#I SQUEAK LIKE A SMOKE ALARM ON LOW BATTERY | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

pixieungerstories · 3 years ago

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Quarentine - 1

They always say ‘buy the worst house on the best block that you can afford’ and god knows this place was a total shit hole. 1200 square feet on an overgrown lot surrounded by McMansions. Hell, I paid less for the place that the land was worth. I’m amazed someone hadn’t bulldozed the place years ago.

To make a long story short, I did not look a gift house horse in the mouth.

I mean, it wasn’t a total write off. None of the windows were smashed. There were mature fruit trees in the backyard. If you ignored the weeds and rotting fruit, there was a lot of potential. The plumbing was lead pipes and the electrical was knob and tube, but I know people and I could trade favours to get that replaced. The foundations were good and the roof barely leaked.

I spent the summer camping in a tent in the back yard and slowly getting the place winterized enough that I could move it.

It was still a creepy ass house when I did. It had a boiler. I had no idea how to deal with that, but I was learning. And I learned how to ignore the whistles, hissing and banging sounds that went with having a boiler. The old rads were cast iron with pretty little details in the corners.

There were holes in the plaster, but I just ignored them. It wasn’t worth fixing when I was going to gut the place and put up drywall eventually. It just made it easier to get at the plumbing.

I started just living in the kitchen and ignoring the rest of the house. I had disconnected the rest of the electrical and plumbing and was using that as a home base while I renovated outwards from there.

There is nothing quite as creepy as sleeping in a sleeping bag on what were probably asbestos tiles in an old house that makes the weird noises that old houses make. I kept reminding myself that they only seemed louder than normal because the place was empty and there was nothing to muffle the sound. The shrieking had to be the upstairs window that didn’t quite shut properly.

I had the feeling that something was watching me and prayed to god it wasn’t rats.

I was in this for the long haul. Get up, shower at the gym, go to work, come home, renovate until it gets dark, shower at the gym, camp out in the kitchen. Not exciting, but satisfying. Let’s face it, this was the only way I was ever going to be able to afford a house.

When the work from home order came, I had to actually get a phone line installed so I could have internet access. Me, my laptop and a kitchen table I rescued from the curbside a while back.

The creepy feeling was worse. I told myself it had to be the isolation kicking in. I skyped with my best friends at night to make up for it. The power was still a bit dodgy and kept going out, but that’s what laptop batteries and cell phones are for, right?

I was sure the cough was from the dust.

The guy delivering groceries left them on the sidewalk instead of the porch. It was fine. I understood completely. I hadn’t done much work on the outside of the building at all.

I realized I was sneezing a bit when I started having to use toilet paper as kleenex.

I was fine. I was young and healthy. I didn’t have any sick days at work so I was determined to just push through.

I tried to get more rest.

I dreamed about something laying a cool hand on my forehead.

The grocery store was out of thermometers.

I mean, did it really matter if I had a fever? I wasn’t leaving the house to share with anyone.

My cough got worse overnight. I was vaguely aware of someone lifting me up and holding a cup of cool water to my lips. I was so fucking thirsty.

“You shouldn’t be here,” I mumbled. “I don’t want you to get sick.”

“I won’t,” a rumbling voice assured me.

I didn’t remember making soup, but I jolted into awareness sitting at the table with a steaming bowl in front of me. Chicken noodle out of a can. It’s not that hard to make. I’m sure I could add water and heat in my sleep. Apparently, I just did.

I was so cold that night. I don’t know where the extra blankets came from, but they were there in the morning.

I don’t know how I ordered a bed while I was sick, but it was there and on my credit card. So was the mattress and sheets. It must have been the fever talking when I ordered them. I would not have picked out anything that old fashioned looking.

How did I get all this stuff up to the second floor bedroom? I’m sure I don’t remember stripping the paint off the closet doors. I must be losing my mind. I slept, I ate, I stopped logging in at work. I just needed to concentrate on getting better.

By the time I was able to stay awake for more than an hour at a time, the city was shut down. I was confined to my house whether I liked it or not. I was suddenly glad my fever addled brain had ordered a bed while I still could.

The watched feeling was worse. I ordered some rat traps with my groceries. I didn’t catch anything. They didn’t take the bait. I swear I heard snickering when I checked them in the morning. That was a new sound for the boiler to make.

“I am losing my mind,” I repeated to myself. Then blushed when I realized I had said it aloud. “And yes, I also talk to myself,” I added for good measure. “At least it is some sound,” I muttered. “I should turn on some music or something.”

Work was officially shut down but I still had the dumpster outback. I spend my awake time cleaning out the other rooms. The advantage of living in a construction zore was all the dust masks. When I needed to actually go out, that might help. In the meantime, I carefully sorted through the things the previous owners had left behind. Some of it was just trash, but there were some old photographs, lost buttons, even a single antique earring.

“No chance of finding a pair, I bet. Still this could be made over into a necklace or something.” Shit. I was talking to myself again, wasn’t I?

I still got tired easily. I dreamed about my mom stroking my hair as I slept.

The footprints I couldn’t explain away.

I had taken down a section of wall and spent the day carrying out the chunks of plaster before microwaving a pizza pop and tucking in early. In the morning there were footprints in the dust. They weren’t mine. They were huge and it was hard to believe they were human. Weird long toes, with the claw tips a little in front were not what I was expecting.

That was the first time I had wanted to leave the house.

I grabbed my stuff and made it to the front yard before I was spotted by a passing patrol car and ordered back inside. I had no idea how to explain that I thought there was some sort of monster living in my house. I was shaking as I went back inside.

“Hello?” I called from the doorway, ready to run. I had no idea where I could even run to. “Um… Is anyone there?” I don’t know what I was expecting. “Hi? Um …. I bought the house, I didn’t know there was any … thing living here. I have been trying to fix it up.”

“I know.”

Fuck. The scratchy, rasping bass voice was not what I was expecting. “I … uh… I can go back to camping in the yard,” I suggested.

“No.”

I waited to hear if he (?) was going to say anything else.

Apparently not.

“Uh … no I can’t stay here? Or no, you don’t even want me camping in the backyard?”

“If I didn’t want you here, I would have had many opportunities to get rid of you.”

Shit. That wasn’t ominous or threatening at all.

With a low chuckle the voice asked, “Did you mean to say that out loud?”

I froze and tried to remember what I had said. Oh. “No, that was an accident. I’m not used to having anyone around to hear me.”

“I always hear you.”

I closed the door and went out to sit in the garden for a moment to think about that. I ended up pacing, swearing and wishing for a cigarette. I hadn’t smoked in years. The sun started to go down and the bugs came out. I was being eaten alive outside. Going inside was scary but he was right. He had lots of time to …

I flung open the door. “Did you order furniture on my credit card?” I demanded.

The laughter that rang out was a whole other level of creepy. I shivered and thought about going back outside. The door pulled itself closed behind me. I spun to look at it and didn’t see anything. I could hear something breathing. I turned again. Nothing.

“If we are both going to live here, can we at least agree on some ground rules?”

“Like what?” was almost purred in my ear. Looking around wildly, I still couldn’t see anything.

I was shaking now. “Is there a way for you to be less scary so I don’t have a heart attack?” I squeaked.

There was nothing but silence. Still my sense of the presence suggested it was gone.

I didn’t sleep that night. I would just start to nod off then jerk myself awake and look wildly around the room. I never saw anything.

Six am, my alarm went off and I could smell coffee.

All the dust had been swept up.

“Hello?” I whispered.

Nothing. I had coffee and cereal and tried not to think about my surprise roommate. I was so tired, I passed out at my computer in the kitchen at some point that morning, only to wake in bed upstairs in the afternoon. “I don’t want you to touch me while I’m sleeping,” I mumbled, painfully aware that there was dick all I could do to stop it.

“Alright,” the voice said, coming from somewhere in the direction of the closet. “But don’t fall asleep at the table then.”

I breathed a faint sigh of relief. I wasn’t expecting the next part.

“You need to eat something now. You are still recovering.”

There was a can of soup heating on the stove. My breakfast dishes were gone. I found them clean and dry in the cupboard. “Thank you,” I whispered. He didn’t reply. As I ate lunch, I was psyching myself into going upstairs to look in the closet. The door had been painted shut when I got the house, but at some point had been stripped down to the bare wood.

I hadn’t worked up the nerve by the time I was done eating. Or washing and drying the dishes. I found myself at the bottom of the stairs staring up at the second floor. Did I really want to see what was in that closet?

No.

But it would be better to look during the light of day.

Eventually, I made it up there. I put my hand on the knob and tried to turn it. It didn’t budge.

“You want rules?” the voice growled behind me. I spun, there was nothing there. “Do not open that door. Do not come into my space.”

I went from trembling from nerves to bolting down the stairs in an instant. I nearly tripped, but felt something - him? - catch me and set me on my feet.

“Careful,” he purred.

I spent the rest of the day in the garden again. I was still out there when the sun went down and the back light turned on. Then the kitchen light and for a moment I could see something outlined against the antique curtains I hadn’t replaced in the kitchen. I tried to remind myself that he wasn’t necessarily that big. He might just be closer to the light and casting a bigger shadow.

I didn’t believe it, but I tried.

I crept back into the house like a scared child who wasn’t sure how angry their parents were going to be after they had done something wrong. I turned on all the lights on the main floor and stayed in the kitchen away from the stairs.

“Planning on staying up all night?”

I jumped. “How are you always behind me?”

“I live in the shadows. Go to bed.”

“Um… I was thinking, that should be your room, really. Your closet. You picked out the bed. I can just camp down -”

“No. Go to bed.”

“Do you really think I’m going to be able to sleep in a room with a closet that must not be opened? I have read Blue Beard, you know.”

“So have I. The wife gets the house and lives happily ever after.”

“The last wife does,” I pointed out. “The first dozen or so didn’t.”

He chuckled at that. “We made a deal, remember?”

“Are you teasing me? What deal?”

“I don’t touch you in your sleep. You don’t sleep in the kitchen anymore.”

“How big are you?”

The lights flickered and went off.

“Do you want to see me?” he purred, so close that I could feel his breath on my neck.

“Not in the dark,” I squeaked.

“Go to bed.”

The light snapped back on, leaving me blinking.

I spent the night sitting on the bed with my back pressed against the headboard trying to see the whole room at one. Eventually, I fell asleep.

My alarm did not go off at six. It had been turned off. The coffee was ready but not turned on when I went down stairs. The air smelled faintly of solder. There was a post-it stuck to the coffee maker. Fine copperplate handwriting told me:

I have replaced the plumbing

I stared at it dumbly. I had replaced the plumbing to the kitchen sink and the downstairs powder room and had been washing out of the sink since I had been forced to stay home. The only other plumbing was down to the washing machine in the cellar and the upstairs bathroom. I pushed the button on the coffee maker and slowly crept upstairs.

Sure enough the stack of copper pipe waiting in the other bedroom was gone.

Well, not gone. I could see it installed through the holes in the walls. I turned on the tap to the sink and sure enough, I had water. I now had an upstairs, working bathroom with a clawfoot tub.

And no walls.

“I don’t like the idea of you watching me bathe,” I called out. Then I felt like an idiot because if whatever it was had voyeur tendencies, it could have been watching me for months. I tried all the taps and the toilet. Everything worked.

“Thank you,” I mumbled, unsure if I was talking to myself.

“You’re welcome.” It was the least creepy, most normal thing I had heard from him.

----

When I got back downstairs, there still wasn’t coffee but there was a new note:

Humans who do not sleep start to hallucinate

I crumbled it up, threw it across the room and jabbed the on switch on the coffee maker. Nothing happened. I growled as I plugged it in. The power went out.

“Oh come on! Withholding coffee is cruel and unusual punishment!”

“Sleep.” It sounded like the whole house had murmured that last bit.

I wish I could say I handled it gracefully, but I didn’t. I stomped back up to the bedroom like a petulant child.

I woke to bright sunlight streaming in through the window. The house was quiet and it felt empty for the first time in days. I had a bath and washed my hair and I felt better than I had in days too. Clean and dry and dressed, I bounced into the kitchen to try and turn on the coffee again only to see my laptop snap shut.

It was with a lot of trepidation that I opened it. I was expecting a ridiculous online purchase which is why I stared dumbly at the screen unable to process what I was seeing.

It was a CGI woman with her hands tied to something over her head being railed by a monster who was fingering her clit with one hand and fondling her breasts with the other while her belly distended in rhythm with his thrusts.

“Ugh! Dude! You can NOT watch porn on my laptop!” I shrieked as I frantically tried to close the window.

“Would you rather I watch you?” he asked calmly from somewhere to the left of me.

I breathed out a shaky breath. “OK. Let’s talk about private browser windows and how not to get a computer virus.”

When I got to the end of my tentative explanation, I asked, “Do you need … some alone time?”

There was another house shaking howling laugh.

“Is that a yes or a no?”

“You need to eat.”

That brought up a whole other issue. “Do you? Eat I mean. Do you eat? What do you eat?”

“Don’t worry about me. I am not going to eat you. Unless you ask nicely.”

I blushed even further but got out a pan and a skillet meal from the fridge.

I spend the rest of the afternoon weeding the garden. I came in when it got dark, heated up my leftovers from lunch and tried to figure out what to do with myself. The nap had meant that I wasn’t tired for the first time in days.

I wondered what he would do if I watched a movie. I hunted through the cupboards and found a bag of microwave popcorn from before the virus started. Right! I thought. Bowl of popcorn, a movie, skype with a few friends. Pretend none of this was happening.

I wasn’t surprised when the lights went out. That was just a thing now. My computer was still illuminating a bubble around me and B99 was still hilarious.

I wasn’t expecting the bed to dip next to me. That once again raised the question of how to deal with him around others. I hit the mute button. “What are you doing?” I asked icily.

“Not touching you. What are you eating?”

“Human food.”

“Hmmm.”

I unmuted my computer to answer Penny’s question about how stir crazy I was going.

“12/10 on the looney toons scale,” I offered.

She just laughed.

All of the popcorn was gone.

“Ah hell.”

“What’s wrong?” Penny asked.

“All my popcorn is gone,” I grumbled. I didn’t add that I had more than half a bowl left a moment ago. Not eating me, I reminded myself.

“That sucks. Need to pause and get more?”

“I don’t have anymore.”

She just laughed, “But do you still have toilet paper and hand sanitizer?”

I chuckled, “Toilet paper, at least.”

“I should go. It’s getting late,” she said with a yawn.

“Yeah. Good night.” After Penny signed off, I just let Netflix autoplay the next episode.

“Do you need to sleep?” The whisper seemed to come from the direction of the closet but the bed was still dipped under his weight on my other side.

My heart leapt to my throat. “How many of you are there?”

“Just me,” he purred too close to my ear. I flung myself away from him and toppled out of bed. Two hands caught me.

Two other hands caught my laptop.

I stared as it was placed back on the bed a little way in front of me. The hands on my arms were cool and smooth. “What are you?”

“I am me. I have not asked your name. You will not ask mine.”

“My name is on the mail. And my credit card. You know my name,” I pointed out keeping my eyes locked on the screen, fighting the urge to look around.

“Nonetheless.”

This wasn’t going to work, but I had to try. “I would like to be alone now.”

The bed shifted as the weight was removed from the side. The black shadows that could be fingers moved from my computer. The voice said, “Good night” from the direction of the closet.

I sat frozen. “In the morning, I’m moving the bed to another room.”

“Why?”

“Because the closet is yours and it’s scary being here with you,” I admitted.

“I have never done anything to harm you.”

“You scare the shit out of me multiple times a day.”

There was a long pause before he replied, “And yet you haven’t left.”

“The city is on lock down. I can’t leave.”

“Hmm.”

I jumped as my laptop snapped shut. I fumbled in the dark trying to find it on my bed, “What are you doing?” I demanded.

“Taking this downstairs. I will not bother you tonight.”

“What-” I started to say, then snapped my mouth shut as the realization that this may be his ‘alone time’.

This time the “Good night,” came from the bedroom door.

In the morning the only thing in my browsing history was netflix. This was less comforting since I had shown him how to clear the cache. I told myself at least the keyboard wasn’t sticky.

#quarantine #oh my god they were quarantined

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plethora-of-imagines · 4 years ago

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Precious Present

AN: Boxing Day is still Christmas right? Here is another of the Christmassy/winter fic ideas that I thought of this year. I may not have gotten them all out before Christmas but I’m not going to let that stop me! This one uses one of my favorite tropes too.

Word Count: 1977

Warnings: smut/lemon, bondage, cockwarming

Description: You give the Master a present.

Tag List: @c-s-stars @queerconfusionthings @how-masterful @truthbehindthemysteries

You fidgeted and squirmed, unable to significantly move with the way you had bound yourself up. You hadn't thought that the Master would be so long. Then again he had no idea you were even waiting for him. You hopped he entered the room soon otherwise all he would get to do with his unwrapped present would be aftercare. He was very firm about how long you were allowed to be bound and you were quickly approaching that time limit.

You had wanted to surprise him with your efforts to learn how to properly and safely tie yourself up in bondage. Especially the tricky slip knots that you had worked to learn. It had taken you almost an hour to completely tie yourself up in matte red ribbon. The smooth as silk ribbons laying flat against your skin in crisscrossed patterns. Accentuating your breasts and the rest of your bare skin. Ribbons tightly bound your thighs to your calves, keeping your legs bent. You had filled yourself with a generously lubed dildo and lit candles around yourself on the floor before starting the tricky task of securing your hands behind your back.

You had been waiting for the Master to find you for long enough that the candles were almost burnt out. To be fair they had already been well-used candles. All soft and subtle winter scents that the Master was partial to from his travels. He had given them to you as a present knowing that you adored burning candles. You had gotten a fair bit of use out of them and had figured that they would help set the scene well for him to stumble upon you all wrapped up as a gift for him. The low levels of light would hopefully hide any imperfections in your work when he first saw you.

You were a little worried that he wouldn’t realize what your intentions were and would instead think you had been practicing and gotten stuck. That would result in a lengthy lecture on proper self-bondage safety. The large bow- almost as large as your head- that you had pinned to your hair would hopefully get your meaning across before he could start to get the wrong idea. And if it didn’t there was also the handwritten tag looped through the ribbon circling your throat to help.

You started to drift off as you waited for either the Master to enter the room or your preset alarm to go off. You would be deeply disappointed if the alarm went off and you had to free yourself, but you didn’t want to hurt yourself either. Your head shot up when you heard the door creaking open. The Master was here! Looking up to see him illuminated by the light from the hallway. A soft smile reached your eyes as you took in the sight of him.

"Is this bondage safe?"

You tried to resist pouting that these were his first words upon seeing you. He would take it as an admission of dangerous actions, and not of disappointment. It was sweet that he cared so much but you had hoped to inspire words of lust. It almost seemed like he wasn’t affected by the sight of you naked and tied up at all.

"Check my arms, Master. They should be tied so that one pull can free them. It took a few hours of practice but I believe I got it correct this time!"

He kneeled down to look at the knots and layered ribbons you had done. You shivered as the cold leather of his gloves gently examined the knots and ribbons more closely. Careful not to tug, less he untie you already.

Hands dropping down to his side he offered soft praise of your work.

"You did a wonderful job, my dear. Your practice has certainly made perfect."

"Thank you, Master!" Eagerly you accepted the scrap of praise.

The Master seemed to consider removing his gloves for a moment before deciding to keep them on while he appreciated the work you had done. Gently his gloved hands trailed across your skin, appreciating the decorative ribbons binding you as a pretty package. Cupping your breasts lightly in his hands.

Lifting the tag tied around your throat with care, he read it aloud.

"To a loving Master, from his dearest love. What a sweet sentiment, my dearest. A precious present such as yourself all for me."

You shivered at his voice, the trill and purr in his words. His voice was always so seductive, so enticing. His hands wandered lower, spreading the ribbons to reveal your cunt. His fingers explored, seemingly intent on entering you before they discovered that you were already filled with a dildo.

“And it appears that your, ahem, ‘stocking has been stuffed’ already so to speak, my dear.”

You squirmed uncomfortably at the phrase. It just sounded so, wrong. Your squirming made you feel the small stretch of the dildo even more as you shifted in just the right way to press the dildo into your vagina’s walls.

“Please never say that again, Master.”

“So you don’t want to be stuffed full with my cock?” He teased. “Strange, normally you would be eager to have my cock stuffed deep inside of you so you could cockwarm for hours.”

You blushed despite the fact that your compromising position all tied up should leave you with no embarrassment left to be had.

“You're purposely misinterpreting me, Master!” You whined childishly.

“I know, my darling. But how can I be expected to resist teasing you while you are all tied up and can do nothing but squirm in retaliation? Besides, my precious present, the gift giver has no say in what the recipient of the gift does with it. I can tease you until you are as red as the ribbons you used if I so chose.”

He laughed at your face as he scrunched your lips together with his grip on your chin. Releasing your face to brush your hair behind your ear as he admired the sight of you again.

“The bow on your head is a lovely touch. I admit I’m tempted to keep it on you forever to remind the people of the universe that you are a gift from whatever higher powers religious people believe formed the universe.”

You blushed further at his compliment. Smiling shyly at him.

A quick kiss was pressed to the corner of your mouth. Instinctively you leaned forward to follow his lip in hopes of receiving a real kiss. One that fully covered your lips with his own.

You had somehow managed to forget how tied up you were... Your body fell forward as you squeaked in surprise. Landing face first in the Master's lap. With ease, the Master maneuvered you so that you were laying in his lap more comfortably, and much less suffocatingly. Your legs up in the air- still secured thigh to calf.

"What's this?" The Master questioned in a reprimanding tone as he looked closer at the base of the dildo. "Is my precious present guilty of using up some batteries while waiting for me to open her?"

"No! Of course not, Master," you quickly protested. "The dildo is in to prepare me for you so that you can use your present right away if you wish to. The batteries are included for your enjoyment of me, if you wish to use them at all that is."

His hands quickly flicked the vibrator on to full power. You violently twitched at the unexpectedly strong sensations. A loud moan passing through your tightly closed lips.

All at once, the candles went out and the subtle smell of smoke filled the air.

"Well now, it seems like the perfect time to bring my gift to a much more appropriate location to unwrap."

The Master lifted you into his arms as he stood. Holding you to his side, arms supporting your arse and back. Normally when carried like this you would wrap your arms and legs around him like a child. As tightly bound as you were- that wasn't possible. You were reliant on the Master holding you to keep you from falling. He would never let you fall from his grasp so you had little to worry about. Even so, you still thought about how much trust it showed to let him carry you like this.

Gently placing you on the bed, the Master moved to untie you. Smoothly he unbound your arms from each other. Taking the ribbons still wrapped around your arms and securing them to the side of the bed. The little hooks that were hidden on the bed frame just for this sort of purpose finally being used. Your legs were done next. Faster than you could process the ribbons no longer secured your thighs to your calves. Pushing the ribbons up to your thighs the Master secured them to the same hooks as the others. Leaving your arms and legs spread.

The vibrator was turned off but you didn't so much as murmur in disappointment. You knew that soon you would feel much better than the vibrator had made you feel.

Hands held your face with reverence. Lips softly meeting yours in a gentle kiss. You sighed in pleasure. Eyes taking in the breathtaking image of the Master hovering above you. The Christmas lights you had begged him to put up around the bed throwing their light onto his body. There was something about the particular glow of Christmas lights that were softer, kinder than other lights.

"I believe I can understand the appeal of seeing presents underneath a tree now," he softly remarked as he lovingly looked down at you.

"Glad I could persuade you."

He kissed down your skin from your forehead to between your thighs. Biting the tip of his gloves and pulling them off with his teeth as you watched. Your breath hitched as his fingers walked up your thighs to the dildo pressed deep inside of you. Achingly slow he pulled the dildo out of you. You could feel your arousal leaking out when the dildo was completely removed.

You sighed, content as he undressed. A soft ringing interrupting him. He looked at you questioning if you knew the reason for the alarm.

"It was my alarm for the time limit of being bound like I was before," you explained.

"Good girl," he purred. "Make sure to stretch some now, you should have enough slack to properly stretch your limbs."

"Yes, Master."

He finished undressing before he began to unwrap the ribbons around you. Shushing you as you began to protest.

"I'm unwrapping my gift now, my dear. It’s my choice to do so regardless of the alarm."

As the ribbons fell from your body, the Master admired you anew. He seemed slightly disappointed to have to remove the gift tag from your neck. But he smiled mischievously as he tied it to the giant bow still on your head. Chuckling at his antics you knew that it would be a few days before he allowed you to take off the bow. Not that you minded at all.

The Master's hands rubbed circles into your skin anywhere it seemed the ribbons had dug into your skin. Once he had given your body a once over he slowly slid his cock into you. There was still a small amount of stretch that your preparations had not fully prepared you for. Still, it felt nice to feel the Master deep inside of you.

Leaning close he seductively whispered in your ear, voice filled with kind humor, "the cockwarmer you got me is the perfect size, my dear. I'll have to make sure to use it often."

You giggled in amusement. Giddy to have so pleasantly surprised him.

“Of course, Master. Any time you want.”

#the master x reader #delgado!master x reader

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lokisgame · 6 years ago

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Enchanted Forest [9]

[part 1] [part 2] [part 3] [part 4] [part 5] [part 6] [part 7] [part 8]

A/N My Beta rocks, she’s the best of the best.

"Oh, come on!" Langly moaned, throwing his hand. "You're not gonna spill even a tiniest detail?" "She found out, we're okay," Mulder mumbled around the last bite of his taco. "What else do you need to know." "Gold-cross-around-her-neck Dana Scully, rational, grown-up Agent Scully," he leaned over the table intently, "is okay with you sleeping with random women. Just like that, no fight, no respect lost, business as usual?" He couldn't help a little smile tugging at his cheek. "Maybe not as usual, but yeah, we're fine." Byers shook his head, taking a sip of beer, Frohike didn't look happy either. "What, is that bad?" "She wasn't even a little bit jealous?" Byers asked, giving Mulder a sympathetic look. "No." "You should call Oxford," Langly chuckled, "get your money back."

"For that big brain of yours, you're not too bright." Frohike said with a heavy sigh.

"Okay, what am I missing here."

"Well, my friend," Langly said, emphasising the last word as if it dirty, "you know about the friend zone, right?"

"You're just trying to make me talk, and I'm not falling for it."

"Mark my words, next thing you know, she'll be patting your knee, calling you cute."

"She won't." His confidence was sealed tight with the memory of Scully's searching hand and the sound of a bath, sloshing in the background, a minute ago.

With his coat on the floor and shoes barely toed off, no one was there to hear him fall into bed. Tuck him in, or nag about his breath, stinking of onions, bourbon and beer. Still, even if not perceived, he did exist, and so did Scully, even if she wasn't there to be. Drunk thoughts bobbed inside his head, as he tried to talk himself out of calling her. Even if she wasn't here, she was, home, safe, asleep in her bed most likely. Mulder rolled over onto his back, arms thrown wide, and his hand landed on something hard, that beeped, bounced back. He forgot he wasn't supposed to and pressed the overused button on his phone. After three harsh tones, she sighed, in that breathy midnight voice he loved, one that made him feel warm. "Scully." "Hey," he mumbled, closing his eyes, "I'm home." "That's good." She slurred a little, not quite awake. "Got your money back?" He smiled into the darkness, rolling over onto his side, pulling the sheets along for the ride. "And then some." "Mhmm." Past the point of words, she exuded sleep-eons over the line and Mulder could almost feel her warmth, memory of it fresh in his bones, floating like oil to the surface of his alcohol-diluted thoughts. When he drank, filters were first out the door. "You feel nice, Scully," he mumbled and closed his eyes for a few seconds. Seconds that turned into hours.

Cool breeze carried a scent, delicate but sweet, familiar, even if he couldn't quite place it. He followed it trough the snowy woods, breathing in deeply, as the forest grew thicker around him, branches and fallen trees slowing him down. Always one step behind, the things he wanted, a hair's breadth out of his grasp. Bright lights above moved in their never-ending dance, sending waves through time and space. Energies able to change balance of fate and send even the most entangled spirits into different orbits.

Sooner rather than later, D.C. snow turned into grey sludge, filthy, semi-liquid goo splashed by passing cars, staining clothes and shoes and making life a living hell. Hell, that Scully was experiencing first hand, adding near sludge-shower to the growing list of mishaps. First, she ran out of coffee, then, her car wouldn't start, threatening her missing the flight. Then some idiot cut her off and took the last near spot she found in the parking lot. The stars did definitely not align for her, especially with going on a case on a Thursday, which meant working weekend, again. "You're late," she said. Arms folded over her chest and foot tapping nervously on tile, as she waited, last in line to board their flight. "Sorry," Mulder panted, straightening his tie. Batteries in his alarm clock died and he made a mental note to buy one that plugged in, to avoid such mornings in the future.

The plane was small, with just enough room for two rows of seats, adjoining on one side and single on the other. Scully walked ahead, picking the single, and leaving Mulder at the mercy of whatever sweaty businessman, that eventually crossed their path. Before Mulder even had a chance to offer help, Scully wedged her suitcase inside the overhead compartment and sank into her seat, lumpy and uncomfortable, but lending enough leg room for her mere 5ft3'. She knew Mulder hated these flights, but she didn't feel generous enough to switch, her morning was terrible enough already. With the case file waiting closed in her lap, Scully shut her eyes and gave herself a few breaths to calm down as people bustled around her. Soon, a young, pleasant voice sounded near by. "Excuse me, I believe you're in my seat." "Oh, sorry." Mulder said, making her look up to see him, smiling at a tall, slender blonde, in an elegant pale grey jacket, and a skirt, barely passing for professional. "You need help with that?" "If you'd be so kind," she said, obviously pleased, stepping back to let him pass before she took his place, leaving Mulder to put away her small case. "Thank you," she smiled a brilliant smile, flipping hair back over one shoulder, when he took the seat beside her. "I'm sorry I insisted on the window seat, the view helps me forget my fear of flying." "Funny," he smiled warmly, "usually it's the view that scares people." "Not me, I find it fascinating." "It can be breathtaking," Mulder agreed, leaning a little closer, to look out the window, "but maybe not in this weather." "No," the woman laughed, "I guess not." Scully sighed quietly, but Mulder didn't let it go. "Any other ideas? Tricks? Magic spells?" The woman laughed, little louder this time, sweet and melodic. "Yes, one, conversation." She smiled, hand reaching out, "I'm Leah." "Mulder," he shook her hand and Scully could hear him smile. Warning lights for not smoking blinked on and for the first time in years, her hands resting on the armrests, closed.

Before they passed over New York, Scully learned that Leah was a junior partner at a law firm, Something Or Other and Sons, lived in D.C. and loved dogs. "You don't?" She asked puzzled, when Mulder laughed. "No, it's not that, I just recently met someone who loved cockroaches, so…" "Who loves cockroaches?" She asked, a little appalled. "Scientists, researching nocturnal insect swarms." He replied, and they both laughed. "Everyone needs a hobby," she said, siping tonic with lime. "And to earn a living." He added, cheerfully. Scully tried to focus on work, but the conversation peeved her too much to pay attention to her notes. A series of murders, presumably tied to the occult, combined with what looked like a sloppy investigation, angered her even more. Another mindless witch hunt, she thought sourly. The woman laughed, just when a flight attendant passed between them, asking if they needed anything. Scully sensed Mulder shift in the cramped space of his seat. They both declined, almost simultaneously, making the girl ignore Scully, as if she didn't exist. The seat squeaked a little, each time Leah moved, crossing her legs for the millionth time. "So, Mulder, is that a first name, last name or a pseudonym?" Mulder chuckled softly, and Scully gave up, closed the folder and her eyes. They had still 40 minutes till landing, then a 2 hour drive to Comity, New Hampshire.

Two days later, the green plaque saying "Comity, The Perfect Harmony City," stayed almost invisible, as they breezed past it, not to mention other signs on the side of the road. "You just… ran a stop sign back there, Scully." "Shut up, Mulder." She barked back, without humour. "Sure. Fine. Whatever." Heavy silence fell, still seething with emotions brought on by the case. Scully gripped the wheel in gloved hands and he knew, that her knuckles would be white beneath the soft leather. Mulder's thigh throbbed, burned when his gun that went off at the police station, but playing the injury card would only set her off. So he sat in the passenger's seat, watching the mile posts blur as she kept speeding through the New Hampshire night. He hated all of it, her sudden fit of stubborn anger, himself for snapping at her, and Detective White for throwing herself at him. He didn't appreciate that. If anything, he was glad, Scully wanted to get out of there, at least they agreed on something. Big macho man. Was that what she really thought of him? That he was like any other guy, making fancy excuses for plain sleeping around? When White came to his room, all he did was try to keep enough room for writing it off as a misunderstanding, without accusing a fellow officer of assault. He didn't like it, he could have played it differently, but it wasn't his fault the woman didn't understand a polite no. No meant no, for everyone involved. Glancing at Scully, still silently scowling at the darkness, he could feel the wall vibrating around her, almost tangible. She was hurt. He hurt her. "It wasn't like that, Scully." He said, keeping his voice low and soft. "What?" "At the motel, before. She jumped me." He tried to explain, but she cut him off. "Listen, I don't care who or what you do on your own time, but when we're on a case." "It wasn't like that!" Mulder raised his voice and regretted it immediately. Scully stomped on the break, almost hanging him on his seatbelt. "I don't want to know!" She said, eyes screwed shut and head pulled between her shoulders. Leather creaked as her grip tightened even further and she fell forward, hiding deeper, her resolve crumbling down. "It's none of my business, with whom do you sleep," she whispered, without looking up. He was probably risking his arm, but he reached out, gently brushing one hand over her back. "The only person I slept with in the past four years, was you," he said with honesty. Scully didn't look up, but didn't shrug him off either, which meant progress. "I saw a motel on the map, about twenty miles from here and I wouldn't mind sleeping away from this madness for a bit. You?" She nodded, avoiding his gaze, but that too, was a step. He could live with small steps.

Scully couldn't sleep try as she might. The sheets smelled weird, too much starch or bleach, too cold. She wanted to believe, to let go, but something inside her bled. She thought she was over it, reasoning the facts into submissions, lining them up in neat piles as she always did. Mulder was her friend, honest and loyal when it came to matters between them and their work. He was also an escort, but it never got in the way of her or their work. He knew how to keep the things separate and she could count on that. Until she couldn't, until she saw that woman all over him. When they were on the clock, no less. Anger and frustration chased each other around her heart, until they clashed, breaking it in half. Even if he didn't mean it, he shouldn't ditch her, not like that, when they were working. But as she tried to talk herself through it, she couldn't help imagining Mulder, embracing the woman, accepting, letting her in, to take her place. A place Scully only began to imagine herself in, in the mornings and the evenings, on a couch in a house that felt like hers but looked like him. Pain made silent tears soak the starched pillow, letting her drift into oblivion.

Somewhere on the edge of dream, sleep twitch jostled the mattress and something small and warm curled up against her back. Cold nose touched the back of her neck and tickled her ear, making her smile, and like that, she was gone.

On the other side of the wall, not a foot away, Mulder sat on the bed, leaning against the cold plaster with forehead resting on his folded forearms. He wiped his eyes. Stupid rhinitis.

They went home in the morning. Not talking about it. Days went by in silence. Something broke and as much as Mulder tried to reach out, he found polite denial every time. Scully didn't ask how he was anymore, she didn't laugh at his jokes as freely as she did before. It wasn't the first time, but it hurt more than usual. "How about that lunch, I promised?" He asked on a gloomy Tuesday. "Not today, I've got some samples I need to take to the lab." "You wanna come with me to the Smithsonian? I'm meeting with an astrophysics professor, to talk about what really happened in Comity." Silence. Scully only smiled and shook her head, going back to the report, or perhaps a new article. She burned through paperwork like forest fire, a telltale sign he learned to read as 'stay away'. He was growing tired of the cold shoulder.

Friday night he picked up the phone. "Hey Foxy!" Bear boomed in his usual happy manner. "How's the cold." "Gone, good as new. You got something for me?" "Not right now, but it's only 8, you clocking in?" "Yeah, let me know." Not twenty minutes later, his phone rang again. "New customer." "Where." Mulder wrote down the address. "I'm on my way."

Cold. The night was unbearably cold. She never noticed it before, having the same dream over and over. Empty forest bathed in moonlight, blue glow and shadows, walking up the path, alone, hoping to find the clearing but never reaching the top. Wind howled through branches above her head, but the mist that spread over the ground only quivered lightly. Like thigh deep water it weighed down her every step, but she wasn't going to give up, moving forward, watching every step she took in the dark. Echo of a laugh bounced between the trees, something moved in the shadows. Scully paused and listened, looking around. Nothing, blue snow and… A piercing yelp of a wounded animal cut through the night like a knife.

Scully woke up on her mother's couch, disoriented and frantic, panic sending her heart racing.

#enchanted forest #MSR fanfic #x files fanfic

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pixieungerstories · 5 years ago

Text

Quarantine

They always say ‘buy the worst house on the best block that you can afford’ and god knows this place was a total shit hole. 800 square feet on an overgrown lot surrounded by McMansions. Hell, I paid less for the place that the land was worth. I’m amazed someone hadn’t bulldozed the place years ago.

To make a long story short, I did not look a gift house horse in the mouth.

I spent the summer camping in a tent in the back yard and slowly getting the place winterized enough that I could move it.

It was still a creepy ass house when I did. It had a boiler. ��I had no idea how to deal with that, but I was learning. And I learned how to ignore the whistles, hissing and banging sounds that went with having a boiler. The old rads were cast iron with pretty little details in the corners.

There were holes in the plaster, but I just ignored them. It wasn’t worth fixing when I was going to gut the place and put up drywall eventually. It just made it easier to get at the plumbing.

I had the feeling that something was watching me and prayed to god it wasn’t rats.

I was in this for the long haul. Get up, shower at the gym, go to work, come home, renovate until it got dark, shower at the gym, camp out in the kitchen. Not exciting, but satisfying. Let’s face it, this was the only way I was ever going to be able to afford a house.

When the work from home order came, I had to actually get a phone line installed so I could have internet access. Me, my laptop and a kitchen table I rescued from the curbside a while back.

I was sure the cough was from the dust.

The guy delivering groceries left them on the sidewalk instead of the porch. It was fine. I understood completely. I hadn’t done much work on the outside of the building at all.

I realized I was sneezing a bit when I started having to use toilet paper as kleenex.

I was fine. I was young and healthy. I didn’t have any sick days at work so I was determined to just push through.

I tried to get more rest.

I dreamed about something laying a cool hand on my forehead.

The grocery store was out of thermometers.

I mean, did it really matter if I had a fever? I wasn’t leaving the house to share with anyone.

My cough got worse overnight. I was vaguely aware of someone lifting me up and holding a cup of cool water to my lips. I was so fucking thirsty.

“You shouldn’t be here,” I mumbled. “I don’t want you to get sick.”

“I won’t,” a rumbling voice assured me.

I was so cold that night. I don’t know where the extra blankets came from, but they were there in the morning.

“No chance of finding a pair, I bet. Still this could be made over into a necklace or something.” Shit. I was talking to myself again, wasn’t I?

I still got tired easily. I dreamed about my mom stroking my hair as I slept.

The footprints I couldn’t explain away.

That was the first time I had wanted to leave the house.

“I know.”

Fuck. The scratchy, rasping bass voice was not what I was expecting. “I … uh… I can go back to camping in the yard,” I suggested.

“No.”

I waited to hear if he (?) was going to say anything else.

Apparently not.

“Uh … no I can’t stay here? Or no, you don’t even want me camping in the backyard?”

“If I didn’t want you here, I would have had many opportunities to get rid of you.”

Shit. That wasn’t ominous or threatening at all.

With a low chuckle the voice asked, “Did you mean to say that out loud?”

I froze and tried to remember what I had said. Oh. “No, that was an accident. I’m not used to having anyone around to hear me.”

“I always hear you.”

I flung open the door. “Did you order furniture on my credit card?” I demanded.

“If we are both going to live here, can we at least agree on some ground rules?”

“Like what?” was almost purred in my ear. Looking around wildly, I still couldn’t see anything.

I was shaking now. “Is there a way for you to be less scary so I don’t have a heart attack?” I squeaked.

There was nothing but silence. Still my sense of the presence suggested it was gone.

I didn’t sleep that night. I would just start to nod off then jerk myself awake and look wildly around the room. I never saw anything.

Six am, my alarm went off and I could smell coffee.

All the dust had been swept up.

“Hello?” I whispered.

“Alright,” the voice said, coming from somewhere in the direction of the closet. “But don’t fall asleep at the table then.”

I breathed a faint sigh of relief. I wasn’t expecting the next part.

“You need to eat something now. You are still recovering.”

No.

But it would be better to look during the light of day.

Eventually, I made it up there. I put my hand on the knob and tried to turn it. It didn’t budge.

“You want rules?” the voice growled behind me. I spun, there was nothing there. “Do not open that door. Do not come into my space.”

I went from trembling from nerves to bolting down the stairs in an instant. I nearly tripped, but felt something - him? - catch me and set me on my feet.

“Careful,” he purred.

I spent the rest of the day in the garden again. I was still out there when the sun went down and the backlight turned on. Then the kitchen light and for a moment I could see something outlined against the antique curtains I hadn’t replaced in the kitchen. I tried to remind myself that he wasn’t necessarily that big. He might just be closer to the light and casting a bigger shadow.

I didn’t believe it, but I tried.

“Planning on staying up all night?”

I jumped. “How are you always behind me?”

“I live in the shadows. Go to bed.”

“Um… I was thinking, that should be your room, really. Your closet. You picked out the bed. I can just camp down -”

“No. Go to bed.”

“Do you really think I’m going to be able to sleep in a room with a closet that must not be opened? I have read Blue Beard, you know.”

“So have I. The wife gets the house and lives happily ever after.”

“The last wife does,” I pointed out. “The first dozen or so didn’t.”

He chuckled at that. “We made a deal, remember?”

“Are you teasing me? What deal?”

“I don’t touch you in your sleep. You don’t sleep in the kitchen anymore.”

“How big are you?”

The lights flickered and went off.

“Do you want to see me?” he purred, so close that I could feel his breath on my neck.

“Not in the dark,” I squeaked.

“Go to bed.”

The light snapped back on, leaving me blinking.

I spent the night sitting on the bed with my back pressed against the headboard trying to see the whole room at one. Eventually, I fell asleep.

I stared at it dumbly. I had replaced the plumbing to the kitchen sink and the downstairs powder room and had been washing out of the sink since I had been forced to stay home. The only other plumbing was the upstairs bathroom and the antique washing machine in the basement. I pushed the button on the coffee maker and slowly crept upstairs.

Sure enough the stack of copper pipe waiting in the other bedroom was gone.

Well, not gone. I could see it installed through the holes in the walls. I turned on the tap to the sink and sure enough, I had water. I now had an upstairs, working bathroom with a clawfoot tub.

And no walls.

“Thank you,” I mumbled, unsure if I was talking to myself.

“You’re welcome.” It was the least creepy, most normal thing I had heard from him.

#oh my god they were quarantined #quarantine #monster quarantine #exophilia #nyctophobia #shadow monster

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