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nctsworld · 3 years

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the yuletide boyfriend

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

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

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

NOVEMBER 30th

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You?”

Yangyang slurps a few more noodles before he answers.

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

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

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

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

DECEMBER 5th

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Those were tears of dread and physical discomfort.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your eyelids snap shut and your jaw clenches.

“Mark broke up with me.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Sorry about cancelling last minute.”

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

“I’m just… so fucking frustrated.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’ll be fine, don’t worry.”

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

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

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

“Thanks again for checking up on me.”

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

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

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

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

DECEMBER 11th

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sputtering, you say, “What?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Soon-to-be boyfriend.”

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

DECEMBER 21st

Tonight’s your first date with Yangyang.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But that changes during a third of the movie.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

DECEMBER 22nd

“Babe, how do I look?”

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

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

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

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

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

He lowers his phone a bit, his jaw dangling.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

DECEMBER 23rd

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

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

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

Turning on his blades, he rebounds over to you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

DECEMBER 24th

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

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

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

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

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

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

Where is your boyfriend?

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

Did he leave you? He would never.

Right?

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

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

Maybe you’re just destined to be alone.

Is this how it feels to actually lose him?

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

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

“Oh, God, thought I lost you there—”

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

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

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

“Wanna go home?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah, baby?”

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

“Same,” he pants.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

DECEMBER 25th

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It’s the new Playstation.

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

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

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

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

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

“Thank you for everything.” Your eyes twinkle. “I couldn’t have asked to spend the holidays with anyone else.”

Carefully, like a newborn baby, he safely situates the boxed Playstation to one side and nabs your lips with his again. The scene feels like repeat of last night as your bodies wrestle passionately on the couch.

“Not to be presumptuous,” he mutters between the kisses upon your neck. Your eyelids flutter at the sensation. “But I also grabbed condoms from my place when I stopped by.”

His words sends the two of you leaping towards your bedroom. Under the dim lighting, you fall into the bed as Yangyang pares your layers off, one by one. With each peel, his lips roam the revealing bare skin. You swear he has kissed you from your literal head to toe when you’re fully nude in front of him.

Your companion drags his shirt over his head, throws it off to your floor, and immediately targets in onto your nub with his mouth, finally satiating his craving from last night.

Fingers thread into his hair and over his flexed back. His tongue swirls and his teeth lightly tug on your perkiness, making your eyes roll to the back of your head. And he still isn’t even inside you yet.

After leaving love upon your other bosom, Yangyang fumbles with the condom, forgetting which way it should go on. Giggling, you perch yourself onto your elbows and assist him. Rolling it over his possession, you recline yourself back and spread your legs for him.

Pensively, he sticks his tongue out as he adjusts himself between your sex, easing himself into you, and upon the full impact, you meet his gaze head-on. His stare makes you feel vulnerable and exposed beyond the physical plane.

But, unlike the others you have been with, you trust him with everything, like you always have, and be free with him. Losing your inhibitions and submitting to your whims, you entangle and become one with Yangyang.

Behind his hazy vision, Yangyang’s simply thinking how beautiful you are, how he can’t imagine anyone else under his touch but you, how he is willing to give up anything to make you smile.

Well, in this case, he’s willing to give up anything to make you pleased.

However, it doesn’t seem like he needs to do much because you’re howling his name and clinging onto his skin and the sheets in a frenzy, like you’re about to die of exhaustion.

You perish a few times under him before he finally reaches his little death himself, convulsing into the sheath.

When air’s replenished into your bodies, you rest on his chest under your blanket. Glancing up at him, you move some of his tousled hair off his sleek forehead.

“Merry Christmas, Yangyang,” you whisper, snuggling him with a satisfied smile.

“Merry Christmas, babe,” he whispers back, giving you one last peck before you both drift into a deep slumber together.

DECEMBER 26th

Last night took so much out of the both of you, you don’t get out of bed until about the middle of the afternoon. Yangyang doesn’t have anything planned for today since it’s Boxing Day, since the crowds might be crazy wherever you go, so it’s officially a chill, rest day for you both.

When you step out of the shower in fresh clothes, from behind the couch, you watch Yangyang gaming on his Switch.

The little voice in your head looms, prompting that now is the time to have The Talk, and speaks up on your behalf.

“Do we have to end things next week?” you croak.

You see Yangyang’s shoulders stiffen, then he pauses the game and turns around to face you. His gaze follows you as you step closer to the couch, opting to stand.

“Uhm.” His Adam’s apple bobs and he shrugs. “It’s up to you, it’s your—”

“Yangyang, that’s not what I’m asking. I’m asking what you think, how do you feel?”

His lips press together and he’s staring at the floor. You can tell the gears are moving, but you can’t read his expression clearly.

“I’m down for whatever you want to do,” he says slowly, eyes still averting yours.

That’s a I’m-your-best-friend answer, you deduce. Not a I-want-to-be-your-actual-boyfriend answer.

He adds, stuttering, “I mean, I wouldn’t mind doing this a little longer if that’s what you want—”

Your face scrunches in annoyance. “Did you just sign up to be my short-term boyfriend so you can fill my empty heart?”

His eyebrows crease with confusion. “I mean, I never want to see you unhappy.”

“So it’s pity dating then?” you lash, raising your voice.

“No, I—” Yangyang bites down on his tongue, almost letting the one word slip out again. He blows out a lengthy sigh and runs a hand through his hair. “I care about you, so much. I’d do anything to make you happy.”

You’re defining his words as an affirmation of friendship and as an underlying rejection of your love.

You need to know for certain.

“Do you love me, Yangyang?” you blurt. “As more than a friend?”

This is it, Yangyang thinks. This is your chance to let her know how you feel.

But the distress written on your face makes him wonder if he should even go through with it, and it’s intensifying with every passing moment that he’s not speaking.

If only he knew your distress was deepening because you took his hesitance as absolute rejection.

Your heart is breaking because of him, and he technically wasn’t even yours to begin with.

You smack your lips together and gulp a few times, trying to make the huge knot in your throat disappear.

“You know what, maybe let’s just forget this arrangement and leave it all behind and forget about the sex and—”

“You wanna stop this?” he utters quietly.

The word “this” hangs heavy in the air. This, carrying the weight of not only being the temporary agreement, but also your friendship.

“Yeah,” you whisper, tears beginning to blur your eyes. “I think I do.”

DECEMBER 28th

Two days have passed since you last saw Yangyang.

That day before he left, Yangyang, feeling guilty for how events unfolded, wanted to give back the Playstation, but you insisted for him to keep it. In spite of everything, it was a Christmas gift to him from you and his parents.

But both of you weren’t sure if the shared custody promise was going to be held up.

In hopes that things would eventually get better and heal itself, Yangyang thought it’d be best to leave you alone for a while, like how he usually did.

And maybe he was right to do so, but this time is different.

Because he’s on the other end of the stick now; he’s the one who broke your heart.

Under regular circumstances, whenever you needed space, he was always ready to be there by your side.

But Yangyang’s uncertain if you’re going to let him comfort you this time.

And you’re uncertain if you even want him to.

DECEMBER 30th

Today, Yangyang finally makes the move to get in touch with you, texting you to call him, but you don’t, so he leaves a voicemail later in the evening.

“There’s a New Year’s party I’m going to tomorrow,” he starts off, then spews the specific details.

There’s a pause and you hear shuffling in the background. You assume he’s pacing around.

“I know you ended our agreement, but I wouldn’t mind fulfilling my end since New Year’s is the last day tomorrow. I’d be really glad if you came to the party with me, whether it be as my friend or my girlfriend.”

Another pause.

On the other end, Yangyang rubs his palm over his face, considering whether or not he should say it. If you picked up the phone call, he was going to do it anyway, but this just felt improper. He wants to say it when he knows you’re listening in real-time, so he ends off the message with:

“I miss you. So much.”

DECEMBER 31st

It’s 8:40PM. Before Yangyang buses out to the party, he’s back at your front door for one more shot. His fist taps at your door, cognizant that you wouldn’t be elsewhere since your other friends are out of town for the holidays. Despite that, you don’t come to the door. Nevertheless, he speaks to you through the wooden barrier.

“Hey, I know you want to be left alone, but I just wanted to see if you changed your mind about the party.”

Still no answer. He lets out a sigh and prays the following will incite a reaction from you.

“About the question that you asked me that night...”

He closes his eyes and allows his mouth to carry him.

“I do. I do love you. As both my best friend and more. I’m sorry if I hurt you that night by not saying anything, but I love you so much and I think we should give us a shot.”

Still no answer. Yangyang continues.

“Look, I know it’s scary and crazy to date your best friend. I’m scared too, but you know what? I’m okay with being scared. I’ve watched you gone through those assholes over the last few years and maybe you’re scared I’ll end up like one of them, but unlike them, I don’t think you’re horrible or needy or emotional—you’re beautiful, intelligent, and strong for putting up with all those fuckers.”

He leans his forehead gently against the door.

“And even if we ever do break up, and this is a big if because I’ll always try my hardest with you to make it work, I’ll still be your friend. I promise. You won’t lose me ‘cause I need you in my life. I gotta keep my end up for the custody of the Playstation, right?”

A smile breaks over his face from his joke, but still. Radio silence.

“Can you at least say something?” he begs.

After a few minutes, realizing he needs to probably give you more time to be left alone, he departs and heads to the party.

Originally, you actually were planning on attending the party to see Yangyang to make-up with him.

Unfortunately, out of all the days you had to take a late afternoon nap, it had to be today.

And you overslept. Big time.

At 10:55PM, you scramble awake, realizing you’re absolutely late to the event. Since the party’s downtown, you know calling an Uber or Lyft there would be fast, but tonight’s the worst night for any share riding service and there aren’t any available drivers. Thus, you have to manage with busing there.

It’s 11:40PM when you finally reach downtown, but the bus can’t take you all the way to the core centre where the party is; hordes of people are out on the streets and traffic is dreadful. God, you’re going to be cutting it close to midnight, but you make a run for it.

You’re grateful the party is on the second floor of a small building because you slide in right through the entrance at 11:58PM. You rush to call Yangyang’s phone, hoping he’ll pick up as you try to find him in the scattered groups of people.

You begin to holler for him in hopes he can hear you, but the countdown is happening, drowning out your voice. Thirty seconds left until the clock strikes for the new year.

When his number finally goes to voicemail, you redial his number. Suddenly, a hand grasps you by the wrist.

Yangyang looks at you, dumbfounded.

“When did you get here?”

The harmonious chanting around you floods your surroundings.

“Ten, nine, eight...”

Getting closer to him, you practically scream into Yangyang’s face, trusting he’ll hear what you’re about to say.

“I know Christmas is over, but I want to change my wish.”

“Seven, six, five...”

“I know you might not feel the same and I know things might not work out.”

“Four, three, two...”

”But I wish to date you past New Year’s until whenever, however long we last.”

“One...”

“I love you, Yangyang—”

The one you love snatches you by the waist and your cheek, stealing your lips at the last millisecond before midnight.

“Happy New Year!”

A wave of noisemakers, clappers, and hollering erupt around the room. After it dies down a bit, Yangyang shocks you with a scolding.

“Why didn’t you say anything when I came over?!”

Confusion rushes over you. You realize he probably came by when you were sleeping.

“You came over?!”

“Yeah, I confessed my love for you.”

“Wait,” you blink blankly, unsure if you heard him correctly. “Your love?”

“Yeah,” he nods, giving you his cheesy, adorable smile. “I love you.”

“As more than a friend?” you clarify.

“Babe,” Yangyang’s thumb caresses your cheek. “I don’t think I could ever go back to wanting less with you.”

Your lips tremble with relief as your gaze melts in his.

“And, anyway, who else am I going to share the Playstation with?”

“Well, I mean, you do have Hendery, Xiaojun, Winwin...” you start to count his infinite list of friends on your fingers.

“Yeah, but I need you so I can constantly beat your cute little butt at games.”

“You do not constantly beat my cute little butt at games, I’ll have you know that I beat you at—”

Yangyang shuts you up with another kiss, the one of many for the rest of the night.

JANUARY 2nd

It’s your second morning at Yangyang’s place. You’ve only done it a few times now, but you realize that waking up in his arms is one of the greatest feelings in the world, second only to his kisses.

In his bed, spooning you from behind, he grumbles into the nape of your neck, “Morning, girlfriend.”

Half-awake, you mumble back, “Morning, boyfriend,” and sink deeper into the curve of his body.

Content, you finally broke your string of cursed holiday break-ups for good.

And all it took was to be with the one who was in front of you all this time.

2K notes · View notes

watermelonlipstick · 3 years

Text

The Hunter With The Dragon Tattoo

This is a request for anon, who asked:

i don’t know if your requests are open, but if they are, could you do one where the reader has tattoos that dean doesn’t know about and then he sees them when he has to stitch them up after a hunt? (maybe like season 1 or 2 dean) thank you!!!

And then wrote to me privately that they have a dragon tattoo on one shoulder.

It was a lot of fun to write; tons of opportunities to slip in some good classic rock references! I miss in the super early seasons when Sam and Dean seemed to rag on each other pretty much constantly. I hope this is what you were thinking of!

Title: The Hunter With The Dragon Tattoo

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader (gender neutral)

Word Count: 2589

Summary: Dean is surprised to discover the reader has tattoos.

Warnings: canon-appropriate violence/mention of blood, swearing, fluff!!

Sam moves to the middle of the front bench to shuck off his coat as Dean is getting out of the car, and gives it to you with a long arm over the leather. “Can you hand me that blue jacket?”

You have to over-rotate to use your other hand to grab it, keeping your grip tight on your own shirt in the most bastardized version of a sling. Sam, of course, notices.

“You think it’s broken or dislocated?”

A hard chuckle blows out of your nose. “Really hope it’s just dislocated, I’ll tell you that.”

He gives you a sympathetic smile as he throws on the blue jacket and zips it all the way up to his neck. It looks like he’s covering something up and naturally, he is, thin hoodie and t shirt underneath drenched with enough werewolf blood that it’s clinging to his chest almost pornographically. But his face is untouched and he has use of both his arms which is more than can be said for you or Werewolf Shiner Winchester, making him the only reasonable choice to send for gauze and ACE bandages at the closest pharmacy.

Dean stops his grimace-covered stretching just outside the car and opens your door with an outstretched hand as Sam slides into the driver’s seat. “You coming?”

Taking his hand with your good one, you let Dean close the door behind you without any of the normal grumbling about treating you like you’re made of porcelain, in an effort to keep your face neutral around the jolts of pain through your shoulder. Sam pulls out of the motel parking lot ultra-gently like it’s his first day with a learner’s permit the way he does when he knows Dean is watching. It makes you smile to yourself as exhaust dissipates across the cracked blacktop.

Crossing the asphalt with tired strides Dean opens the motel door for you too, and you walk in before him. “Is that yours?” he asks, dropping his coat on the cheap couch and wincing through the removal of his flannel. In the light of the room you’re better able to see his black eye and realize it’s going to take weeks for that to go away, not relishing another inevitable conversation about makeup to sell a G-man cover story. It makes it so much easier for the families of victims to believe you’re legit when none of you look like you’ve been in a bar fight, but getting Dean to believe cover-up is in the name of the greater good is an uphill battle on the best of days.

“Is what mine?”

“The blood you’re covered in like nacho cheese. Dude, if that’s all over the car—”

He deserves credit for trying not to smile as you try to look over your shoulder like a puppy chasing its tail, but he does guide you over to the mirror on the wall to see. He’s right, blood has seeped all down your coat, sticky and shiny like syrup. It’s far too wet to be from near 30 minutes ago when you got in the car. “Fuck, I really like this jacket.”

“You have like 5 just like it taking up space in my trunk; you’ll live. Here, take that off, I’ll stitch you up.” Dean starts rifling through his bag for supplies, rolling some kinks out of his neck.

“It doesn’t even hurt, I just need you to pop my shoulder back in so I can take a shower.”

“I don’t give a shit what hurts, slugger. You’re going to pass out in the tub if you keep up the stuck pig act.”

You roll your eyes and reluctantly try to slide your arms out of the jacket, wincing when you jostle the dislocated arm. Dean takes the sopping coat from you and tosses it into the kitchenette sink from where he stands, the concern coloring his face when you look back at him not reassuring you at all. He puts the floss-threaded needle he’d had in his hand between his teeth and starts pulling on your collar.

“Shoulder first,” you insist, done wiggling and writhing out of clothes before your shoulder is where it belongs.

Dean’s mouth tightens into a firm line but he backs up to give himself enough room to shove, an exasperated hand beckoning you. “Okay, you ready?” he says around the needle, looking like a farmer field medic with a piece of hay.

“Yeah just let me—FUCK,” you grunt when he catches you off guard without any preamble, clutching at the shoulder for a moment until you could take a deep breath. You do a test rotation and are happy at the relative lack of pain, trying not to be frustrated that Dean didn’t warn you so you wouldn’t tense up.

“Shirt off.” Dean’s tone is firm and precise, no room for discussion, as he gets out a lighter and watches intently to heat up the needle.

“Wow, you sure know how to make someone feel special,” you hum, feeling much looser without the shooting pain from your shoulder. The buttons of the flannel come undone relatively easy, but the fabric makes a sickly wet thwack as you snap it down to rest around your elbows.

From his spot at your side, you see Dean’s face contort in surprise and watch as he reflexively reaches out a thumb to rub the skin of your shoulder.

“Ow, what the hell?” you flinch.

“Has this always been here?” he asks, partly amazed but mostly incredulous as his eyes trace the inky lines of the dragons where they wind around your skin.

“I wasn’t born with them if that’s what you mean.” You can tell he’s truly shocked because he doesn’t even react to the jab, just hovers a gentle fingertip over the tattoo. “Earth to Dean? I thought you were all scared about me bleeding out.”

He gulps and clears his throat before covering with a smile that’s a combination of cheeky and shy. “Right, yeah, sorry. Just didn’t realize I was in the presence of The Tattooed Wonder.”

“Hardly, I only have a few. Now start stitching before I change my mind and wait for Sam; his are way neater than yours anyway.”

“Few? Where are the other ones? Girls on the back of your leg that hula when you walk?”

“Nice try.”

He bites his lip before shifting the strap of your tank top off and sponging the back of your shoulder with a wet towel. When he unceremoniously pours a slug of whiskey over the wound you feel it for the first time and hiss, adrenaline and distraction of the joint pain worn off.

“Sorry,” he murmurs, already dragging floss tight on a stitch with his teeth and moving on to the next as quickly as he can, half-humming that old Queen song, “gonna get me on the track, got a dragon on my back.”

You weren’t lying earlier when you’d said that Sam’s stitches were usually cleaner, but Dean is being very careful in a way he usually isn’t—Chicks dig scars, Sammy! Stopped the bleeding, didn’t it?—and you tip your head back to check his work. The extra time he’s taking is to match up the back of one of the dragons, ripped open by a werewolf claw and currently held together by the delicate pinch of Dean’s index and thumb.

It’s tough, but you manage to grab the reins on a smirk. Dean doesn’t notice, too focused on trying to keep the damage to your tattoo at a minimum. The gesture and the concentration are impossibly sweet, even though you’d long accepted that ink injury was inevitable with your lifestyle.

When he’s done, callused fingertips tugging the last knot in place, Dean grabs the whiskey again. “Hold still,” he breathes, close enough you can feel it dance across the skin of your neck, and you hope he can’t see the goosebumps trailing down your arms like ivy. “That should do it. You can grab the first shower, but it’s big enough that some gauze on top for a few days wouldn’t hurt.”

“Thanks,” you answer, startled and annoyed at your own voice when it creaks a touch. The flannel feels gross and heavy with blood, so you pull your arms out entirely and reach to drop it in the wastebasket.

“I can deal with that if you want,” he offers, ruffling the velvet-short hair at the back of his neck. “The coat too. Not the first time getting blood out of clothes.”

“Oh, okay. Uh, thanks. That would be really nice.”

Dean only meets your eyes for the most fleeting moment when he takes it before biting his lip again and nodding to himself. You get to your feet and gingerly slip the displaced straps back over your shoulder, feeling the shift in energy in the room and not knowing what to do with it. Settling for a jocular little punch to Dean’s bicep, you grin at him. “Thanks for putting me back together, doc.”

Sam comes back a couple minutes after you’ve closed the bathroom door with a translucent plastic bag full of first aid supplies. “In the shower?”

Dean looks up from where he’s sitting on the couch and hands Sam the beer he’d already gotten out of the fridge in anticipation, his leg bouncing rapidly. “Yeah. They have everything?”

His younger brother nods and accepts the bottle, taking a sip before laying out his haul on the coffee table and tossing the bag. “You okay?”

He glances up with a quirked eyebrow. “Just tired, man.”

Sam waits a silent beat, giving Dean a chance to spill whatever it is.

“Did you, ah—did you know Y/N’s all inked up like a friggin’ sailor?”

Sam chuckles and runs his tongue over his teeth. “A sailor? Y/N’s only got a few tattoos, dude.”

“You knew?”

“Of course I knew, some people like to learn things about their friends. That’s why you’re acting weird?”

Dean scowls over the glass lip of his beer before taking a long pull. “Not acting weird, sue me for being surprised we’re working with the goddamn Hunter With The Dragon Tattoo.” His voice is low and surly like a kid on the edge of a tantrum even he knows isn’t worth it.

“Y/N can do whatever they want, Dean. It doesn’t matter if you like the tattoos, you’re not their dad.” Sam’s barely keeping the giggle out of his voice, enjoying Dean’s frustration the way only a little brother could.

“No, I don’t—it’s not that I don’t like them,” Dean stammers, the end of the statement fading off as a flush starts rising in his cheeks. He knows he’s said too much and Sam jumps on it.

“Wait—you do like them, don’t you?” He crashes onto the couch, long limbs just enough in Dean’s space to be irritating. “I bet you loooooove knowing about those tattoos—I bet you’re dying to see them.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Dean growls, kicking Sam in the thigh with a socked foot. Sam blocks him and starts laughing hard enough it makes him rattle all over like he’s on a rickety rollercoaster. When he finally catches his breath Dean is still pouting to whatever syndicated sitcom he’d thrown on. Over the tinny TV speakers they hear the shower turn off.

“You know, if you’re feeling shy I could say something for you.” Sam’s grin is ten steps past cheeky, firmly planted in devilish, and he waggles his eyebrows suggestively over top of dimples perfectly sliced into his cheeks.

Dean’s eyes widen like a cartoon and his voice is a gravelly hiss as he grabs a tight handful of Sam’s t-shirt, now crisp with dried blood. “Sam, I fucking swear to God—” but the threat is ineffectual, sheepish panic clear as anything on his face. The glint in Sam’s eye brightens and he twists out of his brother’s grip before he can react, crossing the room in a few huge steps so he’s nearly face to face with you when you open the bathroom door, Dean leaping off of the couch to chase him and slamming into Sam’s back when he stops short.

“Whoa, Jesus—you scared the shit out of me,” you breathe, one hand on top of your fresh t-shirt to still your racing heartbeat, fistful of dirty laundry in the other.

“Just need that second shower, didn’t mean to freak you out!” Sam smiles, warm and light and genuine. “Thanks! Gauze is on the table if you want it.” he says as he slips past you with a friendly and familiar kiss on the cheek, wink that you can’t see to Dean over your shoulder as he closes the bathroom door fast enough that the mirror next to the frame barely even steams.

“Hey, could you—” you start.

“Hey, do you—” Dean says at the exact same time. You both chuckle, and you can’t tell if you’re annoyed or not that the little charge in the room didn’t dissolve while the dried blood on you had rinsed down the shower drain. Dean holds up an open palm to indicate that you should go first.

“Could you cover those stitches for me? The skin is kind of catching on my shirt.”

“Uh, yeah. Definitely.”

Shaking your hair loose and hanging the towel it was in on the back of a kitchenette chair, you sit on the edge of the bed to tug the collar of your t-shirt as far onto your shoulder as you can. Dean snatches some medical tape and a couple 4x4s from the table and sits down next to you, the heat coming off of him soothing the chill of the few remaining drops of water cooling on your skin. “I’m gonna need more slack than that,” he says, trying to be matter-of-fact but not quite covering the gooey softness around the edges that are making his voice more sultry than gruff. You try to pull harder on the collar but it’s already digging into your neck. The hand holding the gauze floats down to Dean’s lap while he rubs his jaw with the other. “Do you—could you just take it off?”

You roll your eyes at him.

“Or live with it, see if I care.” He holds your gaze, and that stubbornness you recognize.

Reluctantly, you move your arm inside the shirt and slip it out from under the bottom hem, squirming in a way that covers your chest while exposing your shoulder. When he sweeps the shirt back you reflexively jolt away from him like you’ve been shocked. “Not being fresh, just don’t want to tape it in,” he murmurs.

“I noticed you put the lines together really straight; thanks for that.”

“Only took an extra second.” He rips another piece of tape off a roll with his teeth and is being so deliberate that now you’re sure he’s stalling for another few seconds to keep touching you but you don’t care; the feeling of his fingertips on your skin is tender and delicious.

“If I knew you were going to be that careful, I would’ve been letting you do my stitches this whole time.”

“Guess I’m just a regular damn seamstress,” he smiles, finally smoothing the last tape and only surreptitiously glancing out of the corner of his eye as you tuck your arm back into its sleeve. “So seriously, what’re the other tattoos?”

“I’m sure you’ll see them soon enough,” you whisper as you stand up, committing to memory the way it makes Dean’s pupils flare as you ease under the scratchy motel sheets on the opposite bed.

Thanks again for reading! If you liked it, check out my Masterlist or send me a request!

Tags: @sams-sass @vxnderlindes @deanwinchesterswitch @akshi8278 @itsjensenanddean @flannellover67 @weepingwillowphoenix @tj-drinks-tea @whatareyousearchingfordean @winchestergirl2 @winchest09 @samwisethegr8 @fawnxng @nurse-sarahrn @lovers-in-japan-reign-of-love @thewinchesterandreidwhore @deanwanddamons @stressedoutkitten @winchestershiresauce @tatted-trina6 @percico-heronstairs @downanddirtydean @moosewinchester-deactivated2021 @queenoftheunderdark @lyarr24 @wonder-cole @sergeantsea

And as always, if you want to be on my taglist, were on the taglist and changed your handle, or I lost track of it, please let me know!

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dollopbed · 3 years

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seasons of love, arthur's pov

It's spring, and Arthur is certain that this is when he loves Merlin the most. When the weather bids him the chance to take them (just the two of them) on hunting trips in the forest for a short moment of escape. When the children in the village braid flower crowns and place a few atop Merlin's head, and Merlin does the same for Arthur (the prince always puts up a fuss, but his heart swells at the gesture). Spring also brings out the woodland creatures, and Merlin is far too clumsy to not stumble into a hornet's nest at least twice - Arthur tends to the stings and bites gladly, for all he sees is another chance to be near his love.

And then the Sun decides to fully emerge from her slumber in the form of a shiny, sweaty summer and Arthur is truly besotted. His fondest memories of this time are of stripping away the layers of chainmail and tunic and responsibility to bathe in the lake with Merlin; the two of them (and often the knights) splashing around and laughing about nothing in particular. Summer brings the heat, and off goes Merlin's neckerchief and jacket, his sleeves rolled up to expose his forearms (Arthur finds himself staring a little too much).

Then all too quickly, the leaves turn red and orange and yellow - but Arthur isn't complaining, because they mirror the warmth he feels when Merlin brings a pumpkin to his chambers for them to carve together. And when he nicks costumes from the storeroom and takes the prince to the lower town to scare the children - the pair always end up snickering too much and spoil their act. But his favourite part (and bless the barmaids) is when he can smell the warm spices of autumn ale on Merlin's breath when they end up a little too close - and he allows himself to wonder, just for a moment, what it would taste like to drink it off Merlin's lips.

Whatever intensity Arthur felt over the year can't possibly compare to the fear that gnaws at him when Merlin leaves to care for his mother during the early winter, when the hail and sleet are the most ferocious. He puts up an aloof stance throughout his servant's absence, but underneath it, anxiety bubbles and festers: what if Merlin realised that he didn't want to be in Camelot anymore, what if he left Arthur?

So when Merlin returns, Arthur always pulls him into his chambers to give him the biggest hug he can, as if he could encase Merlin to be beside him forever. Merlin happily returns it ("I'm not going anywhere, you cabbage head"). The bitter cold usually leads to cancelled training sessions and postponed council meetings - so Arthur and Merlin will stay holed up in the prince's chambers for days on end (but they check-up on Gaius regularly, and Arthur loves the way Merlin beams at him everytime he suggests that they do). The day after Yule, Arthur always gives Merlin a special gift, something he'd been preparing for weeks (sometimes a new coat and boots, or a handmade wreath) while Merlin always forgets and gets him a joke present ("here's a piece of Gwaine's hair in case you miss him").

And after a little while, the flowers return, and they're replaced by the burning Sun, and soon after the falling leaves - but Merlin always remains, always grounds Arthur in the midst of the chaotic world they inhabit. The prince has seen enough wars and fought enough battles to know that nothing can last forever, but mortality didn't seem so bad when he had his love to spend it with.

#merthur #bbc merlin #bbc merthur #merlin #fluff #arthur pov #arthur pendragon #merlin x arthur

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shibasparklez · 2 years

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Magical Flight!

(MERRY CHRISTMAS EVERYONE!!! I hope you enjoy this little drabble I wrote to celebrate the season! @disneymarina @space-sweetheart @ava-ships @rosieshipper )

I was startled awake by the sound of footsteps outside my door. Followed by a loud knock, making me almost fall out of bed. I felt the bed beside me, Thor wasn’t there. Pouting, I assumed that he had moved to his bedroom. Which was understandable, I just wanted to wake up next to him on Christmas morning. I decided that I’d wake him up by jumping on his bed later. Another series of knocks broke me out of my thoughts, and I stumbled out of bed. Throwing on my matching pajama pants that I’d kicked off in my sleep. Once I opened the door, I understood why Thor wasn’t sleeping next to me.

“Merry Christmas!” Thor laughed heartily, music to my ears. “I’ve come to take you on an adventure!”

In the doorway stood my adorable thunder god, decked out in a fluffy red jacket. Opened to show off his chiseled muscles, which were shining in the twinkling Christmas lights I’d hung in my room. I couldn’t hold back my excited squeal, as I jumped on him in a hug. Thor broke character instantly, letting out his familiar deep chuckle. He held me easily in one arm, and I got to take a moment to cup his cheeks. Those stunning azure eyes staring lovingly back at me, I brushed my thumb across his soft cheek. My other hand was running through his beard.

“You have been quite the good girl this year.” He pressed his forehead against me. “Would you like to fly around the city with me? I have found the perfect view.”

“Really? Can you keep calling me that?” I giggled, my chest filling with a light warmer that the ones decorating my window.

“Of course, you’re such a good girl. I noticed you working so diligently to give everyone a comfortable holiday.” He ran his fingers through my hair, kissing my cheek.

“Oh come on, I was just making some cookies. Nothing too crazy!” My cheeks flushed from all the compliments.

“I can see all of the presents you’ve wrapped, darling.” He spoke softly in my ear, sending goosebumps shooting down my arms. “You deserve something special for all your hard work, come with me.”

“Wait, I’m still in my jammies!” I was about to hop off of him, but he held me closer.

“Is that not part of the magic, my dear?” He winked, and I couldn’t help but swoon.

“You’re so romantic!” I gave him a lingering kiss on the lips. “Alright, I’m all yours Mr. Christmas!”

Soon enough, we were on the roof of the Avengers tower. I had to seriously pester Tony to decorate the outside, but once he did I found myself going out at random times at night just to gaze at the twinkling lights next to the shiny windows. There were massive snowflakes lining the landing pad on the very top. Even with no other lights, our path was perfectly visible. Though there was a small line of colorful lights around any elevated surface so there was no chance of tripping. Once we were in the center of the landing pad, I noticed something that made me giggle like crazy. Mjolnir, decorated with reindeer antlers and a little red ball. With big googly eyes right in the center.

“Oh my god, your reindeer!” I wrapped my arms around his shoulders to stop myself from falling over with laughter.

“Of course, what kind of Santa would I be without them?” He picked up Mjolnir, and attached to it was some kind of red bag with a big ribbon on the front. “Now, I have an important question. Would you rather hold on to me and face the sky? Or face the city below? I can hold you safely no matter your choice.”

“So, I’m going in that bag if I wanna face the city right?” I giggled from the image that popped in my head.

“Yes, just so I can keep you extra secure.” He placed me on the floor for a moment, showing off the cute device. “You’ll be tied to me, like a softer harness.”

“Honestly…that sounds like fun. I’ll be like a baby in there. Which you know I…don’t mind.” I blushed, pressing my face against his chest.

Getting in the harness was easy. Pretty soon I was securely inside, my back pressed to my husband’s soft torso. Just as I got comfortable, he began to spin mjolnir rapidly. The wind tousled my hair even more than my sleep did. I let out a squeal when we propelled into the air, gasping when I noticed the city lights below. Glittery and magical, illuminating the softly falling snow impeccably. He flew off of the tower, diving towards the city streets below. I yelled excitedly, like a kid on a roller coaster. My heart glowed as we sped through the New York City streets, the Christmas Eve crowds cheering when they noticed us fly past. I threw a little extra snow in the air, just to hear the people whoop and holler. Thor’s Santa jacket billowed in the wind, much like his jolly red cape. He was such a natural at flying, I was always shocked at how smooth the ride was.

We soared past the massive Christmas tree on Rockefeller Plaza, and I let out another excited squeal. The lights were overwhelmingly beautiful. Reflecting off of the massive red ornament statue close by. A few people were still skating, even so late on Christmas Eve. Thor nuzzled my neck, kissing the shell of my ear. I squeezed the hand by his side, my heart racing from how fast we were flying around the festive city. We dashed through the snow, snuggled up together like two birds of a feather.

Eventually, we slowed down. He flew alongside the Empire State, gently floating to the very top. Where I noticed a cozy display right on the roof. Two blankets surrounded by lights, and some steaming mugs. I covered his face with kisses the moment we landed. He laughed boisterously, falling on top of the blankets and wrapping his strong arms around me. I loved to be surrounded by him like the warmest, most protective blanket. Almost as much as I loved his kiss, that filled my body with an indescribable warmth. The kind that could melt any sadness away like the perfect hot cocoa.

“Thank you so much, baby! For all of this…I’m gonna remember this for the rest of my life.” I laid on his chest, gazing at the falling snow.

“You are very welcome, my dear.” He kissed my forehead. “This is only the beginning of my present for you.”

“Oh my god, I love you!” I kissed him deeply, brushing my tongue against his. “You know I’ve got some fun stuff in store for you too!”

“I love you too, my princess.” He playfully nibbled my ear, just so he could roll me over and pin me to the blankets.

Before we could continue, we were both stopped in our tracks. The sound of bells filled the air, louder than any we’d heard in the past month. In the sky, there was something flying past. What seemed to be a real sleigh was soaring through the clouds. A familiar cry ringing through the air. Both of our eyes widened, as we stared at each other in awe. I pinched myself, I was still awake. Thor’s expression soon changed to a determined grin. I knew exactly what he was thinking. This was going to be a fun night.

#thor #thundersnow #self insert #self ship #self shipping #self insert writing #self ship writing #christmascore #christmas #mine 🐇

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theincuhusbands · 3 years

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Christmas Decorating - (Sam x Reader)

Summary - When the boys and Y/N finally get around to decorating for Christmas this year, nothing will stop Y/N and Sam having some Christmas fun!

Warnings - LONG, Kissing, Snow-violence and Cheesy

Word Count - 1818

Erik passed the last box down the ladder to Matthew as I squealed in excitement “That's the last one, right?! We can start now?!” James laughed a little as he climbed down the attic ladder “Yes Miss, we can start now.”

I had been waiting all of December for this! James had been away on business trips and Erik's business had been busier than ever so if we decorated it would have been without them and so we were all waiting until we could do it together. Which now happened to be Christmas eve.

I desperately grabbed the box of tinsel at my feet and hurried down the stairs. I swooned around the main lobby with idea's running around my head about how I could decorate this already gorgeous mansion and make it the most magical, winter wonderland anyone had ever seen. I was determined to make this the best Christmas I ever could. The boy's deserved the most magical first proper Christmas they could dream of, even if they don’t understand the holiday.

Christmas been a favourite holiday of mine, not the day itself, spending a day with my Father and having to pretend to enjoy it sucked, all while he goes on and on at me about school and my studies and most dreaded of all… ‘my future company'.

However, I loved the season. The snow, the going shopping with friends, the drinking hot chocolate by the fire, the decorating and everything else festive about the season but this year was different, this year I had someone special to spend it with.

I looked up the top of the stairs to see Sam leaning with his arms on the banister, holding a box filled with decorations, staring at me smiling. I shout up at him smiling “Don't drop those! Read the box their fragile!” Sam rolls his eyes as he stands up laughing “Can't read Doofus.”

Sam and I weren't official but we've been on a couple “hangouts” which more closely resembled dates and we'd kissed a couple times. It was pretty well known I liked him and I've walked in on my fair share of conversations I wasn't supposed to which included incessant teasing about his feelings. I had never had someone to share Christmas with like this. I mean I've had Naomi and Suzu to celebrate with but this is different. it feels more like celebrating with family than it ever has with the boys.

Matthew ran down the stairs, brushing past Sam and up to me holding three boxes. “Where'd you want these boss?!

I giggle as I point to one of the tables next to the staircase. “Over there. those are decorations for the tree! So, keep them close too here” Matthew nods like he’s on a mission and puts them down on the table. Erik smiles as he brings down a couple more boxes from the landing. “Is that why we bought that tree? To decorate it?” I nod firmly smiling as I start to wrap some red tinsel around the stair’s railings. Damien smiles at me as he passes more tinsel up to me. “From what you think about Christmas it must be the most amazing time ever.”

James clears his throat, bringing all our attention to him. “Alright, I think it would be more productive if we divide and concur.” I clap my hands in excitement as I back down the stairs. James smiles as he picks up a box. “Erik and I will decorate the dinning room and the kitchen, Matthew and Damien can decorate the main hall and Y/N and Sam could do the outside?” I smile brightly. “Yeah sounds great! I’ll go get my jacket.”

--------

The cold winter night was bitter and chilly as I rubbed my hands together. “You cold?” I turned to face Sam who had a small worried smile on his face as I shook my head. “Let’s get started. Ours is going to look the best” Sam gave me a devilish grin. “You bet it Doofus!”

I’m a little bit shocked at first at how quick Sam is decorating until I hit myself and realised, incubi. Duh. I grab some of the Christmas lights and start wrapping them around a window when I realise Sam is preoccupied setting up some plastic reindeer on the drive. I slowly lean down and grab a handful of snow and shape it into a ball. I aim it ever so carefully and throw it with all my might.

Bullseye.

I snicker as I turn around back at my lights as I hear Sam turn around in confusion muttering to himself “what in the hel-“ I hear the penny drop. “YOU!” His voice dripped with venom and anger as I burst out laughing and start running away. Sam gives chase as we run around the garden throwing half made snowballs at each other laughing and mucking around.

Sam bends down to make a snowball and I take the chance to jump behind some of James’s gardens, hidden by huge bushes. By the time Sam finishes and stands up he’s lost track of me and I’m perfectly hidden by the bushes. I sneak quietly to where he is looking around for me and calling out for me suspiciously. “Y/N? Y/N?”

I take my moment and lunge out the bushes jumping on him and push him to the ground and into the snow. “Got ya’!” I shout giggling as he bursts out laughing. After a couple moments the laugher stops at, we’re left smiling like idiots, looking into each other’s eyes. I start to blush realising I’m straddling him. I sigh leaning in and resting my forehead on his “Merry Christmas Sam”. He smiles sweetly looking down at my lips for a second before letting his eyes meet mine. “Merry Christmas Doofus”.

I gently lean my hands on his chest as I lean in for a short kiss. His lips are as heavenly as always and an amazing contrast of warmth against the freezing cold snow touching my legs and knees. As we finally pull apart, we laugh a little as we can see our breath in the cold air. “I can’t wait till you see what I got you” Sam said smiling affectionately making my heart skip a beat. “Y-You bought me something?” He gives me an amused smile as he laughs making his body shake and making my stomach tie itself up in knots. “What you didn’t think I’d get you something?” I shook my head smiling slightly “never thought about it”.

I stand up as I brush the snow off me. “Come on, we should get inside, it’s really chilly out here” I offer Sam a hand to pull him up which he takes as we start walking around the house to the front door.

As we walk up the porch I jump as I feel Sam’s hand on my waist as he pulls me into him. I must be redder than the tinsel right now. As we walk inside, my jaw drops. It’s gorgeous. The boys have made this so beautiful. The chandelier is decorated with tinsel and there are stockings hung over the railings along with candy canes and decorations set out all over the main hall. “wow…” I breathed out in amazement. It took me a while to realise all the boys were staring at me, or more specifically the hand that was on my waist. “This is amazing guys” I say as I move away from Sam looking at all the decorations. Erik laughs leaning against the bottom post of the railing. “I get that it’s snowy out there but you two are awfully wet.”

I smirk as I think about the snowball fight and I hear Damien’s laugh fill the room. “They’ve been having some Christmas fun of their own.” Matthew looks at me with an eyebrow quirked however all I do is wink back. I turn around and look into the dinning room when I see the tree we picked out standing up in a stand ready to be decorated. “Yes! This is the best bit” I run and hang my jacket up by the fire before running back to the tree skidding in my socks.

The boys crowd around the tree as we decorate it with tinsel, baubles, crackers and everything else. James smiles at me “You really love this Miss, don’t you?” I chuckle as I reach back into the box for the perfect decoration. “what gave it away?” James smiles charmingly at me “the stars in your eyes” I laugh gently placing the decoration on the tree when something catches the corner of my eye. A blur dashing out the room. “I’ll be back. Two moments”

-------

I follow the burr out the room and up the stairs to my room. “Sam?” When I open the door, Sam turns to face me with a small present in his hands. “Hey… I couldn’t wait” He holds it out to me gently as I walk over and take it. It’s not wrapped very well and the green ribbon is a bit crumpled. It’s not hard to see he had to try and wrap this quite a few times but it’s just perfect.

I softly open the wrapping paper to reveal a flat green velvet box. I turn to Sam confused but he just smiles at me nervously “open it…”. I open it to reveal a brand-new shiny chain bracelet with a beautiful dog tag hanging from it. I gasp in shock and in aww looking at it. He bought me a matching dog tag, maybe some people would be insulted but it’s so cute. I hear him breathe shakely as he bites his lip. “So?” I lunge at him again wrapping my arms around is neck attacking him with hugs. “I love it Sam! Thank you!”

I feel him let out a sigh of relief and I hug him tighter. I eventually pull apart from him as I look down at the box. I open it and gently pull the bracelet out and put it on. It’s so pretty and sweet I could cry. I quickly stand up and lean under my bed pulling out Sam’s present. “This is for you” Sam looks at me cheerfully as he takes it -and not so gracefully- rips the paper off to reveal a framed photo of us two in the summer when we went on holiday to Hawaii. Matthew took the photo and I’m jumped up on Sam’s back as we’re eating ice cream. He looks at it and rubs his thumb over the frame before he looks up at me the hint of tears in his eyes.

He stands up suddenly pulling me into a hug so tight it almost smothers me. “Thank you… Y/N…” I smile into him hugging him tighter and breathing in his sent “anytime…”.

#SMTO #Seduce me #Seduceme #seducemetheotome #seduce me the otome #aomaris #sam x reader #samxreader #aomaris x reader #sam anderson #james anderson #erik anderson #matthew anderson #damien anderson #Raestrao #Uzaeris #Zecaeru #Izroul #christmas

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canary3d-obsessed · 4 years

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Lost Tomb Lewks, Part 7

The Warehouse 11 Special

(Masterpost)

Warning: Spoilers for Season 1 of The Lost Tomb Reboot

Rather than intersperse an endless series of slightly-different Warehouse 11 outfits throughout the series, I’m going to cover them all in one long post. Wu Xie spends a LOT of time in various Warehouse 11 uniforms. but at least he doesn’t spend three episodes chained to a pillar; I’m looking at you, Shen Wei.

Out of curiosity, I made a swatch of all of the colors used in these looks. It’s actually a pretty good range. They’re not very exciting colors, but the baseline blue-green color of most of the uniforms is flattering.

Look 31 is the Transport Driver uniform. This starts off being worn by future friend Li Jiale, who becomes a temporary enemy when Wu Xie tasers him into unconsciousness and steals his clothes and truck. Some people can’t take a joke.

This uniform is a rich blue with maroon detailing on the chest pockets and a striped ribbon across the chest. It features a closely-fitted hat and a blue and white arm patch.

The arm patch features a swirly design similar to traditional cloud, bat, and butterfly embroideries; perhaps it’s meant to represent one of the various bugs that will try to kill Wu Xie during his time in the caverns of Warehouse 11.

Look 32 belongs to Bai Haotian, aka Xiao Bai, who is such a delightful character she almost makes up for the other two major female characters in this thing. Not only does she not suffer in order for a man to have feelings about her suffering, but when she is rescued from danger by the man she loves, it does not lead to making out or other intimate moments. So refreshing!

Her uniform is not particularly refreshing, but it is different from Wu Xie’s, and she looks cute in it. This look features fitted dark trousers (it’s hard to tell from the lighting if they are black, green, or blue), a jacket in Pantone 5473C with a collar and pocket flaps in 5477C. Sorry for busting out the Pantone refs but I can only type “green” so many times.

Xiao Bai’s jacket has pleated box pockets over the boobs, which look fine on a person with small boobs. As long as they don’t try to actually put anything in the pockets. The jacket is fitted through the shoulders with a reverse pleat in the center back. She wears it with a white shirt, suitable for writing on.

(More behind the cut!)

Xiao Bai accessorizes this look with pink underclothes that she hides as quickly as possible, while Wu Xie politely avoids looking quickly checks them out.

Look 33 is Wu Xie’s Level 1 Uniform. It’s Pantone 5473C with pointed pocket flaps in 5477C and a white-and-5473C striped band across the chest and back.

It features a close-fitted cap that matches the shirt, and dark cargo pants.

It’s got an inverted pleat in the back and military-style straps on the shoulders. Everything fastens with snaps with shiny black dome covers.

Like all Warehouse 11 indoor uniforms, this has a badge on the chest that’s somewhere between a yellow brass and a green bronze color, depending on how it catches the light. The drivers don’t seem to have these badges.

I actually kind of like Wu Xie in a hat.

Wu Xie wears this uniform with black lace-up work/hiking boots. I don’t know if these are part of everyone’s uniform or if it’s a BYOS kind of place. It’s mostly too dark to get a good look at anyone’s feet.

Look 34 is Wu Xie’s Level 1 uniform with a black tee shirt and socks.

This is a good look for kissing your own biceps and saying “welcome to the gun show, ladies!” lying down under the stars with a girl and talking about constellations, in a nice twist on a classic romance trope.

I normally don’t project ideas about friendship onto strangers who work on or star in TV shows, but I really feel like this camera operator understands me.

Wu Xie accessorizes this look with a water bottle with a picture of his boyfriend on it.

Wu Xie: If you have one Wu baby and one Zhang baby that will provide a new generation for all three of our families. I promise you’ll like Xiao Ge. He’s...very talented.

This look goes well with having a beautiful face and a loving camera operator & director of photography.

I could wish the lighting designer was less fond of green, but the plot demands it, alas.

Xiao Bai’s outfit also goes well with having a beautiful face. Her haircut does, too--it’s super cute and flattering.

Look 35 is Wu Xie’s testing outfit for the first test. It’s his level one uniform, untucked, with dark glasses and fingerless gloves.

And his tongue.

OP did not speed up that gif on purpose; she captures everything at that speed, honest.

Look 36 is Wu Xie’s Level 8 Uniform. When they gave him this, did he think “oh, different uniforms for different levels, I wonder which level Xiao Bai’s uniform signifies? He did not. Neither did OP.

This uniform features a jacket in the green/green color scheme, with two pleated boxy pockets at the waist and one on the right side of the chest. The collar is an open triangle lapel instead of the two-part suit collar featured on Xiao Bai’s jacket - his jacket is tailored more like a work shirt. It’s worn untucked and doesn’t have a waistband. The white-and-green striped ribbon that was over the chest on the level 1 uniform makes an appearance here as tiny tabs on the pocket flaps. He wears a brown button-up shirt underneath.

I gotta say, the costume department really did a great job designing a whole range of uniforms that have repeating motifs, coloring, and detailing, while changing up how everything is put together.

All the uniform variations take me back--WAY back--to when I was a girl scout in the 1970s. My troop mostly wore badge vests or sashes over normal clothes but we all liked to look at the glamorous uniforms in the catalogs.

Actually the girl on the floor looks really sharp. Which is probably why she’s keeping away from the nerds on the left.

Look 37 is Wu Xie’s second test outfit. Yeah, we’re going out of order, to break up the sea of green with some smooth, glowing skin.

Zhu Yilong has nice arms, and whoever designed this sequence thinks so to. Particularly when considering the clothing item Wu Xie puts on over his undershirt.

This lil’ vest would be right at home at International Mister Leather Twill. What on earth is the purpose of a vest with pockets that you wear under an outer shirt with pockets? Other than to give you more time to show off your arms while dressing?

It features black panels on the upper chest and back; one flap pocket closure and one strap pocket closure, a...zipper? down the front? With black fabric on either side.

He wears it under his untucked level one shirt. There is no way anybody wears these vests under their shirts for normal wear - the pockets would keep anything over it from laying flat.

Look 38 is the Supervisor outfit worn by Jia Kezi.

It’s all one color--Pantone 5473C--and has rounded puffy pockets on the chest with rounded flaps, rather than the square ones featured on Xiao Bai’s uniform of the flat chest pockets of the level 1 uniform.

It has a covered placket and a high band collar, with the same close-fitted cap featured in the other uniforms.

He looks really good in this cap, which shows off his beautiful eyes and eyebrows better than his floppy hair, I think. He accessorizes this look with warm-toned skin, a cleft chin and sculpted cheekbones.

Look 39 is Wu Xie’s level 14 uniform, which shows that he’s a director now.

It looks exactly like Director Ding’s uniform.

and, oh hey! It also looks exactly like Bai Haotian’s uniform.

Her entire disguise was to change badges and remove her tie.

Look 40 is the last Warehouse 11 uniform. It belongs to book author/screenwriter/producer Nan Pai San Shu, who gets to wear a brown vest and shirt instead of green & green, and whose badge says he’s Level 18. As befits the creator of this endlessly entertaining world and these delightful characters.

More Lewks coming soon! Including several that are not green!

#the lost tomb reboot #reunion: the sound of the providence #wu xie #warehouse 11 #dmbj #lost tomb lewks #canary3d-original #my gifs #the lost tomb reboot spoilers

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4stars-uswnt · 4 years

Text

Just You, Me, and Our Dogs [Lindsey Horan x Reader]

thanks to @13uswntimagines for requesting this! it was so much fun to write :)

You plop back down on the couch, next to Lindsey, handing her a cup of coffee. Putting your feet on her lap, leaning back into the couch, you take a sip from your own drink.

Although it had been a nice and sunny day in Portland, which was very rare, you and your girlfriend had decided to have a��‘lazy day,’ spending it wrapped up in blankets, bingeing the new season of The Umbrella Academy.

As the episode comes to an end and the credits start to roll, Lindsey picks up the remote, shutting the TV off. The two of you sit in comfortable silence, as your girlfriend massages your calfs and you sip your latte. After a couple of moments, you can feel the blonde staring at you.

“What?” You let out a little laugh.

“Nothing.” Lindsey hums, still looking at you.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

“No reason.”

You raise your eyebrow, sensing she isn’t telling you the truth.

“I’m just so glad you’re here.” She relents, giving you a small smile, and your face softens at her answer. You and Lindsey had recently moved in together after winning the World Cup, now living in her apartment in Portland. Despite playing for the Royals, you decided you would live with your girlfriend int he offseason. And although you and Lindsey had been dating for about two years now, the chaos of the NWSL prevented you from living together until now.

Before you could respond, your service dog, Tucker, jumped up on to the couch and right into your lap. You grunt, as the golden retriever steps on your steps on your stomach, knocking the wind right out of you. Both you and Lindsey laugh at the dog’s actions, as the two of you give him a pet and a little belly rub.

“I’m glad I’m here, too.” You look back up at your girlfriend. “I know Tucker’s happy to be here, too, especially with Fergy to keep him company.” You give your dog a good scratch on the head.

—————

Tucker had been your support dog since you were nineteen. After suffering from anxiety and depression all throughout high school, you and your parents decided it would be a good idea to get you an emotional support dog. Tucker had helped ease your anxiety and provided you with companionship when you felt lonely, ultimately decreasing the number of panic attacks and down days you had.

When you had met Lindsey for the first time, Tucker immediately took a liking to the woman, wagging his tail and jumping up onto her. This had been an important factor for you when you and Lindsey had started dating, as you couldn’t see yourself being with someone who Tucker didn’t like or who couldn’t accept you and your need for a support dog. Luckily for you, not only did your golden retriever take a liking to Lindsey, but she also absolutely adored him.

—————

A couple of minutes had passed of you, Lindsey, and Tucker all just laying on the couch, when you heard a noise coming from below you. Looking down, you and Lindsey notice her beige French bulldog trying to jump up on the couch, wanting to join his family.

“Awww, Fergy! You wanna join us?” Lindsey leans down to pick up her dog, placing him on her lap on top of your legs. After giving Ferguson a couple of scratches behind his ears, Lindsey takes in the scene in front of her, her eyes widening, as a lightbulb goes off in her head.

“Hey.” She says, grabbing your attention. “Let’s go take these guys for a walk. They’re probably dying to get out of the apartment.”

You nodded, agreeing with her, as the two dogs had been cooped up inside all day while you and your girlfriend watched TV. Getting up from the couch, you head over to the door, where you keep both your shoes and the leashes.

“Where do you want to go? The park or around the stadium?” You ask, as you slip on your shoes.

“Let’s go to the park.” Lindsey replies, grabbing the leashes off the hook.

—————

The two of you make your way though Portland towards your favorite dog park, where both Tucker and Ferguson can run off leash. You and your girlfriend walk in silence with your hands intertwined, Lindsey occasionally running her thumb across the back of your hand.

When you arrive at the park, you go to unclip Tucker so he can roam free, but Lindsey stops you.

“Wait.” She grabs your hand.

“What?” You turn to her, confused.

“I have something to show you.” She takes Tucker’s leash from you. “So turn around and close your eyes.” You nod along, following her directions.

Although not facing her, you can hear Lindsey whispering to the two dogs and the notorious crinkle of the treat bag. You bite your cheek, attempting to hide your audible giggle.

“Hey! No peeking!” Your girlfriend warns.

“I’m not! Don’t worry.” Your knees bounce in anticipation, as you wait for Lindsey’s permission to turn around.

With one final whisper to the dogs, your girlfriend finally gives you the go ahead.

“Okay. I’m ready. Turn around and open your eyes.”

You turn around, and as you open your eyes, you gasp at the sight in front of you. Lindsey was down on one knee with Tucker to her right and Ferguson to her left. You noticed the frenchie wearing a bib that said ‘will you marry my mom?’, and your own dog had a beautiful diamond ring balanced on his nose. You let out a watery laugh, smiling at both your girlfriend’s and the dogs’ adorableness.

“(Y/N) (Y/L/N),” Lindsey starts, as you lock eyes with her. “I’m gonna keep this short and sweet because I don’t know how long Tucker can balance that ring.” At that, you both chuckle before she continues. “You have made my life a thousand times better and have made me a better person. You are not only my best friend who I can laugh and dance around with, but you are also the love of my life, the one who I can tell all my secrets to and who I can kiss and snuggle with all day long. I want to spend the rest of my life with you, telling you how much I love you each and every day. So, (Y/N/N), will you marry me?”

You barely even let Lindsey finish before you are nodding and exclaiming, “Yes! Of course I’ll marry you.”

With that, Lindsey grabs the ring off of Tucker’s nose and pulls you into a hard passionate kiss. Your lips dance together, as you both put all your love into each other, marking the start of the rest of your lives.

As air becomes necessary, the two of you separate, and Lindsey steadies your shaky hand, as she slips the ring onto your finger. After pecking your fiancée’s lips once more, you kneel down to Tucker and Ferguson, giving them some love.

“You two knew about this? Hmm?” You give them both a good scratch, as they are excitedly running around you and Lindsey, wagging their tails with their tongues hanging out.

“It took me forever to teach Tuck how to balance that ring.” Lindsey admits with a fond smile.

You turn back to your fiancée, as the two dogs finally take off running freely around the park. Pulling Lindsey closer to you, your hand cups her cheek.

“I love you so much.” You whisper, your foreheads coming together.

“I love you, too.” She mumbles against your lips, as she brings you in for another kiss. You bury your face in the crook of her neck, enjoying this moment with your fiancée. Picking your head up, you look at Lindsey and smirk.

“I hope you know that after that proposal, we absolutely have to include Tuck and Fergy in our wedding.”

Lindsey chuckles, placing a kiss on your forehead.

“Whatever you want, (Y/N/N).”

—————

Liked by malpugh, lavellerose, christenpress and 78,302 others

yourusername: I get to spend the rest of my life with sirfergyhoran... you’re cool too lindseyhoran10

tagged: lindseyhoran10, sirfergyhoran, tuckertheretriever

- - - - -

uswnt: Congratulations (Y/N) and Lindsey! (Tucker and Ferguson too!)

lindseyhoran10: you and me (and our dogs) forever 🐶🐶🤍♾️

↳ emilysonnett: **furever

malpugh: love you two (and I mean tuck and fergy)

alexmorgan13: Congrats bub

↳ kelleyohara: Al, our kid is all grown up 🥺

christenpress: All love ❤️

alikrieger: This is everything. Congratulations you guys!

emilysonnett: Are dogs invited to the wedding? Asking for a friend...

↳ lavellerose: ^^ Wilma would love an invite

↳ ashlynharris24: So would Logan and Storm

↳ alexmorgan13: Kona and Blue too!

↳ christenpress: and Morena :)

—————

Liked by emilysonnett, tobinheath, lavellerose and 64,349 others

lindseyhoran10: We’re getting married (!!!!)

P.S. thanks for the help sirfergyhoran and tuckertheretriever

tagged: yourusername, sirfergyhoran, tuckertheretriever

- - - - -

uswnt: This is goals (pun intended)

yourusername: you’re my favorite person ❤️🤍

tobinheath: All grown up. 🥺 This is so special. Congrats lil sis and (Y/N/N) ❤️

emilysonnett: WOOHOO!! Mrs. Lanessi has a nice ring to it

malpugh: meep meep meep 💍

alikrieger: YAY congrats you two

kelleyohara: This is everything 🔥

lavellerose: Where are your pictures of the dogs? I guess the leather jacket and shiny ring make up for it.

ashlynharris24: She put a ring on it! 💍💍🔥🔥

julieertz: 🥳

sammymewyy: My favs are finally gonna get married 😍

#uswnt x reader #uswnt imagine #uswnt imagines #lindsey horan x reader #lindsey horan imagine #lindsey horan imagines #uswnt #lindsey horan

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sodalitefully · 3 years

Text

Santa Slash is coming to town...

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

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

🎄🎄🎄🎄

Jingle bells.

Fucking jingle bells.

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

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

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

And then there was this weirdo.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey, wait!”

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

Slash offered him a bright, beguiling smile.

"What do you want for Christmas, Axl?"

-----

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

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

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

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

"Hey, uh, you doing okay?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-----

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

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

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

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

Dear Santa Claus,

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

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

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

-----

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Tears started to well up in Duff's eyes.

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

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

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

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

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

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

🎄🎄🎄🎄

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

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mythicalsecretsanta · 3 years

Text

12 Days of Christmas... Almost (E)

This gift is for: Cal (AKA @mythicalamity) Surprise! Keeping this secret from you for the last month wasn’t easy! Thank you for being the kindest, most loving friend I’ve ever had in this fandom and for being a pretty spectacular person in the real world as well. Merry Christmas, Cal! From your Secret Santa, @fanbabble

Link to AO3, or read below:

The Holiday season was in full swing at Mythical, as much as it could be at least. The virus had put quite a damper on festive activities across the world and Myth Ent was no exception. There were lights strung up and a Christmas tree, but there would be no company Christmas party this year, no cookie exchange, no getting together at each other’s homes for dinner parties or gift swaps. The mood in the office was a little low and Link found himself looking for ways to encourage positivity and the good feelings of the season. That’s why when Stevie suggested a secret santa gift exchange, Link took the idea and ran with it. Employees would play secret santa leaving their secret giftee presents for the 12 days leading up to Christmas. Not only would this game bring a bit of fun into the office, but it could also be done safely as social distancing was a literal part of the rules. You couldn’t reveal your identity to your giftee until the final day of the exchange. It was perfect!

Rhett was less than excited about the prospect. He complained to Link about not wanting to participate. He was nervous he wouldn’t know what to get the person he chose or how to keep the secret. Rhett’s enneagram three-ness was getting in the way of him enjoying himself again. He was worrying too much about impressing the person he got, rather than letting himself relax and have fun with the idea. Link finally convinced his friend to participate.

“How would it look if one of the owners of the company didn’t play along?”

“Fine. But if my gifts turn out to be duds and ruin someone’s Christmas it’s your fault!” Rhett said as he stood to join Link and walk down the hall to the Mythical kitchen for the name exchange.

Chase mixed the names of everyone in a Santa hat. The in-office folks would be in one drawing and the staff who were working virtually would draw amongst themselves. In all there were about 15 names in the hat that Chase held shut in his grasp. The group took turns reaching their hands in to pick a slip of paper with their giftees name written on it. The PAs went first, followed by the camera men, then the directors, followed by Chase, Stevie, and finally Rhett and Link.

Rhett stuck his hand into the Santa hat. His gaze was trained on the little opening.

“No peekin’!!” Link smacked his arm and scolded him.

“I’m not! Besides There’s literally only one name left in the hat, Link.”

The kitchen filled with the crew’s laughter.

“Can’t exactly pick and choose who I want, man.”

Rhett glanced at his friend and then looked at the little slip of paper. The apples of his cheeks became more obvious as a small smile spread across his face. He grasped the paper close to his chest and then tucked it into the pocket of his jeans.

Everyone in the kitchen celebrated the exchange with a cupcake whipped up by the Mythical Kitchen and then retreated back to their personal space to finish up the day’s work.

Before the office door was even fully shut Link was in Rhett’s space.

“Who’d ya get?”

“What?! I’m not telling you. It’s not fair.” Rhett sat down in his office chair and opened his laptop.

“Come on, Bo. Tell me. I got…”

“STOP” Rhett put his hands up to his ears as if to block out what Link was about to reveal. “I don’t wanna hear it. Let’s do this right. Keep it a secret.”

“Since when do you care about keeping this kinda stuff secret? You usually can’t wait to tell me everything and anything,” Link was teetering on the fine edge between annoyed and amused.

“Well this year is different. If this is one of the only ways the company gets to celebrate then I wanna do it right.”

“Fine,” Link huffed. He flopped down on the leather couch and draped his arm over his eyes. “You don’t want to tell me, that’s your business, but don’t come begging for gift ideas when you come up dry.” And with that healthy dose of snark the smaller man settled in for an afternoon nap.

The next day Link walked into their office and threw his jacket over the back of the gray chair that sat by the door. He put his backpack on the floor by his desk and was just about to head to the office kitchen for a cup of coffee when he noticed a box sitting by his desk lamp. He picked it up and examined it.

“Dang, my santa must get here early.”

It was only 7 AM and Link had just arrived to an empty building. The box was wrapped in shiny green paper and tied with an elegant red bow. He turned it over in his hands looking for some kind of tag or label. When he found nothing, Link slipped the ribbon from the package and pulled off the lid. Inside was a perfect golden pear tucked into a pillow of soft fabric. Link wasn’t sure what to do with the gift so he sniffed it to confirm it was a real piece of fruit. He lifted the pear out of the box and saw that a small note was hidden underneath. He held the pear in one hand and opened the slip of paper with the other.

“On the first day of Christmas,

My true love gave to me,

A partridge in a pear tree”

-You may be a “sweet peach” but I think we’d make a great “pear” Love, Your secret admirer

Link read over the note three times before he could totally comprehend what it said. He turned it over to look for any kind of identifying mark or signature. There was nothing to be found. He blushed hard and tucked the note into his pocket. It had been a long time since he had had anyone in his life, much less a Love, but he knew no one at Mythical felt that way about him and even if they did it would be totally unethical to pursue anything. Link was sure it was just some kind of joke by one of the writers and tucked the green box into his backpack before heading off to get his coffee.

When Rhett came in half an hour later, he was all nervous energy and talking 90 miles a minute. He said it was because he had almost gotten into a car accident on the way in. He had found his Secret Santa gift sitting on the back of the toilet in the bathroom and showed it to Link.

“It’s gotta be Jordan, man,” Rhett said as he held out the bag for Link to inspect, “Who else would give me a bag of cotton candy?”

Link peeked inside the gift bag and said, “Seems kinda obvious, but it’s possible.” He couldn’t help but let his thoughts wander back to the little green box he had received and the love note that it contained.

“Earth to Link,” Rhett took the bag back and set it on his desk. “You alright man?”

Link shook his head to clear his mind and refocus on the man before him. “Oh yeah, sorry. Must need more coffee.” He held up his empty mug and headed toward the office door.

As he reached for the doorknob, Rhett asked quietly, “Did you get your first gift yet?”

Link paused and laughed without looking back, “Yeah, pair of socks. Womp womp,” then he headed out the door.

Over the course of the next few days, Link continued to receive themed gifts from his Secret Santa that left him giddy and baffled at the same time. The first two were silly, Turtle and Dove chocolates for Day 2 and three fried chicken legs for Day 3. They were both accompanied by notes that talked about how much the gifter liked Link and they were both signed “Love, Your secret admirer.” Link still wasn’t sure what to make of the declarations, but he played along and let himself feel special for the moment. Even if he was still convinced it was all a joke. Until Day 4 that is.

On Day 4 Link walked into the office late to find a small book tied up with a ribbon. “Native birds of the National Parks” The gift was incredibly thoughtful and one that he would definitely use on future adventures. A folded piece of paper was tucked inside the chapter about Denali National Park. It read,

“On the fourth day of Christmas,

My true love gave to me,

Four calling birds”

- Bird calls are beautiful, but the idea of calling you mine is even better. Love, Your secret admirer

Link opened the book again to the page about the birds of Denali. There was only one person he had ever told about wanting to visit the park covered in glaciers and snow. Rhett. Could his secret admirer be Rhett? Link’s head swam with the possibility.

He had been in love with his best friend for most of his life, but he had kept it hidden away out of fear of losing the one person in the world who was most important to him. Surely, Rhett was not the person who was his Secret Santa. Link felt a burst of warmth spread across his chest as he let himself entertain the idea for a moment. What would it be like to finally feel those arms around his body? To finally kiss Rhett’s lips? To own his heart as well as his friendship?

As he stood there lost in his own thoughts, the man in question came barreling into the office. Link stuffed the book into his desk drawer and turned quickly to face his friend.

“Hey, Rhett, how’s it going?”

Link did his best to maintain his cool. He watched his friend as he moved about the office getting settled for the day. He assessed his behavior for any clues or signs that he might be the “Secret Santa Secret Admirer.”

“Pretty good. I added some new reps to my workout and now my abs are killing me.” Rhett rubbed his hand across his stomach. His t-shirt pulled taught and drew Link’s eye to the spot. Link felt his breath catch from the promise of what was underneath. His eyes roamed over the broad chest and thick arms. The way the shirt sleeves hugged Rhett’s biceps was criminal. Link knew he would have to control his thirst better if he hoped to get any hints about what role Rhett actually played in all of this. He cleared his throat and got a hold of himself.

“What time did you get here this morning?” Link asked as casually as he could. He fiddled with the monitor on his computer to appear slightly uninterested in Rhett’s response.

“What? Just now. You saw me walk in.”

“I thought maybe you came in and left again.”

Rhett turned and opened his laptop. He busied himself with things on his desk while it booted up.

“Nope. Just rolled in.”

“Oh cool,” Link paused before adding, “How’s your secret santa going?”

Rhett reached for a pen and knocked his coffee mug off balance spilling yesterday’s brown stuff over his desk and onto his lap.

“Shit!”

Link jumped up and grabbed the roll of paper towels he kept by his desk. He pulled off a handful and held them out to Rhett.

“Can you clean this up for me, Buddyroll? I have to go over to wardrobe and find some different pants to wear or I’ll smell like an old coffee pot all day.” Rhett grabbed the towels and dabbed at the wet spot that stretched across his thighs.

“Yeah, go ahead. I got this.” Link began to mop up the spilled coffee as Rhett headed out the door. His interrogation would have to wait for another day.

Days 5 and 6 were once again oddly funny gifts. If Rhett was the secret admirer it would make sense because he was the funniest person Link knew. A lifetime of laughter with Rhett had been the tradeoff for hiding the fact that he loved the man immensely. The idea that his love might be returned was more than Link had ever let himself hope for.

The notes included with the gifts were just as tender as the previous ones. Day 5’s onion rings were accompanied by a slip that described Link as “more valuable than a golden ring” and day 6’s half dozen eggs had a note that read “You are a good egg, who makes my heart happy.”

Link enjoyed the sentiment, but nothing struck him as particularly suspicious. Day 7 was, however, a game changer.

That morning as Link walked past the dark studio a glimmer caught his eye. He set his backpack and Jade down and walked onto the GMM set where he found a string of origami paper birds strung together on a piece of gold silk ribbon. The swans were hanging across the back of the set from wall to wall. There must have been at least 50. Each bird’s wings was dipped in silver glitter and twinkled in the low light giving the set a magical air. Link stood back and took in the beauty.

When he looked closer he saw each swan was made of sheet music. Link held one small bird in his fingers gently and examined it. He would recognize those chords anywhere. It was Merle. These paper swans were made with sheet music of Merle Haggard’s song, “Always Wanting You.”

“This has to be a gift,” Link whispered to himself.

Link held his breath, afraid if he moved he would scare away the one idea he wanted to be true most in the world. That his secret santa was not only Rhett, but that the man was in love with him as well.

A larger piece of paper flapped at the end of the string of birds. Link grabbed it and saw that his name was indeed on the front of the folded slip. He opened it and read:

“On the seventh day of Christmas

My true love gave to me

Seven swams a swimming”

- Like Merle said, “Always wanting you, but never having you makes it hard to face tomorrow.” Love, Your Secret Admirer

Link couldn’t believe what he was reading. This had to be confirmation that Rhett was his secret admirer and secret santa. Jade sniffed at his shoes as if she were looking for the answer to a question he didn’t know. Link gently took the chain of birds down, gathered his things, and headed back to his office.

When he opened the door, he was surprised to see the big man sitting at his desk already. He was speaking loudly on the phone about a new project they were working on.

“No, damn it. I don’t want to cut that part! I purposely included it to help the flow of the story.”

Rhett’s voice bounced off the brick walls. His tone was harsh. Link thought better of questioning him right now and tucked the birds into his backpack. He sat back on the couch and opened his laptop for the day. Jade snuggled into Link’s side and he petted her head mindlessly. His thoughts were only of Rhett. As he waited for his computer to boot up, Link watched Rhett.

“It has to be him. Who else would use Merle?” Link thought to himself, “Oh you’re being an idiot. Everyone knows you love Merle Haggard, dummy. It could be anybody.”

Link sunk down into the leather cushions and sulked. Not knowing for certain was exhausting. Only 5 more days to figure out this mystery. He glanced down at the paper swans one more time and smiled softly.

Day 8 brought a bottle of chocolate milk and a note that read, “You’re the milk to my cookie”

Link drank it in front of Rhett at lunch to see if he would get a reaction. Nothing. Well, with the exception of the way those green eyes sparkled when he belly laughed at a joke or the way Rhett put his hand on Link’s back as they left the office to head to record an episode of Ear Biscuits. Link noticed those things, but he couldn’t be sure if they were a reaction to the milk or to being close to Link in general.

Link had caught Rhett in a lingering gaze more than once since the Seven Swans gift. And when they were alone together it felt like a spark was fizzing between the two of them. Something was going on, Link was sure of it. He just needed a little more proof before he could confront Rhett. His friendship was entirely too valuable to risk on an assumption.

On day 9, Link climbed into the driver’s seat of his car. He reached down to grab his sunglasses and was surprised to find something extra resting on the console. It was an old school cassette tape. Just like the kind he and Rhett used to exchange in high school. They would spend hours making the tapes and then driving down the back roads listening to their creations and singing at the top of their lungs. If he was honest, those times were when he first fell in love with Rhett.

Link flipped the cassette over in his palm. On the outside of the case where the album art would usually be, was his name. Link immediately recognized it as Rhett’s handwriting. He opened the case and found a piece of paper folded in fourths tucked inside. It read:

“On the ninth day of Christmas

My true love gave to me

Nine ladies dancing.”

- I kept trying to find a funny pun for this day, but all I could focus on was singing these songs with you as we drove down the highway in North Carolina. I’ve tried to hold out to the end of the 12 days, but this secret is an old one and I don’t want to keep quiet anymore. If you feel the same, find me in the office at work and tell me. If not just toss this cassette in the trash and pretend it never happened. Love, Your Secret Admirer

Link was quiet for a moment and then, “Rhett! It’s Rhett! He loves me!” Link yelled at nobody in particular. Just saying the words out loud made him feel less like it was all a dream and more like it was real life. He threw his things into the passenger’s seat. In his flustered state he tried to check the time on his sunglasses and put his phone on his nose. He shifted into reverse and sped down the block.

Link’s heart was pounding in his chest. He was breaking every speed limit on the way into Burbank, but he did not care. Let a cop try and stop him now, nothing could keep him from getting to Rhett. Link pulled into the parking lot in record time and he bolted out of his car and through the studio doors. He was running at full speed back to the office he shared with Rhett. His Rhett. Link took a deep breath and pushed the door open.

The office was empty. Where was he? Link knew he didn’t pass him on the way through the building. He stood still for a moment and wrung his hands trying to think of what to do next. Just when he was starting to worry that Rhett had panicked and ran, he heard footsteps coming down the stairs of their loft.

Link watched as Rhett appeared slowly, first feet, then legs, torso, and finally that glorious head of hair.

“Link…”

Rhett barely got the word out before the smaller man was launching himself across the office and into his arms. He melted into the embrace and pulled Link tighter against him. They took just a moment to look into each other’s eyes before their lips met. The kiss was strong and full of promise. Link opened his mouth to deepen the kiss and the passion kicked in. Rhett lifted Link up with his hands under the smaller man’s thighs and carried him to the couch.

They pressed heated kisses into skin and hair. Marking their love on the other’s body wherever they could find purchase. Hands roamed pulling hair and grabbing biceps. And when Rhett laid Link down on their couch and pressed his body to the cradle of Link’s hips there was no denying that both men were hard with desire already.

Link gasped with the sensation of being so close to Rhett. The feeling of his hard cock pressed against Rhett’s made his head swim and he pulled back to catch a breath. Rhett took the opportunity to say something he’d been holding in for decades.

“I love you. I love you. I love you.”

Each declaration was punctuated with a kiss. Link’s collar bones, his neck, his temple.

Link pulled Rhett close and whispered into his ear, “I’ve loved you my whole life.”

It was all the permission Rhett needed. He worshiped Link’s body and rocked against him until they were both finishing in their jeans like teenagers. Sticky and satisfied the pair laid together on the couch exchanging lazy kisses and gentle touches. Trying to make up for all the lost time they denied themselves.

Link was half asleep and half in awe of the way Rhett looked. He laid silently and listened to Rhett as he said, “I can’t believe it worked. I thought for sure you’d throw the cassette away.”

Link ran his fingers through Rhett’s curls gently.

“You doubted me? Haven’t you figured it out yet, Bo? All you have to do is be the brave one and I’ll follow your lead.” He placed a kiss on Rhett’s tshirt right about his heart. “Thanks for being the brave one.” Rhett kissed the top of Link’s head and grunted in affirmation.

Link snuggled into Rhett’s chest and closed his eyes. Just as he was about to doze off the smaller man popped up and looked Rhett in the eye.

“Don’t think just because you love me, you’re getting out of giving me gifts. I have three days left and I want my secret presents.” Link flashed his crooked grin and poked at Rhett’s side.

Rhett let out a booming ho-ho-ho laugh before pulling Link back down against his chest.

“You can have anything you want, Link. Diamonds, rubies. I don’t need any presents though because I’ve already got the most valuable gift of the season… you.”

#mythical secret santa 2020 #type: fic #rating: E #gift swap #rhink #submission

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stardancerluv · 3 years

Text

Gotham Lockdown 2020

Part 18

Summary: Love & surprises abound in Sionis’s buildings leading up to Christmas.

Arthur’s Note: After the some of the angst of At War and when they first met, as the writer it is nice returning to Gotham Lockdown 2020. This is where reader and Roman have come so far and still have a lot head of them like the grenade but that is still far off. This is nice and fluffy. I dedicate this to chapter to an amazing person and reader of my stories. Thank you for being awesome. (This is a take on your request!) lyrics from How You Look Tonight by Frank Sinatra in italics at the end!

Roman rolled over in bed sighing. He had slept incredibly well after the frosting fight. You were certainly his little minx. Remembering, how your little tongue felt on his throat as you licked away some of the icing he had drawn there. He stretched, and a warm sense of contentment wash over him. Turning his head, he smiled as he saw your soft sleepy face near his on the pillow.

How had he gotten here, he mused for a moment. Dark violent, memories prickled at his mind. He could remember the people he dispatched people with Victor. He remembered the empty smiles, his cold bed. Now, everything was different. That made him happy.

Sure, he still killed from time to time, but with much more restraint. He had a solid empire in Gotham despite the silent killer that was still tormenting the world but he felt stronger about his place in the underworld of Gotham.

He went through these changes all because Victor had fucked or perhaps it had been destiny that had brought you hand cuffed to a chair downstairs. He could still recall how that beautiful wrap dress laid on your body.

Smiling, reaching up he brushed some hair from your cheek. He bit back a chuckle so as to not wake you. A smudge of green frosting laid on your cheek how had be missed that.

He sat up and carefully hung over you, bracing his hands on either side of you. He honestly couldn’t resist this. He bent down and easily licked what remained off.

“Roman?” You voice was deep and sleepy.

“Yes.” He chuckled. “I had missed a bit of frosting.”

You blinked and smiled. “I thought you had found it all.”

“I did too.” He rose an eyebrow playfully. “But, I should check. We don’t want you being sticky.”

Soon giggles filled the bedroom, the inspections turned into giggles. The two of you kissed, tickled and cuddles till you both were laying at angle across the bed.

You swallowed your breaths hard. “It’s no fair, you didn’t have as much frosting on you.” You pouted.

Roman raised himself on his elbow as he braced his cheek in his hand as he looked down at you. “I’ll have change that next time.”

“Yes you better mister.” You smiled.

“Today is very important.” He said, for first time that morning he sounded very serious.

You pressed a kiss on his upper arm. “Oh?”

“Hey that tickles. I was saying today is important. Don’t distract me with kisses.” He had tried to not smile and be serious but it wasn’t working.

“I thought that was my job as your fiancée was to distract you.”

He smirked. “Could be, I didn’t read the small print on what your job entailed.”

“Roman! You are supposed to read that! It’s crucial.” Giggling, you buried yourself into his chest.

He smiled. “I better go and read that right now.” He pretended to get out of bed and you pulled him back.

“So tell me sir, why is today important?”

“We have to put the star on the tree.”

“Oh yes! We need that up before Christmas next week.”

He nodded. “Yes! But also....” He added the silence to be mysterious. “And Victor and I are hosting a small dance part for the four of us downstairs in the club.” He loved how your eyes lit up.

“Oh Roman, that sounds amazing. I will have to get all dressed up.”

He smiled. “You better. I want to see how you were when you get dolled up for one of my meetings.”

Your eyes grew even larger. “Oh, that has been like forever.” You smiled even bigger. Your eyes glowed happily. “I remember how nervous I was. I wanted to look so good.”

“You did. I think the deal sealed since Killer Croc could not take those lizardy eyes off you.”

“Well,” you said filled with a smug air. “There is no one like me in the sewers.”

“No there certainly is not.” He bent down and kissed you, loving how one of your fingers laid on his cheek as he kissed you.

******

“Baby, you should let me do it. I am alot taller afterall.” Roman chuckled.

“Oh? Are you? Right now I beg to differ.” You stood proudly on the top of the three step stool with your hands on your waist. The star under one arm.

Roman came over and was shorter but not by incredible amount. “Oh! You are so tall, what am I am to do?” He chuckled. He held a hand over his heart pretending to be in anguish.

Smiling, you climbed back down from the step stool. Once again, Roman towered over you as you stood before him. “There you are, perfect and at the wonderful height where I fell hard for you.” He kissed the top of your head.

“Here you go.” You giggled and handed him the star.

You watched as he effortlessly out the star on top.

“Is it straight?”

Grabbing the mug of hot chocolate the two of you shared, you backed up. You tilted your head from side to side. “A little over to the right.”

He moved it and rose his eyebrows.

“Now just a breath to the left.”

“And now?”

“Perfect.” Putting down the mug, you met him as he climbed down.

He wrapped his arms around you and looked up at the tree. “It looks great.”

You smiled. “It does.”

He smiled. “Want to see something special?”

You were intrigued. “Sure.”

He led you over to the where your winter coats hung and your boots. “We got to out these on for a moment.”

Holding your hand you slipped on your boots and then he did the same when you finished.

*****

“Roman’s its so cold.” You cried as the snow swirled around you. Your one hand dug into the pocked into your coat while your free hand still held his.

“Only another moment.”

The sun had disappeared the icy air held onto the snow and blew through the air.

“Ok here we are.” He stood behind you, laying his hands on your shoulders. He pointed.

You saw the twinkling of Christmas lights twinkling through Gotham. It looked like Gotham had become its own Christmas tree with lights. Everyone, despite the lockdown had strong holiday spirit.

“This is lovely Roman.” You shivered despite warming at this sweet moment.

He pulled you close. “I will always try and make this special for you. You made feel the real magic of the season.” He whispered.

“Oh Roman.” You teared up but then you sighed and your lips met.

******

You were smoothening your stockings when Roman in a tux, leaned in the doorway and made you gasp. He whistled. You slipped into your shiny black heels and went over to him.

“Look at you!” You ran your hands up the black jacket. “How did you ever?”

He smiled. “I have my ways.” He looked you up and down. “As lovely as ever.”

You flushed. “I am not used to this. But it feels good.” You smiled.

“Once, we’re back where we were I am showing you off as much as I can.”

You pushed him. “I’m just me.”

“Yes, which is a knock out. Alright, let’s get this dance party started. I think Victor has brought down Doll-Face.”

“Alright! Let’s go!”

*****

He interlaced his fingers with you. Loving, how your perfume filled the air of the elevator. An eagerness filled him.

The elevator with a ding announced its arrival at the club. He brought your hand up and kissed your knuckles. “Go on into the club, let me get us a drink so it feels like old times.”

“Ok!”

He hung back and watched. He was happy that Victor was already there and the music was giving a good beat to the place.

Squeals, giggles and voices reached levels that the club had not heard in months. You had rounded the corner, Doll-Face and five of your closest friends were there.

Sticking back to the shadows, he went to the bar and began making the drinks for all of you. He eyed, the cheat sheet his main bartender had sent him a few nights ago. Before that he had only had known how to make his drink and yours, and made a poor version of Victor’s though thankfully the man usually drank a beer so he was easy.

There was a click of heels and he out down the Amaretto bottle because your arms were around his middle and he could barely breath in the best possible way. “You’re welcome baby.”

“Roman! I...I”

He turned to face you. “Go have fun.” He loved seeing how bright your eyes were and the wide grin across your face. “After putting up with me all these months and well this entire situation, you deserve to dance and drink with friends.”

You went up on your tip toes and pressed a kiss to his lips. “You’re the best.” And then you fluttered off.

He only had to remake one of the drinks before he brought them out to you and the girls. He was also proud of himself that he had not spilled any of the drinks, that tray had been heavy.

He nodded and smiled as the girls once again thanked him for doing this. He was able to fend off some enthusiastic hugs. Despite them all being tested twice, the only girl he wanted to hug was his own. But seeing all their happy faces was nice. His club had been empty for far too long.

Smoothening, his suit jacket he went over and checked on Victor. “Thanks again for doing this.” He leaned against the DJ wall.

Victor smiled. “Nothing is too good for the girls. It was a shame Doll-Face didn’t have any friends we could invite.”

Roman, looked at him. “You can’t be completely surprised.”

Victor shrugged and nodded. “That’s the price of being the best female assassin in Gotham.”

Roman nodded. “At least, she became good friends with my girl.”

“Yeah, those two they are always plotting.” Victor chuckled as he cued up the next few songs.

“And you help them sometimes.” Roman quipped.

Victor scratched the back of his head. “Only sometimes.” He smiled.

*****

You felt as light and as bubbly as the champagne that Roman brought out later. This was so wonderful. They may have always been a pain from time to time; especially when they found out Roman was your boyfriend. Though they were all still friends and right now dancing to the music was exactly what you needed.

Clinking of heels and glasses and laughter bounced off the walls. The club had only, know your four voices these last few months. But now, with all of you dancing and having a good time. It felt for a brief moment like it had before the pandemic.

youtube

Roman, you saw and smiled had gone up to one of places where he had liked to go and watched the action. “Woo!” He called out. “Who is having a good time?”

The girls and you erupted in cheers. You even screamed up an, I love you. More squeals filled the air as he moments later, he opened a bag of confetti and it billowed and rained down on all of you.

You unpinned your hair. You were not used to the dancing or all that it entailed. It had felt like old times catching up with them about how their lockdown had been going.

Hushed gasps and smiles were around the table as you all took a moment to catch your breathes when you held out your hand that held the elegant ring gave you. After this was all over they promised to give you the engagement party to remember.

*****

It was around three in the morning, when you finally collapsed onto the sofa. Every part of you ached but you were happy. Contently, you threw an arm over your eyes.

Hearing his footfalls you watched from under your arm as Roman came around the sofa opening his suit jacket before settling beside you, laying your legs in his lap. His hands gently rubbing your calves.

“Have a good time?” He smiled, giving you a sidelong glance.

You lowered your arm. “I am. That was amazing.”

“I’m glad. I think Doll-Face had a good time too.”

You blew some hair from your eyes. “I hope so.”

You sighed, with Roman’s aversion to germs and sometimes annoyance at how they sometimes treated you, you were really happy that he did this tonight.

“How did you manage all of this?”

He chuckled. “Being one of the most powerful man in Gotham, gives you the skills to surprise your girl and her friends for an unexpected dance party.” He smirked.

“I knew there was a reason, I loved you.” You smiled and sitting up, nestling closer you rested a hand on his shoulder.

He chuckled. “Baby?”

“Yes?” You didn’t move, you were very comfy.

You felt him shift where he sat and the soft voice of Frank Sinatra filled the penthouse. “Dance with me?”

You lifted your head and smiled. “Of course. I was hoping the last dance of the night was with you.”

*****

Yes, you're lovely, with your smile so warm

And your cheeks so soft

There is nothing for me but to love you

He held you close as Sinatra’s words swirl around the two of you.

youtube

Smiling, at you took a tiny curl of confetti that had nestled close to one of your cheeks. It was almost like a flower clinging to you.

You smelled as sweetly and as beautiful as you did when the two of you had headed downstairs.

With each word your tenderness grows

Tearin' my fear apart

And that laugh, wrinkles your nose

Touches my foolish heart

He met your eyes. “Y/N, I am still learning all this romantic stuff even after all this time.” He grimaced. “It just was never part of me till, I met you.”

“Roman!” You hugged him tight. “I wouldn’t change anything about you.”

He smiled, he was a lucky man. “That’s why you’re my girl. But this,” He twirled his finger. Something, he had used to do so often, those little things one forgets when in a lockdown. He was reminded of when he first had done it, it he could order you a drink. “this song speaks of some of the love I have for you.”

Your eyes met, your eyes twinkling in the light from the Christmas tree as you danced and continued to move as one, made him one happy man.

@darling-i-read-it @spn-obsessed-dean @vintagemichelle91 @xxxeatyourh3artoutxxx @ewanfuckingmcgregor @zodiyack @angel98624 @frenchgirlinlondon @nebulastarr @emyliabernstein @thepeachreads @itsknife2meetu @omghappilyuniquebouquetlove @nomnomnomnamja @poe-kadot26 @top-rumbelle-fan @babydoll97 @hazel-nuss @vcat55 @feelthemadnessinside @rosionis @queenofgotham800 @brookisbi @peachthatdrinkslemonade @johallzy @foreverhockeytrash @frostypenguinoz @starwarsslytherin @proffesionalclown @chogisss @dance-like-russia-isnt-watching @shantellorraine @xxinvisiblexx @pooshnulooshnu @speedypartyducksuitcase @blondekel77 @corey-clown @drarrylov3r @i-cant-hear-you16 @deadlymistress24

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idreamofplaid · 4 years

Text

Beneath the Smile

Summary: Jared’s struggle with depression bubbles to the surface, and the reader is there to love and support him through it.

Characters: Jared x Reader; Jensen

Word Count: 2119

Warnings: Discussion of depression

A/N: This fic was inspired by an Ask I got from @sandlee44. It takes place at the time of Jared’s Season 3 breakdown. It is, of course, fiction. All the love to Jared always for having the courage to share his personal struggle with so many of us fighting the same battle.

It was two o’clock in the morning when the phone rang. I reached in the dark for my bedside table and patted my hand over the smooth surface until I found it. When I turned it over, the little screen brought a faint amount of light into the room. Then my eyes focused, and I read the name of the caller. Jensen. I sat straight up, instantly awake now, and pressed the button to answer his call.

“Jensen, what’s wrong? Jared? Is he okay?” My words were spilling out of my mouth at a rate to match the now pounding beat of my heart.

“He’s okay, Y/N, but I think you should come to Vancouver.” I noticed that his voice was still in the register of Dean deep. At first, I thought that was because of the late hour, but as he kept talking I realized it was because he was exhausted. “I’m at Jared’s apartment now. I came home with him.” My heart sank down to the pit of my stomach. I was terrified of what Jensen was going to say next. “He shouldn’t be alone right now.”

I struggled to find my voice. I had to ask, had to know, and Jensen wasn’t the kind of person to offer up information. The mere fact he’d called me told me just how serious this was, especially considering it was the middle of the night on the east coast where I was. “Tell me what happened, Jensen.”

I could practically hear him thinking, trying to figure out the best way to tell me whatever it was. “Jared had some kind of breakdown.” I grabbed a handful of my comforter and clutched it in my fist. “He was late coming back to set, so I went to his trailer to find him. He...he couldn’t get off the couch. He’d...just...shut down.”

“Why?” It was all I could think to say. My mind was racing, flying back through all the years I had known Jared. I’d been scared something like this was going to happen for a long time. Jared’s struggled with depression went all the way back to high school.

“I don’t know, Y/N. Nothing unusual happened. It’s about what he’s thinking and feeling, but that’s something he should tell you.”

I got off my bed and went to the closet while Jensen talked. My suitcase was on the shelf where I’d put it when I got home from my last trip to Vancouver. “Where is he now?”

“He’s sleeping. It was a long day.” Jensen paused, and I could tell he was weighing something in his mind. “The producers wanted to shut down production, but Jared wouldn’t. We’re going back to work tomorrow.”

I dropped my suitcase on my bed with a thud and zipped it open. “Jensen, please keep an eye on him. I’m catching the first plane I can tomorrow.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was early October, and the air was filled with a crisp Canadian chill. Jensen had arranged to have a car and driver pick me up at the airport and bring me back to the set. I’d only been there once, but it still seemed familiar to me, probably because I’d pictured it so many times. It was the way I stayed connected to Jared over the months I was falling in love with him from thousands of miles away.

I walked up the steps of the very trailer I’d imagined so many times and opened the door. The inside was neat, but not perfect. That was a good sign; Jared was at least trying. Keeping things tidy was a challenge for him because he had the type of personality that just exploded around you in a sunburst and often he was so wrapped up in that energy that the details of his surroundings didn’t even register with him.

There were throw pillows scattered over the couch. I’d gotten them for him after that first visit because I thought his work space needed a homey touch. I wanted him to be comfortable here. I made my way to the sofa, sat down, and picked up a navy pillow. I hugged it to my chest and remembered the first time Jared brought me here.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

One Year Ago

The smile had barely left Jared’s face since we’d gotten to the lot. He enjoyed being here, and everyone clearly loved him. The hair stylist had winked at me as she settled him in the chair and handed him a pack of gummy worms. “It’s the only thing that keeps him still.” Jared had pulled one of the sugar covered candies from the pack and held it out to me. I’d taken it from him and took a bite. The sugar had quickly covered my tongue, and the sound of Jared’s laughter caused a smile to bloom on my face.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Present

That seemed like a long time ago at the moment. The rattle of the door pulled me out of my reverie, and I hastily put the pillow back into its place. Jared sighed as he walked through the door, then he saw me. “Y/N.” He scrunched up his face, and the spot at the bridge of his nose wrinkled. “What are you doing here?” He was immersed in the look of Sam Winchester from head to toe, complete with all the layers, but he was still every bit my Jared. My Jared, full of sunshine and the darkness that tore at him.

I chose my words carefully. “I thought you might like to have me here, and...I wanted to be with you. Jared took off Sam’s jacket and dropped it on the counter. We were going to talk about it eventually, so I might as well say it. “Jensen called me.”

Jared had unbuttoned his cuff and was rolling up the sleeve. He stopped when he got to his elbow and hesitated before moving on to the other side. “He did?” Jared lifted his eyes to glance at me, his hand was on his sleeve motionless. “What did he say?”

I didn’t want to make Jared uncomfortable, but I couldn’t stop staring at him. The love I felt for him had guided my every move these past few months. I was actively engaged in trying to make myself a better person for him. He inspired me like that, and he didn’t have any idea.

“He told me you had a hard day, but he didn’t give me any details.” Jared didn’t answer, and I stayed quiet too. He walked over to the couch and sat down on the other end, then he leaned back and stretched his arm out across the back. He wasn’t making eye contact, but he shrugged and started to talk.

“I don’t know what happened. Shooting was going great. We were taking a scheduled break, and I came back here. I planned to unwind for a few minutes, listen to some music, but when I got here something just kind of came over me.” Jared lifted his arm and ran his hand through his hair. “I just started thinking I don’t belong here.” I saw him swallow, and I wanted to reach out to him, but I knew it was important to let him talk. “Look at this.” His head turned, scanning the trailer. “I’m a lead on a TV show. I’m not that good. There are so many actors better than me. There are people who hate me because of what I have, and there are people who want to be my friend because of it, because of what they think I can do for them.”

Jared tipped his head back, resting it on the back of the sofa and stared at the ceiling. “There’s just so much pressure. What if I can’t keep this up. I’m cracking, Y/N.” He turned his head to look at me without lifting it. “I sat here on this couch, and I couldn’t move. I was scared if I went out there, everyone would know. They’d know I’m fake, that I’m not really what they think I am at all, and I can’t do this.”

Jared abruptly lifted his head and stood. His back was to me as he continued. “How’d I get here? I got lucky. That’s all. I’ve always been too skinny. My hair just does whatever it feels like. I have too many moles that have to be airbrushed and covered with makeup. I can’t cry when the script says to do it. It always looks forced, and then after I can’t stop crying because I couldn’t cry.”

He turned, ran his hand through his hair again and then down over his face. “I want to be good at this. I want to be an actor, but there’s so much of this that isn’t acting. Image. I don’t want to hear that word anymore. I’ve got all these people telling me who to be and what to say in interviews. They tell me how to dress.”

Jared took a deep breath. “There’s so much pressure. Kripke told Jensen and me at the very beginning that this whole thing is riding on us. If it fails, it’ll be because of me, Y/N. What would PR do if this got out? How would that look? I had a breakdown on set. I couldn’t take it, Y/N.”

It was time to say something. “Jared, come sit with me.” This time when he sat down, it was beside me. I took his hand in mine, so big, so strong but soft. “Jared, you have a very special gift. Acting is part of it, but it’s not the most important part. You know how to connect to people.” It was true. That was what had drawn me to him in high school. Jared circulated outside cliques; he actually saw people.

I scooted closer to him. “The world doesn’t always appreciate that. It wants to put us all in a shiny box, and you resist that.” I slipped my free hand into his hair and combed my fingers through the soft locks that he thought were so problematic. “You keep hold of what’s real about you, no matter how many cameras and lights they put in your face. Your heart is kind; that’s why I love you.”

Tears formed in his eyes, and they threatened to fall. “I don’t deserve any of this, Y/N. I’m not worth it. I’m not who they think I am.”

I pulled my hand from his hair and let it rest on his cheek. “It doesn’t matter who they think you are. It matters what you know, and you’ll figure it out.”

A single tear slipped down Jared’s cheek, and he nodded silently. Then he wrapped his arms around me and held on. “I love you, Jared.” I rubbed my hand up and down his back. “You don’t have to be anything for anybody. Just you.”

After a few minutes, he pulled back and began to try to compose himself. “Jared, you don’t have to put on a face for me. I want you just the way you are.”

I fed him, using the ingredients in the fridge to make a sandwich. When Jared got like this, he tended to stop eating. It wasn’t time just yet to talk about finding him a therapist, but we would have that conversation before I left Vancouver. Right now, the focus was to take care of him by keeping him hydrated, nourished, and feeling safe, feeling loved. With this last in mind, I asked him. “Do you want to lie down with me?”

He bit his lip, and it would have been cute if my heart didn’t hurt for him. “Yeah. I’d like that.” I led him to the bed at the back of the trailer. Jared unbuttoned his top shirt and took it off, followed by toeing off his shoes. He took off everything else, leaving him in his t-shirt and boxer briefs. I made my way to the little closet in the corner and found one of his shirts I could wear, then went back to the bed where I found Jared under the covers.

I climbed in next to him, and he pulled me close. There was no sex; this was more basic, more intimate. Jared eased his hand beneath his shirt where he could feel the warmth of my skin. We stayed wrapped in each other like that, and I gave him the comfort he needed until he fell asleep. I would make sure he got the rest he needed too, and when he woke up; I would still be there to love and support him.

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