me handle it don't just be my look out." Sebastian proclaimed.

"Look out for what?"

"Look out for any nosy neighbors."

While Simon was looking around making sure no on was looking Sebastian kneels down in front of the door and puts his bag down and as he opens it he then takes out two small metal items with one being in an "L" shape while the other is a straight piece of metal. "What are those?" Simon asked. "Well if you were stuck in a house filled with locked doors you tend to be creative and pick up some neat tricks." Said Sebastian with a bit boasting and gloating in his tone. Simon was then surprised as if a piece of a mystery was solve now, even he was wondering about the other multitude of rooms he hasn't entered yet in Sebastian's home and now Simon knew that even Sebastian himself doesn't know what's inside some of those rooms, and that Sebastian wasn't the one who locked them, now a new question arose, who locked them in the first place? Simon knows that Sebastian doesn't share a lot about him but multiple locked rooms that Sebastian doesn't know about that kept bugging Simon's mind, more and more questions popped up one of them being where has Sebastian's father been? Simon only met the man once when they were kids and that was the last of it. Simon stopped this train of thought and told himself that there are more pressing matters to attend to rather than thinking about the living conditions of Sebastian.

While a few minutes passed Simon heard a click sound coming from the door, as Simon turned to look at Sebastian he gave Simon the thumbs up.

As the two enter Sebastian opened and closed the door behind them and immediately scanned the corners of the ceiling and looked around the walls for a good amount of time and with a sigh of relief Sebastian gladly told Simon that they were lucky and despite Mr. Connor Price being a wealthy man he doesn't seem to have any security measures present. Hearing this good news Simon didn't waste any time and started going all over the place in search of the flower.

The first floor of the house was very impressive giving such a modern vibe from the interior design. From the walls and the chosen furniture the place was sporting a black and white motif. In the living room the first eye catching thing was the huge flat screen T.V. that is directly in front of the coziest couch Simon has ever seen and beside are two black lamps, behind the couch and the lamps is a white wall with a painting hanging on it, the painting was a black splat on a white canvas, Simon wondered how much it costs and wondered why would anyone buy something that looks so simple. The floor was made up of black tiles and a huge white rug that was on top of it. On the center piece of the living room was a clear glass table. Going over the living room was the kitchen, the kitchen looked pristine and very high end although there were no hints of the kitchen being actually used as if the kitchen was only for display and not used for functional purposes.

Beside the kitchen was the stairs leading up to the second floor where a long hallway with a black floor and white walls instantly greeted Simon. Sebastian was already there and all he found was the bathroom with a bathtub, a room that seems to be a guess room, and the master bedroom.

As Simon enters the master bedroom he was greeted by a ginormous bed and two drawers beside it, while next to the door there was table with items or toys that are meant for promiscuous occasions. Simon tried his best to avoid looking at those cause he doesn't want to know where those have been in. He looks under the bed and inside the closet in a corner of the room but to no avail. He then decided to check the other remaining rooms. the bathroom is so clean that it looks like a model in a doll house and yet again the flower is nowhere in sight. He then went in the guess room, it looks pretty plain compared to the entire home, this room looks the most normal out of every room.

Simon did one last check on the second floor and finally decided to give up and go search on the first floor. As Simon went down he saw Sebastian quietly searching as well which also meant Sebastian's hasn't found the flower either.

They both almost looked everywhere now from under the couch cushions, in the refrigerator, inside an oven, and even behind the T.V, but nothing! They found nothing! They couldn't find that flower. As all seems lost Simon drops down on his knees out of desperation and frustration, he was getting tired, he was losing hope, he slowly thought to himself maybe he was in over his head putting him and his bestfriend in severe trouble, he even thought to himself that he might be going crazy and that there isn't even a flower to begin with. Until... a whisper... Simon heard an incoherent whisper coming from somewhere in the living room.

Simon thought that this was it he was one hundred percent going crazy and he pounded on the floor to try and mute out the whispers with the loud banging he's making, Sebastian then ran towards Simon and forcibly stopped him from banging any further cause he was making too much noise. As Sebastian tackled Simon to the ground to stop, silence fell on the room. "PULL YOURSELF TOGETHER!" A silent scream made by Sebastian towards Simon.

"I don't know what to do anymore Sebastian." Simon's tired reply.

"We'll find it don't worry. If anyone is going to find that damn flower it's gonna be you. Now quit it!"

"Well it isn't my fault that the floor makes a loud sound when I hit it!"

"..."

"It's a hollow floor!" The two shouted at the same time with glee then they quickly shutted each others mouth to stop the scream midway. They then stood up and removed the white carpet on the floor, they shined both of their flash lights on the black floor only to reveal a small rectangular wooden door with a ring handle on it. The wooden door was way too small to be used as an entrance that leads to a passage leading further down, Sebastian concluded that it must be just a secret compartment that might be holding the flower.

The two boys were overjoyed. As they opened the door Simon's joy was completely replaced with fear. Simon felt his stomach about to burst, he wanted to cry out, all this time struggling to find the flower he completely forgot what the flower was meant for. Flowers are supposed to represent beauty, but not this one, in Simon's eyes this flower is hideous.

The two boys saw a violet flower that almost seemed luminescent. As far as the plant knowledge between Simon and Sebastian are concerned this doesn't appear to be any known flower, as if it almost appears to be alien in nature. The flower was wrapped in what appears to be a transparent air tight bag. Still the two boys didn't want to risk anything to chance so they wore basic medical masks, knowing full well that this wont probably stop the flowers effects fully but it'll still be a safe precaution. The two of them then picked up the flower and decided to put it in Sebastian's bag carefully and trying not to puncture a hole in its containment. As they zip up the bag they closed the door and put the carpet back to its proper position.

The two of them then nodded to each other and went towards the front door. As they made their way the door a pair of lights came rushing to the drive walk. Simon and Sebastian's heart sank! It was him! It was Connor Price! The two boys panicked at first then Sebastian told Simon that they should go upstairs and hide in the master bedroom. As the two boys rushed upstairs Sebastian quickly went first to the kitchen and grabbed a knife.

#story #original story #fiction #supernatural #mystery #novel #original content #writing #my writing #words #creative writing #literature #writer #writers #writers on tumblr #writeblr

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igrublocal · 4 years

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The Takeout’s fantasy food draft: Best pumpkin spice items

Takeout DraftTakeout DraftFood. Fantasy sports. Debating over Slack. Welcome to The Takeout Draft.

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Every week, we will select a topic of conversation from the food and drink world. Takeout writers will then field a team via the snake draft format. After five rounds, The Takeout commenteriat will vote on who they believe was victorious in that week’s draft. At the end of 2020, the staffer with the most weekly victories will select a charity of his/her choice that The Takeout will make a donation toward. (The 2019 victor, Kate Bernot, selected the U.S. Bartenders’ Guild National Charity Foundation.)

The previous drew many passionate voters who were more than ready to reminisce about summers past. After a tight race throughout the first day of votes, Aimee Levitt pulled ahead and scored a well-earned victory with expert picks like garlic fries and lemon slushie (as well as an unexpected swerve toward lobster rolls in the final round). Congrats, Aimee!

This week’s draft is nothing if not seasonal, and it’s equally likely to delight and disgust you: Best pumpkin spice items. Is this a joke? Maybe. Are we about to take our Draft duties very, very seriously? Absolutely.

G/O Media may get a commission

Now let’s cozy up to fall’s coziest flavor.

Marnie: Okay, let’s kick it off with the acknowledgment that Aimee winning the Best Ballpark Food draft is appropriate, since she’s the biggest (only?) baseball fan of the three of us.

Allison: Everybody loves hot dogs.

Marnie: And garlic fries. This Draft will be tough to win people over with. But Allison’s got first crack at it.

Allison: Wait... I have the first pick? I can’t remember the last time this happened! I’m so overwhelmed!

Marnie: Use it wisely

Allison: Alright, so obviously my first pick has to be the iconic pumpkin spice latte. It’s the crossover item that made us a pumpkin-crazy nation.

Marnie: OF COURSE

Allison: Once upon a time, back in the Dark Ages, coffee and pie were two entirely separate things. No one had dreamed they could be together in one cup.

It changed the way we see everything. There would be no Cronut without pumpkin spice lattes. No sushi burritos. Why have one when you can have both?

Marnie: Do you think its popularity is deserved?

Allison: I am a devoted black coffee drinker, and I still get a PSL whenever the first crisp day of fall arrives, and one on Thanksgiving morning.

Allison: I don’t know how anyone could drink them regularly, but they’re a nice treat. And, nowadays, a good reason to get out of the house.

Going out to get a PSL is not an errand. It’s an event.

You need a special outfit that includes a soft sweater, and maybe a scarf. You need to inform everyone you know on social media before, during, and after.

Marnie: That would have been my first pick too. So now I’m in a lurch. But I’ll say Pumpkin Spice Tea. Because we always talk about how it’s really just spices like clove and nutmeg and cinnamon, and those are nice in a warm drink beyond coffee.

This photo of a cheese-stuffed pumpkin in Always Add Lemon is enough to make you kick yourself for…

Allison: You know, I don’t know if I’ve ever tried this. How does it differ from chai?

Marnie: It’s probably just like any number of other warm spiced teas, just with pumpkiny marketing. But Trader Joe’s “Pumpkin Spice Rooibos” tin is adorable, dammit!

Aimee: Of course it is.

Marnie: I fall for it every time. And it’s not as sweet as a PSL.

Aimee: Well, few things are. But maybe if you dumped in a few tablespoons of sugar?

Allison: Or actual pumpkin...

Aimee: That would spoil it! It’s about the SPICE!

Allison: What about blending pumpkin with maple syrup, and putting a spoonful of that in your tea?

Aimee: Huh. That could either be really good or amazingly terrible.

Marnie: TBD.... First pick, Aimee?

Aimee: Pumpkin bread!

Marnie: Oh damn, of course

Allison: There has never been a day where a pumpkin bread has been in front of me and I didn’t eat the whole thing.

Aimee: I especially love the recipe in Joy of Cooking. It’s sweet and spicy and perfect.

Marnie: The “spicy” makes all the difference. I think it should make your nose wrinkle a little.

Aimee: But I also love the pumpkin challah in . I made a couple last week and they make the best French toast.

Allison: I used to make a pumpkin brioche and use it to make bread pudding. It was pretty damn amazing.

Marnie: You were born for this draft

Aimee: I was actually torn between waffles and pancakes, but I love waffles more, so that’s what I’m going with.

Allison: I have not had these either, and am wondering how these particular waffles have been pumpkin spiced.

Is there pumpkin in the batter? Poured on top?

Aimee: In the batter, and mixed with the ginger, cinnamon, and cloves.

Marnie: Does it need cream cheese drizzle on top to really sing?

Aimee: Oooooh, yes, that’s genius!

Allison: I’m thinking of the recipe I did last year for butternut squash pavlova, but making the topping with pumpkin and putting it on a stack of Belgian waffles.

Marnie: Aimee’s double whammy of delicious pumpkin spice carbs has me reeling. How can my second pick compete?

Aimee: I believe in you!

Marnie: I will say pumpkin spice Cheerios. Getting to drink pumpkin spice cereal milk is a lovely way to start the day.

And it’s a nice contrast with all the hot pumpkin spice stuff we usually eat and drink

Allison: Oh GODDAMNIT that was my pick!

Marnie: HA!

Allison: I was apprehensive about buying that, but I had to because of the pumpkin spice bet I have with my husband. When we tried them, the Cheerios made the milk taste like pumpkin pie custard.

Allison: We bought like 20 boxes so we could enjoy them all winter. It was a fine decision.

Marnie: Allison, what’ll you choose now that I’ve swooped into the cereal space?

Allison: I’m going to take pumpkin spice ice cream, much for the reason you picked the Cheerios—it’s a nice cold option, in contrast to the PSL and so many other pumpkin spice’d foods.

Aimee: With caramel sauce and lots of whipped cream! Maybe pecans?

Marnie: Ooo, any particular brand?

Allison: Remember those Talenti layer things I love? They’ve got a pumpkin pie one now with pie crust and stuff.

Marnie: DAMN I want to try that

Allison: What’s also nice: we’re all so ready for fall the second Labor Day is over, but it’s still hot. And even though it’s hot, I’m STILL wearing a cute jacket outside, out of principle.

Marnie: True. We need pumpkiny items for the last legs of summer

Aimee: With the hot sun of summer but the cool breeze of fall...

Allison: I anticipate eating a LOT of ice cream over the next five weeks or so.

Next up: pumpkin pie toaster strudel. You can debate the need for pumpkin spice-anything all you want, but when you see pumpkin toaster strudel, it’s like “this makes perfect sense”

There’s nothing to quibble about. It’s a thing, and it should be a thing.

Aimee: This is true. It’s like a pie.

Allison: If anything, the pumpkin spice latte walked so that pumpkin spice toaster strudel could run.

Aimee: That’s beautiful. Brought a tear to my eye. (Pumpkin spiced tear, of course.)

Marnie: Only major downside of toaster strudel is that you absolutely have to warm it, whereas a Pop-Tart is flexible and can be eaten room temp. But a warm toaster strudel really is amazing

Allison: What I don’t like about pumpkin Pop Tarts is that they should be better. It’s like, if Pop Tarts respected us, it could be amazing. But they don’t. They phone it in.

Aimee: I feel that way about most Pop Tarts.

Marnie: Okay, my third pick might be....controversial. But hear me out: pumpkin pie

Aimee: Ha ha!

Marnie: The original pumpkin spice item

Aimee: It’s true! It’s so obvious, no one even thinks of it anymore. Someone should call it pumpkin spice pie.

Allison: Pumpkin pie is one of my favorite “bed pies.” Have I told you about that concept?

Marnie: Sounds self-explanatory

Allison: I wrote about it a few years ago. It’s essentially a family bonding experience where we all stay in bed and eat an entire pie together from the pan while watching old cartoons, like Garfield’s Halloween and Charlie Brown Thanksgiving. Pumpkin is ideal for this.

Allison: The filling isn’t going to plop out all over the sheets. And the crust isn’t ultra crumbly

Aimee: Ah, yeah, I guess you wouldn’t have bits of fruit falling all over the sheets.

Allison: If made well, you can pick up a slice of pumpkin pie and eat it with your hands. Just like pizza (non-folded, of course). I very much encourage both of you to try this.

Aimee: And you can squirt the whipped cream directly into your mouth. No mess!

Allison: You understand me, Levitt!

Marnie: AIMEE

Aimee: Rolled in lots of cinnamon sugar.

Marnie: STOP TAKING THE GOOD THINGS WHILE I FAIL TO THINK OF THEM

THAT’S....CHEATING, SOMEHOW

Allison: I have not had a good doughnut in a while, and now it’s all I can think about.

Marnie: So just to be clear, we’re not talking about a filled doughnut

More like a cider doughnut, but pumpkinified?

Aimee: Well, I suppose you could... but yes, I was thinking of the cakey doughnuts. I love cider doughnuts so much.

Marnie: Yes please

Aimee: Oh, yes. With a variation for the stove!

Allison: Here’s your variation for the stove: fry it in hot oil just like any other doughnut. There ya go.

Aimee: My next pick is pumpkin spice oatmeal. With lots of brown sugar.

Marnie: Interesting—does it come in that flavor or do you add the spices to make it that way?

Aimee: Quaker does make that flavor, but I’ll bet you could just add the pumpkin spice if you want to do homemade.

My philosophy is that anything that tastes good with cinnamon would also taste good with pumpkin spice.

Marnie: Yes, I can’t imagine anyone being all in on cinnamon but out on nutmeg. Cloves? Mayyyyybe divisive. But it all seems to speak to the same palate

Aimee: Warming spices!

Allison: And it’s coldest in the morning! This is science.

Marnie: How does the pumpkin factor in if you make it yourself? Pumpkin puree right in there with the oats?

Aimee: The beauty of pumpkin spice is that there doesn’t have to be pumpkin. Only spice: the blend of cinnamon, ginger, nutmeg, allspice, and cloves.

Allison: Yup! You can just stir it right in, with a bit of spice, and maybe some maple syrup to sweeten.

Marnie: I’m going to try to court the CPG crowd with a busy, on-the-go pumpkin spice item: the Spiced Pumpkin Pie CLIF Bar

Allison: Never eaten this! I had a Clif bar once in the early 2000s, and that was the end of that.

Marnie: Yeah, you either love them or hate them. I love that they actually feel substantial, like you just had breakfast. Regular granola bars never make me feel that way. And the Pumpkin Pie CLIF Bar comes with a drizzle of icing that, in my opinion, could stand to be paired with a lot more pumpkin spice items.

Pairs great with coffee! People are going to hate me for this but it’s my truth!

Aimee: That’s fine. You have every right to it.

Marnie: Aimee, do you have a firm stance on CLIF bars?

Aimee: I do not because I’ve never had one.

Marnie: I somehow think you’d despise them.

Aimee: I think so, too, which is why I’ve never had one.

Marnie: Last two picks, Allison!

Allison: Alright — my fourth pick is pumpkin butter. What makes this so great is it has the power to make anything into pumpkin spice.

Marnie: Here’s my question with pumpkin butter: what does it work best on? I can never figure out what to apply it to

Allison: You can stir a spoonful into your oatmeal, or put it on ice cream, or into your coffee or tea. Literally anything.

Warm milk! Pancakes! Toast!

Serve it with pork chops, smear it on cookies or graham crackers.

Marnie: Has an application ever failed spectacularly??

Aimee: This is like the shrimp scene in Forrest Gump.

Allison: ^^^and shrimp is a bad place to use apple butter.

But if you don’t know how to restrain yourself when feeding yourself pumpkin butter you should just stop cooking. Let other people do it for you. You can’t be trusted.

Allison: Very! I shared my super-easy apple butter recipe here last fall. You can do that with cubed pumpkin, or canned. As always, just keep an eye on things, because it’s all visual cues on that one. The line between apples and pumpkins in fall desserts is very thin.

I don’t believe that apple butter needs to be a fussy, complicated thing to make. You shouldn’t…

Marnie: That’s a good utility pick and I feel like the voters will reward you for it.

Unless you mess it all up on the last pick.....

Allison: Don’t think I am, because I’m reaching into my personal back catalog again and going with . You know me and pudding.

Marnie: Picking your OWN RECIPE on the final round is A POWER MOVE

Allison: Damn straight it is.

Marnie: I begrudgingly respect this decision

Please tell us what makes it a worthy pick, for those of us who haven’t tasted its majesty yet

Allison: Pumpkin pudding is much creamier and luxurious than pie! And easier to make, in a way. You don’t need to fuss with the oven, and don’t need to worry about making a pie crust. I make a pie crust better than anyone, and honestly do enjoy the process, but it adds a good amount of time to the process.

Sometimes you’re okay with waiting a few hours for pie. And sometimes you’re like “I want pumpkin something within the hour,” and this is what can get you there.

Marnie: A shortcut to immediate pumpkin spice intake is key

Allison: Exactly. There’s a ton of variables I consider when coming up with recipes.

One of them being “how long do I have to wait before I eat this dessert”

Aimee: That’s always an important one.

Marnie: Sometimes you don’t need to consider cook time at all. Because sometimes the thing you want is not edible in the least. Folks, my last pick is a pumpkin spice candle. To make EVERY room in the house smell delicious, not just the kitchen!

Aimee: Ha ha!

Marnie: It is a far-reaching, long-lasting pumpkin spice item. Perhaps the most cost-effective, too.

Aimee: AND if you don’t like pumpkin, it’s still mostly a pleasurable experience.

Marnie: A signal of the changing seasons! Coziness incarnate. People of all palates can agree on smells, can’t they?

Allison: I believe I have at least ten of these in my house right now.

Even if it’s not fall outside, it can be fall inside, whenever you damn well please. You guys need to try lighting up one of those bad boys in April and see how that changes you.

Aimee: As long as they’re not those cinnamon brooms. I don’t know why, but they annoy the crap out of me.

Allison: What are these cinnamon brooms? Another midwest thing?

Aimee: They sell them at Trader Joe’s. They’re in the front where you first walk in, with the pumpkins and the plants, so you can’t avoid them.

Marnie: They look sort of sinister

Aimee: Exactly. They’d be good for witches, but they smell like cinnamon which is somehow not exactly witchy.

Anyway, last pick goes to Aimee! What’s it gonna be?

Aimee: My last pick is... pumpkin spice cotton candy. Mostly because I would really like to find out if you can taste the spices.

Marnie: Does.....does it exist outside of your mind?

This is the first time I’ve really thought about cotton candy having a flavor. Isn’t it usually just sugar, in technicolor?

Allison: I do not like cotton candy, and yet I want to try this.

Aimee: Once I tried a rosé cotton candy and it tasted like rosé if you did the taste equivalent of squinting.

These people are geniuses!

Marnie: I’m excited to let this Takeout Draft loose upon the world.

Aimee: Because no one is tired of pumpkin spice yet!

Who won this week’s Takeout Draft? Vote in the comments.

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leafsbabe · 5 years

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Jeff Skinner - short shifts [smut]

also here is the video in question you should definitely watch it

words: 4.5k

The wind was driving raindrops against the big window of your bedroom and you couldn’t help but relax. These little breaks from all the stress you had faced recently were more than welcome and the weather with it’s monotone gray clouds and it’s steady downpour helped brightening your mood immensely. Since it was a free day for you you decided to not even bother today. Remaining in your pajamas all day and going so far as turning the heating down a bit so you had an excuse to wrap yourself up in the coziest blanket you owned, you rested your back against the wall while sitting on your bed and watched the rain run down your window in a steady stream.

After shuffling all the way over to your kitchen to make some tea you were just on your way back to your cozy nest as the doorbell rang and disrupted the quietness of your apartment. Setting your steaming mug down on the nearest flat surface you walked the few steps to your front door and looked through the peephole since you weren’t expecting anybody. To your surprise you saw a completely drenched Jeff on the other side and had to try really hard to not giggle as a pulled open your door and ushered him inside.

You had barely closed the door before he shook his head, water drops flying everywhere, making you shriek.

“Damn it Jeffrey, when did you become a dog?” You tried to scold him while he laughed. He was dripping wet and you wanted neither your apartment wet nor Jeff getting sick so you lightly shoved his shoulder and made your way towards your bathroom to get him some towels. Once you came back you saw that Jeff still hasn’t moved so you held out the towels for him and once he grabbed them, took your mug and sat down on your sofa, looking up at him expectantly.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” He started unbuttoning his coat and you couldn’t help yourself and called out “Alexa, play careless whisper.” You lightly nodded your head to the music as the provocative tunes flowed through your apartment, grinning as you saw Jeff blush bright red at the implication. You hadn’t known each other for long but in that short time you had established a relationship much closer and comfortable than anybody could have guessed. It had only been a few months since you ran into each other but he was the first person you called to vent to or tell good news and you knew you were his too. The two of you had slept over at each others apartments and even in the same bed and had seen eachother in various states of undress, although more accidentally than not. You would lie to yourself if you said you never thought about Jeff in a sexual way. He was some bonafide hockey beef but you always knew that if you took that step your relationship would change. But oh well, the ball was in his court now and you had to wait and see how he played it.

Unbothered by your mental detour Jeff had finished unbuttoning your coat and was now looking at you with a look on his face you couldn’t quite identify, still bright red. “You really wanna see a show?” He asked, trying to make it sound.. seductive?

You just settled back against the cushions and laughed. “Hit me.”

And well… hit you he did. Taking the sides of his coat he tried to strip it off sexily which didn’t quite work out but still amoused you. Once it was off he turned around, showing you the back of his sweater which looked as if somebody had emptied a bucket over him and his jeans that clung to his, in lack of a better description, fabulous hockey ass, as he showed you the worst twerk attempt you had seen since your coworker Jessica got drunk at the office christmas party. If one of your couch pillows hit him in the back of the head it was only fate, they weren’t called throw pillows for nothing. The next notable sexy in an endearing way mishap happened when he got his head stuck in his sweater and nearly knocked over a vase before freeing himself but after that it was as if something inside him switched. He was still blushing but now his smile was gone and instead replaced by a look of concentration. He bit his lip and ran his hand down his torso, flatting his soaked shirt so his abs were visible in a move that looked right out of Magic Mike, and when he turned around you bit your lip too. You really hoped he wouldn’t notice you pressing your legs a little bit tighter together as you shifted on the couch a bit, trying to lean back and just enjoy the sight in front of you.

Jeff’s movement didn’t match the rhythm at all but you couldn’t help but stare as he pulled his shirt over his head and revealed his body to you fully. His muscles shifted as he moved around and you thought about peppering little kisses all over his abs just to show him how much you appreciated them.

His moves didn’t match the music but you couldn’t help but enjoy the show, even when Jeff attempted to sexily wiggle out of his tight jeans, which should not turn you on but weirdly did. He nearly fell over again but after a short struggle he stood in front of you in just his boxer shorts which, even though they weren’t wet were fairly short, accented his thigh muscles and the noticeable dent in the front.

You were just about to ask him if maybe he wanted to move this to the bedroom, completely fuck over your friendship by fucking you, and then maybe discuss the possibility of this becoming a regular thing when he pulled down the remaining part of his outfit and stood in front of you completely naked.

Your hands flew to cover your eyes in shock although you spread your fingers a bit so you could peak out at Jeff and his… well everything. He was never this bold before and you hoped he would follow it up with another bold move, maybe sweeping you off your feet or ravishing you right there on your couch or at least say something but the confidence in him was slowly but visibly dwindling and so it was your time to do something after leaning back and letting him run wild a bit.

Your hands still covering your eyes you tried to talk as though his nakedness didn’t affect you, the wetness that spread in your underwear might indicate something different but for now you had to put up a composed act. “As much as your boldness charms me Jeff, and you need to 100% trust me when i say i’d love to drag you into my bedroom right now and have my way with you until you’re forced to leave me to go to practice, i think we need to talk about the situation first and maybe fuck afterwards.” You could see him getting redder and redder but he made no attempt to cover himself up. His posture relaxed a bit and you couldn’t help but move the hands covering your eyes a bit until they were also covering your laugh. “And i think it would be better if you were at least partially dressed for that. The sight is… quite a distraction.” You added.

Jeff led the way to your bedroom. He stayed over so much that he had his own drawer by now, and if you took pieces from there from time to time to wear around your apartment it’s nobody’s business. The sweater you wore to bed was one of his too but he didn’t seem to notice it. By the time you had poured your poor cold tea down the drain and joined Jeff in the bedroom he was at least wearing boxers and a thin shirt. He was sitting on your bed and you couldn’t help but think about how he looked like he belonged there.

You sat down beside him and he spread his hand that was resting on the bed a bit until his fingertips grazed your bare leg.

“You wanted to talk?” Jeff asked, leaning back a bit and rested part of his weight on his arms, accidentally showing off his muscles. You bit your lip and waited for him to continue to speak but he just poked your legs with his fingertips.

“About what i said in the living room… I do like you Jeff and i really really wouldn’t mind having sex with you but i’m a bit afraid what it would do to our friendship. You mean a lot to me and i don’t want to fuck that up.”

His fingertips poked your thigh again and you looked up from your lap and to him. He had moved so that he was fully facing you, one bare foot placed on the floor and one angled up on the bed. “I would never ever do something to compromise this friendship but i think there’s no point in trying to tell ourselves that’s all this is. I value you so fucking much and i can’t imagine my life without you in it. I’d like to try this, not just sex but a relationship. You and me. And if that, for some idiotic reason doesn’t work out, we can always go back to being friends. I’m in if you’re in. And if you’re not then i can wait however long you need me to.”

You were moved and tried to come up with a good answer in your head but the way he was looking at you was making it very hard. You were in love and horny and wanted to show the man you loved just how much you loved him. In lack of a better answer you simply leaned forward and connected your lips. There was a 90% chance you and Jeff had made out at least once before while drunk but this was your first real kiss together and it was amazing. His hands found your waist and you couldn’t be bothered trying to sit upright so you just let yourself fall backward, hands coming up to cradle Jeff’s face and gently pull him down with you, all while kissing and dreaming about what’s to come.

Jeff went easily and had no problem following you until you were laying down and he was hovering above you. He threw one of his legs over your legs straddled your lap, giving you just a second to feel his hard dick against your core before he used his hands to push himself up a bit so he was holding himself above you.

You were still holding his face between your hands so he turned his face just enough to press a kiss to your palm before gently leaving your grip and moving his face to your neck. His lips made their way along your jaw before pausing to press another hot kiss to your lips. Jeff concentrated on making out with you for just a minute before his lips left yours again and this time made their way down your neck. His sweater you were wearing only allowed him to follow your smooth skin for a bit but once he reached the end of available surface he suck down harder, at one point even softly biting down. Your fingers found their way to his head again, winding their way through his curls and gently tugging as he worked on covering you with a love bite. The second he was satisfied with his work he sat up, motioning you to follow him up.

His hands ghosted along the hemline of his sweater you were wearing, occasionally touching the soft skin of your stomach. He opened his mouth and you already knew he was going to ask you to remove it so you just took it of in one move, leaving you there sitting bare chested with a fully nude Jeff essentially in your lap.

You felt a little self conscious at Jeff blatant staring, not knowing whether he liked what he saw.

“Hi.”

Jeff smiled at you and you couldn’t help but smile back.

“Hi.”

Soft giggling filled your bedroom alongside the sound of rain as his hands and lips explored your body. His mouth felt even better on your chest than it did on your neck. Jeff wasn’t holding back. He mouthed at your chest and took your nipples into his mouth, letting his tongue play with it. Just having him suck at your breast was a calming feeling and you let your fingers grip his hair and push his face closer to keep him there longer. You finally understood why so many people liked it. Nobody had ever paid such close attention to your chest before but the feeling could only be summed up in warmth...arousal...closeness.

Jeff pressed his hips closer to yours and only now you realized just how wet you were and how hard he was. Suddenly you couldn’t wait to move things along.

“Jeff, do you…” he bit down on your nipple making you gasp, “Do you have a condom?” You were on birth control but didn’t want to risk it, always having two kinds of safety was your rule.

He let go of your chest and rested his forehead on it, groaning into the soft flesh. “Yeah just wait a second.”

He got up and hurried out of the room, presumedly to get a condom out of his wallet and the moment you couldn’t see his nice backside anymore you layd back and took off your sleep shorts and underwear. The cold air hit your soaked center and you couldn’t help but shudder. Maybe you could convince Jeff to do it under the blanket… but you wanted to see all of him so that was out of the question, at least for your first time.

You led your hands wander aimlessly, just touching your breast and you’re stomach without any intend. You were feeling hot and overwhelmed but actually touching yourself would bring you to a finish faster than you’d like. You could hear Jeff make his way back to your bedroom but you couldn’t help chasing that thought.

One of your coworkers had shown you the video of Jeff’s interview in which he admitted to not lasting a long time in bed. It was probably because they thought you were fucking and wanted to rile you up but you couldn’t forget it. The video was like 8 years old and a lot had changed since then. Should you ask Jeff about it? maybe he’d be amused and show you just how good he’d become but he could also get angry and leave. At that moment Jeff came back, triumphantly holding up the little foil package with a big smile on his face. “Got it.”

You wanted to do something to invite him back to you seductively. Maybe slowly spread your legs or beckon him with a finger but before you could decide Jeff had made his way back to the bed and nearly jumped you. Your faces close to each other you couldn’t resist pulling him into a kiss again. This one slower and filled with anticipation.

“So, Jeffrey, tell me…” you whispered against his lips but he cut you off, “Yes? Anything. Everything.” littering little kisses on your jawline.

“Are you used to taking longer shifts nowadays?”

The kisses stopped as soon as these words left your mouth but the initial ‘oh shit’ moment only lasted until his blush intensified all the way down his chest and Jeff rolled over until he was laying on his back and hid his face in his hands. “How do you even know about that?”.

“Coworker showed it to me.” You straddled his waist, his hard cock resting against your ass, as you slowly pried his hands away from his face so he had to look at you. “It’s a cute video. You look so sweet in it. But you’ve grown a lot since then Jeff so answer the question.” You moved your hips just enough to drag against his dick and make him moan. “Are you still taking short shifts off the ice?”

He was still for a moment and you could see that he was contemplating so you stopped moving your hips so he could concentrate. Once he finally spoke he wouldn’t meet you eyes, but instead opted for looking at the ceiling. “That video is so old. I can tell you right now that by the time the video was filmed i could count the times i’ve had actual sex on one hand. I’ve had sex since then, you know.”

You lightly ran your hands up his arms trying to ground him a little. “That didn’t answer my question Jeff.”

“I’m not a two anymore, okay? I’m, i’d say, maybe a three or a four i don’t know. But i know that i’m good in bed. Nobody ever complained. I’ve given girls orgasms before.”

“Nobody said you didn’t, Jeff. You actually helped me over the edge more often than you’ll ever know. But you know there are ways to get you to last longer.” Your hand wandered down his torso, teasing him, until you took him in your hand. “Ways to make an orgasm even more overwhelming too… If you’re up for it. I kind of want to take my time and make you wait.”

You slowly jerked him off, tightening your grip just a tiny bit as you reached the tip before continuing down again. You managed to jerk him a few times before he groaned and bucked up, obviously riled up. He was moaning just a little bit and you could tell he was holding himself back.

“Have you heard about edging, Jeff?” You asked, keeping the rhythm of your strokes even while bringing your other hand up to his chest and lightly running it over the smooth expanse of skin.

Jeff bit his lip and nodded but otherwise kept quiet.

“Would you like to try it?” He moved his head again but before he could nod you lightly pinched one of his nipples. Jeff made a noise between a sharp inhale and a moan and you decided to remember that for another time.

“Please?”

The desperation in his voice made you stop your stop the movement of your hands, overwhelmed by his neediness. This didn’t stop Jeff though as he tried to move his hips up, desperately chasing the pleasure. The second you could feel the way his muscles tightened under you, see the way his eyes lost focus and his hands gripped your duvet tightly you let go of him.

He whined at the loss of contact. He was nearly over the edge but without your touch he couldn’t manage to come.

You waited a few more minutes until his breathing evened out again before caressing his chest again, leaning over him so you could better look him into his eyes. “Okay?”

His voice was still breathy when he answered. „Yeah. You?“

„Oh I’m just perfect. I’m thinking for the next round I want to ride you. But I also kinda want to blow you until you cry. What do you think Jeff?“

The look of pure adoration in his eyes was nearly too much to bear but the mischievous glint accompanying it made you weak.

„I think I’d like you to sit on my face first. But I like your ideas.“

Jeff ate you out like his life depended on it and you were pretty sure he ruined you for any other man. The way he kissed your thighs to rile you up before alternating between broad licks and focusing on your clit. He took his time but managed to bring you close to an orgasm in record time. Your hands couldn’t decide if they should clench the bedding or his hair while your thoughts raced at a thousand miles a minute even though they were nonexistent. Thankfully you hadn’t actually sat down on his face or Jeff would have been squished or suffocated between your thighs. You were nearly there, so close… when Jeff moved away suddenly.

“If i don’t get to come, you don’t get to come either.” He pressed another kiss to the inside of your thighs.

“You’re evil.” You said before getting off his chest and leaning down to press a kiss against his mouth, tasting yourself on his lips.

Jeff leaned up, chasing after you when you pulled away, kissing you again and again before you could finally crawl down the bed until you were facing his v-line. Pressing little kisses all over his skin you were rewarded with Jeff’s sweet giggling.

“You can grab my hair if you want and even pull it a little but please don’t push me down. Oh and want to hear you, i like it when you moan.” Before he could answer you moved the last few inches separating you and tried to fit as much of him in your mouth as you could. You liked the way he felt, warm and heavy and perfect. You weren’t able to take all of him but you didn’t let that stop you, starting to move and bop your head.

Jeff was loud, moaning and whimpering and letting out little breathless words of praise. His fingers were running through your hair, more patting your head than pushing you in any direction. You slowly tried to take more of him every time you went down. Your hands where resting on his thighs, occasionally moving to touch and toy with his balls as you moved your tongue or hollowed your cheeks to suck him harder. You had barely gotten started before you felt Jeff tug on your hair, urging you up.

“What?” You asked, still hovering a bit above his crotch, looking up at him.

His thighs were shaking underneath your hands and you slightly stroked his thigh to calm him down.

“I was close.” He said softly, “I didn’t want to come yet. I want to cum in you.”

Pride filled your heart at those words. “Thank you for telling me Jeff.” You moved up until you could straddle his abs before kissing him again.

It didn’t go further than kissing for a while. Jeff had been close to cumming two times and you wanted to let him calm down first before finishing it. Kissing Jeff felt like coming home in a comforting and overwhelming way at the same time.

He was letting his hands wander over your skin but even when he reached parts you were insecure about you never felt like hiding.

You were too busy sucking a love bite into Jeffs neck to notice stopped his movements and instead he was just laying back and looking at you. He moved a hand to the back of your neck, slowly guiding you up until your lips touched again. When you touched the love bites on his neck he couldn’t help but moan and you felt proud of your accomplishment of marking him up.

Growing impatient you sat up and straddled him again, smiling as you felt his dick hard and hot against your core. “You can come whenever you want, okay Jeff?” One of your hands reached back and took Jeff at the base of his dick. His gasp sounded like music in your ears as you positioned yourself above him and looked down to see his head thrown back, wide eyed and breathless.

Sinking down on him and feeling him stretch you was one of the best things you’d ever felt. Below you Jeff was groaning, gripping the bedding hard enough for his knuckles to turn white as he felt your warmth around him for the first time after thinking about it for so long.

You moved your hips slowly, grinding on him until you felt him hit that spot inside you and deciding to just go for it. You knew he was close and so were you so you didn’t waste any time with pleasantries and exploration - you could do that in round two - and instead focused on the most important thing at the moment, getting off. Jeff’s hand gripped you hips, helping you slam down against him. Movements blurred together and the sounds of your bodies connecting and both of your panting breathless moans became a background noise as you chased your own relief.

You could feel Jeff deep within you hot and hard and so unbelievably good.

You moved faster and faster trying so hard to fall over the edge, desperately trying to finally come only for your wish to be granted when Jeff got his legs in the game, thrusting up while simultaneously pulling you down hitting you deeper than you’d ever imagined causing everything to come crashing down.

Jeff continued fucking you through your orgasm, reaching the peak himself shortly after. Unable to hold yourself up any longer you let yourself fall forward, catching a worn out Jeff by surprise as you cuddled up on his chest, rucking your head under his chin so you could hear his heartbeat. His heart was beating fast but you could feel the way he calmed down over time. He moved his hand to slowly run his hands through your hair.

The two of you just laid there for a while, enjoying the afterglow of your previous adventures. Jeff pressed little kisses to your head from time to time, letting you come back to yourself at your own time.

It wasn’t until a small while had passed, blissful and quiet, that you brought up the thing that had really started everything.

“Well,” you gave his chest an awkward pat, “in my opinion you’re 99% in man points.”

“What? Why not 100%?”

You looked up at him while he looked down at you. It was an awkward angle and made both of you look silly beyond comprehension but you couldn’t help but smile. “Well…. maybe if you stay here and cuddle me you can have your 100%.”

Jeff just gave you a sly grin before pressing a soft kiss against your lips. “Don’t worry, i’m not planning on leaving anytime soon. You’re not going to get rid of me that easily.”

#Jeff Skinner #jeff skinner imagine #hockey imagines #buffalo sabres #hockey smut #hockey imagine #jeff skinner smut #Hockey Players

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dark-sky-seraphim · 4 years

Text

Taking a Chance - Part 8

This is my first WWE fan fiction. First of all, I’m terrible at writing accents so I apologize for not doing so in this story. Second, I’m open to constructive criticism so don’t be afraid to message either this blog or my main blog with any comments, questions, or suggestions (main blog is fallen-angels-and-broken-hunters). You can also find this story on AO3.

Taking a Chance - Part 8

Synopsis: After helping Roman Reigns fend off Drew McIntyre in the ring, you receive a note from an anonymous admirer asking you to meet at the hotel bar after the show. When you arrive, you are met by the one person you never expected to meet.

Pairing: Drew McIntyre x Female!Reader

Word Count: 1,716

Warnings: Some angst, language, mild violence

You take a quick look into the peep-hole. “Damn it, it's Roman,” you whisper to Drew. “He seriously chose to come talk to me now? Awesome timing...”

“It'll be fine,” Drew reassures you with a smile as he ducks into the bathroom and gently closes the door behind him.

You grab a crutch and use it to help you hop to the door. “Hey,” you anxiously greet Roman.

“Hey, Y/N. How're you feeling?”

“Well, physically, I'm exhausted and in quite a bit of pain. Emotionally, I'm still mad at you.” You hop back over to the bed and sit down on the edge again.

“Yeah, I kind of figured you were. Look, Y/N, you were right. I totally lost my mind back there over nothing. It's just...I can't stand Drew.”

“Oh really?” you reply sarcastically. “I hadn't noticed.”

Roman exhales softly. “The point is – I acted like a total jackass tonight and I'm sorry.”

You smile softly at your friend. “You're forgiven...mostly.”

“Mostly?” Roman raises an eyebrow. “What does that mean.”

“I just...I need you to do one little thing for me.”

“And what would that be?”

You gently take Roman's hand and look at him in the eyes. “I need you to apologize to Drew.”

Roman sucks in a deep breath and purses his lips. “You're still insisting that I do that?”

“Yes,” you respond flatly. You continue to look at him in the eyes, a silent plea coming from your own.

“I'm sorry, Y/N,” Roman responds in a frustrated tone. “I really just don't understand why you're being so persistent with this request. I mean, the things he's done to me in the past...why should I suddenly be nice to the guy?”

Your heart begins to race. The moment to tell your best friend about your relationship with Drew has presented itself and you know it's something you absolutely must do. “Right. Um, okay. So, that thing I wanted to talk to you about...”

“Oh, right,” Roman recalls. “What's up?”

“Well...” you hesitate. “Okay, here's the thing...Drew and I are...”

Roman's cell phone begins to ring. He digs it out of his pocket. “It's my wife. Do you mind?” He taps on his phone as you gesture for him to answer the call. “Hey, babe. How's it going?...Uh huh...are you serious?...damn it...okay, my flight leaves early in the morning. I'll make a few calls tonight for you and we'll get things sorted out when I get home...alright...love you too...bye.” He hangs up the phone and sighs in frustration.

“Everything okay, Ro?”

“Yeah, sorry. There's a minor emergency at home. I've gotta go make some calls.”

“Oh, okay,” you reply in disappointment. “I understand.”

“I really want to have this talk, though. I can tell it's important to you. I'll try to give you a call this week if I'm not too busy.”

“Yeah, that sounds good.”

“Well, I'd better get going. Again, I'm so sorry, Y/N.” Roman gives you a hug. “Hope you feel better soon.”

“Thanks. See ya.” You watch as Roman slips out of the room. When the door clicks shut, you groan in frustration. Drew sneaks out of his hiding spot and stand just a few feet behind you.

“You're going to tell him about us, aren't you?”

“I have to,” you admit. “before either of you does something stupid.”

“Honestly, that's fair,” he assures you. “Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go get my things. I'll be right back.”

After Drew leaves you hobble around the room, getting yourself ready for bed. The events of the day have completely exhausted every bit of energy you had. You change into your coziest leggings and a slightly over-sized t-shirt then crawl into bed. As you wait for Drew to return, you catch up on texts and emails then browse the internet. You feel your eyes growing heavy so you set an alarm and place your phone on the nightstand next to you. Just as you shut your eyes, Drew stumbles through the door with his suitcase.

“Hey, what took you so long?” you question with a yawn.

“Well, I, uh, ran into Roman in the hall. Thought I'd take a moment to say my apologies.”

“Your eyes widen. “Really? How'd that go?”

Drew exhales sharply. “About like you'd expect. He couldn't have been more hostile about it.” He sets his suitcase down on the large desk in the corner of the room. He digs around for a change of clothes. “I'm pretty sure he didn't believe my sincerity...and I'm extremely positive I heard him call me a dick under his breath as he walked away.”

You roll your eyes. “Of course.” You run your hands through your hair. “Why does he have to be so damn prideful?”

Drew chuckles as he slips his shirt over his head. “You really think it's pride that makes him act like that?”

“Uh, well...” you trail off as Drew takes off his jeans and changes into a pair of sweatpants. The brief sight of Drew in nothing but his boxer shorts made your mind go blank.

“Y/N?” Drew regains your attention. “You alright?”

You smile sheepishly. “Yeah. I was just a bit...distracted just then.”

Drew smirks as his cheeks burn red. “Darling, you've seen me in my wrestling trunks a million times. How was this any different?”

“Well, it wasn't, really...if you know what I mean.”

A cheeky grin appears on Drew's lips. He swiftly climbs into bed and scoops you into his arms. He playfully nips at your neck and traces little kisses along your jaw.

“Drew, stop that!” you giggle.

He places a few more kisses along your cheek before he stops and gazes lovingly into your eyes. “I love you,” he whispers confidently.

“I love you, too,” you say back to him with the biggest smile on your face.

Drew kisses you more passionately than he ever has before. Your heart pounds in your chest. There is an immense amount of excitement that Drew's kiss stirs up from within you. Being with him has made you happier than you've felt in years. When Drew breaks the kiss, he lays down beside you and you cozy up to him. You rest your hand on his chest. The two of you say nothing as you take in the moment and drift off to sleep.

***

The following week is a struggle for you. Drew's work commitments keep him on the road for the whole week so that leaves you at home alone. You spend as much time as you can doing the therapy exercises the medics suggested you do in order to help your ankle heal. Other time is spent attempting to do housework. You Face-time with Drew when you know he's not working just to talk about your day and to let him know you're doing alright. You also attempt to call Roman a few times but always end up getting his voicemail. He finally sends you an apologetic text at the end of the week to let you know that he's still too busy to have that all important conversation.

Finally, Monday comes around. You no longer need to use your crutches to get around as you are able to put all of your weight back on your ankle. There is still pain but it isn't as intense as it was at the beginning of the week. You make the trip to Phoenix, Arizona for Monday Night Raw. Of course, you still aren't cleared to wrestle, but you're being allowed to cut a promo to call out Charlotte Flair for some of the crap she's been pulling in the women's division. After you get your hair and makeup done, you head down the hallways backstage towards the camera crew.

“Hello, gorgeous,” a familiar, sultry voice beckons to you. You turn slowly to see Drew, in his gear, leaning enticingly against the wall. He motions for you to come to him then pushes himself off the wall. You smile and quickly walk straight into his now open arms. He proceeds to hold you tightly close to him. “How are you, love?”

“Right now? Amazing.” You stand on your tiptoes and give Drew a loving kiss. “I missed you so much.”

“I missed you, too. And I hated not being able to take care of you. But I'm glad to see you've made progress with that ankle. How does it feel?”

“I'd say I'm about halfway to being healed. It still hurts but it's nothing I can't manage.”

Drew leans in close to you. “Did you get to talk to Roman at all?” he whispers.

You sigh. “No. He was just too busy. Which sucks because the longer we keep putting this off the more nervous I get to talk to him about it.”

“Don't worry, love. You'll get your chance.” He places a kiss on your forehead. “Now, I apologize, but I need to head off for my match.”

“Good luck,” you call to him as he makes his way to the gorilla.

You head in the opposite direction and find the camera crew. They have everything set up and ready to go for your live promo. You mumble out an idea of what you're going to say to Charlotte then sit in the chair in front of the camera. The crew gets into position. The camera rolls. The words flow effortlessly from your mouth as you take a few nasty stabs at Charlotte's pride. As quickly as it began, the cameras cut. When the crew gives you the all clear, you thank them for their help.

“Y/N?!” you suddenly hear someone calling frantically from down the hall. You look past the crew to see Becky running towards you. “Y/N, come quick,” she pants when she finally approaches you.

“What? Why?”

Becky grabs your arm. “Just come with me. Please,” she pleads.

You chase after her as quickly as you can. The serious tone in her voice has you panicked. “Becky, please will you tell me what's...” You stop dead in your tracks when you catch sight of one of the backstage monitors. “Oh my God,” you whisper, absolutely gutted.

You watch in horrified agony as Roman repeatedly beats Drew down in the middle of the ring with a steel chair.

Part 7

#wwe #drew mcintyre x reader #reader insert #fanfic

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rickssugarplum · 5 years

Text

Total Ricklipse of the Heart

This one I made super quick in celebration of the lunar eclipse. Hope you like it guys! ❤

(Rick C-137 x Reader) SFW, Lunar Eclipse, Sky Gazing, Fluff

You and Rick are watching the lunar eclipse together on a beautiful night.

Where is he? He said he was gonna be here! We’re gonna miss it!

These thoughts were going through your paranoid mind as you were waiting nervously for Rick’s arrival. You had already told him you wanted to share this moment with him; to watch the lunar eclipse. It happens every once in a great while and this is the first time you get to really witness something so natural yet extraordinary. And who better to do it with than a man who takes pride in everything to do with science, including space. However now you were wondering whether or not it was a good idea to wait for him cause now you were too worried about missing the entire thing. It was getting darker, and nature never waits. Goddamnit, he better get here quick!

Almost as if he could read your mind, which you wouldn’t put past him, you heard the ripple of his portal forming to your room. Right on cue, Rick entered through.

“Heyyyooo. Sorry I’m late.” he apologized half-heartedly. You were relieved to see him finally arrive, but you were still a bit steamed for making you worry.

“I was starting to think you wouldn’t even show up.” you said, arms folded to your chest. You tried to make yourself look pissed off, since you were, but Rick was never one to take it seriously.

“I’m sorry babe!” he snickered, hands in the air. “I’m here now, I know you wanted to see the eclipse! You’d think I’d leave you hanging?”

You really didn’t want to argue. At this point, you were just glad he kept his promise to come by to watch with you. Rick knew as well as you did, that he has seen some of the most amazing things in space, to the point where watching a lunar eclipse was the equivalent of watching paint dry. Despite that, he still respected your wishes to look at it with you. And you had to be thankful for that at the very least.

“Okayy, I forgive you.” you proclaimed, slight grin on your face, “Now let’s go outside before we miss it!”

Pulling his arm, you cheerfully ran for outside, Rick was behind you, amused at your enthusiasm. Once you were out the door, you were both welcomed by a dark blue night sky, glittered with twinkling stars, and a large illuminating moon, front and center. You were still on time. Your eyes almost mirrored the stars that graced the sky as Rick had grabbed a special box from his pocket, which had a large red button on top. Once he had pressed the button, you were spooked for a second when a generous amount of blankets had formed from inside it. Your lawn sprawled by them, you were so happy to see that Rick wanted to make this little occasion even more special. You both sat down on one of the blankets, and the rest were for you both to cuddle up in. Suddenly, you felt one settle on your shoulders, as Rick had seemed to give you the coziest of them. Wrapping himself up in one too, he then placed his arm on your shoulder. You leaned yourself on him and feeling even warmer with the help of his body. Closing your eyes, you took a deep breath and took in his scent, He smelled of chemicals and alcohol, but you didn’t mind. It had become so comforting to you.

“We’ve got a damn good view tonight,” he said softly. You have been keeping your eyes on the moon just enjoying it’s beauty. It’s been awhile since you really looked at it. It’s always there in the night. But times like this, was a good reminder to appreciate the beauty in everything that comes with life, no matter how often we see it.

“Yeah...It’s beautiful...” you said. Leaning in closer to Rick, you were anticipating the wonderful moment.

For a good while, you both didn’t say a word. The only sounds you heard were of crickets chirping and the light sound of Rick’s breathing. As time went on, you had slowly started to notice the moon was slowly disappearing into the dark. You knew what that meant. You softly gasped.

“Rick! It’s happening!” you beamed to him.

‘Yep. In a while, the moon will enter into the penumbra. And once it joins in the umbra, those shadows combined gives it that deep red color you’ll see there That’s where the term “Blood Moon” comes from.” he explained.

Time was becoming painstakingly slow. You were almost getting impatient at the process, but you held Rick a little tighter and it soothed your nerves. Without blinking, you watched as it happened. The moon was aligning with the sun and the earth, and had ascended to a bright, passion filled red joining all the stars what welcomed them. It was almost magical. In your head, you could almost hear music. The scenery was absolutely perfect. In the night, bright red moon, stars twinkling, covered in blankets with the man you adored more than any other.

“Oh my god...” you breathed out. The words had had left your mouth. You almost didn’t know what to say.

“Was this how you wanted it, baby?” he softly asked.

Suddenly, you felt your eyes start to tear up. Everything about what was happening was almost a dream come true. While it was something many others would consider small, this was something that was so big for you. You never had anyone by your side to witness a beauty of nature with you before Rick. But right now wasn’t the time you would explain to him. You simply wrapped your arms around his neck, his body warming up yours.

“It’s everything I ever wanted,” you whispered.

He wrapped his arms tighter around you as you continued to watch the eclipse unfold.

While you had been enticed by the red shade in the sky, you didn’t realize that during most of the eclipse, Rick had his eyes on you. He was entranced and humbled by your wide eyes as you gazed up in childlike wonder. He has seen eclipses of all types of moons and suns. But to him, a glimpse of you was more enchanting than any form of life in the sky.

❤

#rick sanchez x reader #rick x reader #rick fangirl #rickssugarplum

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hel-is-makingstuff-blog · 5 years

Text

Sloth in Soho-Ch.2

Aziraphael stayed frozen in the porch for what seemed like an eternity after the door swung shut behind him, fighting off the sense of dread that came when something so perfectly cliche happened in real life. Well then. That was...something.

He cleared his throat and pulled at his tie on impulse, straightening it then un-straightening it in the same fiddly movement. “Crowley?” He called, willing his voice to not come out as a hissing, soft shout and, instead, something that would carry more. He wasn’t afraid. He was NOT afraid. There was nothing to be afraid of. In fact, if not for the hurricane of second hand emotions buffeting him, he would say that nothing was wrong. Crowley had made quick, efficient work of his move, it seemed. There was a new paint, new hardwood, new everything smell hanging heavily in the air along side a tingle of infernal miracling. A whole renovation done in twenty-four hours. Crowley’s rather perfectionist, efficient nature when it came to his living space was on full display. He moved from the porch, mindful to toe off his shoes lest the demon bark at him for tracking in dirt, and into the home. He had never been inside when the original owners resided here. He had only knew them threw casual interactions and his own angelic prowess. He imagined it would be dated in the same way his own flat was. Perhaps it had been yesterday. The space was currently quite trendy, like he had stepped into the world’s coziest discotheque. The floors were so spotless he could see his reflection in the dark wood and the furniture occupying the main living area was made with rich, jewel toned velvets that looked inviting and sleek at the same time. His fingers twitched with an urge to run his hands over the fabric and test whether they were as luxurious as they appeared to be. The light fixtures, though off, seemed to be of the ultra-modern, chrome, dimmable sort. Perhaps they were ‘smart lights’ or whatever they were called. Crowley had seemed quite keen on the ‘smart house’ concept when they were talking about his plans. Magic without magic, he had called it, grinning and tipsy, sprawled across a stack of Aziraphael’s uninventoried books. (Fetching, Aziraphael had thought in that moment. Then, just as soon as the thought had entered his rather inebriated headspace, he banished it. Crowley was always fetching. He excelled at being fetching and the man knew it. He didn’t need him to tell him that. So he didn’t.) A cursory glance around the first floor revealed more of Crowley’s surprisingly tasteful decor choices but nothing of the man himself. Second floor it was, then. Ascending the stairs proved to be more of an endeavor than the angel could have ever expected. Crowley was definitely up there if the sudden wall of emotion that struck him was anything to go by. His stomach twisted so violently that, if he had been human, he surely would have not only vomited but passed out as well. As it were, though, it only set him springing upwards, taking the steps two at a time. Wrong, wrong, wrong. Something was wrong. His other wordly blood was boiling in his veins. The last time he had felt this kind of reaction was when Satan burst through the ground and fixed them all in his gaze. Some foul plan was afoot and Crowley was at the center. He hoped he was not the cause. No. Crowley was good at his core. He would never intentionally hurt himself or others. He hoped.

He found the bed room on the first try, throwing the door open dramatically like some kind of pulp hero. For a moment he felt let down, his shoulders sagging with just as much drama. Crowley was sleeping so soundly that he didn’t even stir when the door hit the wall, cracking the plaster. There was no obvious threat within sight. Aziraphael was berating himself for his overreaction and preparing to fix the damage-then it hit him again. That barrage of rapid fire, overly intense feelings. Crowley was having a nightmare. Fascinating! He knew the demon enjoyed his ‘beauty sleep’ but he had never mentioned anything about dreaming. Perhaps it was something that only demons could do? Or...only Crowley? Perhaps any otherworldly being could do it but they never did because sleep was not truly needed. Heaven knows it had never been something he indulged- Another wave brought his thoughts up short and redirected his attention back to his sleeping companion. Crowley’s smooth brow and slack jaw held no sign of the distress he was experiencing. If Aziraphael wasn’t tuning into the evidence first hand he would have believed nothing to be wrong. It couldn’t be allowed to continue, though. The demon may wake up cross with him but that was better than the hurt he was enduring. Aziraphael would weather his sour mood and offer to take him to brunch when his fit wore down. “Crowley, dear,” he called gently, approaching his bedside and daring to place a hand on a slender shoulder. “It’s time to wake up.” Nothing. Not even a flinch. This was not the first time Aziraphael had caught the demon napping and he knew for a fact that he was easy to rouse. Typically he’d make production of stretching and blinkingly blearily up at him with a peculiar expression that the angel was never quite able to decipher before asking what day it was and looking put off that he’d been woken up early. When he was up, he was up, though. There was a feeling like ice water in the lungs building in Aziraphaels chest. Before he could even reconsider he was kneeling on the bed, nearly straddling the sleeping man, and shaking him. “Crowley! For Heaven's sake, Crowley!” His voice was pitched with a budding panic. Crowley was limp in his hands, a rag doll to be tossed about. If it weren’t for the periodic darting beneath his eyelids and the warmth he radiated he would have thought him dead. The thought sent a fresh jolt of alarm coursing through his body. It was irrational, of course! Nothing short of a bucket of holy water could kill his friend and they had seen to it that no one would give that a try anytime soon. Besides, he was right here. Everything was fine. Well, physically it was. What was he to do? There was most certainly something foul afoot but what it was he simply didn’t know. It was unlikely he’d receive any aid if it was requested. Heaven still sent him their missives and he did his duty in the Almighties name but his fellow angels had taken to treating him like an aberration since the HellFire incident went awry for them. He had a good laugh when Crowley recounted it all to him but now...well, it certainly made it difficult to ask for assistance. Not that they would come. What was he going to say? ‘Hello Gabrielle! Sorry for that end of the world business but I could really use a hand with my dear Crowley! You remember him right? Handsome chap with the glasses? Demon?’ As Crowley had once said, that would likely go over like a lead balloon. He doubted that he’d get any help from Crowley’s side for the same reasons. Not that he really wanted to ask. Certainly if any demon caught wind of his dear friends current state they would quite literally seize the opportunity with both hands and throttle him! Not that he’d let them. No. He’d never let them. He’d smite the lot if they even tried, paperwork be damned! That left only himself. “Our Side.” He’d have to muddle his way through this. He’d have to reach in without Crowleys explicit permission and suss it all out. It was the best course of action. Yet it felt so very wrong. Switching bodies had been done consentingly and they had both agreed back then that they wouldn’t invade each other’s private thoughts through that connection. It certainly wouldn’t be welcome now that they were themselves again. Tentatively he reached out his aura, opening himself up to Crowley, testing the waters. He had been near sickened on the stairs by the waves emotion he felt and he had been mostly closed off then. Now, with the doors opened a crack, he could feel more, see more. The way Crowley’s aura flared as brightly as the sun only to dim as if snuffed out the in the next second. A terrible seesaw of conflicting emotions that was distressing for the angel to interact with. He threw himself wide open to it. He’d not cower in the face of this. Crowley had done stupid, dangerous things over the millenia for Aziraphaels sake. How could he hesitate any longer when faced with the evidence of his dearest friends agony? How could he even call himself his dearest friend if he did not do that for him? It was on that soul steeling thought that Aziraphael let himself be fully swept up by the demon and pulled into him. Invasion or privacy or no, he’d figure this out and face Crowleys anger later. He prayed he’d forgive him.

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Strangely enough, Aziraphael’s sense of smell returned to him before his sight or hearing. He could smell fresh stardust and void, the scents of brand new universe. It stirred something in his heart he hadn’t felt since he left Heaven to guard Eden. Could it be…?

Yes! His hearing and sight came back together and he was blessed with celestial harmonies being sung from a distance and the great, velvety black expanse of the universe. This wasn’t Heaven. This was the place that existed above and below and to the sides of all existence, where stars were hung and galaxies born. Except there was very little of either, at the moment. Every now and then a light would flicker on, light years away or color would bloom. This was the Beginning. The time before Earth. The time before Heaven was called such. Before the Rebellion. Before Angels had names. This was the time when they all had one goal and one love: Please the Almighty, their Creator, and follow Her instructions to make all this void into something beautiful.

He hadn’t been one those to decorate the cosmos. It was something he watched from afar with delight as he basked in Her words and love. Actually, now that he allowed himself to think about it, he hadn’t really had a job before he was given his sword and told to fight in the Rebellion. Giving himself a shake of the head, he cleared his thoughts of nostalgia. This wasn’t real. This was a dream. A sense of astoundment overcame him as he remembered that. This was a dream. Crowley’s dream. There he was. Red hair that fell in perfect, loose ringlets past his shoulder blades, standard issue white, linen robes wrapped about his slender frame, and brilliant white wings tucked tightly to his back as he floated aimlessly in the rich darkness of the void, a finger pressed to his lips and his brows knit in unexplained consternation. Aziraphael’s heart give a rather alarming lurch in chest. A part of him always wondered about Crowley before the Fall. It was a period of time that the demon refused to speak about. Well, except for that one time when they were polishing off their second bottle of red wine at the shop and Crowley began flipping through books of astronomy. “Oi! That’s one of mine!” He had declared in drunken delight upon seeing a grainy photo of a nebula. He had clammed up when pressed and never spoke of it again leaving Aziraphael desperately curious. “Crowley!” He called and flew forward. Oh! He hadn’t even realized his wings were out. He didn’t have time to question it as he was finding it difficult to make any kind of head way. There was a pressure that made it nigh impossible to move his wings, like he was flying through a thick custard. His progress was painfully slow and inexplicably exhausting. “I’m here! Just...wait!” He didn’t know what he was telling him to wait for. Indeed, there seemed to be nothing happening to cause the former angel any kind of distress.

Crowley continued to look out into the void, seemingly not hearing him. At times tilting his head to the left or right as if to get a better angle on the blackness and tapping his finger to his pursed lips in thought. Oh how Aziraphael wished he could see the man’s eyes! Not only would they satiate his own curiosity as to what God had bestowed on him at the Beginning but they would also tell a story. Crowley tended to be rather expressive, sans sunglasses, something he was sure the man knew. Crowley spread his wings and arms slowly, as if stretching out some kink in his celestial body. Then he was in motion, waving his hands gracefully like the conductor of a great symphony, summoning saturated scarlets, brilliant blues, vivid violets, and just a touch of turquoise. He swirled and mixed, swayed and bowed, utterly lost in his work. Aziraphael could only stare, mouth agape, as a nebula he had never known to exist took shape.

Stunning. Absolutely stunning. He had an appreciation and love for all creation but, in that moment, he loved this more than anything else. It reeked of a passion that was denied most angels, a wildness that he thought unknown back then. Just as quickly as it started it was done and Crowley was back to sitting in the void, studying his handiwork. No matter the time period, Aziraphael knew when his friend was dissatisfied. Why he should be he had no idea. This was a marvellous creation! He never took Crowley for a painter but now he wondered if he had ever picked it up in the past six thousand years. It would probably be a good outlet for him. He’d have to suggest it when everything was better. “It’s beautiful, Crowley,” he tried, hoping his voice carried over the distance between them. He had never meant anything more in his life. Crowley didn’t react. He merely kept looking. Aziraphael was growing irritated. What was he to do if he couldn’t make Crowley hear him? Why was this memory causing him such distress and what did it have to do with his continued slumber? The nebula was wiped from existence with a sudden violence that sent the angel reeling. What in heaven’s name-?!

Crowleys wings were fluffed up, his hand extended, teeth bared. “That’s not the best I can do,” he hissed to himself, angrily. “Amateur. Not worthy of notice. I shall never be seen with a production like that.” There was a fire in his primary feathers, a blackening at the very quills. Crowley showed no sign of noticing but Azirphael could feel the anger reverberating in the space around them. The frustration was palpable, a toxic kind of pride shattering the serenity of the void, quite literally splintering it. The heavenly chorus is the distance was warping like one was attempting to play a warped vinyl record. There was a hint of brimstone in the air. A new nebula, more gaudy and brilliant than the last, was created only to be destroyed. Again and again. A Sisyphean task of Crowley’s own creation that Aziraphael was helpless to-

No. To say he was helpless was akin to despair. If he despaired there would be no one left to help Crowley. He needed to break this down, part by part, determine the core issue, and proceed in some way. This was...what? Crowley didn’t feel like he was doing well enough. No. Simpler. Crowley wanted to be noticed? Simpler again. Crowley was...Crowley was…. Prideful. He wanted to be prideful and be noticed for his efforts. He wanted this nebula to be the best version of itself so everyone would look at it and say ‘Crowley made that!’ Yet he couldn’t find peace. It wasn’t good enough. The nature of this unending night was that it would never be good enough for the Almighty or himself. Aziraphale found in himself a new strength and pushed forward towards his increasing frantic friend, wings straining with the effort and hand outstretched. Just a little further. Just-just a little--! His fingers wrapped firmly about the man’s thin wrist, bringing his frenzied movements to a sudden halt. For the first time since he entered this space Crowley was aware of him. Crowley was looking at him with eyes that simply were not there. Oh goodness. Oh oh oh! It was all the angel could do not to recoil in horror. Instead he smiled his gentlest, most reassuring smile, unsure if it could even be seen. “My dear, what a beautiful thing you’ve made. Truly, I’ve never seen anything quite so stunning,” he soothed, stroking the demons ego and meaning every syllable. It felt strange to compliment him like this. He was normally trying to encourage humility but...Crowley had been prideful since the beginning, apparently. Maybe, just maybe, validation would act as a balm to his soul. Crowley gaped for a moment. “...Angel…?” He began, confusion etching lines across his face. “It...it’s just like the other ones….” “Not so!” Aziraphael vehemently reassured, using his contact with the demon to lever himself closer, bringing his body near flush to Crowley’s own. He tried to wrap him up in a feeling of well being. “You’ve done quite well.” Validation truly was medicine to the former angel. Even this simple acknowledgment snuffed the fire in his wings. He looked away, colour staining his cheeks. “It’s...not perfect yet.” “It will never be!” Aziraphael declared cheerily. “Isn’t that better though? Nothing in creation is perfect. Nothing is as we expect it to be. This is beautiful because you made it, my dear. I should very much like it if you left it as is so I might always enjoy it.” These words had a profoundly humbling effect of Crowley. Aziraphael couldn’t guess at the thoughts that were running through his head but a sensation of second hand satisfaction and...and something else coursed through him.

Crowley was smiling a distinctly Crowley smile, slitted yellow eyes focused on him. Actually, Crowley looked like Crowley as he had always known him, black wings and all. Aziraphaels tender heart flipped. This kind of open expression was rare and, therefore, precious. “Suppose I can’t deny you it, then,” Crowley intoned with a smirk. It seemed he was going to say more but at that very moment it all went pear shaped. The universe inverted, fissures spreading in the dark. There was a very real physical push against his very being that sent him tumbling, arse over tea kettle, back and back and back through space- -and off the side Crowley’s bed where he was laid. Still sound asleep.

#good omens #crowley #aziraphale #ineffable husbands #fanfic #fan fiction

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saintcheesus · 5 years

Text

@failedmy-tbtest requested some Charles/Reader action! I hope you enjoy :)

NSFW/SMUT ahead!!!

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They’d been separated from the rest of the gang for hours. Somehow, through all the bullets flying and law that was chasing them, Charles and (Y/N) ended up heading in the same direction during the escape. They ran until their horses were bucking them off out of a desperate need to catch their breaths. They headed on foot the rest of the way after letting their horses breathe and stopped when they saw an abandoned cabin along a string of what looks like a rundown farm. Empty, dead quiet. (Y/N) too tired to care started leading her horse toward it.

“What are you doing? You don’t even have your gun out!”

It was the first time Charles spoke more than three words in all the time they were travelling. She thought it was a shame however, that she had to hear his gorgeous baritone whenever he was nagging her. Sure the advice helped, but he didn’t have to nag, and it made it extra confusing when he only did to her. She rolled her eyes and turned her head without stopping her meandering to the cabin.

“So I can shoot a ghost? I’m about close to knocking out cold from sleep, Charles. (H/N) can’t walk for too much longer no more, and Taima ain’t much further from that neither. If you so worried you take your gun out.”

They’ve usually bickered like this before but she wasn’t lying when she told him she was bone tired. She was already having trouble sleeping before the robbery, she always had some anxiety about upcoming heists. There was always a chance someone could die. Her heart always jumped a little more when she thought about losing Charles during a job. He was always on the frontlines, wedged right in between Sadie and Arthur whenever there was a shoot-out, and besides John, it made sense. Those four were the best shots in the gang. Best shooting skills in the West or not, it always made her fumble when she thought about him getting caught in the cross-fire. She was relieved to see him running with her down the same path when they were fleeing, but she was tired, hungry, and worried about the others so now wasn’t the best time to pick a fight with her about her gun.

Charles stomped ahead of her with his shotgun out, Taima drifting to (Y/N)’s horse lazily after her owner let go of her reins. He opened the door and then took cover in the entrance. She didn’t hear any gunshots and she didn’t see Charles ducking from any.

“No one’s here, Charles! I already told you that.”

He just grunted and holstered his gun before coming back to his horse. He pet her head softly and whispered words of encouragement to her. Taima’s ears twitching happily and her eyes closed in what (Y/N) can only describe as fondness. Her heart fluttered at the sight and she found something like a smile gracing her face even after the rough events of the day. They hitched their horses up and walked inside the dusty and shabby cabin.

“Not the coziest abode but I reckon we can bunker down here for the night. Head towards camp in the morning.”

Charles wasn’t the most chipper out of the gang members, but even by looking at his face she could tell that he was upset. Irritated mostly. He’d been tense since they left the bank, quiet even by his standards. She’ll be honest she never seen Irritated Charles before but she equal-parts disliked it but found it the tiniest bit arousing. But then again a lot of the things he did usually ended up with her touching herself in her tent. Not like she’d ever tell him all that. Especially not with the attitude he was sporting right now.

“Not like we have much of a choice.”

Her eyebrow twitched. She let it go and slid down the wall to sit down and closed her eyes. She could honestly fall asleep right there and it looked like Charles read her mind as well.

“Why are you sleeping on the floor when there’s a bed right there?”

She opened one eye and followed the man’s finger to the dingy bed in the corner of the cabin. Her eye went back to Charles.

“I weren’t going to fall asleep here, thank you very much.”

“Your eyes were closed.”

“Yeah but did you hear me snoring? Was my head lolling about?”

Charles hand shook and his eyes narrowed before he threw both his hands in the air and walked away.

“You know what, I’m not going to argue this with you, do whatever you want.”

“That’s the first time you said something I liked, Charles!”

She half meant it as a joke but when she got a good look at him and saw that he was actually irritated with her, her mood soured considerably. She opened both her eyes and stood up.

“And might I ask why you got such a problem with me right now? If you mad about the robbery going wrong that’s fine but you ain’t right to take it out on me Charles, now if I did something you ain’t agree with, you best tell me now!”

“Or what?”

(Y/N) put her hands on her hips and gave him the nastiest look she could.

“I’ll leave and I’m dead serious.”

She saw the way his face dropped at the threat. He looked like he wanted her to be bullshitting, baiting him into an argument, but she was entirely serious about leaving. Even if she was on the verge of hibernation and the dead of night. She didn’t need to be holed up in a cabin with him if he was going to be short with her all night. It honestly hurt more than it made her angry, but she didn’t want Charles to see that. When he failed to reply quick enough she started marching toward the door, hearing him calling after her name absent-mindedly before coming to his senses and coming towards her.

“(Y/N)…please wait. You were right…I’m starving. Please stay and eat with me and I promise I’ll get my act together.”

He seemed honest and slightly panicked at her attempted exit. She was hungry too, and maybe he was right about them eating first before they started arguing again. They were sharing a dinner of beef jerky and beans and nearly done with their meal before she spoke.

“You ready to tell me why you was catching a fit today?”

His eyes were reluctant to look into her (E/C) ones. He picked at the food with his fork and drummed at the table with his free hand. She smiled, it was kind of cute to see him like that.

“You almost got shot.”

She looked at him a little disappointed at his words.

“Uh, yeah. Kind of a constant in this line of work, Charles.”

A breath of laughter but he shook his head.

“No, I mean today during the robbery. If Dutch hadn’t seen the lawman pointing his gun at you when we left the bank you would have been shot, and...”

“And what?”

“…I was worried.”

She didn’t think that would come out of his mouth. He always seemed more frustrated with her than he did worry. But then if he was always nagging then maybe that was him showing that all along? She nearly dropped the fork.

“Charles Smith…”

“You were distracted during the shoot-out and you almost died! Why weren’t you paying attention?”

“Because I was looking to see if you was alright you big idiot! You think I don’t get mad seeing you throw yourself into the bullets all the damn time! You human just like the rest of us and people would miss you something awful if you died!”

“Like who?”

“Like me!”

(Y/N) was standing up now, she didn’t think before she said it, but it’s been said now and there was no going back. They would either spend the rest of the night in awkward silence or they could act on whatever was lingering between them. Charles was looking at her like he had been struck by lightning and suddenly she felt her cheeks get hot. She coughed and sat back down, picking up her can of beans and forking it around. She felt Charles’ hand rest atop hers and she made careful eye contact with her. Silently, he rubbed his thumb on her hand and stood up to kiss her on her forehead. She felt like they were young children.

“I’m about ready to call it a night, what about you?”

Charles hesitated and looked toward the door.

“Someone….someone should keep watch, just in case.”

“Charles, ain’t no one coming! We need sleep more than anything if we’re to go back to the camp in the morning. Now come get in the bed with me!”

“But…there’s only one.”

“I’m not that big, and the beg looks big enough to hold the two of us. It’s only for one night.”

Charles thought for a longwhile before he finally agreed to share the bed. They both got settled on the bed. Both were still wearing their clothes but shed their bandoliers and weapons, placing them beside the bed for quick access. Charles was sleeping against the wall and (Y/N) was facing the entrance. She had her eyes closed but she certainly wasn’t sleeping, and she hoped Charles wasn’t either. She pressed her ass against his crotch, and felt herself being poked in return. She rubbed against his jeans and was surprised when she found his arm draped around her waist, pulling her closer and feeling him grinding on her behind. He grunted and that’s when she let out a stifled moan. His other arm, with difficulty, moved under her ribcage as she was now enveloped in his embrace and grabbed at her boob.

The hand that was draped over her waist was now snaking its way into her pants. He unbuttoned her jeans and she shivered when she felt his cold hand travel inside. She moaned louder this time when she felt his finger graze over her clit. He laughed and started peppering kisses alongside her neck and the top of her shoulder. When his fingers went back towards her clit again she gasped and rolled over so that she could be face-to-face with him. Just as he was doing to her, she dove into his jeans and grabbed his erect member, slowly working her way up and down while kissing him deeply. When they broke apart for air, she bared his neck to him and his kisses trailed down the perfect length of it.

“You know I always heard you.”

Through pants she responded, “What?”

“I could hear you everytime you touched yourself at night. The way you’d moan my name when you thought we were all asleep. I’ve always wanted to come into your tent whenever I heard you, but I didn’t know how.”

“Well you’re doing just fine now; oh lord…”

Charles’ fingers started to rub at the spot she reacted to and if she was being honest, it had been a very long time since she been with anyone so she extra sensitive tonight. Charles moans made it harder for her not to cum too quickly. Her hand squeezing and pumping at his large dick, the feeling of him twitch and come undone made her wetter and easier for him to enter his fingers inside of her. Charles had since moved to her tits, sucking at them like a newborn infant eager for milk. She bucked her hips again and again, feeling his fingers go deeper with each thrust. She felt the precum oozing from his cock, the lubrication making it easier for her to rub at the head and jerk him off without friction. His hips were thrusting into the wanking and she loved the fact that he was also sensitive. She went in for more kissing when he parted from her abruptly.

“(Y/N)��please…I’m so close…” he moaned again and she could feel the tightness pooling in the bottom of her stomach. She groaned and panted for him to take his pants off. The minute his fingers left her she was filled with a mad desire to have him back inside. They both shucked their pants off and after she threw her shirt off, he followed. He was sitting up and she was on top of him, his arms wrapped around her waist and mouth sucking and nipping at her hard nipples. Her hands were raked through his hair, grabbing at the soft black locks and tugging everytime she felt that jolt of ecstasy again. She thought she was in heaven with him fingering her, she was ascending when she felt his dick enter her. She rode him harder than she ever did on horseback, and from the speed and energy he had with each thrust she knew that he was giving it his all too. She felt his cock throbbing and increased her pace, her moans growing louder and his turning into grunts as they neared their orgasms. His muscles started contracting and she felt the warmth from his cum entering her, he had short spasms as he rode it out. His breathing hard and satisfied as he grunted with each throb. She was overwhelmed by his orgasm and let her head hang back as she moaned his name through her own climax. They were both panting, sweating, but stuck to each other. He looked up at her and gave her two short kisses before they both moved to lay back down. They cuddled, and it felt a million times better than the awkward way they were in the bed before. She grabbed his dick a few times and rubbed her thumb over the head, laughing each time he twitched and moaned from the sensitivity. He pulled her hand away and draped his arm over her waist.

“Still mad at me?” She asked coyly. She was surprised herself that she had that much energy to fuck him, but she was definitely spent now after using the last of her energy cumming. He chuckled and stroked her cheek.

“No.”

Sleep came real easy to them that night. They found the gang at camp the next day and Charles was subject to many a joke by Arthur, Dutch, and even Hosea after everyone saw the hickeys on (Y/N)’s neck.

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I also take requests so feel free to shoot me a message!

#charles smith #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 #reader fic

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chinatea · 5 years

Text

Ian/BG, abo, Christmas bonus. (Part 1, Part 2)

AN: Well, it’s my birthday td, so I’m posting this as a gift to myself, i guess. Yay.

Jiyeon loves making love in the morning when there is little urgency to the process.

On most days, they wake up, almost synchronized - one of those magical mate things that they don’t tell you about - wash up and have a light breakfast before crawling back to bed for snogging. Ian would scent him and nuzzle his mark, purring to comfort him.

His alpha is happy, and the thought - more of a tangible sensation than a thought - would make his omega croon, silly and gleeful.

Today, however, is Christmas Eve and even if they’ve got plans, neither of them can say no to a lazy, slow-paced sex. Ian ruts into him until his knot swells, the omega’s heat clamping hard around his cock, locking it in until his alpha is trapped, low purrs seeping under his skin.

Ah, the purrs. Jiyeon loves how deep they can get, reverberating through his system, what with the way they’re pressed so intimately close. They share a few sweet nothings, voices reduced to whisper. Ian nuzzles his nose and smiles into his mouth, licking his way in - they kiss for a while, waiting for Ian’s swollen knot to subside.

The knotting itself rarely lasts long, but even his walls are loose enough for Ian to pull out, Jiyeon can’t let him go just yet. The craving is real, like an itch under his skin, and he is still learning how to deal with that. Having some quality time in the morning helps though - makes his prissy omega shut up for a while, so he can concentrate on doing things that are not Ian.

“How much time do we have?” Jiyeon murmurs, nose buried in the pillow that smells like them. It comforts him.

Ian lays a kiss on his shoulder, palm stroking down his side before resting in the dip of his waist.

“An hour or so,” he says. “We still need to drive to your dad’s first.”

Right. To pick up the twins. And then, they’re off to Busan because someone thought it would be a great idea to surprise good ol’ Jeons with a visit. Whomever said it, Jiyeon wants to kick them. And since Ian is the only one around, he kicks Ian - as in his arm flails around weakly, missing by a long shot.

Ian churtles, the line of his throat exposed for Jiyeon to stare at in longing. Sometimes he wishes he could mark him there, the way Ian did him, piercing his scent gland to leave a long-lasting testimony of their love. But stupid nature deprived him of the pleasure, so he has to settle for short-term ones, peppering Ian’s neck - and any place that strikes his fancy really - with cheeky love bites.

(Like someone strapped Ian to a beehive. Beautiful.)

Diminie and Christian are waiting for them, bags packed and rolled out, in the Parks mansion when they arrive.

It feels nice to be back home, surrounded by his loved ones, and see that nothing has really changed.

Diminie still hasn’t moved out, four years now into his marriage. He and his mate live separately, but some mates do nowadays. It’s a new thing, like giving each other space and everything, which Jiyeon still finds hard to wrap his head around - like, Ian can have his space when they’re both dead, maybe - but Di and their dad have always been close, as close as one can without making things too weird.

At times, Diminie can be a bit of an oddball.

He’s fragile and bubbly, very omega, very opposite of his twin, yet unlike Chris and Jiyeon (he doesn’t even know what he’s going to have for breakfast tomorrow, let alone who he’s going to be ten years from now), Di had it all mapped out in his mind since the age of two, or something. Diminie just knew things. By 16, he’d have his own little bakery; by 18, he’d marry his best friend and by 20, he’d have their first pup. And that’s barely scraping the list.

People who stick to their lists terrify Jiyeon sometimes, they really do.

At least, Christian takes more after him. In fact, he takes after Jiyeon a little too much, hence their bickering over the darndest things. Yet Jiyeon gets him better than anyone, how fragile Chris really is underneath all that swagger.

Diminie’s separation, taking a mate, had hit him hard. He felt abandoned and betrayed by his own twin, even if Diminie hadn’t gone anywhere physically, but he moved on from them - eager to start his own family, to be his own person while Chris still had no idea how to be something other than one half of the whole.

When Christian signed up for a dance school in the States, it was clear that his decision was not up for discussion. He needed to get away, learn how to stand on his own two feet and Jiyeon, all differences put aside, stood by him and persuaded their dad to let the boy go.

It’s been five years since then. Barely a day since Christian finally came him, just in time for Christmas.

Jiyeon is rapt to have him back. Somewhat relieved, too. Jiyeon hugs him first, the tightest hug he could squeeze out of himself.

“I missed you, pup,” he says in half voice, a tight clump in his throat as he swallows, a tiny bit emotional.

“Hyung,” Christian mumbles, nuzzling in sheepishly. For a moment, he reminds Jiyeon of the itty-bitty kid he used to be, sneaking into his bed at night with a book of fairy tales. So tiny and adorable and needy.

Jiyeon ruffles his hair, a fond smile on his lips. That is, until his eyes flicker down to take in the ugliest sweater he’s ever seen in his life. He feels attacked, all of a sudden, by his own blood.

A green strip of crocheted deers attempting to dab? He doesn’t find it witty, not one bit.

“You’re not wearing this joke of a sweater to Busan,” he puts his foot down, as any older brother working in fashion would, a saccharine smile on his lips and a dangerous edge to his voice. Now that the warm family reunion is over with, it’s time to whoop Christian’s ass into shape.

“Hyung!” Christian hisses, not missing a beat. A pouty duckling beak rearing up. “You can’t tell me what to wear anymore.”

“Oh, is that so?” Jiyeon says, sickly sweet, arms crossed over his chest. Ready to pounce, all guns blazing.

(It’s fucking on.)

(One very disgruntled and de-sweatered Christian later.)

“Yannie, there is someone I’d like you to meet before we go,” Jiyeon says, an impish spark in his eyes. He’s bubbling with delight, rocking on the balls of his feet as he marvels at his mate’s confounded face.

“Oh?” Ian asks, an almost untraceable chagrin in his voice, well-masked, only Jiyeon knows him like the back of his hand by now. It vexes Ian immeasurably to be out of the loop on even the smallest things. Who is that someone he’s supposed to meet? Why hasn’t he been warned ahead of time? Preferably many weeks in advance, so Ian could prepare accordingly.

As much as Jiyeon enjoys keeping Ian in the dark for his personal amusement, he doesn’t think he can sit on this secret any longer - else he blows up.

He nods at Diminie who flits towards the door to usher Christian in, a wicker basket in his arms. Ocean blue ribbons are twined around the handle, meeting on top in a fancy bow. Jiyeon was very particular about the bow, as he’s particular about most things packaging - devil is in the details, after all.

“I know it’s a bit early, but Merry Christmas, baby,” Jiyeon chimes, rising on his tippy toes to plant a big smooch on Ian’s cheek before nudging him excitedly towards his ‘present’.

Ian takes a few cautious steps forward. One might say he appears to be a touch frazzled as he peeks in, almost wary, a happy surprised gasp parting his lips at the sight of a mastiff puppy nestled under a quilt blanket. He is the coziest thing, with floppy ears and stubby paws, a healthy luster to his bluish grey fur. A drowsy whine escapes the pup as Ian flicks its ear gently, petting along the chubby snout.

“Is it...really mine?” Ian asks, the way a five-year old would ask his parents if he can keep the snail he found outside as a pet - like, he’d feed it his grandma’s favourite potted azaleas and everything.

Adorable.

Jiyeon wants to snap a picture of that face, frame it and hang it over their bedroom nest for posterity.

“All yours, love, to bring home and spoil rotten,” Jiyeon beams. “But not too much unless you want me to get jealous, alpha.”

Ian levels him with the most intense look, the kind of look that belongs in their bedroom when all the layers of propriety are dissolved and emotions are bare. Ian, one arm hooked around his waist, snaps their bodies together, taking over his mouth in one hell of a kiss. It’s raw and voracious and it leaves all three omega siblings stunned.

A strong alpha presence unfurls in the room. It’s potent. And Jiyeon has a mind to cancel the whole thing and drag Ian somewhere private for an intimate conversation on manners.

“Get a hold of yourselves, christ,” Christian’s voice pierces through the haze. “And quit stinking up the room. You’re scaring the little one.”

Jiyeon sighs into the kiss, pulling back reluctantly to rest his cheek against Ian’s shoulder, learning how to breathe again. He feels bad when he sees the pup, wide awake and whimpering slightly, ears flattened against his head in submission.

“I think you should scent him,” he says to Ian. “Let him know you’re not danger.”

“Yeah,” Ian says, suddenly unsure. “Yeah, I’ll do that.”

The alpha picks up the pup into his arms and everything falls into place. Ian looks beyond smitten already and it warms Jiyeon’s heart to see his mate so endeared and happy. They’ve come a long way, he thinks then, they truly have.

“We’re not really going to Busan, are we,” Jiyeon remarks as he stifles a yawn.

It’s been an hour into their trip and he feels too cozy and sleepy to give a damn about Ian’s schemes. As long as they arrive somewhere. For now, Jiyeon is happily cocooning inside his alpha’s coat where his woodsy scent is the thickest.

“You’ll see,” Ian replies with a brief glance at him, reaching out with one hand to fiddle with the collar of his coat, as if it’s going to make him more comfy. The alpha just likes to fuss around him and it’s not the worst thing ever, Jiyeon doesn’t think. The perks of being in love.

Jiyeon peers into the rear view mirror to find his brothers determinedly avoiding eye contact. Diminie has his nose tucked into a pocket-sized book - another obnoxiously sappy porn novel, from the looks of it, that he seems to inhale in dozens every year - while Christian is having an angry staring contest with his phone, probably still miffed about the sweater.

They’re obviously in on the secret.

“Where are we going, huh?” Jiyeon demands, his attention back on Ian. It can’t be revenge for the puppy surprise - he’s clearly been planning it for a while now, just like Jiyeon did.

His tiny fist pokes through the coat to bonk Ian on the knee. Three times. Each one weaker than the last. His palm rests on top of it for a moment, as if contemplating its next move, before digging into the meat of Ian’s thigh, thick and firm in his grip - Jiyeon’s mind is immediately sidetracked.

“No molesting the driver,” Ian chastises, a hand clasping over his and pressing a kiss to his knuckles before stuffing it back into his coat. “And as I’ve said, you’ll see.”

Somewhere along the way, he’d nodded off and when he opens his eyes, it’s to the fresh sight of pines and snow and a cozy little porch.

A picture perfect Middle of Nowhere.

Ian kills the car’s engine and wades out, still coat-less, and Jiyeon just wants to bury deeper into his layers because he hates cold. And watching Ian plod through mounds of snow in a thin cardigan makes him feel the chills.

The twins are just as reckless, spilling out of the car with giggly enthusiasm. Well, Christian - less giggly, but determined, as he rolls a heap of snow into a ball and crashes it on top of Diminie’s cape. The other squeals and skitters away behind the car, most likely to plan his revenge.

Both of them seem to be having the time of their lives, being five-year-olds again. While Jiyeon would sell his soul for a glass of mulled wine and a warm compress to cuddle with in bed.

Ian reappears, opening the door and letting Jiyeon feel the nasty bite for real now. The omega puffs his cheeks out and looks at Ian, all prickly, who busies himself with undoing his safety belt.

“I’m not going,” he whines, just to be petty. It’s probably much warmer inside the cabin, but there is quite a bit of snow and a minus degree weather between him and the cabin, so he’ll pass, for now.

Ian sighs and gathers Jiyeon into his arms, supporting under his butt as the other does his best job to hold on, hands weaving around Ian’s neck.

Much better.

It’s warm inside and smells like Christmas chicken with herbs and spices.

“Ho-ho-ho, naughties,” a voice booms and soon enough Junghwan pops out, weilding a spatula, unkempt Santa beard draped around his chest like a necklace.

“Oh, hello, hottie.”

Junghwan wiggles his eyebrows at Christian when he spots him, and the other huffs, picking up both his and Diminie’s bags, making a bit of a show of it, too - he’s an omega who can pull his weight around and needs no big tough alpha to save him kind of act - and stalking away up the stairs.

“Oh well,” the alpha shrugs, unperturbed, “the night is young.”

He faces Diminie who returns his smile sheepishly. Junghwan’s gaze softens, no trace of the raunchiness from before. Still playful, though. It’s a rare sight on him.

“Hey, Mr. Cupcake, wanna help me out in the kitchen?”

Diminie giggles, sweater paws covering his mouth. He lets Junghwan help him get rid of the extra snow hiding in the folds of his coat, patting them away. Jiyeon can’t help but notice from the side how gentle the alpha is with his brother, respectful, too. There is so much more to him than meets the eye. He wishes Christian would maybe give him a little chance to prove himself.

“Are you with me, pup?” Ian’s voice snaps him back to his alpha.

“Always with you, alpha,” Jiyeon simpers, interlacing their fingers as Ian leads them into the next room, very instagram-worthy, with a fireplace, million of throw pillows and a glass wall overlooking the frozen lake by their cabin - it’s started snowing just now and Jiyeon already feels a little bit magical.

But also hungry. Plenty hungry.

“So, what’s this little winter nest of yours, mhm?” he asks, inspecting a few knick-knacks over the fireplace.

“Ours,” Ian corrects him. “My Christmas gift to us.”

Ian has spent too much time with their dad, Jiyeon thinks as he inspects the new digs, a winter chalet in Gangwondo with a promise of the outdoor hot springs - Jiyeon has yet to see it, too weighed down by all the chicken in his stomach.

Damn Junghwan and his prowess in the kitchen. That man is a keeper - too bad Christian is too damn stubborn, just like Jiyeon is, only Jiyeon is clever stubborn while Christian is stupid stubborn, spending most of the night on his phone or upstairs with a book or whatever.

Like, Jiyeon is mighty tempted to waddle over yonder and give him a piece of his mind, but maybe later - he’s too cozy, snuggled up next to Ian, the alpha’s arm thrown over shoulder. He feels bliss. He is bliss.

The ambiance is nice, too. The crackling of firewood, the blizzard outside, hushed voices from the kitchen where Junghwan and Diminie are putting the christmas cake through its paces. He guesses it can’t be helped that those two have gotten so chummy - food is their passion, something they pursue professionally and honestly, it seems, at last, that Diminie has found an informed listener for his spiritual quest to bake the perfect cupcake, so good for him.

“You know what I was thinking about when I saw you rocking the little pup in your arms?” Jiyeon speaks up into the comfortable silence between them.

“What were you thinking about, love?” Ian hums, pressing a sweet kiss onto the crown of his head.

Jiyeon smiles to himself, savouring those thoughts. Although saying them out loud makes him feel a touch self-conscious and silly.

“It made me think about you holding our own little pup in your arms, scenting him to sleep,” he says with a sigh. God, he’s so not ready to even venture there, but.

“You did?” Ian asks, carefully.

“Yeah,” Jiyeon says. “I mean, I’m not suggesting or...god no. I’m more than happy with just the two of us. I’m selfish and ideally want you all to myself at all times, but...I didn’t hate that thought, you know, as much as I thought I would. It was nice. Sort of.”

“It’s okay, pup. One day we’ll talk about it, okay?”

“Yeah?” Jiyeon glances up, drowning in Ian’s gaze.

“Yeah.”

Always fucking drowning. Like one does in quicksand. Or in love.

(“I want you to know you make me the happiest man, Ji.”)

----

Some extras (as per tradition).

- Ian and BG will have their first kid, an omega, in mid-thirties (around ten years into their marriage, btw) and then a year later, alpha twins.

- Diminie has a mate and two-year-old omega pup which Diminie had at 20, just like he wanted. And he doesn’t intend to stop there.

- Diminie owns several bakeries around Seoul, the first one he started at 16 (sponsored by his dad, ofc). He’s a pastry genius, his cupcakes already became a household name in Korea, now spreading all over the world.

- Christian had a few boyfriends in the States, but nothing too serious because he knew one day he was going to go back and, hence, break it off. He’s currently single and not looking for relationship.

- Tattoo, same age as BG, is also single. Still waiting for the One, because he’s romantic like that, and while he waits, he’s figured he might as well have a little fun with every pretty omega batting their eyelashes his way. He’s like, the opposite of Ian.

- Tattoo is a self-taught chef. Has his own place in Busan, with two Michelin stars he was awarded just recently. Plans to open a new place in Seoul, soon.

- True to his persona name, this Tattoo has two full arm sleeves. A bit risque for a chef in Korea, I suppose, but still a big hit with both the patrons and one-timers in his restaurant. Most of them are, unsurprisingly, omegas.

- Also, in this AU, BG has naturally wavy hair which he used to straighten out all the time. Ian had no idea until they’ve gotten married, but once he did, he got floored with major uwus and suggested (begged) BG leave his precious hair alone. (BG, Diminie and Tat are the wavy hair squad.)

- You might have noticed that Seagull is not really featured here. That’s because I haven’t yet come up with a story for him. I might in the future though, if I decide to continue with this universe.

- Also, I borrowed some worldbuilding details from my other abo au, specifically about marking. In short, only omegas get marked by their alphas. Marks are not permanent and fade away with time. Also, a mark can be overpowered by another mark made by the alpha of a more dominant status.

#personas au #ian/bg

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trashyazeohane · 6 years

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Yo, yo, yo yoooo!! Let’s keep this party going!

Part 1 can be found here!

Adult!Maxvid!AU - Part 9 (Here comes Gwen!):

Deciding on trying was way easier than actually trying – Max concluded as he stared at yet another message from David.

The situation between them was good, not the best, but it was close to what they had before that night. David asked him over to hang out a few times after the last time and even though Max usually didn’t stay long, he had fun.

Plus David looked way better, livelier, more vivid, more energetic, so Max didn’t mind. He was happy.

So it took Max another week before he actually decided to do something. Of course, he did the lamest thing that he could do, but he saw David eyeing those damn cookies in a shop, so Max decided to buy them.

And he took them one afternoon to David’s and put on the coffee table.

“What is it?” David asked, putting his feet on the ground and getting closer to the coffee table.

“Cookies.” Max said, suddenly very aware of how dumb this whole situation was.

“For me?”

Max nodded, looking away.

He more heard than actually saw David reaching to open the pack.

“You often cook enough for the two of us, so well… I mean, it’s lame and stupid as fuck, but I decided to add something from myself…” Max bit the inside of his cheek. “You can throw them away, if you –“

But David was already ripping the pack open with a childish glint shimmering in his eyes and then was pushing the package in his direction.

Max eyed the cookies for a second, before he reached and took one. David grinned and grabbed one to munch on – or actually devour it – in the speed of light. Max didn’t even manage to move the cookie close to his lips and David was already done with his one!

The man looked up at him and grinned sheepishly, brushing away a few crumbs from the corners of his mouth.

In the end Max went to the kitchen and poured them both a glass of milk so they could dip the cookies in it.

In the end it wasn’t much, but David smiling like this was the best day of his life made Max all fuzzy and warm inside.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!

But buying and giving one bag of cookies probably wasn’t enough to win David’s heart (if that was even possible).

Another situation somehow presented itself.

Max was picking his cousin from the kindergarten, when he noticed the kids hanging on David like he was some kind of a tree or a climbing wall. They shrieked happily, too loud for comfort and David laughed with them, but Max could see the exhaustion pulling on his muscles. Max definitely noticed the bags under his eyes, smeared over with purple and grayish paint.

Max didn’t want to ask about it in front of all those kids, plus David’s co-workers. So Max waited until he was alone to take out his phone and message David.

heyzzz wanna grab some coffee? my treat

Max walked around the city, hiding his mouth and chin behind his scarf. He felt dread roaming around his body, the consequences of his behavior finally seeping into his mind. Had he theoretically asked David out on a date?

Fuck. He did! Oh god! Shit, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, what if David got the wrong impression from it? But wait, Max wanted to get closer to David, so thinking about it as a date wouldn’t be that far away from the truth, right?

Now he was stressed for sure! What if David says no? What if he decides that he wants nothing to do with Max anymore? What if he suddenly stops talking with him altogether –

Sure :) But right now?

yeah if you are done working

Max stopped to lean on a concrete wall near some random shop. A few people shot him weird, suspicious glances, but he didn’t care.

I’ll be done in thirty minutes :)

Perfect.

Through the whole Max’s way back to the kindergarten he felt stressed as fuck, with the nervousness growing inside his stomach. But it was a weird stress, mixed with a lot of positive emotions, because, damn, David had said yes!

When it was around thirty minutes later he moved to the parking lot and almost immediately found David’s car. When he stepped to it, he saw David exiting from the back door. When the male noticed Max, he waved his hand, grinning like crazy.

Max felt excitement bubbling in his chest.

“Hey Max, did you have to wait long?” David asked, approaching him with that honest smile.

“No, I just got here.” Which, of course, wasn’t true.

“Great! Do you mind if we get my car back home?”

“No problem.”

All the way back to his house David hummed under his nose or started random conversations. Max tried to keep them up and going, but he was a mess inside and often forgot his way of thinking even before fully replying.

After they parked the car, David excitedly asked Max where they were going.

Gladly Max already knew. Or more or less knew. He kinda remembered a café Preston once had mentioned, which wasn’t too far away. Max never had been there, but hey, there has to be a first time for everything.

(Plus Preston had talent in digging out amazing places.)

Gladly Max googled this place earlier.

They talked about random topics while they were walking there. The stress in Max’s muscles was getting smaller and smaller with every passing second. And in just few minutes they were in front of the café.

Max only hoped that it will be good or he will personally kill Preston.

The café wasn’t the most beautiful thing in the whole universe, it wasn’t one of those really climatic places, but Max could understand why Preston had said that it was cozy and kinda neat.

Of course, David immediately opened his mouth after entering, looking around in awe.

David picked the coziest free place and kidnapped all the cushions that were laying around the couch. He took the seat under the window (kinda on the window sill) and put all the pillows and cushions behind and around him.

“Cozy enough?” Max asked, not being able to stop a small smile from forming on his lips.

David chuckled.

“A few more pillows and it would be perfect.”

David had more than a dozen of cushions laying around, beneath and behind him. Max raised his one eyebrow and David slumped down on his seat, grinning from ear to ear.

Yeah, it was better not to question it.

“What do you want?”

“Eh…” David said and then looked up at the ceiling. “Café Au Lait.”

“I take you out for a coffee and you literally pick the one that has the smallest amount of caffeine.” Max shook his head. “But okay. Anything sweet to eat?”

“No, you don’t have to get me anything.” David said, grabbing one pillow and hugging it close. Of course, he had to pick the one with an animal drawn on it.

Was he twelve or actually thirty three? Because it was hard to guess now.

“Okay. Wait here for a bit.”

And with that Max walked to a cash register. The woman behind it wasn’t that young, but she couldn’t be called old either. She took his order with a kind smile.

Max ordered for himself a simple black coffee and for David Café Au Lait and a piece of cake, with a strawberry on top, that looked kinda tasty.

Well, his mom was sending him money, so Max might as well use it to give his crush a little piece of happiness.

Wait, that was so terrible, oh God, he wanted to hide under the ground.

The cashier chuckled at him and gave back a few coins. Shit!

Max returned to their table to find David curiously looking out the window. When he sat down, the red haired male turned to him with a grin as bright as the Sun and Max felt his chest clench.

They talked about random and important things. Few times David laughed loudly and Max found peace and pride in seeing the man not having the tension his shoulders had possessed during the last few meetings.

Few minutes later the barista brought their coffees and the slice of cake.

Max leaned to grab his coffee and push the plate in David’s direction.

“It’s for you.”

“But I… I didn’t…” David said, looking down at the food with hesitation.

“I said it’s on me. Plus you look like you need some energy.”

David nodded and looked up at him.

“Are you sure?”

“It’s already paid, better eat it now.” Max took a sip of his coffee.

David grinned at him and grabbed the cake. He brought it closer to himself and started to eat.

They talked and simply enjoyed a calm afternoon in each other’s presence. People went in and out, the barista walked around, bringing and handing out orders and sometimes glancing in their direction, but Max didn’t mind.

Max enjoyed the evening. He felt happy, satisfied with the calmness surrounding them both. And David looked like he was enjoying himself too, so this was what mattered. It even seemed that some part of his usual energy was back.

“Oh, shoot I didn’t even ask. Do you want to try it?” David asked, lifting the fork with a small piece of cake on it.

Max wasn’t one to eat too many sweets, but he guessed there wasn’t anything wrong with trying.

And to be honest he wasn’t sure why he did it. His brain just short-circuited – with the black-out overpowering all his senses and logical ways of thinking. And before he knew what was happening he was already leaning forward and taking a bite of the cake from the fork still held in David’s hand.

Only when he moved away, Max really comprehended what he just had done. He blinked and snapped his eyes open to look at David, who was staring back at him with slightly opened mouth and a blush rising to his cheek.

“Oh… uhm, is it tasty?” David asked, slowly putting the fork down.

Oh, what? Who? Wait! Ah, yes, the cake.

Max swallowed hard. The sweetness spread on his tongue, overwhelming his senses. He blinked and licked his lips.

“Yeah, it’s pretty good.”

David grinned, still with those red tones smeared over his cheeks. But Max wasn’t probably any better as he could feel his skin getting warmer and warmer, though he still tried to keep his face calm and collected.

They finished their coffees and Max walked David back home. David insisted on doing the opposite, but it would be dumb as David’s home was closer than Max’s dorm.

David thanked him with the kindest and most precious smile he had ever seen and Max felt like he could faint any second now.

During another few days Max wasn’t doing much. There were days when he wished David a good day (and he really meant it), there were days when Max sent him a few jokes (usually dirty ones, or stupid memes) to cheer him up when it seemed that David wasn’t in a best mood. He tried to be nice to David – but still while being himself. When he went to pick his little cousin, he helped David gather the toys scattered around and then helped get some kid out of a tree (even though Max was sure this kid was pretty capable of doing so herself, but David looked like he was on the verge of a breakdown).

He wasn’t doing much, but he was trying.

And the soft smile spreading over David’s lips was enough to make him feel better.

A few times David invited him over for dinner and once he asked Max for help in making some weird cutouts for the kids in the kindergarten.

(Max never expected that he would be cutting out animal shapes in David’s house.)

It looked like everything was turning out okay and that he was getting closer and closer to David. That was until Max got a call from Gwen.

(Back to David ->)

David smiled to himself as he stared at his phone. He wrote a quick reply and then laid his phone down on the counter to mix the soup he was making.

“You’re in a pretty good mood.” Gwen said, moving to him and leaning her side on the counter.

“Yeah, I am.” David replied, glancing at her for a second.

“Is there a reason behind your… extraordinary good mood?” Gwen asked, prolonging every word, using that low tone which David already had heard a lot in his life.

And somehow this time it made his heart skip a beat.

There wasn’t any reason, right? Or maybe there was.

“There is, but not like that!” David quickly added when Gwen was starting to smile at him way too seductively.

“Oh really?” She insisted, stepping closer.

“Yes!”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Then why do you ask if you don’t believe me afterwards?” David asked, raising his eyebrow while looking at the girl.

“Just for fun, I guess.” Gwen shrugged.

Seriously.

But he wasn’t happy because of that! He definitely wasn’t. David was happy just because! He was usually an optimistic guy, but today he was extra joyful. Or lately he had been weirdly in a good mood.

His phone peeped and he immediately reached for it, but he was too slow, as Gwen snatched the device from under his hands.

“Haha! I got it!”

“Gwen!”

But the woman was already unlocking the screen and staring at his old and new messages. David tried to grab his phone, but he had to focus on the dinner he was making.

Gwen’s finger was moving smoothly up and down on the screen. And it moved and moved and moved, scrolling down further and further.

“Oh wow, that is a lot of messages.” Gwen finally said after an eternity passed between them.

David curled up. But was it bad? He enjoying talking with Max. He enjoyed spending time with him. He enjoyed seeing him smile, no matter how rarely he was doing that.

However lately David felt like Max was doing it more often and often.

“David…”

“Yes?”

“Are you two dating?”

“N-no!”

“Yhm, right…” Gwen murmured, moving further into their messages’ den. Her voice indicated that she didn’t believe it. “You are really not dating?”

“Gwen, if we did, I would tell you.”

But they weren’t, so that was out of the question.

They weren’t dating. They were just talking a lot and they occasionally went out together. Sometimes they ate dinner together and Max was always there when David was in a bad mood. Max had helped him a lot nowadays and, well, spending time with Max was making him feel calm.

But they weren’t dating!

Max was an adult now. A good adult. Well yeah, of course, he was still sarcastic, sometimes brash, swore like a sailor, but he wasn’t a bad person. He was kind, but he simply showed it in different ways. Kinda unusual ways, but he still was a very good person.

Whoever will be with Max will be lucky.

(David’s heart thrummed painfully inside his chest. Oh, weird. It was a kinda painful sensation.)

“Do you mind me taking his phone number?” Gwen asked.

“Erm, I don’t?”

“Great.” And Gwen wrote the number down in her own phone.

Oh golly, what was she thinking of doing? Should he warn Max? Gwen’s plans could sometimes end in a disaster. But it was Max, he will manage. Probably.

(Back to Max ->)

How Gwen managed to make Max arrange a meeting with her was a miracle. Or maybe not so much, as she only wrote that they needed to talk about David and Max was already asking for a date and time.

And this was how Max found himself again in front of Gwen’s apartment, knocking loudly.

“I’m going, sheesh, calm down!”

Max smirked at the pissed look on her face as she let him inside. Man, to be honest, he kinda missed pissing her off. He had been a little shit at the camp and now he didn’t change that much.

“Do you want something to drink?” Gwen asked.

“Depends on how long we will be talking.”

“Depends on how well you will be cooperating.”

“Black coffee then.”

Gwen sighed, but made two cups – one coffee and some lemon balm for herself apparently.

They sat at the same table as they had done some time ago and for a few minutes neither of them talked, only stared at the abyss while taking long sips from the cups.

“Are you gonna spill the beans?” Max finally asked, after almost half of his cup was empty.

Gwen sighed and massaged her temples. Only now Max could finally see the wrinkles gathering around her eyes and forehead, spreading around like waves.

“I’m gonna be pretty honest with you. It came to my attention that you and David are spending a lot of time together nowadays.” She moved the cup to her mouth, but then pushed it away after a second.

Max looked up at her.

“Are you two dating?” She asked.

Max’s heart stopped beating.

“Why do you ask me? You’re David’s best friend. Shouldn’t you ask him?”

“Just answer my question.” Gwen sighed.

Max licked his lips and with a heavy heart he told the truth.

“No.”

“Okay, so you confirmed David’s words.” Gwen mumbled, more to herself than to him.

But Max heard her.

And he felt mixed feelings roaming around his body. On one side – ouch, it hurt as the words sent a ton of prickling needles through his chest. But on the other side – it made him feel kinda good to know that Gwen and David had been talking about him.

Gwen glanced at Max and then some kind of a resolution appeared in her eyes. She put her palms on the table and intertwined her fingers. She exhaled slowly through her mouth, lifted her head and stared right at Max.

“Max, do you feel something for David?”

Max swallowed hard.

“Why should I tell you?” He found himself speaking without even thinking.

But to be honest he was right – why should he answer? Not many people knew about his crush. To be precise only two people, not counting Max, knew about it and he liked it that way.

Gwen looked up at him and suddenly she seemed ten years older than she really was.

“Listen Max.” She took a deep breath. “Not every person is as blind as David.” Well, that was true, but hearing it from Gwen of all people made him twitch internally. “And I can see that something is happening between you two, so please tell me the truth.” Then she furrowed her eyebrows and looked back at him with some angry spark, some murderous glint, some horrifying fire blazing in her eyes. “Because if you are only leading David on so you can laugh later then – “

“I would never do that!” Max found himself snapping back, looking right at Gwen.

The woman stopped speaking and then blinked, looking kinda taken aback by Max’s sudden harsh tone.

To be honest, Max himself was surprised. But his heart thrummed and beated so heavily and painfully at the simple idea that he could have done that, that he acted on impulse.

“Max.” Gwen said.

Max huffed and then combed his hand through his hair, getting stuck a few times on his black locks.

“I like David, okay? I really like him.” Max finally said, letting his hand fall down on his lap, where he tightened it. “I’ve liked him for a long time.” He let out a dry chuckle. “It feels like an eternity now.”

“How long?”

Max sighed and slumped down in his chair. He felt tired. He didn’t have enough strength to fight Gwen now. Or maybe he simply didn’t want to do it anymore.

“Seven years or so.” He mumbled, looking away for a second. “I don’t know, it didn’t happen in a day.”

“You’ve liked him for seven years?”

“And I still do.” Max said, licking his lips afterwards. “I thought that if I stopped going to camp, I would forget about him. But I didn’t. I couldn’t. But I tried.” He chuckled. “Yet nothing worked. Then I thought that if I tried to ignore it, then maybe my feelings would disappear. But it didn’t work either and then I met him again. And I found myself liking David even more.” Max exhaled slowly and then took another shallow inhale. “That night was a mistake. I should have controlled myself more. If I could, I would change it. I felt so terrible afterwards. I didn’t want to hurt him. I really didn’t. I thought stopping contacting him would be the best option here.”

“I believe you.” Gwen said. “But it wasn’t.”

“I know.” Max huffed, pinching the bridge of his nose. ”I know.” He repeated himself and then moved his hands to wrap them around the cup. “But it made me realize that I really like him. I’m tired of pretending that I don’t. And I want to do something with it.”

“So you’ve been making a move on him?” Gwen inquired, raising her eyebrow with a sort of evil smirk appearing in the corner of her lips.

“I – I think I did?” Max mumbled, now really aware of everything he had done during the last few weeks. “I mean I’ve been kinda trying to?”

“Yeah, I can see.” Gwen said. The smile was present on her lips for a few more seconds until she took a sip. It immediately disappeared after she put the cup down and was replaced with something dangerous luring in the dimples. “But if you are only being kind so you can – ”

“I don’t want to use him.” Max said, glaring at the woman while feeling hurt that she would even think about it. But to be honest Gwen knew him only from the times when he had been a kid, so it was kinda understandable. “I actually want to make him happy. I…” Okay, here comes the cheesiness! “… like seeing him happy. I like seeing him smile. I know I’m not the best at being this good and kind person, but I actually like doing it…” Then like some kind of an explanation, he added. “… sometimes.”

Gwen’s eyes softened and she let out a small, raspy chuckle.

“I never thought in my entire life that I would hear those words coming from your mouth.” Max was already opening his lips, but Gwen continued. “Listen Max. David is a nice guy. The nicest one I know. And life has kicked him too many times.” Max frowned at that. “After the last serious relationship it took him a lot of time to pick himself up and I don’t want him going through it once again. David needs someone stable, not a person that would leave him after a few years. He wants someone for the rest of his life. So if you’re not going to be this someone, I need to ask you to step down.”

The rest of his life. Being able to be with David for the rest of Max’s life?

This sounded –

“I want that.” Max said, looking at Gwen, right into her eyes and not wavering even a bit. His heart beated loudly inside his chest, but he didn’t step down. He didn’t want to step down. To be honest he wanted to move further, to run, jump and fly. “I want to be this someone.”

Because it sounded amazing, delightful and blissful.

Gwen stared at him back for a few more seconds, not twitching or blinking at all. And only when she found this something she had been searching for in his face, maybe posture or even heart, she sighed.

“Okay, I believe you.”

Max let out a deep exhale, which ended abruptly when Gwen continued:

“But if you ever hurt him, I will personally cut every one of your limbs, burn it and then burn the rest of your body too.”

“I understand.” Max said and, damn, trembled, because something in Gwen’s posture, eyes and stiffness told him that she will do it in the blink of an eye. “I won’t do it.”

Or maybe Max simply knew Gwen too well and knew that if she said she would do something, she would do it.

And Max didn’t want to feel her wrath, especially on himself.

But mostly Max didn’t want to hurt David.

“Okay, just remember it.”

“I will.”

Gwen grabbed the cup and took a sip.

Max fiddled with his cup for a few more seconds, gathering the strength to ask another question. He pushed his pride aside and simple asked:

“Do you think… I even have a chance?”

Gwen opened her eye and glanced at him. She put the cup down and then crossed her arms.

“Well I didn’t see him so happy while talking with someone in a very long time.” She nodded to herself and then turned to Max. “So maybe not all hope is lost.”

Typical Gwen. Lifting his spirits one moment, only to let his mood crumble down the very next second.

But something in her mischievous smirk at the end told Max that he should focus on the first part.

And to be honest his heart fluttered at that, it rose and floated inside, making his chest swell with warmness.

Only when Max was walking back to his dorm, a lone thought hit him.

Had Gwen given him a blessing?! Had Gwen given him ‘the talk’?!

What?

And that is the end of this part! I hope you stay tuned for the next ones, when maybe something will finally move forward in David’s and Max’s relationship!

#Maxvid #Mavid #Adult!Maxvid!AU #my art?#my stories?#I should focus on other things #Naaaaah xD

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