#I’m hoping to get this done tonight or tomorrow at the latest

[buddiesmutslut]

The Buddie scene I just wrote, using only emojis:

🪂🛻🦒🐘🚫⛽️⤵️🏃‍♂️🦏🍆🦵💨

[world-of-aus]

The Arrangement - Chapter 3

Pairing: Mobboss!Bucky x Reader

Chapter Warnings: Angsty Dialogue. Longing????

Author's Note: Chapter 3 is finally here, I apologize for the delay, but I wanted to make this as good as I could for all of you. Also the vows used are my personal favorite and I think they fit the story well. I hope you enjoy, thank you, and happy readings!

You’re looking over the latest shipment, fingers dancing down the list of numbers, eyes scanning over the page from left to right. 

“You know, I heard most brides should be relaxing before their big day, having a night out on the town with their friends. Why am I not surprised you’re still here sweetheart?"

Your fingers still, eyes flitting up to see you father at the open door of your office, you offer a warm smile, “m'about done, just doing a final check before the weekend, wanted to make sure our numbers were right come Monday when we merge with the Barnes, didn't want a single hair out of place. And I'll have you know that Becca and I had a girls night yesterday by the way, we plan on catching a late dinner tonight as well so consider that my night out on the town.” 

Your father chuckles stepping into your space, your eyes flit back to the sheet as he draws closer, his presence looming at your side as he watches you. He waits till you’ve skimmed the last of the page, till you’re relaxed back against the office chair eyes on him before he speaks. 

“How are you doing my girl,” he murmurs reaching out to stroke your head, “I’ve been worried about you since your mom called you home and delivered the news.” 

“I don’t know how to feel dad,” you answer honestly, “should I feel happy, sad, angry, regret?” 

“Regret?” he questions. 

“This isn’t the way this was supposed to go,” you say. “I planned a wedding for tomorrow that isn’t mine, everything up to the last detail is hers, it's not mine and now I’m expected to step up – to step in for my family. Do you know what that’s going to feel like? To look like? Stepping in to a wedding that screams ‘This isn’t yours’, a wedding that you didn't invision." What if she comes back dad, what if she comes to her senses and decides she wants him back? What then? Are you going to discard up the contract like you did that night? Discard my feelings as if they meant less than hers?” 

Your father looks stricken by your words, “but we thought it’s what you wanted sweetheart, you didn’t fight us on it, you willingly let him sign so we assumed it's what you wanted too."

You scoff with a shake of your head, maybe you’d settle on feeling anger. “Of course I made it seem like it's something I wanted. Forgive me for not wanting to put myself through a one-sided marriage. He fell for her dad the first night he laid eyes on her and he was locked in, he loves her, he chose her. So of course I let him go despite my breaking heart. I refused to be the cause of someone’s unhappiness, to be the cause of my own unhappiness because I deserve someone who will love me back, who would choose me and he wasn’t going to chose me.” 

‘I can’t do this to her.’ 

But he could do it to you. 

“Sweetheart I’m -” 

You bring a hand up, “Please don’t dad, I’ve agreed to this because I know what it meant to our family, and I’ll play my role just as you asked but please don't ask more of me, there's only so much that I can give, and I think I've given enough."

Your fathers struck by your words, and he can only watch as you stand from the seat gathering your things. It’s only once you’ve reached the door of the office you turn to regard him, “I’ll see you tomorrow dad.” He wants to call you back,  to get on his knees and beg for your forgiveness because how could he have not seen it. Seen what that night did to you, he should have done more for you, fought it, but all he could think of that night was the merger, the safety it would bring both families. He thought of everyone’s happiness but your own that night. They all did. 

“You know my offer still stands to be your getaway driver for tomorrow right?” 

Despite the tears blurring your eyes you still manage to snort out your laughter, “Your brother would have us tracked down in minutes Bec’s there’s no where you could go that he wouldn’t find you, he has plenty of people that owe him favors just ready to cash in. Also don't get me started on the hell my father would reign, I don't take his position till after I marry."

“It was a worth a try,” she grumbles stabbing a noodle, “I just hate to see you hurting y/n, this isn’t how the night before your big day should be going, you should be happy – those tears shouldn’t be sad ones.” 

You smile sadly at the noodles in the takeout box before looking over the coffee table at your best friend, “but this isn’t my big day Bec's, I'm doing this for our families." Rebecca abandons her noodles all but crawling over the wooden coffee table to get to you, her arms crushing you in a welcomed embrace. “Tomorrow is for you y/n, I know none of it feels like it is, but its for you, I promise it is.” 

Your fingers curl around your friend as more tears slip from your eyes, god how you wish that were the truth. You would give yourself tonight to cry, to be hurt, to feel angry, but tomorrow, tomorrow it would all be different - you'd learn to mask it. You would no longer cry, no longer allow this pain to consume you, you were going to fight for your happiness - real happiness, and ensure you got every bit of it you deserved. 

Bucky remembered the nights the two of you would be out in the backyard of the Barnes residence, a soft blanket laid out beneath the two of you, the stars coating the night sky as you two drew up the image of the ‘perfect wedding’ a wedding between the two of you that was written in the stars. Looking around the chapel now he doesn’t see a single speck of you in the details. Though why would he, this wedding wasn’t yours despite all the effort you had gone to make sure it was perfect and it really wasn’t his – was it?  

He still recalls the day your sister eagerly announced their engagement to both families, he had imagined this being one of the most exciting moments in his life but where was that sought after feeling? He had found no excitement when she mentioned that you and her would be going dress shopping for the first time since the engagement dropped, no eagerness in wondering what she would look like in her chosen all white dress. If anything he felt like he had been outsider to most of it, the cake testing, the linen choosing, the food tasting, and at the time he couldn't quite understand why. Where had that rush he felt with you in his backyard gone? This was his wedding, he should feel happy, so why didn't he, what was missing?

Bucky thought he might be devastated when his mother rang him to tell him about your sister not being able to go through with the wedding. He thought he might have been crushed when he received her text: Please forgive me. I love you, but I can't do this. He thought he might feel hurt when his number was blocked shortly after, but he felt nothing.

Now though as he stands at the head of the chapel, Steve and Sam at his side a feeling Bucky can’t place his finger on crushes his chest as he looks over the families lining the pews of the church. There are quiet whispers filtering through the air, and Bucky thinks that's what may be causing the feeling. Or maybe it was the fact that you still hadn’t entered through the closed doors of the chapel.  

Had you unlike your sister gotten actual cold feet, or maybe you finally decide to do something for you, something that wasn't at the benefit of your family.

Steve leans in from where he’s stood at his side, “would you like me to go check on them pal?” Bucky’s lip's part on an answer but the doors to the chapel are pushing in, his sister albeit a little disheveled makes her way down the aisle, quiet apologies on her lips as she takes her spot on your side.

He looks at her in question, "we hit a bump in the road," she mouths, "she's coming."

Bucky wants to question her further, but then the piano is being queued, the doors swinging open and just there at the entrance you stand with your father, your arms entwined together.

He forgets how to breathe.

Bucky watches your father guide the two of you down the aisle, both family's stood on their feet. The feeling that weighed him down earlier is now replaced with something new as your father closes the distance. You're dressed in a silk white dress, a delicate veil placed in your hair, a simple piece yet on you it looked incredibly stunning, so this was the bump in the road.

He meets you and your father, your hand being placed in his, "take care of my girl son." Bucky looks at your father, his hand squeezing yours, "I give you my word sir." your father nods placing a kiss to your cheek before taking his spot by your mother.

It's just you and Bucky for a moment as he leads you up to the officiant, "I'm sorry for being late," you whisper, "I -" He turns to you then as you stop before the officiant, his other hand taking yours, "there's nothing to be sorry for I understand, you're here now, you look beautiful sweetheart."

He's left you speechless, but there's no room for words as the officiant begins the ceremony.

Bucky can't take his eyes off you, not even as he repeats the vows he's supposed to, his eyes only ever part from yours when he goes to present you with the ring Steve passes him, and even then they're on yours shortly after as he makes his promise to you. He cant quite describe the feeling that passes over him when you take the ring from Becca eyes locked on his as you make your vows to him sealing it with the ring over his finger.

Why did he ever let you go?

"James Barnes and Y/F/N Y/L/N, having proclaimed your love and commitment to one another in the eyes of these loved ones, and with the power vested in me by the Universal Life Church and the state of New York, I am so happy to pronounce you husband and wife." The officiant turns his attention to Bucky then, "You may kiss your bride."

You and Bucky had only ever kissed one other time, and it was a moment like this one that he knew he would never forget.

He's on his side looking down at you, taking in the beauty of your features as your eyes dance across the starry sky. "I'd want to write my own vow's," he proclaims, "it would feel more personal, more us."

He loves when your eyes find his, there's a brightness in your eyes at his proclamation, "I'd love that too B, care to share with me a bit of what you'd say?"

He know's you're teasing but in that moment he doesn't care, he thinks he may be able to tell you tonight, to show you just how much he cares, how much he loves you. "I vow to fiercely love you in all your forms now and forever," he breathes grinning at the soft surprise that skirts over your features. "I promise to never forget that this is a once-in-a-lifetime love. And to always know in the deepest part of my soul that no matter what challenges might carry us apart, we will always find our way back to each other."

He thinks you might have been the first to move, your hand finding the back of his head, the other the side of his face as you caressed his cheek, he knows there's love in your eyes as you pull him a little closer, the whispered words, 'you may now kiss the bride' ghosting over his lips just before they met yours.

He's certain he's the one that's moved first this time, one hand finding your waist, the other your cheek as he pulls you closer. He can see the fear, the worry there in your eyes, and he caresses your skin in hopes of easing that worry as he closes the distance between the two of you.

And just before his lips slot over yours Bucky vows then to mend the promises he had broken.

The Arrangement Taglist:

If you'd like to be added or removed please let me know, Many Thanks <3

@learisa @greatenthusiasttidalwave @barnesxstan @calwitch @h0nestly-though @wintrsoldrluvr @esposadomd @roofwitty779 @pattiemac1 @sebastians-love @scott-loki-barnes @mrsnikstan @metanoiablxxm @lostyx @missvelvetsstuff @casa-boiardi @shoutingcardinal @tiedyedghoulette @littleeuphoriaelf @polireader @armystay89 @cjand10 @railmesebstan @agardenflower25 @brckenmemories @mcira @loki-laufeyson68 @edelweissbarnes @unaxv @ghalouha @wasalreadyhere @broadwaybabe18 @mavs101 @stormy-stardust @shadowrose13-blog1 @laha1na

[onlyfezco]

Forget Me Not - Fezco

Summary: Fez forgets your date Friday night and he spends the weekend trying to get back on your good side

Fezco x Reader

Word count: 2,247

Author’s Note: This just started because I thought about blasting music that fit my mood when I was mad and the other person realizing I was mad based off the lyrics lol. Comments and reblogs are appreciated. The divider is from @firefly-graphics​

It had been a long night. Fez got word about a party happening last minute and him and Ash needed to go to lessen the load of Mouse’s latest supply. Before the party, Fez had been at the store for most of the day. He was ready to count up the money from tonight and go straight to bed.

“You’re in trouble,” Fez heard Ash say from the living room. He finished locking the door then made his way towards his brother.

“What I do,” Fez asked, then his eyes followed Ash’s to the couch where you lay sleeping. 

“Oh shit,” Fez said, rubbing his hand over his shaved head. Normally, this wouldn’t be Fez’s reaction to seeing his girlfriend. Especially, after a super long day. But it was your nice black dress and perfectly done hair that reminded Fez he forgot about your date. 

“Yeah, shit,” Ash chuckled dropping his backpack on the kitchen table. “She’s gonna be pissed.”

“I forgot she was stayin’ over this weekend. Her roommate’s army boyfriend was comin’ home for the weekend and she ain’t want to stay around for them reunitin’ for three days straight.”

“So she’s gonna be mad at you all weekend here? That’s hilarious,” Ash said with a silent laugh so he wouldn’t wake you.

“Man, shut the fuck up,” Fez whispered to his brother. By no means was any of this funny. 

“I’mma let you deal with that. I’m goin’ to my room.”

Once Ash was gone, Fez squatted down so he was on eyelevel with you. “Ma,” he said softly. “Ma, wake up.” You stirred a little but your eyes were still closed. “Come on, let’s get you in bed,” Fez said gently shaking you now.

Your eyes opened briefly, then closed again. “I’m fine here,” you replied flatly, then rolled over so your back was to Fezco now. 

Fez sighed. “Come on, baby. I’m sorry. I heard about a party the other day, and you know I got this extra supply to get rid of this month.”

“So not only did you go to a party without me, you didn’t call to let me know you’d be home late either? Nice to know I’m so forgettable.” You readjusted on the couch then pulled the blanket down to cover yourself up. After about an hour of Fez not showing up and not hearing anything from him, you took your makeup off and got comfortable on the couch. 

You knew you were being a bit childish. You could have easily called Fez to see where he was at, or remind him of your plans. But you had been texting him for most of the day anyway. It hurt that even though you should have been on his mind already, he still forgot about your date and you coming over. 

“You’re not. I know you’re mad, but at least sleep in my bed tonight.”

“No thank you.”

Fez sighed again frustrated with how stubborn you were. “You don’t have to sleep with me. I’ll take the couch.”

“No. Thank you,” you repeated more sternly this time. 

Fez just stayed there for a moment staring at your back hoping you’d give in and go to his bed. But you were stubborn and didn’t budge an inch. Fez stood up then walked to the kitchen table to put the money him and ash made tonight up somewhere safe. He wasn’t in the mood to sit there and count the profits right now. He’d worry about that tomorrow. He began making his way to his room, but glanced at the couch before he went down the hall to see if you changed your mind. You didn’t. He sighed then made the trek to his bedroom alone for the night. 

Well I'm not gon' cry

I'm not gon' cry

I'm not gon' shed no tears

Fezco practically shot up out of his bed at the loud music. He looked around the room and realized it was morning from the faint light pouring in from behind his curtains. He shook his head then got out of bed to see where the noise was coming from.

Ash was sitting at the kitchen table watching some Youtube video with his headphones in while shoveling pancakes and eggs into his mouth. He walked into the kitchen to see you flipping a pancake over as you sang to the Mary J. Blige song. You were obviously still upset. He knew you would occasionally play some 90′s R&B while you cooked, but playing Mary this loud was a sign you were mad.

“Morning, ma,” Fez said testing the waters with you. Normally when he’d catch you cooking in his kitchen, he would come up behind you and kiss your neck. But he didn’t want to make the mistake of touching you and making your madder right now. He didn’t think he could handle you pushing him away. 

Fez was met with silence as you grabbed a plate with some eggs already on it and placed the pancake down. “Come on, Y/N. I said I was sorry.” 

You still ignored him, putting the skillet into the sink then walking over to the table to sit down. You grabbed the syrup that was next to Ash and poured it over your pancakes. Fez looked around the kitchen and saw that there was no food for him. He sighed, his shoulders slumping. He grabbed a bowl from the cabinet and poured himself some cereal. Usually, he would sit next to you at the table, but he sat from across from you instead.

Ash looked up from his phone and eyed the both of you. He was sitting in the middle of you two and could feel the animosity.

The Mary song faded out, but another angsty one was up next. 

Baby Let Me Explain To You I'm Sayin

What You Sayin

It's Not Even Like That

It Wasn't Like That But I Saw You

Your eyes glanced up at Fez across the table from you but his eyes were already on you. Your eyes became angry as you glared at him then went back to your plate. Fez just sighed. Ash rushed to finish his food so he could hurry up and leave before things got more tense. 

It was almost noon now, so it was time for Marie’s bath. On weekend’s when you came over, you volunteered to help Fez with his grandma. You always called it girl time and you weren’t going to let your anger at her grandson stop that.

“You won’t believe what your grandson did now,” you spoke to the old woman. Just because she was bedridden and couldn’t speak, didn’t mean you couldn’t keep her updated on what was going on.

“He forgot that I was coming over,” you said as you moved the warm towel up and down her arm. “And on top of that, he went to a party. Without me!” 

As usual, you were met with silence. Fezco spoke so highly of his grandma when he first told you about her. Kitty was a badass. You hoped she would have liked you. Fez always said she would have loved you. 

“I know Mouse’s punk ass dumped more product on him than usual, but if Fez would have told me he was going, I wouldn’t have mind.” 

It was quiet for a moment. Just the sound of you dumping the towel back in the water then ringing it out. 

“I know this is mostly my issue of being forgotten and I’m making a big deal out it, but it hurts.”

You were so busy in your own head and giving Marie her bath that you didn’t hear Fez’s footsteps coming down the hall. He was at his grandmother’s door listening to everything you said. He was so upset with himself over the situation. There you were, giving his bedridden grandmother a sponge bath after he made you angry. Most people would have said screw it and not done anything for Fez. But that morning you made his brother breakfast and now this. God, he loved you. He had to find a way to make it up to you. 

After you were done with Marie, Ash convinced you to drive him to the mall so he could get some new shoes. You decided to make an afternoon of it since you weren’t planning on doing anything with Fez today. The two of you went to the movies after he bought his shoes. You paid for the tickets and he paid for the snacks. You told him he didn’t have to buy the snacks since you’re the one who decided to see a movie, but Ash insisted. Sometimes he would go to the movies with you and Fez, so he was just doing what he always saw. Fez would buy the tickets, and you would buy the snacks... well, sneak them in your purse. It was cute that Ash did that. You kissed him on the head and he wiped it off.

By the time you made it back to the O’Neil house, it was around 6. Ash asked you to drop him off at his friend’s place and said he would call you when he was ready to go. You were happy Ash was doing some normal child things, but you were bummed because that meant it would just be you and Fez. You started to think you should just forgive him. No point in holding out a grudge this pointless for too long. 

You used your key to get in and walked down the hall to drop your shopping bag by the couch, but the dim lighting and candles through you off. Cautiously, you looked around. It was way too quiet. 

You heard soft footsteps coming down the hall then turned to see your boyfriend in dress pants and a button down shirt holding your favorite flowers. 

“Hey,” Fez said softly.

“Hey,” you replied back just as soft. 

He walked closer to you then handed you the bouquet. “I got you these.”

You glanced down at the flowers then into Fez’s eyes as you reached out to grab the bouquet. Fez saw the small smile on your face and took that as a good sign. 

“I’m sorry, ma. I didn’t mean to forget our date or you comin’ over. It slipped my mind, but it ain’t gonna happen again.”

“I know, Fez. And I’m sorry, too,” you said, a hint of sadness in your voice.

Fez’s face scrunched up in confusion. “What you sorry fo’?”

You shook your head. “For ignoring you. For getting that mad at something so small.”

Fez walked closer to you shaking his head, grabbing your free hand. “Nah, you had a right to be mad. It was important to you that I remembered our date, and I didn’t. I don’t wanna ever make you feel bad and that’s what I did.”

Your hand tightened around Fez’s. Your eyes glanced around before they landed on Fez’s piercing eyes. “I just... I have issues with being forgotten about.” Fez slowly stepped in closer to you and you automatically leaned into him. He grabbed the flowers from your hand, placing them on the table so he could grab your other hand as well. You laid your head on his chest.

“You don’t have to worry about that with me, ma,” Fez said reassuringly, making you nuzzle in closer to him. “You, Ash, and Grandma are the most important people in my life. Even if I slip up n’ miss a date, I could never forget you. I love you too much.”

You let go of Fez’s hands and wrapped them around his waist squeezing him tightly. “I love you too.” 

Although you were no longer looking at him, Fez could hear it in your voice that were crying now. Fez wrapped one arm around you, and used his other to lift your face so he could look at you.

“Don’t cry, baby. You know I hate that.”

You sniffled, trying to stop the tears from falling. “I know. I just feel bad. I shouldn’t have ignored you.”

Fezco kissed your forehead, his lips lingering for just a moment. “It’s done. But let’s promise not to ignore each other, ‘kay?”

You nodded then exhaled trying to calm yourself down. “Okay.”

“Good,” Fez replied. He stepped back from you, your hands dropping down beside you, then he grabbed your hand and began leading you to your spot at the table. “Now, let’s enjoy this food I made.”

“You made this,” you asked smiling as you looked down at the delicious food in the center of the table. Fez could hear the doubt in your voice.

He pulled your chair out for you before he answered. “Well, I paid for it and put it on the nice glass plates. That’s basically makin’ it.”

“You made it look nice. You didn’t make it,” you corrected, giggling at him. You reached your hand out on top of the table once Fez sat down across from you. He took that as a sign you wanted to hold his hand. He reached out, his fingers interlacing with yours. “I love it though,” you told him. Your voice sweet like the syrup on a snow cone. “And I love you,” you added, squeezing his hand.

Fez’s lips curled up into a smile. He knows you mean it. Despite whatever happens, you always mean it.  “Love you too, ma.”

[xxsksxxx]

Almost Heaven

Summary:

Mulder’s attempt to find more exciting cases to investigate while stuck in the bullpen turns into another weekend trip to the forest.

Meanwhile, Scully is faced with a tempting offer that could change both her future and their lives.

This story is complete, and I’m going to post one chapter a day.

AO3 | Back to the Beginning | @today-in-fic

Chapter 6: Misty Taste of Moonshine, Teardrop in My Eye

Alpos Lodge and Inn, Davis, WV Mulder’s motel room 7:00 p.m.

A rapid sequence of knocks against his motel room door made Mulder jump in his seat and turn his head towards the sound. He’d been engrossed in his notes, trying to figure out where they’d gone wrong today. There had to be an explanation why they hadn’t found the Mothman Mr. Murphy had seen. There were just too many signs that it had been near that clearing.

Another knock, followed by his name, slightly muffled. Scully, he thought and got out of his chair. The sudden movement made the room spin for a second, and he closed his eyes against the dizziness. This feels like a concussion, he thought. Better make sure that Scully doesn’t catch it, or we’re going to the hospital. He quickly moved towards the door and opened it.

“Fancy seeing you here, Scully,” he quipped while Scully was already brushing past him into his room. She had taken a shower already and changed clothes, he noticed. He gave his wet pants and shirt a rueful glance. Maybe he should’ve done that first as well, before checking his notes.

Scully turned to him and gave him the once-over. It was probably only his imagination, but for a moment it almost looked like she was checking him out. He shook his head. Scully was most likely just wondering why he was still in the dirty and wet clothes he’d been wearing all day.

He hurried over to the bathroom and got a towel to rub at his hair—and regretted it immediately when he involuntarily put pressure on the little bump at the back of his head. A glance towards Scully made sure that she didn’t see him flinch. There was no way he was going to go to the hospital tonight.

“I can’t figure out why we couldn’t find any more traces of the Mothman,” he called back into the room where Scully had picked up his notes, reading with raised eyebrows.

“My guess would be it’s because it doesn’t exist,” she replied dryly without looking up.

“I was thinking about going back first thing tomorrow morning and checking if the gunmen have any reports on sightings in the area.” He lowered the towel to look hopefully at her. “If we leave at seven, get some breakfast on the way, we could be back in D.C. by ten, eleven at the latest, and get Frohike to do his magic.”

Scully put the notes down and turned to Mulder, who was still leaning against the doorjamb to the bathroom with the wet towel draped over his head, looking hopeful. “Or we could just—” she stopped in the middle of the sentence.

Mulder watched her, curious about what she was going to say next. “Just what, Scully? You want to go back into the forest and see if we have more luck without Murphy there?” He put the towel down and toed the wet shoes off his feet, carelessly kicking them into a corner of his room, then turned to Scully in surprise. “Or are you suggesting we check tonight?” He gave her a thoughtful look. “That might be a good idea, actually. Maybe that’s why we didn’t find anything today. Mothmen have historically been spotted more often in the dark.”

Scully gave him a confused look. “What? Mulder, no. That’s not what I was thinking at all.” She took a step closer, grabbing his forearm lightly. “We could just take a break. You know, relax a bit. Possibly watch a movie or something. Have some dinner?”

He chuckled. “A movie? Sure, we can do that. I think I saw a takeout menu next to the phone. We can order some pizza if you want.” He shrugged and turned towards the chipped side table with a phone on it. Sure enough, a leaf-eared, greasy takeout menu was sitting right next to it. “Why don’t you check if there’s anything on we can watch?” he said, pointing at the TV.

He bent down to pick up the brochure and winced when a sharp pain pulsed through the tender bump at the back of his head. Mulder tried to hide his reaction quickly, but sure enough, Scully, who’d been watching him the whole time, noticed.

Her eyes turned concerned as she stepped closer, and the line between her brows stood out in sharp relief. “Mulder, are you okay? Did you hit your head?”

He waved her off with a dismissive hand. “Not really. Just a little bump, Scully.” He picked up the takeout menu, avoiding her gaze, hoping to steer the conversation away from himself.

Scully raised her hand, trying to examine his head for any trauma. “Let me check, just to be sure. Head injuries can be dangerous. If you have a concussion, maybe we should—”

Mulder gently pushed her hand away, before her hand could reach his head. “Really, Scully, it’s nothing. I just met with a branch that didn’t want to let me through earlier. It’s just a little tender. I don’t have a concussion. Hard head, remember?” he joked, simulating giving the side of his head a few knocks with his knuckles.

Scully sighed, her arm dropping to her side. “Alright, but promise me you’ll let me know if you start feeling dizzy.”

“Indian scout’s honor,” Mulder said, raising his fingers into a boy scout salute. He turned back to the menu, trying to change the subject. “So, what kind of pizza do you want?”

Scully hesitated. “I was thinking… maybe we could use this time to relax. Take a break. We’ve been stuck in that bullpen for months now, bored out of our minds. Why not use this weekend to enjoy ourselves a bit? Have a nice dinner somewhere. Maybe watch a movie or visit a museum in D.C. when we’re back?”

Mulder looked up, a bit puzzled. “A break? But we still don’t know what Mr. Murphy saw. If we don’t stay on it now, we might never find out! Don’t you want to work on this? This is the closest we had to an X-File in weeks.”

Mulder watched as Scully’s expression changed and turned into an unreadable mask. Only her eyes were filled with an emotion that Mulder couldn’t quite place, he noticed, surprised. He felt a pang of confusion as he watched her force a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes.

“Right. You’re right, Mulder. We should stay focused on the case if we want to get more information on that Mothman.” Her voice was steady, but there was an underlying tension that made Mulder uneasy. He tried to meet her eyes again, but she was keeping her face turned away now.

She turned away slowly, her movements slightly stiff but very deliberate. She covered her mouth with her hand, suppressing a yawn that looked utterly fake to Mulder. “But I think I’m going to get some rest instead, then, Mulder. If we want to be back in D.C. and at the gunmen’s before 10, I probably should turn in early.”

Mulder watched her move towards the door, utterly bewildered by her sudden departure. He instinctively reached out with his hand, moving to give her shoulder the usual squeeze, a habit that had become a ritual of comfort for him in the last few months.

But when he squeezed her shoulder, she didn’t lean into him, like she usually did, or put her hand on his, squeezing it back. Instead, she was as rigid as a board, not moving or reacting to his touch at all. It was a small but significant change that left him feeling slightly unsettled, even if he couldn’t pinpoint why.

Mulder followed her retreat towards the door with his eyes. She never turned back around.

“Goodnight, Mulder,” she said while walking out and closing the door softly behind her, the click reverberating in Mulder’s head far louder than it actually had been.

“Goodnight, Scully,” he replied quietly, staring at the closed door. His intuition was screaming at him that something more was going on than her being tired and wanting to get an early start. His stomach tightened. He replayed their conversation of the last ten minutes in his head, trying to pinpoint what he had missed. She wanted a break to relax from the boredom of their current mind-numbing assignment. He could sympathize with that—which was after all one of the reasons why he’d asked her to come along. He’d thought she’d enjoy a good mystery—that he’d remind her how much fun these cases could be.

Shaking his head in confusion, Mulder decided to let it rest for the night. He’d ask her tomorrow. And if she really wanted to go see a museum, maybe they could go tomorrow afternoon after all, after they’d talked to the gunmen. He shivered, remembering his now damp and clammy clothes, and headed for the shower, hoping the hot water would warm him up a bit.

But while he carefully soaped up his hair with the little motel soap, avoiding the tender area at the back of his head, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he had missed something. Something important.

[modern-day-bard]

Other Duties As Assigned: A Joel Miller Fanfiction

Content Warning: 18+ This story includes mature themes such as drinking, stalking, violence, and explicit smut. Minors, do not interact.

Chapter 5: Hide-and-Seek

Quick a/n: I’m trying to post two chapters (one of each POV) at once whenever I do post. I’m traveling today, so Chapter 6 (Joel’s POV), might be up a little later. Tomorrow at the latest! I will most likely be posting it on ao3 first (nothing makes me feel more inept than the time it takes for me to move chapters over to Tumblr). I hope you enjoy! 🫶🏻

Gwen

I always feel best when my apartment is full. At least when I’m the one who decides who is filling it. And also the one who decides who leaves. I did my best not to act surprised when Joel agreed to leave me alone for a few hours, though I suppose the compromise was he was going to be at the gym just a couple of floors down. A small part of me wonders if he was returning the small respect I paid him the other night…But I hope he’s smart enough to know that it was a one-time deal. We were even now.

Our dreadful partnership has reached the two-week mark, so it’s also possible that he trusts me a bit more, but it’s doubtful. I can see it in the way his hands twitch and the way he watches me. He’s always waiting for me to sprint out of the place with no forewarning. A flight risk. And tonight was the ultimate test.

Another reason he may have agreed to give me my space for a while is the fact that Mateo, Aria, Nyah, Harper, and Landon were all coming over to get ready for Harper’s birthday celebration. I promised, even with my fingers mentally crossed, that I would tell him when we were ready to leave. I had also promised that we would all be getting our hair and makeup done for hours and be trying on several outfits, most likely in the living room. As soon as he saw Mateo and Aria enter with suitcases full of glam, he muttered something about the gym, got changed, and left.

I do wonder how long someone can stay at the gym, because it’s already been at least two hours. As Mateo paints the last of a deep red on my lips, I try to imagine what sort of regime is required of a bodyguard. He was built, clearly. I could see that even through his plain, repetitive outfits. They actually suited him in a way. I try to picture Joel in a suit like the ones I’m usually surrounded by—

“I know you can’t exactly talk right now, but you could at least blink once for no and twice for yes.” Nyah chastises me out of the corner of my eye. Right. She had just been asking my opinion on her shoes. Not that anyone would be looking at her feet tonight. Her hair was cascading down almost to her butt, and she had on a tight white dress that flattered her curves tremendously. She could go barefoot and no one would even notice.

“Ta eye ess ell onns,” I try to respond.

Mateo pulls back from my lips, laughing, “Try again.”

“The YSL ones!” I point to the white pumps, laughing too.

“Really?” Nyah doesn’t look convinced. “Birthday Girl, what do you think?” She holds up a pink pair and a white pair to Harper, who’s busy getting her hair pinned up in the chair next to me.

“Um…I think they’re both really cute!” Harper flashes her signature, sweet smile.

“That means she disagrees with Gwen!” Landon calls from the sofa.

Harper’s face turns bright pink as she glares at them. “No it does not!” Then she pauses, glancing down at her hands, “It just means I really like pink.”

All of us crack up, and I reach over to squeeze Harper’s hand.

“Birthday Girl rules,” Nyah declares, slipping into the bubblegum heels.

“Landon, remind me to call you out on your birthday.” I shoot them a smirk, which just earns me an eye-roll.

“What are you wearing, Gwen?” Nyah asks.

“Evenlyn sent over some options, but obviously, they weren’t up to par.”

“She still wants you to dress like a politician's wife?”

“Of course,” I say wryly, and Harper snorts.

Nyah smiles at Landon, “We were hoping you’d say that.”

“Alright, you’re done,” Mateo stands back to examine his work. I glance in the mirror before blowing him a kiss.

“Marvelous, as always,” I say as Landon drops a bag at my feet. “What’s this?”

“Nye and I went shopping for tonight, just to have some backups.”

I grin, opening the crisp white bag to find a strappy, sparkly gold mini dress. With the makeup and the loose hair Mateo and Aria had given me, it’s like they knew. Knowing Nyah and Landon, they probably did.

“I love it. Why aren’t you my stylist instead of Evelyn?”

Landon chuckles, “Because I don’t want your dad to hire a hitman on me.”

I wack their arm, “Like I would ever allow that.”

“I’d need a bodyguard at that point, too.”

“Speaking of,” Harper pipes up as she admires the updo Aria gave her in the mirror, “Where is he? Nyah said he was cute.”

“Nyah hasn’t even met him.” I stand up, shimmying the dress in my hands to see how the light catches it.

Nye leans against the fireplace, cocking a brow at me. “I know that Gwen didn’t say he wasn’t, which means he is.”

Both Harper and Landon’s gazes zero in on my face for my reaction.

“Whatever he is, he is the biggest pain in my ass. I’m spending more time in my room now than I did when I was a teenager just to avoid him. You can feel him constantly staring, watching your every move. Just you wait, he’ll annoy all of you, too. You’ll feel suffocated by the end of the night.” The five of them are looking down at my hands now, and I realize that I’ve clenched all the sequins up in my fists. “Sorry.”

“At the same time, maybe it’s good?” Harper asks gently.

“I agree,” Nye says as I simultaneously ask, “What do you mean?”

Harper shrugs, “You have a lot of eyes on you, and probably more money than all of our families combined. It could be a nice added level of safety…” Harper trails off when she looks at my face.

“They’re doing it to keep me in line, Harper.” I keep my voice level. Out of everyone in my life, she’s the last I’d want to blow up on. “They’re trying to…watch me. Prevent me from doing something stupid again.”

“Like the foundation gala?” Landon asks.

“No, like…” I look between all of their expectant faces, and I feel my chest clench, caging in all the things I can’t tell them. “Yeah, actually, I guess.”

Nyah’s eyes narrow, “What does that—”

The elevator dings, and six pairs of eyes turn to see Joel exiting. He stalks into the apartment, his hoodie clutched tightly in his left hand, his right holding his phone. Not yet aware of his audience, his eyes fixated on his screen, he grabs a water bottle from the fridge. Taking a long swig, his sneakers squeak as he halts, noticing all of us staring. And with a sideways look at my friends, I can’t blame them for gawking. Joel’s black compression shirt is impossibly tight, made tighter by the sweat gleaming off his skin. His complexion is flushed, and I swear it's gotten worse now that he’s noticed us. With a nearly audible swallow, I toss my hair back behind my shoulder.

“Mr. Miller, these are my guests,” he approaches the living room now, taking another long sip from his water bottle. Now that he’s up close, I can see actual droplets sliding down his neck. A neck that now has several of his waves stuck to it. I hadn’t noticed how wavy his hair was. “Um, this is Mateo, Aria, Nyah, Harper, and Landon.” I point to everyone in turn. His eyes flit to each of them before I’m even done pointing. I tried not to think about what information he was briefed on before we met, but now I’m guessing my inner circle was included in that report.

“Good to meet you all. I would shake your hands, but,” Joel holds up his full hands in front of him, “Sweaty.”

“I’ll say,” Nyah gives him a flirtatious smile and I feel a flicker of something in my stomach.

“Yeah, sorry,” He is either totally oblivious, or a master of avoidance. “I’m going to take a shower. When should I be ready to leave?”

“About ten minutes.” I say.

Joel nods, “Alright,” he turns to leave before adding, “If anyone has any security questions or concerns, feel free to let me know.” And with that, he’s off down the hall.

I turn back to my friends. Harper’s jaw is on the floor, Landon is smirking at me, and Nyah is smirking to herself.

Mateo and Aria just look at me, confused. “I thought we were leaving at nine?” Mateo checks his watch.

“We are.”

“Then why did you tell him ten minutes? He has at least thirty.”

“She wants him out of here as soon as possible. Death by irritation. Though Gwen, I can’t imagine why.” Nyah shakes her head at me.

“I’m trying to make him as uncomfortable as I can.”

“I have to agree with Nye on this one, and ask…why? Won’t they just assign you another bodyguard if he doesn’t work out?” Landon asks.

“Of course. But I’ll just rinse and repeat until the word gets out that I’m a nightmare to work with, or my dad and his advisers get too tired of looking.”

Aria clicks her tongue. “You want to be known as a nightmare?”

“I mean, not really. But I don’t want to be followed all the time, either.”

“I still think it could be good for your safety.” Harper adds.

“Well, enough about my safety for now. He can keep us all safe tonight while we celebrate you. Speaking of, you need to get dressed! We’re wheels up in ten, but really thirty, minutes.”

Harper giggles and hops up from her chair. “I hope you all know you’re taking a shot of rum before we leave!”

Nyah gives me a nauseated look and I just shake my head, knowing she’s remembering the scorpion bowls. Still too soon.

A very prompt ten minutes later, Joel comes out dressed in a black button down this time, which had to be one his only clothing items I’ve yet to see him in. With his bag being so small anyway. This may be the first time he will actually blend in, if only it weren’t for that ever present grimace on his face. I take this as an opportunity to ask Harper to help me into my dress. I make a show of untying my robe, forcing Joel to turn around completely.

“A little warning, Gwen.” Landon protests, shielding their eyes.

“I believe it’s part of ‘the plan,’” Nyah whispers to them.

I shoot Landon an apologetic smile before dropping my robe to the floor as Harper hands me the unzipped dress.

“Gwen, babe, you’ll need a little… coverage,” Mateo points out as he takes my robe.

“I’m not sure I can get away with underwear in this dress. It will snag on the lining and ruin how the sequins sit.” A complete lie. Mateo knows it, too, as he gives me a knowing look. I hear Joel cough—more like splutter—several times as I slip into the sparkles. I feel like I’m dripping gold, though it is much shorter than anticipated. I suppose that might actually aid my situation; trying to get Joel to look away as much as possible. With that thought in mind, I choose platform heels this time.

We take our time bowing down to Harper, who looks like a fairy goddess in her mint green dress and sparkly gold heels. The colors compliment her red hair perfectly, and she is beaming ear to ear with every picture we insist on taking of her. Nyah and Harper are on one of the sofas, posing on either end when Harper demands that we all get a photo together.

“Mr. Miller, would you mind?” She asks sweetly.

“Not at all,” I see the hint of a smile on his face. The six of us pile on the couch, trying our best to model while flopping limb over limb.

“Alright photographer, you deserve a shot for that!” Harper hops up, grabbing the neck of the bottle closest to her.

Joel looks startled when she brings it up to him. “I’m sorry, Ms. Bryne, but I’m on the clock.”

“Oh, right,” Harper takes a swig herself, not at all bothered by the fact that Joel knew her last name. I shoot him a look that he ignores.

“Okay, let’s get this show on the road!” I call the elevator and Joel comes up to stand next to me. I guess we’re starting early with The Watchful Eyes this evening.

“You aren’t bringing a jacket?” He asks as I step past the sliding doors.

“Why would I need one? With you standing so close to me all night I’m practically wearing you.”

Landon lets out a whistle while Nyah bites her lip to keep from laughing. Harper just gapes at me, wide-eyed. I know I’ll get shit for this later, for how rude I’m being. But if they knew the depth of it…I shake that thought from my head and grab Harper’s hand, pulling her in the elevator. It’s crowded with all seven of us, and I mentally thank the past version of myself for asking Rodney to take the bigger car tonight.

When Joel sees the Escalade, he leans down to me. “Your uh, wardrobe team? They’re coming with us?” He whispers, tickling my ear.

“Of course,” I say, pulling away from him. Why would he ask that? “Also, ‘wardrobe team’ sounds like I own a carpentry shop. They’re a glam squad. Or just say Mateo and Aria.” Glancing up, realizing how earnestly he’s listening to me, I can’t help but add, “Please.”

“Yes, Miss Russell.”

The car ride to the club was so boisterous, I���m shocked neither Joel nor Rodney plugged their ears. Granted, Rod seems to be tuned out at all times. I’m pretty sure that’s how he navigates the streets of New York so quickly. When we arrive at Tea Time, Harper squeals as we exit the car.

“You’re kidding me! How did you get us in?” She asks.

“You can thank Landon for this one, actually,” I say as the bouncer lets all of us pass, despite the groans coming from the dozens of people waiting in line.

Harper beams at Landon, and they shrug. “The owner has had his eye on a painting in my parents gallery for months. I said I would consult with them and let him know.”

“All this just for consulting with your parents?” Nyah raises a brow at them.

“What can I say? People love exclusively. If I agreed to sell it to him, it’d be too easy. He has to impress us first…” Landon gestures to the club before us. And it was packed. The entire ceiling was made up of disco balls, with any empty space being occupied with vines suspended from above, trickling down just far enough to still be out of reach from the dancing patrons. I thought with the name there would be more of a garden party theme, but it’s like a disco fairy wonderland in here. Completely up Harper’s alley, it even matches her outfit. I can see why she’s been begging us to try and come here for months.

A tall woman dressed in a disco ball-esque dress leads us to our table. A table that has been decked out in a champagne tower, complete with a birthday crown that is promptly added to Harper’s updo. Mateo stands on the table to pour the champagne tower until all the glasses overflow, and we all take turns chugging. The music around us is so loud you can feel it in your feet, and my whole body buzzes. This is what I wanted. To feel my age, to feel normal. I want to dance away the stress of these past few months and drink and blend in with the crowd.

A wish that is made increasingly more difficult by Joel Miller.

He refuses even to sit down, standing with his hands folded, remaining even more vigilant than the bouncers. A waitress with fairy wings has already asked him three times if he’d want something to drink, and even as she bats her eyelashes, he still doesn’t watch her as she walks past.

“You know,” I have to practically shout for Nyah to hear me, “If I want to actually let loose tonight I’m gonna have to shake this guy.”

“‘This guy’ meaning your bodyguard?” Nyah asks even as she sways to the music on the black leather couch.

I nod. “I thought he might be distracted by beautiful women, but apparently he’s too dedicated.”

“Maybe he’s not into girls?”

It would have helped in this instance if I had spent literally any time at all getting to know him.

“Could be.”

“Who cares? Let’s just go dance! There’s so many people here, he can’t watch you that closely when we’re in the crowd.” Nyah is already slurring her words a little, but she finishes her second glass of champagne and grabs my hand.

“We’re going dancing!” She yells at our group in a way that means dancing is now mandatory. I quickly slip out of her grasp and make my way, slightly wobbly, over to Joel.

“Mr. Miller,” I shout, and he bends down so he can listen, “I’m going dancing now! You will actually have a better view of me if you stay here.” I pull back to look him in the eye and he seems…amused?

“Are you telling me how to do my job?”

Oh, he definitely has some snark to him. “I was merely suggesting. Asking, even. If I could have that space we talked about.”

His eyes search my face for a moment. “Go have fun.”

I almost say thank you, but choose a nod instead before turning on my heel and following the trail of my friends into the middle of the dance floor. Phase one: separation, complete.

Now onto phase two: the escape.

I didn’t plan it. Not completely. But as soon as I’m in the crowd, my eardrums filled with laughter and the kind of music that beckons you to move your hips, I know I’m running tonight.

A packed club is disorienting to anyone, and from the glances I occasionally get of Miller at the table, it’s not an environment he’s familiar with. Or maybe standing cross-armed and stone-faced is his way of having fun. Maybe he’ll have even more fun playing hide-and-seek.

Harper has commanded all of us to be in a dance-circle for the past half hour until a pixie-like girl taps her on the shoulder. In addition to her chopped black hair, she literally resembles a pixie. She had large green wings that fanned out behind her and shimmered in the light. By the way Harper tips her head back to laugh, I’m assuming she’s her type.

Mateo and Aria call out something about doing a lap around the dance floor, and the remaining three of us give them a nod. Landon has never been much of a dancer, but I know they’re putting on a brave face for Harper. And probably for the rest of us, for that matter.

They lean between Nyah and I, asking, “How much longer until I can sneak home?”

“Already? I’ve been trying to get you to go out for weeks!” Nyah whines, grabbing their hand and swinging it to the beat.

“Honestly, I’m on the same page.” I say as low as the music will allow.

Both of them narrow their eyes at me. “For a different reason, I’m assuming.” Landon says.

I nod, not wanting to tell them enough that they’ll feel they have to lie for me. “I’m just saying that if I disappear, don’t worry about it.” I wink.

“Noted,” Landon groans as Nyah twirls them around, but by the end of the spin, they’ve cracked a smile.

I’m smiling back at them until I feel a hand on my lower back. Why do strangers—men—always feel the need to touch your lower back?

I glance up anyway to see a pair of pretty green eyes.

“Can I help you?” I ask.

“I hope so,” He grins. “I’m in need of a dance partner.”

I glance around to my friends, but they’re further away. This guy wasn’t the first to approach, but we were a unit before. Now with our group dispersing, I’m worried it will prompt Joel to leave his station and get closer, making my escape even more complicated.

“I might be in need of one, too.” I feign a bashful smile, and he eats it right up, securing a hand on my hip.

It only takes one more song for the man to grab both of my hips fully, pinning me against him. I want to roll my eyes, but at least he smells nice. I reach my hand back to rest on his neck, and he takes it as an opportunity to bend forward and whisper in my ear.

“You know what I think would make you even sexier?”

Barf. “Hmm?” I close my eyes, trying to look like I’m being pulled in by his words.

“If you took a ride on my bike.”

My eyes snap open. Karma was on my side tonight. “You have a motorcycle?” The excitement in my voice doesn’t have to be faked.

“Sure do. It’s parked only a couple streets away.”

Bingo.

I turn around to face him, wrapping my hands around his neck. He really was attractive, and I normally liked green eyes. He just…isn’t quite doing it for me. I just think the plan takes precedence over his personality tonight. It was only one night, anyway. I could do a lot worse.

“How about a little role-play?” His eyes grow wide at my words, nodding enthusiastically. “We should dance for a little while longer, but when I say so, we need to book it out of here like our lives depend on it. We can pretend we’re running from the law.”

He looks moderately confused, but he’s also fairly distracted by the view down my dress.

“Sound like a plan?”

“Absolutely.” He turns me around, pushing my back forward so that I reach toward the floor. I make sure to look toward Miller again, and sure enough, he looks mortified, quickly glancing the other way.

I smile to myself, rolling my body on my way back up. The next time one of those waitresses gets his attention, timing it just right with a little PDA from my dance partner, and I’m out of here. How far can he run in those rugged old boots of his?

Game on, Miller. Game on.

Previous chapter

Masterlist

[waywardxwords]

Hiii friends! I’m so sorry I have been MIA this week. I had to travel for work and I truly thought I’d get so much writing done, but the days were long and I found myself going to bed early every night.

I came back to so many likes, reblogs, mentions, etc. and I usually always try to say thank you or acknowledge them but it might take me a minute (or 100) to get caught up.

The good news: my trip inspired a new Dean one shot, so I’m hoping to get that posted tonight (or tomorrow at the absolute latest because ya girl is exhausted).

More to come!! ♥️

[simonjcurd]

I’m trying out Tumblr again. It’s been a while. I used to post ballpoint drawings of animals here in the late 00s. Thought it might be nice to write about things that are going on in amongst the usual progress pics too.

Not that I have loads to say. My cat is a bit poorly and it being a weekend with the vets closed is bad timing. I’m doing the Make More Stuff fair at Left Bank, Leeds tomorrow too so that’ll either take my mind off it or make the whole thing extra stressful. The fair should be great otherwise – the venue is really nice and the lineup includes a bunch of friends I’ve made at things like this over the past few years.

As well as the usual art prints I’m still working away at comic ideas in the background. First up is a single-sheet, eight page thing as a way to see how long it takes (very long), then I have an idea for a longer form story that’s still just a collection of notes and sketches but I’m very keen to get stuck into.

Off to see Death Cab for Cutie tonight. Mostly hoping for older stuff although the latest album is my favourite they’ve done in quite a while so should be good whatever. Wish I hadn’t just realised that I first saw them probably 20 years ago.

[jinzhousitu]

Week 13 creative act

Me: Jack, have you read the latest assignment for this course on canvas? I think everyone should have a lot of questions about this presentation. We should arrange a meeting and focus on the arrangement of presentation task allocation.

Jack: Your suggestion is good. I will ask everyone in GroupMe tonight when they would like to have a meeting.

Me: OK.

Me: I have read the replies of everyone in GroupMe, and they said yesterday that we can have a meeting at 8:00 pm tomorrow evening to discuss the task assignment of the presentation.

Jack: That’s great. Let’s go together at 8:00 pm tomorrow evening to discuss the presentation arrangement. By then, everyone will have finished dinner and we will have plenty of time.

Me: Based on today’s meeting records, I think everyone has different opinions on the presentation. Some people think that this part of the presentation should be added, while others think that some unnecessary details should be added. I think we may have to slowly revise the presentation draft for the problems that constantly arise in the future.

Jack: Your idea is very good, because many problems can not be found at the beginning, and constantly solving the problem is the best solution.

Me: Jack, I have finished my part of the presentation. How did you do?

Jack: That’s great, but I still have a lot of work to do. The other assignments took up so much of my time yesterday that I didn’t have enough time to do what I should have done.

Me: That sounds awful. Is there anything I can do for you?

Jack: I want to add a nice picture next to my paragraph, but I’m a little confused about which one to choose. Could you help me pick one out and put it on? Thank you!

Me: No problem, I’ve already picked out a fantastic picture on it.

Jack: Wow! It looks great and your aesthetic is amazing!

Me: Thank you!

Jack: This picture really seems to match the theme of our presentation, both the color and composition are excellent. I believe the professor will like this presentation very much, and I hope we can get a good score on it.

Me: I hope so. The score for this presentation is too large for the total score of this course. If you want to get a good grade in this course, you must get a high score in this presentation.

[mrkis]

oh my god!!! i will have the playlists done by tonight or tomorrow at the latest IM SOOOO EXCITED i already have so many ideas

thank you sooo so much for the info about each series. it’s definitely helped me out a lot <3

i’m really looking forward to jungwoo’s and jeno’s the most!!! <333 I LOVEEE MESSY AND TOXIC oh my god bring the cheating trope on. i’m actually super excited for this one. jungwoo’s character already seems so interesting cus he’s also conflicted and morally not straight if he’s giving into the mc too and YES i love that i want MESSY i want CHAOS i want ANGST i want ROUGH ANGRY SEX AND CHEATING i want their lives to become a mess

i’m so ready for jeno to fall in love with the main character who probably represents all of us 🥹🥹🥹 cus i’m kinda like her LMAO im a homebody and i don’t like partying that much and i don’t really like drugs and i care more about education and my job!!! so like jeno falling for her is super interesting… makes me think she must be some sort of fucking beauty and stand out when she doesn’t want to because if you get the attention of THE lee jeno, he’s like a god on campus isn’t he ? 😭😭😭 everyone wants him but he wants HER (why you mc) AHHHH FUCK BRING IT ON. it gives me hope like it’s a win for us shy girls, WE FINALLY GOT HIM <333 no more yeeuns and miwoo’s LMAO (i love miwoo tho dw) jeno falling for someone unlike him it’s PERFECT cus still he’s quite sweet and emotionally mature. i love a good opposites attract UGH ur perfect for this

tonight/tomorrow?!? please please please please take all the time you need, there's absolutely no rush. please do not overwork yourself with this, truly. im very appreciative but please, dont force yourself to get it done so quick !!

but yeaahhhh jungwoos series is going to be messy as fuck and im lowkey excited to try it out. i love writing angsty messy stuff in fiction and im hoping to portray that in boyfren !! i was really proud of the synopsis i came up with it LMFAO. but anyways. very messy. jungwoos is going to be an interesting character to write.

and yes, jeno is very well known and popular within the neo tech college universe. everyone knows him. everyone wants him. hes hot. hes smart. perfect package fr. im looking forward to writing the opposites attract of it all !!! i think its going to be fun :) and im lowkey really excited to see how wy!mc is going to turn out too

[kumkaniudaku]

It took 83 years but I got it together. Thank God for Beyoncé and @sh-kira. I hope y'all enjoy.

DO US PART

Galveston, Texas - 1979

“Now, folks, this here is a robbery. If you don’t mind, me and my lady here’s gonna take all the money in that there safe. Understand?” 

The teller, face white with fear save for the pink blush on her cheeks, freezes and looks at the security guard near the front door. His hand trembles slightly on the handle of his pistol while another is pressed tight against his temple. 

His assailant gets close enough to whisper in his ear, her Baton Rouge accent thick and her voice husky. “You wanna make it back home tonight, love? Don’t do that.” 

Her partner follows the teller’s gaze and back before looking at her with a smile. 

“Oh, sweetheart, he can’t save you. Nobody can. You’re here with me now. Tell him to take his hand of his weapon. Quick now.” 

She pauses, allowing a single tear to fall from her left eye as she tries to get something, anything, to breach her lips and warn her colleague. 

“5…4…3,” the man began in a slow countdown as he pulls a blade from his jacket’s front pocket. “Hurry, sweetheart. We gotta get going.” 

“H-Hank, take your -” 

A single gunshot finishes her sentence. Hank crumples to the ground as patrons scream in horror. They dare not run knowing a similar fate awaited them. 

“Shame,” the man spoke without removing his attention from the teller. “You understand what I’m askin’ now? You gon’ open that safe?”

Trembling, the teller offered a stiff nod in response. She earns a smile from the angel of death. The gold caps covering his teeth gleamed in the sunlight as a sick thank you. 

“That’s what I like to hear. C’mon here.” 

--------

LATER

Classic television played in the background for no other reason than to trick the senses into focusing on anything other than the strong smell emanating from the bathroom. Bleach couldn’t get rid of all the blood but it could make even the grimiest motel feel like home for the night. 

They'd have a more permanent home if they could make it past tomorrow’s sunset. Maybe somewhere in Southern California where the weather was always sunny and the ocean waves washed away your sins if you believed hard enough. 

But, just in case trouble kicked up, two pistols equipped with 18 rounds and engraved with their common law initials sat crossed over the other on a dark oak nightstand. 

On the bed, outlaw lovers lay tangled across the spoils of their latest conquest. Yahya, the brains of the operation, thumbed through a stack of bills with expert precision while Adelle touched up the cherry red nail lacquer on her long nails. 

“I think I oughtta start using the blade,” Adelle said as she examined her work. “At least until we settle down and I can get my nails done again. What you think?” 

“What? You don’t like the pistol anymore?” 

“It’s messy. I’m a lady. I can’t keep getting my hands dirty like this.” 

Yahya chuckled and looked at his lover over fanned-out bills. “We get to Los Angeles and you can have whatever you want, baby. That house with the pool in the back…”

“The carport?” Adelle asks, her eyes twinkling with excitement as she placed her nail polish on the nightstand next to both pistols. “And you know I gotta have a second level. The kids gotta sleep somewhere.” 

“You can have three levels. We got the money and then some.” 

The certainty in his voice made her squeal and clap her hands together like a child while he pulled her closer with one strong hand. 

He’d promised her years ago that he’d do whatever he could to get her out West for the life she deserved. And although the legitimate money dried up after a devastating layoff months prior, he planned to keep his promise. 

With her legs straddling his waist, her fingernails raking down his chest, and both of his hands now free to press her half-naked body closer to his bare torso. Spotty AC had long left the room sticky in the late evening Texas heat, but they didn’t mind. Sweaty skin to sweaty skin made the love-making even sweeter. 

The spoils of their conquests clung to their skin as they rolled across the bed in the throws of passion. The sunset cast their shadows against the stained white walls like priceless artwork in an ancient museum. 

“I love you and I’d kill for you,” Yahya whispered against Adelle’s shoulder before leaving a kiss where the words fell. Her back arched away from the sheets from the tingling sensation.

He pulled away for a look at her beautiful face just as golden hour light hit it through the window. Her eyes, now cloudy with lust became fixated on his while she waited for doting words or his next command. 

“How many people,” she asked, her smile turning into a mischievous smirk. 

“Not like a lot of people. Maybe like six or seven, but that’s definitely more than I would kill for myself!”

Their shared laughter filled the room for several seconds until they could settle back into the tender moment.

“I wanna be your wife. For real. Not just ‘cause we said it’s so.” 

“You will. We’ll be in Vegas in two days and I wanna make it official. A chapel, a witness, the whole nine. Just for you.” 

“You promise?” 

Lacing his fingers in hers, Yahya brought Adelle’s hand up for a kiss. “I ain’t lied to you yet, Addy. We just gotta make it to midnight. Make it to midnight with me, yeah?” 

A kiss became her response, launching them into a time warp of carnal displays of affection. They matched each other touch for touch while ignoring exhaustion and the world around them. 

In the distance, sirens blared. One, then two, then a hoard drawing closer and cutting through the sounds of cricket choruses and highway noise until they dwarfed the TV in the room. Adelle was the first to notice. 

“Stop. Listen,” she spoke, her body tensing with fear. 

Feeling her grow still, Yahya slowly took in the gravity of their situation. They locked eyes for a wordless conversation. 

One look at the nightstand sent them into a mad dash to collect items in their immediate vicinity. Stained money mingled with dirty and clean clothes alike as they stuffed bags to their brim in preparation for an escape. They hastily tugged t-shirts over their head and pants on their legs as the law drew closer and closer. 

Once bags were secured and pistols prepared, Yahya crept toward the window and took a cautious look through the curtains. His silence alerted Adelle. 

“Say something! What’s happening?” 

He steadied himself and looked back his lover. “You gotta use that gun one more time, baby. Eight lawmen and 18 bullets. Think you can do it?” 

Her gaze went cold as she fought the urge to vomit. She closed for a deep breath before slowly walking forward to meet him across the room. 

Yahya looked down at her once she reached his spot next to the door. His eyes were glazed with tears that Adelle reached up to wipe away as she smiled. 

“What were those vows again?” She asked, grief thick in her voice. Yahya nodded then dropped his head to press a kiss to her lips. 

“Til death do us part.” 

She smiled, kissed his cheek once more, then cocked the pistol in her hand. 

“Til death do us part, then.”

Hey friend! You still doing request? If so...

Lemme get uhhh...#17 with Yahya.

17) “I’d kill for you, not like a lot of people. Maybe like six or seven, but that’s definitely more than I would kill for myself!”

I got you! I think I might have a fun angle for this.

[theowritesstuff]

Hiii this is for the prompt ist thing how about 21 + 22 ???

Hi anon! Thank you for the request! I hope you like it, it’s slightly angsty.

“Tell me I’m wrong, tell me that I’m being stupid and that you’re totally in love with me and not them.”

“When will you realise that I’m in love with you?”

Replaced

Adrian Chase x gn!reader

Adrian was your best friend. Well, you knew you weren’t his, he would claim Chris was, but you knew he was yours. You both spent what some would consider way too much time together. You’d have movie nights together, eat meals together, you even went appliance shopping with him.

You found out, much to his dismay, that he was Vigilante. It was an accident really. You had driven to his house, and saw him sitting in the front seat of his car taking the suit off. You gotten out of your car, and knocked on his window, a sheepish smile on your face.

He pulled you inside his house to have a long conversation with you about how “it’s dangerous knowing what you know” and about how “people might use you to get to him” and all that jazz. You assured him that his secret would be safe with you.

Things pretty much went back to normal after that. He’d spend some time with you, then he’d go out Vigilante-ing at night.

That is, until you saw the news one night. There was a report that Vigilante had killed someone for theft, but there was someone else there too. It looked like another costumed crime-fighter. They’re suit was a deep burgundy color, with black detailing.

As soon as you saw the report you called Adrian. He told you about the new hero, called Blackout. Apparently she had helped him take down the robber. He said she was cool. You knew immediately that this was going to be someone that Adrian admired, like he did Peacemaker.

What you hadn’t accounted for was losing Adrian to her. You saw him less and less. He claimed he needed to keep going out as Vigilante to keep Evergreen safe. He’d started missing out on planned movie nights. You started to think he was blowing you off.

You did start to notice a pattern. Adrian would claim he couldn’t hang out with you, then the next day you’d see a new report about Vigilante and Blackout, and their latest escapade.

So Adrian was blowing you off to hang out with Blackout. You were jealous, of course you were. She didn’t have the right to steal Adrian from right under your nose. You supposed you understood why Adrian was so fond of her though. She understood his other life. She went out to kill criminals just like he did. You didn’t compare in that sense. You were just somebody that went to your nine-to-five job, then came home, made dinner, and slept.

Then, of course, came the night that blew everything up in your face. You and Adrian had talked about seeing a specific movie at midnight, the first night it came out. It was more Adrian’s cup of tea, but you told him you’d accompany him. You stood outside the theatre for forty minutes, waiting for him. People rushed past you, into the theatre, excited to see the new movie. The air was cold, leaving a chill on your skin.

Maybe he was just running late. You waited twenty minutes past midnight, eyes still scanning the street for him.

You left around 12:30, giving up on waiting for him. At this point you just wanted to go back home.

Your phone lit up, showing you that you had an incoming call. Adrian.

“Hello?” You answered.

“Hey Y/n! You’ll never guess what happened tonight! So Blackout and I were patrolling, right? And we saw some guys spray painting graffiti on the wall in an alleyway, and Blackout totally kicked their asses! It was awesome!”

That’s when it clicked in your head. You’d been replaced. Adrian didn’t need you anymore. He’d found someone better to spend his time with.

“That’s cool Adrian. Hey, I gotta go, I’m really tired from work.” You told him.

“Oh, okay.” He almost sounded deflated. “Hey, do you wanna get some lunch tomorrow? You can pick where we go.” He offered.

“I’m sorry, I’ve got a ton of chores I need to get done, maybe some other time.” That was a lie.

“Oh. Okay, uh- I’ll see you later then…” He said.

“Yeah, bye.” You hung up before he could say anything else.

Adrian kept trying to get in contact with you as the days went on. You’d decided it was probably just better to rip the bandaid that was not being around him anymore off, than to have to endure it slowly.

Everything seemed to be going pretty smoothly, until Adrian showed up at your house one evening. He made sure that it was a night you were guaranteed to be home.

When you answered the door, he quickly moved past you, into your living room.

“What the fuck Adrian?” You asked him.

“I should be asking you that! What’s up Y/n? Because I haven’t seen you in days! It’s like you’ve disappeared!” He shouted, waving his hands around. You could tell he was mad.

“I was just giving you some space, I figured that’s what you wanted.”

“What? Why would I want some space?” He asked.

“Well seeing as you stood me up at the movies, I thought you needed time to spend with your new girlfriend.” You crossed your arms over your chest.

“My- oh fuck…” The realization was clear on his face.

“Yeah, I was outside the theatre waiting for you for an hour. I looked like a total idiot.” You grumbled.

“I’m sorry- It’s just Blackout heard that there was a theft so I went to check it out with her-”

“Of course you did Adrian. Because you seem to spend all your time with her now.” You sighed, and turned away from him. Your eyes scanned your immediate area, searching for something to do so you wouldn’t have to keep looking at Adrian.

“That’s not fair! I’m allowed to have more than one friend! You’re not the only one I’m allowed to hang out with!” He fought back.

“God Adrian, when will you realize that I’m in love with you?” The words fell from your mouth. You widened your eyes, and slapped a hand over your mouth, fully processing what you said. “I-I’m sorry-I shouldn’t have said that-” As hard as you tried, there was no taking back what you had said.

Adrian stood there, his eyes focused on the floor by your feet. He looked to be deep in thought, his eyebrows were furrowed, and a small frown rested on his face.

In any other circumstance you would use your thumb to smooth the crease between his brows. But now you just stood there, waiting to hear from Adrian.

“Please, just, say something. Anything.” You begged him softly. You felt like you were drowning in the silence.

“I think I need to go.” He said. His eyes still refused to meet yours. He brushed past you, and left.

As soon as you heard the front door close, you felt a tear slip down your face. You and Adrian were perfectly fine just being friends, but your feelings had to come out and ruin everything.

Part of you debated leaving Evergreen and never coming back. Living a life in Gotham might be nice. However, the rational part of your mind knew that there was no way that was happening.

No matter how mortified you were with yourself, you had to move on. Maybe you could forget about Adrian. Forget about Vigilante.

You almost laughed at that thought. Of course you couldn’t forget about Adrian. He was too big a part of your life to just quietly slip away.

You needed to continue on with your life, even if thoughts of Adrian clouded your mind. So, for the next couple of days you continued on. You’d wake up, after whatever small amount of sleep you were able to get, go to work, come home, then repeat the process.

You avoided Fennel Fields at all costs, not wanting to run into Adrian.

You’d still occasionally check your phone for anything from him. No phone calls, no text messages. Your thumb would hover over his contact. You contemplated calling him. Apologizing to him, for making things weird between the two of you, and begging for him to be your friend again. You’d always end up not calling him though, and tossing your phone away from you.

Your first day off since what you decided to label- the incident- had you bored out of your mind. This was your one day off where Adrian also had the day off. You would hang out together for most of the day, before he went out at night.

You decided to distract yourself with some chores you’d been meaning to get done recently. You started off with cleaning out your closet.

There were random boxes stacked on the shelves with who knows what, and clothing that hadn’t seen the light of day in months. You started pulling boxes down, and going through them. Most of them had things you knew you didn’t need anymore. There was old paperwork from various doctor’s visits, old receipts, you even found a punch-card from a coffee shop. Two more punches and you could get a free coffee, if they still took the cards.

Out of the corner of your eye, you could see something else sitting on one of the shelves. You reached out for it, and brought it down. It was a crumpled up, navy blue sweater. It belonged to Adrian.

You remembered when he gave it to you vividly. He had convinced you to accompany him to a fair that was in town for a weekend. You went with him, not without complaining that the rides could fall apart at any moment, and actually had fun. By the end of the night, there was a chill in the air. You hadn’t brought a jacket, so Adrian offered you his. It must’ve been living in your closet ever since.

You were pulled away from your thoughts by a knock on your door. You walked over to it, and opened it to see Adrian. Like before, he sped past you, into your house. You closed the door behind him, took a deep breath, then turned to face him.

He was still wearing that confused look on his face from a few days ago.

“Careful Adrian, your face might get stuck like that.” You attempted to joke, but he wasn’t listening.

“You’re in love with me?” He asked you.

You sighed. Of course he wasn’t going to beat around the bush. He’d never been one to not say what was on his mind.

“Yeah, I am.” You shrugged. “And it hurts seeing you, and knowing that you don’t feel the same. That you’ve replaced me with Blackout because she knows you, and understands your life. Please Adrian, I need an answer.” The tears that had gathered in your eyes had begun to fall. “Tell me I’m wrong, tell me that I’m being stupid, and that you’re totally in love with me and not her. Or tell me you don’t feel the same so I can move on.” You begged him for an answer.

Adrian stood there for a second, his eyes flicking back and forth between yours. He was searching for anything other than sincerity. He wanted to make sure that this was really how you felt about him.

“You’re wrong.” He said, his voice quiet. He strode up to you, and wrapped his arms around you, pulling you to him. He quickly pressed his lips to yours, sealing his words in a sweet kiss.

[blooming-violets]

Something Unforgivable || TASM

Prompt suggested by @flower-slut00​​ : “The reader breaks up with Peter cuz he cheated and it’s super angsty“

Summary: Peter’s love language is touch. When he’s gone too long without it, he tries to seek out love in places he shouldn’t. (Peter’s POV x Reader)

Warnings: 18+, bathroom smut (bj, sx), cheating, depression, mention of deceased friend, mention of vomit 

A/N: This isn’t exactly the break up scenes you asked for but it’s whatever I was able to come up during my lunch break. 

Tag List (as usual if I’ve missed someone or you’d like to be added, send me a message!): @anakins-angel​ @rattdonovan​ @ssa-uglywhore27​

“She hasn’t been the same since it happened. All she does is sleep. She doesn’t do anything anymore. I don’t know how I’m supposed to help her if she won’t even talk to me.”

Peter sat on the kitchen counter while his Aunt May worked around him to prepare dinner. It was their Sunday night tradition ever since he had moved out. She insisted she get to see him at least once a week. There was no ifs, ands, or buts about it. Sunday night was for her no matter what. Peter always upheld their bargain. In the past year, he only ever missed dinner once.

“She’s grieving, Peter. Surely you would know a thing or two about that,” Aunt May glanced over her shoulder at him while she dumped a box of pasta into a boiling pot of water.

A pang of guilt shot through his heart. When Gwen died he had locked himself in his room for weeks. Nothing anyone said would console him. He knew she was grieving but it made him feel useless. He was doing his best. Every other night, he would make her a bath, carry her to the bathroom and place her carefully in it. He’d spend time washing her hair, talking to her about his day, and making sure she was clean. Then he’d get her dressed in some fresh pajamas and make her food. She hardly ever ate. Sometimes he’d have to physically feed her himself. Even then, she’d only get through a few bites before closing her eyes and turning away. When she was finished, she would walk like a zombie back into their bed and curl up. She’d stay there until he did it all again tomorrow. It was starting to take a toll on him. The longer her depression latest, the more helpless he felt.

“I don’t know how to help her,” he lamented.

Aunt May sighed. She put down her stirring spoon, wiped her hands on her apron, and went over to her nephew. He closed his eyes when she cupped his cheeks in her hands. “These things take time. It’s only been three months. Her best friend died, Peter. They were always attached at the hip. Something that life changing can’t be healed in just a handful of months. She’ll be okay.”

Peter smiled sadly back at her. This is why he never missed his Sunday’s with her. Not because of the food but because of the talks. “I hope you’re right.”

“I’m always right. Keep doing what you’re doing and she’ll slowly start to pull herself out of it. I believe in you,” she pressed a kiss to his forehead then grabbed her spoon again, giving him a swift slap on the arm with it. “Now make yourself useful and start preparing the salad. Make extra. I want to send the leftovers home with you.”

It was cold and dark by the time Peter started his walk home. He dragged his feet and took his time. He hated to admit that he didn’t want to be home tonight. The thought having to care for his girlfriend weighed heavy on his mind. When did he become so selfish? Why was this so difficult for him? He loved her. He never doubted that. But the longer this went on, the more he wanted to run away. What hurt the most was that, if the roles were reversed, she would have never left his side. She would have done everything to make him better. So why couldn’t he do the same?

He had been using Spider-Man as an excuse to get out every night. Sometimes he would spend the entire night out just to avoid having to see her. There was something about her sadness that hit a switch in him. He couldn’t be around it any longer than he had to. Her grief reminded him of his own. And he didn’t want to be reminded. He wanted to forget. He wanted to go back to the way things were before; when loving her was easy. 

Peter stood in front of his apartment building and stared up to the the tenth floor. He could pinpoint their bedroom window exactly. It was probably used as an exit more often than the door. She was up there. Waiting for him. 

His hand hovered over the door handle. He couldn’t bring himself to open it. Part of him longed to crawl into bed beside her and hold her close. The other part longed to run far away. He just couldn’t do it. 

Peter pulled out his phone and sent her a text. He doubted she would reply. He had a months worth of one way messages lined up under her name. Like talking to a wall. 

“Out doing 🕷 stuff tonight. Might be home late.” 

Three dots popped up on screen. Peter stopped to stare at them in shock. 

“Oh. Ok. Be safe.”

His heart rate sped up. She answered. It had been so long since she answered. He should go up to her. He should take care of her. His phone buzzed again. 

“I love you.”

He was an asshole. It was official. Peter Parker was an asshole. The last time he heard those words from her were over three months ago. He had craved them for so long and here they were. In writing. 

Even so, Peter had already made up his mind to stay out. The fresh air relaxed his lungs. He sent one last glance up to the bedroom window and turned around to leave, putting the apartment and his girlfriend behind him. 

The night was still young and Peter felt alive. He had lied about doing Spider-Man duties. His suit was left at home and tucked away in the closet. Hopefully she didn’t notice. He just wanted one night to himself. One night where he could be totally in control. Not as Spider-Man but as Peter. 

As he walked aimlessly through the streets, he turned his eyes to the night sky. There wasn’t much to see up there. New York City didn’t have any stars. There was nothing but a dark, deep blue with light grey clouds to cover the backdrop. The lack of stars never bothered him. The night sky was still comforting to Peter. It gave him the feeling of home. 

The faint sound of distant music reached his ears. He decided to follow the noise. It lead him down a few blocks until he was standing across the street from a night club. Neon Nights, it was called. 

She used to love to go dancing. Every weekend she would drag him kicking and screaming to another club. He would always pretend to complain the whole way there. She would tug him along behind her, trying to convince him he was going to love it. The music would always be too loud and there would be too many people but, the moment she dragged him onto the dance floor, he would forget about all of that. She made him feel like they were the only two people around. Everything would fade into the background and it was just her. She used to be so happy. So free. 

Peter stared at the club now. He wished she was there with him. He imagined her tugging at his hand and pulling him to the entrance. 

“I need you to be my bodyguard and keep all the creeps off me,” she would say to him. Her eyes would sparkle with excitement. Her hips would start to sway the second they passed through the doors. He would give her a little twirl and pull her close. 

He missed her touch. Sometimes, while she was sleeping, he would take her hand and place it on his cheek. All he craved was the feeling of her skin against his. He wanted her to kiss him again. To hold him. To touch him. Run her fingers through his hair. Anything. 

His legs lead him to the entrance before his brain had even caught up. He showed the bouncer his ID and entered. 

Just one drink. 

He would have one drink and then go back home to her. That was it. 

The club was loud. Neon, flashing lights blinded his eyes. He could feel the pounding of the bass vibrating inside his chest. People danced together in a giant mob in the middle of the room. His senses shot into overdrive. There were so many things to look at that they all melted into a single blob of color blurring in front of his eyes. He had to squeeze them shut to try and focus himself. 

Somehow he managed to weave his way over to the bar and order a drink. He squeezed himself onto a stool in the corner and tried to make himself invisible. This was a terrible mistake. He should be home with her or, at the very least, patrolling the neighborhood. Sitting here and drinking was a waste of time. He should be making himself useful somewhere else. 

Yet, something about the disorganized chaos of the club relaxed his anxious mind. Once he became accustomed to all the crazy stimulation, he could dull them back from being too overpowering. Now he was able to fade into the background. He couldn’t overthink if it was too loud for any thinking to take place.

One drink became two.

Two became three. 

Three became four. 

Four to five, six, then seven. 

Despite how skinny and lean he was, it took a good bit of alcohol for Peter to ever feel the effects. His body had an annoying habit of healing itself very quickly. He could only ever get a nice buzz, never anything more. Tonight he was starting to finally reach that head rush he was desperately seeking. 

From the edge of the dance floor, a beautiful woman caught his eye. She had on a short red dress that hugged tightly around her full body. Her long hair waved down her back and flowed around her as she danced. The look on her face reminded him of his girlfriend. There was a carefree, blissful smile on her lips as she swayed to the music. Before he even fully realized what he was doing, Peter was out of his seat and making a direct line to the beauty. 

She gave him a flirty smile when she saw him and pulled him into a dance. His hands found her hips as he did his best to keep up. Peter was no dancer but he could feel the rhythm and lose himself in it. All it took was a little liquid courage to open him up. 

The woman smelled intoxicating. Whenever her hair would flick under his nose, he’d get a whiff of her beautiful aroma. He wanted to hold her closer to him. As if she was reading his mind, she turned her body and pressed her back into his chest. He could tell she was purposely rubbing her ass against him. It was a move his girlfriend used to do as a way to tease him on the dance floor. There was a certain thrill that accompanied the motion. She loved knowing that, in middle of a room full of strangers, she could make him hard. A secret pressed between them. 

Peter closed his eyes and took a shuttered breath. Shit. The grinding of the woman, mixed with the thought of his girlfriend there instead, was enough to feel himself growing harder. It had been so long. At this point, any light bump would have probably set him off. He should stop. He should go home. Instead, his arms snaked around the woman’s torso and kept her pressed against him while they swayed back and forth. In his mind, this was no longer a stranger, this was her. 

He liked the way it felt. He didn’t have to tell her that, it was blatantly obvious. Clearly, she was enjoying herself too. Otherwise, she probably would have called him a creep and fucked off. Her staying gave Peter a confidence he usually lacked. He wanted more. He wanted to feel something. 

The tips of his fingers grazed up and down her bare arms. In a moment of brash boldness, he leaned down and kissed her neck. She shuttered under him. With his eyes closed, he could almost completely imagine his girlfriend there instead. And he kept them closed while she turned around his arms, wrapping herself around his neck, pressing against him, and drawing her lips to his. Their tongues danced around each others. His movements were needy. Craving. Thirsting for anything he could get. 

She was breathing heavily when she finally pulled back, “Bathroom.”

Peter nodded. Yes. Bathroom. He would follow her anywhere at this point. She took his hand and guided him through the crowds of people. The break from her lips should have been enough of a reminder for Peter about what he was doing. He should have been in control. There was so much to lose, so much at stake, by what he was about to do. 

None of it crossed his mind as he was lead across the dance floor. That would be his burden to bear; that he didn’t have a second thought about going into the bathroom of a nightclub with a stranger. 

“Do you have a condom?” She asked as she pushed him into an empty stall. 

The door rattled shut behind them causing the pounding music to become muffled. The dull, flickering lights on the bathroom ceiling broke him out of the bright, neon haze he was in out there. Peter’s heart was beating too fast. It was getting hard to think. He wanted so badly to be touched. He needed attention. 

Not from her. Who was this woman? 

Maybe those drinks were stronger than he thought. He shook his head in an attempt to clear his mind. What was he doing? 

He could feel a bit of panic rise up and grip at his chest. 

She must have taken his head shake as a “no” because she pulled a condom packet out from her cleavage, “That’s alright. I always keep one close to me.” 

He had to get back home. 

This wasn’t right. 

This wasn’t his girlfriend. 

She needed him. He needed to get back. 

“Wait-” His words caught in his throat as his head slumped back against the stall wall. 

The woman had dropped to her knees and tugged down his pants. She was taking him into her mouth before he even had time to finish his thought.  

It felt so good. 

The pleasure that rushed through his veins was staggering. His legs quivered under him. It had been too long. He needed a release. His body took over, telling his anxious mind to sleep. Peter tangled his hand in her beautiful hair, pressing against the back of her head, begging her to take him deeper. She complied. 

A low moan rumbled out of his throat and his entire body sank into the wall. 

“Someone’s excited,” she chucked to herself and ripped open the condom, sliding it onto him. “Careful there, big boy. Don’t blow your load too early. I need something too.” 

The woman lifted herself back to her feet. She hiked her short dress over her alluring, curvy hips. Peter could see she wasn’t wearing any underwear. He got the vibe she was the type of person who did this sort of thing often. He was glad he was wrapped up. Another shot of guilt tugged at his heart. If he ever brought home any sort of disease to his girlfriend...

This was wrong. 

He still had time to stop. 

She placed a leg up on the toilet seat and backed her ass against him. He knew how wrong it was but he just couldn’t do it. He couldn’t walk away. 

An animal instinct took over. He needed to be touched. He needed to feel the closeness to another woman. He needed this.

Peter grabbed at her hips and buried himself inside of her. He kept his eyes closed. It was easier that way. 

She hummed in content while he worked behind her. His body was on autopilot. There was no love here. No need for anything extra. He just needed a release and this woman was going to give it to him. 

It didn’t take long.

Peter was usually good at being able to outlast his girlfriend but this was different. This was only a means to an end. 

With a flood of endorphins, he forced himself to pull out of her, just as his body shook with release. He held his tongue to keep from making any noise, his eyes still squeezed shut, while he finished. A quiet whimper eventually sputtered out of his lips. Tears immediately burned behind his closed eyelids. If he opened them, they would certainly spill out. This was so wrong. He was such a bad person.

He couldn’t look at her. 

With the animal part of his brain now quieted down from his orgasm, the shame washed over him

What had he done?

“Is that it?” He could feel she had turned around and was staring at him. She was angry. “Seriously? That quick? You’re not even going to finish me off?”

Peter shook his head “no” and kept his head down. He didn’t want to be forced to look his shame in the eyes. He wanted her to go away now. 

He slid off the condom and tossed it in the trash beside the toilet. He tugged his pants back up and turned away from the woman. 

“What a waste of a condom,” she muttered before strutting out of the stall and slamming the door behind her. 

The second she was gone, Peter sank onto the toilet and started weeping. Why? Why was he like this? He buried his head in his hands and cried. The image of his girlfriend burned behind his retinas. This would kill her. He was so selfish. So terrible. She deserved so much better than him. 

The sudden urge to vomit hit his stomach. He turned and tossed up his drinks from earlier. His entire body shook after each heaving motion until he was completely empty. The guilt ate away at him until there was nothing left but the feeling of worthlessness. 

Eventually, Peter was able to stagger himself to his feet. He shuffled out of the bathroom stall and over to the sinks. The cold water splashed on his face as he looked up at himself in the grungy mirror. He didn’t recognize the man staring back him. This wasn’t him. Spider-Man doesn’t cheat on his girlfriend suffering with depression after her best friend died. Spider-Man was supposed to be the epitome of goodness in the world. Peter Parker didn’t deserve to have that title.

He cast his eyes to the floor and pushed his way out of the bathroom. 

The sudden lights and music cut through him. People still danced. They didn’t care that his life was over. It was just another Sunday night to them. He felt dizzy. His entire world was spinning too fast. He had to get out of here. This place held nothing for him but regret.

Peter burst out the door and stumbled into the street. 

The cool night air settled on his skin. It cleared the fog from his brain. He could think clearly now. He knew exactly what he had done. There was no one to blame but himself. 

There was no way he could return home after this but his feet seemed to carry him straight back to her anyway. His guilty conscious craved her presence. He wanted her to hold him and tell him it would all be okay. He wanted to erase this night from his memory.

By the time he reached their apartment, Peter was a shell of a man. He unlocked the door and let himself in. All the lights were out. The clock on the kitchen stove read 4:36am. She would be asleep. That was his only comfort now; the thought that he wouldn’t have to look her in the eyes after the sin he committed. 

He kicked off his shoes and brought himself to the shower. He had to wash the night off of him. The strangers perfume still lingered on his skin. He scrubbed it off. His skin red and raw until there was nothing left but his own self hatred. 

The sun was starting to rise by the time Peter finally crawled into bed beside her. She looked so perfect. In her sleep, she couldn’t feel her sadness. She could escape into her dreams. He wished she could stay sleeping forever. When she woke up, her life would be ruined. He would have to break her heart. This wasn’t a secret he would keep. She deserved the truth.

She must have sensed him climb into the bed because the moment he laid down, she rolled over, and snuggled her face against his chest. His arm draped over her and twirled the ends of her hair between his fingers. He could feel the tears burning at his eyes again. How could he have ruined something so perfect? The thought that this might be the last time he would ever get to hold her like this again caused a quiet sob to rack through his body. He didn’t want to hurt her. He didn’t want to let her go. 

“Mm,” she stirred. Her hand slipped under his shirt. Her fingers were cold against his skin as she traced little circles on his back. “I love you, Peter.”

Peter did everything he could to keep his sobbing under control. His heart was torn in two. He had been waiting for the moment she would touch him again and say the words he was dying to hear. He had waited so long. Here they were, when he least deserved to hear them. If he had only come home when he was supposed to...

She peeked her head up at him as her eyes fluttered open, “Are you crying?” 

It was like the last three months had only been a bad dream. She sat up in bed with a worried expression when she realized how hard he was weeping. It was the first emotion he had seen on her face in long time. 

She brushed his hair away from his face, “Peter? What happened? Are you hurt?” 

He watched her eyes scan over his body for any obvious injuries. When she found none, she turned them back to his face. He couldn’t speak. 

“Peter? You’re scaring me,” her voice quivered. Tears of her own shone in her eyes. She always cried when he did. She always mourned with him. Why hadn’t he just of been able to do the same? Why had he been so selfish? 

If he was a good person, he would have stopped her when she wrapped him up into a hug and cradled his head in her lap. If he was good, he wouldn’t have let her run her fingers through his hair to comfort him. If he was good, he would have never attempted to replace her with a stranger. 

But he wasn’t good. 

“It’s okay,” she whispered softly to him. 

It was not okay. 

“I wished you had come home earlier, Pete. I know I haven’t been the best girlfriend lately and I’m sorry. I know you’ve been avoiding me. You’re suit is in the closet. I can see it from my spot on the bed. You could have just told me if you needed some time alone,” she sighed. “Or maybe you couldn’t. I guess I wasn’t very easy to talk to. I’m sorry.” 

She was apologizing to him. None of this was helping the crushing guilt. 

“This morning was the first time I woke up and felt like getting ready. I got dressed and cleaned the house. I even went out to the store and bought us ice cream. I knew you had dinner tonight with May but I was hoping when you got home, we could have watched a movie and ate ice cream like we used to...but you weren’t here all day and you never came home. Is May okay?” 

His crying had subsided into a pitiful sniffle with the occasional shutter of his body. He shook his head ‘yes’. No words were still able to leave his mouth. The second they did, the second this would all be over. He wanted to hold onto this moment for as long as he could. 

“Tell me what happened to you, Peter. Please,” she was practically begging him now. 

Peter took a deep, wheezy breath and sat up. He took a moment to study her beautiful face. That woman in the club could never compete with the sight before him. He had to have one last kiss. He had to remember the feeling of her lips on his for the final time. She would leave him when he told her. He knew that. She was no fool. He would have self sabotaged another perfect thing in his life. He was destined to be miserable. 

Peter cupped his hands to her face and kissed her gently. Tears rolled down his cheeks and pooled against their lips. He could taste the saltiness. This would be their final kiss. He didn’t want to say goodbye.

The moment he pulled away, he would tell her.

“I love you. I love you more than anything else in the world but, tonight, I did something terrible. Something unforgivable...”

[Part 1.5] [Part Two]

[Chapter Index]

[jiminiesfavouritecolourisblue]

Our little love part 2 - mafia/yandere au Drabble {angst + fluff}

As always please let me know what you think, I am actually going to go to bed now my brain is angry with me for not sleeping.

It seemed the cycle was never ending, you fucking up and pissing them off, them punishing you by drowning you in their love, only letting you come up to breathe so you could swim in your own guilt and submit to them.

You wince as the victim to your latest fuck up gets another blow to his chest. Taehyung and Hobi held onto his arms as Jungkook and Jimin kick and punch the poor individual. You know not to speak, it’ll only make things worse. Temperament was a fickle thing in their lives, trust was everything, and you still had to build yours up again.

“Y/n help please,” Kai whimpers as you stood with your arms crossed looking away.

“Don’t fucking say her name,” Jungkook growled before punching your ex colleague in the face. You’re frowning, the need to beg them to stop was fighting for exit on the top of your tongue, but you bite it down and pray Kai doesn’t say another word. You know if you do as he asks they’d kill him. Your punishment was to watch silently.

Yoongi strolls up behind you, hands in his pockets before he rests his head on your shoulder, watching the display in front of you both.

“Nothing to say little love?” He whispers as your friend groans out in pain.

Please don’t kill him, you want to say, but you just shake your head in defeat. You want to believe they’re better than this, but the evidence of the contrary was never hidden from you. They showed you every side of them whether proud of it or not with bold eyes daring you to stop loving them, pushing your boundaries and morals waiting for you to snap. But the breaking point never came, you loved them, you shouldn’t and you knew it, but you did. You were completely and utterly theirs, yet still they treated you like you hadn’t seen the worst of them. Like you would run away the second you realised they were monsters, not that they would let you run far, only far enough to let you take a single breath before making you drown in them once again.

Yoongi wraps his arms around your waist, keeping an eye on your reactions. The asshole deserved it, not that they cared either way, he tried to take you away from them, that was enough.

Kai was your old partner before you took a very early retirement, what you didn’t know was that he continued the case you were working on before you left; the case of the seven men you now loved and the reason you quit said job. He had called you to meet up for old times sake and you, very naively in Yoongi’s mind, decided it was harmless. But if it was harmless why didn’t you say anything to the boys? You thought Kai didn’t know the reason you handed in your resignation, but he had been keeping an eye on you all before he realised you were the key to their downfall. He knew you harboured some feeling for him in the past and thought you’d reciprocate when he tried to flirt his way into getting his hands on the evidence you collected, he didnt know you burned it all. You lied to him and said you lost it, same difference anyway. This prompted plan b from him.

“Y/n they’re criminals,” he had said to you. “You’re a cop at heart you can’t love them.”

You floundered at his words when you realised he knew, and yet he still asked you to betray them.

“Kai I think I need to go...”

It was a mistake, you knew it then, but he followed you out onto the street and you hoped tonight the men you loved weren’t keeping an eye on you. Maybe naive was an understatement.

“Are they coercing you Y/n! Do they have something on you or are they threatening you?” He calls after you. “Because the Y/n I know would never love killers, what have they done to you?”

It was when he reached his hand out to grab your arm that your boyfriends decided to show themselves from the shadows. Which lead to the situation now, Kai beat up and bruised beyond recognition, and you forced to watch. He falls unconscious and they let him drop to the floor, you hate this side of them, it was cruel and cold but you’d never leave. They turn to face you now, their anger still present despite the last hour of releasing it onto your old partner. They don’t miss the way you’re shaking, the shallow breaths as you try and keep your tears to yourself. As much as you hate their violence, you hate their disappointment in you more.

——————————————————————————

You’re sitting in Joonie’s lap for what you call the debriefing of your punishment, this happened way too often in your opinion. You look down but he wasn’t having it today, tilting your head to look at him by your chin.

“Why did you get punished today little love?” He starts the same way as usual.

“I went out without telling you guys where I was going or who with,” you say while fiddling with your fingers out of nervous habit.

“And?” Hobi sits across from you in a chair, legs straddling the back and an elbow rested on top with his fist holding up his face. Hobi was hardest to pacify, he was ruthless and unforgiving and while that didn’t extend to you, you still had a hard time with his stubborn anger.

“I met up with Kai, and I let him touch me,” you’ve done this too many times before to not know how it worked. Kai’s ‘touch’ obviously meant nothing to you but for them it was the worst crime anyone could commit against their little love.

You remember the time you nearly tripped in the park and a guy steadied you politely, but you still had to hold Jungkook back from throwing hands.

“Kookie would you rather I fell and hurt myself?” No he hadn’t wanted that so he grumbled in agreement still seething but you cooled it down. “Instead of hitting him maybe you should thank him,” it was a joke but it made the youngest scoff.

“Baby girl why can’t you just be good?” Namjoon’s sigh brings you back to the present. “Why do you always have to test us like this?”

You didn’t mean to, you want to say it but the words are stuck below the sob in your throat. You actually whimper as his tone, bottom lip wobbling pathetically. He hadn’t even told you off properly, but you already felt like a mess as he bathed you in his disappointment. That was the common consequence of your actions and you hated it, you couldn’t do anything right.

——————————————————————————

“Jin do you need help with the food?” You ask your eldest boyfriend politely, he was frowning and you thought it was because today’s meal was too much for him to handle alone, his tone of voice made you realise it was because of you.

“No, I’m alright,” he doesn’t look at you as he speaks and you’re left gaping at him like a fish. Jin loved it when you cooked with him, it was your bonding time without the others, although Yoongi would join you from time to time. The others also tried but Jin wouldn’t let them anywhere near the kitchen, they hogged you enough anyway.

You feel your soul deflate, still standing there as he ignored you.

“Are you mad at me too?”

The way you said it made his heart twinge with guilt, but the others were right you wouldn’t learn and your first betrayal was still fresh on their minds. He sighs and you turn away, refusing to crying in front of them for the tenth time that day. What was wrong with you? Ever since that day where they found out who you really were you felt like you werent enough anymore, you tried so hard to make up for it all but you kept messing up. You weren’t like this before, but after seeing the hurt you put them through you were constantly on edge and second guessing yourself. You wish you could go back and stop them from ever finding out.

Jin hears the sniffle as you walk away and he can’t go through with it.

“Wait little love,” he calls for you. “I forgot to cut the onions, would you mind?”

You shake your head, you didn’t mind, but you didn’t trust your voice to answer for you. Youre grateful to Jin for giving you this task, it hides the fact you’re crying, but you know he doesn’t miss it.

——————————————————————————

Jimin and Taehyung were giving you narrowed stern gazes through dinner, it put you off your food which resulted in getting told off by Jin just after he branched out to you in the kitchen.

You felt alone, like the seven men you loved were against you and there was no one to blame but yourself.

“I’m sorry,” you say quietly before getting up and removing yourself from the dinner table and dining room, ignoring all of their stares. You decide maybe an early night is best, you could start again fresh tomorrow. You don’t get too far up the stairs before a hand pulls you back, you turn to see Jimin with Tae a few steps behind him.

You’re so used to seeing them laugh and play around that it feels like you’re looking at different people. Even during missions or gun fights, the youngest three were always joking their way through the bloodshed, keeping scores of who got the most headshots and other grotesque games. You remember the time Jimin and Tae called you during he middle of a shoot out, arguing with you and each other over who you loved more out of the two while you begged them to not get shot or killed.

“Why did you go see him Y/n?” Jimin asked, he wore the demeanour he used for enemies and it takes you back to that night.

“I... h-he said he wanted to see me to catch up,” you explain but you know it’ll fall on deaf ears.

“And you thought that was a good idea, to see your old cop buddy?” His tone makes you feel stupid, you weren’t stupid.

“He was my friend Jimin,” you say in disbelief, you know in the end it was a mistake but at the time it didn’t seem like the worst idea in the world.

“You’re ours,” Taehyung moved forward, towering over you even though he’s a step below you. His face is close to your own, eyes burning into yours as he looks disgusted at the words that left your mouth as if they’re still attached to you. “How do you think we felt when you went to see another detective? Do you have any idea what was going through our heads?”

“Tae I love you,” you lean away from him, searching his face for a hint of softness and love in his gaze, but there was only fire. “You know I wouldn’t, you all know I wouldn’t, I left that life for you why would I turn back to it?”

He stalks away from you without a word, Jimin close behind, giving you a final cold glance before leaving you alone. You thought your love could make them better but if anything you made their darkness worse.

——————————————————————————

Jungkook needed to vent, the only way he knew how was physically. Obviously it wasn’t the cleverest thing he’s done, taking rounds with the punching bag only to open up the cuts on his hand from beating the bastard earlier. He mutters a few curse words under his breath, why did you make matters worse? Maybe they were being harsh on you before today, finding any excuse to punish you a little, test your boundaries and see if you would run, but today they honestly feared that was what happened. They thought you chose to leave them and go back to the life you had before them, but they’d never let you go, they couldn’t let you go. Despite everything you loved them and they worshipped the ground you walked on. You were everything for them now, there’s be no point to any of them without you. Why didn’t you understand that?

He throws another punch to the bag, spreading his blood across them, it hurt like hell, but the thought of you running back to your old partner still played on all of their minds. He wanted to cry, he wanted to find you and beg you to never leave them, they’d be nothing without you.

There’s a knock on the door and he finds you on the other side, waiting for permission to come in. You never waited for permission, it makes him frown, maybe they were too harsh on you today. He could see you shuffling your weight, insecurity screaming through your eyes, you feared his rejection more than his anger.

He notices the first aid kit in your hand, you must’ve heard him. He doesn’t let the fluttering in his chest reach his face as he sits on the bench, waiting for you to come to him.

His gaze is expectant, daring you to cross the threshold and face him, you were no coward, you didn’t fear them the way others did, why were you behaving so meekly now? You force yourself to move and sit beside him, setting the kit down and pushing your hair back behind your ears. He doesn’t move his gaze away from you, even with the sweat and hair hanging in front of his face.

You carefully take a his hand into yours, sucking air between your teeth at how injured it was.

“I’m sorry you hurt yourself because of me,” you say, eyes on his bloodied knuckle as you press the ointment against the open wounds. “Are you sure you want me to stay, I keep hurting you...”

You try to sound like you’re joking, that you’re okay and the hurt isn’t weighing you down with your doubts. He frowns, they really did take it too far. He sets down the cotton wool from your grasp, taking both of hands into his before kissing each finger delicately without letting you look away.

“You’re perfect little love,” Jungkook says, reassuring you with no question in his voice. “We’re the ones who don’t deserve you, we’re mean and cruel but we’re never letting you go.”

You remember how loving they were before that night, maybe while they accepted the truth at face value they could never really forgive you in their hearts. Maybe that’s why they were being like this, they didn’t love you the same way anymore.

“Do you love me?” You had to know, the doubt was eating you alive.

He looks at you as if you’re insane, maybe you are, you don’t know anymore.

“Little love, don’t you see how much we love you?” He asks sincerely. “We would do anything for that love even if it made you hate us, you belong with us, and no one is going to take you away.”

You could see the crazed look in his face grow as he spoke, you believed him, the honestly worn like a heart on a sleeve. But his answer bought a wave clarity to your hazed vision, you made them like this, you made them worse, you had to leave.

[felis-the-complex-multiple]

Well. I spent a large potion of my day absolutely losing my shit but like. I made it through and completed all the things that had to get done. Not everything I wanted to get done, but it’s okay. My wife left this morning for a trip and is going to be gone until Sunday night so I’m already a bit messy just from her leaving and having to be alone for so long. And having to be an adult with no help! Very difficult.

But then when we left to drive her to the airport, I discovered I had a flat tire on my car. She also has a car so we just drove her car to the airport, but now I have to get my tire fixed. And this about undid me. Like. So many steps. SO MANY STEPS. A wonderful kind friend came by this evening to pump it up with their air compressor (it’s a slow leak not a full flat) so I can drive it to the tire shop tomorrow. They left the compressor with me in case I need to repump it before driving it tomorrow but I think it’ll be fine. But I had to make an appointment with the shop and now I gotta like. TAKE IT TO THE SHOP TOMORROW AND SIT THERE WHILE THEY FIX IT.

That was NOT my plan for tomorrow and feels VERY challenging so I’m very unhappy about it but I’m trying to be flexible and resilient or whatever. It is just a big snafu in my week that’s already feeling quite difficult because of not getting any help from my wife on anything this week. Like. It’s a lot of work to feed myself and my cats and do all the things you have to do be an adult all by yourself. And now I gotta handle this stupid tire.

I also had an interesting PT appointment today where I found out my right shoulder has been subluxing a LOT and was currently subluxed during the appointment. Bro I didn’t even KNOW. I knew it was popping like crazy and I asked him to help me with it today because I was having a lot of difficulty playing my violin on Saturday. Like I couldn’t do smooth string crossings because my shoulder kept catching or popping or getting stuck or something. It was very uncomfortable and difficult and I knew it wasn’t normal but I didn’t know it wasn’t THAT normal lol.

My PT couldn’t get it to stay put and he was very flummoxed about it honestly. Like he wasn’t surprised that I have shoulder issues but he couldn’t figure out exactly what was going on and why it kept popping. I have extremely limited range of motion before it snags and gets stuck and pops a bit before getting back on track eventually but it’s really annoying because it just kept happening over and over no matter what we tried. It’s like. I need to be able to fluidly move my shoulder so I can play my violin. That’s a requirement lol. So I have some strengthening exercises to do to try and help stabilize the joint but I just want smoother motion dangit! He doesn’t know if the exercises will fix it but he said it won’t hurt. It’s just frustrating. I knew having popcorn joints wasn’t normal but I’m just like ugh stop. Why can’t you just like. STAY IN YOUR SPOT AND MOVE CORRECTLY.

My last upsetting thing about the day (WHICH IS A VERY UPSETTING THING) is that I got a lot of mosquito bites while helping my friend pump up the tire. I’m allergic to mosquitoes so it’s a huge sensory nightmare hell whenever I get a single bite so I try to avoid it always at all costs. Couldn’t avoid it tonight and now I’m suffering and crabby about it. I just felt so overloaded and overstimulated today. Too much too much too much!

Tomorrow is likely to be VERY bumpy and overloading/overstimulating too but I’m really hoping things will settle externally by Thursday at the latest.

—Eris and Night Fury (yes the dragon don’t judge me okay!!)

[nctsworld]

the yuletide boyfriend

✩‌ yangyang ‌x‌ ‌reader‌ ‌|‌ fluff | angst | smut | friends to lovers | ‌college au | 9k

SUMMARY‌ ‌⇾‌ your one wish this year is to not be single during the holidays. yangyang, as your best friend, takes it upon himself to be your temporary boyfriend. soon enough, both parties begin to wish this new arrangement could last beyond the holidays. // part of the x-mas in ncity collection WARNINGS‌ ‌⇾‌ implied ‌anxiety attack (during the first part of dec 24th – skip if need to), smut, mutual m*sturbation, couch s*x, angst, miscommunication, swearing RATING‌ ‌⇾‌ mature TAGLIST ⇾ @infnteen​ 

AUTHOR’S NOTE ⇾ this is my longest fic to date and also... might be my worst b/c i feel like the angst plot points don’t really make sense... but i hope y’all still enjoy!!! 

⇾ gif created by me, please don’t share or repost without credit!

NOVEMBER 30th

“So, anything special on your wishlist this year?”

Your best friend, Yangyang, asks you as you two sit next to each other on one of the many plush lounge couches in the Psychology building. It’s the usual lunch spot where you meet with him during your break between lectures.

The Psych building held much sentimental value for both of you because you met in Psych 101 during first year. Fast-forward three years later, neither of you expected to be the close friends that you are today.  

Chewing your sandwich, you ponder on his question for a bit. Through the transparent glass walls leading to outside, you see the trickle of students heading towards the building since class is about to start for the noon round of lectures. A couple, you assume by the tight hand-holding and nose kissing, giggles as they enter the building, glued to one another by the hip.

“Not really.” You drop your head downward to your lunch container, smiling to yourself. “I’m honestly just happy to have Mark in my life, especially at this point in the year.”

Yangyang nods in accordance and smiles too, understanding the story behind your sentiment.

The boyfriends you’ve had since first year have always broken up with you before the holidays, right before the end of November. Since you only became close during second year, Yangyang’s been around for two out of three of your cursed holiday break-ups.

To have Mark, your latest boyfriend, be with you and it being already December tomorrow, it was truly a blessing for you and a silver lining that maybe this was the year to break the curse. Yangyang was grateful too, wanting you to have the utmost happiness.    

You take another bite of your sandwich and tilt your chin toward the ramen eater.

“You?”

Yangyang slurps a few more noodles before he answers.

“I mean, the new Playstation would be nice,” he hums, mouth full.

Pointing the tip of your sandwich, you joke, “I’ll get it for you, but only if we share custody over it.”

“Mm-mm,” he shakes his head during a mid-slurp. “You know I can’t promise that.”

Both of you laugh in unison, living in the calm before the oncoming storm.

DECEMBER 5th

The E-Sports club for the university is hosting a party tonight and because Yangyang’s on one of the professional teams, he asked a few weeks ago if you and Mark wanted to attend. Of course you accepted; Mark also had some friends in the club.

However, when you text Yangyang in the afternoon, stating a change of mind, he knows something’s off.

Half an hour before the party starts, Yangyang decides to visit you. Thankfully you both lived on campus, but even if you lived across town, he’d still bus out to see how you were doing. He does it all the time to visit his family, anyway.  

In the living room, the two sudden knocks at your door startle you. Peering through the peephole, you see the usual sight of your best friend, his lips curled upward and thumbs tucked in his pockets as he rocks on the balls of his feet.

It feels like an eternity for him when you unlock your door. The hinges squeal as you open it hesitatingly, your face barely appearing through the agape crack.

Immediately, his smile dissolves. Your face is drained and blood-shot eyes avoiding his own confront him.

Yangyang has only seen you cry twice in the three years he’s known you:

Once, when you were freaking the fuck out over potentially failing a course (but, on the upside, you ended up passing the final to save your grade).

The second time was at his house for a family dinner, when his mom accidentally added too much hot chili sauce to her homemade beef noodle soup (let’s just say you weren’t the only one crying that night).

Those were tears of dread and physical discomfort.

But this… this was crying he’s never seen from you before. His chest collapses inward, fearful of the reason behind your tears.  

His voice shakes as he asks, “What happened? Are you okay?”

Neither of you are major huggers and only exchange them on the rare occasion.

However, this situation screams the necessity of it, so Yangyang lunges towards you, the collision swinging the door out of the way. His arms embrace you like a large, warm blanket. Comforting and safe.  

Despite the affection, emptiness has taken over your body. Tonight, you’re a dead, empty shell of who you normally are.

You feel weak to the bone, but you muster up enough energy to scarcely raise your arms over his back to return the hug. Your eyes are dry from all the crying you’ve done all day, but apparently you have more tears left in you to spare.

Your eyelids snap shut and your jaw clenches.  

“Mark broke up with me.”

Your words are muffled into his shoulder, but Yangyang hears it crystal clear.  

You break down, sobbing out of control over the statement.

As aforementioned, Yangyang’s been around for your last two, now three, break-ups. Sure, he’s aware of how grumpy and distant you can get, but you never cried in front of him. You made an effort to never have him see you at your lowest point.

And yet, here you are, drowning him in your misery. Guilt washes over you for drenching his bomber jacket, but Yangyang couldn’t give two shits. His arms squeeze tighter while he rubs your back tenderly.

After several minutes pass and your waterworks abate, you peel away from him. You sniffle and rub your nose with the back of your hand.

“Sorry about cancelling last minute.”

“Hey, no need to apologize,” he whispers soothingly.

“I’m just… so fucking frustrated.”

With fatigued eyes, you drag yourself back inside your apartment. Yangyang discreetly closes the door behind him and hurriedly uses his feet to push off his shoes. As he does so, your mouth begins to run off while you slowly pace around aimlessly.  

“Fucking done with boyfriends, especially when they think it’s so fucking awesome to keep breaking up with me right before the holidays.”

He kicks off his last stubborn shoe and catches you raking your hands through your hair, pulling it back firmly. Your lips are trembling, along with your entire frame.  

“Like I get that I’m horrible and needy and emotional—”

His mouth opens, wanting to cut in to disagree with you with all his heart, but he clamps it back shut and swallows, allowing you to blow your steam off.

“—but can’t they wait until the fucking new year? I don’t know, or maybe just don’t date me in the first place! I don’t know, I don’t fucking know anymore. I’m just cursed, Yangyang...”

You flop down onto the couch and sink into the ocean of shiny pleather, shutting your eyes and trying to stop crying for the nth time. The deep sting behind your eyelids pain you, but it pains Yangyang more to watch the events unfolding ahead of him.  

Unsure of what to say, Yangyang walks around the room. His gaze falls on your laptop screen and he frowns at the mostly bare Word document that stares back at him:  

“WISHLIST:   -KEEP ONE (1) FUCKING BOYFRIEND DURING THE CHRISTMAS SEASON!!!!!!!! GOD FUCKING SDKMFLDS”

There are a few more lines below it with more profanities and keyboard smashing. He quickly darts away, a pang of guilt striking for invading your privacy.

Then, he turns to you on the couch again. You’re now covering your eyes with your forearm, pressing your lips together. His chest twists and his throat is arid as a desert.

You’re in shambles and he’s dying to pick up the shattered pieces of you, wants to glue you back together. On a regular basis, Yangyang’s a talking machine and can talk your ear off for hours, but right now, he doesn’t know what to say to you in your current state. He second-guesses himself, wonders if he’s even that great of a friend if he can’t comfort you in your worst times.

Blowing out a long sigh and removing your arm, you speak aloud, “You should get going to the party.”

Like awakening from a deep slumber, you rise up sluggishly and sit up on the couch, slouched over. The other figure in the room steps closer to you.  

“Sorry about your jacket, by the way,” you say. Your body is still, but your glazed eyes move to the dark spot on the middle of his shoulder. He glances at it and shrugs.  

“It’s better like this anyway,” he says with a gentle smile, and the tight knot in his heart softens at the flicker of your own smile, albeit a small one. Unfortunately, it fades in a few seconds. “I don’t want to leave you like this, though.”

You stare at the used, crumpled balls of tissues scattered on the living room table. Some also ended up on the floor. Break-ups are shit and 98% inevitable, but you know you’ll eventually get over it. You always do.

“I’ll be fine, don’t worry.”

He raises an eyebrow, as if asking, “Are you sure?” The lack of a worded reply causes you to notice the question written on his face.  

“Go,” you plead with a feeble laugh. “Have fun for me.”

Both of you head towards your front door again. Crossing your arms, you lean your head against the door frame and attempt a smile for your best friend.

“Thanks again for checking up on me.”

Yangyang nods with a half-smile, half-pout, “Of course.”

You give him a departing wave prior to sealing your door.

Usually, Yangyang would bus from your place to the student union building, where the party is being held. Instead, he zippers up his jacket and stuffs his fists into his pockets, opting to bear the early winter chill to walk his thoughts off. His blazing self-doubt burns at first, but he overcomes it by focusing on ideas to fix your accursed dating rut instead.  

Halfway through the walk, a light bulb moment occurs. A plan begins to brew on the surface of his mind and he thinks on it for the rest of the week.  

DECEMBER 11th

It’s been almost a week since you last saw Yangyang.

Finals started already, so classes were done for the semester and thus, your lunch meet-ups halted too. On top of that, since you were simultaneously moping and studying, you hadn’t really texted him much, nor had he, besides the occasional check-up text on how studying was going and random memes. Yangyang knew you preferred time alone to heal and he respected that.  

He also thought six days was enough time to get yourself back on your feet.  

Yangyang’s at your front door once again, but this time with two bowls of his mom’s beef noodle soup in tow.  

“Long time, no see,” you greet. Your tone is chipper, but your eyes look heavy, which could be partially from studying, Yangyang thinks. His smile deepens, content that you seem a lot better than the last time he visited.

“Delivery for two,” he raises the bag in his hand.

“And if I told you I already ate dinner?” you playfully retort.

The boyish man shrugs defeatedly, “Then I’ll tell my mom you hate her cooking—”

“You didn’t say it was your mom’s, Yangyang. Oh, my God,” you gasp, half-mockingly. You rush to grab the bags out of his hand and stroll towards your tiny kitchen. “Start off with that next time.”

As you remove the containers from the bag and onto the granite countertop, Yangyang shuts the door and takes his shoes off.  

“So, I’m gonna be upfront and say that I may have come here with a proposal.”

“Changed your mind about the shared custody of the Playstation?”

“I’m still considering that one.” Finally in his socks, he slings his backpack off his shoulder and plops it onto the couch along with his jacket. He stands next to you by the counter. “But it’s on the same page as that. Remember that day we were talking about wishlists?”

“Mm-hmm,” you hum as you rip off the lid of one of the bowls. Blatant wisps fly upward and you inhale the savoury aroma, followed by a heavenly sigh.  

“Last time I was here… I might’ve seen what you wrote on your laptop.”

Your expression immediately changes into full-on cringe. You bring a palm over to your face.

“Oh, God. Let’s not talk about that. That was just weepy, lonely me talking.”

Yangyang pops off the lid for his bowl and steps into your kitchen, rummaging through your drawers for chopsticks. “So you’re telling me you don’t want a boyfriend for Christmas?”

Your hand flies off your face. Eyes widening, you spew, “Do you have a boyfriend in your pocket, ready for me to have?”

In your open hand, he places a pair of chopsticks into it. “Well, actually, I was thinking—”

Sternly, you point the chopsticks at him. “Don’t you dare set me up with your friends.”

He counters and points his at you, “Even better than that.”

With your interest piqued, you slide yourself onto the counter stool and mix the noodles around, anticipating to hear Yangyang’s fantastic plan. Your friend sits on the other stool, facing you. He pauses for a second, taking a deep breath.  

“Why don’t I be your boyfriend for the holidays?”

You freeze, and the noodles’ drips above your bowl are deafening to both individuals. Laughing awkwardly, you break your frozen state to drop your chopsticks and turn your head to look at him.

Sputtering, you say, “What?”

Unnerved, his mouth pinches to one side, thinking maybe he shouldn’t have even said anything in the first place. This was stupid, so stupid, but it’s out in the open and Yangyang already dug his grave—he may as well lay in it.  

“Well, for one, it’s something on your wishlist that I can easily get,” he pauses mid-sentence, glancing upward in thought. “Well, really, fill? Is that a better way to put it?”

He continues, eyes back on you, “And two, I’m not setting you up with a stranger or someone you wouldn’t be comfortable with. I assume you know me well enough that you’re comfortable around me?”

Yangyang lifts an upturned palm and raises an eyebrow, waiting for a response to his assumption. Petulantly, you shake your head playfully and stick out your tongue at him.  

Rubbing the back of his neck, his gaze drops down to the floor for his last point. His voice lowers.

“And, I don’t know, we’d just hang out like we usually do during that time, except we’d do more couple-y things.”

Realizing the implication of his words, he widens his eyes. “I mean, we'll do whatever you’re comfortable with, obviously. We don’t have to do any of the physical stuff—”

You burst into a giggle at his rambling and hold a hand out, cutting him off. “Okay, Yang. I get it.”  

Yangyang watches your next moves carefully. You’re peering off to one side and picking at the tips of your fingers. After a minute that feels like forever, you nod slowly.

“I guess you have a point. We are sorta like a couple already.”

Your best friend sighs in relief, grinning that you’re not outright rejecting the idea.

“So,” you meet his eyes and bunch a shoulder up towards your ear. “We’ll just be a couple until what, New Year’s?”

“Yeah, sure,” he shrugs indifferently. “Whatever you want. It’s your Christmas wish.”

You chuckle and shake your head in disbelief that you two are actually making an agreement for Yangyang to be your temporary, holiday boyfriend.

Honestly, it’s a little crazy... but maybe it’s the perfect thing to get your mind off of Mark and the handful of holiday exes hanging above your head.

“Okay, since my last final is on the 21st, let’s start ‘dating’ then and we’ll play everything by ear, see how it goes.”

Yangyang bobs his head eagerly. “Sounds good, soon-to-be girlfriend.”

He sticks a hand out for you to shake. You take it firmly, sealing the deal and flashing him a grin.

“Soon-to-be boyfriend.”  

Although the night goes on like usual between the two of you, you couldn’t deny how ecstatic you are to finally have a boyfriend during the holidays, even if it was technically your best friend as a stand-in.

DECEMBER 21st

Tonight’s your first date with Yangyang.

That sounds weird to say, you admit to yourself, but it’s the truth.

After you stroll out of your last final of the semester, Yangyang’s waiting for you inside near the main exit of the building with several layers on, including his hoodie over his head and a knitted scarf underneath. His attention leaves his phone and he stuffs it into pocket as he notices you heading over.  

“Hey, girlfriend,” he welcomes you, beaming.

You snicker at the unfamiliar label. You wonder if you’re going to get used to this, even if it’s only for two weeks.  

“Hey, boyfriend,” you grin harder as the word falls from your lips, trying your best not to outright burst into laughter. “Where we heading off to?”

Although you said both of you could play the dating by ear, Yangyang’s been keen on scheduling plans for the upcoming days. You told him he didn’t have to, however, he insisted by saying that he wouldn’t only be a horrible boyfriend, but a horrible friend if he couldn’t make the next weeks fun for you.

Yangyang was anything but a horrible friend, and the fact that he was willing to be your holiday boyfriend to make you happy proved it further. Nevertheless, you gladly let him take the reins.

“I was thinking the movies tonight? See the latest Marvel film?”

Concurring to the idea, you scurry towards the bus stop and are movie-theatre bound to the nearest one off-campus. Arriving at the theatre, Yangyang and you buy your tickets and a popcorn to share, then head into the respective auditorium where the movie is playing. Since the movie’s been running for a couple of weeks, the auditorium is fairly empty, giving you two the chance to snag perfect middle seats with nobody else is in the row.  

Up to this point, aside from the name-dropping of boyfriend and girlfriend, this feels less like a date and more like any other hang-out with him. Nothing out of the ordinary, nothing awkward.

But that changes during a third of the movie.

You’re both so immersed by the screen that neither party notices the other’s hand when both of you reach for the popcorn in Yangyang’s lap at the same time.  

A jolt runs through as your hands brush together. The duo’s eyes tear away from the screen and flit to the action happening in real-time. The touch lingers for several moments.  

“Sorry,” you quickly mumble, drawing your hand back slightly, but still hovering over the popcorn.    

“Uhm,” Yangyang licks his lips and visibly gulps under the screen’s bright glare.

He whispers, his voice almost cracking, “As your boyfriend, can I hold your hand?”

Okay, this is just your best friend, acting as your temporary boyfriend, asking to hold your hand. No big deal, no big deal at all.

Yet, the thunderous knocking in your ears, louder than the explosions blasting through the theatre’s speakers, suggests otherwise.

You don’t even register it, but you’re already nodding in response. Your breathing slows to the rate of Yangyang’s hand inching over. At the anticipated contact, you gasp softly. His smooth fingers clasp over yours. Since the arm rest in the middle of you is positioned upward, there’s no obtrusion and you relax, letting your hands mingle in between the empty space.

Without looking at one another, both of you smile bashfully to yourselves as you try to continue to focus on the screen.

After a while, because you aren’t exactly holding hands, you spread your fingers, hastily doing so because you don’t want him to think you’re breaking the interaction, and twist your palm to properly interlock hands with him. You give Yangyang’s hand a warm, gentle squeeze. He does the same and even strokes his thumb against your skin.

Talk about playing everything by ear. Who knew you’d be hand in hand on the first date?

You attempt to not think much on it, but Yangyang’s hand in yours feels... so right, like your hand was made for this, for his to hold. Like you should’ve done this way sooner.

And if Yangyang’s thoughts could be heard, he’s thinking the same.

Despite the mutual fear of sweaty palms, neither of you desire to let go, so much that you not only hold hands during the rest of the movie, but throughout the bus ride back to campus and all the way until he escorts you to your front door.

With a certain charge in the atmosphere, you exchange sweet good-byes. That night, after the culmination of stress from finals and your worries of your holiday exes, you finally have a peaceful sleep, looking forward to your date with Yangyang tomorrow.

DECEMBER 22nd

“Babe, how do I look?”

“Very pretty, honey.” A bundled up Yangyang winks at you from behind his phone.

The second date is an evening at a Christmas light festival at a botanical garden on the outskirts of town. The lights illuminate so strongly; there was a glowing dome-like hue over the location that seemed to reach the dark sky as you got off the bus.

When stepping foot into the garden, all the encompassing lights mesmerize you. Lights on the various greenery, lights as decorative art pieces, lights lining the pathways. Different shades of colours and shapes engulf the massive area.

Yangyang’s currently in the middle of taking your photo near an arch tangled with dark blue, gold, and white bulbs. All night long, you’ve been mockingly using endearing terms, but, despite the frigid air, your cheeks heat up over something else he just said.

“You think I’m pretty?” you genuinely ask, breaking your pose.  

He lowers his phone a bit, his jaw dangling.

“Uh, I mean,” he giggles awkwardly, nodding softly. “Yeah.”

Yangyang never told you, but he initially sat near you in Psych 101 because he thought you were the most stunning girl in the class. And sure, he was a little disappointed at the time to find out you had a boyfriend, but that didn’t mean you two couldn’t still be friends. Other than the first few weeks he had a crush on you, he’s never thought of you as more than a friend.  

But those feelings are resurfacing, hitting him in the chest like a bag of bricks, due to moments like this one—you’re batting your eyelids, gaze straying elsewhere, and adorably chewing on your lower lip.  

“And you’re not just saying that as my holiday boyfriend?”

Pouting to one side, he shakes his head cutely. “Mm-mm.”

On the flipside, the beginning with Yangyang for you was strictly platonic. You were dating Haechan at the time you met him. When Haechan broke up with you later that fall, you kept a distance from dating for a while, heartbroken from the high school love gone sour. During that period, you never told him, but you did run through the possibility of dating Yangyang since you got along so well... until you met Jaemin earlier the next semester, who stole your heart. Ever since then, you’ve never seen Yangyang under that light again.

Despite that, you can’t deny how attractive he is, and now that you’re single and technically dating him, you embrace the fact with open arms.  

Beaming as bright as the lights, you tug him by the end of his puffer jacket’s sleeve to bring him closer to you.

“C’mon, handsome, let’s take some pictures together.” Prickles rise under Yangyang’s cheeks from the off-hand compliment.  

Holding your phone up in the air at about an arm’s length away, the side of your heads touch to prepare for a few selfies. When you finish capturing them, Yangyang’s hovering over your shoulder as you scroll through to glance through the photos.

“We look good together,” you comment. “Don’t you think?”

In sync, your heads turn to meet each other. Your eyes waver from the blatant clouds of your breaths and over to his lips. The clouds become rapid bursts as you begin to lean forward. So does Yangyang.

“Do you guys want a picture together?” someone suddenly asks. The abrupt voice drags you both apart instantly, crushing the moment into pieces.

“Sure,” you peep, fumbling to hand your phone over to the stranger.

Posing, Yangyang’s hand rests around the middle of your back, which is the norm when you take pictures with him, but he pulls you in snugly. You smile even wider, relishing in the new-level of intimacy and allow yourself to be truly content among his presence.

“You guys are such a cute couple,” the stranger gushes while they return your phone prior to walking away.

“I guess we are, huh, babe?” you jut your tongue out in jest at him. This time, you indulge in the endearing term without a sliver of mockery.  

Yangyang copies you, jutting his tongue out further than yours, and seizes your hand to continue the tour around the gleaming garden.

The almost-kiss isn’t mentioned for the rest of the night, nor is it acted upon, but both individuals dwell on the near occurrence before sleep that evening, staring longingly at their bedroom ceiling.

DECEMBER 23rd

For the third date, you find yourselves at the campus’ dedicated ice rink arena to partake in ice skating.

You’ve skated a few times in the past, but you’re by no means a pro. On the other hand, this is apparently Yangyang’s first time, and he’s already skating circles around you.

“Show off,” you grumble as he does another lap past you. Your gloved hands are splayed out in front of you, careful not to fall flat on your face.

Turning on his blades, he rebounds over to you.

“Sorry,” he pants. His raised cheeks glow an adorable shade of pink. “This is really fun when you get the hang of it.”

Yangyang intertwines his fingers with yours before you can say anything. “C’mon, take my hand.”  

At first, it was sweet to skate alongside your holiday boyfriend, notwithstanding the few times you almost trip. As the minutes pass, you think you’re getting the hang of it, but suddenly, Yangyang unleashes your hand and glides ahead of you, abandoning you to slide at a swift pace that is definitely out of your comfort zone.  

“Yangyang, what the fuck?!” you screech, completely disregarding the handful of surrounding parents with their kids, the former sending daggers your direction. Your ankles struggle to make a T-shape to stop, but the struggling only somehow makes you move faster.  

As he spins to face you, now skating backwards with ease, he says, “See, you got the hang of it-oomph—”

Air’s struck from his lungs when you crash into his body. Thankfully, Yangyang skids his blades harshly against the ice and is able to steady and support you within his arms.

“You little fucker,” you gripe, lightly punching him in the arm.

He chuckles blithely, “Sorry, but it was kinda funny, you gotta admit.”

You breathe a large huff, which makes you note how your hair is falling over your face after the catastrophe. You’re about to lift your hand to rearrange the strands, but Yangyang beats you to it and is in the midst of tucking them behind your ear.

The knocking in your ears reappears with a vengeance and the physical source of the knocking is thrashing violently against your chest.

Your scorching breaths fuse in the refrigerated rink as Yangyang eliminates the inches of space between, his plush mouth ultimately converging with yours.

You have to constantly remind yourself to breathe under Yangyang’s intensity, and remind yourself that you’re in a public space and shouldn’t be making out like this.

But everyone’s skating around the couple, daring to not disrupt the affectionate display.

God, you don’t know when was the last time you’ve been kissed like this. Have you ever even experienced a kiss that was a fraction of this? Yangyang daintily cups your cheeks like you’re glass, but his lips press ruggedly into yours, inflaming your entirety and melting any existence of your figurative fragility.  

You ignore the echo in the back of your mind that reminds you he’s your temporary boyfriend.

The Talk will inevitably occur, but your future self could deal with it. Presently, you’re too caught up, drowning in Yangyang’s embrace.

DECEMBER 24th

On Christmas Eve, Yangyang decides to bring you to an outdoor Christmas market.

Understandably, since it’s the day before Christmas, the place is absolutely packed. For the first fifteen minutes or so, it’s joyous being immersed in the Christmas spirit with the assorted little shops and their respective products. You’re holding Yangyang’s hand tightly, pointing and half-shouting over the bustle about the items that catch your eye.

Unfortunately, someone accidentally bumps against your arms and your hand is gone from his.

Swivelling your head, searching through the crowd, it occurs to you that you officially lost Yangyang.

Your feet come to a halt as your hand attempts to dig into your jacket pocket to pluck your phone out, but the moving crowd forces you to constantly follow the stream.

You yell for him, but words can’t materialize. Your windpipe tightens. Your breath is becoming shallower and shallower. Blood pulses in your ears alarmingly, blocking out the clamour from around you. Your mind’s running everywhere without control.

Where is your boyfriend?

No, scratch that, he’s not your actual boyfriend—where is your best friend?

Did he leave you? He would never.

Right?

But what happens when all of this is over? Will you still have your best friend?

You’ve avoided The Talk long enough, but you didn’t expect to catch feelings for him. Not like this.  

Maybe you’re just destined to be alone.

Is this how it feels to actually lose him?

Tears fight your vision. You hear a faint call of your name, but you can’t urge yourself to turn around, sinking only further into the sea of anonymity. You’re just a face in a crowd, all alone, with no one who cares—

Yangyang grasps you by the arm and maneuvers you aside to a less busy area behind one of the vendor stands.

“Oh, God, thought I lost you there—”

You cut him off, hugging him with all your might and stuff your face in his chest cushioned by the downy layers of his winter jacket. Yangyang immediately drapes his arms securely around you, reading your uneasiness.  

“Hey, I got you. I got you,” he soothes, running a hand through your hair. “God, not my best idea. Sorry for bringing you here.”

You shake your head, wordlessly informing him that it’s okay. You’re just glad to be with him again.

“Wanna go home?”

You nod solemnly, and Yangyang zips you out of there in minutes with his arm tucked by your side,  ensuring he doesn’t lose you in the crowd again.

Fortunately, the jitters mostly disappear when you arrive at your place in the late afternoon. You’re in the middle of rummaging through your keys to unlock your door.

“Sorry I didn’t have anything else planned for today,” he mumbles, leaning with folded arms against the wall.

“Did you...” You insert the correct key and turn the lock, clicking the door open. Your gaze lifts to match his. “Did you wanna maybe have dinner with me tonight? I was thinking of ordering pizza in.”

The grin that reaches his eyes is a sufficient answer for you.

“Wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.” He hangs his arm around your shoulder and plants a kiss atop your head.

After chomping down pizza and playing a few rounds of Super Smash Bros. on Yangyang’s Switch, you peer over to him on your living room couch while he’s figuring out which character he should play next.  

The little mental voice in the back of your mind prods you, reminding that you should really, really have The Talk soon. The Talk that you swept under the rug at the start by saying you’d play everything by ear.

Four dates later, and the thought of this ending scares the living daylights out of you. This not only including the interim relationship, but the dire possibility of the friendship itself too. Is it possible to go back to how you were, flipping it off like a light switch?

But the internal voice is smothered as you’re drawn to his pouting lips in thought. His pouting, oh-so kissable lips. Following the ice skating kiss yesterday, you only shared a good-bye kiss when he dropped you off. Since then, you’ve been itching to have his lips on yours again.

Yangyang eventually detects your lack of focus and finds you gawking at his mouth. Your gaze dashes to his eyes, blinking innocently, but then his eyes flicker to your mouth.

The tension in the room snaps. You two carefully throw the Switch controllers off to one side and attach yourselves together. Unlike the crashing of your bodies at the ice rink, this one is purposeful. Deliberated, as his forehead presses into yours and his tender caress carries your cheek. Your body plummets backwards until Yangyang pins you completely into the couch.

Initially, the lip-locking is gentle and mild. Your fingers lay in the vicinity of his angular visage and sturdy upper frame, in contrast to his hand curling around your waist in a light squeeze.

Soon, hands traverse to other regions—his back, your thigh, his stomach, your ass. Each touch seeking, craving, whining. Tongues slinking and dancing with appetite. Your bodies buzz for more.

Open-mouthed kisses transition from the damp lips to each other’s necks. The touches dig deeper, thriving with hunger. Your back bows, body curving into his. Grinding ensues and his robust desire is blatant against your own pulsing passion.

“You don’t happen to have any condoms on you, do you?” you groan upwards to the ceiling.

He retracts from your neck to swing his head side to side, grumbling a “Sorry, we can stop...” yet you interrupt his apology by cupping his covered length. The guttural groan he exhales into your lips makes you shiver with pleasure.

“Doesn’t mean we still can’t have fun with our hands...” you say slyly.

“Fuck yeah,” he rasps, smirking, before diving in again to taste your mouth.

Clothes are stripped with the assistance of each other, leaving you with only your bra on while Yangyang opts to be completely bare. He tops your body in the same position once more.

On the couch arm rest, your head is perched with his hand clutching the space next to it for leverage. Both figures are too scatter-brained to delve into the exquisite nudity of one another, hands flying desperately to your respective arousals.

Your pretty fingers wrap around his possession almost exactly when he dips two digits into your warmth. In unison, two sharp, quiet gasps pierce the room.

“Shit, you’re so wet,” he hisses observantly. You’re so overwhelmed by the bliss that you can’t assemble any sort of response.

Your mouth’s parted to one side, chest soaring with each plunge. Through his clouded vision, he ambles over your curves and lines and yearns to see your breasts, but he respects your choice of keeping it on and opts to ambush the expanse with kisses. Your chest is launched further into his mouth and Yangyang assumes you’re enjoying this.

Fearing friction burn, you drop him from your grip momentarily, swiping a few licks over your palm. When your hand pumps him again, now drenched with saliva, grunts reverberate against your skin.  

“Yangyang?” you whimper, causing his face to pull away from the temple of your body.

“Yeah, baby?”

“I’m-I’m close.” And he can attest to it; the contractions around him are increasing, harshly squeezing his fingers.    

“Same,” he pants.

Your best friend flicks his wrist with ignition, securing your waves of elation. You attempt to do the same, but it’s difficult when he’s also sloppily thrusting himself into your fist, so you simply clench your grasp harder. His features pinch and choppy moans dribble as he yields to his climax, gushing himself over your stomach.  

Still sucking in lungfuls of air, Yangyang kisses you tenderly before removing himself to clean up the mess he made.

Following the clean-up, while putting on your clothes, Yangyang expresses how he should get going since it’s getting late.

“Did you wanna stay the night?” you pipe up.

His mind races, debating on whether to leave or not, anxious to blur the lines of your relationship even further.

Sure, he’s your temporary boyfriend, thus staying over at your place shouldn’t mean anything. But this agreement is ending next week, and he’s questioning if you two can stay just friends after this, knowing that he’s going to want more. Yangyang has had a taste of the what if, and it’s now irrevocable.

He wants you all for himself. Selfishly, but deeply.

For the sake of keeping this a great thing for you, he shoves his thoughts aside. This is all about you and for your benefit, anyhow.

“Uh, sure, I can take the couch like I always—”

“Yangyang, you just put your fingers inside of me,” you snicker, snagging him by the hand to your bedroom. “C’mon.”

The rest of the night is relatively chaste with some kisses and touches here and there. Eventually, you fall asleep facing each other with your fingers interlocked, excited for the big day tomorrow.

DECEMBER 25th

Normally on Christmas, Yangyang and you spend it with your respective families, but coincidentally, both of your families, your parents being retired and all, ended up vacationing this year, leaving the two of you to spend it with each other.

After getting up around noon, Yangyang heads to his place to grab his gift. He takes longer than you expected because, as it turns out, he also went home to grab baking goods he bought beforehand since he wants to make butter cookies with you today.

The cookies end up fine, but the mess is another story. Besides the chaos on the counter, your faces and aprons are splotched with flour (you swear he started it, but he disagrees and stands his ground that you’re the perpetrator). With a damp cloth, Yangyang aids you to clean, but not forgetting to wipe your face and giving you pecks over your cheeks and nose.  

The baking and aftermath occupies most of the afternoon, so dinner comes in the form of fancy, romantic instant ramen for two. Afterwards, you two sit in your living room and start to exchange gifts.  

Yangyang hands his over to you first. From the size of the gift and the crumpled, oddly-shaped wrapping, you already can guess it’s a stuffed plushie of a cute animal to add to your never ending collection. You hug it tightly with a large smile.

“It’s so cute, thank you!” you squeal, but you change your expression in an instant to a serious pout. “But you can’t steal this one like you did with my Ice Bear plushie.”

“Hey, I didn’t steal Ice Bear, I just forgot to give him back.” You roll your eyes sarcastically and he laughs. “I’ll bring him over tomorrow, if it makes you feel better.”  

Then, when it’s your turn, you head into your bedroom and come out with a large, white shopping bag. His eyebrows raise, unsure of what could warrant a gift this size.

“For being my holiday boyfriend,” you grin, placing the bag in front of his feet.  

Despite the hugest smile on your face, his heart sinks at the label for a second, but he blinks and wills himself to look inside the bag.

His eyes shoot open, so much that you’re scared you might have to stuff them back into his sockets.

Yangyang slips the box out of the bag with precision and stares at it speechlessly.

It’s the new Playstation.

He shifts his eyes toward you. You’re swaying on the couch, pleased by his reaction.  

“Your parents paid for most of it, so I can’t take all the credit.” Sticking a finger in the air, you add, “You just gotta promise to share custody with me though—”

A hand behind your head yanks you into a deep kiss. He’s not the only one left speechless on the couch. He places the top of his head against yours.

“You’re crazy, but I love—” He quickly catches himself from saying something he might regret. “—I love it so much, thank you. Now I feel bad for getting you only the stuffed animal...”

You shake your head softly, brushing your thumb against his cheekbone.

“Thank you for everything.” Your eyes twinkle. “I couldn’t have asked to spend the holidays with anyone else.”

Carefully, like a newborn baby, he safely situates the boxed Playstation to one side and nabs your lips with his again. The scene feels like repeat of last night as your bodies wrestle passionately on the couch.

“Not to be presumptuous,” he mutters between the kisses upon your neck. Your eyelids flutter at the sensation. “But I also grabbed condoms from my place when I stopped by.”

His words sends the two of you leaping towards your bedroom. Under the dim lighting, you fall into the bed as Yangyang pares your layers off, one by one. With each peel, his lips roam the revealing bare skin. You swear he has kissed you from your literal head to toe when you’re fully nude in front of him.

Your companion drags his shirt over his head, throws it off to your floor, and immediately targets in onto your nub with his mouth, finally satiating his craving from last night.

Fingers thread into his hair and over his flexed back. His tongue swirls and his teeth lightly tug on your perkiness, making your eyes roll to the back of your head. And he still isn’t even inside you yet.

After leaving love upon your other bosom, Yangyang fumbles with the condom, forgetting which way it should go on. Giggling, you perch yourself onto your elbows and assist him. Rolling it over his possession, you recline yourself back and spread your legs for him.

Pensively, he sticks his tongue out as he adjusts himself between your sex, easing himself into you, and upon the full impact, you meet his gaze head-on. His stare makes you feel vulnerable and exposed beyond the physical plane.  

But, unlike the others you have been with, you trust him with everything, like you always have, and be free with him. Losing your inhibitions and submitting to your whims, you entangle and become one with Yangyang.  

Behind his hazy vision, Yangyang’s simply thinking how beautiful you are, how he can’t imagine anyone else under his touch but you, how he is willing to give up anything to make you smile.

Well, in this case, he’s willing to give up anything to make you pleased.

However, it doesn’t seem like he needs to do much because you’re howling his name and clinging onto his skin and the sheets in a frenzy, like you’re about to die of exhaustion.

You perish a few times under him before he finally reaches his little death himself, convulsing into the sheath.

When air’s replenished into your bodies, you rest on his chest under your blanket. Glancing up at him, you move some of his tousled hair off his sleek forehead.

“Merry Christmas, Yangyang,” you whisper, snuggling him with a satisfied smile.

“Merry Christmas, babe,” he whispers back, giving you one last peck before you both drift into a deep slumber together.  

DECEMBER 26th

Last night took so much out of the both of you, you don’t get out of bed until about the middle of the afternoon. Yangyang doesn’t have anything planned for today since it’s Boxing Day, since the crowds might be crazy wherever you go, so it’s officially a chill, rest day for you both.

When you step out of the shower in fresh clothes, from behind the couch, you watch Yangyang gaming on his Switch.

The little voice in your head looms, prompting that now is the time to have The Talk, and speaks up on your behalf.

“Do we have to end things next week?” you croak.

You see Yangyang’s shoulders stiffen, then he pauses the game and turns around to face you. His gaze follows you as you step closer to the couch, opting to stand.  

“Uhm.” His Adam’s apple bobs and he shrugs. “It’s up to you, it’s your—”

“Yangyang, that’s not what I’m asking. I’m asking what you think, how do you feel?”

His lips press together and he’s staring at the floor. You can tell the gears are moving, but you can’t read his expression clearly.

“I’m down for whatever you want to do,” he says slowly, eyes still averting yours.

That’s a I’m-your-best-friend answer, you deduce. Not a I-want-to-be-your-actual-boyfriend answer.  

He adds, stuttering, “I mean, I wouldn’t mind doing this a little longer if that’s what you want—”

Your face scrunches in annoyance. “Did you just sign up to be my short-term boyfriend so you can fill my empty heart?”

His eyebrows crease with confusion. “I mean, I never want to see you unhappy.”

“So it’s pity dating then?” you lash, raising your voice.

“No, I—” Yangyang bites down on his tongue, almost letting the one word slip out again. He blows out a lengthy sigh and runs a hand through his hair. “I care about you, so much. I’d do anything to make you happy.”

You’re defining his words as an affirmation of friendship and as an underlying rejection of your love.

You need to know for certain.

“Do you love me, Yangyang?” you blurt. “As more than a friend?”

This is it, Yangyang thinks. This is your chance to let her know how you feel.

But the distress written on your face makes him wonder if he should even go through with it, and it’s intensifying with every passing moment that he’s not speaking.  

If only he knew your distress was deepening because you took his hesitance as absolute rejection.  

Your heart is breaking because of him, and he technically wasn’t even yours to begin with.

You smack your lips together and gulp a few times, trying to make the huge knot in your throat disappear.

“You know what, maybe let’s just forget this arrangement and leave it all behind and forget about the sex and—”

“You wanna stop this?” he utters quietly.

The word “this” hangs heavy in the air. This, carrying the weight of not only being the temporary agreement, but also your friendship.

“Yeah,” you whisper, tears beginning to blur your eyes. “I think I do.”

DECEMBER 28th

Two days have passed since you last saw Yangyang.

That day before he left, Yangyang, feeling guilty for how events unfolded, wanted to give back the Playstation, but you insisted for him to keep it. In spite of everything, it was a Christmas gift to him from you and his parents.

But both of you weren’t sure if the shared custody promise was going to be held up.  

In hopes that things would eventually get better and heal itself, Yangyang thought it’d be best to leave you alone for a while, like how he usually did.

And maybe he was right to do so, but this time is different.

Because he’s on the other end of the stick now; he’s the one who broke your heart.  

Under regular circumstances, whenever you needed space, he was always ready to be there by your side.

But Yangyang’s uncertain if you’re going to let him comfort you this time.  

And you’re uncertain if you even want him to.

DECEMBER 30th

Today, Yangyang finally makes the move to get in touch with you, texting you to call him, but you don’t, so he leaves a voicemail later in the evening.

“There’s a New Year’s party I’m going to tomorrow,” he starts off, then spews the specific details.

There’s a pause and you hear shuffling in the background. You assume he’s pacing around.

“I know you ended our agreement, but I wouldn’t mind fulfilling my end since New Year’s is the last day tomorrow. I’d be really glad if you came to the party with me, whether it be as my friend or my girlfriend.”

Another pause.

On the other end, Yangyang rubs his palm over his face, considering whether or not he should say it. If you picked up the phone call, he was going to do it anyway, but this just felt improper. He wants to say it when he knows you’re listening in real-time, so he ends off the message with:

“I miss you. So much.”

DECEMBER 31st

It’s 8:40PM. Before Yangyang buses out to the party, he’s back at your front door for one more shot. His fist taps at your door, cognizant that you wouldn’t be elsewhere since your other friends are out of town for the holidays. Despite that, you don’t come to the door. Nevertheless, he speaks to you through the wooden barrier.

“Hey, I know you want to be left alone, but I just wanted to see if you changed your mind about the party.”

Still no answer. He lets out a sigh and prays the following will incite a reaction from you.  

“About the question that you asked me that night...”

He closes his eyes and allows his mouth to carry him.

“I do. I do love you. As both my best friend and more. I’m sorry if I hurt you that night by not saying anything, but I love you so much and I think we should give us a shot.”

Still no answer. Yangyang continues.

“Look, I know it’s scary and crazy to date your best friend. I’m scared too, but you know what? I’m okay with being scared. I’ve watched you gone through those assholes over the last few years and maybe you’re scared I’ll end up like one of them, but unlike them, I don’t think you’re horrible or needy or emotional—you’re beautiful, intelligent, and strong for putting up with all those fuckers.”

He leans his forehead gently against the door.

“And even if we ever do break up, and this is a big if because I’ll always try my hardest with you to make it work, I’ll still be your friend. I promise. You won’t lose me ‘cause I need you in my life. I gotta keep my end up for the custody of the Playstation, right?”

A smile breaks over his face from his joke, but still. Radio silence.  

“Can you at least say something?” he begs.

After a few minutes, realizing he needs to probably give you more time to be left alone, he departs and heads to the party.

Originally, you actually were planning on attending the party to see Yangyang to make-up with him.

Unfortunately, out of all the days you had to take a late afternoon nap, it had to be today.

And you overslept. Big time. 

At 10:55PM, you scramble awake, realizing you’re absolutely late to the event. Since the party’s downtown, you know calling an Uber or Lyft there would be fast, but tonight’s the worst night for any share riding service and there aren’t any available drivers. Thus, you have to manage with busing there.

It’s 11:40PM when you finally reach downtown, but the bus can’t take you all the way to the core centre where the party is; hordes of people are out on the streets and traffic is dreadful. God, you’re going to be cutting it close to midnight, but you make a run for it.

You’re grateful the party is on the second floor of a small building because you slide in right through the entrance at 11:58PM. You rush to call Yangyang’s phone, hoping he’ll pick up as you try to find him in the scattered groups of people.

You begin to holler for him in hopes he can hear you, but the countdown is happening, drowning out your voice. Thirty seconds left until the clock strikes for the new year.

When his number finally goes to voicemail, you redial his number. Suddenly, a hand grasps you by the wrist.

Yangyang looks at you, dumbfounded.

“When did you get here?”  

The harmonious chanting around you floods your surroundings.

“Ten, nine, eight...”

Getting closer to him, you practically scream into Yangyang’s face, trusting he’ll hear what you’re about to say.

“I know Christmas is over, but I want to change my wish.”

“Seven, six, five...”

“I know you might not feel the same and I know things might not work out.”

“Four, three, two...”

”But I wish to date you past New Year’s until whenever, however long we last.”

“One...”

“I love you, Yangyang—”

The one you love snatches you by the waist and your cheek, stealing your lips at the last millisecond before midnight.

“Happy New Year!”

A wave of noisemakers, clappers, and hollering erupt around the room. After it dies down a bit, Yangyang shocks you with a scolding.

“Why didn’t you say anything when I came over?!”

Confusion rushes over you. You realize he probably came by when you were sleeping. 

“You came over?!”

“Yeah, I confessed my love for you.”

“Wait,” you blink blankly, unsure if you heard him correctly. “Your love?”

“Yeah,” he nods, giving you his cheesy, adorable smile.  “I love you.”

“As more than a friend?” you clarify.

“Babe,” Yangyang’s thumb caresses your cheek. “I don’t think I could ever go back to wanting less with you.”

Your lips tremble with relief as your gaze melts in his.

“And, anyway, who else am I going to share the Playstation with?”

“Well, I mean, you do have Hendery, Xiaojun, Winwin...” you start to count his infinite list of friends on your fingers.  

“Yeah, but I need you so I can constantly beat your cute little butt at games.”

“You do not constantly beat my cute little butt at games, I’ll have you know that I beat you at—”  

Yangyang shuts you up with another kiss, the one of many for the rest of the night.

JANUARY 2nd

It’s your second morning at Yangyang’s place. You’ve only done it a few times now, but you realize that waking up in his arms is one of the greatest feelings in the world, second only to his kisses.  

In his bed, spooning you from behind, he grumbles into the nape of your neck, “Morning, girlfriend.”  

Half-awake, you mumble back, “Morning, boyfriend,” and sink deeper into the curve of his body.

Content, you finally broke your string of cursed holiday break-ups for good.  

And all it took was to be with the one who was in front of you all this time.

[officialscaramouche]

Hey hey! Could I request the reader overworks themselves and is all tired and stiff but refused to slepe adn keeps pushing so scara steps in and forces them to sleep and relax, like gives them a good massage then helps them sleep?

Anon I loved this prompt!! It was the first thing I did when I woke up, before I even brushed my teeth

pairing: Scaramouche x gn!reader

tw: u may just die of fluff

wc: 1,447

Scaramouche dropped the folder into the box before heading out. He hated working late but what was he to do if the Tsaritsa wanted it before he left. Most of the time she gave a deadline but sometimes she’d want it sooner and that’s fine. He wasn’t incompetent; he could do his work on time. Regardless, he was finished and he couldn’t wait to see you. He passes by your office whenever he leaves simply because he knew you left before him and he always wanted to make sure you didn’t leave anything behind. He hated coming back because you left something, so now he always checked. But something was different this time.

As it was late, nearly everyone had gone home. There were maybe two or three people other than himself that were unfortunately working late, but why was your office lit? He knocked, just to be sure, and pushed the door open. You lay on your desk asleep, drool pooling on your paperwork. He clicked his tongue and shook his head, walking over to your desk to straighten it up. You woke to his stirring, the sound of pens being dropped into your ceramic mug, and stretched up with a groan. “Shit,” you curse, looking at your damp papers. “I didn’t want to fall asleep.”

Scaramouche walked around to you and scooted your chair out, grabbing your hand delicately and guiding you up to your feet. “It can wait for tomorrow,” he said with his usual scowl. “Let’s go home and rest.”

The pressure on your shoulders to pump out more work didn’t go unnoticed by him. He watched you carefully as you sleepily slid into your shared home office and dropped the heavy folder of paperwork on the desk. He rested his chin on your shoulder, wrapping his arms around your waist. “Why don’t you just do that later? It’s my turn to make dinner, so sit down and eat.”

You flipped open the first packet of information and immediately the words began to scramble and jump, making your head sting. “My case manager wants it all done by the end of the week,” you grumbled, massaging your temple. “I haven’t even finished the first set of material he gave me, and he gave me some more today.”

Scaramouche rolled his eyes as he pulled back, crossing his arms. “I hate that mother fucker,” he spat. “I oughta say a thing or two to him.”

“Please don’t,” you sigh. “The last thing I want is for him to take out his frustration on me more than he already has.”

“Fine,” Scaramouche said, turning to leave the room. “But you stop when I’m done cooking. And you don’t touch it again for the night.”

You give him a thumbs up before the door closes behind you.

Scaramouche was intentional with the dinner he made. When he cooked he liked to make healthy foods; it was all that he made when it was just him. But this time he wanted to make something that would put you to sleep on a full tummy. He didn’t need to go get you, as the smell pulled you out on your own. “That smells good,” you sauntered in, peering over his shoulder to look at the pot. “Give me a lot. I didn’t eat lunch today.”

Scaramouche chuckled as he spooned the curry onto your plate. “Of course, baby.”

You took your plate and sat down at the table, your utensils and napkins already there. He came around after a moment with his own plate, setting it on the table before disappearing back into the kitchen for drinks. You ate spoonful after spoonful of Scaramouche’s delicious cooking, your body warm with love and the unmistakable feeling of drowsiness washing over you.

You lean back into your chair when Scaramouche takes your plate to toss in the sink. “That was so good baby, thank you.”

He smiled, undoing his apron to hang on the wall. “You’re welcome, baby.”

“I can wash the dishes in a bit, I’m just so tired.”

Your boyfriend walked up and placed a chaste kiss on your lips. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll do it later. Just go lay down, I’ll join you in the bedroom in a bit.”

You wobble over to your room, being so unbelievably tired. This was the most exhausted you’ve ever been. You were always home first, where you could cook for him or clean the house or go grocery shopping for dinner. But this week you hadn’t been able to get any work done, so you started leaving later, while still getting home with enough time to prepare for Scaramouche. But that wasn’t enough either.

You hated working at home because you know how irritated both you and him get when there’s work to be done at home, and the last thing you wanted was to not get anything done. You stayed the latest you could tonight and you would’ve stayed longer if your boyfriend hadn’t woken you up.

Stripping of your clothes and throwing yourself into bed, the softness of the mattress was already enough to put you to sleep. Scaramouche walked in not too long after, crawling into bed next to you. He leaned over you, kissing the backs of your shoulders, hands reaching up to squeeze the muscle there. “Mmn,” you groan at his touch. “You don’t have to, sweetie.”

He continues with his kisses and squeezes. “I want to, though,” he says against your skin. “My baby’s been working so hard lately. You deserve it.”

He gets all the way up, straddling your bottom as he works his hands into your back. His touch is firm, but not too rough, and he’s kneading out the knots in your neck. His touch kind of tickles, his coarse hands scratching at your soft back.

Then he goes down your spine, gently working out the cracks in each vertebrae as he goes down, smoothing out the muscles that hold you up all day. As badly as you wanted to enjoy the massage, you can’t fight the sleep that takes over under his touch.

For the first time ever, you’re the one who wakes up after him. You jolt awake, realizing you’ve slept longer than normal, and you hurry to the bathroom to get ready. You had another long day ahead of you, and you were already up to a late start. Scaramouche’s side of the bed was already cold and made, and you were a little upset that he didn’t bother to wake you up knowing you had so much to do.

You shimmy into whatever clean clothes you had and throw the bedroom door open and run to the kitchen for a quick breakfast. But breakfast had already been made, and Scaramouche was putting up the last of the dishes. “I was just about to wake you,” he said calmly. “Sit and eat while it’s still hot.”

You brush past him and kiss him on the cheek. “Thanks baby, but I’m just gonna take some fruit and go. I need to get started on my work.”

Scaramouche dries his hands with a rag and flips it over his shoulder, jutting his thumb over to the table. “Don’t worry about it, I did it last night.”

You peek from behind the fridge. “You what?!”

“Yeah, while you were sleeping last night. It’s fine, just sit down and eat please.”

Your eyes sting as the tears approached, and you cried tears of happiness. You were so stressed about getting all of this done, and yet your amazing boyfriend managed to do it all in one night. “T-Thank you S-Scara!!! How did you d-do all of it?!”

He let out a laugh and pulled you close to him, cradling you with an arm around your waist and a hand on your chin. “I’ve been doing paperwork all of my life, sweet thing.” He kissed you and thumbed at the tears on your cheeks. “Now please, eat with me.”

You stuffed your face with rice and grinned. “I hope he doesn’t give me anything more to do,” you spoke through your food. “But if he does, I’ll do it all by myself.”

Scaramouche sipped his tea and looked at you from over the rim. “I sure hope he doesn’t either,” he chuckled, knowing very well that a passive-aggressive note with his stamp right in the middle of the page had just so happened to slip inside your folder. And if “Don’t dump your bullshit reports on your colleagues just because your dick is too small and face too ugly for Signora to notice you,” doesn’t work, then termination would do just fine.