#I was anxious about not doing a good enough job cleaning earlier

[holy-anxiety-batman]

I wish whichever of my flatmates left two burners on and a loaf of bread’s worth of crumbs next to the toaster the night I said I would clean the kitchen a very go fuck yourself

[drdemonprince]

do you have tips for distracting yourself from thoughts you don't want to have?

As we all know intellectual repression does not work, so I try thinking of a problem that I actually do want to solve rather than worrying about a hypothetical problem that doesn't exist yet or one that cannot be solved.

Like so: "okay, let's stop worrying about this writing project that I am not able to work on right now because I'm not even near a fucking computer, and instead let's worry about making a shopping list and a meal plan for this whole week of groceries."

Or: "Okay, I'm not gonna be able to fix the guilt over my role my dad's death at the moment, so let's think about when I am going to hang out with XYZ person I've been meaning to see for a while, and what I could invite that person to go do."

I also try throwing my brain a challenging problem or intellectual exercise related to a topic that I am interested in, or reading about. Like so:

"Okay, I'm worrying a lot about the future of my job, but that isn't helpful right now, because I don't even know who my new boss is gonna be yet and I won't for another year. But here's something I do want to think deeply about: I am reading this very interesting book by Freddy deBoer right now about how the left fails to build large enough coalitions to achieve real political power, and he makes some fair points, but doesn't that concern of his seem to contradict his earlier point about how the neurodiversity movement is too large of a movement and too big of a tent, with not enough focus on those with really high support needs who hate their mental illness? I wonder what Freddy would say to that question?"

And then I'll spend a good long while pondering that question.

Another way that I cope with intrusive negative thoughts is to ask myself if a line of obsessive thinking or worry is going to bring me closer to the kind of person I want to be. And if it won't, what is something that I could be thinking about that might help me better embody that person.

So if I'm reenacting a fight with my mom over and over again in my head, I might notice this, and tell myself: hey. This thing we are thinking about is only making us a more angry and resentful person, which we don't need any more practice on. We are already good at being angry and resentful. Where do we actually need to grow? Oh! I remember, I wanted to start doing more volunteer work. I'll spend the duration of this bus ride looking up some local mutual aid groups and putting their events in my calendar. And so on.

I really think of using my brain as a form of exercise, if you'll excuse me for sounding a bit sigma male -- everything we think about, we get better at thinking about. Every thought process we engage in with our brains, we make more reflexive and natural-seeming for us. So if I want to be a more compassionate person, I can just sit and think about people in a compassionate light to slowly expand that skill. I'm bored of my own misanthropy, anxious worrying, fault-finding, and work-related stress at this point. Rather than telling myself to stop thinking about those things, I try offering my brain something else to exercise with.

Another thing I'll do is just turn on a podcast that will keep my mind engaged. True Anon, Trillbilly Worker's Party, Anime Sickos are all favorites. Sometimes that's enough to quiet down the noise, especially if paired with a vigorous activity like cleaning or a long walk.

[theghostus]

"OHH I wanna dance with somebody....who loves me"

I found something about myself and the only maternal Uncle.

At one of my maternal family gatherings (did I say I hate people?), I discovered my maternal Uncle doesn't have a job. It's not that the government or his previous company didn't try to help him. He just refuses to IT, aka computer stuff. He tells everyone how he can't do computer stuff, open this and that. One of my cousins, whom I had never met, asked, "What are you doing now?" His reply, nonchalantly, "Oh, my job is lazing around at home. She continues, "Why don't you want to find a job?" His reply went along the lines of "Ah, I cannot la sit there and open this and that...cannot remember, etc. etc." What I don't understand is why an older Gen X and older adapt but younger Gen X and Millennials can't? I know it's a hard habit, but you do whatever it takes to survive.

The irony is that while we were deciding on a movie to watch, Mum went on to say just watch a cartoon everyone can watch. This same Uncle said, "Don't want. This is for kids. Don't want." Dude, you're practically a kid who doesn't earn any money, lazes around, and is a picky eater. Then going around the room, like Mr Know-It-All.

Another aunt quipped, "I'm just telling you it's about Christmas. Okay, I hope you're okay with it." I had to stop my eyes from rolling back so hard. This happens when you're married outside your religion and live in Canada.

I mean, I get it; my Uncle has the same hallucination as Mum. I hate it. My other Aunt, who lives with him, has to pick up and tolerate his shit. She had enough of taking care of her late grandma for many years. Now, she has her own health problems to take care of; he's being a big dumbass kid.

Hours earlier in the afternoon. Le Bf had theory training. Le Bf wanted to meet me so much for some playtime. He wanted to meet me after I went to meet my relatives. Fine, I try to come back early for him. However, when I did (I never like crowds anyway), he asked me if I could meet at his training building. Fine, I dragged my ass out. Again. I was anxious but kind of felt weird when he was not blowing up my phone, especially when I told him I'd be like 30 minutes. The moment got off the bus at the stop, took out the Google Map and turned towards that direction, I saw him. He, of course, wasn't alone. I saw his Bff waving his arm at me.

Of course, I was slightly miffed when I thought I could have our alone time like a couple. Also, earlier, I was anxious because the bus route went through one of those contraction workers' dormitories. I heard too many horror stories, but I kept my face under control. However, I couldn't hide my expression of what I was feeling towards the two as I crossed the road to get to them. Le Bf could tell I wasn't happy and asked why looked unhappy. I lied, I'm not.

I tend to notice people change their behaviour easily, especially towards me. There was a slight change in his Bff interaction with me. Usually, I would just be a light pole between him and Le Bf. He and Le Bf would talk in their language (which I understand but turn a deaf ear unless my name or her is mentioned. He knows I understand their language perfectly and managed to keep their convo clean). This was our second meeting since Xmas i think, and he began to banter with me. I wonder what changed.

Anyway, Le Bf treat dinner with him and me together. Supposedly, Le Bf has gotten his salary. Everyone had Western. My grilled fish with brown was super salty. Thank god for the salad. It helped to cut through the salt. Then we went to wait for his Bff coach bus. His Bff worked for a travel agency. He drives a group of passengers from SG to MSIA and vice versa. Obviously, his Bff tells him the good money he's making and gets him to join him. Hence, Le Bf is training to get his vocational license.

When the Coach bus came, I got in and looked around while they started cleaning. When they finished, I made my way to the front of the bus on the tour guide seat. While Le Bf changed the wiper water, he knelt down beside me. At first, I didn't hear him, but he said: "'Will you marry me?" I had to stop myself to laugh the fuck off at him. So I said, "Where's the ring?. No ring." He gave a silly grin. His Bff interjected, "Can buy at Couple Lab. $90 bucks can get a ring." Again, I had to stop myself from bringing out the auntie in me. Instead, I replied, "No, I want gold. No gold, not talk." In the end, we didn't get our playtime. Just some mouth action and groping.

On the way home, Le Bf started to plan how he could stay at my place, making it convenient for him to get his own coach bus. Then we could go to Malaysia for a short trip together whenever he has the weekend trips. To be honest, I was half listening to him. I don't know how often I get hyped up only to be disappointed.

I feel numb. I just nod. I don't want to be a wet blanket. I let him be excited. I don't want to think about the future, especially with anyone.

[rianafying]

i’m turning 23 in 2 months. it’s raining today. i just watched an episode of heartbreak high. i have 5 different very important emails to send and 300 pictures to edit for work. i also have to pick up some parcels from the post office. and also call nanu make sure she’s doing okay. i’m apprehensive all the time. i’ve been apprehensive for as long as i can remember. even in elementary school. i need to somehow miraculously manage my stress to get my cortisol levels down. and everyday for many many many days i’ve been the most exhausted person on the face of this planet, and yet i keep on limping through life. it’s not all bad, but i feel bad. at least it’s raining today. maybe i could listen to the new song i found earlier today. i wanna dance but to loud music. i feel uncomfortable with headphones on, it’s a sensory issue, i feel deprived and anxious. i wanna dance to some loud ass music. maybe 23 won’t be awful. 22 wasn’t the most awful year of my life. too much happens, all the time. i don’t want anything to happen ever. enough things have happened for one lifetime. please can the rest of my life be boring please.

i was wondering if i should throw away my fan, vacuum cleaner and steam oven or get a storage thing or risk offending my relatives by asking them to keep em in their garage. they all have two storey houses, what’s a little oven gonna do to ruin that? my mother is an unstable woman. and for that i have suffered and continue to suffer, but i believe it’ll get better when i won’t have to depend on her financially. i kind of want to disappear. for like a long time. but where would i go? what would i wear/eat? i’ve been disappointed in my inability to do a regular job. it’s not even the job that’s the issue, it’s the application process. my sibling said they’ll help me w it but i still don’t do it. i had a whole box of cherries this morning. i’d been craving cherries for such a long time. finally gave in. i wish i was better at things. like cleaning, working, etc. it seems as if i’ve lost interest in doing things. even things i’m supposed to love doing. they say it’s depression and i believe they, but what next? what now? i hope my fake will to live becomes real someday. i might not make it. but i do try. everyday i try.

my bed has been good to me. i have not been good to my bed. it needs serious cleaning, there’s crumbs on it. but my bed has been good to me. january’s such a strange month. so much to think about. which is the last thing i want to do. think. i wish i could dump out all this chaos vomit from my head and wash it out with cold water. have a fresh start. new year new me?

when will it be worth it? i live for my sibling. their well-being is worth it. at least i have someone to love unconditionally. not the most glamorous purpose in life. but it’s a purpose that i never doubt. maybe i’ll find some shiny cool new other purposes to add on to it.

i’m grateful for tumblr and my notes app. i couldn’t have done it without u two. but yeah, about the years passing me by. oh tell me why, i’m doomed to hold on to this fight. while i stay in all day shutting away these thoughts i have to hide. but i’m kidding myself i know that nothing can change the way i feel inside. it doesn’t have to be so difficult. i can’t be a part of this villainy. at least i’m not currently dealing with the perils of romantic heartbreak.

[justwritedreams]

Welcome to the Kingdom | Jeno

Chapter Four: Real or not real?

Prince Jeno x Princess Reader, enemies to lovers au!, royalty au! 

Word count: 4510 Genre: drama, very slow burn Author: maari Warnings: None I think? Note: I finished earlier than expected and wanted to post right now because that’s probably my fav chapter for now 👀 Summary: The royal engagement will be announced to the press. Just not the way the princess thinks.

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⪢ NCT Masterlist

Y/N didn't know how but she was drowning in the dark and violent sea, in full drift and far from the coast, which was very strange because she knew how to swim.

Didn't have any boats or ships around her, all she found was the immensity of the waters that pulled her down all the time. Her arms felt tired but her breath didn't seem to fail even as circled the point where she was, looking for something to get her out of the sea. Or someone.

She didn't remember what had happened to get her there but there was a part of her that warned that it was an illusion and she wasn't afraid, even though the other part said she should.

As a princess she had been raised to be afraid of absolutely nothing, even though she has, as the only heiress she could never show her weaknesses and had been doing a good job up until then.

Though the force of the sea was pulling her down more and more, she didn't feel despair at being there alone, but when a thunder ripped through the sky and lit up the pitch black she was in, making the sea far scarier than really was, the screeching noise made her heart jump inside her body. She sank into the sea and lost her strength completely and too quickly.

Suddenly, the surface started to get away and she couldn't fight the current that was pulling her down, even though her arms and legs beat, she couldn't go up and as much as she knew she should try, her body gave way.

She was about to tumble through the darkness of the ocean, her eyes growing heavy when she felt a strong hand on her wrist, pulling her up to meet a broad chest, an arm wrapped around her waist as she was carried up, she hadn’t time to react when felt the hands around her body and a shiver ran down her spine.

In the same second she broke the surface, clinging to her savior's body as if her life depended on it and indeed that was how she felt.

The sea was calm now, the pitch black replaced by a clean sky that left her confused and she found herself pulling her face away to get a better look at the face of the one who had saved her but still holding the hug because she was afraid.

She was even more confused when she looked at Jeno's face, he was serious but serene. The wet dark hair over his eyes didn't stop her from seeing how intense they were, she felt something.

A tingle, an electricity. She didn't know what it was because she had never felt it before, but for some unknown reason, she had a feeling that Jeno wouldn't save her just this time.

And then, it was no longer the violent sea pulling at her, it was Jeno's dark eyes. She didn't understand how but she couldn't tear her eyes away from his, not even blink with the intensity. She wasn't just trapped in his arms.

Against everything she felt, she brought her face closer to his and heavy breaths mingled before their lips met in a soft way that made her feel like she was being pulled into a black hole.

When she pulled back and opened her eyes, she saw Jeno's image distort along with the sunlight rising behind him, it was strong enough to bother her eyes and she had to close them, and then brought her back to reality.

The princess felt the need to snap her fingers to release all the nervousness she felt but she held back, she didn't want to show it to anyone. She'd been sitting in the hair stylist's chair for just over half an hour, she'd already had her natural and simple makeup done and every time the clock moved quickly, she felt like she was riding a roller coaster.

She didn't want to feel anxious because it was ridiculous but that damn dream she'd had with Jeno had messed with her, he hadn't appeared in her subconscious in a month so why would it appear now?

Just because it was the fateful day that her engagement to Prince Lee would be announced to the press?

And why could she still feel the texture of his lips on hers?

In fact, why the hell had dreamed she'd kissed Jeno?

It didn't make any sense.

When the queen entered the room, she felt even more anxious and the hair stylist moved away, swiveling her chair so the princess could face the queen.

"You look beautiful!" Her mother put her hand to her heart, visibly moved.

The princess smiled, rising from her chair and adjusting the dress she was wearing as her mother looked her up and down.

The mid-length dress was of a very light green tone without sleeves and with a discreet neckline, she wore silver heeled sandals and her hair was half up, she wore the earrings that belonged to her mother and the bracelet she had received when she turned 15. Perfectly ready for a photo shoot as she would officially announce her engagement.

“Is everyone ready?” Y/N asked, putting her sweaty hands together.

“Yes, the photographer is already downstairs.” the queen replied and the princess shook her head.

She turned to smile at the hair stylist in thanks and then left the room, accompanied by her mother.

"Don't forget what we talked about last week, daughter." the mother remembered, causing the princess to just nod as she felt butterflies in her stomach as walked down the stairs.

She still didn't understand why she would have to pretend to the photographer and the magazine staff that she and Jeno didn't hate each other, what mattered was only the result of the photos that would be meticulously selected.

They went to the castle parlor, all the equipment was ready and the team as well.

"Good Morning." she spoke up, seeing everyone bow to her, responding in unison and saw Jeno turn to face her.

She would have kept the pose if hadn't noticed the outfit Jeno was wearing. The button-down shirt that was closed all the way - and miraculously he wasn't leaving his chest exposed - and the tie was a shade of color much like her dress, the white suspenders, pants and shoes in the same bright white left the two in exactly the same color palette as if they were… the perfect couple.

Either it was pure coincidence or it had been on purpose, and considering that the queen had chosen the princess's outfit, Y/N didn't believe in coincidence in this case.

She couldn't deny it, Jeno was handsome. He didn't usually dress like the princes she had known, he was never limited to simple suits, he always went above and beyond. He wore rings and necklaces to add even more to the look.

And none of the royals from any of the kingdoms dared say anything because that was Jeno, no matter what he wore, he would still be handsome.

Y/N swallowed hard at the sight of him walking towards her and she froze when he placed a quick kiss on her cheek.

"Don't freak out, it's all part of the show." he spoke softly close to her ear, which had to contain the shiver that insisted on passing through her body.

Oh, for God's sake!

"I'll kill you." she replied just for him to hear as she faked a friendly smile at the staff who were watching them attentively.

Jeno walked away, offering his arm to the princess who took a deep breath before accepting, would spend the next hour touching Jeno and laughing at him. It was absurd to think about how she had tried to prepare for this moment for the past month, yet she still felt completely the opposite.

"Darling, Edward thinks we'd better start with our pictures." Y/N turned to face Jeno at the word darling, suppressed the urge to raise an eyebrow. “And then the pictures of your engagement ring.”

Oh sure, the photos of the expensive engagement ring that had been in the Lee family for decades and now belonged to her. She still felt like the ring weighed a ton in her hand. It was King Taeyong's demand to show that the engagement was serious. "I think it's great." she replied, keeping her tone light.

“Please, Your Highness.” the photographer pointed to the couch and Y/N took a deep breath after moving away from Jeno, heading for the couch.

Jeno stood behind the sofa while the princess was seated, the first photos were more serious, changing only the way she kept her hands on her lap or on top of the sofa and crossed her ankles, not her legs after all the dress would give a tighter view of her thighs and she didn't want to draw attention to that area.

Y/N was screaming internally and maybe that's why she couldn't smile showing her teeth, it would come out too fake. They could just post her engagement ring pictures and that was enough.

The photographer asked the couple to come closer and the princess was forced to get up, Jeno put his arm around her waist and the thin fabric of the dress made her feel the heat of his palm, and she didn't react. She didn't know where to put her hands or how to smile.

Jeno noticed that the photographer was somehow trying to get a less restrained smile from Y/N, praising her outfit or ring but it didn't help much, so he decided to act.

"Sorry, she's nervous." he justified and turned to look at her.

Y/N did the same, blinking more than usual. She was nervous, but it wasn't for the reason that the photographer and the team imagined.

"Love." he called out to her, the word never sounded so abnormal coming from Jeno's mouth. “Do you remember the spring ball the Kim royal family provided when we were younger?”

Y/N smiled slightly, she would hardly forget that day.

"That we were playing hide and seek in the castle maze." she remembered and Jeno nodded smiling.

“Me, you, Mark and Haechan.” he continued and she laughed at the memory.

“And Haechan fell and hurt his pinky finger before he could find me.” Jeno laughed and she placed a hand on her chest, trying not to giggle.

“Do you remember how he slipped on the flower that had fallen?” She nodded without realizing it, placing her hand on Jeno's free arm.

“It was such a funny fall.” she reminisced and Jeno laughed harder, showing his perfect teeth. “Poor thing, he ran crying into the ball.”

“Do you know that his finger never grew normal again?” Jeno spoke and she laughed once more.

"Okay, done." Edward spoke and the princess turned to face him, still laughing. One more flash.

Wait…

"Can I take one of your hands together?” he asked and Y/N looked down, realizing only now that she was still holding Jeno's hand.

She nodded, confused, and the photographer approached as she stared at Jeno not knowing what to say.

He blinked but not teasingly like he always did, it looked more like… complicity.

He'd purposely remembered the story so she'd laugh for the cameras, she didn't even realize the nervousness had gone.

Jeno caressed the princess's hand with his thumb and she took a deep breath, unable to retract as the photographer was too busy taking pictures of that moment, feeling a strange wave pass through her body.

“Now, we can do some more serious ones.” Edward backed away, placing a hand on his chin and motioning them to stand by the window. “Your Highness, can you bring your face closer to the princess’s?” he addressed Jeno and Y/N looked at the photographer in surprise.

What?

"Sure." he replied, doing what Edward had said and his breath hit Y/N's cheek and she swallowed hard.

"Your Highness, can you look at the prince?"

WHAT?

The princess bit her tongue to prevent saying what she really wanted and just nodded. She turned her head, looking at Jeno who was staring at her deeply and this time she didn't have the strength in the world to make her hold back the shiver that went through the back of her neck and down her spine.

It was the first time she had been this close to Jeno, he still had his arm around her waist and their faces were inches from touching, his breath had never been closer and she kept her eyes fixed on his, even though his lips were practically crying out for her.

She couldn't give in, if she showed that weakness now, she would be lost.

Every muscle in her body screamed for her to back off because it was dangerous and God, this wasn't a Vogue shoot. They didn't need to pose like actors used to do, it was simple and traditional, but she knew the magazine would take advantage of the situation since they wouldn't give an interview, after all this had all been agreed with the royal marketing team. The story of what the proposal had been like had already been released to the magazine even before the photo shoot began.

But now being so close to him, she could see the mole below his eye that she had never noticed, how his eyelashes were drooping forward and he was wearing contact lenses. This took her by surprise, she didn't know that Jeno wore lenses.

It was then that she noticed that some strands of his hair fell over his eyes, forcing him to blink more than usual and on impulse, she moved the strands away with her finger. She didn't even touch Jeno, but seeing that he was staring at her more intensely, she withdrew her hand, suddenly feeling shy and her cheeks burning.

“We’re done, Your Highnesses.” Edward announced, making the princess sigh and prepare to walk away from Jeno completely.

However, he prevented her from doing so, holding her even tighter against his body.

"Thanks Edward." Jeno spoke, visibly calm and Y/N envied him. How could he be so calm?

“By the end of the day the article will be published.” the photographer assured and the two nodded in agreement.

"Thank you!" Y/N replied, her voice still a little shaky and she cursed herself for it.

The team started to dismantle the equipment and the princess decided she needed to get out of there, she walked away from Jeno but he didn't let go of her completely, he held her hand to accompany her until they were out of the room.

"Congratulations on the wedding." the two turned at the same moment, seeing Edward smile cordially. “May you be very happy.”

"And we will." Jeno replied, smiling in a way Y/N knew well and she wished she could roll her eyes.

Y/N nodded and continued walking, still with Jeno holding her hand. When they were in the other hallway, she moved away from him angrily, glaring at him.

"There's no one here, you don't have to pretend anymore." she started to walk more quickly and heard Jeno's laugh echo down the hall, that laugh she hated because it was full of teasing. “That must be pretty funny for you!”

"You have no idea." Jeno didn't seem worried about catching up, but continued walking after her through the castle. “Especially after what I saw today.”

Y/N stopped where she was and turned to face him, impatient.

“And what was that?” she asked through gritted teeth, crossing her arms. She didn't even notice the way Jeno stared at her body, the neckline of the dress was discreet but with the movement her boobs lifted slightly.

Jeno smirked and walked over to be close to her, far enough away that the bodies weren't touching but close enough to face her with conviction.

"You're dying to kiss me." he finished and she felt her jaw drop in shock and surprise.

All that came to her mind was the dream she had that same day, she could still feel the texture of Jeno's lips from her dreams.

She laughed, without humor while shook her head. She would deny it, spend the rest of her life denying it.

“In your dreams, Lee!” she replied, turning her back still with her arms crossed and started to walk away, stamping her feet harder on the floor.

"No, princess." she heard Jeno speak loudly from the hallway and just turned to face him again, he was smiling. "In yours."

[...]

The princess was angry. That was definitely not a good day.

And it got even worse when she learned that Jeno would stay at the castle until dinner, at the invitation of the Queen who seemed to do everything to make him feel at home.

Well, she understood why. Jeno would be the future king one day, she would have to get used to the kingdom and more than that, he would need to love as much as Y/N did.

But she wasn't comfortable with that. She would have some time to prepare until Jeno officially moved into her castle after the wedding, for now she just wanted to enjoy the time of freedom she had before having to bump into him every day inside her own home. She had to sit at the table and watch him there.

She wanted to avoid him, especially after that photo shoot that seemed to become another reason for his teasing.

But she also didn't understand what had happened to herself. Why did her hand push Jeno's hair out of his eyes? Screw if it was bothering him, he had two hands to do it himself.

Conversations with cousin Yeri haunted her head, out of so many problems she had to solve, giving heirs to the throne was the only one she hadn't stopped to remember.

It did make her shiver from head to toe, because if she hadn't been able to control herself in a simple photo shoot, what would it be like when they had to provide heirs?

If she hadn't made that childish, idiotic bet, she might not have felt that something was holding her back from having a friendly relationship with him.

What? No!

Jeno would never leave her alone, he would never just want a friendly relationship, he hasn't wanted that all his life why would he change after marriage?

She laughed at herself for even considering the possibility of maintaining a friendly relationship with him, she wasn't that deluded at that point.

So angry, she changed her clothes and put on a short black dress, no longer wanting to contrast the same color as Jeno's clothes, and when it was announced that dinner was served she took several deep breaths before going down to the dining room.

And by some reason of fate, Jeno also wore black clothes. A vest that left his entire neck exposed and a little of his chest, and pants made of the same fabric as the vest. And only that. He didn't even wear a shirt underneath.

What a mania not wearing a decent shirt.

Why didn't he go back to wearing jeans and white T-shirts like he always did?

She completely ignored him, failing to see the way he stared at her bare legs, and sat down beside him in her usual chair. Of course, the queen had to have placed him next to the princess.

Dinner was actually a feast, it was common for the queen to order the table to be full when guests were at the castle and Jeno seemed to enjoy the food, praising and thanking the royal family for their hospitality.

Y/N kept quiet the entire time, didn't want to sound rude and was trying to show her father that she was trying hard to not hate Jeno as much as he had asked. She was quiet rather than rude.

The princess was surprised at the way her father spoke comfortably to Jeno, but it served to lighten the dinner.

When they had finished eating the main course and dessert was being served, one of the servants brought the magazine to the king.

“Oh look, the story just came out.” he announced.

Y/N released the cutlery she was holding, looking at her father trying to decipher his expression but couldn't, the king then looked at his wife and they exchanged a knowing look, then extended the magazine to his daughter.

She took it cautiously and turned her attention to the magazine but it was quickly dispersed when Jeno bent over his chair to read it too. She took a deep breath and looked back at the cover.

She was surprised, the photo looked more romantic than she imagined, she had her eyes closed as Jeno stared at her intensely while the window was the background. The photo was beautiful, she didn't deny it. Further down the picture of her engagement ring while her hand was over Jeno's.

But what caught the princess's attention the most was the title.

“EXCLUSIVE: THE ROYAL WEDDING OF THE CENTURY

How Y/N and Jeno's impossible love will forever change both kingdoms."

Uh... What?

Not caring if Jeno was still reading or not, she turned the pages until she found the article about her marriage and felt her face give way in sheer shock.

She hadn't read the story the royal family's marketing team had released to the press until then, but now that she did, she just thought about how absurd it was.

The cover title was not intended for people to buy the magazine, the story they had created was that she and Jeno were the youngest Romeo and Juliet.

The fight between the families and kingdoms that had pushed each other and ended up falling in love, too young to fight that love, the two began to fight to live together and after so many wars and disagreements, they were now coming together to leave any rivalry behind for good.

Romeo and Juliet with a happy ending.

And the proven chemistry in that photo shoot.

Anyone looking at the photos without knowing them could only interpret that they were too in love to live apart from each other or worse, with someone else.

Y/N felt her head spin as she read, it felt like she was trapped in a maze. There she was, photographed and described in the country's most famous magazine as if she were hopelessly in love with Jeno.

Maybe this wouldn't be so bad if from now on, she had to pretend this story was real.

The population had won a love story and she a lie.

“Did you guys agree to this?” she looked up to face her parents and they were calm.

“It was the only way.” the king decreed and she laughed, without any humor.

“That's a lie!” she noted, aloud and everyone remained silent. “Do you agree to keep a completely untrue story to the press?”

“What did you want us to say, daughter?” the queen spoke. "That you and Jeno have hated each other forever, and will only get married because it's an alliance?"

"And isn't it the truth?" she questioned, looking at Jeno then hoping he would agree with her, but all he did was shift in his chair uncomfortably.

“Our kingdom has been heavily criticized for actions we have tried to take for peace between both kingdoms.” the king explained.

“And you needed a smokescreen to let the criticism subside.” she concluded. “And you thought nothing would be better than an impossible love story that has a happy ending. Something people could believe in”

The king nodded silently and the princess took a deep breath before getting up from her chair and tossing the magazine onto the table.

“I lost my appetite, excuse me.” she said, walking out of the dining room in long, heavy strides.

With her head still spinning, she headed for the castle library as heard footsteps behind her but didn't bother to see who was.

She ran her hand over her face already inside the room, looking at a fixed point without blinking.

Why did everything seem to get more and more complicated since she'd found out she was engaged to Jeno? She has never felt so pressured with her duty until now. Ruling a kingdom was difficult, giving that kind of hope to her people was even worse. The hope that love always wins in the end, when she didn't even know what that word meant.

She heard someone close the door and turned to see who it was, surprisingly Jeno was standing with his hands in the back pockets of his pants.

"I don't have the patience to put up with you right now." she said, turning away.

"Don't you think you're exaggerating a little?"

Maybe she was but she couldn't control it.

"I don't want to build my legacy on a lie, I don't know if you understand that, but I don't want to pretend to be someone that I’m not just to please a part of the media and parliament." she complained, looking back at Jeno.

He had an unreadable expression but it was soft, almost comforting.

"It doesn't have to be based on a lie." he spoke calmly and she looked at him with a raised eyebrow, confused. Jeno approached her, keeping his eyes fixed on her. "We can change that."

That left the princess somewhat surprised. Did Jeno look as worried as she did?

Didn't he also want to live in a lie?

"I don't want to have to fake it all the time." he shrugged and now she was shocked, and slightly happy. "You just admit that I won the bet and we-"

"Of course!" Y/N laughed out loud, pulling away from Jeno and heading towards the door. "The bet. Why did I delude myself into thinking you had the same principles as mine?” he turned to face her, now he was the one who was confused. “All that matters to you is winning that damn bet!”

"Don't act like this isn't what's stopping you from hating me." he countered angrily, making the princess gulp.

"Stop talking like you know me."

Jeno laughed, crossing his arms and she had to take a deep breath to control the urge to watch his biceps get bigger with the movement.

"I know you and you don't even know how much, princess." he smirked and walked over to her, stopping beside her, looking her up and down, making a shiver run through her body. "Enough to know your hate isn't real."

That said, Jeno left the library slamming the door behind him and leaving Y/N alone and completely lost.

How to distinguish now what was real and what was a lie?

Taglist: @floweronacloud​, @cookydream​, @travelleratheart101​, @ilvaussie​, @tyongf-sunflower99​, @mings-cafe​,  @n0hyuck​

[head-empty-only-sunshine]

Revenge

Moon X Reader

A/N: Your honor, he deserved it. <3

Description: You finally get your chance at revenge against Moon. It's your turn to tease and tickle him, with the added assistance of maxed out sensors. Poor guy.

Tags: fluff, tickling, established relationship, gn!reader, lee!moon

Word Count: 1692

Once again it was time for the monthly diagnostics check on the animatronics. As head tech, you of course had to take care of it all yourself. That however, was actually a benefit. You had something sneaky planned today, so having time alone with a certain animatronic was exactly what you needed. There was a little surprise in store for Moon; some harmless fun bundled up in a scheme for your partner. You couldn’t wait to get to him, so you ever so slightly rushed your work to finish faster.

You still did your job well of course, but by the time you had worked with all the other animatronics you were giddy beyond belief. Sun was the next you saw, then Moon, and you could now start on your little surprise. With him sitting next to you hooked up to your laptop, it would be so easy.

“Notice anything weird in my programming again?” Moon pondered, watching over your shoulder while you opened and closed a few applications.

“Mmm, nope. You’re good so far.” You reassured him.

“Ah… Good. So, what’s all that stuff you’re looking at there then?”

“Oh this? This is a program I can use to modify any internal settings you have. It’s really convenient for quick adjustments when needed!” You explained innocently.

“Ah. That is quite convenient. Do I need an adjustment then?” Moon asked further.

“Actually, yes.” You nodded. “Just one though. Nothing too crazy.”

Moon watched as you pulled up a window with a slider on it. You dragged the little bar all the way to the top of the meter where it said ‘sensitivity’ and maxed it out. He was curious, and wondered what exactly that pertained to.

“So, what’s that for?”

You didn’t answer right away. You instead let a sly grin spread on your face and unplugged Moon from your laptop. Moon then received his answer when you placed a hand on his chest plate and dragged it down gently, making him jolt with surprise and back up a little. The feeling was intense, and he looked at you with wide eyes.

“I just turned up your sensors, is all~” You finally informed him. “You know, so I can get a little revenge for that time you tickled me breathless, my dear Moon.”

“TRAITOR!” Moon screeched, voice glitching with an anxious edge.

“You did it first! You had your warning. Run, my beloved celestial partner~!”

He was already running as fast as he could. The tables had been turned against him, and he knew he’d be screwed if he was caught. Slight regret ran through his mind for how much he teased you that day, because he knew you weren’t one to mess around. He saw what you did. That sensitivity setting had been maxed out, and the simple act of you touching his chest was such an intense shock he knew he wouldn’t be able to handle you exacting your revenge. So, he ran with all his might and hoped you would tire out before you could catch him.

Unfortunately, you were filled to the brim with energy, eagerly chasing after Moon with fire in your eyes. You had spent a long time waiting for the perfect moment to exact your revenge and you weren’t about to let it slip away. You had come prepared, and you would win.

Earlier before you came to check up on Moon, you had strewn about some of the colourful barrels on common walking paths, hoping it would get in his way. Your calculations were in fact correct, and Moon’s were not. He didn’t even consider that there might possibly be a mess because Sun had just cleaned up prior to your visit, so when the barrels presented themselves in his path, he panicked and couldn’t compute a counter maneuver quick enough. Moon tripped on those barrels you had laid out and face planted into the cushiony floor, securing his doom. You were on top of him within seconds, the mere feeling of you just sitting there sending a staticky wave of tingles through his systems.

He technically couldn’t do anything. Any move he made sent jolts of tingles through his sensors, whether it be brushing his arms against the soft floor, the feeling of your clothing brushing against his casing, or even just the pressure of you sitting on him. It was all so amplified thanks to your mild tampering so he was relatively discouraged from moving too much. He also didn’t want to hurt you, since you were light as a feather to him in comparison. He was doubly pinned by non restrictive forces, and that was beyond torturous enough for him. The little smirk you wore was just the cherry on top, and if he could physically break out into a nervous sweat, he would.

“M-moonbeam, don’t you have o-other animatronics to help today?” Moon tried to divert.

“Nope~ You’re my last stop~!” You sang. “I did it on purpose, juuuuust so I could catch you~”

“Listen I don’t think it’s very fair! You turned up my sensors! Let me go freEEEE! S-Starlight stohohop!”

“Less talking, more laughing, Moonpie.” You teased.

No matter how much talking he did, you would not be convinced otherwise. It was time for revenge, and boy was it sweet. With that amplified sensitivity, Moon was a mess within seconds, completely disarmed by the lightest of touches. All you had to do was run your fingers gently along the seams of some parts of his casing to put him in stitches, desperate laughter pouring out of him. He couldn’t even fight back, the sensation far too much to make any calculated movements without hurting you.

“P-plehehease! Moonbeam stohohop!” He begged.

“Mmm, nah~. You didn’t stop when I was the one under attack, so why should I stop for you~?” You hummed, gently clawing your hands up his abdomen.

“I’m sorry I’m sOHOHORRY!”

Moon once again succumbed to laughter when you pinched at his soft casing where you would consider his hips to be. The poor guy was beyond embarrassed and tried to cover his face with his hands and arms, but the moment he raised them you used one hand to reach up and claw at the joint where his arm connected to his shoulder, earning a staticky sputter of joyous laughter. There was some barely comprehensible cussing directed at the team who made the touch sensor technology, wishing they hadn’t made it so good. It was a curse and a blessing to have such advanced technology.

Poor Moon had almost had enough by now. You had started gently dragging the pads of your fingers over his midsection, and you could feel the static from how much he was giggling. He was clearly firing off all signals while under your ticklish assault, and it was the cutest thing you had ever seen. His face was bright blue with blush, letting loose a stream of deep giggles that sounded almost musical to you. This must have been how he felt when he discovered your ticklishness, and admittedly, you felt powerful to have your partner so vulnerable before you. The fact that he hadn’t thrown you into the ball pit was enough to tell you he trusted you, and that warmed your heart.

Eventually though you decided to stop. Despite the knowledge of him having unlimited stamina, you figured he’d had enough. With one more gentle squeeze to his side and a quick little scrape of your nails, you ceased your fire and let him rest. With the relief finally being granted to him, his laughter slowly decreased to mere quiet giggles, lying defeated on the floor with you still atop him.

“I got my revenge~” You hummed, lying atop his chest now.

Moon threw his arms up and around you suddenly and trapped you in a hug. Your own giggles came forth now when he rolled over with you still in his grasp, adoring how he still carefully held you.

“You. Tell. No one.” Moon muttered.

“What? About how ticklish you are? Awww, are you scared you’re gonna get tickled to death by others~?” You teased.

“You forget I know all your best spots, starlight. Don’t tell anyone, and I won’t return fire tenfold.” He warned, his own mischievous grin spreading on his face now.

“Eep! A-alright, you’ve got a deal!” You chuckled.

“Good. Now please return my settings back to normal. Everything I touch is still so… intense.” He mumbled.

“Alright, let’s go.”

With a nod, you and Moon stood up from the ground and carefully made your way back to your laptop. The last program was still open, so once he was all hooked up again you returned his settings back to normal immediately. You made sure he saw your screen when you did it so he could assure you were being honest. He trusted you already, but greatly appreciated the extra effort you put in to show him he was back to normal. You really were the best tech he’d had in years with all this effort you put in for him. The fact that you were partners though is what really made you the best tech. That much was undeniable.

“Sorry about that moon pie. That was a little invasive of me. I won’t do it again, m’kay?” You promised, feeling just a little guilty for tampering with his settings.

“Just… Just ask next time and I won’t really mind…” He replied quietly.

“Oh? Oh???? So are you saying you don’t mind if I tickle you?” You questioned with a growing grin.

“TELL. NO ONE.” Moon reiterated with an intense tone.

He was unable to cover up that flustered little glitch in his tone he did when he was embarrassed though, and you caught it. Giggling once again you unhooked Moon and gave him a sweet and gentle kiss while you were already so close to his face, quelling his building attitude with your affection. He grumbled and accepted your gesture, wrapping you in a hug once again now that the job was done.

“You owe me. Stay for a nap.” He muttered.

“With pleasure~”

[strawberryspence]

A Dinner and A Future

Fluff | Spencer Reid x Reader

Summary: Spencer just wants your first date to be perfect and surprisingly, it goes really well.

Word Count: 3,7k.

Warnings: some cursing, first date nerves, but that's it. just pure mindless fluff.

Writer’s Note: Hello! I've been going through a writing dry spell and the thing that solved it was writing this. I've been seeing a lot of edits on tiktok about Spencer's traumas and I just wanted to give him something simple and happy. I was also listening to Kodaline on repeat while reading this, so yeah it's going be hella sappy. Enjoy! <3

Gif is mine. Lesley Smith-Juniment, you have my heart.

Spencer is nervous.

Wait no, scratch that, nervous is not good enough. He was brimming to the edge with worry and queasiness. What other synonyms does nervous have? Spencer was antsy, anxious, perturbed, uneasy, at this point he can recite the whole thesaurus.

Spencer closes his eyes and takes a deep breathe. He can do this. He has waited for this for a long time and he won’t waste it because of burnt pasta.

Okay, he looks back at the note that David Rossi himself wrote in his own special handwriting.

1. Cook 1 pound pasta until Al Dente. Boy Genius, Al Dente should be firm when bitten. You cook it on a boiling water with salt and oil. SALT AND OIL.

2. While that’s cooking, do nothing. LITERALLY DO NOTHING. Watch it. Do the sauce later. In some miraculous way, if you don’t watch the pasta you’ll burn it.

A grin spreads across Spencer’s face as he puts down the paper and reaches for the fettuccine pasta and dropping it on the boiling water (which he measured with measuring cups he borrowed from JJ)

“Okay, now I wait for it to boil.” Spencer stares at the pasta as it cooks. Did he buy enough parmesan cheese? or enough pecorino cheese? Oh no. He looks over the other side of his counter where all the (complete) ingredients sit and he sighs in relief as if he hasn’t checked it 15 times since he started.

The pasta was still cooking and isn’t going to be firm anytime soon. Spencer ponders if he should just cook the sauce while waiting but he knows he’s going to mess it up if he doesn’t give it his undivided attention.

He looks at the watch on his wrist as it ticks to 5:21. He has one hour, thirty nine minutes and forty six seconds. He still has time before the date. The date with you.

It took him nine months, Derek and Emily annoying him to death to just ask the pretty librarian out, one extensive background research from Penelope, two separate talks of the “You deserve to be happy” advice from JJ and Hotch and one lecture about marriage from Rossi to finally ask you out.

He’s kinda annoyed really because he spent so much time thinking about you and thinking of the perfect way to ask you out but he shows up at the library you work at one day with a cup of coffee in hand and his heart on the other.

You didn’t even hesitate. There was no pause to process what he asked, there was no questions following the embarrassing stumbling of the words, “W-will you go have d-dinner with me? L-like a date... Date?” You immediately said yes with a small hop and the biggest smile on your face.

This date has to be perfect. He asked you to come to his apartment at 7. Spencer would’ve picked you up but he was making you a home made dinner and the date was taking place on the rooftop of you apartment, which Penelope and Derek helped him decorate with lights.

He tries the pasta and when its finally firm to the bite, he takes this as his queue to read the paper again. Of course, he can remember all of the instructions but Rossi still wrote it down and reading it calms his nerves.

3. If its cooked, drain your pasta water but leave a little pasta water on the side. Then you can continue.

4. In a pan on MEDIUM heat (just around 2-3 on the stove setting) cook one pound diced pancetta and 1 cup chopped onions in olive. Put this down and chop chop!

Spencer puts the paper down as he follows the instructions to drain the pasta. After he was done with it he puts the pan on the stove and starts chopping up the ingredients he needs.

Cooking is strangely calming. He never thought he’d find it calming. He always found himself burning stuff. So he sticks to the microwaveable meals and fast foods, even if he knows the statistics about these kinds of food.

After finishing the chopping he reaches over the paper and reads it again.

5. Are you done? Okay. Put the chopped stuff on the pan with olive oil and cook it until the pancetta is browned and onions are soft.

He immediately follows the instructions written. The onion and pancetta create a silent hiss as it hits the pan. As it cook he looks down again.

6. That’s going to take a while, so leave it but stay by its side. I am giving you permission to do two things at once. Dr. Reid, please be mindful of it.

Spencer rolls his eyes before proceeding to #7.

7. Combine the two cheeses. Then divide it in half. Then pour the half into 4 egg YOLKS. Just yolks! The yellow ones! Then beat it lightly until its really combined.

He has already separated the egg yolks from the whites (a job he didn’t think would be that hard but was surprisingly very hard) before he started cooking. He adds the combination of cheeses to the eggs and lightly beats it as he watches the pan of onions and pancetta sizzle.

When done with the egg and cheese combo, he gives the pan a stir before looking back down.

8. Is the egg done? Yes? Good. Is the pancetta and onion good? Yes? Good.

9. Okay, now you put your pasta in the pancetta pan.

10. REMOVE IT FROM THE HEAT! REMOVE IT!

Spencer follows the instructions to the T. He puts the pasta on the pancetta, gives it a stir and immediately removes it from the heat. He sighs in relief. He hasn’t burned anything yet.

11. You haven’t burned anything yet? I am proud of you.

12. Now, pour the egg mixture into the pan and toss the pasta until coated. TOSS IT GENTLY. If you’re scared use tongs.

13. Pour about 1/4 cup of the pasta water I told you to set aside earlier. You don’t have to pour all 1/4 cup, just until you get the creaminess you want.

Spencer reaches over the nearest tongs. He’s not going to toss anything tonight that involves pastas or pans. He’s taking the safe road because he wants everything to be perfect.

14. Add the rest of your cheese! Toss some more and then add salt and pepper as NEEDED!

15. You can serve it with parsley.

16. Now, go take a shower and change into some cleaner clothes.

17. Just be you and have fun, Spencer. Goodluck! :)

Spencer smiles as he puts the paper down and makes the finals touches to the pasta. He starts doing what was instructed and it surprisingly, ends up in the perfect texture. Just like the one he tasted when Rossi had a pasta night.

He was proud of himself as he takes it off the stove and makes sure that all the stoves are turned off. There was this report he read in 2018, that cooking and leaving the stove open was the leading cause of home fires.

He takes the food, puts it into a fancy tupperware (another thing he borrowed from JJ) and puts it in the microwave. He cleans up a little and stuffs the pans and pots to the dishwasher, because you are coming in his apartment even for a second.

He starts getting himself ready for the date with a shower. As the warm water glides through his body he thinks of how funny life could be.

Spencer first meets you in the library. He has not slept well in weeks so instead he opts to go to the library to get some reading done. But as soon as he sits in one of the (surprisingly) comfortable leather chairs, its as if sleep knocks him out. It wasn’t until the closing time that you wake him up and he thinks that you were an angel sent for him. This elicits a giggle from you.

“I am sorry, I am not an angel. I am just the librarian and we’ve been close for over an hour now. I just didn’t want to wake you up. You looked like you really needed that sleep.” Spencer immediately jumps to his feet as he apologizes profusely to the kind librarian, “Oh, it’s okay! Don’t say sorry. I was also reading so I didn’t mind the peace and quiet.”

That’s how Spencer meets you. He comes back a few days later after a case with coffee, croissant and an apology. You immediately become friends and thats how all of this started. Spencer finds himself falling in love with the kind, gorgeous, clever librarian faster than he expected.

Every week after that, Spencer comes to the library with pastries and coffees for his favourite librarian and every week, you welcome Spencer with a warm smile and a new book for him to read. He can read it in one sitting but he reads it in the slowest pace he could so it can last for a week.

Spencer comes out the shower and stares at his closet. Should he go casual or formal? Casual or formal? Its just dinner, he’s chill and casual is the way. He picks one of the few plaid shirts that he has and puts it on with a white shirt underneath. He tries to brush his hair, it sits for a moment before it starts curling again. He cringes but leaves it be.

Spencer proceeds to the kitchen to start packing the food into a wicker basket (that he also borrowed from JJ, he basically borrowed her whole kitchen). He packs the utensils in a table napkin that comes with the basket. The main course for the date was the carbonara, and the dessert was a tiramisu Penelope made.

He reaches over his sofa where the bouquet of paper flowers are. He made it a few nights ago with Penelope’s help. He stayed up to make more of it with old books he found in the BAU.

Because what kind of flowers is the best flowers for librarians? Origami flowers made with old book pages.

He shouldn’t be nervous. You’ve been friends for all the months that he didn’t have enough courage to ask you out. You’ve taken trips to old bookstores together for book hunting. This shouldn’t be different from your other trips.

The pitter patter of rain against his window takes him out of his thoughts.

“Shit! Is it raining!?” Spencer yelps, before opening the closed curtains. Beads of water runs down his windows and if its any other day he would love it. But not tonight, when he planned a rooftop date. He cringes as he thinks of the fairy lights hanged up and the table set up that is probably soaked now.

“Don’t panic. Don’t panic. Think, Spencer, think.” Spencer thinks fast. He finds the extra table cloth that JJ gave him because “Just in case.” He reminds himself to buy her a bottle of wine as a thank you. He places it in his small kitchen table before taking the utensils out of the basket and placing it on the table in a fancy way.

Candles. Does he have candles? Spencer scrambles around his kitchen, like a chicken without its head, looking for candles and he finds it underneath the kitchen sink. He lights some of it up and props it into some glasses (he doesn’t have a candle holder he realizes after lighting it up).

With the lights dimmed down leaving the light from the window and the light from the candles, his dark apartment gives off a romantic, kind of comfortable, vibes. It was kind of perfect because with the books on his shelves and the lighting, it actually has the same vibes a library gives off.

He was ready now, bouquet of paper flowers in hand. He can’t believe how smooth things are going, minus the damn rain. Only thing that’s missing is you.

A knock comes to the door and he instantly opens it. There you were, hair a bit wet and messed up from the rain.

His future was bundled up in a cozy cardigan and a pair of jeans right in front of his eyes and he didn’t even know it.

“Hi.” Spencer smiles.

“Hi.” You smile.

-

“A little to the right. No. No. Too much right, now give it a little bit to the left.” You sigh, your hand under your chin, “No, no, baby, its crooked.”

“Love, can we do this later? The pancetta is going to burn.” Spencer laughs as he climbs down the ladder with the frame.

“But you said you’ll help me with putting up the frames!” You pout at him, Spencer chuckles before kissing your nose, “I know but you also asked for my famous carbonara and I can’t do both at the same time.”

“Hmmm. I still don’t think you can call it yours when its originally Dave’s.” You follow him to the kitchen, zigzagging through the boxes of books you’ve both barely opened.

“What he doesn’t know, won’t kill him.” He winks at you before giving the pancetta and onions a stir.

“It already smells good, love.” You snake your arms through his waist and lean your head on his back. Spencer lets go of the spatula and spins around to face you.

“Thank you, sweetheart. Go unbox some of the books and I’ll call you when its cooked so we can fix the frames. Okay?” Spencer kisses the top of your head and lets you go.

You walk out of the kitchen to the hallway full of boxes full of books. You chuckle as you open the nearest box and its just full of chemistry books. You push it to the room where Luke, Derek and Spencer has built shelves for all of your books. An olive green couch sits in the corner beside the built in fireplace.

Hmmm. This is your home library but as a former librarian the dewey decimal is calling you. But then again, the books you and Spencer have doesn’t have classifications on them. You began unpacking the chemistry books and placing it on the shelf. You can hear the distinct hiss of the pan and Spencer humming Kodaline’s The One.

You push in another box from the hallway to the room and its another one of Spencer’s, this one full of philosophy books. You start unpacking it to the shelf below the chemistry books before stopping as you pull out a book that doesn't belong with the philosophy books. A smile graces your face as your hands glides unto it. It was the book Spencer bought for you on your first anniversary.

The Peter Pan cover is a bit tattered, it was an older edition he found in your favorite old bookstore. You open the book and Spencer’s messy writing greets you with nostalgia.

“We are most alive when we are in love. Thank you for making me feel alive everyday for the past year. Happy Anniversary, love. I live a full life as I love you fully.”

You smile at the book before hugging it to your chest. You sigh deeply as you looked around the room and how it felt so surreal to be in the new home you share with Spencer.

“Love, I am finish. Come meet me in the hallway!” You leave the book on the shelf as you hear Spencer calling you.

“Are you helping me with the frames?” You clap, excited to finally put up the frames. Spencer smiles as he sees you excited to put up the pictures.

“Yes, okay you need to tell me if they’re straight okay?” He instructs before climbing the ladder.

“To the right, just a bit. Oh! Perfect!” You scramble to reach for another frame as he comes down the ladder to move it, “Here! This one.” He climbs again and you instruct him with directions for the frame again.

After a few more frames, he finally comes down and looks at the frames you asked to be put up.

“It’s pretty, isn’t it?” Spencer smiles down at you and gives your cheek a kiss as he wraps his hands around your waist, “It is. Thank you for framing them.”

The frames comes in different shapes and forms, the biggest one in the middle is the picture of your wedding day. Your wedding took place in a library you immediately fell in love with when looking for places to get married at.

In the picture, you were smiling, your head rested on Spencer's shoulder as he reads a Harry Potter book he found in the kids section. It was a candid moment, both of you running to the back of the shelves to get a moment to yourselves after the wedding and the photographer snapped it before leaving the two of you in peace.

Beside it are pictures with the team on the wedding day, some on thanksgiving, christmas, new year with the BAU team, some with your family, some with Diana and in the corner is a shadow box containing the paper bouquet that Spencer gave you on your first date, the same exact flowers that was in your hands as you walk down the aisle to him.

“So, how's the first six months of officially being a Reid-Y/L/N?” Spencer teases as he lets you go from the back hug to face you and you roll your eyes at him, “Oh very hard. They hear Reid and they immediately expect greatness.”

Spencer laughs, “Same as the last name Y/L/N.” This time your the one who laughs at his statement, “Uhhh. I am not the one with 3 PhDs and 3 BAs.”

“And I am not the one whose a New York Times best selling author.” Spencer laughs even more when he sees your nose crinkles, making his heart dance and swell in glee.

“Hey, let’s dance.” He takes your arms and leaves it on his shoulders as he wraps his arms on your waist.

“We don’t have music, you silly goofy boy.” Spencer rolls his eyes at the endearment used, “I’ll sing.” He hushes you down.

“You make my heart feel like it's summer when the rain is pouring down.” Spencer’s singing voice was soft and sweet in the edges. Most nights you lull him to sleep with your humming to keep the monsters at bay and some days, his better days, he’s the one who sings and these were the days you treasure the most.

“You make my whole world feel so right when it's wrong, that's how I know you are the one... That’s how I know you are the one.” He sways you to the gentle buzz of his voice. You close your eyes as he sings the same song he sings to your ears on the dance floor for you first dance as a married couple.

“When we are together, you make me feel like my mind is free and my dreams are reachable hmmm.” Spencer hums as he runs his hands on your back. Your head on his chest and your ear listening to the way his heart is beating for you.

“You know I never ever believed in love, I believed one day that you would come along and free me.” Spencer feels at ease as he sways and sings, knowing that he’ll have you in his arms for the rest of his life.

The song ends but you and Spencer continue to sway to the music of silence.

“Can you believe its been 4 years since our first date?” Spencer asks, in disbelief of how fast time is running when he’s with you. You pull away from his chest so you can face him. You find a small spark in Spencer’s eyes as he thinks fondly of the night.

“Really? 4 years since our first date got rained on and Penelope cried because we broke all her fairy lights?” Spencer laughs before protesting, “Hey! I paid for that!”

"4 years later and I still can't get enough of that damn carbonara." Spence cackles, like an evil villain, "Don't tell Rossi that I stole his recipe for my beautiful partner."

"4 years later and I am still completely in love with you." Spencer smiles as he leans down to place a small kiss on your temple.

"4 years since I almost completely lost my mind because I was so nervous about our date." You roll your eyes, "Love, our first date was perfect. We've had this debate how many times now?"

"19 times." Spencer answers and you pinch his nose before looking around the room that’s still full of unopened boxes, “See. We should probably eat lunch and unpack. Why do we even have so many boxes of books?”

“Honey, you were a librarian and you are a writer. I am a professor and FBI agent that can read 20,000 words per minute.” Spencer answers as he looks around the unpacked house.

You smile fondly at him before standing on your tiptoes a bit to reach him and give him a kiss and he immediately steadies you with his hands. Kissing you was intoxicating and Spencer loves every bit of it. You only pull away when the kiss finally takes away your breathe.

“I love you, Spence.” You smile as you hold his face in your hands, “I love you more, sweetheart.” He smiles at you as you untangle yourself from him.

“Let’s eat your famous carbonara and unpack the rest of our house. It doesn’t really feel like home when all we can see is boxes.” You giggle before dragging him to the kitchen, making Spencer sit on the island as you prepare the pasta he cooked. Spencer watches you as you sing and dance through the kitchen in one of his old cardigans.

He doesn’t say anything but you were wrong. Home is not four walls with unpacked boxes and hundreds of books.

Home was when you showed up bundled in a cardigan, wet from the rain for your first date with him and home is still you, four years later, bundled up in his old cardigans and singing songs that magically fills and heals the crevices of his heart.

-

the recipe i copied for the famous carbonara!

taglist (if you want to be added, please message me 🥰): @all-tings-diego @shemarmooresfedora @averyhotchner @samuel-de-champagne-problems @bingereid

[imaslutforremusandsirius]

Cat fight

My first request, I‘m so exited. Really hope you enjoy it babe <3 @maraudersangel

Warnings: 18+

Pairing: Marlene x Lily x You

---

The walk back from the Quidditch pitch was tense, Lily and you throwing anxious glances at each other. Marlene was pissed off. Gryffindor nearly won the game against Slytherin, but Slytherin scored last second and the game was finished. Needless to say, James and Sirius were fuming with anger and Remus tried his best to hold them back from hexing the other team.

„I can‘t fucking believe it. They clearly cheated, everybody saw! I can‘t believe this bullshit“, she cried out, slamming the door to your dorm room shut and throwing her stuff in the corner of the room. You flinched when you heard the door creak and threw Lily a concerned look. Marlene had never been so angry before.

„It‘s alright Marls, you did everything you could! Besides-”, Lily was cut off sharply by her friend.

„No! It‘s not fair Lily! Why must they always get away with lying? They never get in trouble and it just isn‘t right! Fucking snakes, I‘ll show them..“.

Marlene was sitting on her bed now, face resting on her hands as she kept working herself up over the lost game. Lily sat down next to her friend, resting her hand on her back, stroking in a soothing gesture.

„Marlene, it isn‘t worth it. C‘mon you‘ll beat them nex-“

„God Lily, you just don‘t get it! This was my only chance to show James that I deserve my position! He‘s going to throw me off the team!“ She pushed Lilys hand away, hands tugging frustratedly through her blond locks.

You were starting to get angry as well. You had friends on the Slytherin team and hearing Marlene talk about them like that irritated you. Turning your attention on Lily, who was giving you a warning look, you crossed your arms and gave Marlene an icy glare. „Just because Slytherin won doesn‘t mean they cheated! Stop discriminating them for their house, I have friends on their team and you know that. It‘s not their fault you sucked.“

Lily let out a frustrated groan, knowing that neither of you would back down from this.

„So that‘s how it is? You are siding with them? The sorting hat should have put you in Slytherin then, you‘d fit right in with the cheating snakes!“

„Merlin Marlene you are so fucking full of yourself! Just because you are a Gryffindor doesn‘t mean you are above them! Get. The. Fuck. Over. It! You are acting like a bloody coward!“

Marlene abruptly got up, shaking Lilys hands off and strode towards you in quick steps. You didn‘t back down as she shoved you into the wall behind you and kept staring into her furious eyes.

The next words she spoke were dangerously low, clearly trying to control herself from doing something she‘d regret. „Careful love, you don‘t want to go there...“

You kept looking at her, but your attitude was faltering. Thruth is, you fancied Marlene for quite some time now and seeing her so angry stirred something in you. She was so close you could count each of her lashes, see the different specks of color in her eyes. You took a deep breath, the smell of her shampoo and natural musk made you want to kiss her dizzy and apologize.

„You heard me, Marlene“, jabbing your finger into her chest you spoke loud enough for Lily to hear, „You are acting like a-”

Marlene kissed you. Hard and right on the lips. Her body pressed yours against the wall, her hands on your cheeks. She murmured against your lips, voice soft, but sure. „Kiss me back then, since you are soo brave..“

You let out a breath and kissed her, immediately parting your lips so she could lick into your mouth. Both of you were moaning now, the kiss was filthy and desperate, all your tension from minutes before turned into passion. You were kissing each other trying to prove that neither of you were cowards, you are Gryffindor after all.

Lily sat calmly, watching her best friends make out. Her voice was gentle as she spoke, a dirty glint in her green eyes, „So you‘re just gonna leave me out? How rude..“

Breaking the kiss you looked at her and Marlene let out a soft laugh as she sucked on the skin of your jaw. Grabbing your hand she tugged you towards Lily and pushed you on the sitting girls lap.

Sitting down next to Lily, both of them looked at you with small smiles. You were nervous and incredibly turned on, looking at them eagerly, ready to do whatever they wanted to.

„Lily told me about your little crush on me..“, Marlene drawled and you looked up at her, cheeks flushing crimson. „Maybe you‘d like to show me just how much you fancy me? Lily wasn‘t so convincing..“

Lily was grinning now and leaned to whisper in your ear as you and Marlene held eye contact. „You want to get on your knees and make our Marls come? Hm? You’d like that wouldn’t you, you filthy girl.“ You whined quietly, hips involuntary grinding on Lilys thighs and let out a „Yes! Please!“ eyes hooded as you held Marlenes eyes. The blonde leaned back on her hands and spread her legs to give you space on the ground, her voice dominating, „On your knees pet, I want you to make me cum.“

You scrambled to get on the floor, hands trembling as you unbuttoned her quidditch uniform and pulled them down her legs. Lily was busy making out with her, taking off her shirt to play with her breasts. You pushed her legs up, so her feet were resting on the bed and kissed around her bare pussy, wanting to take your time with making her fall apart. Marlene was already soaked from your kissing earlier, a proud grin spread on your face and you kissed her clit softly. Her hands combed through your hair, slightly pushing your mouth against her clit and you licked her firmer now. You couldn‘t get enough once you got a taste and your tongue lapped on her pussy, licking and sucking on her cunt. She fucked your face, moaning against Lilys lips, but you wanted her attention on you. You wanted to look into her eyes when she came gushing in your mouth. Pulling away you pushed two fingers into her tight hole, curling the fingers to find her spot, your thumb playing with her swollen clit. Marlene shot up with a gasp, leaning on her elbows.

„Mmmh fuck right there, right there pet, ah-“, her voice cut off, breathless as she moaned and moved her hips fast to fuck your fingers deeper into her needy pussy. „Fuck I‘m close, Lily, lick my clit baby, c‘mon“ Lily joined you on the ground and locked her lips around Marlenes clit. Sucking on her clit and Marlene trembled, letting out strangled moans as you fucked her through her first orgasm of the night. Taking your fingers out you put them into Lilys mouth, the red head sucking them clean and kissed you, sharing the taste. „God, c‘mere love“, Marlene let out as she pulled you on the bed. „Want you to ride my face sweetheart, can you do that for me? Can you do that for your Marls?“ „Oh, yes please!“

You hastily took off your clothes throwing them carelessly on the ground and knelt over her face. God, she looked so good. Blonde hair sprawled around her head, blue eyes peering up at you desperately. Seeing your hasitation, she locked her arms around your legs in a strong grip and pulled you down, instantly licking at your cunt. You were so absorbed in your pleasure of finally being touched by your crush, that you didn‘t even notice how Lily fastend her strap-on around her hips. Positioning herself behind you, she placed her hand between your shoulder blades to arch your back down and rubbed the tip against your hole. Realizing what was going on you tried to get up and peer around, but Lily‘s grip was strong, holding you down by your neck and fuck into you hard. You let out a shriek, gasping and moaning, your body trembling with bliss. You couldn’t move and your girls were feral at this point, Marlene sucking harder on your clit, Lily fucking your wet cunt in rapid thrusts.

„Fuck her harder Lily she deserves it. Stop squirming an take it slut, I thought that‘s what you wanted? Wanted us to fuck you?“

Lily let out a condescending laugh, „C‘mon sweetheart, show us how brave you can be. You‘re not a snake are you? You‘re our brave little lion? Our little cock slut?“

„You gonna cum? Hm? You gonna cum all over my face? Cum, slut! Now!“

And you came, body tightening as you grinded your clit on Marlenes face, fucking back into Lily. You were burning up with the force of your orgasm, your breath coming out in hard pants, body weak. They were praising you now, calling you their good little girl, kissing and shushing you.

„Good job, pretty! So good for us, hm Lils?“

„Yes, good girl! So pretty when she cums, Marls, should‘ve seening her pretty face.“

Marlene took the strap on into her mouth, licking of your slick and moaned. „Merlin, she tastes so good.“ „Fuck, gimme a taste..“

Marlene kissed her, tongue licking into Lilys mouth. It was filthy, the sounds of their breathing and moans and kisses were absolute sin and you were needy, letting out a whine. Lily kissed at Marlenes neck, sitting in the girls lap as Marlene shot you a grin.

„What is it baby, feeling left out? C‘mon, on the ground. Want you to make Lils cum.“

You had a different idea, however and bit your lip, „Wanna see you fuck her Marls, please. Wanna see you fuck her with your pussy.“ Lily let out a shocked gasp, her giggles reaching your ears, „God, love you are filthy, aren‘t you? What do you say Marlene, let‘s put on a show-“

Marlene didn‘t even let her finish her sentence and flipped her over, pressing a hard kiss on your lips, „Enjoy the show then, darling.“

They made out slowly, passionately kissing each other breathless, hands everywhere touching softly. Marlenes lips sucked bruises on Lilys freckled skin, making the red head gasp and hum in bliss. Marlene took charge, sliding one leg under Lilys and pushed her hips forward to rub her aching cunt against Lilys pussy. Both of them let out a high pitched moan at the contact, rubbing their clits together and got lost in their pleasure. You were hot again, reaching down to touch your own clit, not daring to make a noise, aftaid that you‘d miss their sounds.

„Fuck Marl- ah Marlene, please make me cum, m‘gonna fu-”

Marlene went faster, brows furrowed and lips in a tight line, concentrating on making Lily squirt. Lily was screaming at this point, rutting against her friend until her body went stiff, head thrown back and whined loudly, pussy gushing with her orgasm. Marlene came again, whimpering as she slowed down, leaning her head back and let out a heavy breath. You came as well, in time with Marlene, both of you sharing hazy smiles.

The girls lazily got up and crawled their way towards you, caging you in with their naked, sweaty bodies. Lily rested her head on your naked breasts, softly sucking on the skin and Marlene tucked your head under her chin.

„This wasn‘t a one time thing right?“, you said, fearing the answer.

„‘Course not, baby. Want you both as often as possible“, Marlene replied, kissing your sweaty forehead. Lily simply nodded against your skin, snuggling in closer.

You beamed at Marlene, breathing her in as you fell asleep between their warm bodies, content and worn out.

[after-witch]

Hook Line and Sinker [Yandere Ransom Drysdale x Reader]

Title: Hook Line and Sinker [Yandere Ransom Drysdale x Reader]

Synopsis: You’ve broken up with Ransom Drysdale, and you mean it this time. But the freedom that comes with the breakup leads to a series of unexpected coincidences that leave you wondering: was it worth the price?

Word Count: 8955

notes: yandere, mentions of physical abuse, financial abuse, comfort sweaters

Nothing lasts forever. Not even relationships--and certainly not love. What might start off as an intense, passionate relationship can (and did, in your case) eventually fizzle; things that you were willing to overlook when you were absolutely besotted would wear down with time, and eventually they became too much to ignore.

That’s what you tell yourself, what you remind yourself, in the moment after you tell him:

“It’s over, Ransom. We’re done. I’m leaving.”

It couldn’t last forever. Not with his inability to stay sober, not with his tendency to cheat on you with meaningless flings that somehow hurt more than any steamy single-minded affair. Not with his flare-ups of controlling tendencies that left you in tears on the bathroom floor as he asked you to please stop dressing like a slut in front of his family, is that too hard to ask?

You’d asked him to change. He swore he would; he never did. You forgave him, more than once, more times than you could count. But enough was enough. Maybe he thought you were too weak to leave him, especially three years into your relationship, when your lives were becoming so integrated, pushing you towards a potential permanent future. It was a future that left you feeling numb and anxious. Stuck in a marriage with someone who wanted to stay with you but treated you horribly, all the same. And that wasn’t even getting into the family dynamics that left your head spinning.

He stares at you now, and his mouth opens just a little bit in what you know is going to be a barrage of questions, insults, maybe even threats spurred on by your words. But instead he closes his mouth and shakes his head, letting out a soft, bitter chuckle.

“Well, damn. This sucks.” You can see the indent of his tongue in his cheek before he clicks and shrugs. “Guess that’s it then. Need help packing your shit or what?”

His response is so blasé that you’re genuinely shocked and, you must admit, a little hurt. He didn’t even ask for a second chance or beg you to stay or argue with you about your terrible timing because our-vacation-to-Hawaii-is-coming-up. So it’s your turn to look surprised, and you shake your head.

“No, I… already took care of it. It’s at a storage locker.” You didn’t have family left, and your close friends had pulled away from you one by one once you stayed with Ransom time and time again--so you’d had to pay movers to help you pack and transport everything to storage over the weekend, while Ransom was away and you were free to make a clean breakup.

He nods, sticks his hand inside his jacket pockets. He’s looking around the room, avoiding direct eye contact in a clear show of his discomfort. It’s weird seeing Ransom like this--the normally self-assured, cocky Ransom, looking for any excuse not to look at you.

“So… see ya around?” His tone is sincere, if still confused. The idea of you leaving must have really never crossed his mind. The look on his face when he finally faces you again appears genuinely puzzled.

He sticks out his hand and it feels almost comical for things to end this way, particularly considering the nights you’d spent imagining some big blow up, some big fight with Ransom screaming and you firing off the many reasons why it had to end no matter what he said.

But it didn’t go the way you expected at all. It was calm. Easy. A clean break-up.

So you shake his hand and grab your purse and the small roller-suitcase and give a half-hearted wave as you walk out the door; the taxi you’d hired to pick you up is waiting, car running, meter going. You would be staying at a hotel for two weeks, which would hopefully be enough time to find a semi-decent apartment; your credit score had improved so much since Ransom added you to his cards, to a shared checking account, and it wouldn’t be too difficult to get approved.

A new life, one where you could focus on yourself for once, was just around the corner.

**

"I'm sorry, miss, but it's definitely not the reader. The card is declined."

You've had this nightmare before. No, you've lived this nightmare before--years ago when your credit was shit and you ran up your cards and had to face the music in a publicly humiliating display with the longest checkout line you'd ever seen behind you. Only that was years ago, in a little grocery store, and since getting together with Ransom you never had to worry about problems like this. You never had to worry about the shame of not having enough, not being enough.

But this? This was happening now. In an upscale hotel. With your nice purse (a Christmas present) and designer clothes (casual, comfortable) and your cheeks flushed undeniably warm.

The hotel clerk has a tight, sympathetic smile on her face. A coworker who walks behind her glances at you, judging, and you just know he's going to head into some break room and tell everyone but yet another piece of discarded army candy with a declined credit card. You wish you'd kept your sunglasses on.

"Did it, um, say why? I don't--" you plaster a smile on your face, hating the way this all feels familiar, like a part of your past coming back to haunt you. "I don't understand, the card is good."

The clerk's smile flickers, just a bit.

"It says there's a fraud alert on this card. Perhaps you'd better call the company. Or would you like me to call them?"

Fucking. Ransom.

"Oh, oh no, don’t worry about it. I’ll call them myself. I'm so sorry about this." You turn away from the clerk as quickly as possible and step away from the counter, away from the person waiting behind you who will surely have no trouble with their card, away from the clerks giving you a passive side-eye. You lean against a cool cement pillar in the lobby and you know what you have to do.

You have to call Ransom.

You haven't deleted his number yet--you'd planned on calling him today or tomorrow to figure out how to split up your shared finances--so it's easy enough to find the number. It's not so easy to tap his contact, but you have to, so you force yourself to do it and stare at his photo as the call rings. And rings. And rings. “Hello?” Your breath catches but in an instant, when the message continues, you feel stupid. It’s his voicemail. Fuck.

You text him, instead. Emergency. Call right away. And of course: He leaves you on read. Fuck.

You call him again. And again. He picks up on the sixth call, but your heart is racing too hard and sweat is beading down your forehead and it takes you a moment to confirm that the "Hello?" wasn't part of the voicemail message this time. Fuck.

"Um. Hey," you say, keeping your voice as un-royally-pissed-off as possible, because if he did put in a fraud alert then you don't want to risk any additional asshole moves. "So there's something wrong with the card? The one that ends in 8921? The hotel said there was a fraud alert and--"

"Did you really think I'm going to keep paying for your shit if we're over?"

His voice is quick, biting--exactly what you'd expected from him earlier. Somehow it stings even harsher over the phone, where you feel more helpless, unable to avoid his words.

"I thought..." you wet your lips, trying to maintain your cool. "Look, my name is on them, so I thought send you my part of the payments until I can get cards in my own name."

He chuckles, low and short. "Yeah? What, you want to create a payment schedule or something?"

You fight back the annoyance in your tone. You hate having to be the bigger person, but your finances--your life--is on the line. "Yeah, actually, that'd be perfect. It wouldn't be for long. You know I'll pay them on time, I'm not looking to screw you over."

"You're going too pay me on time? For all the stuff you've bought, the stuff I’ve bought for you, this hotel room and god knows what else? How are you going to afford all that?"

He knows you recently earned a promotion at your work. He knows this, because you were so excited about it, and his half-assed congratulations over lukewarm leftovers left you feeling bitter and sad and useless. So you can't help it when bitterness seeps into your voice with your answer. "You know I just got a promotion."

"Did you?" It's said in such a casual tone that it gives you pause, but a moment later he simply hangs up on you.

Fucking. Ransom.

You shove your phone back into your purse, and the clerks at the counter are staring at you. Sweat has trickled down your back and your shirt sticks to your skin ever-so-slightly as you pull away from the pillar and approach the counter, awkward smile and cheeks hot.

"There is an issue with the card, they're working on it, so I’ll just call for a new reservation when it's fixed. I'm so sorry for the mix up!" Your voice is so peppy and high-pitched and fake and you feel like you’re back at your old job, feet aching with falling apart shoes, forced to deal with people returning old toasters laden with crumbs, calming they’d “just bought it the day before and it didn’t work.”

"Of course," the clerk says, and you know this is hotel clerk code for "You're a shitty liar."

You roll your suitcase out of the lobby with tears in your eyes and you shove your sunglasses on as soon as you've cleared the building. You feel exhausted, drained--so you use what little energy you have left to start googling for cheap motels.

**

The room smells musty. You pin the plastic sheet you’d snagged at a dollar store over the comforter and pray it will be enough to protect you from whatever is on the likely unwashed fabric. The TV is broken, there’s no WIFi, and there’s a few suspicious stains on the floor that make you wonder if this hotel has ever been featured in a porno, true crime show, or both.

But it’s all you could afford with the cash in your wallet. You only had enough cash on hand for 2 nights at a ragtag hotel that offers nightly and hourly rates. You didn’t dare use your debit card or any credit cards with Ransom’s name or information on them.

You just need some sleep. A good night’s sleep to feel renewed and ready to tackle retaking your life, bit by bit. In the morning, you need to go to the bank and withdraw your money from the joint bank account. Then you can reopen an account in your name, get a new debit card, and apply for a few credit cards afterwards.

Sure, it would have been nicer to do this without Ransom being an asshole. But deep down, you suspected he wouldn’t let you have a clean, lets-still-be-friends type of break. Not after all the times he’d pressured you into staying, manipulating you with words and gifts and promises, promises. Promises that were worth shit. 

The sheet crinkles underneath you as you scroll through your messages. You’d texted a few formerly close friends about the breakup earlier, hoping that they’d maybe want to reconnect. So far, you’d been left on read, blocked, and received only one response: “New number, who is this?”

So much for that. Not that you can blame them. There are only so many times they can rush over for a late night intervention in which you tell them every horrible thing Ransom does (he’s controlling, he doesn’t want me to meet with friends without permission, he tells me what I can and can’t wear, he cheats, he lies, he pushed me--)--before they get tired of you returning to him, again and again and again.

The only one who’d been texting you recently--okay, for the past year--had been Ransom. Mostly dick pics. And demands for you to send him something back, which you always did after a while, because you didn’t want to deal annoyed texts or voice messages accusing you of clearly cheating on him or hating him because why else wouldn’t you be willing to send him so much as a sexy selfie to your boyfriend? 

But in between those, there were conversations. Sometimes sweet ones, sometimes thoughtful ones that always made you remember why you fell hard for him in the first place. Late night conversations from when he was off on trips. You try not to wonder if he was fucking someone on each of these trips, if while you were sending him a late night ramble about a TV show and he was humoring you with jokes and quips, he was actually snuggled up with someone else. Laying in bed, naked, laughing at your dumb ass waiting at home.

The not-so-sweet conversations were ones that you had screenshotted and sent to your friends more than once, before they pulled themselves away. Texts asking where you were. Asking who you ate lunch with, and whether or not you were fucking them. Asking why your new office was connected to a certain co-worker’s, and how many blowjobs you had to give to get said new office because you didn’t tell him about the new office until after you were moved in, so you were clearly hiding him. Asking you to send him outfit pics so he could approve them or make you change if they were too slutty or not slutty enough or if you were only clearly wearing that halter dress to try to get with the bartender.

Yet your mind had always returned to the nice Ransom, the Ransom who made you laugh and squeezed you hard when had a shitty day of work and let you bury your face in his sweater as you snuggled on the couch. Maybe that’s why it took so long to leave.  You were waiting for him to stop being Ransom and start being the fantasy of Ransom you’d conjured in your head.

Your eyes feel heavy so you plug in your phone, turn the sound off, and lay down on the uncomfortable plastic sheet that crinkled over the pillows. It feels strange to lay on a lumpy mattress covered in plastic, after years of custom-made beds and memory foam pillows and all the other luxuries that Ransom was able to provide.

You try not to think about it too much. While you won’t exactly be indulging in all the luxuries you had with Ransom, but your job pays you well, and you won’t ever have to go back to living hand-to-mouth like you did before. You won’t have to worry about late bills and debt collectors and landlords who come late at night and demand inspections while you’re in your pajamas.

You have work in the morning. You have to get to the bank in the morning. Your thoughts are still buzzing with anxiety as you fall into an uneasy slumber.

**

“I’m sorry, but the account has been closed.”

You feel years of customer service training cracking underneath your skin. You can’t freak out. If you freak out, they won’t feel inclined to go the extra mile. You know this, from firsthand experience.

So you take a shaky breath. “Um, this just--it isn’t possible. It’s a joint account. I’m on the account. There was money in there, you can check--”

“I’m sorry, but the funds were transferred and account has been closed by the other account holder. There’s nothing I can do. I suggest contacting the other party in the account.”

You swallow and nod and walk away, this time having been smart enough to keep your sunglasses on to hide your humiliated expression. Why didn’t you insist on having your own account? Ransom said it was better to keep it joint, so you could just buy stuff whenever you wanted. You’d agreed because it was so generous, something you’d never thought possible at the time, when you were used to having to pay overdraft fees and cringing whenever you checked your balance.

Your fingers tremble as you bring up his contact on your phone. You tap. No answer.

You don’t have time to call him two, three, ten times--you have to get to work. So you steady your nerves. You breathe in, you breathe out. You get in your car and plug your phone in and decide to contact your lawyer. Fuck--your lawyer was Ransom's lawyer. But the anxiety eases when you remember that you’d paid him a retainer fee months ago, and Ransom couldn’t do anything about that. You could at least get a basic consult out of the retainer.

The call ringing sounds muffled through your car’s speaker but it isn’t long before someone answers, and you’re transferred to the lawyer Ransom insisted you have--gotta have a lawyer when you have money, babe--and that you hadn’t spoken to in ages.

“Hi,” you say, voice artificially bright, “this is--”

You don’t get a chance to finish.

“I know who this is.” The lawyer sounds tired, and his tone is curt and clipped. “I’m sorry. I’m no longer able to provide you with any legal counsel.”

You almost miss a red light and regret calling the office while you were driving.

“Is this about the debit card? Because I paid the retainer months ago--”

“The retainer has been refunded into the connected checking account.”

Your voice looses its artificial cheeriness and you stumble over your words in frustration. “That’s--it’s--it was a joint account, which is why I called, Ransom drained it and took everything. Isn’t there something we can do, because that was my money too and--”

“I am no longer able to provide you with legal counsel.”

You want to cry. You hate crying, as an adult. It makes you feel weak. Especially on the phone.

“I don’t understand. Why was the retainer refunded? Did--did someone call you?”

He clears his throat into the phone. “I am no longer able to provide you with legal counsel. Goodbye.”

He hangs up. Your hands shake.

You pull into the parking lot of your work and park the car and as soon as you do, you hunch yourself over the steering wheel and simply shake in frustration.

You have no bank account. Ransom drained it. You have no credit cards. Ransom blocked them. You couldn’t even talk to a lawyer, because--shock--Ransom made sure you couldn’t. Everything was in Ransom’s name. He insisted on adding you to his accounts, closing out your own paltry ones; insisted that he pay off your credit card debt, and making you close those, too, instead adding you to his cards. It was all to help you out, he said, at the time.

Wasn’t it? He was shockingly not judgmental about the state of your finances, and while you’d put up some protest, you didn’t exactly argue with him when he suggested wiping your debts clean and getting your credit back up. And considering that he wasn’t immune to needing a bail-out now and then (late night calls to his grandfather, snarky comments at his parent’s dinner table, come to mind) maybe he could sympathize with being in over your head. Even if your issues were rooted in poverty and shitty jobs and his were rooted in a total lack of financial discipline and, as you’d later found out, a drug addiction.

Still. He helped you before. He would help you now, once he realized how serious it was. For now he was just--reacting like an asshole, acting childish and ridiculous. He was an asshole. You know this. You’ve known this. You need to call him and meet with him and make him realize how ridiculous he’s being, and he’ll sigh and snark but he’ll agree to stop acting like such an ass.

But first you have to work. Life goes on. Even without Ransom--even with Ransom, screwing you over out of pettiness.

The air conditioning in the lobby is on blast, and the familiar smell of clean furniture and floor cleaner from the late-night cleaning crew is surprisingly comforting. Here, you can forget about Ransom--forget about the cards and the lawyer and the fact that your life has been upended in mere hours. If only until your lunch break, at least.

Anthony is working the front desk and you give him a a soft, if strained smile. There’s something in the smile that he gives you in return that reminds you of the hotel clerk. Sympathetic and judgmental.

Ah. You probably look like--well, less than your best, you realize. You did pack some toiletries in your suitcase but the water in the motel had streaks of brown and you didn’t shower, opting instead to rinse your face with what was left of a water bottle you’d bought earlier and layering on more deodorant to make up for the lack of a proper scrub. You probably looked a bit tired, haggard, not unlike some of the employees who got stuck with big clients the night before their paperwork was due.

Still. Nothing that freshening up in your private bathroom--thank god for the new office--can’t help. So you hit the button on the elevator and take deep breaths as you ride up, intent on working as productively as possible. The doors open and you navigate the familiar maze of open-plan desks for the lower-tier workers, desks surrounded by half-walls that always kept you staring straight ahead, lest you accidentally glance over and see a co-worker picking their nose.

Yet as you weave in-and-out of the familiar rows, heading towards the back of the room where the real offices, the ones with full walls and doors and privacy glass lay, you can’t help but feel that something is… off. 

No one calls out to greet you, though that can be easily attributed to the jealousy over your promotion. You’d been working there for far less than most of the lower level workers--Ransom got you the job, with his connections and a hefty revision of your resume and, you assume, some personal phone calls--and you’d already been promoted to senior management. That wasn’t technically Ransom’s work, though. That was all your own effort, your own blood, sweat, tears and intense devotion to each project that came your way. Sure, the connections he helped you make, the dinner parties, all that helped--but if it weren’t for your skills, the connections wouldn’t have made a difference. Right? 

Still, whatever bitterness existed in the people hunch in open-air cubicles, the receptionists always greeted you. But today they caught your eye then awkwardly glanced down, or pretended to be looking for something in their drawers. It was odd. Did you look that bad? That out of sorts?

You shake off the heavy feeling in your stomach and for once, you shut the door to your office instead of keeping it open for passers-by or people needing approval for this-and-that. It feels good to lean against the solid wood door and take a breath, a deep one, invigorating and calming.

A quick trip to the bathroom has you staring at yourself from all angles. You don’t look that bad, you reason. Just tired. But who wouldn’t be, sleeping on a plastic sheet in the shittiest motel in the area? You take a quick sniff under your arms but even that reveals nothing much but a faint hint of sweat and powdery deodorant.

There’s a firm knock at your office door and you glance at the mirror for a final once over before opening it up. It’s your boss. Did you have a meeting? You try to do a mental scan of something you’ve missed, but nothing comes to mind.

“Hi,” you say, wavering with uncertainty at the threshold. Should you invite him in? “What can I do for you? We didn’t have a meeting, did we?” You let yourself chuckle, dry and quick. “I’m sorry, I’m a bit scattered this morning.”

Your boss doesn’t return your chuckle, which immediately raises the hairs on the back of your neck. Something was wrong. Shit--you were working on a major project for a seriously important client. The type of client that could genuinely make or break a company, if you got on their bad side. You press your lips together and make a silent vow to keep it serious.

“I’d like to keep this conversation private.” His tone is low and serious and you invite him in without a second thought, shutting the thick door behind you, trying to ignore the way everyone was shooting glances as it closed. Fuck, fuck, fuck, your thoughts race--no wonder everyone was giving you the stink eye. Something was wrong with the client, and you were the one making primary contact with them.

Your boss takes a seat on the leather sofa pushed up against the wall and you immediately set yourself down behind your desk.

He sighs. Short. Frustrated. Annoyed.

“We have to let you go.”

The words don’t register.

“Go where?”

It’s only after you say it that you realize what he said, what it meant, and you feel like a colossal moron in every respect.

“It’s not working out,” he continues, staring at your desk and not at your face. “Since you’ve only been in this position for a month, you don’t quality for senior severance. The best we can do is to pay you what you’ve earned this week.”

Your mouth is so dry that you don’t know if you can talk. Your hand fumbles on your desk for a water bottle you’d left overnight, and that’s when you see it--the photo frame. You keep a photo of yourself and Ransom, cuddled together for a selfie, on your desk. The photo was lying on your desk, frameless, ripped in half--leaving only your vacantly smiling face staring up at you.

Ransom was here.

“Did he put you up to this?” You whisper. “Did Ransom tell you to fire me?”

You know he won’t answer. But you stare at him so fervently that he can’t help but look up at you, and you see it all in his eyes, in the subtle, embarrassed expression of his face.

You can imagine Ransom strolling in--maybe he called first--and settling in for a private audience with your boss in his office. He’d probably pull the chair up to the desk and put his feet on it, just to be an ass. Then he’d bring up… you. And why you had to be let go. Did he give a reason, did he tell your boss why a respected employee who he once secured a position for, who shot up the ranks through intense effort and work, needed to be fired? Did he even need to give a reason?

“This is absolute bullshit,” you say, finally, voice dry and hoarse and bitter. You want to say you’ll be contacting a lawyer. That this won’t stand. But you know--and he knows--that there’s nothing you can do.

Your boss stands, slow, and sighs again. “I’m sorry it had to end this way. Pack up your things as quickly as possible.”

He leaves, and you keep your eyes trained on the ripped photograph to avoid seeing the expressions of the people in the doorway before your boss mercifully shuts the door.

It takes all of your effort not to cry.

You don’t have much effort left.

**

Your things consisted of a handful of personal items, little touches you’d brought in to make your office feel more like “you.” A nice picture print. A pastel afghan to drape over the couch. A stapler with a floral design. You have the strong urge to dump them in a trash can, but that’s quickly quelled by the realization that you can’t afford to buy new things, or any things, at this point.

You don’t care if wearing your sunglasses as you power walk to the elevators makes you look stupid. You know someone, somewhere in this office is filming you and probably captioning it with something stupid to post to their Reels or TikTok, and it just makes you leave faster. A few people murmur comments your way, sympathetic in tone, but you’re not really listening. None of their platitudes matter, because Ransom was here, in your workplace, in your office, and he stole the thing you were most proud of from under your feet.

To his credit, when you reach the bottom floor, Anthony practically fumbles out from behind his desk and holds the door open for you. He mouths a “Sorry” and he probably is, but he’s probably used to dealing with rich assholes like Ransom who get what they want, when they want it; even when what they want is to fire a good employee on demand for very personal reasons.

The sun is beating down hard, even for the morning, and the stress of your situation makes you blast the air conditioning as soon as you get in the car. God, the car--how are you going to afford the payments? You wish you could call your mom. You wish your friends--are they even your friends, anymore?--would call you back.

You grab your phone from your purse and stare at the black screen. Maybe you should call the friend who didn’t block you. She would answer, if you called, because she knew you didn’t make calls unless it was serious. She might not rush to your side, but maybe she can offer you a place to stay, a couch, some advice. A kind word would do, right now, with how much anxiety and frustration has been packed into the last 12 hours.

But when you unlock your screen, your gut sinks. Five missed calls. From the storage company. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

You tap their number and bring the phone to your ear and pretend that your hands aren’t shaking.

The man who answers is the same one you talked to on the phone before, when setting up your move. “Hello, Move’nSecure Storage Company. This is Steve speaking. How many I help you?”

“Hi Steve!” You hate how chipper you sound. “I actually just got a few missed calls from you guys, I’m sorry, I was in the office and--”

“Oh.” His voice is surprisingly flat, suddenly flat, losing its customer service inflection in an instant before picking it back up. “Yes. We’ve been trying to reach you. For confirmation, the storage locker your purchased is A443, correct?”

You fumble in your purse for the receipt and confirm the little numbers printed neatly on the paper. “Yes, A443. Is everything okay?”

“No, it’s not.” You’re grateful that you didn’t have much for breakfast because you know it would be clawing its way back up at this point. “The card you gave us for the storage fee was declined.”

The debit card. You’d paid in cash for the move, and paid for 1 month of storage with the card. The card that was now useless, connected to an empty and closed bank account.

“Is there another card you can give us?”

“No, but...” You say, because no, there is not. There is not a card. There is not a job. There is nothing. “But if you could just hold my stuff, I’ll be there in less than a hour to get it.”

“We don’t hold items,” Steve tells you, a rehearsed banality to his tone. “Your items are currently outside the unit.”

You instinctively want to yell at Steve but, fuck fuck fuck, you’ve been there, behind the counter, dealing with people who couldn’t pay for shit and then had the nerve to get upset with you. “All of it?” You ask, your voice cracking slightly.

“Yes.”

You hang up, and toss your phone onto the passenger seat. The quicker you get there, the less chance that something will get broken or stolen or who knows what else.

The trip to the storage unit seems to take forever, and when you arrive you don’t even take a second to lock your car doors. Instead you sprint inside, startling Steve--looking at his phone, then at you, then at the sign plastered up on the wall leading to the storage locker floors. He points. Row A, separated into 100s, 200s, 300s, and--your number--400s.

You don’t remember if you say ‘thank you,’ because you’re speed-walking down the hallway and following the signs and it isn’t long before you see it: a storage locker with tons of stuff piled up, dumped, outside the now-empty unit where it was supposed to be safe and sound. Waiting for you to get an apartment and pick it back up and rearrange it into your new life, your new “you.”

The problem is immediate: You can’t fit all this in your car. You don’t know anyone who could take the stuff for you. You mind reels for options and the only thing you can come up with is ferrying your belongings to and from the hotel. You can pay for a few more days once you cash your partial paycheck. After that… you don’t know.

Pawn your things? Yeah. That might work. You can get enough cash by pawning most of your stuff, the good stuff. Enough money to get you into a shitty apartment with leaks and a bad landlord. Then you can a job that barely pays rent and you’ll be right back where you started, before you met Ransom. Before you thought leaking ceilings and $20 paychecks after taxes were a thing of the past.

You ignore the humiliation that makes your stomach curl as you take your things out to the car, handful by handful. Steve doesn’t bother holding the door open for you. You mention that you’re going to be back on your way out, and he offers a non-committal hum.

At least when you get to the hotel, the owner sees you fumbling with boxes and offers to help you out. It takes less time with two hands to get everything in the room, and once it’s locked up you head back out to the storage units.

You keep your sunglasses on for the second trip into the storage unit, even though you don’t know Steve or care what he thinks. He doesn’t look up when you walk in and it’s just as well, since you’re only heading back to the A-400s and don’t need his non-existent help.

But the sight that greets you when you round the corner to your unpaid-for storage locker makes your blood run cold.

Your stuff is gone. All of it.

You rush back to the desk, where Steve does look up, startled by your urgency.

“My stuff,” you spit out, “My stuff is gone! Someone took it!”

Steve shrugs. “Sorry.” He points to a sign behind him: “We are not responsible for the loss of items inside or outside storage lockers.”

“Are you fucking kidding?” You can’t the anger in your voice this time. “You just watched someone walk off with my stuff and didn’t say anything?”

Steve raises his eyebrows. “If it was that important, you shouldn’t have left it here. Or you should have given us another card.”

You feel like throwing your hands up but you just clench your fist and storm out the door, huffing as you reach your car. The anger melts into the sense of loss, the realization that you only have a few meager items that you’d managed to collect; you picked the lightest stuff, first. And in retrospect it was things that didn’t matter much at all. Clothes. Hair supplies. Makeup. You should have grabbed the box with your USB sticks, your memory cards, your photo albums; your personal mementos and sentimental shit. Instead you grabbed the box with your shampoo.

At least the clothes might get something in a pawnshop. The makeup, too, on Facebook or Depop or Instagram. But it wouldn’t be enough to put you up in an apartment. You’ll have to live in your car. Until they repossess it for lack of payment.

You don’t have your bank account, your credit cards, your job, a place to stay, or your personal possessions. And soon, you won’t have your car.

You have no friends. No boyfriend. No family.

All you have $20 left in your wallet and well, fuck it. You grab some McDonalds on the way home because, fuck it, and eat all the fries before you make it to the motel. The thought of eating in your dirty room makes your stomach turn and you decide to eat everything else you bought, the burger and the shake and the chicken nuggets too, tossing the wrappers on the floor. It feels like deja vu--getting cheap fast food to make you feel full, tossing trash on the floor of the passenger seat, all bringing back the way you used to when you’d grab something from the dollar menu on your way to work at the call center.

You almost wish you could stay at this hotel, brown water and all. The owner is decently nice. He smiles at you when you enter and doesn’t bring up that you didn’t come back with more boxes, like you said you would.  

You’re surprised at how grateful you feel for the dingy hotel room now that you won’t be able to stay here more than another day. Now that the alternative is sleeping in your car, then sleeping on the street, if you were lucky.

Your phone feels heavy when you set it on the table and stare at the home screen. Another photo of you and Ransom stares back up at you. You haven’t had time to change it up yet. He’s grinning. You’re smiling. It’s a good photo. You try to place it in your memory, try to remember what beach that was, but your trips blur together and you can’t.

Should you call him? If it was just the cards, just him being petty over credit and finances, it was one thing. You could try to placate him with returning gifts, just asking him to give you what you put in from your own paychecks. But making you lose your job? It was too far, too fucking far. And there was no going back from that. Fuck, someone was probably moving into your office as you sat in this dimly lit room mourning the loss of your entire life.

For a brief, very fleeting moment, you consider calling Harlan. You weren’t exceptionally close, but he seemed to like you well enough. He’d even asked you once, puling you aside at a tension-filled family party, if Ransom treated you right, told you to tell him if he ever got to be too much. Harlan felt like Ransom’s keeper--in more ways than one. You could never tell Harlan about the shouts or the occasional bruises from when Ransom really, really lost his temper--it’s not like you could prove them, anyway, as Ransom made sure to keep you away from his family when he lost control like that. No need for excuses about running into doors when he made sure you looked your best at family functions.

But the thought of breaking the uneasy stasis that Ransom had with the most significant member of his family made you want to vomit. There would be no coming back from that, and you knew better than to cross any line involving the great Harlan Thrombey.

You could call your friend--ex-friend? The one who didn’t block you or forget your number. You should. No, you will. Because what else do you have to lose.

But before you can bring up her number, you get a text--Ransom. It’s a photo and your curiosity gets the better of you as you click the notification.

“What the fuck?”

He’s sent you a photo of his car, trunk open. It’s filled with boxes, odds-and-ends. It’s filled with your stuff.

You text him: What??

He texts back: Hey. I’m in front of the hotel. Come out? Bring your suitcase. :P

It’s your stuff. It’s his car. He’s here. All reason is thrown aside as you grab your suitcase and purse and rush down the hallway, ignoring the owner’s confused response from behind his desk as you push open the front doors and look around the parking lot.

His car is parked to the side, not in front of the hotel’s glass double doors. He’s standing outside his car, leaning against it. He takes off his sunglasses and tucks them in his pocket when he sees you approaching, face confused and fuming all at once.

“What the fuck, Ransom, what the fuck is your problem--”

“Hey, hey,” he says, hands up in defense, “You’re not even going to thank me for picking up your stuff?”

You feel suddenly, impossibly rooted to the spot.

“What do you--what? You took my stuff?”

He shrugs. “C’mon, did you really think I’d just leave your stuff in some shitty storage unit? Someone would’ve taken it if I didn’t get there first.”

You swallow. “Why?” You ask, because Ransom never does anything for no reason. Or so you’ve learned.

His expression loses a bit of its cocky casualness. He tilts his head a bit, looking at you as if you’ve asked a particularly offensive question.

“Why do you think?”

To lord it over you? To make you think your stuff was gone and make you worried, sick, crazy?

“I don’t know,” is what you settle for in the end. “I really, really don’t. You--” You lick your lips, and try to calm down, calm the pitter-patter of your heart, and think before you speak. “You’ve done some pretty messed up stuff today. My job?” The last question comes out soft and pained, and you know your eyes are starting to tear up.

“Hey.” His voice is soft and placating and it makes your stomach flip as he approaches you, standing there on the sidewalk with your purse and suitcase. “Hey, c’mon. Don’t cry on me.”

You know this Ransom. The Ransom that holds you and pets your hair and offers to get Thai food delivered even though he doesn’t like it just to make you happy.

He puts his hand on your shoulder and you jerk it away. “Don’t.” That Ransom is a fantasy. Or an incomplete version, the version that pretends he doesn’t lie and cheat and hurt you in more ways than one. “Don’t you fucking dare, especially not after what you pulled today. My job? My job, Ransom? You’re a--a fucking asshole.”

He puts his hands up again, defensive, and takes a step back. But he doesn’t return to his car, and stays just a few steps in front of you.

“Look. Call me an asshole. Sure, fine, I can admit that. But do you know what else I am?”

He waits a beat, waits for you to look at him, before he continues. “I’m a realist. I like facts. And the fact is? You aren’t much without me. No job, no credit cards, no bank account. Without me, you’re just some broke chick scrambling to get an apartment in the shittiest part of town, working a dead-end job that don’t pay shit. With me though…. “

He leaves the words unfinished, but you know what he means. Flashes of your life, cocktails and smart business outfits and dinners at restaurants you didn’t even dream about attending before you met him. Phone calls with shakers in the industry and social media requests from people you’d never dream you’d meet. Connections that meant something, a career path, dinner parties with people who could offer tangible benefits to your career and your life.

It wasn’t that he spoiled you. He wasn’t a sugar daddy. You weren’t getting gifts for blowjobs. It was that his presence in your life boosted you, socially, financially, mentally, physically, in every which way possible.

His presence got you a job that you loved, which meant you weren’t burnt out when you came home, which meant that you had the time and energy to spend hours catching up on books or redecorating the house or watching movies. Good money meant you could order in whenever you felt like it, meant you didn’t have to worry if you burned dinner because you could just buy new steaks or order-in or go out, last minute, and still get a great table. It meant you had all the clothes you wanted, stylish and personally tailored; it meant you had easy access to a gym and exercise equipment and an indoor pool to keep you healthy. It meant you had a life that provided comfort in every way possible.

Being with Ransom Drysdale was like… like a little shot of privilege directly into your arm.

Privilege that he took away just as easily as he gave it. Just as easily as you took it. Just as easily as you took it and eagerly ignored the dark side underneath. Or maybe you didn’t ignore it. Maybe you liked it, maybe it reminded you of who you were underneath the designer clothes and expensive dinners.

Maybe you wanted to fix him, like he fixed you? He wasn’t totally bad, after all, he did make sure no one took your belongings. Maybe it was your presence that gave him the idea for that touch of sympathy, maybe with Ransom change was slow and muddled, not picture-perfect sweeping changes like the kind in movies.

“So?” Ransom’s voice cuts through your thoughts. “Are you going to come home or,” he waves his hands around dismissively, at the hotel, at you.

You feel very, very less-than right now. You look awful, your hair mussy and your makeup mostly melted off with sweat and sun. You probably smell more than you normally do, thanks to the lack of a shower. Your muscles, sore from the motel bed, ache for the large spa bathtub that Ransom had installed in the master bathroom just for you, stocked with bubbles and salts and overpriced bath bombs that were $10 a pop.

But your muscles had hurt before, when he pushed you against the dresser.

You have nothing, and no one. Except Ransom. Ransom who didn’t judge you when you instinctively saved plastic bottles and boxes, but merely nudged you towards recycling and took you out to splurge on a reusable water bottle and proper storage containers the next day. Ransom who asked you what sort of job you wanted, really wanted, and made it happen for you. Ransom who shrugged and wiped away your credit card debt without making you feel like shit.

Ransom who didn’t let you leave the house if your wrists were sporting fingerprint shaped bruises. Ransom who argued with you about talking to men, even men at work. Ransom who held you tight at night and said he never wanted to let you go, and wouldn’t you just make a fine-ass addition his crazy family. Ransom who took care of you, now that you had no one else.

“What do you want me to do?” The words feel slow, sluggish. Like they wanted to stick to the roof of your mouth and it took everything in you to get them out.

His voice turns low and serious as he stares at you with an characteristic expression. “Well, the first thing is to get down on your knees…”

You feel your eyes practically bugging out.

“What the fuck, Ransom?”

He laughs. He always did have a nice laugh.

“I’m just messing with you, Jesus. Take a chi-I-il pill. Just grab your purse and come sit your sweet ass in the front seat. Let’s go get some burgers, I’m starving.”

Your legs feel like jelly when you take that first step, and the sound of your roller suitcase as you pull it along seems louder than ever. Ransom pops the truck and you just manage to fit it inside with the handle closed, jamming it in between some boxes at an odd angle. The handle of the passenger side is familiar, warm from the sun.

You open the door and practically shove yourself into the seat, closing the door as fast as possible. You can’t do more than glance at him as humiliation and anxiety and just the smallest bit of relief washes over you. It’s been less than 24 hours since you broke up, and here you are--again.

He’s staring at you quietly, his expression difficult to place. He looks relieved. He looks annoyed. He looks like he wants to kiss you. He looks like he wants to slap you. Maybe he wants to do it all at once and can’t decide which to pick.

Instead, he puts his hand on your thigh. Gives it a squeeze. Hard, bordering on painful.  He’s staring straight ahead, at the worn-out sign on the hotel’s front door, one hand gripping the flesh of your thigh. He looks good in profile. “Don’t ever try to pull something like that again. I mean it. I really mean it.”

You turn, glance out the window, familiar tears at the edge of your eyes.

“I won’t,” you whisper, dreaming of the tub and bubbles and how good a warm soak will feel on your back, on your thighs, on your soul.

“Good girl,” he says, patting your thigh firmly. He plucks his sunglasses out of pocket and puts them on in a smooth motion. The car starts smoothly, its fine-tuned and expensive engine a familiar sound, and your hands feel robotic as you pull the seatbelt over your chest and click it tight.

“Let’s get dinner and get home. You have some unpacking to do.”

[ohheyitsokay]

Home

this all takes place in my poly frontier universe

pairing: triple frontier guys - Will “Ironhead” Miller, Santiago “Pope” Garcia, Francisco (Frankie) “Catfish” Morales, and Ben “Benny” Miller x (f) reader

wordcount: 3k

warnings: obviously a poly relationship, which includes kissing, domestic intimacy with all of them (not just with the reader, but not in-between Will and Ben because nope), mild sexual themes

summary: scenes at the beginning of making a house with five people feel like home

<<

The manicured grass is soft where it peaked around the edges of your sandals. Hands running over the grooves of they key in your pocket, you gaze around the little front yard, mind conjuring daydreams that fit on the weathered porch of the house.

Two bathrooms will be enough right? Your thoughts are running - creating and erasing images of the future, trying to squish them like magic into the home in front of you. The yard is big enough to extend the garage and for plenty of home projects…

Across the fence and a long stretch of field, a woman is hiking her skirts up, making a beeline for you. The neighbor’s house is a considerable distance away, being out in the countryside, but she must have been watching your tour from her garden with interest.

The others had left moments before, Santi promising to come back whenever you were done. After weeks of looking at houses, it became a little ritual of yours, to spend a few minutes looking around without the clutter of wonderful distractions.

“So which one of those strapping young men is your beau?” She asks conspiringly, eyes gleaming. It catches you off guard – the lack of introduction, but she seems harmless enough.

Your smile is equally mischievous, and your head tilts a hair.

“Well, which one do you think?”

The woman considers, boot tip tapping away at her grass. You replay the moments she could’ve seen, which were few, wondering if you’d leaned in any particular direction, and wait.

“Now that I think about it, I haven’t got a clue,” her smile is wide, softer and more genuine than before - polite. “As long as you’re good neighbors,” she explains, “I guess I wouldn’t care if it was one or all of you next door.”

You smile, thanking her as salutations ring in your ears, watching with grateful eyes as she hikes back towards her home. Then you move, wandering through the empty rooms for long, quite minutes before you peak over the fence again. The woman had gone inside, and if you squint you can see who you think is her husband, sleeping with a dog on the porch.

In the other directions, there isn’t a house within a reasonable distance. A knot loosens in your chest, as an unexpected feeling of freedom from judging eyes blooms in its place.

When Santi comes back to pick you up, you take his hand across the console. His skin is warm, and his thumb automatically begins to gently move across your knuckles.

“I think it’s perfect, Pope.”

He looks at you curiously, minding his thoughts for a moment.

“Yeah, love?”

The sun was beginning to set, and you look at the peaceful little home in the rear view mirror, and smile.

“Yeah.”

-

“What?”

“We need to … break in every room.”

“I’m just saying -"

“Oh he’s talking about – wait are you really horny, right now?”

“There are boxes everywhere, idiot.”

You walk in carrying a single plant and a stack of pizzas and the conversation hushes.

“Ah – payment,” Frankie kisses your cheek, moving the plant by the window as Santi clears the table.

Someone makes a quip about it being Santi’s house and you wince, the utopia popping.

“We don’t get paid to move our own stuff, Catfish.” His dark hair is damp with sweat but he seems otherwise unaffected by the hours spent hauling. It was still surreal – that this is actually happening, that this unanimously became a long term desire.

He has the most money and Will has the best credit score, so they bought the house to save you all from questions. The movement isn’t lost on your Ironhead, and he rubs a soothing circle on your shoulder as he reaches for a plate. Of everyone, he was the one who most understood your anxiety – close proximity always led to arguments at first.

“You got lucky,” Benny takes the first slice, accepting a napkin for an additional piece. “You fell in love with a pretty good moving crew.”

“I think so,” you grin, trying to ignore your anxiety. He inhales the food, pulling you into his lap as he bickers with Will about whether or not more needed to get done today.

Eventually Frankie dictates that at the very least some cleaning should be started and the bedding should be unpacked for the evening. The agree with varying degrees of enthusiasm and after a handful of innuendos your loves begin to disperse, too dutiful to let work go unfinished. The bedframe practically builds itself, and a portable speaker makes Santi’s hips twitch as he floats through the half-barren rooms.

When Will rolls his eyes at Frankie’s choice of screw, you duck away, nerves thrumming.

And you wander around, fake cleaning, until you find your Benny clearing pizza plates. Even amongst boxes and bins and old blankets, he could be at a photo shoot. The evening light make his hair look like silk, and his eyes shine like he’s making you promises this very moment.

“I wouldn’t worry too much,” he says, drawing you into his arms as your head tilts. “We spent years in bunks and tents, and we were younger then.”

His chest was warm and you press your cheek to it, nodding. You hadn’t thought he had noticed, how anxious you’d been about the change, but you had been foolish. Even through his shirt, you can feel the thumping of his giant heart, steady as a drumbeat.

Replaying the evening in your mind, you let go of some of your worries, one by one, and he kisses the top of your head. It’s a thoughtful thing, and it never ceases to amaze you how easily he can wrap you around his finger.

“Ben?”

He makes a noise, somewhere between a hum and a grunt.

You pull his face down to yours, kissing him hard. It was a kiss that says you're grateful, and a kiss that says you love him for being… him.

He accepts it eagerly, and tiredness from the day long gone ad he presses hot, open-mouthed kisses to your lips. The world spins and you feel him shove something heavy off the couch before replacing it with you.

The cushions are dusty from everything but he makes space, and you stop caring as he moves on top of you.

The others would find you soon, their instincts kicking in, but you savor it. Benny, pressing into you, kissing you in the evening light.

The beginning of their conversation from earlier blooms in your mind and you grin as his lips trailed down your neck. It suddenly didn’t seem implausible that he planned this.

“Breaking in” aside, this was the first room you where you truly felt like this could be home.

-

You feel his hands gently replace yours on the zipper and you jump a little - he stands just outside the mirror reflection as you watch the skirts around your ankles. Behind you the big bed is made neatly, there’s a ridiculously large closet, and a tangle of phone chargers.

The bedroom: the place that set apart your home from others. The room that housed five individuals, a web of relationships, a miracle of mixed bodies and minds and hearts.

It looks big, behind you.

Warm, daft fingers tie the extra strings, a neat little bow hanging just between your shoulder blades. The silence is thick, weighted with adoration, but when he breaks it, it’s as if he can’t resist.

“You’re beautiful,” he moves closer, kissing your temple and drinking you in. Turning, your heart aches.

Will is in his dress uniform, crisscrossed with crisp lines and newly shined awards. His hair is lighter after the summer, and he tried to comb it neatly to one side. Compliments catch in your throat as you stare and he smiles, turning you gently so he can kiss you properly. His mouth tastes like mint and you can smell hints of his cologne lingering on his skin.

“Look at you,” you murmur, lips still brushing over his. Letting your hands wander over his face, smoothing his eyebrows, you feel almost in awe of him. Still, he flushes, pleased at your reaction.

“Thank you.”

His chuckle is warm, almost raspy as he tries to enjoy the quietness of your conversation, and he shakes his head. Really, you were sure he was thankful that he was been the only one free for your special evening.

“Thank you,” you correct him. “You didn’t have to do any of this.” The dinner, for your job.

In the mirror, he looked like diamonds and sapphires and gold. Will was like an action figure sometimes, solid and sculpted and stoic, but… he was looking at you like you’d hung the stars in the sky.

It made you blink, his eyes sliding over you, pupils just a little more blown than the lighting required - a gentle reset demanding your attention.

Looking back in the mirror for a moment, the room didn’t seem quite as big, or quite as revealing. It was comforting, how out of place the two of you looked, dressed to the nines because… this was your place. The softness surrounded by details perfectly woven into your life.

Turning, you slip your arms around his neck, gently musing his hair, and his eyebrows draw together, accepting, but confused.

And as you tuck your hand into his elbow and step into your heels, you resist the urge to thank him again.

“I like it better like this,” you admit, and he flushes again, beaming. Looking around, you realize you’re actually looking forward to coming home more than you’re excited to leave. It’s a new feeling, in this space with the four of them and it hits you, hard in your chest. Still, the man beside you is unwavering and you let the feeling consume you, knowing that you’re safe.

-

“Frankie, what is that?”

He flinches, nervousness cutting the excitement on his face.

“Rhetorical question,” Santi says, grinning at you. “He got it from a friend who was going to toss it out.”

It’s a hot tub, taking up a decent chunk of your back porch.

“If anyone can make it work like a dream, it’s Catfish.” Will’s tone is matter-of-fact, all honesty and pride.

Your sweet Francisco drops his tool and grabs your hand, his dark eyes big. “¿Cariño, por favor? From me, to you?” You can see his laptop up, replacement parts on saved tabs, and you tiptoe to kiss his cheek. He likes to have projects, needs to have somewhere to do things, fix things, create things. Maybe at one point it was because he liked the distraction, it was a … replacement coping mechanism, if you will, but it became his pride, to use his hands to improve your lives.

It doesn’t take long, two weeks at most, between his job and his loves, and his long list of honey-dos, but he does it.

“Please and thank you,” you say, and when he kisses you, slow and deep and happy, you hear cheers and high-five and you almost can’t kiss him because he’s smiling.

And it takes awhile to fill, (Will thanking the stars that the water bill is reasonable,) and even longer to heat, and then it’s ready. The boys yank on swim trunks, thanking Frankie with enthusiasm, and you watch them sink into the steaming tub with as they sigh.

You have a bathing suit, of course you do, but you pull on one of his work shirts, knowing he won’t mind the chemicals from the water making the stains blur. And you pair of shorts you caught him watching your butt in, thinking of acknowledging his hard work in your own way.

The volume of your bodies makes it overflow, hot water sloshing onto the ground, but it’s bliss. It’s big, and they shout over the bubbles, talking excitedly about the future, and your heart feels warm in your favorite way.

The others leave early, taking loud laughter with them, and it leaves you and your Catfish. You let yourself float, moving right on top of him, and his hands grab at your hips, slipping and sliding over your skin as he kisses you once, twice. Slow.

It’s late – the stars stretch, there’s a bit of a breeze, and there’s not a light on for miles.

“You like it?” his voice is raspy, quiet, intense, but almost shy. Like if you said no it would break him in two.

“Of course I do, Frankie.” He looks pleased, hand absentmindedly running under his shirt and over your side. Even with the heat of the water, his hand feels like socks warmed in the dryer some cold winter morning. Comforting, maybe a little electric.

You let out a long, happy sigh, and settle against him, content to stay with him until you’re pruny.

“I think…. This is exactly what this house needed.” He starts a little, surprised, but it’s not an exaggeration.

There was always work to do and things to change, but it was the first time you looked out, and didn’t feel a twinge of fear, that anyone was looking in. It would’ve felt vulnerable, intimate to be so exposed, but… it was perfect, because he created it for you. Confidence and pride bubble around you, and Frankie’s eyebrows dip as he smiles – understanding.

-

“Yeah.” Its simple, not too hot, not too cold. Just… right.

It feels like… tar and lava, hot and dark and thick, bubbling and sticky and you want to punch something. Or scream, or cry.

Your Pope finds you standing rigid, smudges of flour on your skin and clothes, pans and spatulas strewn.

“Are we out of sugar?” To your credit, you try to keep your voice even, but he knows you better than that.

Santi shakes his head, plucking it from the pantry and looking guilty. Your mind pauses it’s rampage, and you wince, because you should be the one making that apologetic face, not him. Hot tears bubble in your eyes and you hate it, hate that they’re coming for what feels like no reason.

“Baby,” he says, tone pleading, setting the sugar down and reaching for you. The afternoon sun makes his eyes like rich, deep pots of gold, his hair somehow both soft and statuesque.

When he pauses, the tears fall against your will, just two thick drops down your cheeks. His hand encompasses your whole jaw, thumb gentle as it rubs away the saltwater, and he looks a tad helpless.

And there’s understanding in his eyes and through the blur you think maybe it’s pity. He stands, and your heart clenches, knowing he’ll go get Will, or someone because you’re being ridiculous but… he doesn’t.

You’re saying something about how the kitchen is wrong, how it’s been building for days, you’ve been here almost a week and you can’t fucking find anything. Panic and frustration locked horns in your chest and you couldn’t breathe and all you wanted to do was make something nice –

Instead, he’s pulling out things and piling them onto the floor in categories around you. It’s almost comical the stacks he makes but he seems determined and in your confusion the tears slow to a stop.

“Santi –” he hushes you. The cupboard doors hang open, and he guides you, lifting you up and up and into his arms. It’s solid and grounding, and he’s not as tall as the others and you needed him desperately.

And slowly, you begin to put things away where it makes sense, to you, and he helps. Not once does he argue with you, not even a moment when his dark eyebrows knit together in judgement. Dutifully he cleans and places everything just where you tell him, and you can almost feel the steam rising off of you as you begin to cool.

The final pile is a mountain of cloth, aprons and oven mitts and… something you’ve never seen before. Or actually, something you had, just not in your house. A set of hand towels you’d wistfully looked at awhile ago, before talking yourself out of the purchase. You had dozens at this point and didn’t need more but…

The man seating on the floor, folding them into perfect squares, is the answer to the question your mind produces.

You feel like you’ve been hosed down from head to toe, almost cold from the absence of frustration in your blood.

Pushing the pile to the side you climb into his lap, as determined as he was, and he looks surprised. It’s silly: sitting in your lover’s lap on the kitchen floor, but it feels more real than a movie. It’s your kitchen, yours and his, in this moment.

You kiss him, slow and purposeful and –

He knows you like the back of his hand.

-

You’re sitting on the bathroom counter distracting Santi as he shaves when Benny bursts in to tell you a story.

Will trails behind him, patiently waiting for his brother to take a breathe so he can set the record straight. Absentmindedly he weaves between them to pick up a fallen hand towel, passing it to Pope to wipe the shaving cream from his jaw. They share a moment and Benny’s story stutters out. Looking up from your nails you see Frankie leaning against the doorframe, a toothbrush hanging from his mouth.

There’s hardly room to move – and you couldn’t have it any other way.

His eyebrows are bent as he takes in the four of you, crammed into the spare bathroom, and Ben laughs.

<<

taglist:

@fangirl-316 @scribbledghost @writeforfandoms @beautyagegoodnesssize @princess76179 @mrsbentallmadge @horton-hears-a-honk

for the poly frontier:

@grogusmum

[a-multi-fandom-fanboy]

How about a Felix X Y/N x Jack one off? Like, both the guys y/n?

Heehee scandalous)

This wasn't something you were used to. You would usually keep your distance from people unless you knew it was important. So you didn't exactly know what to do when both of your bosses began to actively pursue your interest you were quite overwhelmed. Today began like any other with you both mentally and physically getting ready to go to work. Once you had gotten there though the usual shenanigans would begin with Jack and Felix. Felix always came in a little bit later than Jack so you knew you'd have until when Felix showed up to do your job without breaking them up from some sort of argument. You attempted to avoid Jack as to actually get at least a little bit of work done today but it seems that he wasn't going to have any of it.

"Good morning (Y/N)." He greeted you in a rather cheerful tone. You sighed before responding not nearly as cheerfully but close.

"How was your night?" He asked. You then noticed that he seemed a bit anxious and was nervously drumming his fingers on his thigh. He had sounded so calm just a few moments ago and you found that to be kind of weird. You raised an eyebrow at this but decided it might be best to continue the conversation.

"It was alright. How about yours?" You questioned trying to help ease your bosses obvious anxiety.

"Mine was quite alright. Would you mind staying a bit late tonight? I have something I need to talk to you about." He asked. You guessed this was probably what he was nervous about.

"No I wouldn't mind. What's this about?" You questioned curiously. What could possibly have your usually calm and stoic boss acting so oddly? That was something you would definitely like to know.

"You'll see later. I can't quite tell you right now. I have some paperwork to do. If you need me I'll be in my office." He said still seeming quite shaken up. This has never happened before and you found it to be rather concerning. None the less you got back to work. Your earlier experience with Jack had left you so distracted that you hadn't even noticed Felix had shown up. Well at least not until he tapped you on the shoulder and scared the piss out of you.

"Sorry! I just uh...hi." He said with a nervous smile. Not Felix too!

"So has Jack asked you about anything today. You know regarding a talk?" He continued. You cocked your head to the side.

"Yeah...how did you know that?" You questioned finding everything about today quite odd.

"Oh uh just making sure! We'll both be talking to you later by the way." He stated before quickly jogging into his office. You were beyond confused at this point. Why were they acting like this? What did they need to talk to you about? The whole situation was beginning to put you on edge and you spent the rest of your day trying to figure out what was going to happen. Were they going to fire you?? You hoped not. Being jobless wasn't exactly ideal. Soon enough the end of the day came and while everyone else was clocking out, you were quietly waiting in the dining room for Felix and Jack.

"Sorry about that. Didn't mean to keep you waiting so long." Felix said causing you to lose your rather negative train of thought. Both Felix and Jack stood in front of you now. Still as nervous as they were this morning.

"It's fine. Plus it wasn't even that long. So what was it you guys wanted to talk to me about?" You asked, messing with the hem of your uniforms button up. They both seemed to exchange glances before Felix took the lead.

"Well...we need to come clean to you about something..." Felix took a deep breath before continuing, "(Y/N) we've liked you for quite awhile and we need to know if you like either of us back." You stood there for a moment in shock. You weren't quite sure how to say it but you knew you had to say it.

"I..."

Should I make a part two with a Felix ending, Jack ending, and Poly ending? Also I hope you enjoyed!)

[felix21im]

"Ice Cold", a Leon Kennedy x reader fanfiction

As an Art and Design student all you want to do is just knuckle down and finish that one goddamn piece you've been working on for months. Too bad your time is constantly stolen by your Waiter job with minimal pay, but hey, at least the tips are good if you unbutton your shirt that one more time.

Masterlist

Chapter 1: Bourbon

“That’s gotta be moved over like two inches to the left.” You muttered to yourself. Your eraser ran across the sketches and removed the pencil lines that you had created earlier. Studying interior design was one of the best ways to secure you that internship you’ve been working so hard for.

“Yoo hoo!” A whistle was heard from beside you, your fellow colleague and best friend tapped you on the shoulder, pulling you out of your study-induced trance. “You’ve got another table to serve. They literally just sat down so make sure that you greet them.” You let out a sigh, laying your latest drawing to the side. On the way to the table you check your hair in a mirror before putting on a smile. You can see two middle aged men talking while looking at multiple files placed on the table. You walk toward them. "Good evening, is there anything I can get for the two of you?"

The larger man with the shorter hair began to speak for the both of them. “Two bourbons please.” He said simply.

“Will they be with ice?” You ask, beginning to write down their drinks order on your small notepad.

“Yeah I’ll have ice in mine please.” The one with longer hair requested with a polite point and a smirk. The other man simply shook his head at the question of ice. You smiled at the two of them as you turned around. A few minutes later you return with both of their drinks and put them in front of them, being careful not to spill anything over their work-stuff. They both thank you with a small nod before you go around to your other tables. A few hours pass and people come and go but these two men still sit at their table, talking, drinking and taking some notes. You went over to their table a few times that evening to refill their drinks or bring some small things to nibble on, but you couldn't find out what they were talking about. It seems that as soon as you went over to them they changed the subject. “A super secret mission.” You chuckled to yourself as you stood at the bar, packing your study materials away. You can’t clean a bar with books and paper all over it.

While cleaning you heard someone clear their throat and you looked up. In front of you stood one of the men, the one with longer hair. “Oh my, excuse me. Can I help you with anything?” The man chuckled lightly and looked at the mess in front of you. “My friend over there and I wanted to get another drink before paying. But it seems you are quite busy here.” You looked at the mess and then at him and you couldn’t stop yourself from checking him out. It seems he noticed it, but didn't say anything. “I’m sorry for that, it won’t happen again. I’ll deliver your drinks to your table right away!” The man nodded and went back to his friend, sitting directly opposite them but also facing the direction of the bar. You let out a small sigh before putting the books away and preparing the drinks for the men. The man never said what drinks he wanted but considering the two of them have only been drinking bourbon, bourbon was a good choice. Before starting you tightened your apron, greatly exaggerating your waist, although you could barely breathe you knew that it made you more attractive to patreons. The patreons liking you equals more tips. While making the drinks you made sure to add enough ice in the second drink, so they just might forgive you for your behaviour. As you placed the two glasses on your serving tray you noticed the long haired man give you a small smirk. You went to their table once more and put the beverages in front of them while smiling at both of them. You also left a bill on the table before heading back to the bar, the echo of your shoes making you feel anxious as you walked, causing you to begin holding your tray in both of your hands in front of your stomach. On your way back you heard one of the men say something, which made the short haired one shake his head. You were wondering if they talked about something you did but didn’t want to be rude and ask them about it. It was pretty late already so only a few other people were still at the restaurant. You wanted to get home at some point that night so you hoped that the last guests would be leaving soon. Just as you thought that, you saw the two men you were serving get up and leave the restaurant. Before going through the exit door the man with longer hair looked back at you and gave you a wink. You let out a small laugh and shook your head. You went to the table they left from to clean up and collect the money. You noticed a small note with something written on it. A phone number, you realised. “Call me ;)” was written beside it. You looked around and put the piece of paper in your pocket with a light smile on your face. That smile quickly turned into a shocked face though as you noticed a massive tip laying next to the bill. You didn't even know what to do, so you just stood there looking at the money. As you looked at the flurry of green bills you could hear footsteps behind you and soon your coworker stood next to you, also looking at the money.

“Well, someone seems to like you”, they laughed “Maybe those apron and shirt tricks you do work too well.” You shook your head and left your coworker standing there as they chuckled at their joke.

A little while later the restaurant was empty thanks to the closing hours, and you cleaned the last tables. But before you had the chance to leave as well, you saw the door opening once again. “I’m sorry, we’re closed!” You looked up and saw the long haired man standing in the doorway. Other than just his hair you could instantly tell it was him, the fancy suit helped a lot. “Did you forget anything? I actually think you left too much money when you left with your friend.” You picked up the cash that was placed in an envelope under the bar and began to get the money out of it. “I can give it right back to you, if that's why you came back.”

The man shook his head and slightly chuckled. “No, the tip was meant to be like that. I was actually wondering..”, he stepped closer toward the bar you were standing at. “..Why didn't you text me yet.”

You had to laugh. “Oh, I’m sorry. Maybe I didn’t have the time yet because I had some work to do and you left that note like ten minutes ago!” You chuckled yet again. “Trust me I was going to call you!”

Now it was his time to let out a dry laugh. “Yeah, I'm sure you would have. Anyways, now that I’m here again and it seems your work is done, how about we get your favorite drink together?”

“I mean we are closed…” You raised your eyebrows and crossed your arms over your puffed out chest. “But I’ll let you get a drink this one time.” He seemed satisfied with that answer so he sat down on one of the bar chairs, followed by him tapping the empty space next to him. “At least let me make your drink before I sit down!” You playfully rolled your eyes and began pouring liquor into a shaker. You noticed him looking at his phone after receiving a message from someone. “Someone at home is missing you already?” You asked jokingly as you placed your fruity, yet strong, favourite drink on the bar.

He shook his head. “Not at all. Just my.. Colleague asking what I'm up to.” He put his phone on the counter. You went around the bar and pushed a glass towards the man and sat down on the empty stool beside him. “I never got your name. I’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours.” He smirked as he took a sip from the drink. “Not bad.”

You chuckled as you pointed at the name tag that was attached to your shirt. The man looked at you dumbfounded. “Well, this is awkward now. Doesn't seem like a fair trade anymore.”

“I’ll just hope that you were being respectful and you didn’t want to look at my chest.” You winked and couldn’t contain your laughter as you did up the buttons on your shirt, hiding the “money makers” as your best friend would call them. The man looked at your chest for a moment as you did up your buttons before quickly looking away. You could see his face get a little red, although you weren't sure if it was a reaction to what you just said or the alcohol finally showing effect. He cleared his throat and seemed to want to change the subject. “Ehem..the name’s Leon S. Kennedy, by the way.”

“Ooo S. Kennedy huh? Am I going to have to guess what the S stands for?” You tucked a strand of hair behind your ear as you talked.

“Go for it.” He laughed and took another sip of the drink.

“Uhhh… Steven?” A head shake. “Sam?” A no again. ”Sexy?” A chuckle but still a no. “Ugh I give up!”

“It’s Scott.”

“Scott, huh? Sounds kinda cute.” You laughed as you looked at Leon and then the clock behind him. “Even though we haven’t spent much of an evening together we’re going to have to call it quits, I have to lock up now.”

Leon turned around to look at the clock. “That’s a shame.” He turned back to face you. “Y’know I’ve got some drinks back at my place if you’re interested.” He raised his eyebrows as he asked for the date to continue.

You thought about the offer for a moment, you didn’t have any classes in the morning so maybe it would be fun. “Wine?” You asked and he replied with a nod. As the two of you stood up from your stools you quickly paced around the restaurant making sure everything was perfect. The lights were off. All of the switches were off. And finally the security alarm was turned on. You shuffled Leon along as you left the restaurant, making sure that he wasn’t trapped in there when you locked the door. “Alright, that’s everything!” You placed your keys into your work bag and slung it over your shoulder. As the two of you walked to the parking lot you looked down at your phone and secretly texted your roommate saying you were going to be out much longer than anticipated and that your location was being shared with them. Just in case.

Leon fished his keys out of his pocket and tapped a button on the car keys, causing a nearby car to light up. With the size of that tip that Leon left an expensive black sports car belonging to him shouldn’t have been a surprise. “Woah! What car is this?” You asked, not knowing anything about cars apart from the fact that most of them have four wheels.

“It’s a Porsche Nine-Eleven.” He replied. “It’s my favourite.”

“Your favourite? Meaning you have multiple cars?” You questioned. “Can I borrow one? I don’t even have a car.” You chuckled as you opened the door to the luxury car. Leon chuckled too as he got into his seat and tapped a few buttons on the dashboard. The entire car began to roar as it’s engine was turned on, making your entire body shake. Making your entire body heat up. “Is it hot in here or is it just me?” You asked.

He chuckled. “It’s because your heated seat is on. I can turn it off if you would like.”

As the car traveled you looked out of the window and when turning to your left you noticed that the lights in the car softly lit up Leon’s face as he drove the car. Showing off his sharp jaw and slight stubble.

After a twenty minute drive you step out of the car onto the gravel driveway and you hear the stones crunching underneath your feet. Leon walks up beside you and leads you up the stairs to the front door. Reaching into his front right pocket he pulls out his keys and unlocks the double doors, allowing you to walk through before he did so too and then close the door behind him. “Woah! You have such a cool house!” The large modern chandelier reflected onto the marble flooring in the entryway. Leon kicked off his shoes and pushed them over to the side of the wall, prompting you to do the exact same. “You have no idea how much I hate these shoes, they are so uncomfortable, especially when you wear them for twelve hour shifts without sitting down.”

“Why on earth do you wear them if they hurt you?” He asks as he takes off his jacket, hanging it up on a coat rack beside the door. He reaches out his hand to take off yours as well, to which you respond with a smile. You turn around and he carefully takes it off of you, followed by him then placing it on the coat rack next to his own.

"I don't have much to choose from when it comes to clothing. Just in general our work uniforms aren't really the best of the best."

Together the two of you went into the kitchen and you sat at a bar stool, leaning on the counter. As you waited for Leon to fix you up a drink you noticed just how empty the house has been so far. “Wow it’s quite empty, going for the minimalistic vibe huh?”

Leon shook his head as he placed two wine glasses down on the counter, both with ice. “I just haven’t gotten around to decorating this place yet.” He poured both glasses full and sat then leant on the counter in front of you, placing your drink next to your hand. “I mean I’ve only been here for like 3 years but I’m a busy man.”

You picked up your drink and almost dropped it after hearing that response. "Three years? You must be reaaally busy if you didn't have time for at least some decoration. What are you doing all the time anyway?" You took the drink and a small sip before standing up with it still in your hand. Leon looked at you kind of confused, but following you nevertheless. You walked around the kitchen, then the other rooms. You were talking nonstop about the stuff Leon could put on the walls, the floor or just anywhere really. He couldn't even say anything because it seems you were in your own world already planning the entire interior design of his house. Leon was following you through all the rooms as if he was actually visiting you and not the other way around. While planning the designs for Leon’s home you realised just how excited you were to do this officially as a job in the future. Creating your own interior design company and being your own boss was something you had in mind ever since you were a child. After who knows how long you both finished your drinks and also the house tour. You ended back at the kitchen where you started and both sat down on what seems to be the only chairs in this humongous house. Leon went away for a few seconds before returning with yet another bottle of what appeared to be some expensive wine. “You’re not just trying to get me super drunk so you can kidnap me, right?” You asked him jokingly, but also slightly worried. After all, what were you doing here in a complete strangers house?

“If I was going to kidnap you I would have done it already, buttercup.” You gulped but shrugged it off after looking at Leon, who smiled at you. Maybe it wouldn't be too bad being kidnapped by him. He's got quite the nice home after all. Leon stopped you in your thoughts as he handed you a glass of wine. "It's really good, trust me. Nothing against your favourite drink, but still very tasty." You took a little sip from the wine and looked at him with big eyes.

"Wow. This is actually really good. I've tasted many different brands of wine but never one like this. You do know your stuff, huh?"

He let out a small laugh which also made you smile. You didn't know if it was the alcohol but you suddenly felt really hot sitting so close to this handsome man. "Anyway, what are you doing besides working at that restaurant? I saw some school books at the bar earlier, were they yours?"

You nodded lightly. "I'm currently studying Art and Design but I needed some money to even afford all that stuff. So that's why I ended up at that restaurant." He looked at you, maybe even a little sad. But maybe you just started imagining things.

"You don't have any family that supports you or anything?"

You shook your head. "That's kind of a difficult topic. My parents aren't really what they used to be after.. well, let's just say some inconveniences." You took another big sip, showing Leon that you didn't wanna talk about it anymore. Even though he wanted to ask, he stopped himself before ruining the whole evening, or well, night. You sighed and looked at him. "On our tour I think we missed the bathroom. Mind showing me the way?" He nodded and led you through the house. As you were in the bathroom Leon went up to his workroom and picked up an envelope. He went downstairs again and hid the filled envelope in one of your jackets' pockets. After a while you rejoined him in the kitchen looking really tired. "Leon, I don't wanna sound rude but I’ve had a long day and I think I really need some sleep. Do you mind calling me a taxi?" He saw just how tired you were so he didn't try to make you stay any longer. He grabbed his phone, called you a taxi and gave you some money for it.

You wanted to decline, but Leon didn't want to argue so you had no chance but to pay with his money. "I brought you here in the first place so the least I can do is pay for your ride home", he said. You both then went to the entrance where Leon helped you put on your jacket. After that you both sat down outside on the stairs waiting for the taxi to arrive. Neither of you said a word, but it wasn't a weird silence, you both really enjoyed each other's company and after a few moments of sitting on the cold stairs a car arrived. Leon brought you to the door and you told the driver your address. You gave Leon a small wave as the taxi began to drive off...

[amysteriousmessenger]

‘Oh, to serve a Princess’ - Ray x Reader NSFW fanfiction

Pairing: Ray x implied female reader CW: Face-riding, fingering, slightly obsessive and a little more confident Ray who just wants to be used Word Count: 4.8k Rating: Explicit

You hadn’t seen Ray in a couple of days, almost a week actually. He said he’d been so busy doing another job for the Saviour that he hadn’t even had time to sleep and had been eating at his desk. He cried on the phone that every time he’d tried to sneak out to come and visit you, a Believer had been waiting outside for him to ask where was going. You missed him, that much was obvious from the ache in your heart, but the punch in your stomach was the worry you had for him. You’d been at Mint Eye for several months, but you had yet to see what tied him so subserviently to the Saviour, besides fear. You’d hoped that he’d at least been eating decently while at his desk, but the various candy bar wrapper sounds you had heard over the phone told you otherwise. You couldn’t help but sigh as you stared out of the window into the night sky. The garden was so beautiful, and you knew how much Ray cherished the flowers growing within it. And yet, it brought you little joy to be enjoying it without him.

Averting your gaze towards the small decorative birdcage that resided in the corner of your room, you couldn’t help but see Ray flash before your eyes again as you touched one of the thin metal bars. Even in the dark lighting of your room, the cage glinted a brilliant gold. You supposed that the cage was just like Magenta. It was so pretty and ornate that, surely, a bird would  want  to fly willingly towards the gilded embrace it to be loved safely from within its bars. A small bird that longed for protection, to live peacefully. However, it was only when that bird flew into the cage that they would realise it was exactly that:  a cage.  You felt sick, wiping your fingers against the fabric of your black dress. You’d previously been wearing the dresses that Ray had brought you but they were being cleaned and he’d told you he’d gotten you a new dress, but you hadn’t seen him since he mentioned it. So, you remained in the Mint Eye standard black dress, it was pretty, so you didn’t mind. You looked back between the cage and the garden and figured that the garden would be the lesser of two evils since you’d at least be able to get some fresh air. You grabbed your phone, ID card, and a light shawl just in case it was cold. You didn’t have many shoes with you, but the ground looked dry enough to just wear some light slip-on shoes.

You looked back at the cage once again before swiftly making your way to the door, pulling it open, and having your heart jump out of your chest immediately. Someone was on the other side. It took a second or two for your eyes to adjust and to realise that it was Ray. He hardly looked like Ray. His under-eyes looked practically bruised, he’d lost more weight and he was swaying slightly. He utterly looked  exhausted.

‘Ray, are you okay?’ You asked, taking in his appearance. He had brought you a bouquet of gorgeous red roses, but you were more concerned about having him get a little bit of colour in his  cheek  than the deep rouge of the petals.

‘Yes! I am fine, please do not worry about me, my sweet flower. Might I come in? I know it’s late… I’ve only just finished my work.’

‘Of course, you can but… Ray, you should get some rest first.’ You replied, very much wanting him to get the sleep that he had been so deprived of.

‘A-ah, yes, of course… I did not mean to be a burden, I just hoped I could see you. I went to pick these flowers before I came here, to make up for not visiting’ His half-gloved hands moved the flowers towards you, a pleading look sneaking onto his face. He knew exactly how to have you putty in his hands.

‘Oh, Ray. You’re not a burden. Come in, please, sit down and eat something. They’re so pretty, you know that red roses are my favo- A-ah! Ow!’ you flinched, pulling your hand back from the roses. You’d pricked your finger on a rose thorn. It was only a small drop of blood and didn’t particularly hurt after the initial sting. It was just a tiny dot of blood but, to Ray, it was as though his love had directly hurt you. You didn’t think it was possible, but the colour seemed to drain from his face even more as you watched the panic strike across his features.

‘My princess, I’m so sorry! This is all my fault, I should have de-thorned the roses! I’m so stupid! Useless! I didn’t think and now  you’re h-hurt!’   Tears began to well in his eyes, and you couldn’t help but think he looked beautiful, even then.

‘It’s okay, Ray! It’s just a little bit of blood, I just need to take the thorn out.’ You tried to console him as he blamed himself.

‘Please, allow me.’ Ray followed you into the room hurriedly, locking the door behind him. He took the roses from you and placed them on your vanity table. He knew his way around your room very well, since he had personally designed it, and retrieved a small first-aid box from your bathroom. You didn’t think he needed to go to such an effort for such a small, insignificant injury, but figured it would probably bring him a little bit of joy to let him care for you after not being able to see you for so long. He guided you towards your bed, as though you were mortally wounded, and sat down next to you as he fumbled through the small box. He set aside a small band-aid, disinfectant spray, tweezers, and cleaning wipe. You felt bad for worrying ray, especially since he’d had such a rough few days, so you wanted to try and lessen his emotional burden by taking the blame.

‘I’m so clumsy, I usually burn my hands a lot.’ You started before laughing and adding ‘Maybe I should get a pair of gloves like yours, so I stop hurting my fingers so much.’

‘My gloves stop me from biting my nails so much. I often don’t realise I’m doing it but sometimes I just get so anxious. My Saviour told me to wear them to stop biting at my nails and to hide them from her sight, she says my hands aren’t pretty to look at. That they’re a sign of my weakness… Maybe, when I get stronger, I’ll be okay without them. I’m sorry, I need to take the thorn out…’ He whispered as he used the tweezers to remove the thin spike from your skin, making the blood form in a little bubble on the surface of your skin. You could feel your heart clenching as you heard Ray speak about his gloves, and part of you wished you hadn’t mentioned it.

‘It’s okay. I like your gloves Ray, they make you look princely.’ You smiled, using your other hand to gently place your hand on his knee. You felt him tense up for a moment before ever-so-slightly moving closer into your touch.

‘Princely? I-I don’t think I’m good enough for that… but, I’d like to be your prince, if you’d let me, princess.’ Ray replied, averting his gaze back to your finger as he delicately wiped at your finger. Clearly, he was no stranger to disinfecting wounds.

‘You look just like a Prince. I was reading earlier, ‘The Happy Prince’ by Oscar Wilde specifically, and when I read about the Prince having sapphires for eyes, I pictured yours.’ You reached your hand up to stroke his cheek softly with the back of your fingers. You didn’t have the heart to tell him how sad the story of ‘The Happy Prince’ was.

‘Ah… I don’t really know what to say.’ Ray focused on cleaning your finger, his face growing warm under your affection. He couldn’t have hidden the light dusting of a blush even if he had tried.

‘Oh, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to embarrass you… Your eyes are just pretty.’ You added, worried that you had somehow made him uncomfortable. It was unlike you to be so upfront with Ray, but you just had a pull, a need, to make sure he knew how precious he truly was. He’d never think it for himself, so you wanted to make sure someone told him, at the very least, that he was cherished.

‘P-pretty? I’ve never considered myself pretty, but I like pretty things, like you, and flowers, and the sky… Will you allow me to do something a little bolder than usual?’ He asked, pulling his icy eyes up to meet your gaze for a moment.

‘Of course.’ You knew he’d never do anything without your consent, and you trusted Ray to always treat you with tenderness, so even his ‘boldness’ was sweet. He took a quick intake of breath before bringing your fingertip up to his lips and placing the softest kiss upon where the small prick of blood had begun to reappear, leaving a tiny dot of red on his lips when they left your flesh.

‘I want to… be a Prince for you. They kiss their beloved’s hands, right? And uhm, they- they kiss their love to break the spell.’ He spoke, looking back at your hand as he cupped it with both of his own.

‘True Love’s first kiss? But we’ve kissed before.’ You added, a little confused. You’d done more than kiss before, you’d been with Ray for a few months and the intimacy had been forthcoming. Ray’s adoration was obsessive and, whilst he struggled to accept it, no amount of physical affection was ever enough. He always craved more from the second it was over. But he was uncertain and shy, so sometimes he didn’t know how to ask for more and would, in turn, suffer until you next bestowed it upon him.

‘I wasn’t a Prince then… I want to look after you and treat you like a Princess.’ He said, wrapping the band-aid around your finger and only released your hand to tidy the first-aid box away. You noticed that he hadn’t wiped the blood from his lips despite there being no way that he wasn’t aware of its presence. It was probably the most colour he had on his face at that moment, even in the dim lighting of your bedroom. Ray was almost ghostly in appearance, and yet, so beautiful. It pained you that he couldn’t see that in himself.

‘Okay, you can be my Prince, Ray.’ You whispered. It took a moment for him to hesitate before he tentatively pressed his lips against yours. You hadn’t seen Ray for so long, you had almost forgotten how much you craved his touch. His lips were cold and chapped, more so than usual because of having not looked after himself properly. There was a small tinge from the metallic taste of blood before it quickly vanished, and you could taste the hint of all the sugary snacks that Ray had been subsisting on in his IT room. He was quicker to deepen the kiss than usual, not that you were complaining, but at some point or another: you needed to stop to breathe. It was painfully obvious by the darkening look in Ray’s eyes that he’d have much rather given you his last breath than to pull apart for just a moment longer because as soon as he could, he was back to steal intoxicating kisses from you. You supposed it was due to the lengthy separation that had made Ray be this needy, almost to the point of  obsessive , but his kisses were like a drunken summer’s evening: warm and yearning. Yearning for the heat he was so constantly deprived of.

This wasn’t your first time together, so Ray knew what you liked. He knew you liked when he kissed down your neck, when his fingertips danced along your bare shoulders, or when you could feel him whispering into your ear. He was always so meticulously focused on pleasing you that always knew what to do even if he didn’t always have the confidence to execute it without coaxing. This was not one of those times. Ray felt this hunger for you each time, but this time, he didn’t feel the same level of uncertainty that he usually did. Perhaps it was the sleep deprivation, or maybe it was having not had his hands on you in almost a week, but at that moment: you were the drug that Ray was the most addicted to. As he kissed along your neck, your hands found their way into his soft, white hair. Without either of you mentioning it, you both fell back onto the bed together, with Ray leaning over you to continue kissing the sensitive skin on your throat. You couldn’t help but let out small gasps and whimpers under his touch, you really had missed him, after all.

‘Ray…’ You half said, half-moaned. You could feel yourself getting turned on, but the rational part of your brain was reminding you that Ray should get some sleep after having worked for such a long period of time. You wanted him to look after himself, even though that clearly wasn’t at the forefront of his own mind in that moment.

‘Yes, my Princess?’ He pulled away from your neck to ask, looking down into your face from above. He was panting slightly, and you didn’t think it was just from the kissing. Like you, he was flushed in the face and his eyes were half-lidded from sheer  hunger.

‘Don’t you think… that you should get some sleep? You were working for so long.’ You said, reaching a hand down from his head to cup his face.

‘D-do you want me to stop?’ Ray asked quickly, a moment of panic flashing that perhaps he had gotten too ahead of himself, that you didn’t want his touch.

‘No, but you’re tired and-’

‘This…is nothing. What kind of Prince doesn’t give his Princess the attention that she deserves, especially after he’s neglected her all week? I-I’ll do anything you ask of me, since it’s you.’ Ray was relieved that it wasn’t him misreading the situation, and you were just concerned for his wellbeing. This wasn’t the lost endurance test he’d had; he could stay awake a little bit longer if it meant getting to be in your company. That much he could manage.

‘A-ah…’ You gasped as he turned to kiss along your bare shoulder. You had missed the sensation of being underneath him like this. His cravat was lightly tickling your chest and you laughed involuntarily. He didn’t take his mouth off of you, but you felt him reach up to his neck with one hand and tug the cravat loose, so it didn’t tickle you as much. He also undid his top button, probably to allow himself to breathe better.

‘H-how do you want me to please you?’ Ray asked, still looking for the confidence to be bolder with verbalising what he wanted to say.

‘Mhm, touch me… Ray.’ You moaned into his ear. You decided that if he really wanted to spend the night with his first moment of freedom, who were you to deny the both of you that enjoyment?

‘Like- like this?’ He asked as he tentatively laid on the bed, half next to you and half on top of you. His gloved hand slowly moved up towards your inner thigh as you parted them to grant him access. Ray’s hand disappeared underneath the hem of your black dress as his fingers found the fabric of your underwear. His confidence seemed to falter for a moment of uncertainty until your own hands found their way into his hair again and you pressed a few butterfly kisses against his sharp jawline.

Usually, Ray took his gloves off to touch you since you wouldn’t actually see his hands in the darkness, but this time he kept them on, primarily because you said that you liked them, and secondly because he wanted to live up to the princely imagery you had described to him. His fingers pressed against you gently, moving in small circular motions up and down the length of you. He’d occasionally vary the pressure depending on which spot he was touching, since he didn’t want to accidentally hurt you. He was teasing you and he didn’t even realise he was doing it. Ray quickly found the spot which made you moan the most. Since he was wearing his gloves, he couldn’t physically feel how turned on you were, so he relied on the mewls you emitted to know that he was doing a good job.

‘More… please.’ You sighed underneath his touch. Ray’s hand found its way into your underwear and you moaned into his mouth as you continued to kiss him, It was safe to say that the situation that definitely gotten heated, but you couldn’t tell from whose face the heat radiated the most, ‘Yeah, just like that…’ You affirmed as his fingers circled around your folds, occasionally teasing at your clit. You briefly wondered why he’d didn’t keep his gloves on for this more often, it felt so good. It carried a certain emotion, being touched with leather gloves, that was making you physically weak at the knees. As much as you enjoyed the feeling of his skin on you, you couldn’t deny that the gloves were definitely doing it for you too. He could feel the slickness of your arousal as his gloved fingers slid along your folds until you were melting against his chest. Ray liked that he was in a position to be able to continuously kiss you as he stroked you, he needed all of you at once. He wanted to be in every single one of your senses, the same way that you were all-encompassing to his. His fingers left you briefly, and you mourned for the sudden lost sensation.

‘My princess, would you mind, uhm, lifting your hips up for me?’ He asked in a husky manner that was almost unlike him. He sounded so needy, you immediately complied and helped him to remove your underwear. While you were there, you also kicked off the slipped that you had put on for your long-forgotten walk into the garden. Once you laid back down, Ray’s obsessive hands soon found their way back to your body.

After another minute or so of circling your clit, his fingers lowered themselves to your entrance. He waited, asking for permission, before slowly entering you with his hand. As always, he was patient with your body, especially after having not touched you for a while. He added one finger at first, moving it slowly to let you adjust, before quickly adding another. You had missed the feeling of having him inside you like this. Ray had to adjust his wrist slightly before he continued to let him curl his finger against you, rubbing along your wall in a ‘come hither’ motion. While you had some lube in your bedside table, you didn’t think there’d be a need for it, since you could feel how turned on you were from the cool air hitting the wetness on your  thighs.  You moaned out affection and affirmations to Ray as he increased his speed as he let you pull him into kisses at will or held his head against your chest. However you wanted to hold him, he’d happily go along with it.

‘It’s so good, Ray- ah, right there!’ You choked as he hit the spot that made you almost see stars. He tried to focus on hitting that spot, again and again, his hand becoming wetter and wetter which each passing tap on your g-spot. You were somewhat embarrassed that you could actually hear the motion of Ray’s fingers moving in and out of you but it just seemed to spur him on more. He really was talented with those fingers.

‘I want... more. I saw something that I want to try. I-I promise I’ll do my best to make it feel good… I don’t quite know how to phrase it. I want to taste you, from above-’ He explained, slightly haphazardly.

‘Are you sure? Won’t I be too heavy?’ You questioned; a little bit uncertain of his request.

‘Of course not. In the video I saw, they used a pillow to support their neck and-’ He started, but you couldn’t help interject with laughter.

‘Ray, were you watching porn?’ It just seemed so out of character for him.

‘No! I mean, technically, yes. It wasn’t mine… I was checking that none of the Believers were trying to look at stuff they shouldn’t be and I… found a video. I thought it looked like you might enjoy it. I found that I… wanted to please you like that.’ His face flushed with embarrassment, even after everything that had just happened, he was suddenly embarrassed that he stumbled across and watched a porn video.

‘We can try it, if you want.’ The embarrassment spread from Ray to you, realising that you were, in fact, going to be sitting on his face. You were a little bit self-conscious about your body, so you said you wanted to keep your dress on, and Ray replied that thought you were beautiful, but he understood body issues and wouldn’t push you since this was already out of your comfort zone. Ray removed his fingers from you again and, with his other hand, he laid a pillow flat on the bed and positioned it so his neck was supported at a slight angle. You were a little nervous about hurting him, but since he wanted to try it, you were willing to give it a try.

You sat up, unsure how to how exactly you were supposed to get on his face without crushing him, but still equally as desperate for stimulation. You lifted your dress up and bunched it at your hips, throwing one leg over Ray’s chest so you were almost straddling him at the next. You waited for him to give the okay to move closer and put yourself in his mouth. You felt his hands steady your thighs as he nudged you close to him, clearly equally as eager to use his mouth on you as you were to have him do it.

Ray started with a few small, sensitive kisses along your folds, earning small shudders from above. You felt a little scared to move, in case you fell and hurt him, so you intended to just let him take his time in what he was doing, he was going you so much attention after all. You felt him stick out his tongue and run it in a line up and down you, your breath hitching in your throat when he grazed it over your clit again and again. And then, almost all at once, Ray pushed your hips into your face, so you were completely on his mouth. It was as though something took over him, a hungry desire that he didn’t verbalise, but you could see burning in his eyes as he took mouthful after mouthful of you, You threw your head back in pleasure and choked out his name in broken moans. You hadn’t expected Ray to be so upfront with wanting to do something like this, and then actually taking control with it.

His gloved hands were on your hips, moving you over his mouth with speed. He was practically  begging  you to use him, to let him make you feel good. Ray wanted nothing more than to be useful to you, especially like this. He  needed  that useless body of his to be good for something, to be good for you. He’d never want for anything ever again if you were to, at the very least, allow him to stay by your side like this. This much he could do. Was it selfish of him to think such a thing? Perhaps. But he decided that, with everything he’d endured in his life, he was allowed to keep that one selfish thought close to his heart. It was a little difficult for him to manage while you were obstructing his view, but Ray undid his trousers and began lightly touching his own erection since it had become uncomfortable to ignore, using your own arousal on his gloves as a lubricant. He was already painfully hard from pleasuring you, but he didn’t need any of the attention to be on him tonight, he wanted to be there just to please you, to  serve  you.

He stroked himself with one hand and continued to guide you over his face with the other. He  particularly  liked it when you found the confidence to grip your hands in his hair and start moving yourself against his tongue, using him in the way he wanted you to. You had already been starting to get close to an orgasm when Ray had had his hands inside of you, so it didn’t take very long for the sensation to start building once again. Personally, Ray didn’t have too much stamina so he had to delay his own orgasm for as long as possible to be able to continue watching the show above him to his utmost benefit. He preferred watching you as you moved against him, and he felt drunk when you made eye contact with him whilst you did it. He was the only one who got to see you like this,  the only one.  He didn’t care what he had to do to keep it that way, he’d be possessive, obsessive, compulsive if needs be to ensure that that would remain the case.

Above, you felt the pressure of an orgasm building quickly under the merciless assault of Ray’s tongue. You could feel that Ray was picking up his own pace and moaning onto you, which felt fucking  great.  He was starting to get close too, which made sense because of how aroused he had been just from touching you. Besides, he definitely hadn’t had any time to release himself all week, he was probably just a bit pent up too.   His lips were pursed over your clit, swapping between kissing it and sucking on it and then using his tongue when you picked up speed in order to let you fuck yourself on it, praises and prayers falling freely from your mouth.

‘Fuc- Ray! I think I’m gonna-’ You didn’t even have a chance to finish your statement before Ray picked up the speed he was moving your hips at, quickly sending you over the edge in his mouth. Did he stop moving you, just because you’d climaxed?  Absolutely not.  Through the blinding pleasure, Ray continued to use his mouth on you until your legs started to twitch from the overstimulation. It was watching you writhe above him, knowing that he’d done such a good job that allowed him to find his own orgasm too, quickly releasing over his hand. He touched himself through his peak, mentally visualising how both of your arousals must look mixed between his fingertips. He closed his eyes, feeling lost in the moment where all of his pent-up frustrations from the last week came crumbling down into a moment of practical peace.

When he was done, you removed yourself from his mouth and collapsed on the bed next to him. You were both panting heavily as you crawled to his side, placing exhausted kisses along his jaw and temple. His hair was a mess from where you’d run your hands through it, but you thought it just made him look cute. You weren’t surprised to see how quickly the exhaustion took over Ray after he caught his breath and you convinced him to take the risk and sleep in your room for the night, since you weren’t entirely certain he’d made it all of the way back to his own room without passing out. You took turns in the bathroom, cleaning yourselves up from the unfolded events of the night, and crawled into bed together.

‘I love you, Ray. I really do.’ You said, embraced in one another’s arms in the darkness.

‘I love you too, my sweet Princess.’ He replied, clearly trying to fight off the sleep to continue talking to you.

You pressed one more kiss into his pale cheek, ‘I wish you’d know how precious you were to me.’ You whispered, but he was already unconscious.

[a-n-conrad]

Dinner With May (PS4!Peter Parker x Reader)

[Summary: After the events of the PS4 Spider-man game, you find yourself and your boyfriend, Peter, having dinner at his aunt’s house. For some reason, Peter seemed even more anxious than usual. It wasn’t until you overheard a conversation between him and his aunt that you figured out why. (She/Her pronouns)

Warnings: PS4 Spider-man spoilers, not canon compliant, marriage/proposals, anxiety

Request: From my request survey (https://forms.gle/LbodcqZ7nxfGbNW96)]

It had been a chaotic month for you and Peter. Peter had been working almost nonstop as Spider-man, having to fight all of his biggest villains along with his mentor and the man that his aunt worked for, two men that he looked up to and trusted. He had been hurt fairly badly at certain points, and you had to patch him up when he did.

Not to mention, at one point Dr. Octavius had released a plague onto New York in an attempt to get revenge against Norman Osborn, and for the few days after that, you were helping Miles Morales and Peter’s Aunt May work to help all the people at the F.E.A.S.T. center that were going there for shelter as the city descended into chaos. By the end of it, May had gotten sick, Peter had broken multiple bones, and you and Miles had been almost killed a few different times. Peter was barely able to save May in time, and the clean-up still wasn’t done, but you guys were finally able to take a day to relax.

May had noticed that the two of you had been working nearly constantly, so she had invited the two of you over for dinner. May was a sweetheart. And she was an amazing cook, too so you were relatively excited to get to sit down for a nice meal with Peter and his aunt.

She was making your favorite, which you had told her a thousand times she didn’t need to do. But she was insistent. At this point, she switched between cooking your favorite meal and Peter’s every time the two of you went over for dinner.

You didn’t get the chance to go over to her house as much as you would like. You were busy enough with your job, and most nights Peter was gone before dinner to go stop crimes throughout the city. So more often than not, you were on your own for dinner, grabbing something quick from a shop that does takeout on your way home from work late in the evening.

But you had taken the day off of work to finally get a chance to relax, and you had insisted that Peter do the same, despite his protests that he was “totally fine” and “couldn’t take a day off”. Eventually, you had to get Miles to promise that he could handle one night on his own and that he would call Peter if anything came up that he needed help with. He was still pretty new to everything, but he could manage the petty crimes on his own.

- - - - -

The sun was already setting by the time the two of you got to May’s house. It had taken you almost an hour to get Peter out of the apartment that you shared, between him needed to call Miles to check-in and him nervously trying to make sure that he remembered everything. He apologized profusely for the entire trip over for making you late, and you spent the entire time trying to convince him that he didn’t need to apologize.

He had finally calmed down a bit by the time you got to his aunt’s house. He was always pretty anxious, especially when he wasn’t in his Spider-man suit, but somehow he seemed extra nervous tonight. You wondered if maybe his mental health had been suffering lately, after everything that had happened. You had to admit that you were starting to get a bit worried about him. You knew he could take care of himself, but sometimes he just didn’t. He had this bad habit of sacrificing his health and safety for the people around him and you were worried that he was doing that again.

So you hoped that dragging him to a nice dinner with his aunt would get him to take a bit of time for himself. She had been trying to get him to take better care of himself for as long as you could remember, so maybe she could do something to help convince him to take a few days to himself every once in a while. You didn’t want to make it seem like you were ganging up on him, but you had almost lost him a few times in the recent past and you weren’t ready for that.

“So which one of us do you think is going to insist on doing dishes after dinner first tonight,” You asked, your tone a bit teasing as you tried to lighten the mood a bit and distract Peter from his anxiety.

“Hmmm,” He pretended to think about it, the way he usually did when you teased him and he decided to play along, “Probably you, since you always seem to beat me to it.”

“Now that’s not true,” You place your hand over your heart in mock offense, like one of the ladies in a Victorian Era period drama, “I let you do the dishes on my birthday.”

He shook his head and chuckled a bit at that, before finally knocking on the door to his aunt’s house.

She opened the door with a smile on her face and the smell of amazing food wafting out of the kitchen. She greeted you each with a hug, letting you into the house like it was your house too. She had tried to convince you that you didn’t need to knock, but you insisted. You got a bit anxious when manners were in question. Maybe your anxiety was part of the reason that you and Peter worked so well together.

“It’s so nice to see you two,” May said as the two of you walked into the house. Her eyes almost started welling up with tears as she looked at you and Peter. Peter had officially revealed his identity as Spider-Man to her in the heat of everything happening and, while she had known the entire time, she had been incredibly worried for his safety with everything that was happening.

“It’s nice to see you too, Aunt May,” Peter almost melted as he walked into the living room. The tension seemed to drain from his shoulders as he looked at his aunt and took in the fact that she was safe, “How are feeling?”

“Just fine, Peter,” She said, her voice kind and reassuring in the way that you knew would calm Peter’s nerves a little, “I’ve been recovering pretty well, and it helps to get a day off to rest.”

You could tell that the last sentence was a little pointed, not in a scolding way, but instead in the way your mom did when she knew you hadn’t had any water all day. With a bit of teasing but mostly with care and concern for your wellbeing. And you could tell that he could hear it too by the slightly sheepish look that crossed his face.

“Well, I’m glad to hear that you’re doing well,” You responded, unable to stop the smile from crossing your face. It was always kind of cute to see him come back home. You got to see him in a lot of different lights, as Peter Parker the scientist, the photographer, the awkward date, and of course, the city’s hero. But despite all of these different personas, you had to say that Peter Parker, the doting nephew was one of your favorites, “Thank you so much for inviting us over.”

“Of course, dear,” She turned to you with the same soft smile on her face, “You know you’re always welcome over, I’m just thankful that you managed to convince my nephew to take enough time off to come to visit me.”

You chuckle a little at that, “Of course, May. You know he’d come visit more if he wasn’t so busy with trying to stop every crime in New York.”

“Oh, I know. And I appreciate you looking out for him, dear.”

- - - - -

Dinner was nice. One of those moments that you wished you could freeze in time. You were warm and your stomach was full and you were smiling the entire time. It was the first time in a long time that you were pretty sure that nothing bad would happen for at least the next hour. You got to be domestic for just a little while, safe and happy and surrounded by the love of your life and his family.

“Alright, I’ll get started on the dishes,” You said when the meal ended, shooting a wink at Peter as you stand. May shot you the same exasperated look that she always did, but let you take her plate. She had given up on trying to stop you a long time ago, realizing that you would insist no matter what she said. Peter just chuckled a bit, remembering your conversation from earlier.

Doing dishes alone in the kitchen was nice sometimes. It was a moment for you to collect yourself. You loved May and Peter, and you didn’t mind spending the whole night with them, but sometimes a few moments of quiet was nice. The smell of the food still wafted around you, and the sound of the water rushing from the sink made you think of a waterfall sometimes, even though doing the dishes wasn’t exactly the most enjoyable chore.

Sometimes, if you focused, you could still hear the conversation that was going on in the dining room. You didn’t intend to eavesdrop or anything, you were just curious. Usually, they’d just alk about F.E.A.S.T. or maybe reminisce about when Peter was a child. It was just nice to listen in a bit on their small talk, getting to know what Peter was like with just his aunt and no one else around.

Today’s conversation was a bit different, though.

“So have you asked her yet, Peter?” You heard Aunt May ask, piquing your interest.

“No, of course not,” Peter sighed, “With everything that’s going on, all of the clean-up throughout the city, there really hasn’t been a good time.”

“I suppose that’s fair, Pete, but you’re going to have to ask eventually. Unless you don’t want to,” You were sure they were talking about you, but you weren’t quite sure exactly what he was planning on asking you. Well, maybe. But you didn’t want to assume. You didn’t want to get your hopes up.

“I do! I really do,” Peter responded, almost outraged at the idea that he didn’t actually want to ask, “I just want it to be perfect. And you know we’re so busy. This is my first day off since everything went down with Mr. Li, so I hardly have time to plan a romantic dinner.”

“Peter, you don’t have to plan out the perfect romantic dinner, I promise.”

“But what if she says no,” He sighed, sounding defeated, “It’s dangerous to be with me. I could put her in danger. And even if I don’t, what’s going to happen when she gets sick of having to take care of me? It’s not easy to deal with me running off all the time and coming back with cuts and broken bones.”

“No, it’s not easy,” May sighed, “But she’s been here for this long. She knows what she’s getting herself into, and she’s stayed this long. Has she ever asked you to stop what you were doing or to choose between her and Spider-man?”

“No, I guess not.”

“Then she’s not going to,” May explained, and you couldn’t help but nod, even though neither of them could see you, “She’s chosen to stay this long. If she was going to leave, she would’ve done it by now.”

There was a silence creeping out of the dining room as the conversation paused. You wondered if he believed it. Because May was right. It was hard, and you worried almost constantly about Peter, but you loved him. You loved him no matter how many dates he skipped out on to go fight crime or how many nights he woke you up at two in the morning to help patch him up after a fight. And you weren’t going anywhere.

The air felt heavy, and you felt your heart tighten a little. You knew Peter was a bit insecure and anxious. You knew that sometimes he didn’t feel good enough, he was overwhelmed and he felt as though the world was on his shoulder. But you had hoped that he knew that you would never think that he wasn’t good enough.

You weren’t quite sure what to do, but you couldn’t let him think like that. Before you could even think of a plan, you were walking into the dining room.

“Oh, uh, hey,” You could tell by the look on Peter’s face that he knew that you had heard their conversation, “How much of that could you hear?”

“All of it.”

All three of you froze for just a moment, before May stood up, “Well, why don’t I go finish the dishes while you two talk.”

“Peter, you know I’m not leaving, right?” You asked, sitting next to him as May walked out of the room.

“I know,” He sighed, “I just… You deserve so much better. I’m kind of a terrible boyfriend, (Y/N). I’m not super reliable, and I know I stress you out.”

“I’m stressed because I care about you, Pete. I love you and you’re constantly putting yourself in danger, but I understand it,” You explained, grabbing his hand on the table, “I love how much you want to help everyone, and I’ll always be here when you need me. I don’t mind if you have to run out on dates, because I know you still care. And you’re not a terrible boyfriend. You’re an incredibly caring person with the world on your shoulders, and you don’t have to do that alone, Pete. I’m right here, and I’m going to stay right here.”

You could see tears welling up in his eyes like he had been waiting for years to hear that. And maybe he had. You squeezed his hand lightly, hoping to reassure him a little. He looked up at you, looking at you like you were the only person in the world. Like if he had to trade the moon and all the stars in the sky to keep you safe, he would. Like you were the only thing that has ever and would ever matter.

“I love you, Pete,” You whispered, hoping it would finally get through to him.

“I love you too,” He replied, you saw his hand slip into his pocket, his fingers nervously fidgeting with something. You could tell he still had something on his mind, and you were pretty sure you knew what it was, but you didn’t want to push him. He’d ask when he was comfortable and you didn’t want to push him before that, “You heard the whole conversation, right?”

“Yes.”

“So, I’m sure you already know what I have to ask,” He sighed, sliding out of the chair and down to one knee, verifying your suspicions, “I wanted this to be more romantic, but, uh, well…”

You nod. You had a feeling he had already rehearsed the speech he was about to give at least twenty times, so you weren’t going to interrupt him, but you wanted to signal that he should keep going.

“(Y/N), I know it’s not easy to be with me. I’m flaky, I stay stupid stuff half the time, and I’d never wish the pressure of dating a superhero on anyone. But through all of this, you’re here, and I wouldn’t have it any other way,” He took a deep breath before continuing, “I don’t know if I could do what I do without you. You make me feel like the weight of everything I do isn’t as much as it is. And you give me something to go home to, somewhere safe and warm. (Y/N), you’re my lifeline through all of this mess, and it would be the greatest honor of my life if you would marry me.”

You’re crying so hard by the end that you don’t even notice the ring he pulls out of his pocket. You’re too busy trying to look him in the eyes through your tears, “Of course I will.”

You dropped down to hug him, and he pulled you as close to him as he could. It was a firm hug, and you could tell he was focusing really hard on not squeezing too tight. So you hugged him tighter. You staying like that for a few moments, soaking his shirt with happy tears, before he pulled back from the hug to grab your hand and slide the ring onto your finger.

“Congratulations,” May interrupted from the doorway, a wide grin on her face and proud tears in her eyes, “Now what do you say we have some cake to celebrate?”

“I think that sounds like a wonderful idea."

[roll-da-credits]

Scenario: Putting Make-Up on Nekoma Boys

Characters: Kozume Kenma, Lev Haiba, Alisa Haiba cause I love her sm omfg

A/n: This was HEAVILY inspired by my desire to look feminine the way guys are just because of a tiktok video. Small warning (?) I literally do not know how to describe doing Lev’s make up, because it just looks so fucking complicated. (also can you imagine how pretty timeskip Lev would look with that makeup look??? Just god, chef’s kiss dude).  Anyways, I hope you guys enjoy my first scenario thing.

Inspo; Kenma’s, Lev’s, Alisa’s

🖤❤️🖤

Kozume Kenma

You knew putting on make-up on your boyfriend wasn’t going to be that difficult. He’s used to sitting on a chair hours on end, being unbothered by anything around him. Getting him to agree to doing it was the difficult part. This mission all started when you as Kenma’s lover got tagged repeatedly in a video where a girl was begging you to do make up on him, to complete the femboy look. Since he already wore a skirt for a tiktok trend once.

After much planning and looking for the perfect time you finally convinced him to put it as a reward for a charity stream he was doing. If the donations got to 100k he would let you put on make up on him.

“I still think this is a bad idea.” He chuckled setting up his stream. You, who was laying on his bed watching him mischievously grinned, “Why not??? 100K is a lot of money, I doubt people would donate that much.”

Oh how wrong you were. Within the first hour the donation already double that number and Kenma could only glare at you for convincing him to do it. You burst in laughter when he looked at you desperately wanting the stream to be over already. “Fine, just don’t put a full face on me.” 

You laughed and introduced yourself to the stream before going to put on his make up. You had decided to do a tiktok look where the guys are feminine the way boys are. By defining his cheekbones, giving him slightly bushier brows, deepening his eyes, and finally a bit of eyeliner. His stream went wild.

Everyone, excluding him, seems to be enjoying the entire process and the end result. His fans even begun donating more and requesting other make up looks to you.

“Babe look, someone want me to use bold colors on you. Can I do it?”

“No.”

You laughed every time he would immediately say no at your request, but you didn’t miss the slight blush that crept to his face every single time. You had a slight hunch that he actually enjoyed being dolled up. A mental reminder made it’s way to your mind to ask him after the stream if he wanted to do it more often. 

You were almost 100% sure he’d say yes. 

“Right take it off.” You ignored him and went back to your position in the background. “Y/n I swear.”

“What you don’t think I did a good job?” You decided to teased him much further. He groaned and turned his chair to face you. “I love you, I really do, but please take it off.”

Giggling, you strode to him and gave him a light peck on his forehead. 

“You look incredible, anyways, don’t you have games to play on your stream? Just take it off after.”

You walked back to the bed with a smug grin feeling like you’d won, until, “200k and I’m forcing them to go against me in any game 1v1. It’ll be funny watching them rage and get embarrassed at how bad they are. ” 

The donation bar was at 190K.

Lev Haiba

Lev was very used to using make up, not full on full faced make up but more of a touch up. He was a model after all. But his make up looks were always to make his already beautiful natural face shine even more. It was never editorial or over the top and you desperately wanted to change that.

“Babe?” You called him when he got home after working. He hummed in reply. “Would you let me put on make up on you?”

Immediately, he jumped over to your side with the biggest smile in his face, he looked like a energetic puppy. “So, yes?” You looked at him with an amused grin. In which he replied to your question nodding enthusiastically. 

Because he came home earlier than he usually do, you decided to do the make up on him right at that moment. That and because he followed you around like a lost puppy for 5 minutes straight whilst you were doing other chores, very expectant about the pretty make up you were going to put on him.

You decided to pick a bright blue eyeshadow that would not only match his dark navy suit he was wearing for a photoshoot, but also his beautiful eyes. After hours of working you were pleasantly surprised that Lev stayed still. Or at least still enough for you to work without a mess. 

He still talked here and there. Not to mention how he would sometimes look at you dead in the eyes with the most love stricken gaze. It flustered you, yet you were determined to finish the look. 

Once you were finally finished, you brought the mirror close to him and he exploded with joy. “Baby you did incredible!!! How did you do this?!?!” he didn’t stop complimenting you or admiring your work, even as you were setting up some lighting for some photos. Because even you had thought it looked too amazing to not be photographed. 

After taking some pics which was easier due to his modelling skills, you had to physically drag him to the bathroom to wash all of it off. He complained and whined to you but you still forced him to clean it, afraid he would get acne if he kept it overnight.

The next day at work though, you got a message from Lev. 

‘CONGRATS!!! You’re my new make up artist now, I won’t take no for an answer  😁’

You spammed him repeatedly asking him what he meant by that but he just left you on read.

Alisa Haiba

You already knew your girlfriend, Alisa Haiba, was a rather hopeless romantic. But you’d never expected it would’ve placed you, her lover, in this kind of situation. Currently you were in front of an already dressed Alisa ready for her shoot and you were expected to put on make up on her. 

“Love, this is too much pressure.” You looked at the array of make up tools Alisa had set up for you in a nervous wreck.

“I know you’re good at make up!! I just wanted to show your skills off to my team!” She smiled rather expectantly at you. 

With eyes like an excited kitten ready to play you couldn’t refuse. 

See it all started when you were experimenting with your own make up. Trying to do random editorial looks and so on. What you didn’t account for was your peeping girlfriend in the door frame watching your every move with sparkles in her eyes.

Her mind raced with the possibilities of the both of you working together in a set, her as your model. To her it seemed like a dream come true and a way to satisfy her imaginative mind when it came to romance. Though, you being in the situation right now, you couldn’t help but feel anxious at the eager gazes of everyone in the room. 

From the make up artists working on the other models, to the photographer. Everyone was waiting for you to make the first move, they wanted to see what Alisa’s chatter was about when she recommended you for a high end brand modeling job.

“Remind me what the theme was again?” You gulped nervously as you started racking your brain for ideas. “Angelic.” She answered.

Finally exhaling the breath you’ve been holding, you picked up a brush and began to work on her eyes. You had seen her looks in all of her modeling gigs, they used a lot of light blue to contrast with her beautiful platinum hair and bright blue eyes. So, you wanted to do something different.

Something that would most likely impress the people around you and hopefully not bring down Alisa’s reputation for recommending you. 

After you were done, you held your breath once more and stepped aside to let Alisa look at the mirror. Shockingly she squealed and jumped to crush you in a hug.

“It’s so pretty!!!” That exact moment you could feel the tension in the entire room drop immediately. 

Everyone was rather impressed by your skills and especially Alisa who begged you to be her MUA for the rest of her career. Which you declined with a wry smile, you didn’t think you could handle the crushing pressure that the stares of everyone in the room would bring every single time. 

[silhouetteofacedar]

Fox Mulder, Closet Romantic Ch. 21: Body Talk

Previous Chapter - AO3 - MSR, rated E

Mulder’s thirty years past kindergarten, but the anticipation he’s feeling in his body is reminiscent of the excitement he felt as a child over bringing his new model airplane to school for show-and-tell. Except the context is very, very different.

He’s got an envelope tucked into the inner pocket of his suit jacket, and he’s highly aware of every crinkle it makes as he strides through the halls, making his way down to the basement.

He’d expected to receive a clean bill of health, so the contents of the envelope weren’t a surprise. Even so… he’s fuckin’ thrilled.

“Morning, Scully,” he says cheerily, waltzing into the office and peeling off his jacket. “Another hot one out there, huh?”

“Mhm,” she responds, already elbow deep in paperwork. She’s always got her nose in some pile of documents, his Scully. God, she’s so cute, it’s unbearable. He thinks of when they first met, how rosy and round her cheeks were. He regrets not having done something earlier; he missed out on kissing her adorable baby face.

He really wants to kiss her now, but they’re at work, and she’s made it abundantly clear that At Work Scully is not open to the physical demonstrations enjoyed by Off Duty Scully. Instead he sidles up beside her, holding out the envelope in front of her.

She takes it, clearly noticing that it’s already been opened. “What’s this?” she asks.

“Just a little something, from me to you,” Mulder replies, going around the desk and plopping into his chair. He clasps his hands behind his head casually, grinning at her as she slides the folded paper out of the envelope.

Scully unfolds the page and scans it, nodding to herself. “Congratulations,” she says, glancing up at him. “This is… welcome news. But you didn’t need to bring me the physical test results, Mulder. Your word is enough.”

“Oh, but I know how much you enjoy solid evidence,” he says with a wink. “So, uh… do you have your results back yet?”

“This is definitely not an office-appropriate conversation,” she warns him, slipping the page back into the envelope.

“Sorry,” he says, lowering his voice. “But…”

“Yes,” she says quietly. “Last week. I’m in the clear.”

He smiles even wider at her. “So, given this new information, what do you suggest we do, Agent Scully?”

She holds the envelope out to him across the desk. “Right now, our jobs.”

He licks his lips, nods. “Of course.”

Ten minutes later, she gets up to put a file in the filing cabinet. As she closes the drawer, she lets out a soft cough.

“Friday,” she says in a low tone. “My place.”

Mulder feels a thrill roll through his stomach. “Now how am I going to get a single thing done around here ’til then?” Mulder asks. “All I can think about is-”

She gives him a warning look.

“-You,” he finishes. “Every moment, Scully.”

Scully gives him a little pout. “I’m sorry, Mulder. That must be very difficult for you. You know what you need?”

“What?”

She picks up a stack of folders out of their in-basket and drops it in front of him on the desk. “A case.”

Mulder doesn’t find them an actual case, but he does manage to annoy Scully with conjecture and conspiracy for two whole days until it’s closing time on Friday night.

This could be the most important romantic encounter of his life, and he wants to make sure he’s adequately prepared. He takes a cold shower when he gets home, scrubbing every inch of his body until his skin tingles. He clips and files his nails, plucks some stray hairs, trims a few scraggly ones down south. He almost shaves his face before deciding to leave it be. He suspects Scully likes a little stubble, after all.

It’s a warm evening, so he throws on a gray t-shirt and jeans and bounds out the door with damp hair and crisp, soap-fresh skin.

As a rule, he doesn’t sing while driving; but today, he’s humming just a little.

He knocks on her door at quarter to seven, bouncing on the balls of his feet, trying to shake out a little anxious energy. This isn’t a prom date, he chides himself. Calm down and be an adult.

The lock is turning and the door is swinging open and there Scully is, looking soft and inviting and dangerous all at once. “Hi,” she says, giving him a little smile.

“Hi,” he says softly, eyes drawn immediately to the low neckline of her simple wrap dress. He snaps his gaze back up to her face again. “Hi, sorry, I’m-”

“A little distracted?” she asks slyly. She opens the door wider. “Come in,” she says, beckoning.

“I, uh, didn’t bring anything,” he says awkwardly, following her into the apartment. “And now that I’m here that feels kinda thoughtless.”

“What would you have brought?” Scully asks.

He shrugs. “Flowers, wine, something that says ‘I want to get laid but I also respect you’,” he says.

“Well, that’s unnecessary,” she says, going into the kitchen and opening her junk drawer. “I already know that.” She pulls out a small stack of takeout menus. “I’m assuming you haven’t had dinner yet?”

I was kind of planning on having you for dinner. “I have not,” he replies.

She hands him the menus. “Pick a place, we can call something in,” she says. She takes a box of matches out of the drawer and walks over to the fireplace.

Mulder glances over the menus, but he’s mostly watching Scully. She seems relaxed and comfortable, lighting a few candles atop the mantlepiece.

“You want a little music?” she asks, blowing out the match.

“Sure,” he replies. “Surprise me.”

“Promise you won’t tease me for this,” she says, flipping through a stack of CDs.

“Any of those restaurants sound appealing?”

“The Italian place sounds good, but I don’t want my garlic breath to put you off,” he admits sheepishly.

She glances over her shoulder at him, giving him a little smile. “That restaurant usually sends a few mints in the bag; and you have a toothbrush here, if it’s that big of a problem.” She puts a CD into the stereo.

“I don’t mind if you don’t,” he says. “You want me to call it in?”

“Sure,” she replies. “You can order me a chopped salad and some of their spinach ravioli. And get garlic bread,” she adds.

When he hangs up the phone, he sees her standing by her stereo, nodding her head in time to the music. The song is slow and sensual, and somehow familiar. He goes to her, places a hand on her lower back. His spot.

“Marvin Gaye?” he guesses.

“Mm, no. Al Green,” she replies.

“Ah,” he says, nodding. “Never took you for a Motown fan, Scully,” Mulder says, pulling her in by the waist. “You always keep me guessing.”

She closes her eyes, sways in his arms. “I save this one for very specific moods,” she admits.

“And what moods are those?” he asks, running a hand up her back.

She opens her eyes. “I’ll show you later,” she whispers.

She’s looking at him with so much heat and adoration, and her lips are so full and soft, he can’t speak; only lean down and kiss her.

They drift together, interlocking shapes moving through space, rearranging patterns of hands and lips.

“We’re going to get interrupted by a delivery guy again,” Scully says against his cheek.

“Mm… kinky,” Mulder whispers, lips brushing her ear. “This is gonna become a pattern for us. Are you an exhibitionist, Scully?”

“Baby steps,” she says, patting his chest as she pulls away. “I need to leave a few mysteries for you to discover later, right?”

They sit cross-legged on the floor next to her coffee table, knees touching companionably as they eat their dinner.

“You know,” Scully says around a bite of garlic bread, “This makes me think we should go on another picnic. Since the weather is more appropriate.”

“What, sitting on the frozen ground at night in February wasn’t your idea of a good time?” Mulder jokes, tangling his fork in linguini.

“I didn’t say that,” Scully points out. “In fact, that was one of my better birthdays in recent years.”

“Really,” Mulder says, surprised. “Why?”

She absently toys with a hole in his sock. “Because… because I’d had a rough year,” she explains, “And you put thought and care into doing something special for me. And it was perfect, in all its perceived imperfections. It made me feel that for once… you were finally paying attention. You saw me.”

“Saw you?” he asks softly, turning his head to look at her.

Her eyes shine into his. “Yes. You were there for me through my cancer, with Emily… you were becoming more attentive. And I felt like you were considering me, caring for me, knowing what I needed. Seeing.”

“I-I think that’s called love, Scully,” he says, chewing pensively. Part of him is surprised this is even happening; them sitting on the floor in her apartment, eating pasta out of styrofoam boxes, talking about their feelings. Hell, he just said the ‘L’ word without breaking a sweat.

“You’re right,” she says, leaning over and resting her head on his shoulder. “It is.”

Supper completed, containers emptied, candles burning down to stubs on the mantle, Scully sitting across his thighs as they kiss slowly. She was right about the mints, it turns out.

“Mulder, I’m a coward,” she sighs, running her fingers down his jaw. “I’ve been in love with you for years and I still haven’t said the words.” She presses a kiss to his lower lip. “Even though I know you reciprocate.”

“Take your time,” he replies, carding his fingers through the hair at the nape of her neck. “I already know. And you technically did just say them,” he adds. “Besides, there’s more than one way to have a conversation.” He smoothes a hand over her kneecap, inching a finger beneath the hem of her dress.

“Mulder,” she murmurs into his neck, his name sweet in her mouth. “I’m ready. I want to be with you tonight. Completely.”

He can feel his pulse throbbing beneath her lips. “I… God, Scully, I want you so badly,” he sighs. “I can’t think of any other words. I'm all out.”

She kisses his nose, untangles herself from him to stand. “Come on,” she says softly, holding out a hand. “I think it’s time for a different kind of conversation.”