#and it does bring a smile to my face every time i get an email saying i got kudos!

[lazerbang]

authors complaining that their comments aren't eloquent enough should perhaps not post that thought publicly for this exact reason

yes, unsolicited criticism is pretty much never welcome. once i got a comment saying essentially 'this was good but i can never imagine this character saying this line' and i was just like.... okay??? so we imagine him differently? you're welcome for the free fic?

personally, i am THRILLED with any comment to which i could say 'omg thanks so much!' if i CANNOT say 'omg thank you!!' to your comment, reconsider

sure, the more in depth the comment is, the more it means to an author, and we crave the occasional super long and detailed comment, but a simple 'i really enjoyed this, thanks for posting it' is going to make nearly every author's day

if you want to say a little more, find any one specific thing you liked about the fic, and mention that! the more specific the better! quote a line you really enjoyed! say the descriptions were vivid! that the dialogue was good! that you think they wrote the character really well! say you wish you could leave multiple kudos! say that it made you laugh, made you cry, made you throw your phone across the room! comments are motivating! you will get more of the stuff you like if you encourage the people writing it!

current fan creation landscape is kinda like if you went to a party with a homemade cake and everyone takes a slice and silently thumbs up at you with no attempt to start a conversation except for occasionally some guy sits in the corner with a tape recorder critiquing the cake as though he was a restaurant critic and another guy is handing the cake to an uber driver like "yeah i need you to find a restaurant that makes cake like this so i can have more of it" and the only person that's talked to you in 30 minutes is a very sweet little guy who was like "hey i liked your cake" and then ran away apologizing for bothering you the moment you said thank you.

[kingkat12]

art on art (eric draven x reader)

WARNINGS: 18+, piv sex, oral sex (female receiving), drug mentions, nasty fluff tihi

summary: why hasn't Eric reached out after leaving rehab yet, and how long does it take for marker ink to fade?

word count: 5,272 PART 1, PART 2, PART 3

a/n: this is part 3 of my Eric Draven fanfic draw you! thanks again for the overwhelming support of this series, and enjoy!!<333

Some broken part of me never expected to see Eric again. I knew that the previous men in my life would leave the second they got what they wanted out of me, so why should I hope for this one to be different?

I had been out of rehab for exactly two weeks now, and I knew this meant that Eric was out as well. He had my address, he had my number, and he weirdly enough also had my email address... yet I hadn't heard anything from him. Not a single thing. I wasn't quite sure why my heart was breaking at the realization I had been thrown away again-- I should be used to this.

In actuality, I knew exactly why my hopes were up.

The last time I saw Eric, had been right before I was about to leave rehab. We were standing in my room, the guards no longer watching me as I was technically excused and only there to get my stuff. I was packing everything into a big cardboard box, unable to meet Eric's green eyes as he sat on my bed-- he just looked so damn sad, I couldn't bring myself to watch. 

At the same time, I couldn't believe that he was upset about me leaving; no one had ever cared for me like that before. "Why do you look like that?" I eventually asked, stuffing his drawings into a book so that they wouldn't get ruined during the move. 

"Like what?"

"Like I'm about to shoot a puppy,"

Eric snorted, a slight smile finally forming across his lips. "Just thinking about how shit these next days are going to be without you here,"

I dared to gaze at him, watching his chest rise and fall in a long sigh. Even while doing the simplest act of sitting, Eric looked downright gorgeous. His dark hair had grown even longer during the time we had known each other, which allowed slight curls to form along his forehead. Draped in pink, tattoos peeking up from the collar of his jumper, green eyes soft with feelings-- the sight was almost enough to make my breath hitch.

"Oh, you won't notice I'm gone," I mumbled, trying to lighten the mood at the same time as I tried to be discreet about shoving my underwear down into the box. "Time will fly by, don't you worry."

Eric shifted, moving closer to the edge of the bed. He stopped me from picking up the next batch of my stuff, leading my hands into his as his rounded eyes sunk into mine. "You're saying that as though I won't miss you,"

I held my breath, unsure what to say. 

Eric noticed my hesitance, squeezing my hands; "I will miss you. Do you understand that?"

Oh, I most certainly did not understand that. Not at all. But it didn't stop my heart from swelling, beating harder than it probably ever had before. It also didn't get any better when Eric led me between his legs, letting go of my hands so that he could put his against my waist. He looked up at me through his thick, long lashes, clearly trying to make me understand the longing lingering in his body. "Will you miss me?"

There was no question in my mind that I would. I'd miss him every second of every day, as I already did. However, I wasn't sure whether it was smart to tell him this, or whether that would make him lose interest like my previous flings. But weirdly enough, something told me I could trust this guy-- or was that just his pretty face doing the talking? "I will," I said, taking his face into my hands, brushing my thumbs over his cheeks in a newfound sense of affection.

Eric's previously glossy look suddenly became a hopeful one-- he pulled me even closer, my hands going up into his hair as he buried his face against the crook of my neck. 

There was something so sincere about him, that I couldn't help but smile. Even now, as I remembered it. Was I stupid to imagine that it had all been real? That he hadn't acted like he would miss me just out of pity?

This was definitely my insecurity talking. I needed to get it all out of my head-- which is exactly why I ended up going out tonight, my friends by my side as we made our way into our usual spot at the club downtown. Being back in the darkness of this place, music blasting through my ears, brought a lot of memories back; specifically the dark ones. 

However, I wasn't drinking. I wasn't taking anything, and I wasn't planning on doing so. In the back of my mind, I kept imagining a scenario where Eric would finally reach out and find me relapsed... and that was certainly not ideal. Then he'd definitely not want to be with me.

Maybe I just needed to forget about him?

And so I began trying-- it didn't take long before I sat down next to some guy trying to tell me about his life story. I had never been this disinterested in my life, allowing him to put his arm around me as I stared up at the light-show on display across the roof, lost in thought.

I wondered where Eric was. What he was doing, who he was with, where he was. Whether he thought about me at all. It quickly hit me that being sober at a club took away all the fun, and with alcohol floating around right before my eyes, I wondered whether I should bother staying sober or not. I didn't exactly have anyone to stay clean for, as I thought I would. 

And just as I was about to ask the guy next to me whether I could have the tiniest sip of his beer, I spotted a familiar tall frame across the room. I blinked several times, straightening up in my seat as though I was a woman possessed. I was sure it was him-- I immediately knew the second I saw the tattooed poem on his back peeking through the top of his shirt.

As though I had heard a gunshot, I got up from the couch, my whole body tingling with unexpected excitement. This was an adrenaline surge unlike anything drugs could give me, and it only grew stronger as Eric seemed to be leaving. 

Panicked, I sped up into a light jog despite being in heels, making my way through the crowd on the dancefloor. It didn't take long before I caught up to him, grabbing the sleeve of his shirt.

Eric had a bewildered look about him as he frantically searched who it could be that had held him back from leaving. When his big, green eyes finally landed on me, they widened as he broke out into a look of relief. "There you are!" he exclaimed, his large hands grabbing my shoulders. "I've been looking for you all over!--"

I was sure I would've started crying if I hadn't reached for the collar of his shirt, tugging him down to my level to press my lips against his in the neediest kiss I had probably ever shared. I flung my arms around his neck as he pulled me closer, both of us letting out relieved sighs at our reunion. 

I wanted to stay like this forever, swimming in the bliss of being reunited with the man who had haunted my every waking thought. However, I couldn't let myself revel in the joy before I got the answer to my question; "You never called!" I said, my hands now at the sides of his face. "You never fucking called!"

Eric hummed, connecting our foreheads as he closed his eyes. "I did... just from a different number. You never answered, so I had to track you down all the way here,"

My thumbs stroked over his cheeks, my anger simmering down into a slow ache. The thought of Eric calling without getting a response made me feel worse than bad. "How?" was all I was able to say, leaning forward to kiss the tip of his nose.

Eric blushed a little before pulling away, and I was unsure whether the reason for my sudden dizziness was the loud music or his smile. God, he was gorgeous. "Our dealers are cousins," he said, wrapping his arms around my waist as we swayed on the dance floor. "And your guy told me I could find you here."

"I see," The loving look in Eric's eyes nearly made me melt— it was clear that he had missed me as well. But my questions kept coming to me; "Why did you get a different number? Is everything alright?"

With that, Eric's smile faltered just a little. His grip around my waist tightened as he brought one hand up to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear in a loving gesture. "I... suppose there's a lot I have to tell you, now that I've come all this way,"

I could sense that this was serious— I had seen enough of those guilty eyes for one lifetime. "I see," I repeated, pulling him in for another kiss, reveling in the feeling of tasting him again. There was nothing I had missed more about rehab than this. "Let's talk it out somewhere else, then?"

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

It wasn't every day that I brought back men from the club— my policy was no men at my place at all, just in case I encountered a serial killer in disguise. But this thing with Eric was different; he could've moved in for all I cared. He could also proceed to burn it all down, rip me apart with his bare hands, and I'd let him.

However, the difference between Eric and the other men in my life was that I knew, deep down in my heart, that he would never hurt me; which is why I let him into my apartment.

I watched as Eric took a look around, his hands tucked into his front pockets as he whistled; "Quite the place,"

Shrugging, I made my way towards him as he towered over everything in my living room. "Sure is,"

Eric turned to me, a raised brow on display. "You're telling me you're loaded?"

I felt a bit embarrassed— I knew that once Eric found out the truth, he'd think of me just as all the other ones did. The spoiled girl who had nothing else to do but turn to drugs to get a high out of life. I couldn't help but grow nervous, unsure how to explain the truth to him; "Well... It's my parents' money,"

Eric nodded to himself, stepping towards me. "Are they around much? I didn't see them visiting you in rehab,"

The truth stung. "They don't want to look their biggest disappointment in the eye," I mumbled, my gaze falling to my feet. "But they make sure I'm still alive, I suppose. So it's not that bad."

There was a silence before I suddenly felt Eric's long, slender fingers beneath my chin, tilting me up so that I could meet his gaze. I wasn't sure what I was expecting to see, but it certainly wasn't this; compassion. "Their loss," he said, the emerald green of his eyes engulfing my being with unexpected kindness. "At least you got a great apartment out of it."

I let out a warm laugh, now keening against the palm of his hand as he placed it to my cheek. "I've missed you,"

As Eric smiled down at me, it was obvious that his heart fluttered at the sight of me. I had never thought someone would ever look at me like that. "I've missed you too," he breathed. "Thought about you during every waking moment of every day. You have no idea how glad I am that I found you."

I could barely believe this was real— didn't stuff like this only happen in movies? "If only I had known you called," I mumbled, placing my hand on top of his. "Being without you was just hell... What happened?"

Eric inhaled a sharp breath, an unintelligible emotion swimming in his eyes. "I want to be honest with you, but... I'm afraid you'll run,"

In a flash of desperation, I placed his hand against my heart. "I have nowhere else to run but to you,"

Eric's green eyes rounded out, his lips parting in confusion— was I maybe not the only one stunned by the confessions of complete and utter love tonight? "I— Fuck," 

With that, Eric's strong hands gripped my waist, pulling me towards him as our lips came together in a hungry kiss. The sheer force of it, along with the element of surprise, nearly had me stumbling a few steps back. But Eric only followed; I nearly moaned out as I felt his tongue against mine, my hands flying up into his dark locks and pulling him closer. I had missed him more than I had ever missed anything in the world, including drugs— all my swarming feelings of never-dying love had me pushing away all my needs for an answer from him regarding his phone, and I let my back hit the surface of the couch as Eric hovered above me.

"Missed you," he breathed in between kisses, a slight growl to his voice. Something told me Eric was trying to melt himself into me to make sure we would never be apart again— it only made my need for him stronger. I clung to him, my legs wrapping around his tall figure as I attempted to pull him even closer than he already was. 

Fuck, his lips were so soft. Deadly soft. The way Eric was nipping at my lower lip, occasionally sinking his teeth into it to draw out a whimper, was making a familiar knot form in my lower abdomen. I barely registered that my dress was gone before I watched him discard his shirt somewhere on the floor— now that we finally had time, I let my fingers run over his tattoos, smiling into the next kiss as I realized we would finally have that messy morning I was promised. I couldn't wait to lie in his arms, tracing every piece of art on his skin, taking it all in— this was heaven. Everything about finally being alone with Eric was heaven. 

"Missed you too," I eventually managed to moan out, feeling him grow hard against the apex of my thighs. "I don't ever want to be without you again." My breath hitched as Eric left wet kisses down jaw, neck, breasts, and stomach, knowing exactly where he was heading. I drew my hand towards my mouth, gently biting down to suppress a rather girly squeal. 

"You'll never be," Eric purred against my skin, sinking his teeth gently into my thigh to evoke a sound. "If you think we're ever going to be apart from now on, I need you to scour that pretty little brain of yours once more."

It was impossible not to smile, and I squirmed against the couch before Eric's big, strong hands grabbed my hips, holding me in place as he pressed a kiss against my clothed sex. However, I couldn't shake the feeling that he was doing this to avoid telling me what had happened in the moments we had been apart. Despite wanting to give in to the pleasure, let him tease me and keep me on the edge through the night, my mind wouldn't let me.

In the moment Eric threw my underwear to the floor, now kissing up my thighs and leaving me breathless, I propped myself up on my elbows; "Hold on," I breathed, reaching down to run my fingers through his hair in hopes of getting his attention. "Eric, wait--"

As he looked up at me through his brows, eyes wide with confusion as he paused for me, I didn't know whether I could go through with it. This moment was so damn precious, something I had been longing for ever since the moment I saw him; so why couldn't it wait? With a sigh, I laid back down. 

"You okay?" Eric asked, his thumb rubbing a soothing circle against my hipbone. "Wanna stop?"

That was definitely not it-- I let in a lazy breath, my eyelids drooping over my eyes as my body shivered at the feeling of his hot breath against my cunt. Everything about this situation was making my brain shut down. "No... I don't want to stop," My hands reached for his, and Eric let out a hum, his free hand now ghosting over my sex. "Just wondering whether you drew it or not."

"Drew what?"

"What we did in that stairwell,"

Eric's eyes sparkled with amusement as he laughed, placing a wet kiss against the inside of my thigh. "You bet I did,"

"Will you show me?"

He hummed against my skin; "Later... I'm a little busy here, as you see," Eric hooked his arms around my legs, dragging me closer to him as I yelped. I could only laugh, the realization that I had finally gotten all I had ever wanted hitting me just as I felt the warm trickle of spit running down my cunt-- my hips bucked up in surprise, my breath escaping me. I was about to prop myself up on my elbows for a second time, hoping to get a look at what the fuck he was doing, but as he ran his tongue up between my folds with a ridiculously soft touch, I could only whimper.

The memory of Eric saying he would take his time with me when we were out of rehab suddenly dawned on me-- I was in for the long run.

It didn't take long before he had me writhing beneath him, a whimpering, panting mess. With every swirl of his tongue around my clit, every time he sucked in my aching bud between his plush lips, I held back the urge to buck my hips up against him. It got increasingly hard to keep still, especially when Eric pulled away to simply breathe down on my sex, knowing exactly where he had me. 

"Fuck," I cried, reaching down to run my fingers through his hair-- I did my best not to tighten my grip, fighting the urge to use his dark locks as handles. 

I could feel Eric smiling against me, leaning down to press a soft kiss against my clit; my breath immediately hitched, bucking up against his mouth in an attempt to beg for more. His fingers dug themselves into my thighs, driving my legs further apart as he made space for his broad shoulders. I whined at the loss of friction when he tilted his head to look up at me, and a shiver ran up my spine at the look of his face, slicked with my arousal. 

A mischievous smile spread across Eric's plush, glistening lips; "Someone's impatient,"

I could feel my cheeks redden with embarrassment, lolling my head back down against the couch-- looking at him only made it worse. "Can you blame me? You're doing this on purpose," 

Eric hummed, one hand leaving my thigh to lazily rub soft circles around my clit, using my slick as a lubricant. It only made me squirm, letting out a shaky moan as my back arched slightly off the couch. Even worse, was that I started to feel a small tremble appearing in my hands. "Can't handle a little teasing?" he said, biting his lip as he watched me attempt to suppress my noises. "You keep saying you've waited for me... What happened to your patience?"

I held back the urge to simply kick him-- but that thought immediately slipped out of my mind the second Eric flattened his tongue against me, licking a stripe all the way up to my swollen clit. It was impossible to suppress the hitch of my breath, and the tug I gave his hair in response was purely instinctual. It surprised me further to hear him enjoy it; I decided to keep that observation stored for later.

I had a feeling Eric knew my mind was buzzing, that he wouldn't be able to toy with me much longer. There might've been a few giveaways that I was at my wit's end-- all of which left me feeling like an even bigger mess than I already was beneath him. "I- I can't," I whined, my words leaving me as Eric sucked me in once more. "Wait, please!--"

He hummed against me, now pressing his lips against the crease of my thigh as a chuckle built in his throat. "Fine, fine," he said, playfully sinking his teeth into my skin, his green eyes watching my every move. "I suppose I'm dragging this out... I don't know why I'm feeling nervous."

Nervous? Eric didn't look very nervous to me. "It's just me, though?" I tried, attempting to catch my breath as I laid my hand on top of his. My next words came out shakier than anticipated, especially now that he was kissing his way back up my body; "You don't need to be nervous."

Eric hummed, his large, tattooed hands kneading my chest, kissing along the hem of my bra. "It's just... When you left rehab," he started, his lips pressing along my collarbones. "I realized it took me days to recover after a dream with you in it."

The rush of joy surging through my veins reminded me of a hit of amphetamine-- it was all-taking, consuming, and I wanted nothing more than to press him so closely that we'd melt together. "Eric--"

"I've drawn you over and over," he breathed, kissing up my neck with a toe-curling softness. "In every way possible. Imagined the way you'd look at me after waking up in the morning, how it would feel to kiss your pretty little face good night..." Eric's lips hovered above mine, our shared breaths hot and shaky against one another as he continued; "I want you to burn into me like warm glass, mold into one. It sounds insane, but... how else can I ensure we stay together?"

My eyes were wide, finding his, as my hands reached up to cup his face. Like this, I finally had the time to admire the tattoo above his right brow, the deep scar on his cheek, and the tattoo above it. I stroked my thumb over the ink, holding back from connecting our lips just yet; "If you think I'm ever leaving you, I need you to scour that pretty little brain of yours" I breathed, watching his pupils dilate as I bit back a smug smile. "Do I need to remind you that I'm all yours?" My fingers now ghosted over his lips, still wet with my slick, as an idea suddenly hit me. "Actually..."

Eric watched in confusion as I shifted beneath him, now reaching for the table right by the couch. There, I had left a marker which I had previously used to write a birthday card, and I took it into my hand before laying back down, looking up at the puzzled look on his face. "I'm not able to physically melt into you, but..." 

Eric's green eyes widened further, watching as I popped the cap and drew a tiny little heart on the peak of his shoulder.

I met his gaze, beaming up at him; "I can leave my mark,"

The most unexpected thing happened-- The sight of Eric welling up in tears was not something I had counted on when I let my impulses take the lead. For a second, I got genuinely worried I had overstepped all boundaries until he pinned my hand above my head and pressed a needy, passionate kiss against my lips.

I couldn't control the moan that escaped me, my hips bucking up against his, feeling his hard length grind down and brush up against my clit as our chests came together, pulling each other in as close as possible. The need I felt for Eric was undescribable, ravaging through my being-- I had never wanted anyone as bad as this. 

Mind dulled by anticipation and pleasure, I barely registered that he had managed to pry the marker from my fingers and pull it into his hand. Eric disconnected the kiss, pressing his wet lips against my cheek before propping himself up on his knees, scanning his canvas. "I'm definitely dreaming now," he whispered, mostly to himself, hovering above me as he drove the marker tip to the point where my ribs met on my chest. 

I could only smile, watching my favourite artist at work with admiration blossoming in my chest. Knowing I would be decorated with his work made me even more hot and bothered; I did my best to get a look at what he was drawing without disrupting his process. 

Eric drew a line down my chest, a few leaves scattered along it-- it dawned on me that he was drawing a rose. A beautiful, big rose, with that same scratchy style that I recognized from his previous creations. I watched him dart his tongue out, keeping it between his lips, focused; I couldn't help but find it endearing.

"Art on art," he breathed, pulling away to drink in the sight of what he had drawn on my body. Eric's green eyes found mine, his shy smile returning to his plush, glistening lips. "You're beautiful. You're so beautiful."

"So are you," I held back the urge to cry happy tears, my hands reaching out for him. "I love it, Eric. I'm scared of needles, so I won't be able to get this tattooed... Meaning you'll have to draw it over and over. Would you do that for me?"

Eric let out a choked laugh, eyes glossing over as he put the cap back on the marker, discarding it somewhere before returning to his place above me. "I'd do anything for you,"

I hadn't smiled so brightly in what felt like years. Like this, at this moment, I was sure this was it. He was it. 

Before I knew it, we were completely lost in the fiery kiss that ensued-- Eric's tongue against mine, hands lost around my waist as my fingers hooked into his dark locks, our chests heaving at one another. I was so gone, so dizzyingly aroused, that when I felt his thick cock pushing past my sopping entrance, I could only gasp. 

Eric let out a grunt, both of us moaning into the kiss at the immediate relief-- I could barely believe that this was real, that we were back as one. In a sense, this was the melting together that we had both craved so badly. 

My nails dug into his back, leaving crescent marks in their wake as I let him push further into me. Eric buried his face in the crook of my neck, letting out a breathy groan against my skin when he finally moved. His cock stroked my walls the same way it had that one evening in the stairwell, the exact feeling I had chased as I buried my fingers deep inside of me every night since-- I had forgotten how the real deal had felt. How mind-numbingly good it felt to have Eric in me.

I whimpered as I felt his cock throb upwards, immediately hitting my sweet spot, and I wrapped my legs around him, wanting nothing more than to stay like this forever. Knowing I bared his mark on my chest, knowing he had dreamed of this as well, only strengthened the electricity running all the way up to the tips of my fingers. I didn't know how I was supposed to last long at all, especially when I heard Eric moan out my name-- I shivered, pressing my lips against the heart I had drawn on his shoulder. 

I noticed a blush creep up his cheeks before he connected our lips once more, but it was hard to kiss properly when we were both in a heavy daze of pleasure-- we ended up mostly breathing against one another, Eric's green eyes watching as I let out a string of moans with every stroke of his cock. 

"You're everything," Eric rambled, nipping at my lower lip to suppress another grunt. "You're everything, you're-- Fuck!--" His hands dug into my hips, fucking me properly into the couch as he deepened his thrusts. 

My heart fluttered in my marked chest as I realized we were both looking down to watch our union-- the sight of Eric's cock pumping in and out of me, the wet sounds of our love filling the room, was almost enough to bring me over the edge. I also caught a glimpse of the petals drawn over my body, realizing I was admiring both the art and his body against mine. 

My back arched off the couch as Eric shifted, angling his thrusts upwards-- now, he was dead on pumping his cock against my sweet spot, which had me mewling out against his lips. "Eric, I-- I'm not gonna last, a-ah!--"

With glossy eyes, I watched a smirk spread across Eric's lips; "Let go if you need to," he cooed, his dark hair now kissing his forehead as he let out a laboured grunt. "We'll go again, baby-- hah, don't worry."

That was all I needed-- my heart fluttered, realizing we had all the time in the world to fuck all through the night. 

Forever, if we wanted to.

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

This was nice. Stupidly nice. Nothing in my life had prepared me for this moment.

The softness of his fingers running up my bare shoulder, the kindness with which he bathed me-- I didn't even know this existed before now. I looked up at Eric, my head nuzzled against his broad, tattooed chest as we lay in post-coital bliss. I reached out to trace the heart I had marked him with, and I wondered what else I could draw on his beautiful body.

However, I knew I had to ask the question he hadn't been willing to answer yet. I had to look past how heavy his beautiful lashes looked in his drowsy state, and how badly I wanted to reach out and trace the upward slope of his nose, to ask what needed to be asked. "Eric?"

He hummed, glancing down at me. 

It was incredibly hard to take my eyes off his kiss-swollen lips. "You never told me,"

"Told you what?"

It felt as though we'd had this conversation about three times now; "You didn't tell me why you changed your number. Or why you waited to reach out. Or, better yet, why you didn't just show up here... I even gave you my address," I couldn't stop the imminent pout appearing across my lips-- I had forgotten how upset I was about this. "I waited for you. I nearly drove myself crazy thinking I'd imagined it all."

Sighing, Eric's gaze diverted to the ceiling. "I'm sorry. I will tell you everything. Just... could I have one more day?"

"What?" Something told me that his secret was a lot more damning than I initially thought-- why was he so reluctant to tell me? Did he think it would change how I felt?

"One more day," he echoed, his tattoed hand mindlessly traveling up into my hair as his eyes glossed over.  "Just give me one more day..."

I didn't know what to say, at a loss for words. Instead, I popped the cap to the marker in my hand, realizing I wouldn't be the one to deny him his one wish. Eric closed his eyes with a sigh of relief as he felt the tip of the marker against his skin once more; time was a gift I was willing to give him.

I was willing to give him absolutely anything he'd ever want-- I just hoped it wouldn't be the death of me.

(a/n: PART 1 and PART 2 linked here<33 thank you for reading!!)

[merrybloomwrites]

Good Girl

Summary: You love how sweet and kind and soft your boyfriend his. But every now and then, you love to bring out his rough side, which always leaves you more than satisfied.

Word Count: 1.7K

Content Warning: cockwarming, p-in-v sex, daddy kink, spanking (just 1 tho)

AN: I was going to do a Louis smut and a Niall comfort fic and then said, nah, I gotta switch that. So enjoy this pure Niall smut!

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Waking up in your plush king bed, you stretch before rolling over to cuddle up to your boyfriend. 

So you’re most upset when you find that Niall is not there. 

Last night had been perfect. He’d gotten home early, the two of you cooked a delicious meal together before falling into bed for a night of slow and gentle lovemaking.

So it’s no surprise that you wake up wanting more. Maybe a little something less slow and gentle. Like being pounded into the bed. That sounds like a wonderful time. You’d love some passionate and rough sex right about now. 

The only thing missing? Your boyfriend.

Huffing out a breath you throw the sheets aside and stand up. You’re just in one of Niall’s large t-shirts and a pair of his boxers, but you don’t change before going downstairs. Maybe appearing like this will help you get what you want.

But Niall isn’t in the kitchen, or the living room, or anywhere on the first or second floors. Which leaves the basement. More specifically, the studio/office that’s down there. 

And that, well that could throw a wrench in your plans. Because if Niall is in work mode, you don’t have much of a chance breaking him out of it. But you don’t let that deter you.

Heading back to the kitchen you start to make a plan. You grab some breakfast then go to the bathroom to freshen up before finally heading down to the basement. 

Peaking your head into the office, you’re not surprised to see Niall at the desk. He seems to be answering emails, which works in your favor. If he’d been working on new music you’d probably be out of luck. He just gets too focused, and truthfully, the guitar would be quite in the way.

But sitting at the desk writing replies? That you can work with. 

“Good morning,” you say as you enter, letting Niall know you’re there.

Immediately he turns, a large smile on his face as he says, “Morning, baby. Sleep okay?”

“I did. Could’ve woken up better, though.” You pout, giving Niall your best puppy eyes to really catch his attention.

“Aw, what’s wrong?” he asks, now sporting a pout of his own.

“I woke up and you weren't there.”

His joking pout now turns into a gentle smile as he reaches out to you. “C’mere,” he says and pulls you to sit in his lap sideways. His arms wrap around your waist and you rest your head on his shoulder, your face tucked into his neck.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there. I ignored these emails last night to get home to you but I can’t put them off any longer. I promise to come cuddle you as soon as I’m done,” he explains. 

When you don’t reply right away Niall grows worried, unsure what’s going on in your mind. After some silence you finally say, “What if I didn’t want to cuddle?”

“Oh? Then what did you have in mind?”

Without hesitating you press a kiss to his neck and roll your hips down.

“Oh!” He says, now picking up on what you want. “Naughty girl, coming in here to distract me.”

“What are you gonna do about it? Punish me?” You lean back as you say this, your eyes meeting his, your eyebrows raised, challenging him. 

“Yea, maybe I will. Bad girls deserve a punishment. But what should I do with you?” He pretends to think about it, already knowing what he wants. But he likes making you squirm, just a bit. 

“You’ve caused me a bit of a problem,” he finally says. You look at him confused but then his hands go to your waist and he presses you down. You gasp as you feel his hard length press against your bum. “This will be quite distracting. I’d like you to keep me warm while I finish my work. How does that sound?”

A wave of desire rolls through you at that. He knows how much you love cockwarming, but it’s rare that the two of you do it. Normally once he’s inside of you, neither of you can hold back. But this is the perfect opportunity. 

“That sounds like exactly what I need to learn my lesson,” you manage to reply. 

“Good. Get me out and take off those pants,” he says. You stand up and remove the boxers you’re wearing and then your hands go to his waistband. You look at him for a second, waiting for a nod before lowering his sweats and underwear just enough for his cock to spring out. Just the sight of his dick, the perfect length and girth, has you dripping.

“Go on. Keep me warm,” he commands, and you move to straddle his lap. His hands stay on the armrests as you line yourself up and slowly sink down. His expression remains stoic, not giving away if he’s enjoying this at all. It drives you crazy, this uninterested act. It’s so unlike Niall, the man who normally praises you at all times. But it’s so perfect for this moment. 

The shuddering breath he lets out once you’re completely seated on him is the only give away that he’s affected at all. He slides his chair forward and reaches around you to get back to his work. The only sound in the room is the tapping of keys.

You do your best to stay still, but the longer he works, the harder it is. You fidget, then clench around him, causing him to groan. He then lands a smack to your asscheek and says, “Be good and don’t move.”

Not wanting another reprimand you put all your focus on listening to him. But it’s so hard! He just feels so wonderful, filling you up so perfectly. 

After what feels like forever, he stops typing and pushes the chair back from the desk. 

“Look at me,” he says, and you move from where you’ve been hiding against his neck in order to meet his eyes once more. “Think you’ve learned your lesson?”

“Yes, daddy,” you reply. Niall takes a deep breath, that name affecting him deeply. It’s not one you use much, but he knows what it means. It means you want him to take charge, to take what he wants. You just want to give yourself to him. 

“Hold on tight,” he says and you wrap your arms and legs around him. He places his hands under your bare bottom and, in an impressive show of strength, stands up with you still attached to him. He walks a few steps to the couch and lays you both down. 

“Ready for a reward?” he asks, his blue eyes shining with excitement.

“I’m ready,” you reply. He quickly leans down, attaching his lips to yours in a bruising kiss. When he pulls back his eyes are soft, and he says, “If it’s too much just tell me, okay?”

“Okay,” you say. After this moment of softness, you watch his switch back to the rough persona he’s using right now. And it has another wave of arousal run through you. Niall's eyes close in pleasure, and you know he’s just felt a gush of wetness escape around his cock. That’s all he needs to start moving, setting a brutal pace from the first thrust.

He pounds in and out of you, hitting just the right spot and sending shocks through your body. Your mouth goes slack, your mind unable to form any words as pleasure continues to grow. 

You’re both getting close, and Niall moves a hand to rub circles on your clit. He knows when you’re just about to come, and he leans down to say, “Be a good girl and come for me. Come for daddy.”

That’s all it takes to send you over the edge. You shout and arch your back, your toes curling as intense pleasure overtakes you. 

“What a good girl, that’s it, ride it out, baby,” Niall says as she continues his thrusts inside you. It’s just when you start to come down that Niall picks up his pace even more, chasing his own high. The rough thrusts send you into a second orgasm before you’ve even recovered from the first, and this time, Niall is coming with you. 

He bits down gently on your shoulder as he releases inside of you, his hips finally slowing. The two of you lay there a moment, breathing in each other's air as you try to catch your breath.

“I’m gonna pull out now, okay?” Niall asks, back to his sweet personality. 

“Okay,” you reply quietly. You hiss as he pulls out, extra sensitive after everything that just happened.

“I know, baby, it hurts a bit, doesn’t it? I’m sorry lovie,” he says, and somehow just those words help ease the pain.

You finally come back to reality and look at the state of the two of you. Niall is still basically dressed and he tucks his now soft cock back into his sweats. He helps you pull down the shirt you’re wearing so that you’re covered as well, knowing how shy you get after. 

“You alright?” he asks.

You give him a dazed smile and say, “So good. That was exactly what I needed. Did you like it?”

“Like it? Honey, I loved it. Absolutely amazing, you are.” You giggle and he leans in for a sweet kiss. 

“C’mon. Let’s get cleaned up and then we can watch a movie together. It’s time for those cuddles I mentioned.” 

Niall helps you stand and walk upstairs. He dotes on you, carefully helping you clean up in the shower and then keeps his promise of cuddles. You’re back in his arms, now resting together on a different couch while one of your favorite movies plays. 

“I love you,” you say, needing him to know what you’re thinking right now.

“I love you too,” he replies.He holds you tighter and presses a kiss to the top of your head, and you melt into the embrace. You truly love him, love every side of him, especially the sides that are reserved only for you. His girlfriend, his love, his good girl.

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

AN: Thank you for reading! I have a request for virgin reader & fratboy Niall so I am working on that but if you have any Niall requests feel free to reach out!

[shaunamilfman]

Being Lottie Matthews Controversially Young Girlfriend

Adult Timeline Headcanons

nsfw mention

you and lottie definitely have a meet-cute moment at the farmers market. love at first sight fr she's trying to get you to move in the wellness center within the month. “but y/n if you live in the dorms again you'd be here all the time anyways. Just move in 😁. it's cheaper that way.”

coming home after a long day to see Lottie laying in bed and just burying your face in her cleavage. She's surprised the first time you do it, nearly dropping her book and tries to catch you thinking you've fallen, but she's gotten so used to it now that she doesn't even react. she sets her book down gently on the nightstand and runs her hands soothingly through your hair. 

she has absolutely no shame about dating you despite the large age difference. she's hyping you up to her cult wellness center members talking about how good you're doing in college and shit. “yeah 😁 she really aced that exam she was worried about 😁😁”. she got one of those stickers like “my girlfriend goes to x college”. 

she def packs you lunch and stuff to take with you. lottie can't cook for shit but she can make a mean sandwich. you're like “i only have one class today.” and she's still shoving snacks into your bag lmao. 

im convinced lottie is a bit of a technophobe so she's consulting your ass on everything. you get woken up in the middle of your nap to go turn the wellness center computer off and on again. you spend 20 minutes trying to talk her through sending an email before you give up and type it yourself while she dictates. she looks particularly smug after that one, so you think she may have gotten one over on you. she's so genuine most of the time that you're never quite sure. 

Lottie's a lot older than you but I really don't think she'd have all that much sexual experience given her circumstances. if she had slept with others before you it wouldn't have been that all that many. lottie would definitely be aware that she'd be expected to have more experience and is a little hesitant about telling you that she doesn't. point is I mostly just think she'd be very shy and blushy the first few times you had sex. 

going along with it once when someone assumes you’re her daughter to try to playfully embarrass her. she just shrugs and makes a note in the back of her mind to kiss you in front of them at some point. some poor cult member walks in on you like two fingers deep in your ‘mom’ and is so traumatized by the ordeal. Lottie's all smiles the whole time. she fr giggled a bit when they left she's so devious. 

Lottie mentions movies she liked as a kid and you're off-handedly like “oh I don't think I was alive when that came out.” and she just full on winces. she spirals a bit over it every time she's so dramatic. 

Lottie's constantly trying to initiate sex wearing like beautiful and intricate lingerie all the time while you're wearing whatever random shit you happened to have on like "please warn a girl omg". Lottie's ass is still like 😍😍. she does not care in the slightest what your wearing lmao it's on site.

Lottie wears silk pajamas with like robes and shit to sleep. they've got her initials monogrammed on the pocket and she buys you matching ones in your favorite colors. she wouldn't be upset if you didn't wear them but she always looks so excited when you do. she also has like a ridiculously expensive sheet set on her bed. it's soft as hell though you've got to give her that. all that and your little cotton blanket you bring for when she inevitably steals all of the bigger blanket from you in her sleep. 

Lottie for sure tries to pay for all of your things. you try to pay for them yourself but she always seems to know. she pops out of nowhere with her debit card just as you're checking out like 😁. Lottie's not paying for your things expecting sexual favors out of it but she'd absolutely receive them. dropping to your knees in front of her after she pays for your textbooks??

she has no idea how much things cost. she's def like “how much could a banana cost? $10?”

the reading glasses stay on during sex. she's so embarrassed the first time you see her with them on but gets over it very quickly when you immediately jump her bones. 

Lottie buys you a shit ton of clothes. they're all styles you like, but you can't help but notice they're all heliotrope. you're just like 🙄 whenever she gifts you a new shirt. 

grinning ear to ear whenever you introduce your milf girlfriend to your friends. you're so smug about it that it honestly makes lottie a little shy. she def really likes it though she's just always so blushy when you compliment her in any way.

she calls you so many pet names. it's all honey, baby, sweetie, princess, etc with Lottie. going feral over the idea of lottie calling you love. 

Lottie's so physically clingy. she just loves laying on top of you with her head against your chest so she can hear your heartbeat. she loves when you play with her hair. she chases your hand with her head like a dog if you try to stop lmao.

you'll catch her just staring at you all the time she has no shame

[jeonstellate]

forever by my side

mingyu still honors the love signified by his ring, even after all this time.

๑彡 kim mingyu x gender neutral!reader

๑彡 divorced!au/ex-husband!au, post-break up!au — fluff(?), angst(?)

๑彡 paragraph format — 0.8K words

masterlist

[gif’s full credit belongs solely to its owner]

๑彡 title is taken from zack tabudlo’s by my side (ft. tiara andini).

๑彡 thank you sm for the overwhelming love for my future in your eyes! please accept this as a thank you gift :]

๑彡 this is connected to that fic, a prequel of sorts, but can also be read as a standalone. (i highly recommend reading that, too, though.)

Kim Mingyu is a man of confidence.

He exudes confidence, regardless of what he does. It’s a natural part of his aura — something that he can never control at will.

It comes in handy for his line of work, which often requires him to socialize and impress others. Occasionally, though, it also needs him to give presentations in front of large crowds.

As his audience continues to stare at him, with a mix of glossed eyes and awestruck expressions, Mingyu begins to appreciate his inborn confidence a little bit more.

He’s an extrovert. He does well with crowds. He’s comfortable striking up conversations with complete strangers. He’s talkative and spontaneous and outgoing, amongst other things.

And with his confidence, Mingyu can command a room with ease.

Yet, still, it doesn’t necessarily mean he enjoys public speaking — especially if the crowd he’s addressing is full of college students who are currently everywhere, just not in the classroom.

He can hardly blame them. He has been in their shoes before. He knows what it feels like to listen to professors and guest lecturers drag on when he rather spend his time elsewhere.

"Well then, if you guys thought of more questions later," he began his wrap-up speech, "feel free to email me. Thank you—"

A flurry of moment on his right caught his attention, effectively halting his speech. However, the cause of it is gone by the second he turns.

The only evidence he has that he didn’t hallucinate the entire thing is the murmuring that suddenly engulfs the room. And the small folded piece of paper on his right that seems to appear out of the blue.

Mingyu reaches for the paper and looks around the room. He immediately notices the students’ renewed interest in him. Or perhaps — most likely — they are just interested in how he responses to the note.

He looks down as he opens the paper.

Mister, do you have a significant other?

He chuckles soundlessly. Not because of how off-topic it is from the presentation he just gave, but because it is apparently enough to bring you forth in his mind.

After all, you are his other half. Someone he met and fell in love with within the walls of your college campus. Someone he put great effort to deserve the heart of.

The only one he could see sharing a future with. The only one he went down on one knee for and waited for at the end of the aisle.

The only one he loves with his soul. The only one he respects and cherishes to an unfathomable extent.

Mingyu gives a shy smile to the sea of students before raising his hand, palm facing inward. He lets the gold band around his ring finger shine under the spotlights aimed at him.

Their collective disappointment is loud.

Mingyu finds their reaction amusing. He has watched countless people react to his marital status over the years. Those who appear dismayed, he notes, often try their best to hide it, albeit unsuccessfully. As a matter of fact, this is the first time anyone has ever showed disdain so openly — a whole group, too, no less.

He can’t stop the soundless chuckle that escaped. He has always been proud of his marriage. He boasts about it — and you — every chance that he gets. It’s something that always brings a smile to his face. Something that he never gets tired of.

Even after the divorce.

The end of your marriage had been a mutual decision. You both agreed that it was the best action to take, before anything escalated to something unbecoming. And, at the time, it was the best decision to take.

The end of your marriage didn’t signify the end of his love for you, though. That’s why, even years after the court made your divorce official, his wedding ring stayed on his finger.

Mingyu may have failed to keep you by his side, but he absolutely has no plans to rid himself of the only physical reminder of your marriage.

Mingyu may have lost his rights to claim you as his spouse; but at least in front of strangers, he can still pretend that the gold around his finger is more than a remembrance.

"How are you going to find a replacement for your wedding ring if you keep letting people think you’re still married?" Minghao wonders when he meets up with him after his presentation.

Ironically enough, his longtime friend personifies the reality that his façade only works with strangers. Those who don’t know what happened. Nor can read him like an open book. Nor notice the hint of sadness in his eyes.

Mingyu simply shrugs at that, "Bold of you to assume I want a replacement in the first place."

(After all, his wedding ring isn’t just a conversational piece. It’s also his lifeline . . . something he can’t bear to lose, especially when he already lost you.)

[wondernus]

— CRUSHED!

SYNOPSIS: you don't know what's more embarrassing: crying in front of your brother's best friend or your brother himself.

PAIRING: xmh x reader

GENRE: fluff, light angst

TAGS: older brother's best friend trope, older brother!wjh, an ode to xmh & wjh as the older brother x best friend duo in hidden love, younger sibling!reader, dumb and dumber siblings

WC: 951

MESSAGE FROM NU: I love me a dumb and dumber sibling duo!!! summoning @autumn-lv

xu minghao sits by your side, awkwardly hovering his hand over your head before he decides it's okay to pat it. you feel the way his hand pushes down your hair and touches your scalp without it hurting at all. he does it a few times, his large palm tapping against the top of your head before he brings it backwards to gently stroke the back of your head.

there is a crushing weight of despair that smothers your heart and drags tears from your eyes. you're absolutely defeated by the fact that you didn't make it into the astronomy program that was on the top of your list. and you're absolutely embarrassed by the fact that you broke down on the sidewalk in front of your house, leading to minghao sitting by your side and offering a warm shoulder to cry on while your brother stomps around in front of the two of you, throwing enough profanities into the air to make the elderly neighbor shut their windows. you don't know if you're crying from your broken dreams or from the embarrassment from your brother's hot friend or your brother himself.

junhui grabs a fistful of his hair before letting go. minghao nudges your arms with his elbow and points at your brother with his other hand. your eyes land on the mountain of hair on top of his head, still scrunched by how jun grabbed his hair in an act of annoyance. seeing how silly your brother looks makes you smile a bit before your sadness washes over you.

your brother takes his phone out of his pocket and unlocks the screen. “tell me their names,” he tells you in a rushed manner. “i’ll send them an email.”

“why do you want to send them an email?” you wail. “don’t do that! you’re going to get me blacklisted.”

he looks at you with bewilderment in his eyes and marches over to where you’re sitting to shove his phone in your face. “i’m just trying to find out why you didn’t get into the program. you think sending them an email is going to get you blacklisted?”

“it’s embarrassing,” you moan into the palm of your hands. you can feel minghao attempting to soothe you by rubbing your back. but it only causes a fiery heat to concentrate in your cheeks. you can’t believe you’ve somehow ended up having your unrequited crush try to make you feel better like how you would imagine an older sibling is supposed to do so…your brother is an exception.

junhui squats in front of you with a frown on his face. “what’s wrong with failure? do you think that minghao and I got into every single program we wanted?

minghao’s hand pauses from stroking your back. he slowly retracts his hand to fold neatly in his lap.“I actually did…” he mumbles.

“you’re not helping!” jun directs at his best friend.

“why are you yelling at him?” you yell back at your older brother. you can’t believe he could yell at someone as kind and smart as his best friend.

 “because he’s not helping!” he argues back.

“he’s helped me more than you have. and you’re my brother.”

“all he did was sit there and pat your back while i’ve been manifesting and cursing them on your behalf. what else do you want me to do?” junhui makes an exasperated expression that drives you insanely mad. you want to grab fistfuls of his hair while ripping them out of his scalp.

unwarranted frustration and anger builds inside you. you know your brother is just trying to help, but you can’t help but to direct your feelings towards him. you know better so you will yourself to shut up, but tears well up in your eyes. “I don’t know what I want you to do,” you cry, “you showed up with minghao and then started bothering me instead of going inside.”

“well, sorry for forgetting my keys. I would open the door if my younger sibling let me inside, but I wanted to make you happy so you don’t flood our house with your stupid tears.” 

before you can pull a fist on your brother, minghao steps in by throwing his arms out to separate the two of you. minghao waves for your brother to back off to which your brother has no choice but to acquiesce. 

“okay. you wanted to enroll in the vegetation and topography internship, right? I have a friend getting his graduate degree in environmental science. I don’t know how much it can help you, but I can ask him to tutor you and ask around for more internship opportunities,” minghao offers with his warm voice and a soft smile. 

“no.” junhui shakes his head. “i’m not letting you near a grad student when you’re by yourself. i’ll go with you.”

“why would I go with you?” you huff. “you’re just going to annoy us. then I wouldn’t be able to concentrate. then I wouldn’t be able to get into the next program. it’s going to be your fault.”

“I- that’s not the point I was trying to make. also, who’s the one annoying us right now?”

“how about…” minghao cuts the two of you off, “how about I go with yn? i’ll attend every tutoring session with them so you don’t have to worry.” he turns to you with a sheepish look on his face. “your brother is just worried about you, so don’t be so harsh on him. alright?”

“okay.” you shoot your brother a look before smiling brightly at minghao. the future is slowly looking brighter than you imagined it to be, and it’s all thanks to minghao.

[marleyybluu]

Secret Crush

Oscar x black!fem!reader

Warnings: just fluff, Oscar being a simp, flirting

Word count: 1.7k

He felt like he was visibly shaking. He wouldn't stop bouncing his foot while he sat in the chair. Three bottles of liquor and a shot glass to his left with an empty awaiting chair in front of him. Today was the day he'd finally admit his feelings to his crush and what better way to do it than with some liquid courage, a room full of cameras and in front of thousands of viewers? 

Thanks to his little brother Cesar, he received an email from one of the producers of a YouTube channel called 'Cut' for their popular segment of Truth or Drink. He wasn't for it at first but in the words of his younger sibling it was time for him to "grow a pair." Reminding him he should've smacked him in the head for this. 

It was plain as daylight that he had a crush on her, he hated the feeling though-- the way his heart would almost burst out of his chest when he saw her, the way he would listen attentively when she spoke and how that sweet smooth voice of hers could have him hypnotized all day. He wasn't used to these feelings it almost scared him. 

"Hi. Do you mind telling us your name?" The lady standing next to the camera greeted bringing him down from his thoughts. "Wassup, my name is Spooky." He nodded not giving his government name. 

"And why are you here?" 

He lowly chuckled while shaking his head. "I am here to tell my crush that I like her." 

"Does she have any idea why she’s here today?" 

He shook his head. "She's actually a fan of these videos, but I told her we were doing truth or drink friends." Lowkey hated that he had to lie to her. "Is it okay if we bring her out now? Are you ready?" 

Spooky took a deep breath and nodded as he sat up straight, the same lady had gone to the backrooms to summon her. She came back out with her hot on her heels, Spooky had a small glimmer in his eyes as he smiled at her, she was all bright and cheery as she waved to him. "Hola papito." 

"Hola mamita." He beamed, his brown eyes following her as she sat down. She rested her hands on the table and turned over to the camera. "And who do we have here?"

"I am Y/n." 

"Heard you're a fan of these videos." 

She turned to look at Spooky knowing he was the only one who would binge-watch these with her. "Yeah, it's a bit nerve-wracking to be on the other side."

"So, how do you two know each other?" 

Y/n started to giggle. "His little brother is dating my cousin, so I met him at one of our family functions." 

Spooky's tongue poked the inside of his cheek fighting so hard not to smile as he himself recalled the first time he met her and how she dragged him inside when he claimed he was only dropping off Cesar. He was glad she did it. 

The producer allowed them to take one shot before the questions started, Spooky poured her drink for her and slid it over before pouring his own, they clinked the glasses and threw their heads back to quickly down the burning drink. Y/n's eyes squeezed shut and her head shook as she reached for the glass of juice next to her. She wasn't much of a drinker but if it was being offered she'd take it. 

The cards were laid out faced down in front of them, each person had their own stack. He offered that she go first, she picked up the first card almost nervous to do so since she knew a lot of these questions could take a turn at any time. "What is something about me that you find intriguing?" He watched as she put down the card next to the stack she just took it from. "I don't know if it's weird to say this but you change a lot. Your hair is different every time I see you and I like that, it's cool to see that you can do so much with it. You watch one video and recreate a style perfectly, I like it."

She flashed a smile. "It's not weird to say, thank you I appreciate that. I always feel like they don't turn out good." 

"Nah they turn out amazing, trust me." He said getting ready to pick a card. 

"Do you have a favourite style of hers?" 

He nodded. "I like when it's up and it's got a little puff at the top. Sometimes she'll... make it curly, sometimes she won't. I like it either way." 

 "What are my toxic traits?" He rolled his eyes placing the card down.

Y/n raised her eyebrows. "You are so hard-headed." Spooky kissed his teeth turning his head away from her, she laughed and pointed. "See! You guys have no idea how many times I tell him 'I told you so.' All because you don't want to listen." 

He looked back over to her fighting another grin but that dimple of his gave him away. He gently kicked her under the table and she returned it a bit harder. The producers could already tell the dynamic they most likely have outside of this interview, childish and playful, he was such a serious person when he was sitting in that chair but the minute she came out he was a different person. They had chemistry there was no denying that.

Y/n flipped over her card, reading it in her head first and blushing at the fact that she really had to ask this. "Would you say you're a good kisser?" She was pretty interested in knowing. 

He looked over at the camera and back at her. "I would say I am yeah." 

"Do you use tongue?" The lady in the background instigated. Spooky nervously laughed, his hand went to the back of his neck, he lightly scratched it as he nodded his head.  Y/n bit her lip and shuffled in her seat feeling a sudden heat and tingle building in the pit of her stomach. 

He reached for another question. "Rate my attractiveness on a scale of 1 to 10." That was more of a statement than a question. 

"10." 

Spooky's face fell, not in a bad way but more in a surprised way, he did not expect her to answer so quickly. Y/n shrugged providing an explanation. "Spooky, sweetie, I'm not blind. You are very attractive. I'm not the only girl who thinks so either." A subtle jab at the number of girls she sees flocking to him whenever he has a Santos party or even if he's just merely driving around town. 

She had no reason to be jealous, at least that's what she told herself, but she couldn't help but feel a little disdain towards them. "Hold on, I kind of want to know what you rate me."

Spooky reached over for a bottle and poured some liquor, Y/n's mouth hung open and her heart sank, she could feel her posture slouch in disappointment. He raised the glass to his lips before saying, "20." He winked at her before tipping his head back.

Her frown quickly disappeared. "Pendejo." 

-

They went back and forth until the pile became smaller and smaller. "If we were to have sex, what would you do to me or what would you let me do to you?" 

Spooky was full-on blushing at this point. Y/n shrugged reaching for a drink. "If you're lucky, querido, you could find out." She answered. 

She was teasing him and he was liking it. "We're actually going to have Spooky pick up another card, sorry, we didn't get that shot." The producer lied. 

He inhaled deeply and exhaled enough that it almost sunk his chest in. He picked up another card, staring at it a bit longer than the others, he cleared his throat as he put it down. "Can I just take a shot instead?" 

"Boy, just ask the question, you know you can ask me anything." Y/n reassured. He exhaled once more and just went for it. "I have a crush on you..." 

Her eyes widened slightly and her shoulders relaxed. "No you don't." 

"I do." 

Y/n squinted and reached over to the card that he had just put down wondering whether this was a joke or not. And it wasn't. The card instructed that he confess his feelings. "Oh shit..." 

That wasn't the answer he was looking for, now all of a sudden he was starting to be filled with regret, he knew doing this was stupid. Y/n noticed his demeanour change and quickly responded. "Spooky... I like you too." 

"You do?" 

She nodded eagerly. "A lot. Why do you think I pulled you into the party when we first met? I thought you were so fine, and then we started talking... and then I saw you again and we kept seeing each other outside of Monse and Cesar..." She was rambling, she was rambling nervously. He placed his hand on top of hers, a small gesture to get her to stop before she talked her head off. 

"I'm not gonna lie yo, I was nervous to do this, nervous you wouldn't like me back." 

"Oh papito, what's not to like?" She cooed. 

"So what is the plan now?" 

Spooky looked at Y/n. "Good question. I say I'll take you on our first date tomorrow. If you're cool with that." 

"I am more than cool with that." 

"Come here." Spooky held onto her hand as she stood up from her seat, she pulled down her skirt a bit a made her way over to him comfortably sitting on his lap. His free hand wrapped around her waist. 

"Well, I think we'll end it here. I just want to thank you two for coming on, and I wish you nothing but luck on this, hopefully, new journey." 

Y/n grinned. "Thank you." 

"Thanks." 

As the team took down the equipment they stayed seated together. He placed a hesitant and gentle kiss on her shoulder. "Maybe I should take you on a date now instead." 

She placed her hand on his cheek, pressing a kiss on his nose. "Let's go then." 

If you liked this fic feel free to like this fic, comments and reblogs are appreciated.

peace and love

tags (also tagging those who might be interested):

@skyesthebomb @darqchilddaydreamz @realhotgurlshit

[reo-kisser]

MARRIED LIFE

reo, nagi, chigiri

gn!reader, fluff, hcs

"my love" used once in reo's part. soccer used instead of football.

MIKAGE REO

Life with Reo is oddly peaceful and chaotic all together. There's so much going on, but somehow, there's always some down time for you to spend together- he makes sure of it. While the eyes of the public will never, ever, go away completely, he does all in his power to control where they look (for your safety and comfort, which is also partly his).

Reo is quite the fan of hugs from behind. Even better if you don't notice beforehand, his arms come around your waist as his head rests upon your shoulder. Whenever he sees you, a smile rests upon his expression. Every moment he was away, he missed you, and being able to see you again is his freeing of the cruelties of life. He never fails to give you a kiss, no matter whether it's been 2 minutes or 2 weeks. Just being able to feel you, to have you in his arms (or, perhaps, he in yours) was the antidote to fatigue.

Even though Reo runs towards his dreams, goal in front of him and his eyes locked onto it, he's learned how to take a step back and enjoy a moment of rest- especially with you. As much as he's involved in work, he always tries to put you first, when he's on vacation with you. There will always be calls and emails and unexpected emergencies, but as much as he can, he's there with you. After all, he set away this time for you, not for everyone else who "needs" him.

Let your dreams run wild. If he can, he'll grant it. After all, his motto is "Get everything you want"- and he'll get it for you. You, whom he found meaning in life in, will receive everything you wish for. (If you want it easily, he'll give it to you. If you want it from your own power, he'll let you have that too. After all, he knows all too well the emptiness of no ambition.)

Reo is always a bit "too much"- endearingly so. His words are always just a little bit flowery, a little bit teasing- but it's easy to know he's earnest about it. Whether he calls you, texts you, or is right there by you, it's second nature to him to be full of love for you. He does a lot, but it's because it feels right to him- and it didn't ever take long for him to find what felt right for you too. After all, what's right for you is right for him too.

It is always at the end of the day that Reo is able to finally relax, to move from the constantly moving world into a time of bliss, accompanied by you. This is the time of day he gets to nuzzle his face into your neck, hold you tight, giggle as he whispers a hundred different ways to say "I love you".

You first, always. The first scene that reaches his eyes in a day is you, and he wouldn't have it any other way. Reo is always, always content to be able to feel your breath tickle his skin, as his thumb rubs circles on your cheek. He hopes he doesn't wake you up, but he just can't help it. He feels nothing but love, admiration- and if you're partial to teasing him, now would be the best time.

If possible, he'd love to be next to you when your eyes open to see the world too. He often places a kiss on your forehead, and your ears catch a "Good morning, my love."- whispered, fully for you. At this time, he still feels dreamy, floating on clouds. He giggles from happiness, and he doesn't want to get up. Not yet. The goals won't go anywhere. Nor will you, but he simply just wants to bask in the moment.

Reo adapts quickly. He's aware, he's observant. He knows that the eyes of the public are everywhere, and at this point, he's almost drowned them out- but if you want, he'll keep his ear out, he'll cover you. You're his and his only, and as much as he wants to brag about his wonderful lover, the only who has captured his heart so, your safety and comfort is always at the top of his priorities. No matter what, he wants to bring you happiness, and he'll go through any efforts to do so.

Sometimes, Ba-ya comes over. Now, she knows little Reo has grown into big boy Reo with stable income, independent life, and a wonderful lover, but sometimes, she'll come over to visit, fix up a few things here and there and make something he likes. She enjoys your company too, and even though Reo asks her to leave most of the time, so he can spend that time with you, but he's always grateful that she's fond of you too.

Just because you're married, it doesn't stop him from taking you out on dates. The ring doesn't mean "I'll stop dating you", it means "I'll be together with you forever." Dates on a whim, dates planned, dates you knew were coming, dates you had no idea about. If life was about passion, spending time with you was a big part of it- and that won't ever change.

Sometimes, both you and he didn't know you were going on a date. Sometimes, dates just happen like that, on a whim- not that was ever a bad thing. It isn't always fancy either- maybe he takes you on a stroll through town and you discover things you've never seen before. Maybe something catches your eyes and you decide, on the spot, "let's go there." His hand is always intertwined with yours, as to never lose sight of you.

Reo loves going above and beyond. After all, he dreams big, and he gets what he wants. (Reminder: what you want, he also wants!) If you want, he'll bring you to the fanciest places- Michelin star restaurants, exclusive sights, seven star hotels. He'll plan it perfectly, and the outcome will be perfect. There is nothing he won't do for his beloved.

There isn't a year that Reo doesn't celebrate your anniversary. How could he forget the day you were wed to him? He always is able to take the day off from work to bring you somewhere nice, and every year is nothing short of magical. In fact, if the two of you have time, he'll take a week off and bring you somewhere on vacation, an unforgettable experience.

SEISHIRO NAGI

If there's one way to describe life with Nagi, it would be comfort. There's one truth in life, and that was that Nagi is, and will forever be, in love with you. That is the one, undisputable fact of the universe. Nagi finds comfort in knowing that you love him too, and that's enough for him- of course, there are things he wants, but he's okay just knowing that you're in love with him too.

Nagi never wants to get out of bed- especially in the mornings. Even if he has soccer to practice, it doesn't hurt to stay in a little bit longer, right? He clings to you, just a little. He doesn't want to move; to him, time's almost stopped, as it's not a time of reality but rather a time of bliss for him.

Somehow, you've found yourself with an increasing amount of plants in the house. First, choki was already there. Then, there was another. And another. And until the windows were filled with plants, it was hard to notice just how quickly the plants seemed to multiply. Just one more, that one would be cute, let get that one- they added up, not that Nagi ever minded. It was somewhat like a family- maybe you and Nagi had become plant parents.

Nagi could be with you forever. And that's why he made that promise, but there's rarely ever a moment he doesn't want to be with you. Even if he's playing soccer, he's just as happy just being with you, no matter what he's doing with you.

Even if practice is intense, Nagi always makes sure to come home on time. There are priorities, and while soccer is important, being at home with you is more important. He needs his daily dose of you, and whenever asked, his answer would be, "I can't play soccer unless I go home tonight."

On break days, he's home all day. His mere existence is a constant reminder of "hey, I'm here". His hands might be playing games, but his head rests on you, snuggled against your body. He needs you, he needs to feel you. He feels his ego when he plays soccer, but with you, he feels at peace.

Nagi isn't one to go all out and extra, but on important days, (like your anniverary) he'll do anything you want to do. He always takes the day off, no matter what. (His motivation magically disappears, oddly. He has one priority on those days, and that's spending time with you)

In terms of house chores, Nagi doesn't mind doing it, but he isn't insistent on doing it either. He's rather familiar, especially because he's lived alone for a long time. He'll do whatever you don't want to do, so you have full reigns. Though, if he finds that you're doing too much, he won't think twice before doing some of that himself.

Despite him not having said much at all about being married to you, everyone, even people he had recently met, know he's married to you. Not just because he was famous (and by extention, so were you) but also because no one can deny the absolute affection he shows. It was simply so clear that he was in love with you, not just from his eyes but also the way he sought to simply be by your side.

In the moments that you're alone with him, Nagi always buries his head into your shoulder. It's almost like his resting place, with his arms around you and mumbles escape his lips. His eyes close too, but he doesn't always fall asleep- that wasn't the plan. After all, in what other position could he so easily reach your lips- your cheek and neck too, even your hands?

CHIGIRI HYOMA

It's oddly stable- living with, married to Chigiri Hyoma. Even if he could run the fastest, he kept pace with you, always- your hand intertwined with his. After all, he'd stay wherever you go. It was the sense of consistency, a constant peace that was surprisingly difficult to break.

It was assuringly routine - get up, get ready, eat breakfast, go to work, come home, eat dinner, relax, and fall asleep. Although quite standard, and for some, mundane, it was also special. After all, Hyoma was there, too. There was nothing like hearing his voice at any time of day, intertwining your hand with his, sharing a quick kiss- there was nothing at all comparable to that.

Hyoma has a habit of kissing your wedding ring. It's especially often when he won't see you for a bit, but there really is never a day where there isn't at least one kiss. It's always as calm as ever, but if you look closely, you can see the smile on his lips. His lips are soft- they always are- and it's so easy to feel it as his lips brush your fingers.

You can always sit by him while he does his hair care routine. He'll save a spot for you, scoot over a little when you come to sit. He didn't mind at all; actually, he'd been waiting for you. Even if you simply sit there with him, doing your own thing, or talk to him about anything, he enjoys this time with you, no matter how you spend it with him. It's less lonely; from a time of being alone, which isn't a bad thing in itself, it's more often that he finds himself comforted by the fact that you're there with him. Just that makes it better.

He always lets you know when he's going out of the house. It's like a greeting, always a little "I'm going out to practice" or "I have to get to work", and if possible, he'll leave a little kiss on your forehead and a little smile, especially when you give him a little kiss back. He'll be thinking about you all day, until he can see you again.

Nightly routines are commonplace with Hyoma. He has his self care routine to make sure he's in top shape to play soccer, and he loves doing that together with you- even if yours isn't the same as his. It adds another element to his routine, that it's not just a thing for himself but also time to spend with you.

[the1975attheirverybest]

A/N: I know we had our debate about sub vs dom Matty. Not sure what this is but enjoy and let me know what you think!

Summary: Matty being needy.

Warnings: smut.

——

Matty stood in the doorway, his laptop under his arm, watching as she sat in the office chair and frowned at her screen. He didn’t want to interrupt her, but he also couldn’t shake off this clingy feeling. He sighed loudly to alert her to his presents.

Her head shot up. “Oh, hey, you…” her face softened as she saw him.

Matty slouched. “Umm…are you….workin’?” He spoke hesitantly.

“Mhm. Why, what’s up?”

She could see the gears turning in his head, he was clearly holding something back. Trying not to say something. “Matty, everything alright?” she urged him on.

“Oh, yeah, yeah. ‘M fine. Just- umm…” he looked away, silently embarrassed. “Could I- join you?”

The home office was definitely a shared space. But it was mostly Matty’s by convenience. Her job didn’t require nearly as much equipment, or even remote work. So, he was the one to use it most of the time. She only utilized the desk space whenever she had to bring work home with her. Which wasn’t very often. But this month has been a busy one at her job. With Matty being on a short break before the next leg of tour, she’d tried to spend as much time with him as possible, occasionally falling behind on work and needing to make it up. The disruption to her routine aside, this was the hardest part about their relationship. The distance and time apart always made he feel guilty. Neither of them really talked about it much because there was nothing they could do to change it. But the pressure she always put on herself to make every moment in his company count, and the inevitable heartbreak that lingered around after he’d leave to go on the road again, none of it got any easier no matter how much they’d done it before.

She was certain Matty felt it too. He always got extra needy and soft. Especially the last few days leading up to his impending leave. It was like a timer was always on. Ticking away. Waiting to call an end on their moments together. He’d hardly left her side the last couple of days. So, it wasn’t exactly a surprise that he was hovering around now.

“Of course!” She moved her notepad and papers around to make room for him. “Grab a chair.”

“I-I promise I won’t disturb you. Mostly just admin stuff and emails for the label. And I’ve got my trusty headphones, if I need to play anything…” he wanted her to know he respected her work and her space.

“Matty. You’re not disturbing me. C’mon!” She smiled at him reassuringly as he scrambled to get his stuff together and sit by her side. He made a mental note to buy a bigger desk the next time he’s home because this was definitely getting snug.

They passed an excruciating hour working on their respective devices. Matty had exercised all of his self-restraint to keep from just grabbing her and kissing her all over, reminding himself that they both had work to be done. And even if he could put off his own responsibilities, it’d be unfair to expect her to do the same. What he couldn’t control, however, was his head going all foggy and mushy as he sat next to her. Their elbows occasionally brushing, the scent of her perfume, the cute look she gets when she’s focusing really hard on something, the way her hair fell in her eyes as she leaned forward. Gosh, he’d much rather be sharing a bed right now.

She’d definitely felt him sighing, staring longingly. Sneaking glances at her when he thought she wasn’t looking. It wasn’t easy for her either. Writing delicately worded emails was definitely not what she wanted to spend this evening doing. Not with Matty right there. Looking the way he does with his comfy clothes on and his untamed curls. And his eyes. God, his eyes.

He leaned back into his chair, shutting his laptop and fiddling with the cuff of his sleeve anxiously.

“You done?” She turned to look at him.

He nodded. “You?”

“Almost. Got a couple more memos finish.”

He said nothing, simply looking down at his hands as he tugged on his hoodie and tried to ignore the butterflies in his stomach.

“Wanna get started on dinner?” She suggested.

He simply shrugged, keeping his gaze down.

“What?” She chuckled, confused by his current state.

“Not tha’ hungry. Plus- umm- I’d rather be here. With you.” He couldn’t help the red flush in his cheeks, but at least he held back from letting her know about the warm and tingly feeling all over his body. Where he wants her hands. Her lips. Her whole body pressed against his.

“I think….” She checked the time from the corner of her screen “one more hour?”

He wanted to say an hour was too long. He’s bursting at the seams. He needs her right now. He thinks he’ll die if he doesn’t have her full attention right away. “Sure. That’s okay. Take your time. “ was what he mumbled instead.

***

Matty tried to distract himself. He went on his phone for a bit, scrolling through social media, busying himself with mindless activities to keep from nagging her. But he couldn’t help checking the time every few minutes, counting down the seconds, and in spite himself, he stole a look every once in a while, studying her face for any signs of relief. Giggling shyly when she’d catch him looking at her.

“Alright!” She announced triumphantly. “All done.”

The words were hardly out of her mouth before Matty jumped into her lap, burying her face into her neck and whining.

She chuckled at his impatience, sinking back into her chair and running her fingers through his hair. “What’s gotten into you today?” Her voice tickled his ear.

“Jus’ miss you.”

“Miss me? We’ve literally been together all day.”

He shrugged and kissed her neck. “Still miss you.”

“Someone’s feelin’ needy…”

He nodded enthusiastically, his curls tickling her skin as he moved.

“Want me to take care of you, baby?”

“Mhm. Please?”

She took a moment to think about it, deciding that they’d probably have no time for cooking, she reached around his body to grab her phone from the desk. “Alright, just let me order dinner first.”

***

“M-more, please. Please, baby.” Matty whimpered, his face buried into the mattress. He was too far gone to even know what he was asking for. All he knew is that he wanted more. More of her touch, more of her voice, more pleasure, more pain…more everything.

She chuckled, shaking her head and whispering “greedy” under her breath. Not that he’d heard her.

“N-no, no, wait- please” he whined, pulling his head up to look at her.

“What is it? Did I hurt-“

“No, I’m okay. I- just, umm. Don’t wanna cum too quickly.” He confessed.

“But you said-“

“Wanna keep going. Wanna be with you.”

She frowned and he felt a slight panic at her confusion. Was he being too much? Is he bugging her? Was she over it by now? Did she just wanna be done?

She pulled away for a moment, assessing his sweaty, naked body. They’d been at it for a while. She’d reduce him to a blubbering mess. She could’ve sworn he would’ve wanted to stop soon. “You are with me, babe. You sure you’re alright?”

Matty blushed, feeling silly for being so demanding. But he couldn’t help it. He was intoxicated by her. Completely insatiable. He wasn’t thinking. He nodded. “Promise, I’m fine.”

She moved his supple body so he was laying flat on his back, with her own body hovering on top of him. She pushed the sweaty hair off his eyes, leaning in to kiss him, and laughing when she felt his cock twitch between them. He was definitely ready.

“You’re gonna cum for me now, alright?” Her hand wrapped around him, and he hissed, the sensation intense on his sensitive body.

“You- want me to?”

“Yup”

“O-okay…”

She didn’t have to wait at all, a few motions and he was already dripping.

“Cum for me, baby.”

Matty let go instantly, his hips bucking up, his head straining against the mattress as he trembled at her touch and whispered a string of curses and incoherent pleas. “F-fuck, that- feels so good.”

She peppered gentle kisses all over his face and neck, rubbing his body as he caught his breath.

“Shall we wash up and get ready for dinner?”

Matty’s hand reached for her arm when she went to get up. “Wait! Cuddles first.”

[sassylegshayne]

marry me, idiot. chapter two

SURPRISE UPDATE!! I wasn't planning on posting chapter two yet but I'm just so excited that you guys are enjoying this piece so much!! I'm honestly having so much fun writing it!! chapter two is 3.5K words! lmk what y'all think!! xx mwah

series masterlist

"what's your ring size"

The text from Erin, the executive assistant, lit up your screen just past midnight.

You quickly responded, noting that it may have been a bit urgent if she texted you about it. You made sure to question her, your curiosity got the best of you.

"I have to buy you a ring before tomorrow Imfao, need a ring for the shoot"

The what? Spencer had failed to mention exactly what changed in his schedule, prompting you to quickly check your own.

"Spencer," You chastised him as you shut off the television, the episode of Friends almost over, causing a groan in frustration from him. "You didn't tell me we have a fucking shoot tomorrow!"

You huffed, your brows furrowed. Spencer couldn't hide the turn of his lips, his smile cracking through.

"Calm down, honey, it'll be fine." He put emphasis on the pet name, his voice just a bit lower than normal. Your eyes widened, surprised at every part of it, even more so as he placed a hand on your bare thigh.

"You okay?" He quipped, reaching across your lap for the remote, turning the show back on. Spencer gave your thigh a soft squeeze, enjoying this intimacy with you and the confusion that was written on your face.

"Did you lose your mind, Spence?" You felt like omething was short circuiting or misfiring in your mind because this isn't your Spencer. Your Spencer is nervous, fumbles with his words, making the most out of pocket comments in any situation, he doesn't do wel| with physical affection.

This Spencer was touching you, on purpose. He seemed so calm, do relaxed that it was managing to put you on edge.

"What? What're you talking about, dude?" Spence furrowed his brow, shaking his head lightly. "You're gonna be my wife in like a year, we can't start fighting the day we get engaged, it's a terrible look."

"The shoot tomorrow is gonna be chill, I was texting lan about it. Everyone at work is gonna know that it's fake so we'll be okay. He said that we're gonna stick to poses he seemed 'subtly romantic, whatever the fuck that's supposed to mean." Spencer was nonchalant, waving his hands around a bit as he spoke.

You nodded slowly, brows furrowed.

"Okay, yeah, that's fine. But what does that mean? Are they gonna make us be all cute and cuddly?" You sighed, nerves evident.

"Aren't we already?"

You would find out the following morning after the two of you arrived early to the building, clocks just shy of 7AM.

You rubbed your eyes, yawning as you entered wardrobe together, quickly being pulled in opposite directions to get ready. Spencer found his mind wandering to you as he went through the motions, curious about how it looked for you, what your time was entailing. You two finally met again at the front of the office, where you're greeted with a small group. Kiana, Spencer, and Brennan chatting as they awaited you.

You couldn't help but take in the simple outfit Spencer wore, it suited him well. He had a short sleeve, olive green button-up on, paired with dark khakis. It fit him so well that you knew Ki had picked it.

Spencer was glad to be ushered out of the building, finding himself speechless as soon as his eyes landed on you. You had on a tea length, light green dress. It had soft layers, accenting everything about you so beautifully; swaying with you as you walk.

Kianna had been saving the dress to gift to you, but as soon as she read the email, disregarding whether or not it was a joke, her heart called for it. She had the vision in her mind in an instant.

She's always known about the feelings you and Spencer had for each other, but couldn't bring herself to spill your guys' secrets. So she adapted early on, deciding to constantly poke at the two of you, dubbing you two work spouses.

Somewhere in the years since it started, as your feelings grew for each other, and Kiana heard everything from both of you, all she wanted was for the two of you to get together. She was so beyond excited with the stupid situation you'd put yourselves in.

Brennan drove the three of you out, both Spencer and you surprised to find that this was going to be a location shoot.

Kiana explained the ideas to you, talking about the field she had found that she thought was adorable. She went over some of the photo ideas, showing the two of you some references. She grinned as she spoke, evidently excited.

"Kiana, please take a deep breath, you're making me anxious." You laughed a bit, brows furrowed as she rolled her eyes. "I'm just excited, it's gonna be so cute and I'm excited to see y'all all cuddled up together."

She cackled a bit, turning around to grin at the two of you as Brennan tried to stifle his laughter.

With all the effort Kiana had already put into this, you could only imagine the delight she's taking in this.

Once you arrived, you stretched, yawning as Spencer approached you, tangling his fingers with yours, giving your hand a gentle squeeze. You smiled brightly up at him, turning after a camera shutter sounds off. You find Kiana behind the lens.

On instinct you raise your free middle finger at her, used to this treatment already. Spencer copied you, his mind on the exact same page as yours.

Another shutter as Brennan and her laugh, Kiana giving a thumbs up as you and a Spencer hold in laughter.

"You guys nailed it, that's the perfect vibe for the shoot. Go get lost in the field while we set shit up." She waves you off, popping the trunk of Brennan's car.

Spencer hums the theme for Animal Crossing as you wander, laughing softly.

"This is chill, right? Like, Ki didn't pick out terrible stuff for us to do like, pose wise." Spencer shrugged as the two of you came to a stop. You stood, squinting as you faced him, the sun shining brightly now.

"I'm cool with everything, but can we agree to say something if we're not cool with it?" You held up your hand, your pinky finger extended to him.

Spencer scoffed, linking his finger with yours and shaking.

"Hell yeah, dude," He laughed as he kept shaking your intertwined hands. "Consent is key."

You doubled over in laughter, clutching your stomach as you shook your head. Spence rested his hand on your shoulder after a few moments, trying to calm you down.

"You really are The Chosen, Shayne was so spot on." Spencer rolled his eyes, pulling you into a hug. You rested your head on his chest, your arms wrapped around his waist.

You smiled as you finally caught sight of Kiana and Brennan positioned in front of you two. They were far enough away to be out of earshot, done purposefully by Kiana's call, but close enough for Brennan to work his magic.

Everyone of you had a very busy day ahead, so this would be a quiet time for each of you to enjoy.

You lifted your head, pulling Spencer's attention as he followed your gaze, laughing softly.

"You think they've been there a while, babe?" He asked, his tone shifting in the same way it did yesterday. He pressed a kiss to your forehead, squeezing you softly as you smiled at the camera.

You shifted a bit, chewing your lip as you tried to pretend that his tone and names didn't have an effect on you.

"They definitely have, I think Ki's gonna cry soon." You stated, turning to smile at Spencer, your heart melting as your eyes met. You played the moment up as he chuckled, knowing you were right, you cupped his cheek softly. Spencer followed your lead, resting one hand on your waist as his other rested atop your hand on his face.

"Oh shit," Spencer jumped a bit, Kiana's gasp heard as loud as could be as you two separate. He dug in his pocket for a second before grinning. "You need this."

He held his hand out, presenting your ring to you. It had completely slipped your mind, the conversation with Erin felt like it happened days ago.

It was a simple ring, but it was perfect. The silver band held a single faux diamond.

"Erin said it's stainless steel and cubic zirconia, you can wear it as much or as little as you want to, I think." Spencer spoke as you laughed, holding up your right hand, giving him the chance to slip on the ring for the first time.

The both of you could feel an intimacy in this moment, a shift in the air.

"Wrong hand!! Wrong hand, no!" Screams pulled your attention from the moment as Ki and Brennan frantically yell at you two, waving their hands around wildly. You two laugh as you lift up your left hand now. The tension you both felt in the moment had dissipated quickly, Spencer making no show of putting it on now.

You fiddle with it for a second before flicking your ring finger to the pair that had interrupted your bubble. Spencer laughs as the camera shutters again.

You liked to imagine that everytime your heart fluttered was when Brennan shot, because you hadn't noticed the sound again until now, so lost in your time with your best friend. He breaks you from your thoughts as Spencer grabs your waist, bracing your back with his other arm as he spins you away from the camera. He dips you as your mixed laughters fill the air around you once again.

The two of you spend a bit longer together, Kiana yelling instructions for how to pose before calling you in closer. The closer shots were very full of natural smiles and laughter, as your small group continued to crack each other up.

You soon wrapped, finally checking your phone, finding it just past ten in the morning. Your stomach growled as you all piled into the car again, agreeing to hit a drive thru.

"I'm honestly really upset with the two of you." Brennan spoke solemnly as Spencer and you slummed into the backseat, out of his eyesight in the rearview.

"I'm gonna be editing all day because there were too many good shots. I'm gonna have to stare at you two all day long."

You arrived back to the office, Erin's schedule, the one she rushed to add to your calendars this morning as you both changed, directed you towards the Pit stage.

Kiana was quick to push you two back to wardrobe, claiming that you couldn't wear your same outfits, it would out everything.

You slipped your jeans back on, and opted for a black pizza place shirt you kept at your desk. You greeted Spencer back at the stage, finding him in the same pants, now with his navy blue shirt from this morning.

Two identical yellow stools sat centerstage, a table placed in front of it. The lighting seemed more dim than usual, and maybe a more warm toned, too.

Eventually the pair of you were situated at the table, being told over and over again to scoot closer as they check the framing for the cameras.

"Okay!" Kiana clapped loudly as Spencer adjusted himself on the stool, looking to you with furrowed brows. You two were used to being close and touching, but it felt weird on camera.

You both decided to keep the physical affection to a bare minimum on screen, not wanting the internet to run too far with their ideas. It didn't mean the two of you were great at remembering that, but for the most part, this was the closest you two had been durning filming.

The weight setting in as you realize this would also be the first video with just you two, and it was a big joke.

You giggled a bit, earning a glare from Ki that silences you quickly.

"We're gonna do our announcement video. wanted to wait until you guys were more comfortable with faking a relationship, but we need this in case it leaks or anyone posts anything about it." She grinned, nodding. The both of you nodded along, Spencer rubbing his palms on his pants nervously.

He felt like he wanted to scream at the top of his lungs until his voice gave out. There wasn't a project Smosh had presented to a Spence that scared him, but he was a bundle of nervousness and terror right now. He was so scared by how natural all of this came to the both of you, granted, it had only been the one photoshoot. Still, the ring on your finger that you continued to fidget with weighed so heavily on his heart; he wanted so badly for it to be real.

"Spence? You good?" You ask, smiling softly as you glance at him, taking his right hand in your left, squeezing it gently. He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath as he felt the cold metal of the ring press into his skin.

"Yeah, let's do this shit." He nodded, squinting his eyes as he smouldered at the camera, causing you to chuckle.

"Okay, let's do an intro, just introduce yourself and your roles, then you guys can take any explaining you'd like to do from there." Kiana grinned, giving you guys two thumbs up as she stood offstage.

You tooka deep breath, giving Spencera small hug before settling back in place, smiling brightly.

"Hey guys," You grin, waving at the camera.

"The editors are taking over the channel, Shayne and Courtney are no more." Spencer grinned, laughing softly. You rolled your eyes at him as Shayne's laugh is heard off camera.

"If you don't know who we are by now, this is Spencer." you gesture to the man beside you as he waves at the camera. "He's an editor here, and my best friend."

"Thank you, thank you. My college here with me today is Y/N." He began, grinning softly as he watched you pose, resting your head on your hands. "She's also an editor here, she's my best friend, and she's my fiance.'

He swiveled back to the camera, grinning brightly as you squealed, holding your left hand out proudly to the fans. A bright blush was apparent across your cheeks and Spencer's.

"So yeah, that's what this whole video is about today, which is probably a big shock to you guys, so we'd like to explain a little bit." You smiled brightly, grabbing Spencer's hand from his thigh to intertwine your fingers.

"Ki, how long have we been together? Cut this part, also, just, yanno.." Spencer trailed, waving his other hand around as he squinted, looking for Kiana.

"I'd say no less than two or three years." She shrugged, a few people mumbling in agreement.

"Four?" You shrugged, as Spencer mirrored your movement squeezing your hand.

"Cool, all good now, carry on." He laughed, as you shook your head, smiling at him as he began to get back on track.

"We've actually been dating for a little over four years now" He chuckled, chewing his lip glanced over at you. "We kinda just kept it to ourselves for a while, unintentionally. Like, we already posted about each other and cuddled and did super couple-ly shit, so the title change wasn't a big deal."

You couldn't stop yourself from staring at Spencer as he spoke, sounding so sincere and genuine that it tugged at your heart strings.

"We did also talk about keeping it from you guys, which wasn't easy, but we liked having the privacy of our relationship; it was fun to think that no one but us knew about us." You turned a bit, bumping your knees with his as Spencer stared down at his lap, grinning. This felt unreal. He couldn't believe this was something you two were in for together.

"We didn't intentionally keep it from everyone at Smosh, though!" You were quick to defend yourselves, eyes wide.

"That was an accident, but they found out when we moved in together, like, two years ago, so it's all cool now!" You grinned, winking at you gave the camera a thumbs up, Spence unable to contain his laughter beside you.

"It was just because we weren't quite prepared for how everyone on the internet would react, more so me than Spencer." You chuckled as he raised his brows, shrugging.

"Now I'm excited as fuck!" You grinned, bouncing in your seat a bit as Spencer laughed again.

He huffed, rolling his eyes as he pouted.

"C'mon, we're gonna have to edit that." He spoke low, causing you to fall into a fit of laughter, which spurred Spencer into a fit of his own. You two continued laughing for a bit, wiping tears when you calmed down, mindlessly creating more work for yourselves, again.

"We figured since we were gonna tell you guys about it, or since the internet figures everything out, why not make it more interesting? Plenty of people around Smosh have gotten married, sure." He scoffed, waving his hand as he spoke, feigning seriousness. You couldn't contain your giggles as Spencer spoke, nodding along with everything he said.

"Not once in those weddings were both of the parties Smosh employees, let alone two that were shipped online already!" He exclaimed, wrapping his arm around your shoulders, tugging you into his side for a warm hug.

You wrapped your arms around his waist as you grinned at the camera, resting your head on his shoulder.

"What all of that means is that this wedding is a pretty big deal for everyone here at Smosh. Especially with so many of our close friends being our coworkers." You spoke, gesturing to the people behind the cameras. A small cheer rang out from a few people in the crew, causing the both of you to smile.

"Soon, we will be uploading wedding themed Smosh videos!" You squealed, jumping a bit as you squeezed Spencer before you sat back onto your stool.

"We're not gonna do like, wedding videos, but themed ones, kinda like how the Smosh Games series worked. That means you're gonna get to see our usual content, just with a wedding twist. We have a Wedding Party Try Not to Laugh planned, right, Ki?" Spencer grinned, feeling the excitement bubbling in his chest the more he spoke.

Kiana called out an excited 'yes', her thumbs up again as some cheers erupted from the crew. Spoiling an upcoming video was not a concern for her at the moment as she watched her two best friends fall more in love with each other.

Ki was thankful that the lights were still bright enough to keep her from your sights as she stood, teary-eyed, her hands clutched at her chest.

"I think we have some video games, maybe a couple of our other original series too!" You grinned, nodding as you looked to Spencer, finding him already looking at you.

You two were pulled away as Kiana called for an outro. You were quick to start the end card part, glad to have an excuse to stop yourself from staring into Spencer's blue eyes.

The two of you quickly took off your mics before heading in opposite directions for lunch. You brought up the idea this morning on your way in together.

You were worried that Spencer would get tired of seeing you so much, especially with everything happening this quickly.

He was quick to insist that your assumption was false, claiming he'd spend forever with you, winking. Spencer was allowed to make these jokes now, you two were literally, well, more technically engaged. Still counts.

It was almost ironic when you enter your office to find Spencer eating at his desk.

You had initially headed in the opposite direction to find Patrick, needing to talk to him about a scene in a new skit.

You couldn't seem to figure out how exactly he wanted to timeline to run in the video, so it was fairly important.

After no luck with your search for the writer, you headed back towards your office, settling on ordering delivery.

You sat in your chair beside him, laughing softly.

"I thought you didn't wanna spend time with me on your lunch break." He chuckled as he wiped his mouth, setting down a container in front of you.

Spencer knew you well enough to order your food for you, expecting to find you seated beside him eventually. You like to make lunch plans with others early, you didn't often eat by yourself. You'd turn up at your desk after not making plans. He cared about you so much, fuck.

You couldn't help the blush the appeared on your cheeks every single time that Spencer did this, no matter how often it was.

He'd come in after you most mornings, greeting you with a kiss on the forehead as he places a coffee on your desk before sitting at his own. He'd check the time before you did, mindlessly ordering lunch for the two of you as you got lost in your work. You had a habit of accidentally working your way through your break, unless Spencer set a box in front of you, unaccepting of any money you tried to give him.

It was the little things that made you fall in love with you best friend. Love wasn't a word you used to describe your feelings to Kiana, scared you'd have to watch her explode, but you knew you were in love with Spencer.

You love him, romantically, and he loves you, platonically. That's fine.

"Spencer, I love spending time with you," You huffed, pouting softly as you popped open the box, finding your go-to order inside.

You hold your left hand up between the two of you. "I'm literally, technically about to spend forever with you, dude."

He laughed, flicking you off as he placed his headphones on, choosing to squeeze in some editing on his lunch break in-between your shoots.

In reality, Spencer didn't think he could spend his break talking to you like everything was normal. He still wanted to scream, maybe until he passed out now.

You scrolled on your phone, occasionally nudging the man beside you to show him something, Spencer huffing a breath of air out of his nose each time.

When you stood, Spencer was quick to pull off his headphones, rubbing his eyes a bit.

"Call time, big boy." You chuckled, reaching your hand down to rub his shoulder softly before you made your way towards the Pit set, again.

Spencer followed behind you, brows furrowed when his eyes landed on a certain someone standing on the stage. He subconsciously knew you had stopped to stare in confusion too.

[thisisnotkitty]

hello securitywaiter nation have you thought about ness being abby’s teacher bc I HAVE

below the cut because i can't shut up ever :D

-abby does well enough in school academically but is still needs some work in the socioemotional dept

-when she starts a new school year mike is a bit worried but then she comes back home absolutely ecstatic and mike is like “okay this is good”

-she talks all about how mr. ness lets her color while he teaches and how mr. ness gave them all name tags w silly drawings (hers is a bear) etc etc

-mike is actually really happy bc most teachers have a hard time understanding abby (heck, he has a hard time understanding her) so he’s looking forward to meeting this mr. ness during back to school night

-it goes on like this for awhile, with abby raving about mr. ness and mike is just happy that his little sister seems to be doing better in school. the first time she comes home talking about these kids she hung out with at recess he practically cries

-back to school night is here and the first time mike sees this mr. ness he’s like abby u traitor you didnt tell me this man was exactly my type (he doesn’t actually tell her bc he never brings up his lovelife around her - not that he’s had much of one - but still isn’t this the type of things siblings know intrinsically)

-anyways they’re having the kids show their guardians around the classroom and their seats and everything and then mr. ness is explaining the way his class works and mike is totally paying attention. yup. he’s not distracted by those chocolate brown eyes at ALL

-so they’re waiting to do the one-on-ones with the teacher and mike crouches down next to abby and tries to be all chill “hey, abs. has mr. ness ever mentioned a partner or anything?” acting all nonchalant

-but abby sees right through him and is immediately like “he’s single! do u want me to put in good word for you?” and mikes like “NO i have no idea what ur talking about haha i just wanted to know bc it’s important to know that about ur teachers okay wait why are you smiling like that”

-(abby’s a little menace and already ships it)

-when it’s finally their turn mike is just chanting to himself “be normal. be normal. be normal” lmao

-but now that he’s sitting face to face with the teacher he notices that he has freckles and every chance he had at playing it cool goes out the window

-ness is telling him all about how well abby is doing in class and if there was anything he could do to make it easier for her in the classroom and abby’s just sitting there looking at mike internally screaming with a smile

-so she turns to her teacher and is like “you should get mike’s number just in case something comes up. he’ll probably think of some things later since he’s been taking care of me alone for awhile��� (bc u know when kids do that things where they kinda trauma dump at the most random moments lmao)

-and ness at first refuses and is like “im sure email works just fine!” and abby’s like WHYY is he not just taking the bait and then she has like a lightbulb moment

-bc ness probably assumes like everyone else that mike is a single father and abby’s his daughter and abby’s like oh no how do i make this work

-so she goes full anya mode (for my spy x family watchers) and is like “im sure mike would appreciate having your number on hand! he’s a very protective older brother you see. taking care of his little sister must be hard. i’m sure being a big brother like him is hard so it’d be for his peace of mind. did i mention he’s my older brother”

-and ness also has a little bit of a crush already forming so he doesn’t catch the obvious set up and is instead distracted by the fact that the handsome guy in front of him is in fact NOT a single father so maybe he does have a chance wowow

-yup so they exchange numbers andddddd ill come back to this later i really need coffee

[richeeduvie]

can you pls write something about roman seeing baby jr as a newborn in the affair!au

Roman's fucking terrified. His kid isn't his kid and she came out too fucking early. He can't see her - he wants to rip his teeth and push dirt into his gums. Maybe then he'd feel better.

"Roman, you have to stop calling for now-"

"I'm coming. I love you. Don't be a fucking Mommy Bitch. Bye."

He hangs up, rolling his neck. He watches an old video of him and Baby, then emails something to Mencken's team. He sits with knees apart during the car.

Roman's come before, the first time seeing his daughter perfect in how scared and pissy in her being too tiny and needing fucking tubes to breathe.

He chokes and rolls the windows down. She's got his nose, she's okay to be picked up now - but every time he's forced to go home because he's not grey-haired Daddy...he can't sleep. He's getting twitchy and Shiv was pretty sure he was speaking Chinese at one point. She can't die without him there - that's a fucking insane thought, what the fuck? Why did that pop in?

But Roman's sure she'd get fat and not nicu-esque with him there.

"Where's my kid?"

"Roman. You can't just greet a room like tha-"

"Why isn't she here?"

She doesn't have to be in the nicu anymore, he came here to hold her. Where is she?

"They took her for some tests-"

He puts a hand on his hip, another raising up.

"Why? Fucking - why aren't you there? Why does she need fucking tests? You didn't call me?"

"They're routine tests. She's alright. They'll be bringing her back soon."

Roman gets shifty with his head movements and pinches his nose before letting go. Fine. Whatever. He should tell Dad they've been sharing vagina just to punish Baby.

"Roman, come here."

Roman listens, because it's her. Fine. Whatever. He comes into the hospital bed at her side, it's almost a hard landing.

"How was Dad today?"

"He's coming to visit later."

Roman's pretty sure he's gonna be better at this than Logan, that and the vagina holding. He peeks at the tiles.

"I deserve a blowie right now, unzip. You're probably lying to soothe me, so I'm betting we have some time before they bring the kid back he-"

There's a rolling of wheels and a smiling nurse - their daughter in that fucking glass cage. It makes Roman stand immediately, sick at the instant sight of her like that.

"She's all done and perfect. An a-student already, I'll just transfer her to the other crib-"

"Give her to me."

The nurse's face goes still. They blink an up and down at Roman.

"Are you a relati-"

"You hand babies over to the relevant people who ask. Scrubs don't equate to entitlement, Roberta. Give her to me."

Baby closes her eyes. The nurse sighs and takes his daughter, a bit chubbier - not enough, out of the crib and into his arms. They leave and Roman takes her in.

Fuck.

"She's doing good in weight, I know I've been updating, but you can feel it with every cuddle. Right?"

Roman doesn't say anything with her head to his nose. He doesn't smell that baby smell that's too specific. It's weird, but perfect. Baby watches him and guilt is on her skin, but she won't tell him that - not until he'll want to hurt her for doing to him. He will, even if it's not Roman-like to throw guilt at her.

A daughter so perfect will make anybody do anything.

"...I'm staying here tonight."

"Roma-"

"Dad's not gonna fucking visit. He's a great sort a Dad...I would know, I'm not gonna complain - but she didn't die, so he's not gonna make the daily check-up a priority. I'm staying here tonight. Don't fucking deny me."

Panic eats at his stomach. Roman fucking hates it, he doesn't get it and he wants to fist everything he doesn't get because he's thinking of his baby getting skinny and freaky-looking like sick babies do. That she's gonna die and he won't be there. Roman doesn't know why he's thinking of this, but it's hurting him.

"Please."

He feels pathetic in the begging, but he has to stay here so she can follow his breathing. He's been reading up on how babies learn and it's always very mimicky.

"...They'll wonder why you're setting a cot up here when you're her brother-"

"Shut the fuck up."

Roman murmurs it against his tiny, tiny baby's head. She's the most perfect thing he's ever seen and he wants to throw up. He fucking hates this panic and boiling...like what daddies feel. All of it without the damn name on his tag.

"I don't want to love her."

Baby's face softens, her hands twist.

"What?"

"You should've told me she was Dad's. I want to break my throat at the way I feel - you've given me nothing but a baby I can't see? And you what me? You're not stupid, you should know."

Roman, so slowly, careful in his terror and love, comes to sit on the ground with his and her's bundled baby.

"You should've told me she was Dad's if you wanted me to be pissy and just pissy about this. You don't me clean and squeaky when it comes to this."

"Okay."

Roman's brow twitches at a baby noise in his arms. His heart beats faster.

"Do you hear me?"

"Okay. I know."

And she does. Baby accepts it with a lean over, hand through his hair. No matter what, Roman will accept a touch from her too.

It's why he'll accept this hand you given him, if it means he can forget. Just for a little bit, with every soft rock and stare at his baby.

[kingofthering]

Your single dad Vale series is *chefs kiss*

I love this exploration of sweet domesticity and you are so fun with the writing too!

!!!! thank you, I have to say that @baking-soda and @whatwepostintheshadows’ comments in the initial post have forced my brain to think about it a little more.

I think the first time they meet goes something like this:

[I don’t have an exact moment for the fic to begin but definitely a couple of months after September at least.] [This is Valentino going to Marc after Luca’s first practice.]

The assistant he’d had on the phone had told Valentino that Luca could do one free practice for the coach to evaluate his level and then they would progress from there.

She had given him the address and the time of said practice and Valentino had dropped off Luca with an encouraging smile that hadn’t been returned. It took some deep breaths for Valentino to calm down and not take the decision personally and then some more for him to leave and not stay in the parking for the whole duration of practice.

Valentino comes back 10 minutes before the ending time he was given. He gets out of the car and settles himself in one corner of the pitch, leaning against the barrier and keeping his eyes on Luca while they scrimmage.

Luca doesn’t acknowledge him when he comes out of the pitch and Valentino swallows past his frustration once again.

It’s a good thing that the coach is dressed differently from his players (black puffer jacket around a small body and a wool beanie down his hair, plastering curls to his forehead) because Valentino’s first thought is: he looks like a fucking kid.

“Hi, you’re coach Marquez?” Valentino asks when he approaches him. “I’m Valentino Rossi, Luca Marini’s older brother.”

He extends his hand out and the other man grabs it with a “Hi, you can call me Marc,” and a smile, the fabric of his gloves soft against Valentino’s fingers.

“I mean, I’m his legal guardian,” Valentino corrects himself. “And still his brother but I’m taking care of this as his guardian. He just moved here. Thank you for letting him try out now. I hope everything was okay.”

Marc smiles, his hand briefly going for a squeeze of Valentino’s elbow. It feels nice, grounding. Valentino doesn’t even know why he’s fumbling things up, it’s ridiculous.

(He needs this to work for Luca. He really does. It’s not ridiculous Valentino, breathe.)

“Luca did really well,” Marc says. It eases a knot in Valentino’s stomach. “I didn’t hear him say a single word but he followed every order to perfection and from what I’ve seen, he has great potential. We could definitely use him on the right wing if he wants to play with us.”

Valentino might be outright beaming now, his pride evident on his face. “Yeah? That’s really good to hear.”

[And then Valentino tells Marc about Luca’s mom —well, their mom, even though his brain is still marking the difference, for some reason that’s supposedly helping right then— because even though he doesn’t want to expose Luca’s life to everyone without his permission, if that guy is going to mentor Luca several times a week, he deserves to know, needs to in order to properly understand Luca, truthfully.]

“You’re going to come back during the day tomorrow to see Chiara and deal with all the paperwork, right?”

Valentino nods. Now that he’s gotten the big thing™️ out of the water, he has to admit that Marc’s accent is a little distracting. Not in a bad way.

“Yes,” Valentino confirms. “She already sent me the list of the papers I need to bring by email, I think.”

“Good,” Marc nods. They’ve made their way to the entry of the main building and Valentino can already see boys coming out of the locker rooms, cleats traded for sneakers and a coat around their shoulders. “Ask her for my number, I’ll grab yours from Luca’s file. I promise I’ll tell you if anything happens and you can text me if you think there is anything else I should know or if anything comes up with Luca. Alright?”

Valentino nods. Marc has taken off his beanie, making his curls spill out. He doesn’t look 15 but he really doesn’t look that much older than the kids he’s supposed to take care of. Maybe Valentino can ask Chiara for his age tomorrow. He knows how to be discreet with this kind of things, usually.

Luca passes by. He stops in front of them, nods in Marc’s direction and turns to Valentino to tell him that he’s ready to go. Valentino hands him the keys of the car and Luca walks away.

“That’s my cue to leave,” Valentino says, a little apologetic even though he’s not sure exactly why. “Thanks again for the chance.” The next words tumble out of his mouth on their own accord. “Even though I have to say, I don’t know how I feel about letting a Spaniard teach my baby brother how to play football.”

Marc bursts out laughing. It makes Valentino smile again and they wave each other goodbye before Valentino goes to join Luca in the car.

[cecilysass]

False Front

Read on AO3 | Tagging @today-in-fic CW: suggestion of possible rape / sexual assault (from canon) written for the X-Files Flicked Switch Fanfic Exchange

He’s doing everything, every single thing he can think of, but Mulder’s getting nowhere and he knows it. He blusters around Skinner’s office, he fires off orders to the Gunmen, he drives back to her apartment and searches over every square inch. Of course he calls her cell countless times. You never know when she might be able to pick up.

It’s actually the cell phone that finally does it, that makes him give up on her apartment and go home.

He’s on the floor methodically sorting the contents of her wastepaper basket—tissues, an empty tube of makeup, two endearing chocolate wrappers—when Frohike calls and tells him that it appears that the signal never actually left her building.

He finds the phone in her desk drawer. Turned off. Silent. It’s devastating. All day it has been absorbing his diligent calls here in this drawer. Not anywhere near her.

Mulder closes the desk drawer slowly, observing absently that his hands are trembling. He locks up her apartment and walks out to his car. He’s been through this so many times now, a familiar refrain: she’s gone, maybe forever, he has to bring her back, he has no idea how. It only gets harder. Because one of these times they won’t figure it out. One of these times the worst is bound to come true.

It’s very important at this stage not to give in to his darkest anxieties, that fear and that dread. Keeping his face impassive helps; that’s an old trick, predating his partner. His mind can be an even more useful ally, and it’s straining to go into profiler mode, reaching out instinctively for every possible scrap of information he has.

On the drive to Alexandria he keeps mentally revisiting those emails, all that fabricated correspondence between the account of Dana Katherine Scully and this unknown Cobra. Those missives turned out to tell quite a tale.

I think about how much of a mark I could have left on the world, had I not ended up in the F.B.I., had I been free to pursue what I wanted.

I wish you and I could meet like normal people do, just have dinner, wine and challenging conversation. I want that so badly. I daydream about it.

You and I — we understand one another, don’t we? That’s so rare and beautiful. Often I feel like there’s no one in my life who really understands anything about me.

This isn’t Scully. These aren’t her words. It’s creative writing from someone else, likely C.G.B. Spender himself. The moment the Gunmen told him these emails existed, Mulder knew this.

Even so, the fabricated words get under his skin. They bother him deeply. At a fucking cellular level.

Maybe it’s that the smoking man doesn’t sound so far off? Maybe because little bits and pieces do sound eerily like something Scully could say—maybe, possibly, under the right circumstances. Mulder doesn’t like that. It makes her feel farther away somehow.

When the Gunmen said Scully had been writing to someone named Cobra, he’d so easily dismissed them. No. She would have told me, he’d said. That utter confidence haunts him now. Because even if he were right in this case, it turns out there’s quite a bit she hasn’t told him.

Mulder pictures Spender smiling to himself, typing away at home in a cloud of smoke, dreaming up this fictional romance between Scully and her Defense Department confidante.

He suspects the smoking man likes the idea of Mulder, his supposed son, uncovering this. He probably got some sick little thrill imagining Mulder discovering Scully’s tawdry secret online relationship. Look, Mulder, your loyal girl betrayed you. What an extra little zing that must give him. In addition to the heady exhilaration of murdering his son’s adored partner.

Mulder slams his palm down on the steering wheel angrily.

How could she go anywhere with him? How could she believe any word that came out of his mouth? Was she threatened? Blackmailed? What could possibly make it worth it?

He’s breathing much too fast. He takes a long, extended breath and releases it. No point in asking all these questions. There’s too much he still doesn’t know.

Something else keeps poking at his mind, though.

It’s the second time in just over a year that some would-be writer has presumed he knows Scully well enough to attempt to represent her inner life. That someone has been inspired to write the complex heart and mind of Dana Scully.

Such utter, arrogant bullshit. Why would anyone delude themselves that they could know Scully like this? What is it about Scully that makes men think they can read her? As far as Mulder knows, no one has ever understood her heart. Certainly not Phillip Padgett. Not C.G.B. Spender.

Not—all too clearly—Fox Mulder.

Mulder’s fingers tighten around the steering wheel, his knuckles going white as he tries to rein himself in. Thoughts, not feelings, he reminds himself. Mind, not heart.

*** At home he’s restless, because there is nothing productive for him to do there. No leads to follow up on. Nothing to do but wait.

He’s hungry—who even remembers when the fuck he last ate?—so he walks into his kitchen and bangs around impatiently looking for something to eat. There’s an unopened bag of bagels in his fridge along with a tub of sealed cream cheese. These items weren’t purchased with him in mind, which depresses him. But he’s got to eat something, and well, here they are. No point in passing out. He begins slathering cream cheese on a bagel.

The last time they had sex—the fifth time overall—was a little under a week ago. Here, his place.

She showed up at his door, that determined look in her eyes. No discussion, no words, exactly like the other times, a pattern Mulder finds both hot and disturbing. Sudden, fierce, take-no-prisoners kissing, the pulling open of clothing, the hitching up of her work skirt, a frantic fuck against his front door.

Afterwards she’d clung to his sweaty neck to catch her breath, and he’d buried his face in her rosemary-scented hair. He’d wept just a little—he couldn’t help it. The emotions involved are titanic, completely beyond his ability to cope with. It is amazing, everything, but something is off, too, and he doesn’t know what to do to correct the course.

He could tell by the way she tightened her hold that she noticed his tears, but she didn’t ask about them.

Much to his relief, she had changed into his tee-shirt, crawled into his bed and stayed the night—a first—leaving that rosemary scent behind on his pillowcase, plus several strands of copper hair.

The next morning they got up, dressed, had coffee, and discussed their case. Matter-of-factly. Like Mulder and Scully. Like nothing was different. Like she had dropped by for coffee before work. Like this incredible sex they kept having existed only in his imagination or in some alternate dimension. He didn’t ask any questions, and neither did she.

Now he’s got nothing but questions. He’s haunted by fucking questions. What if he never sees her again? What if she never eats any of these bagels he optimistically bought hoping she’d stay over again soon? What if he never has the chance to find out what she meant by any of it, what it could have meant if it had continued? What if it’s his fault she’s gone, what if it’s all because she’s been used as a tool somehow to get to him?

Not everything is about you, Mulder.

He sits on his couch and forces himself to focus on eating, polishing the bagel off in a few large ravenous bites. He licks every bit of cream cheese off his fingertips. He still feels hungry.

Brushing stray crumbs off his shirt, he remembers guiltily that he should update Mrs. Scully. When he called her the day before yesterday, to find out more about Scully’s nonexistent family emergency, she’d been worried—in her controlled, subdued way. Asking only basic questions—she’s been through this too many times, too. He’s only updated her once since, with pathetically little to go on. It’s probably time for another check-in.

When he looks at his phone on the desk, he practically jumps out of his skin.

There’s a flashing light. A fucking message. He leaps to his feet. How had he not seen it? Why didn’t he check his messages right away? What was he thinking?

He rushes to the button, presses it, waits.

“Mulder, it’s me.”

He stumbles back and falls into his desk chair in boneless relief.

“I’m on my way back. I’m coming straight to your place. I’m going to be about two hours. Will you ask the Gunmen to be there, too? I have something important to show you. Something I think could… change lives.”

She sounds all right, he marvels. Upbeat. Not like a recent victim. His shoulders droop in a release of tension, and he folds his hands over his forehead, taking a deep breath.

Not dead, not dead, not dead. The worst did not happen.

For a moment he lets himself just sit on the couch. Emotions pass over him like clear water through jagged rocks.

*** The thing is, he doesn’t know how to love Scully, and he assumes that’s probably the problem.

He knows how to feel. He has always been a proficient feeler of feelings. He feels all sorts of things when it comes to her in particular, a whole panoply of finely tuned emotions.

Love isn’t feeling. He knows that. He’s not the most experienced with love as a practical matter. He’s not been a big relationship guy in his life, and the love in his family, while present, hasn’t flowed as freely and easily as in other families. But he knows enough to know that love isn’t a question of emoting. He knows it’s a question of impact, of touch, of effect. Of every action having a reaction.

He knows it’s his actions that perpetually disappoint her. He’s painfully aware of that. She often needs him to be something, and he disappoints her. He can say all sorts of beautiful words to her. He can fuck her exquisitely, as he’s learned recently.

But he can’t seem to do what she needs. He can’t figure out how to love her. Not in the way that matters. Not in the way she can touch and discern and trust and rely upon.

Not in the way, he worries, that would allow her to really love him back.

*** He’s been carefully listening out for her, distracted even while the Gunmen are talking to him. So he knows she’s walking up his hallway before she gets to the door.

He swings the door open just as she raises her hand to knock.

“Mulder,” she says, her face pink, a trace of a smile. She looks uninjured and hopeful. She steps closer, and he knows she expects him to put his arms around her.

“The prodigal partner returns,” he says casually. He doesn’t step forward to greet her, and her eyes widen, betray a trace of worry.

Behind him, the Gunmen rise from the couch and stand in a tight trio in that way they always do, like they’re a chorus in a goddamned Greek tragedy.

“It’s good to see you alive, Agent Scully.”

“We thought you were toast.”

“Mulder was losing his shit,” Frohike adds.

“I’m sorry to make everyone worry,” Scully replies. Her eyes turn questioningly back on Mulder’s. He turns around brusquely to walk into the living room.

“Did you get the tapes, Mulder?” she says, following behind him. “I sent you tapes in the mail. Tapes I recorded of our conversations, from a wire I’d hidden on me. I’d expect them to be here by now.”

“I didn’t,” Mulder says, sinking onto the couch. He looks up and makes sullen eye contact with her. “I got a message on my machine about a family emergency. And a secondhand message from Skinner. That’s the extent of the communication I received.”

“I couldn’t communicate easily,” she says. “It was a singular opportunity. I was trying to get information out of him. I needed to get his trust, make him think I was accepting his story.”

Mulder slumps down further on the couch. It sounds somewhat understandable, like something he would do, but it doesn’t make him feel better. “And what was his story?”

Scully produces a plastic case. “It came down to this,” she says, holding it out to Mulder. Her voice is excited; her eyes light up. “I think this could actually be something significant. I got it from a man who went by the name Cobra.”

Mulder doesn’t miss Frohike and Langly exchanging knowing glances. He doesn’t take the case from her hand.

“Yeah,” he says. “We’re familiar with Cobra. A man working on a shadow project for the Department of Defense. Your email account has been having a somewhat flirtatious relationship with him for the past six months. You set up an in-person meet-up with him recently.”

Scully is taken aback. She eyes the Gunmen, and then gives him a significant look. “Mulder.” She drops her voice. “You know those emails weren’t really from me, don’t you?”

“Of course I do,” he replies. “There were a lot of feelings revealed in those emails. Didn’t really seem like you.”

Frohike clears his throat. She presses her lips together and holds out the small square case to Langly. “This disk,” she says to the Gunmen. “Please see what’s on it.”

Langly takes it from her hands, nodding, and the three Gunmen begin to huddle around their computers.

Scully hesitantly moves to sit next to Mulder on the couch, her eyes on him.

“If I’m right,” she says, “then everything that’s happened these past few days will be more than worth it, Mulder.”

“Your death wouldn’t have been worth it.”

“That’s familiar,” she replies back tightly. “Only usually it’s me who says it to you.”

He can’t answer her. Actually, he finds he can’t even look at her, even though he knows in his heart he’s being unfair.

“I had to take the risk.” Her voice has hardened.

He swallows and rises to his feet, pacing to release some pent-up energy before settling in the door, clinging to the door frame while the Gunmen work.

After a moment, the Gunmen look at one another awkwardly.

“There’s nothing on this,” Frohike mutters.

“It’s empty,” adds Langly.

“Completely.”

“No.” Scully springs from her seat. “It can’t be,” she insists. She bends over to look at the computer, as if somehow she will be able to conjure something the Gunmen can’t. “It can’t be. It’s got to be on there.”

Langly looks embarrassed for her, Byers openly sympathetic.

Mulder can’t help but make eye contact with her now. She’s looking back at him as if afraid of his reaction, and he knows that should bother him.

He can only stare at her in silent frustration, gripping the door above him.

*** They sit around his table and listen to her tell her story.

He can tell Scully’s rattled, but she makes a game attempt to hide it. She speaks in her very best authoritative agent voice, as though she is making a report to Skinner. She sticks to the facts, offering very little commentary, but she keeps repeatedly licking her lips, pushing her hair behind her ear, her most obvious nervous tics.

“I didn’t understand exactly what he wanted,” she says. “But I thought there was something to be gained by playing along. Seeing what I could find out.”

“Something for him to gain, maybe,” Mulder says. “Cobra’s trust.”

The Gunmen’s eyes bounce from her to him.

“I think there was more to it than that,” Scully says emphatically. “He seemed to sincerely want to convince me. It’s why I thought he… it’s why I believed the disk was real.”

There is a painful silence. Langly doesn’t seem to know where to look.

“It’s funny, it’s like he imagines himself to be a kind of silver-tongued Richard III,” Byers comments thoughtfully. “Convincing his own Lady Anne to bend to his will.”

Scully rotates to look at him. Frohike raises his eyebrows.

“What, you guys don’t know your Shakespeare?” Byers says. “The villain who uses charm as a weapon? Richard III? ‘Was ever woman in this humor wooed?’ It’s a famous—”

“I know it,” Scully cuts him off sharply. “Richard’s charm works on Anne, Byers. Spender’s did not on me.”

Mulder bites back what he wants to say: didn’t it, though? Didn’t you do everything he wanted you to? He must not be hiding his thoughts as well as he thinks, because Scully, glimpsing his face, flushes.

He suspects Byers is right, that Spender imagines himself a kingly mastermind, using Scully as a pawn to be easily moved about. Like she’s some early modern female character in a Shakespearean tragedy, passive and at the mercy of men.

“Mulder, I went to his office,” Scully says forcefully. “We can go there right now. You and me. There could be evidence there.”

Both of her fists are clenched. He can practically feel her desperation crossing over into anger, radiating off of her in waves. If there’s anything he knows about his partner, it’s that she never wants to have been anyone’s pawn—anyone’s passive placeholder—ever again.

“Yeah,” Mulder says softly, meeting her eyes. “Okay. Let’s go.”

***

She asks him to drive, and she calls out the instructions to him in a resolute, crisp voice. As she does, he steals glimpses at her in the passenger seat. She doesn’t notice, looking ahead, her posture stiff and straight.

He suspects his standoffishness is starting to seriously piss her off. He doesn’t himself quite understand why he’s still so intensely angry with her. He wishes he weren’t. It’s like he’s experiencing a powerful torrent of emotion, an opened fire hydrant, and he can’t stop.

“If someone offers you valuable information,” Scully says to him out of nowhere, pronouncing each syllable very clearly, “you have to pursue it. Even if you’re not sure it’s entirely reliable. You have to find out. You know that.”

Mulder is quiet.

“Is this the cold shoulder, Mulder?” Her voice sounds bitter. “You’re very fortunate that’s not how I chose to respond to every one of your in-the-moment miscalculations.”

“Why would you not tell your partner, Scully? Why keep it a secret from me?”

“I told you, he didn’t want me to,” she says tightly. “He told me the offer was only good if I didn’t.”

“Really raises some questions, doesn’t it?” Mulder asks. “Why would he want to separate you from your partner? What does offering you the cure for the world’s diseases have to do with me?”

“I sent you the tapes,” Scully says sharply. “I didn’t listen to him. You act like I had no agency.”

He laughs darkly. “You had exactly the amount of agency he wanted you to have.”

She sucks in air. More and more pissed off. Still, she has to be able to see, doesn’t she? He wonders if she really believes they will find evidence at Spender’s office, or if she’s only clinging to that idea to protect herself.

“He knew he didn’t entirely have me,” she comments decisively after a pause. “He tried everything to get in my head. He even attempted a little pop psychology, and he did it badly.”

“Oh yeah?” Mulder says, risking a look at her. “What kind of pop psychology?”

“Let’s see.” She tilts her head and recites facetiously. “I’m attracted to powerful men, but I fear their power. I keep walls up. I’m devoted to you on one level, yet I live alone. I’d die for you, but I won’t let myself love you.” She gives him a scathing look and turns to gaze out the window. “Cosmopolitan magazine level insight, really.”

“Sounds like it,” Mulder says gruffly. If she’s intentionally lobbing a grenade, it found its target. His mind is spinning trying not to read into these statements, trying not to parse what parts she’s insinuating are ridiculous.

“He’s like anyone else, Mulder. He has weaknesses.” She gazes straight out the front window. “Whatever else is true, I’m sure of that much.”

“We all have weaknesses,” he mutters tightly. “Which is why we have partners and we don’t just … go off on our own.”

She turns and fixes him with a slow, deadpan look of disbelief. She doesn’t even need to say it. They both know perfectly well what a patently absurd thing that is for him to say to her.

With an exasperated shake of her head, she turns back to the passenger window.

In the silence that follows, Mulder contemplates the impressive depths of his own hypocrisy.

If he’d been approached in the same way, with the promise of some information he’d wanted badly, he knows he would have gone, too. He knows he would have because he’s done exactly that sort of thing before.

He just has this tendency to hold her to a different, only-for-Scully standard. This isn’t the first time he’s done it. It’s actually an embarrassing pattern.

Sometimes, he expects her to be more rational than he would ever ask himself to be. He expects her to be more prudent than he ever is. He expects her to leave aside her personal biases when his are woven into the fabric of their entire work.

Why does he do it? Is it because of their respective genders? Does it come from his deep feelings for Scully, his overwhelming desire to keep her safe? This all might factor into it and affect his professionalism, but he thinks it comes down to something more.

He’s come to depend on Scully playing a certain role in their partnership. And when she veers off course—makes him guess—it both delights and unnerves him. She plays the same familiar theme in their shared duet, the perfect counterpoint to his, the well-matched half of their mutual composition. If she suddenly seems to go solo, to improvise, to take up the fucking sitar or the ukulele or something, he doesn’t always cope well.

He glances over in the car to look balefully at the back of her head, still intently focused out the window. He can’t keep her in a box. He’s probably held her back for too long.

Then he thinks about Spender’s fucking emails, his fucking pop psychology, getting Scully to board some goddamn boat to meet some man for him.

Come on. This road trip with the smoker isn’t her pushing her limits. It’s not her spreading her wings. It’s her possibly getting killed. It’s beneath her. It’s just … stupid.

He suppresses the urge to slam his hand down on the steering wheel again. Next to him, she sighs.

***

What was once set up to appear to be Spender’s offices is now a completely empty building. Mulder is faintly surprised. He thought maybe it would turn out to be a legitimate office building who’d unwittingly played landlord to a liar. He thought they’d find a bunch of bewildered receptionists and cubicle dwellers who responded in confusion to their questions.

Instead, the whole thing turns out to be a mirage. Empty room after empty room. Everything and everyone evaporated into thin air.

This is an elaborate ruse just for Scully, he ponders, staring at an abandoned pad of sticky notes on the floor. Spender spent some money on this sham. Why go to all this trouble and then leave the most important loose end alive? It sends a shiver down his spine.

Scully is upset, of course, and he’s trying to be more understanding. She’s making it hard. She sounds unacceptably, uncharacteristically credulous, like she’s never even heard the word “skepticism” before in her life. It’s grating on him.

“Mulder, I looked into his eyes. I swear what he told me was true,” she says stubbornly.

“He did it all for himself—to get the science on that disk,” Mulder’s voice is taut. “His sincerity was a mask, Scully. The man's motives never changed.”

“You think he used me to save himself—at the expense of the human race.”

“No, he knows what that science is worth, how powerful it is. He'd let nothing stand in his way.”

“You may be right... but for a moment, I saw something else in him. A longing for something more than power. Maybe for something he could never have.”

Mulder wants to yell at her that that’s complete horseshit. He wants to take her shoulders and shake her and ask her what the fuck is wrong with her. But he exercises some restraint.

“And what is that something he can’t have, Scully? Compassion? Redemption? You really think, after all this, he cares about any of that?”

She wraps her arms around herself in a protective gesture, looking up and down the walls of what had apparently once been his false office. Her back is to him.

“Aren’t you the same person who once told me ‘the truth is out there, but so are lies?’” Mulder pushes. “Where’s that Dana Scully?”

She walks to the window and stands in front of it, still hugging herself and looking out into the afternoon light. From Mulder’s vantage point she looks only like a silhouette, an outline of herself.

“I get it,” she says after a heavy beat. “I see what you’re saying.”

Now there’s a melancholy timbre in her voice, a sound of defeat. He hears it rarely, for all of their struggles, and he doesn’t like it.

She doesn’t turn away from the window. Her head tilts forward until her forehead rests lightly against the glass.

“I was duped, clearly,” she says, her voice expressionless. “Please. Can you just take me back to your apartment so I can get my car and go home?”

*** On the drive back, her face is as inaccessible as a marble statue’s. For a while she shuts her eyes, but he knows she isn’t asleep.

“Hey, are you hungry?”

“Not really,” she says, stretching her neck from side to side as though it is sore.

“You sure? When did you last eat?”

“I don’t feel like eating, Mulder.”

“You’re a little pale.” He refuses to sit in silence.

“I’m tired,” she says with a tone of finality. “I didn’t sleep very well last night, thinking about the sunrise meeting.”

Mulder nods in an attempt at sympathy, sending her repeated sideways looks. Something in what she just said nudges at his thoughts, bothers him.

“The meeting with Cobra was at sunrise?”

“Yes,” she says shortly.

“But you didn’t come back to my apartment until one,” Mulder says. “It’s not that long a drive.”

She shifts in her seat, apparently attempting to get comfortable. “No.”

“You didn’t come straight back?”

“I made another stop,” Scully says evasively.

“Another stop? For a few hours?”

“Yes.”

Her lack of communication is again making him angry.

“Where could you possibly go between here and Milford, Pennsylvania?” He knows his tone is too nasty. “Philadelphia?”

She exhales sharply. “Do I need to account for all of my time now, Mulder? And is that little rule going to apply to you, too?”

“I was looking for you,” he snaps. “I was worried sick about you. Where would you go before trying to call me?”

“To the hospital,” she replies hotly.

His head spins to look at her. “Why?”

“Just to get … something checked out.”

Every muscle in his body seizes up, alert. “To get what checked out?”

She pauses. “I had them do a rape kit.”

He swallows, aware that his heart is pounding loudly in his ears. The sides of his vision begin to narrow until he can only see a tiny fragment of the road ahead. He starts pulling the car over, guiding the car into a grocery store parking lot.

When he has safely maneuvered them into a spot at the back of the lot, he turns to face her.

“Why did you have them do a rape kit, Scully?” he asks quietly. His voice is shaking.

She’s meeting his eyes, but her face is difficult to read, a complete mask. “They didn’t … find any evidence of anything.” She extends her fingertips and meticulously picks a piece of fuzz off of his sweater. “We had been in the car, driving for many hours, and I fell asleep. When I woke up, I was in different clothes. Pajamas. In a bed. Obviously, it unsettled me, and I kept thinking about it, so … a rape kit.”

He’s ashamed at how badly he’s reacting, how frightened he is to the very core. He knows that it’s her who should be comforted. He tries to calm himself, reaches out and clasps her hand.

“Scully,” he whispers.

“It had been close to 36 hours at that point,” she continues in an even, formal voice. “So, as you know, that affects the quality of the forensic evidence. I did bring the underwear I was wearing, just in case.”

“Oh Jesus,” he says. He feels physically ill. “Scully.”

“I don’t think anything happened,” she adds. “I went just because I kept thinking about it, but I didn’t think his agenda was…” She drifts off, bites her lip. “I admit that I wonder a little more now.”

They’re both too familiar with the process of testing for forensic evidence of rape and sexual assault. A thousand possible scenarios pass through his mind. He knows they have passed through hers, too.

“They found nothing?” he whispers.

“A small fragment of latex in my clothes … concerned them,” she says softly. “But it’s latex from latex gloves, and you know… I have lots of latex gloves. It could have easily come from my car, from the autopsy I did earlier in the week.”

“Scully,” he says urgently. “You could have called me. In the hospital. I would have come.”

“It’s… okay, Mulder. It was very likely nothing.”

“You thought this was possible,” Mulder says, in a sudden explosion of feeling, “and you stayed? You stayed in that house with him? Anything could have happened, he could have…”

He stops himself, seeing her expression. “I’m so sorry,” he says, instantly penitent. “I’m so sorry.” He leans over and presses his cheek into the palm of her hand. “I know why you stayed. You needed to finish the job.”

“You would have done the same?” Her voice sounds unexpectedly small, like someone else’s.

It doesn’t happen to me in quite the same way, he thinks. Sometimes ex-girlfriends attempt seductions when I am down for the count. Sometimes my brain is violated with surgical knives. But it’s not like this. Not like this.

“I would have,” he promises. He scoots over as far as he can in the car seat and tentatively threads his arms around her, pulling her against his shoulder. “I imagine you know this,” he says roughly, “but I have to say it, especially because I’ve been such a dick to you since you came back. None of this is your fault. You were trying to find out all you could. So you could do the right thing, like you always do.”

“I know, Mulder,” she says, her voice a soft whimper against his shirt. “I know, but I should have known better.”

“We can’t always know better,” he replies into her hair. “We take risks, and sometimes they pay off, sometimes they don’t. We can’t second guess. It’s the job.”

She pulls her face back to look at him, and her lip is slightly trembling. “I think I wanted to believe him,” she says. “I wanted it to be real, because if it worked, it would mean everything we’ve gone through all these years would turn out to have an actual impact. Would turn out to have real meaning after all. I could make it all make sense.”

He thinks about that: his little Catholic, wanting so badly to turn her suffering into redemption.

“Listen, of all people, I understand that,” he says, swiping her tear away with his finger. “I know all about wanting to believe.”

“And it felt like he was approaching me seriously,” she says in a hushed voice, like it’s a dark secret. “As an adversary, an intelligent mind. The way he deals with you.” Practically in a whisper. “It–it probably flattered me more than it should have. I’m embarrassed about it.”

“Scully—”

“No,” she says quickly, her face flushing. “It’s true. He’s always seen me as …a test subject. A lever used to motivate you. A chess piece. And he was talking to me like I was … a player. Mulder, he must have known how I’d respond to that.”

She’s so ashamed of this tiny manifestation of pride, this smallest and most sympathetic of vanities. Mulder runs his thumbs lightly up and down her jaw bones.

Her voice is low and terse. “And this possible touching thing, thinking about it now. This dress he had me wear...” She peters out in disgust.

Mulder’s insides are churning. Holding firmly to each side of her face, he pulls it close to him, so he can stare closely into her pale eyes. “I’ll kill him, Scully,” he says hoarsely. “I’ll fucking kill him.”

He can so easily imagine doing it— the satisfaction of killing Spender. Extinguishing the life out of the man’s arrogant eyes, the surprise as he realizes he’s lost, that he can’t do whatever he wants after all.

Scully, eyes wide and glacial blue, shakes her head almost imperceptibly from within his hold on her cheeks. And he understands, from his experience of her in hundreds of different situations and hundreds of discrete moments, exactly what she’s trying to communicate. That doesn’t help, Mulder. That’s not what I need. This isn’t his story to write.

“Okay,” he says gently, lightly pushing her hair back from her face. “Okay, yep, I get it. I won’t do anything unpredictable right now.”

“Thank you.” She exhales, tilts her head down.

He tucks a lock behind her ear, his mind racing. “What if we left your car at my place?” he asks. “I could take you home. We could pick up some food on the way. You could get to your bed faster that way.”

She looks up to him, her expression guarded. “And what about you?”

He hesitates, wondering what she wants him to say. Every moment of physical intimacy they’ve ever had has been initiated without words; he doesn’t have a precedent of using language to approach it. He decides it’s safer not to assume.

“I could take a cab home,” he suggests politely. “Or call the Gunmen and ask them for a ride. You might want some peace and quiet.”

Her expression scarcely changes, but he can tell from the smallest twitch of her mouth that it was the wrong answer.

He opts for another approach. More direct.

“Or … I could stay with you,” he offers.

She lifts her lip just a fraction. It could be the beginning of a smile. “Hmm,” she says.

“I, uh, like that option best,” he adds. In for a penny, in for a pound, he supposes. “Because you’ve been gone, and I’ve been worried and what you’ve just told me worries me, too. So it would make me feel better to be around. That’s usually comforting to me, and, uh, I hope it is to you, too.”

Her eyebrows raise. He hopes that his unbearable awkwardness is at least coming across as sincere.

“I appreciate that, Mulder,” she replies.

“It’s up to you, obviously.”

She turns to face the front windshield, nodding slowly. “Why don’t you drive to my place?”

*** She doesn’t cry again. But that night, she tugs him into her bed with her and wraps her limbs tightly around him, pressing her cheek against his chest.

“I’m sorry you were so scared,” she mumbles into his shirt. “I would have been scared, too.”

“If I did something uncharacteristically rash like run off and get myself lost at sea, you mean?”

“It’s not outside of the realm of extreme possibility.”

“Hey, you said you saw something else in him,” Mulder says. Part of him doesn’t want to bring it up, but he worries Scully is still torturing herself with self-doubt. “You said he was wanting something he could never have.”

She’s quiet a beat. “I was probably deluding myself.”

“I don’t know,” he says. “I was just thinking—he’s always spinning webs of lies, always writing this bullshit involving the lives of other people, setting up false fronts. Sometimes it must occur to him that he doesn’t interact with anything real.”

“Yeah.”

“I wouldn’t want that,” Mulder says softly. “Maybe you perceived him having a moment of … clarity. That nothing in his world is genuine.”

“If he even cares about that,” she says dismissively. “Like you said. There’s no reason to think so.”

“You said you saw something in his eyes,” Mulder points out. “That’s a good enough reason. Your perception, your judgment. I don��t doubt that.”

She lifts her head and stares at him for a moment, her expression enigmatic. Then she kisses him gently on the lips, the fingers of one hand moving slowly through his hair. He tries not to tense up, but she’s never kissed him like this before. In this unhurried, tender way.

She then lays her head down right below his collarbone—where she can probably hear his heart thumping quickly—and he curls his arm around her.

“I would die for you, you know,” she says. “He was right about that much.”

He knows what she’s referring to, Spender’s claim into her psychology. If his heart wasn’t racing before, it is now.

“I know,” he murmurs. “I know you would. But I would never want you to.”

“He wasn’t right about all of it,” she adds.

I love you, too, he thinks. And to show her, he draws her in, ever closer.

[dragon-kazansky]

Little reward

Iceman x Reader

He works hard, so he deserves a little reward. You just want your husband to know he's appreciated every single day.

A lil something for @ladylanera in this fic 😘

♡♡♡

A lot of people rely on Ice for a lot of things. In the Navy and outside of it too. He works hard and receives a lot of respect. Keeping Maverick where he is needed is just one of his jobs, and he has to make a lot of calls for him sometimes.

Ice was always doing something.

Naturally, you want do something good for your hardworking husband. He deserves time for himself. No phone calls, no paperwork, no organising anything. No Maverick for a while.

You knock on the door to his office. There is a slight pause before you hear his voice. Pushing the door open, you enter.

Tom is typing something up on his computer. He has his back to you as you enter the room. Sighing softly, you make your way over to him.

You come to a stop beside his chair and hope that he will look up at you. He does not. He types away, seemingly tense with whatever it is he is responding to. Hating seeing your husband so worked up, you place the treat you brought to him on his desk and place your hands on his shoulders. He eases up almost immediately.

"Finish that email and then turn your computer off."

Tom's fingers hover over the keyboard.

"I can't," he whispers.

You dig your fingers into his shoulders and squeeze slightly. You lean down a little and press a kiss to the top of his head.

"Please."

Tom closes his eyes as he leans his back, eager for the feel of you. He wished he didn't have so much to do. He wants to spend his time with you, but duty calls. It calls far too often these days.

"Can't I have my husband for myself for an hour at least?"

Ice sighs.

He could spare an hour. Surely.

His fingers continue their typing and you watch as he sends the email. With the click of a button he shuts his monitor off and then turns his chair. He halts when he sees what you left on the desk.

"Strawberries?"

You smile and look at the little dish of strawberries you brought him.

"You do still like them, don't you?"

Tom smiles.

"Yes."

He reaches out and takes one from the top. You chuckle as you watch him bite into it and eat it. He smiles up at you.

"Lovely."

You chuckle and reach for his hand. Tom stands from his chair and let's you guide him, bringing the rest of the strawberries with him in his free hand.

You take him to the bedroom. Tom looks at the bed and then at you.

"We're a bit old for fooling around, don't you think?" He says, smiling at you.

You laugh.

"Don't be silly! I want to cuddle with you. You deserve a break and some relaxation. Come on," you let go of his hand to climb onto the bed.

Tom watches you get comfortable and chuckles softly. Placing the strawberries on the table on his side, he gets onto the bed with you and lies back. You shuffle closer and he lifts his arm, letting you get cosy. You rest your head on his chest and wrap your arm around him. His head rests lightly against yours as you both get comfortable.

"You work so hard and don't take much time for yourself."

He remains quiet.

"I miss my husband sometimes."

Tom closes his eyes as he gives you a gentle squeeze. He misses you too, but when duty calls he has to answer.

"I know," he whispers.

You look up at him and see the expression on his face. Softly, you press your lips to his cheek and he opens his eyes, gazing at you with so much love and adoration.

"It's nice to just have a moment to sit back and relax. To cuddle and just hold one another," you remind him.

Back in the early days of your relationship, there was a lot of cuddling and kissing. Tom often had an arm around you wherever you both went. A reassurance that you were there and you were his.

"I miss it," he whispers.

"Then let's make sure it never stops," you tell him. He nods his head softly. "Now, do you want to take a break and rest quietly, or shall I read to you?"

Ice smiles.

"Read to me, darling."

You smile softly as you reach for the book on his nightstand. You get into a comfortable reading position where you're still close to him and still touching him. Tom closes his eyes as be listens to your voice.

He had almost forgotten what it was like to rest and take it easy.

But it's okay. He has you to remind him. Tom Kazansky would be lost without you.

[panicfanatic]

What A Blessing (To Meet Someone Like You).

I'd never really processed just how much my life was set to change after I'd left school. I suppose five years of sitting through the same classes with the same people all day five days a week does make it hard to acknowledge that one day, you will sit your exams, go to prom, and then never look back. You get a job, start earning money, then before you know it, you're moving out of your childhood home. You get your own place, and even though it's just some shitty flat in central London, it's your shitty flat in central London, and you're proud of it. You try your best to keep in touch with old friends, but eventually there will come a day where you get a new phone, and while you're transferring all of the contacts from your old one, you forget to add a few numbers; the numbers of people you once saw every day, but now only speak to on Christmas and birthdays. If you can even remember the latter. You grow up, and enter the world as an adult. It's bittersweet, but time marches on, and your life as you knew it begins to shape into something else entirely.  This was the truth I had to deal with. I left school, and enrolled in college, then in the blink of an eye, I was graduating university with an English Language degree and buying my own place two hundred miles away from my parents. I stopped speaking to friends from school, and I began living my new life.

Which leads me up to now. I sit at the kitchen table in my tiny flat, sighing as a headache begins to form behind my eyes. I stare blankly at the screen of my ancient laptop, silently willing the words to write themselves. I'd never managed to do much with my English degree, and now I sit here with a job at a tabloid newspaper that I secretly hate, wishing I could move on to bigger and better things. Instead of publishing gripping romance novels for the masses to read and love, I spend my time writing about music and celebrities and sports and things I really couldn't give any lesser shits about. It's my only source of income, however, so there isn't much I can do. I barely constitute as a journalist, even though that is supposedly my job title. 

I would write those gripping romance novels, but the prospect of sharing my prose with anyone, even my closest family and friends, fills me with such terror that I can't bring myself to send an email to the publisher's office, like I've been planning on doing for months now. Every time I hover the cursor over the 'Send' button, I freeze with horror and close out of the tab. It's sort of like stage fright but for nerds. 

I would write those gripping romance novels, but the prospect of sharing my prose with anyone, even my closest family and friends, fills me with such terror that I can't bring myself to send an email to the publisher's office, like I've been planning on doing for months now. Every time I hover the cursor over the 'Send' button, I freeze with horror and close out of the tab. It's sort of like stage fright but for nerds. 

I leave the block of flats and cross the road, my feet subconsciously carrying me towards the coffee shop on the corner that I frequently visit. I enter the small, cosy shop, smiling softly at the gentle scent of coffee beans and spiced syrups hit my nose. The shop is warm, and I already feel more at ease as I approach the counter. I give my order, then wait for my drink to be made. I quickly pay for it and bring it to one of the tables in the corner, near another table where a tall guy with fluffy brown hair and circular glasses sits, long legs stretched out and a book in his hand. I don't catch much of his face, as his nose is buried in the book (it appears to be a notebook of some sort, but I can't really tell), but he seems to have nice taste- he wears a cable-knit sweater with black pants, and his black rain-coat hangs over his chair. I glance away as I sit down, pulling out my phone. I scroll mindlessly through Twitter, and I actively feel my brain becoming numb as my eyes skim over the latest celebrity drama that I'm undoubtedly going to be asked to write about within the next week. I sip my coffee absently, idly wondering why I pay so much for it every day when my income isn't exactly as disposable as I'd like to believe. I push the thought away, allowing myself to just enjoy my regular spiced latte, because you only live once, right? So what if I go bankrupt over coffee? I'm going to die one day, anyway. It won't matter then, will it?

I almost jump when I get a notification from my closest friend, Angelica. (She often goes by Angel to those closest to her, which is ironic, considering she is anything but). I open the message, and I don't know whether to be disappointed or amused at the image she's sent. It's some stupid meme she probably got from Tiktok, and I roll my eyes fondly as I type my response. 'What the fuck. Weirdo.' Her response is simply dripping with disdain, and I laugh softly under my breath. After a moment's hesitation, I ask her if she wants to meet up. Her reply is immediate: 'Of course.' I tell her where I am, and she promises to be here in ten minutes, tops. I know it will take her at least twenty, but I let myself believe her as I order her a drink. 

It does indeed take her around twenty minutes to arrive, and she collapses into the chair opposite me. "You got me a drink." Is all she says as she gulps down at least half of the coffee.  "I did. I owed you off last week." I shrug, taking in my best friend's features. Her hair is a wild mess of caramel-coloured curls, matching her light brown skin. Her almost-jasmine eyes are bright, as always, and her full lips are set in a smirk.  "Oh, so it's not from the kindness of your heart then. I see how it is." She rests her chin in her hands, her bright eyes meeting mine. "How you doing, anyway? You still on that magazine shit?" "Yes, I am still on that magazine shit. Unfortunately." I sigh softly as I drain my glass. "What about you? Still living off your dad?" She snorts. "Nah. He made me get a job. Bullshit, if you ask me." "No way you have a job." I gape at her. "What is it?" "I work in a music studio now. Producing, and shit. It's actually quite fun. Plus I get money for it, so." She huffs out a laugh. "Well, glad to know one of us is enjoying their job." I laugh, then add, "So, when did you start this?" "About a month ago. I think I forgot to tell you." Angel's always been like this, ever since school. She's the only person I kept contact with from school, and never once has she changed. God, her whole house could burn down and she'd forget to tell me. I suppose she just assumes I already know, on some sort of spiritual level, everything that's happening in her life in real time.  "Of course." I roll my eyes fondly.

"We had a band in, last week. Lovejoy, they said their name was. The music they were making is pretty good, actually. The sort of thing you'd enjoy." She hums softly. "Yeah, and they're doing a show soon. You should go. You need a break, anyway."  "Hm. Maybe, I'll think about it." I fall silent for a moment, the name of the band ringing a bell. Lovejoy...  "Promise me you'll go. You overwork yourself, and you're clearly sick of your job." Angel stares at me intently, her gaze piercing, and I find myself nodding.  "Okay, okay, I'll go. What did you say the name of the band was again?" I pull up my notes app so I can write a reminder in my phone to buy tickets and research the band.  "Lovejoy." Angel supplies as I type it into my phone.  "I feel like I've heard that name somewhere..." I trail off as I search my mind. I catch glimpses of dining tables and empty word documents, of frustrated sighs and coffee shop visits. What was the article I was supposed to be writing about again? Some up-and-coming internet band? "I think I'm meant to be writing an article on them and interviewing them." "Oh my God, then going to the show is the perfect opportunity!" Angel grins widely at me. The fluffy-haired guy gets to his feet, but I don't watch him leave and instead turn my eyes back to Angel.  "Sure." I smile back, allowing myself the slightest bit of excitement that I'll get to see a concert and get some work done in the same night. Maybe a tabloid magazine isn't so bad after all.

Even after eight years of not being a secondary school student, my lack of work ethic has always remained the same. I shamelessly went straight to my bedroom after re-entering my flat and pulled up my favourite film on my laptop instead of doing any sort of work. I can feel my old teachers looking down on me, even from here. I shrug off the guilt and get comfortable in my pyjamas, and even take the liberty to make myself a hot chocolate while I burrow under the many blankets of my warm, comfy bed. So what if I have a night off? It's not like I do it every we- oh, wait, I do. Whoops.

After the film has ended, I pull up Lovejoy's website, searching for tickets to their show. I find the show nearest to me and quickly buy myself a ticket,satisfied with myself; this counts as work. I'm going to the show to interview the band I'd been asked to interview. Buying tickets counts as working. Or at least preparing to work. I'm telling myself this now so that when I fall asleep later with my laptop still open on my lap, I can feel a little less bad about it. 

I give a few of their songs a listen, and I find that Angel, as usual, was correct; it is the sort of stuff I enjoy. I fall asleep to one of them named 'Taunt,' and I feel a strange sense of warmth as I slip into the land of dreams.