#i want to tell our dishwasher that shes doing a good job and i appreciate her work and wish the kitchen was more thoughtful abt her work | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

shokobuns · 4 years ago

Text

“𝐥𝐮𝐬𝐭”

in which you slowly give into your desires.

PAIRING: maid!zenin maki x f!housewife!reader

GENRE: smut, some fluff, some angst, slowburn (ish)

WORD COUNT: 5.6k

WARNINGS: nsfw, 16+ smut, slowburn ish?, mentioned misogyny, infidelity, unhappy arranged marriage, angsty marriage, overstimulation, fingering, oral (f receiving), kitchen sex, sex in shared bed, face sitting/riding, 69, exhibitionism, squirting, light degradation, praise, pussy slapping, finger sucking, spit kink, consensual panty stealing, masturbation (f), first time for oral, slight corruption, implied dumbification, dom!maki. slight mommy kink, humiliation (kind of)

“I love you.”

“Love you, too, Honey.”

You peck your husband on the lips goodbye before he’s out the door with a briefcase in hand and his suit as neat as ever. Staring at the leftovers, you sigh before eventually picking up the plates and pilling them in the sink, scrubbing off the sticky mess of maple syrup. Soap suds cover up your gloves as you lather them in bubbly water and plan out the rest of your day. The dishes, the laundry, a few episodes of that one show you barely pay attention to, lunch, more dishes, more laundry, a start on dinner.

You can’t help but wonder — Is this it?

You love your husband, something you remind yourself repeatedly when he’s gobbling down on the rice on his dinner plate and when he’s leaving his dirty clothes all over your bedroom floor. You love him. You want to bear his children, want to raise them, want to do the chores so that he doesn’t. You want to cook, to clean, to do everything for the sake of his pleasure. It’s what your mother insisted, it’s what she did, and it’s what her mother did. You love your husband.

Is this it?

Twenty years old, a husband with a stable living, something that can suffice for the rest of your life. All you need is to do your chores, give him your body, be his prim and proper wife. It sounds fairly easy, another thing that your mother insisted, so what is it?

Why do you crave more? Why do you have to remind yourself that you love him, love this life at all?

Your thoughts are interrupted by a knock on your door. When you open it, you’re met with the sight of a tall girl with glasses. She’s in a black maid dress that stops at her knees, complemented by the white apron that flows along with the part of the skirt, ruffling at the end. She has a bag hanging on her shoulder and her expression shows slight amusement at your surprise. Surely, she’s at the wrong house, right?

“Are you (Y/N)?”

“Y-Yes,” you stutter out, not realizing that you were staring, “Uh, w-who are you?”

“I’m Zenin Maki, but you can call me Maki,” she observes your figure, noticing the sly nervousness radiating off of your expression, “Your husband hired me. Said he wanted someone to help you out.”

“O-Oh.”

“May I come in?”

“Of course.” You move to the side, watching the woman scan your house. It’s slightly messy, a result of your husband not cleaning up after lounging in the living room, and she doesn’t waste time to clean it up, rearranging the decorative pillows and helping you carry the leftover dishes to the sink. Just as you’re about to put on your gloves, her hand comes out to grab your wrist and the other takes it out of your hand. “Don’t. I got this.”

You step back, watching Maki put on the gloves herself, lathering the dishes as you did before. You don’t know what to do, standing there awkwardly as she places them in the dishwasher. It’s a given opportunity to observe how her skirt stops right above her knee, flowing out naturally and modestly accentuating her body. Her headband compliments the look, her hair tied back with bangs covering up her forehead, stopping short of her glasses. Warmth creeps up your neck to your cheeks and you sharply look away, focusing your vision on the bowl of apples on the center of the dining table.

“You can rest, Miss. But I’m going to need help putting away the dishes later. Is that okay?” She asks and you turn around to give her a nod. “Is there anything else you need done?”

“Oh, no, it’s okay, you really don’t need to-”

“I was hired to help you out with chores. Please, do not worry about me.”

You sigh in defeat, looking directly at her face, her pretty face. She had a sharp expression, piercing eyes that can bore into your soul, defined cheekbones. A sensation of uneasiness rested in your lower belly and you realize you’re staring when she waves a hand over your face. “Hello? Miss?”

“S-Sorry! I was just thinking about something!”

“Oh. Well, I was just asking if you can help me put some of the dishes away just for today. I don’t know where everything is and I don’t like disorganization.”

“Of course. Of course.”

“You need anything else?”

“Folding the laundry, for now, I think? The clothes should be dry. Everything is upstairs.”

She follows behind you as you bring her out to the terrace where your laundry hangs on a string. Dresses, button ups, and ties of earth toned colors adorn the area and you touch the fabrics. The sun had definitely done its job. Maki is already setting up the ironing board that was previously laying in the corner of your bedroom and gathering your husband’s work attire together. When she’s done flattening the creases on the pieces of clothing, you take them, hanging and folding. With her help, you were finished in half the time it usually took you.

“Thank you, Maki. Really, I appreciate it.”

“You don’t need to thank me, Miss. Your husband hired me to do my job and I am happy to help.”

As you hang your last dress, you give her a smile.

—

“Honey, I’m home!”

Your husband’s voice sounds throughout the house as he’s met with the sight of you and Maki laying out plating foods and placing them on the dinner table. He smiles and you walk towards him to greet him with a hug and a kiss. Maki continues with the task, sparing a glance at the both of you. “You didn’t tell me you hired a maid,” you whisper to your husband, “Though, she has been very helpful.”

“I’m glad, Honey.” He replies, pressing a kiss to your temple.

“Kind of curious as to why you hired one in the first place.”

“I’ll tell you later. Let’s have dinner, alright?” He shoots you a grin before looking over to Maki. “Feel free to stay for dinner, Maki!”

“I’m alright. I should get going anyways—”

“Nonsense!” You husband eagerly responds, pulling out an extra chair just for her, “My dear wife here says you’ve been helpful.”

“I have classes.”

“Oh. Well you might as well take some home!” You suggest, walking over to your tupperware cabinet.

Before you go back to your husband, you plate some food for her to take home and make sure she makes it back to her car as she walks out the door. You let out an involuntary sigh, leaning against the doorway and feeling content that you now have an extra hand.

“So?”

“So, what?”

“Why do we need a maid?”

“Simple,” he grabs your hands from across the table, “I think we’re ready.”

“Ready for what?”

“Ready to have kids, silly woman!” His laughter booms throughout the entire room, “I mean you’ll have to get off birth control and everything, but I think it’s time.”

You laugh nervously as he leans in for a kiss. “Honey, don’t take this the wrong way, but I don’t know about this.”

“What?” He stands up, his eyebrows furrowed together in confusion, “Why not?”

“I’m just kind of, uh, scared? I don’t know if I’m ready and we just got married a few months ago, you know?”

“Come on, don’t be scared,” he reassures you, kissing your cheek, “I hired Maki to be our maid to lay the stress off of you. I offered her an in-house job, which she’ll be starting next week, just so that you could rest easy while you’re pregnant.”

“In-house? Is she going to live with us?”

“Of course! She’s a college student, so she doesn’t mind getting paid and living in a house,” he explains before going back to the topic, “So please. I want you to have our baby. We can start tonight.” He suggests, wiggling his eyebrows.

“O-Okay.”

—

The next few days, the cycle continues.

Maki comes in the morning, usually just about right before your husband leaves for work, and she helps you throughout the day. Doing dishes, folding clothes, cleaning the bathroom. Most of the time you help her, usually against her will, but it leads to a calm and comforting silence when you work together. She’s moving in soon, two days to be exact, and you think it’s time to get to know a little bit about her.

One problem; She’s reserved, which intimidates you, and you’re too scared to start a conversation.

Eventually, you’re going to have to break the ice. So you do it as she’s ironing the clothes and you’re putting them away. You think up a few basic questions, mulling them over as to not make her uncomfortable because you want to get to know her.

“My husband tells me you’re in university right now. What’s your major?”

“Sports science.” She replies bluntly, continuing her task.

“Oh, cool cool,” you try to figure out a way to continue, but come up blank. Maybe she doesn’t want to talk.

“What do you do when your husband is not around?” She asks curiously, as if she sensed your desire to hold the conversation.

“Chores, usually,” you frown, “Sometimes I watch TV, but I wish I was able to do other stuff. I really like painting, too. But I haven’t done much of that ever since we got married.”

“Oh. Why not?”

“Well, I’ve always wanted to become an artist. I’ve been doing it since I was a kid, but my family wanted stability for me so they introduced me to a family friend’s older son,” you smile, memories of your younger self filling up your head before a sense of sadness falls over your expression, “They said this would be good for me. And it is. My husband is a good man, I have a roof over my head and dinner on the table everyday, you know. I’m not complaining,” you pause, reeling out of your own thoughts, “Sorry if I just overshared.”

“No, don’t worry about it,” she reassures you, “Just out of curiosity, how old are you?”

“Twenty.”

“That’s funny, I’m twenty one.”

“You’re closer to my age than my husband,” you laugh, folding another white button up before placing it in a drawer, “We are in very different positions.”

“Yes, we are,” she chuckles, “A struggling college student and a cool housewife.”

“Well, I wouldn’t say cool—”

“Nonsense!” She grumbles, an attempt to mock your husband.

“Nonsense!”

The both of you laugh and you realize how she seems almost angelic. The look in her eyes that was once piercing and intimidating was soft and heavenly. Her cheeks are flushed red and her smile was alluring. Before you even realize it, a feeling of warmth settles in your lower belly and it gets harder and harder to take your eyes off of her. Her chuckle was music to your ears and you’ve internally decided that it was one of your favorite sounds.

—

“Goodnight, Honey.”

He plants a kiss on your sweaty forehead before turning his back towards you, opting to hug a pillow on the side instead. Everything is wet, sticky, and gross, but before you can say anything, your husband is already fast asleep, little snores filling the air of the master bedroom. You lay down for a few minutes, staring at the ceiling in the dark until you gather up the last of your willpower to get up and clean the mess between your legs.

It was an okay night.

Sure, you came, but it was just boring. There was nothing to it, only the huffs and groans and praises from your husband as he lived out his fantasy of finally being able to breed you. You’re happy to provide him, as long as it makes him happy, because he loves you and you love him. Even if you have to clean up the mess yourself, even if you don’t finish, even if that rush of loving emotion that everyone seems to describe never hits you.

You’re happy.

That’s what you tell yourself anyways. Yet, your fingers rub furiously on your clit while the other pumps in and out of your dripping cunt. You’re close and you pretend that it’s her fingers You pretend that it’s her fingers that you’re clenching around, her mouth leaving soft kisses from your neck down to your exposed breasts. You pretend that you’re tugging on dark hair, asking for more, but when you come down from your high, the ringing in your ears stops suddenly and the snores overtake your hearing once again.

Maki.

It’s wrong, disgustingly wrong, but there’s no way to escape her. Not when she’s in your house in the morning, the afternoon, and the evening. She helps with everything, things that you didn’t even consider yourself, talks to you about the things you like. And you know that her favorite color is black, her family would have much rather preferred if she went the same route you did, and she likes junk food a little too much.

You also wonder when you should tell your husband that you definitely have not gone off those pills.

—

“Miss?”

“Yes?” You respond, a grocery bag in your arms filled with different fruits, vegetables, and meat. Although you've made a few additions to your list and you were unsure at first, but as Maki empties it, her eyes light up at the sight of the bright little bag.

“You got chips?”

“Well, yeah. They’re for you. I know you liked them.”

She beams at you and it’s almost blinding. There’s an odd flutter in your stomach and you ignore it, but it only becomes stronger when she rips open the bag and munches on the whole thing in seconds. The small satisfied moan from the first bite has you internally celebrating. She looks at peace. All she’s doing is eating a bag of her favorite chips, yet it fills you with some unexplainable feeling of warmth. You make another mental note to buy even more next time.

—

“What do you think of him?”

“Who?” She asks, sitting up on the couch as she watches you get lost on the canvas in front of you.

“My husband.”

“Oh,” she pauses, her hand coming from under her chin to think, “He’s pretty cool, I guess. He also pays me which is pretty cool, you know.”

“Come on, I won’t tell him,” you insist, coming close, your hands involuntarily brushing over hers. She doesn’t pull them away, letting you rest them, enjoying the extra warmth.

“I mean, he’s a man, alright.”

“What does that even mean?”

“No offense,” she continues, finding the least rudest way to say it, “He’s kind of basic, you know? Which isn’t bad but he yells at the TV when watching football, has you light his cigarettes, and waits for you to serve him food. Just your typical husband things, I guess.”

“Are you saying my husband is boring?” You ask with a stoic face, watching the fear fill her eyes.

“No, no! That’s not what I—”

“Kidding,” you chuckle as she purses her lips before joining along, “I was just curious.”

“Well, why?”

“I don’t know,” you say, sighing as you think of all the times he did anything romantic for you, “He’s a good man, you know that, right?”

“Well, of course.”

“He brings me flowers, gives me goodnight kisses, tells me he loves me, but—” you pause, afraid to finish the thought. Your heart pounds at the mess of ideas on your mind and you’re ashamed, “I don’t know if I feel that love thing those people always talk about.”

“What do you mean?”

She’s intrigued to say the least. You’re fiddling your thumbs with a nervous smile on your face. All the while, the music you put on fades in the background until it’s only the two of you, hearts beating fast, blood rushing to your cheeks. When you finally look her in the eye, she doesn’t miss how glassy they look and that’s when her suspicions are confirmed without a verbal sentence — you’re unsure.

“He- Well, I don’t know. Forget I said anything about it,” you clasp your hands together before getting back to work in the kitchen, “And please, don’t tell him.”

Uncertainty, you’re most definitely full of it, but Maki is almost sure she’s figured it out before you have and she likes to think that she’s gotten to know you. She’s picked up how you play with your fingers when you’re unsure, how you smooth down your dress when you try to keep your composure, how that your smile loses genuinity while you’re at the dinner table. She decides it’s not her business, she’s only the housemaid and you’re just the housewife she works under.

But she’ll always be there for you with open arms if you need it.

—

“We gotta make breakfast, Maki.” You poke her side, waking her up from a deep sleep.

You’re already ready for the day, the top half of your hair already tied in a bun and a lilac colored dress adorning your figure. She’s caught off guard when she opens her eyes and you’re sitting up on the side of the bed poking at her hip. Her vision is blurry without her glasses, but she can clearly smell the sweet scent of vanilla perfume. Taking in a deep breath, she sits up, too, reaching for her glasses on the bedside table.

And her sleek, black hair cascades down her shoulders, though it’s slightly messy, you’re tempted to run your fingers through the soft looking strands. You’ve seen Maki in her maid uniform at home, jeans when she goes out to shop, but the sight of her in a satin night dress was different and your breath hitches when the blanket falls off the upper half of her body. It’s a loose fit and she looks absolutely ethereal, almost like an angel.

She turns her head to the side and you fake cough, trying to make up for staring a little too long. “I know your day doesn’t start yet, but I was hoping to get some help on breakfast today. Is that alright with you?”

“Of course, Miss. I’ll go get ready right now.

“Cool.”

You walk down to the kitchen, preparing a pie crust for your quiche and reading through the recipe you were given by a friend. By the time you blind bake the crust, Maki joins you in her usual attire. “Need anything, Miss?”

“While the quiche is baking, I just need you to make some cookie dough. Just the usual, my family is coming over later.”

“Of course.”

She gets to work right away, finding the ingredients immediately as you fill up your empty pie crust and dance around the kitchen. Right after the quiche is placed in the oven, your hips sway along with the music that plays in the radio. It’s all soft and slow, Maki smiling at your antics while you jokingly attempt to serenade her. She’s mixing in the chocolate chips into the dough and you walk forward, energetic and lost in the song.

You don’t think much of it when you grab her hip and your faces come closer together. One second, you were playfully dancing around your kitchen and the next, your breaths mingle, the gap between the two of you closing. It’s her who decides to lean forward, soft lips meeting together, your back suddenly meeting the edge of the counter. Her hands rest on the surface, each on either side of you, and her lips taste like cherries. Your hands come up to her cheeks as your mouths meld together until it’s hard to breathe.

You pull away first, remembering that your husband is still sleeping upstairs. “What are we doing?”

“Don’t know,” she replies, her hand starting to trail under the skirt of your dress, “It feels right, though.”

“Should we stop?” You mutter, just barely enough for her to hear.

“Do you want to?”

“No.”

It gives her the extra rush of courage to get under your dress and push your body until your back is flat on the counter. Luckily, there was nothing underneath except for a pair of plain black panties, a damp spot right in the middle. Her thumb presses on your clothed clit and by the way your body squirms she knows you’re sensitive which only adds to the sadistic fun of pulling down your underwear at an agonizingly slow pace. “Need you,” you breathe out, your legs being positioned on her shoulders, “I need you, please.”

“I got you, Baby. Don’t worry.” She replies with a smile, her breath hitting your wet cunt.

Your breath hitches as her tongue trails up from your hole up to your sensitive pearl and she moans at the sweet taste of your arousal. Her hands keep a firm grip on your thighs, holding them open as you bite your lip to contain your moans. He’s right upstairs, you think, but any thought of caution starts to leave you once her soft lips wrap around your clit, sucking on the bundle of nerves causing your knuckles to turn white as they grab onto the edge of the counter.

Your husband has never touched you like this. Ever.

The feeling of her mouth is foreign, but welcome. Before you know it, the grip on one of your thighs loosen and two fingers slip into your soaked cunt. She’s gentle at first, the pumps of her digits ever so delicately pressing against your g spot, but once you hike up the skirt of your dress and thread your fingers through her hair, she speeds up, hitting hard and fast. “M-Maki— Shit!”

You squeal when her tongue starts massaging your clit and your walls clench despite being empty, “Such a pretty girl,” she coos, watching in awe at how your slick coats her fingers, “Such a pretty pussy.”

Lewd praises and squelches fill the kitchen air as the coil in your stomach builds and snaps until your cunt is gushing all over her. Your back arches as you reach your high and she leaves a trail of kisses from your thigh to your sopping pussy. Bringing her fingers to your mouth, she gives you one command.

“Suck.”

You obey, wrapping your soft lips around her digits, swirling your tongue and she gives a graceful smile, brushing a thumb over your flushed cheeks. A sheen of sweat covers your forehead, but the sound of footsteps brings you out of your thoughts. Maki pockets your underwear, giving you a wink, before washing her hands and taking the nearly forgotten quiche out of the oven.

By the time you hear the footsteps of your husband, you’re decent, minimal signs of physical exertion just barely noticeable. She’s going through her usual routine of plating your food in front of the two of you, doing the dishes, laundry, everything. You want to say something, you really do, and you’re left with your own questions.

At night, you’re left pondering the strong women with silky black hair whilst in the arms of your husband.

—

Two days.

That’s how long it’s been since you’ve gotten the most mind blowing orgasm of your life. Your panties are still missing, though you don’t mind knowing who has them. And when you think about the things your mother has told you repeatedly about your perfectly structured life, it crumbles with each second. When you look at the face next to you, the indifference in your heart starts to become more and more prominent.

And even though you should feel guilty — well, you do — you also don’t regret it at all.

You still do your chores as expected, make the bed, cook dinner. You still organize the laundry, do the dishes, and tend to your rose garden. You still disinfect, fold, and have sex with your husband who’s indifferent to your pleasure every night. Almost every domestic activity was accompanied by Maki, who often sought to take over or help.

Yet, she wouldn’t even look at you.

She wouldn’t say anything that didn’t pertain to a grocery list or a command and it was infuriating. Still, you were determined to bring it up — how could you not? As you fold blankets on the couch and think, you call out her name. “Maki?”

“Yes, Miss?”

“Are we going to talk about what happened?”

“What do you mean?”

Your heart drops a tiny bit, it was an expected response based on the fact it felt like she was avoiding you, but you still had to swallow the lump in your throat. “Nevermind. I’m sorry.”

“Why are you apologizing?” She asks as you’re looking down on the rug, trying to focus on the pattern instead of the woman in front of you.

“I’m just sorry I brought it up. I’m sorry that I made you uncomfortable. I’m sorry that we did whatever that was,” you take a deep breath as forming tears blurred your vision, “I’m sorry that I can’t fucking do this, Maki. I don’t love him. I can’t love him.”

She sighs, scooching forward and closer to you then pulling the half folded blanket from your hands. “You shouldn’t be sorry. This was my fault.”

“You don’t understand.”

“Try me.”

“You’re just, I’m just—” you inhale again, trying to find the right words to say, “You’re different. You’re different from him in all the best ways. You listen to what I have to say, you care about how I feel.”

“That’s something that any good friend would do—”

“I don’t want to be your friend.”

“Oh.”

She brings her fingers to your chin, nudging your head up until you’re looking her in the eyes for the first time in days. She gazes at you, appreciating every curve and every mark on your skin. You take this as an opportunity to lean in, planting a soft kiss on her lips. She doesn’t stop it, instead indulging in the act, cupping your cheeks.

It soon becomes hungry, her tongue slipping past your lips, you being rolled over onto your back as she slips her hand under your floral dress. She presses a finger against your clothed cunt, causing you to gasp and throw your head back. At the same time she leaves sloppy kisses on the exposed skin of your neck and you struggle to form a coherent sentence.

“M-Maki, stop,” you whimper and she pauses, “Wanna make you feel good.”

“Oh?” She smirks, giving you another breathless kiss, “Wanna put that mouth to use, Baby?”

“Yeah,” you breath out, “Wanna make you feel good, Mommy.”

Her expression is filled with pride as she drags her fingers across your face and into your mouth. You comply with the silent command, wrapping your lips around the digits and sucking softly, swirling your tongue around them. “Good girl.”

You let out a hum while she discards her panties somewhere on the ground and her bare cunt hovers over your face. It’s intimidating, yet the sight of her glistening folds makes you wet. All you wanted to do was taste her, drink up all of her juices, and when you finally do you can’t get enough. Despite the lack of experience, you do what you think would feel good, giving experimental licks, noting when her body twitched and when she would let out a saccharine moan.

“Fuck — you’re doing so well,” she coos, carding her fingers through your hair, admiring the sight of your half lidded eyes and the feel of your tongue, “You sure this is your first time eating pussy?”

You hum in response which sends vibrations throughout her body, causing her to throw her head back. You grip onto her lower back, desperately bringing her wet cunny closer to yourself and she rolls her hips, grinding herself on your mouth. You’re already addicted, lapping at all of the cum she has to offer, watching intently as her mouth forms an o shape and she soaks the lower half of your face.

“Such a good fucking girl, aren’t you?”

She gets off your face and you smile with pride, tugging off the rest of her maid uniform until she’s completely bare in your living room. Every curve of her body fills you with even more lust and you’re sure your panties are soaked just from the sight. Her thighs are defined, muscular even, and you kiss them before going back to her ruined pussy, lapping at all the slick.

“You’re so pretty, Maki,” you utter, your breath hitting her neck as you come back up to her face.

She pushes you backward until you’re flat on your back, pinning your wrists together before ripping off your panties. Maki wastes no time, two fingers entering your hole and curling with every thrust. “You got this wet from eating me out?” She questions cockily, leaving an open mouthed kiss on the shell of your ear along with a nibble, “You’re a cute little thing, aren’t you?”

“Yeah,” you whimper in between breaths, “Feels s’good.”

“Yeah?” She responds, watching you come undone underneath her.

Your orgasm builds up with every pump, the coil in your stomach tightening. She fastens the pace, every movement being calculated, her fingers knuckles deep in your cunt. Her fingertips manage to brutally hit the spongy spot inside of you, causing your legs to shake. Your back arches when her lips wrap around your clit, the simultaneous stimulation making your body tremble in delight. You’re gushing all over her fingers and she stares in awe as your slick drips down your thighs.

“Can we go to the bedroom?” You request meekly, barely recovering from your last orgasm.

“Of course, Baby,” she beams at you, body gleaming with a sheen of sweat, your heart fluttering in your chest.

Maki picks you up bridal style with almost no effort, pressing kisses all over your face on the way upstairs. When you finally get to the bedroom, she lays you down gently, almost as if you were a delicate piece of glass. But the moment of soft intimacy doesn’t last.

It doesn’t last when her pussy hovers over your face with her head buried in between your legs, licking hot stripes on your folds, sucking on your pearl while her fingers brush on your legs before finding their way back to your ruined cunt. Your tongue presses on her slit and her hips lower until your mouth is full of pussy. Her sweet taste is addicting and concurrent moans only heighten the pleasure, vibrations shooting through both of your bodies. Her thumb circles your clit furiously as she pulls away from your cunt to speak.

“You like this, don’t you? Ain’t this the same bed where you get fucked by your husband?” She questions demandingly, slapping your cunny.

You whine into her cunt, the sudden pain causing your walls to clamp around nothing. She laughs sadistically, pinching your clit, biting at your inner thighs.

“S’good, such a good little slut,” she coos, her nose tickling your clit as her face inches closer, “Bet you like getting fucked by your maid, don’t you?”

You can only respond with a squeal, her hand laying another blow to your aching pussy. “Don’t worry, pretty girl. I got you.” She reassures you, mouth ravaging your cunt, slurping every drop of cum you had to offer. She’s close to her own orgasm, you can tell by the way she rides your face, soaking the lower half until the sweet droplets slide down your neck. You massage her clit with your tongue as she comes down from her high, but after yours, she doesn’t stop.

Instead, she continues to feast on your cunt like a starved woman, the pressure in your stomach building for the nth time that day. Coming again almost hurts, but she ignores the high pitched wails spilling from your lips, the sounds only encouraging her to keep sucking until your body trembles. At this point, you’re light headed, vision gradually becoming blurry. Your walls are pulsating, your mind is unable to process everything at once.

Especially the shocked man who stands in the doorway of your bedroom.

And at that exact moment, you let out a sob as Maki sadistically looks your husband right in the eye, her mouth still devouring your overstimulated cunny with fervor. Your hole leaks milky white, staining your shared sheets and you cry out her name, hopelessly gripping onto the plush of her ass for stability, digging your nails into the flesh. When she pulls away, a string of spit connects from her mouth to your pearl and her pupils are blown, cheeks covered with your arousal, all the while maintaining eye contact with him.

As if there was no one in the room, she readjusts her until her face hovers over yours, her swollen pussy present on your thigh.

“Open.”

You comply readily and she grabs your face with one hand, squishing your wet cheeks so hard that they start to ache.

“Good girl.”

She spews into your mouth, watching the blob as it glides down your tongue and you swallow obediently before she comes down for a sweet kiss. The taste of yourself makes your head dizzy with lust. Let it be known that the horrified figure standing in the doorway could never make you feel as good as the maid.

Oops.

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boldlyvoid · 4 years ago

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Amoreena | Chapter Eighteen

Amoreena Chapter Eighteen

main summary: Heaven is a real place and it's located exactly 14.6 miles away from the FBI, Quantico Headquarters. Off behind a small park, under a fantastical willow tree surrounded by wildflowers, in every colour young minds can imagine.

Don't forget, heaven also comes with angels.

Chapter Warnings: hospital visits, fainting, IV's and ultrasounds!

word count: 5k

from the beginning <3

Y/N heads off to work at 8 on Wednesday, sick and miserable but it's her job. Leaving Spencer with the girls. “So, what are our plans for today?”

“We need to pick up some paint samples so we can pick for my room,” Jo replies, shovelling waffles into her mouth right after with syrup dripping down her chin.

Spencer passes her a napkin with a smile, “do you guys want to go visit my friend Penelope? She’s really good with aesthetics, as she calls them, she’ll be able to help the best.”

“She’s the one you told me about?”

Spencer nods, “yeah, I’m just going to call and see if she’s free today. Put your dishes in the dishwasher after, your mom doesn’t need to come home from work to do the sticky dishes okay?”

“Yes sir,” they both groan, jokingly, smiling at each other as they do so.

He runs up to his bedroom then, sitting on his side of the bed and taking his phone out of his pocket. He dials Luke’s number instead, knowing she’d kill him if she’s still asleep while he’s calling her.

“Hey man!” Luke answers, cheerful and very awake. “How’s the new kid?”

“Jo’s great, she’s settling in really well,” He smiles, news travelled fast in the BAU, “I actually want to introduce her to Penelope, is she awake and willing to take visitors this early?”

“Um,” he can hear Luke’s panic through the phone, “you know, here she’s beside me, she can tell you.”

“Hello, Spencer,” Penelope’s voice carries down the line and invoking a smile on Spencer’s face. “What’s up?”

“I wanted to introduce you to Josephine today, are you busy?”

“We have a doctor's appointment to go to in 10 minutes, but we’ll be home around 10:30?”

His brain stalls, malfunctioning a small amount at why Luke would be going to the doctors with Penelope. “You can’t be pregnant too, me you and Derek can’t all have kids the same age.”

“Savannah’s pregnant too?!” Penelope screams down the line, “holy shit.”

“Penelope!” Spencer shouts, “are you kidding me?”

“No, we were going to tell you soon, when you made that wine comment a few weeks ago I knew she was pregnant because I am too,” Penelope’s voice is so soft he knows she’s smiling on the other side.

She always wanted kids, that’s why she spoiled Henry and Hank so much, they were like her honorary babies until she was in the right place to have kids of her own. She has told Spencer time and time again how much she wants a family, how badly she wanted one but couldn’t find the perfect partner… then she met Luke.

“Put Luke back on,” Spencer sounds sterner than he means to, Penelope puts him on speaker instead.

“Are we going to have the father-to-son chat?” Luke teases him through the phone.

“I just wanted to thank you, this is going to be a really cool experience,” Spencer feels incredibly emotional at the thought of all 3 of their kid's meeting and being best friends.

“You just bumped Spencer to the top of my suggestions list,” Luke jokes in response, not able to handle the sappiness this early in the morning. “Thanks, man, So Derek’s going to be a dad again too?”

“I wasn’t supposed to tell you,” Spencer feels a bit like an idiot, “I don’t know how far along they are so just keep it a secret for now.”

“She’ll probably tell me when I tell her,” Penelope rationalized it, “it’s fine, Spence, all of us are having babies it’s a good secret to spill.”

“When are you due?”

“January 29th,” Penelope smiles, “you?”

“Y/N doesn’t know for sure, but she’s thinking it’s February 20th, if she got her math right,” Spencer confirms with a smile, “we have a doctor's appointment to see the little one in 2 weeks.”

“We find out if it’s a boy or girl today,” Luke added, and he can hear Penelope smack him.

“We’re not finding out! I want it to be a surprise!”

“I’m going to find out, I’m going to stare that sonogram down till I see a pee-pee or not,” Luke bickered back. Making her furious on purpose, like always.

“Good luck with that, it’s a blob and you’re a dork,” she fought right back, probably even more feisty now that she was pregnant.

That made Spencer just shake his head, he couldn’t even picture it. It was insane when Haley got pregnant and Hotch became a dad, he was so shocked when JJ got pregnant and her small body was able to do it. He’ll never forget seeing Derek become a father, it was way too eventful not to. But this, he never thought he’d see it.

She probably felt the same with him.

“We’ve got to go in now Spence, but we can pick up some brunch and meet you at ours around 11?” Penelope cut into his awkward silence, “you can see the ultrasound and be the first to know.”

“Sounds good, I’m really happy for you, Penny,” Spencer added with a smile. “Bye.”

“Bye!”

After he hangs up he shoots a text over to Y/N, “taking the girls to Penelope’s house, is there an extra booster seat for Amoreena anywhere?” And slides his phone back into his pocket.

Down the stairs, Jo and Amoreena are doing the dishes instead of just placing them in the dishwasher. Amoreena is on a stool, washing the plates as Jo dries and is able to reach the cabinets better to put them away. They don’t even know he’s there watching as they pass plates back and forth.

Then Amoreena jumps off the stool as the water drains, finally turning around to see her dad, “all clean! Mom shouldn’t have to do anything while she’s making a baby.”

Spencer couldn’t stop smiling, his girls were so perfectly kind and caring. It was like he won the genetic lottery being blessed with them.

“She’d really appreciate us keeping the house clean for the next few months,” Spencer agreed. “Are you guys excited or nervous about the baby?”

They both shrugged and moved in closer to the counter, resting against it as they thought it over. He pressed his lips together awkwardly as he waited, “I’m really nervous.” He announced, watching their faces turn to worry.

“Why?” Jo asked, “You’re really good at being a dad.”

“I haven’t done it from the beginning yet,” he’s open and honest with them, letting them know he doesn’t always have every answer but he’s brave enough to try.

“If anything,” Amoreena’s smart little mind gets to work, “because you’ve been so amazing without really knowing us, I can imagine Elly will love you the most because she’ll know you the longest.”

“Elly?” Spencer smiles, remembering how serious they all are about the next kid is a girl too.

Amoreena nodded, “she has the choice of 3 nicknames, Elly, Leo or Nora…” She’s clearly thought it all through.

“You know, I was thinking we should get something for Y/N and the baby, do you guys want to go to the store before we go see aunty Penny?”

They both nod enthusiastically, “can we go get changed first?” Amoreena asks, “I want to wear something nice.”

It makes him laugh, “of course, hey, before you go do you know where any more booster seats are for you?”

She bites her lip to think, “hmm, I think there’s one in poppy’s truck?”

“Okay, you go get ready, I’ll go talk to poppy,” Spencer replies, and before he can even turn around both of them are running up the creaky, loud, wooden steps and into their rooms.

He’s already in jeans and a plaid shirt from feeding the chickens that morning, adding just his running shoes and Grandpa’s hat, it was basically his now. He loved it, it felt right, it made Y/N and Amoreena smile when he wore it, and it completed the look of stay-at-home Farm Dad.

He walked right into Y/N’s parent's house, pulling back the screen door before walking, “knock, knock,” he says, smiling as he sees Linda rounding the corner from the kitchen.

“Spencer!” She cheers, wiping her hands off on her apron before pulling him into a hug. “How are your girls?”

“Good,” he smiles again, holding her close quickly before letting her go again. “I’m taking them to a friend's house, does Amoreena have a booster seat here?” He asks for the 3rd time that morning, not wanting to drive her anywhere unless she’s perfectly secured.

“Bob’s got one in the truck, leave your keys here in case he has to go anywhere and just take the truck, it’s easier than taking the seat out and putting it back in,” Linda problem-solved like it was her job.

“Okay,” he places his keys in her hand.

“Bob’s are on the wall by the door, have fun today!” Linda waved him off, “oh, and tell Y/N congratulations.”

“Oh, thanks,” he smiled, “the wedding was really fun.”

He’s just taking the keys off the wall and opening the door again when he hears her small laughter, “I meant on the baby.”

He turns quickly, “how did you know?”

Linda shakes her head, “there are 3 cases of ginger ale in the fridge and 8 empty boxes of saltine crackers in the recycling.”

He turns pink, embarrassed for some reason as if Linda didn’t know he was sleeping with her daughter. He nods with a press-lipped smile. “She didn’t want to tell anyone till the ultrasound.”

“I understand,” Linda smiled. “I’m ready to talk to her when she is, let her know that.”

“I will,” he smiled one last time, “see you later!”

And they were off.

—

He’s in a big red farm truck, wearing a farm hat and plaid while listening to Taylor Swift with his daughters.

He can’t help but shake his head at the insanity, agreeing with Taylor’s current lyric that’s being burned into his head, “fever dream high in the quiet of the night you know that I caught it!”

Amoreena and Jo are in the back, singing together as they share what songs are their favourites. It’s surreal, every single moment is, if it wasn’t for how badly it made his heartache to see them so happy he’d think it was all a dream.

The girls are very adamant about going to TJMaxx for a present for Y/N, saying it’s the best place to find nice things for a good price. Spencer would spend a million dollars on her if he could, but this was a group decision, and there were 2 of them now, so he never won anymore.

They get a decent parking space, getting out together they look insane. Spencer is a walking talking Woody from Toy Story at this point, Jo’s in all black and combat boots and Amoreena is a princess… it was an interesting group, to say the least.

They get a cart, pushing it up and down the aisles as they find a million and 1 cute things for Y/N. Everything from paintings to towels, maternity clothes and baby toys, makeup brushes and scarves… they were having the hardest time finding the best thing to get for them.

Spencer turned down the final aisle in the back corner, seeing a bunch of headboards and chairs, and a small little bassinet. It’s whicker and woven beautifully, light wood and a fluffy white inside. It’s soft, well made, and incredibly cute.

“Mom gave my crib to Aunt Ashely, she might like this!” Amoreena cheered, leaning over it to show that she was the perfect height to see inside of it too.

“I’m going to get it,” Spencer announces, “it’ll look nice in our room, and it’s good for the first few months while she’s really dependent on your mom.”

They were all on team girl now, Spencer and his little women just made the most sense. He couldn’t see anyone other than all his girls in his mind when he thought of the future, and he’s had enough time with boys anyway. Hank and Henry would always hold a special place in his heart.

The girls each wanted t pick something out for the baby, heading right for the girl section of the baby aisle. “Now, you have to remember that they’ll be very tiny in the winter, and around 6 months in the summer.”

Everything was actually decently priced like the girls said it would be, so Spencer went a bit overboard. It was his first baby too, he was allowed to spoil it. He stocked up on bib rags, swaddle blankets, pacifiers and cute little hats. Jo and Amoreena on the other handpicked out the cutest little winter coat. It would be perfect for the Virginia winter, a big brown bear coat that zipped up like a sleeping bag. She’s going to be so cozy.

Bringing everything to the cashier was fun, she could see they were all related and smiled, “another brother or sister on the way?”

Jo and Amoreena smiled, “in February,” Jo was the one to answer with a wide smile.

“Congrats!” She smiles as she rings everything through, bagging it all while Spencer pays and the girls take it all to the truck.

“Wait, so will I ever meet my other brother and sister?” Amoreena asks as they’re filling the bed of the truck with what they bought, completely out of the blue.

“Not for a while, Jo kinda broke the rules to find me and figured out who they are, but they can’t know till they’re 18,” Spencer explained.

She turns to Jo with a look of worry, “was my name on there?”

Jo nods enthusiastically, “oh yeah! You’re baby number 3! It goes me, Alice, you and then Dylan is the youngest.”

Amoreena starts to cry, it's soft at first as she goes silent and then she’s heaving as she thinks about it more. She throws herself into Spencer’s arms and he’s so confused. Shushing her as he rubs her back gently, “what’s wrong, sweetheart?”

“I knew it,” is all she can say. Holding him closer than before. “You were too great to just be my dad.”

Jo places her hand on Spencer’s shoulder, “she’s right.”

“You guys are the amazing ones,” he says softly. “Come on, let’s get in the truck and go see Aunt Penny, she has a surprise.”

Amoreena sighed as she pulled back, “I don’t think I can handle anything more.”

It makes him laugh, “it’s a simple one, I promise.”

—

Jo loves Penelope. They instantly click, discussing exactly how she hacked the Sperm bank in all the technical terms which ended up sounding like gibberish to Spencer. She was incredibly smart and very interested in the computer programming field. Penelope offered to take her under her wing.

Amoreena, however, fell head over heels in love with Luke. He was nice to her at the barbecue because he’s Luke and he doesn’t know how to be anything but nice, and she thought he looked like Prince Naveen from the princess and the frog… which just so happened to be her favourite and suddenly Spencer understood why she was in a green princess dress today.

It was adorable, she looked up at him like he was an actual prince with big brown doe eyes as she listened to him talk about all the knightly battles he’s been on recently. She was enamoured, having her first little kid crush on her Aunt’s boyfriend.

Spencer was holding Penelope’s sonogram in his hands, alone on the couch as his kids were deep in conversation with his friends. It was really cool, that’s all he could think. Himself, Derek and Penelope were going to have 3 kids all around the same age.

3 little people who got to grow up with a bond and friendship just as strong as theirs. Each of them having 2 best friends, 2 protectors, it was going to be amazing. He can see it now, a confident little Garcia, a feisty little Morgan and a shy yet chatty little Reid baby all together on the playground. What a nightmare for their poor teacher.

Y/N still hasn’t texted him back from this morning, yet she’s calling him now at 1 pm as they’re getting ready to leave, “hello, princess.”

“Can you leave the girls with Penelope and meet me in the ER?”

“Of what hospital? Are you okay?” He asks, and all eyes are on his horrified face.

Luke stands then, “I’ll take you, let’s go.”

“Bethesda, it’s not bad I just came in to check something and I want you here,” her voice is soft and she knows he’s going to panic. “I need you to breathe and stay calm or the kids will freak out.”

He takes a deep breath, “sorry I forgot we had an appointment today.” He lies pretty well.

“I’ll see you soon okay, text me while Luke drives me?” He’s quiet as he and Luke slip out the door.

“I’ll just stay on the line, I don’t mind, cutie,” he could see her smile in his mind as he listened to her. Able to actually calm down and think straight as he climbed into the passenger seat and handed Luke the keys.

“What happened?”

“I didn’t feel good, I was extra dizzy and sick a few times at work, so Allison made me come in. Savannah has me hooked up to an IV now, I’ve been so sick I’m dehydrated, and they wanted to do an ultrasound but I can’t see her without you here.”

His heartbeat settles a bit, the same thing happened to JJ. It was fairly normal, the first-trimester sickness was so horrific she wasn’t really eating, she had maybe 1 full meal a day even though he tried to get her to eat more. And she was drinking a lot of water, but she was also throwing up hourly. It wasn’t healthy.

“Okay,” he’s able to smile softly. “Thank you for wanting to wait for me.”

She hears his smile too, knowing he’s calm and okay. “She’s your first baby, baby, I want you to have all the firsts with her. Or him. I’m so settled on it being another girl I feel so bad sometimes…”

He can hear the paper of her hospital gown rustling as she rubs her small stomach. “I love you forever even if you are a boy, or you come out a quote-unquote boy and want to be a girl or the other way or neither or even both!” She’s clearly not talking to him anymore as she assures the baby she’s not going to be upset about its gender.

Luke drives like a maniac, Spencer knows from experience but he’s extra insane today. He has dad panic now too, he knows what Spencer’s thinking and so he guns it and he’s in the ER parking lot within 10 minutes. “Okay, I’m here where are you?”

“Savannah’s going to collect you at the door and bring you to me,” her voice is soft and calm still, “I’ll see you in a few minutes, love you.”

“Love you too,” he replies before hanging up. “Thank you, Luke.”

Luke places his hand on Spencer’s shoulder, “you know by now I’d kill for you, right?”

Spencer’s heart has been at a capacity for love for a while now and yet it keeps getting piled on, “thank you. If you want to go back to Penny’s that’s okay. I’ll drive Y/N’s car back to your place.”

“Sure,” Luke smiles again. “Go see that baby, I want to see pictures after!”

With that, Spencer’s getting out of the truck and running into the hospital, holding his hat so it doesn’t fly off. Savannah laughs when she sees him, he’s so anxious and sweet and she’s always admired him for making Derek feel loved before her.

She places a hand on his back as she leads him down the hall, “she’s fine I promise, I wouldn’t be this chill if she wasn’t.”

“Thank you,” Spencer stops, “I really love her Savannah. Like if anything happens to her or my kids I will kill myself kind of love her and it’s terrifying.” His words are a whisper as he shakes, tears welling in his eyes. “I’m trying to be cool and collected for her but I need a minute.”

Savannah looks down the corridor past him, smiling softly as Derek walks out of Y/N’s room. “Derek was here for lunch when she called me.”

He wraps Spencer up in the hug he needs and Spencer just holds him. “You’re the best,” he says softly as he rests his lips against Derek's shoulder like he always does. And Derek messes up his hair, without fail.

Derek places his hands on his cheeks, “she’s really cool, but tomorrow is called off until they’re both past the first trimester and everything is chill, okay?”

“I forgot all about that,” Spencer’s eyes widen.

Derek laughs, “go see your girl, she invited us over for dinner after.”

“Penelope and Luke have to come too, they have big news to share today too,” Spencer spills the beans, “she’s going to be so mad at me for telling you but I have been wanting to scream about it for a few hours now.”

Derek’s face lights up, “I’ll be back!”

Savannah laughs as he runs down the hall, surely going to congratulate his best friend and tell her all about how cool it’ll be to all have kids together. With all the enthusiasm that Spencer kept inside, Derek was about to scream on his behalf.

Y/N’s a vision in the blue paper gown, laying on the table with her hand over her belly as Spencer walks in, “Hey, cutie.”

He peppers kisses to her whole face while she laughs, reaching up with her free hand, the other is all taped up with wires for her fluids. She looks much better already, her skin is glowing and the life is back in her eyes, she’s smiling again and he notices the 2 empty jello cups beside an unopened one.

“Derek made me save you one,” She adds as he notices it, “in case you passed out or something.”

Within minutes, he’s done his jello and there’s a new woman he’s never seen before coming in for Y/N’s ultrasound. She introduces herself as Aria and Y/N can’t help but mention she kind of looks like Arizona on Grey’s Anatomy.

She’s not far along enough for the regular ultrasound wand to pick anything up, wiping her belly clean of the jelly before prepping the other one and Y/N grips Spencer’s hand tighter. She looks like she hates it, and Spencer probably would too if some strange lady shoved a metal stick up his parts.

She’s clicking around on her own, Spencer knows she’s just a tech and she can’t really tell them anything until she does the first sweep for all the answers. She turns the screen after a few minutes, “here’s your little baby, we have a healthy heartbeat and a placenta up here in the top left.”

Seeing his baby is the most magical moment of his life. She was so tiny, the size of a sweet pea inside the love of his life. She looked like a little alien, tiny in her little sac as she floated around in there. Happy, and healthy and growing day by day.”

“Just the one?” Y/N confirms.

Aria laughs, “yes, nothing else is going on in here, but they are measuring more at 7 weeks, almost 8, instead of 6 weeks and 5 days, even with your period math, they might just be a big baby.”

“Our first kid was a chunky baby,” Y/N smiles, looking at the screen and oblivious to how Spencer smiles at the words our first kid…

“So this little one is good, in the fetal position and the tail is at the right length for development, they should look like a person the next time you see them. Everything looks like it’s on track and your HCG is doubling perfectly,” Aria was very cheerful. “You’re just sick because they’re super healthy.”

“I’m fine with that,” Y/N smiles again, “can I have a bunch of copies? Everyone is going to want one.”

“Sure,” Aria hits a few buttons, printing 11 photos off and handing them over to her in a long strand. “Have you looked into any OB’s for this one?”

“Not yet, I was going to bring it up tonight,” Y/N’s the only one talking, Spencer has no idea if he’s allowed an opinion on her body and he’s never going to give one unless she asks.

“Well, I’ll leave you to it! Here are some facilities we like if you need recommendations,” she smiles as she hands them a booklet. “Congratulations!”

“Thank you,” Y/N swoons, sitting up to look at her little baby photos and read the booklet.

Once the woman is gone, she smiles at Spencer, “I want to do a water birth, how are you feeling about that?”

“Like I’ll be there no matter what you pick?” He answers, “I just want you to be safe and in good hands, preferably in a birthing centre where they’re all trained to care for you. I’ve been a little stressed at the idea of us living so far away from the hospital, so it’s better to not do a home birth in case something goes wrong last minute.”

It’s a Reid rant of epic proportions, “okay, water birth in a birthing centre it is. Plus, it’ll be winter so I wouldn’t want to drive in that while giving birth.”

“How long do you have to stay here?”

“Once my IV fluid bag is empty, I can go.” She smiles wide, holding his hand gently as she looks at him. “They’re going to send a nurse to the library on Tuesdays and Thursdays to ensure I get more fluids in me, and I’m also going to take some nausea meds now.”

“Thank you for calling me,” Spencer whispers, “I’m so happy you feel safe with Derek, and that he could have been here for you, but can you call me first next time?”

She nods, “I was scared, I needed to know if she was okay before I told you because I love you a lot and seeing you upset made me more scared.”

“I don’t want you to feel like that,” Spencer shook his head softly, leaning in and pressing their foreheads together. “I may be a worry wort and an anxious crier, but I will hold your hand and I will be here, you mean more to me than anything else.”

She cupped his face with her free hand, “the girls better be on the same level as me.” She brings a smile to his face, “if anything happens to me you have to be strong for them, I know nothing bad will. But I need you to know I do have faith in you to keep going after me, for them. They need a parent, be it me or you, at 100% all the time.”

“I promise,” he smiles so she knows he’s true.

—

Penelope Spencer and Derek laid all 3 of their ultrasounds on Y/N’s kitchen table, a sticky note on each one. Baby Garvez, Baby Morgan and Baby Reid…

The Big Three 2.0 coming this winter.

Penelope took a photo of it, opening the BAU text thread that has all members past and present included. Sending the photo to everyone while they patiently waited for a response.

Jordan Todd: way to go!!! Can’t wait to see all that cuteness!

Anderson: !!! Bring them by the office sometime, please!

Hotch: Jack said he’s excited to meet his new cousins. Congrats guys.

Elle: is Penelope having 2 babies or did Spencer get a wife I don’t know about?

Emily: Congrats!! (And yes Spencer has a wife and 3 kids now apparently…)

Elle: pics or it didn’t happen

Spencer:

Elle: no fuckin way... congrats Reid!

Alex Blake: so proud of you Spencer, I always knew you could do it. Love is full of endless possibilities. Your kids will be so loved, I miss you all.

Matt Cruz: congrats!

Kate Callahan: we need to get you a triple stroller

Penelope: Please!! Zoo trips are going to be a riot with that!

Tara: so happy for you all!

Matt: Welcome to the club Spencer and Luke!

Kristy: and Y/N! We need to throw a big baby shower on the farm before the cold weather!

Will: JJ…

JJ: no.

Will: Spencer, tell nini I’m really happy she’s finally going to be a big sis, she’s always been so good with the kids. You made some great kids!

Spencer: thanks everyone ♥︎

tag list: @shemarmooresfedora @spencers-dria @spookyspence @reidsfish @manuosorioh @mochionly @samuel-de-champagne-problems @jswessie187

@k-k0129 @calm-and-doctor

#spencer reid #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #spencer reid self insert #spencer reid request #criminal minds smut #criminal minds imagine #amoreena

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thatsallotadamage · 4 years ago

Text

An interview with a promising Hero (Fic)

Relationships nonromantic: Aizawa and Toga. Toga and the league

Warnings: small mention of suicide

Description: Toga Himiko has been captured. Nezu has a "Reforming Villians" program set up that would fit Toga perfectly. The only problem is they need to get her to talk about her story but she refuses to speak to anyone, except Aizawa for some reason.

_____

Preface this by saying in this AU Toga hasn't killed anyone. She attacks but leaves them alive, unless of course it's an attacker. )

Aizawa sat in a little room with a two way mirror and a table in front of him. It was an interviewing room, why was he here? Well for Toga Himiko of course, Nezu had a little god complex memory and started a program to reform young villians around the time Toga Himiko was captured. But the issue was the only person she was willing to talk to about her past was Aizawa. So he had to squeeze every bit if information he could from her.

He watched with interest as they brought her in. Just a week ago she was sitting in his Livingroom with a cup of hot chocolate looking just like any other teenage girl. But when they dragged her in she looked bitter and surprisingly scared. Her hands were bound, nails had been clipped and she had a dog muzzle over her mouth. "I can walk myself to the damn chair!" She snarled as she was escorted to her seat across from Aizawa. The guard let out a quick "good luck" before hurrying out and closing the door.

They sat in silence for a few minutes "Toga" he said.

She looked up at him "Don't be that way Shouta! You know you can call me Himiko" she said, her usual smile returning to her face "Now, why'd they muzzle me? You know I'm not going to bite you" she said with a pout "I really don't like being muzzled".

He raised his eyebrows and started the recording "Well, they dint trust you it know you like I do, I was pretty angry when they muzzled you" he said and yawned. "Alright let's cut to the chase already, you know Nezu wants to reform you" he sipped his coffee.

"Yep! And I know you want any information you can get in the league right?" She asked.

Aizawa nodded "But right now let's talk about you, not much known about your early life other than you ran away at the age of thirteen" he said "Mind opening up about it?".

Toga pondered for awhile "Sure, no use in hiding it anyways, it's just a classic normal villain story really" she stretched and yawned. "Mommy and daddy didn't love each other, they fought about that, they thought my quirk was gross, they fought about that, they thought my tendencies were disgusting so they fought about that" she paused and shifted in her seat. "They just fought a lot and at the end of it mom would get really violent and tell me it was my fault so one day I snapped, I'm sure you've heard of the accident where I attacked my classmate". She seemed hesitant when remembering it. "I ran away with the intent of killing myself, I was going to jump off a bridge but i couldn't go through with it, there was a guy there and he took me in and that was Dabi, he became like my big brother and I never looked back" she stopped.

Aizawa took awhile to process it all. It was difficult for home to think of the villain Dabi helping a little girl who was about to jump off a bridge back onto her feet. Hell it was difficult to imagine a parent telling their child it was all their fault and that their quirk was disgusting. Then again he had adopted Hitoshi and his background wasn't all sunshine and rainbows either. "Wasn't really sure what I was expecting but certainly not that" he said. Toga merrily laughed "Yeah I know it's weird to think about but Dabi is actually a big softie when it comes to kids and me" she smiled fondly at memories of years past.

Aizawa took a long sip of his coffee thermos, mumbling to himself how it was almost empty. "Alright, speaking of Dabi can you tell me about this league?" He asked.

She grinned "Yeah! We're like a family really" she said happily

Aizawa raised his eyebrows, he never thought a gang of criminals would ever call themselves a family so to sat he was curious wouldn't even cover it "How so?" He asked.

"Well, I told you Dabi is like a big brother but he's like the one that shows up randomly for gas money, he comes and goes" she pouted. "Shiggy is like a big brother too but the one that lives in the basement and games all day, hes a meanie" she said and tugged against her hand restraints "I itch" she complained.

"Keep talking and I'll take your cuffs off" he said. He didn't know how to feel about Toga talking about them like this, giving them nicknames and humanizing them. He was reminded Shigaraki was just a kid just a bit older than Mirio.

"Well, Kurogiri is like our dad" she giggled "He gets mad when we forget to eat or the dishwasher isn't loaded right...in fact the last thing we talked about before I got captured was him asking what I wanted for dinner and he'd have it ready when we got home" she tried not to look emotional but it was difficult. One moment she was going about her day, looking forward to a hot chicken tender meal and the next she was cuffed and muzzled at the police station being fed a bag of carrot sticks. Aizawa hated it, he hated seeing kids upset and no matter how people put it Toga was still just that, a kid, a child.

"Um" she sniffled and wiped her eyes with her wrist. "Compress and Spinner are like the fun uncles, Compress with his magic shows, he loves doing tricks and Spinner is just fun to be around when he's not brooding...those two even homeschooled me so I don't have the education level of a twelve year old" she said and couldn't look him in the eye. "I don't know what I would call Jin, he's like family but doesn't fit anywhere, hes my best friend...Twice is fun though he's my partner in crime- one time we swapped out Dabi's hair dye shampoo with normal shampoo, his hair is white" she snickered. Seemingly in a better mood talking about the rest if her 'family'. "What about you Shouta? You got family right?".

He wasn't expecting her to be asking him questions. But he knew if he didn't answer she's just get upset and refuse to talk. "Yeah I got people like that. Twenty three problem children...well twenty four if I count Mirio" he couldn't help but smile with fondness thinking about his students and kids "I got Present Mic, he's my best friend, my guy if you will" he said and downed the rest of his coffee. "That thinking you said about Kurogiri? I am the tired dad that is sick of asking all the kids if they remembered to eat, it's annoying when they don't" he said. Toga laughed and proceeded to call him a big softie. "Yeah yeah I know the kids say that every day, is there anyone else you want to add to your family?" He asked.

Without hesitation Himiko replied with "Hawksie!". Aizawa took a moment to process that, he knew Hawks had been gathering Intel for the HPSC on the league for some time now, but had it really gotten to the point that Toga thought of him as family "What?" He asked.

"Hawksie! He’s like the fun uncle, he takes me places and I've time he held me and we flew!" She laughed "He won't let me bite him though because he's a meanie, like I know his little secrets like the gloves and the chirping thing, what's the big deal?" She said. Aizawa just stared. She frowned "What? You feel bad because he's a spy don't you?" she asked.

Aizawa didn't make any movement, he shrugged and continued looking. She groaned "Look we know he's a spy already but Dabi is his friend and Shiggy cares about him, I know he thinks about me as a sibling and Kurogiri cares about him way to much, like he made him a dinner to take home once because of the stupid punishments" she said. "He and Spinner get along great and you should see when he plays Twice and Jin during go fish" she smiled a little. "He tells those Thots at the HPSC what they need to know but he hates them just as much as we do, I can't say anything else since he wouldn't appreciate me saying anymore but Hawksie is my friend and I can't wait to see him".

Aizawa listened attentively to what she had to say, It was a shock to say the least. "I see, well I won't ask about that anymore okay? How about anew topic like" he pulled out a stick note " How do you feel about this while reforming thing?" Hs asked.

Her features dropped and she started thinking "Hopeless" she said. "You can take a villain out of the league but you cant take the league our of the villain ya know?" She said. "They're always going to be my family because I had no one else... they raised me into the girl I am today" she said. "Hawksie always talked out reforming me and I doubt he didn't pull any strings to make sure I didn't wind up at Tartarus or Nanba". She looked like she was lost in thought, she took a deep breath and swung her feet back and forth. "Hawks always said the villain route is no place for a kid but what choice do I have with a blood quirk that makes me literally crazy?!" She teared up. "The only blood quirk hero I can think of is Vlad King...he's so cool but he doesn't drink blood he just expels it" she said.

Aizawa was surprised to head her call a hero cool. "To-" he stopped himself "Himiko, people with quirks labeled villainous can make the greatest heroes, I should know that since I'm trading one right now" he said. "My son is adopted, he was given up because of his quirk, he can mind control people and he's going to be the best Hero because of it" he said. "And I want to remind you not all heroes wear capes, some wear lab coats, others are first responders and therapists, a Hero's job is to help people and you don't have to have a flashy or conventionally heroic quirk to do it" he lectured.

"...Yep, 100% dad material" she said before bursting into a fit of laughter "You even got the 'please understand my lecture' face!" She wheezed.

Aizawa rolled his eyes "I get that a lot, okay last question why did you choose me of all people to interview you? You seem close with Hawks so why not him?" He asked.

Toga shrugged "Like I said, Hawks is like my uncle, besides he knows all this stuff already" he said "When they brought me to the UA place you were the first person that treated me like a person so I appreciate that" she smiled.

The buzzer sounded letting them know time was up. Toga sighed "Aw man!" She pouted. Aizawa grabbed his empty cup and stood up "I'll see you around kid, you'll find a family and make a great hero okay?" He truly believed she had potential "I better see you in my class or in Vlad's in a week or two" he said. Himiko groaned as the escorts walked in to take her away "Alright whatever Dadzawa I'll see you later" she teased.

___

"Dadzawa huh?" Hizashi asked from his spot on the couch.

"Yeah" Shouta chuckled "it has a nice ring to it".

#mr aizawa #toga+angst #toga himiko #reformed toga #mha #bnha #bnha aizawa #bnha toga #ao3 #ao3 fanfic

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helloalycia · 5 years ago

Text

noise complaint [three] // alycia debnam-carey

summary: after becoming friends with the neighbour you really like, you decide to come clean about who you are. You didn't expect it to result in something else...

warning/s: none.

author's note: it's literally been a year since I posted part 2 to this. I never even intended for there to be 3 parts, but here we are! Hope you like the lil conclusion to this :)

part one | part two | masterlist | wattpad

"...write their full names down and don't forget to give them a leaflet. They're more likely to give that way."

"You done, mom?"

I gave my friend and colleague a knowing look. "Ty."

He rolled his eyes playfully, holding the door to my building open. "I won't forget, Y/N."

"You did last time," I reminded him as I gladly walked through the door.

"Well, I won't this time," he promised, before checking his wristwatch. "I gotta go, shoot."

"Thanks for walking me," I said, giving him an appreciative smile. "Now, if you screw up, please tell me before the event and not after."

"I will." He laughed as he gave me a hug. "See you later, Y/N."

"Bye." I waved him goodbye with an amused smile.

When he left, I headed to grab my mail, seeing a familiar brunette already there, grabbing her own mail. The same teasing smile that adorned my face when I was around her appeared and I headed over there confidently.

Alycia and I were kind of friends now, though it was very obvious I liked her. I tried to tone it down for her sake, but sometimes it was funny watching her glare at me playfully.

"ADC, to what do I owe this pleasure?" I said, stepping beside her to open my mailbox.

She cracked a smile, eyes sparkling with amusement. "You approached me, Y/N."

"My point remains."

She laughed, rolling her eyes as she continued looking at the letters in her hand. "Just checking my mail, like you."

I kept smiling as I glanced at her, before looking to see what letters I got.

"So... was that guy your boyfriend?"

I quirked an eyebrow as I tore my eyes from my letters. "Huh? Oh, Ty?" I laughed when it dawned on me what she thought. "If he was, I definitely didn't know."

She seemed to relax a little, an embarrassed smile on her lips.

"I'm gay," I clarified with a humoured expression. "I've got the hots for a certain Australian neighbour, remember?"

Alycia rolled her eyes, suppressing a smile. "Seriously? Besides. I didn't want to presume. You could've been bisexual or something."

"Not in this life," I said, shuddering at the thought of being with a man. I suddenly grinned as I looked at her though. "Why d'you ask anyway? You jealous?"

Alycia glared at me playfully, though her cheeks were getting pinker by the second. I refrained from laughing, loving teasing her until she usually slapped me on the arm and changed the subject. As funny as this was though, I guess I did secretly wish she was jealous. But Alycia wasn't interested, that much she had made clear.

"Ladies, it's lovely I caught you both here!"

Alycia and I spun around when we saw our landlady, Mrs. Khan, approaching us with a smile.

"Mrs. Khan, hey," I greeted. "Did you need something?"

She shook her head. "I just thought I'd check in since the last time we met." Her eyes fell to Alycia's. "Any complaints, Miss Debnam-Carey?"

I looked over to Alycia with a cheesy grin on my face, causing her to crack a smile and roll her eyes.

"No complaints on my end," Alycia told her honestly. "Y/N seems to be behaving herself."

"How lovely," Mrs. Khan said, almost with relief. "That's great to hear. I guess I'll leave you both to it."

With that, she left us in the hall with our mail.

"She's totally warming up to me," I said with a knowing nod.

Alycia chuckled as she closed her locker. "I'm sure she is."

I closed mine too and followed her as she walked up the steps. "Hey, if you hadn't tattle-tale-d on me like a kid a month ago, she would have no issues with me."

"You're forgetting the part where you blasted your volume whilst playing video games," she said with an amused smile, her green eyes bright as they stared at me.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever..." I waved her off dismissively.

She laughed when she knew she was in the right, and I watched with a smile, admiring how beautiful she looked when her eyes were closed and her teeth were showing in a wide smile. The sound was contagious, making my stomach do somersaults, and it made this whole thing a little worth it. She was ethereal.

–

That same evening, I was going around the whole building and collecting some last minute donations for the charity gala I was attending on the weekend. The charity I worked for raised money for schools in deprived countries to help them afford supplies, textbooks, computers, the whole lot. My job was to help fundraise in schools, offices, even on the street, and I was doing some last minute fundraising to help the kids in our local schools increase their donations.

People were quite generous in our building, and for the most part, weren't rude. There were a few who may or may not have shut the door in my face, but otherwise it was going well. I purposely saved Alycia's door for last however, wanting to see her face when I asked her.

She didn't know what my job was, just that it was office-based, which technically wasn't a lie. I just wanted to have another excuse to tease her, so I headed over to her place and knocked on the door with my clipboard and envelope in hand.

When I knocked on, it took her a moment to open up, but when she did, a confused smile appeared on her lips.

"Good evening, miss. I was wondering if you would be interested in donating some money to [a charity name], to help children in deprived countries have a better education?"

Alycia quirked an eyebrow, resting a hand on her hip as she met my eyes with confusion. "Huh?"

I chuckled and lowered my clipboard, cutting the act. "How do you do, m'lady?"

She stepped to the side to let me in and I walked in, casually taking a seat at her kitchen counter. I'd been over at her place a few times in the past month, and vice versa, so this was pretty normal for us.

"What's with the clipboard?" she asked, grabbing a glass and pouring some lemonade in it.

"Thanks," I said, accepting the drink, taking a sip before explaining. "Part of me was trying to pull your leg, but the other part is actually trying to raise money for charity."

"Wait, you're serious? This isn't you being your dorky self?"

"No, I'm serious," I said, though I was laughing. "I'm in charge of organising donations and making sure the kids raise enough. I've been going around the building, asking for donations. Just thought I'd see if you wanted to donate? Of course, you don't have to, but yeah."

Alycia was still struggling to believe me as she studied me curiously. Eventually, she sighed and went to grab her purse from the coffee table.

"How's... thirty dollars?"

I raised my eyebrows with surprise as she held it out towards me. "More than expected. People usually give, like, ten."

She chuckled and waved the money towards me again. "Here's thirty. Can't deny kids their education, right?"

I accepted the money, an appreciative smile on my lips. "Wow, thanks, Alycia." I filled in her details on the clipboard and put the money in the envelope before jumping off the stool.

"So, you do charity work?" Alycia asked, as if still trying to believe it.

"What? Do I not seem the type?" I teased, before finishing the lemonade off in a quick gulp.

"No, no, that's not it," she reassured, a little embarrassed. "I just, I don't know. It's strange seeing you serious about something. You usually take the piss."

"Only with you, Alycia," I said with a grin. "Besides, this is a good job. It helps people. I love it."

Alycia smiled as she listened, nodding in agreement. I bit my lower lip as a thought crossed my mind, but I wasn't sure whether to push my luck. Then again, we were friends, so it wasn't really...

"Hey, Alycia?"

"Yeah?" She was at the dishwasher now, filling it up with dishes by her sink.

I ignored the nervousness I felt and said, "All this money is gonna get counted up and announced at this gala this weekend. Everyone who works with the charity will be there, and I've got two tickets. I was wondering if you, maybe, wanna go with me?"

Alycia stopped what she was doing and looked up, raising her eyebrows as if she'd misheard. "You want me to go with you?"

"As friends, of course," I clarified, offering a small, nervous smile. "It could be fun! It's for charity, and it's gonna be all fancy and stuff. You like dressing up, right?"

Alycia began to smile. "It sounds lovely."

I felt my heart fluttering nervously. "So, that's a yes?"

She chuckled. "Yes, Y/N, it's a yes. I'd love to go with you."

I tried to hide the excitement in my voice as I said, "Yeah, great, that's great. Er, yeah. Okay. I'll let you know all the details tomorrow."

"Sounds like a plan," she agreed, flashing me a heartwarming, weak-in-the-knees smile.

I swallowed hard, returning the smile, before grabbing my clipboard. "I should go get this sorted out, but yeah, I'll see you tomorrow. Thanks again, for the donation."

"Anytime."

I tried not to trip over my own two feet as I let myself out, a massive grin on my lips. I'd wanted to ask Alycia since the gala had first been announced at work, but I figured she might say no since we'd only just recently established our friendship. She didn't though. She said yes!

I was thrilled, knowing it was my chance to share another part of my life with her, an important part. Yes, I'd been teasing her and annoying her since we'd met, but I began to trust her as a friend, and I wanted her to know everything about me, now that I knew she liked me for me and not for anything else.

–

I played with the edges of my blazer nervously, constantly checking the door of our building to see if Alycia was there.

The weekend had come by soon enough and Alycia was finishing getting ready, telling me she'd meet me outside. I was super nervous though, unable to keep still as I thought about whether the car and driver was too much.

I just wanted Alycia to have a great time and be treated how she deserved. It's not like we would stand out – everybody at the gala had much more glamorous modes of transport.

After what felt like forever, I saw Alycia's figure stepping outside, an apologetic expression on her face. I lost my words though, my mouth going dry as I looked at her. She was radiant, wearing an off-the-shoulder black dress that hugged her curves perfectly, paired with some high heels that accentuated her legs. It's like she was purposely trying to make me have a gay panic attack, honestly.

"I am so sorry for taking a little longer than I said," she said when she approached me. "I couldn't find my shoes and then I lost my purse when I found them."

I was still awestruck by how gorgeous she looked, her dark eye makeup making her bright green eyes stand out and sending shivers down my spine.

"You look amazing," she complimented, eyes looking me up and down. "You clean up nice."

She was smiling playfully, and I tried to find words as I nodded.

"I... thank you. You look... wow. Like, good wow. Really good wow. Really good wow."

She looked down bashfully as she smiled to herself. "Thank you, Y/N."

I swallowed hard, before clearing my throat. "I, er, yeah, we're taking the car." I nodded to the Porsche parked out front. "I hope that's okay."

She looked to where I was and her eyes widened. "You're kidding, right? That's a bit too fancy isn't it? I didn't mind getting a taxi."

I smiled, finally catching my breath, holding out my hand. "Now what kind of date would I be if I made you get into a taxi dressed like that?" She looked to me with an unreadable expression, and I quickly added, "Friendly date, of course."

She pursed her lips, suppressing a smile, and placed her hand in mine. "That's sweet. I don't even know what to say."

I began to lead her to the car, opening the back door. "Don't say anything. Just get in and enjoy the ride, yeah?"

She paused by the open door, directing a small smile my way. To my surprise, she leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss to my cheek, making me melt on the spot.

I closed the door after her before going around to the other side, sliding in beside her.

"Straight to the gala, Miss Y/L/N?" the driver asked, glancing at me in the rear view mirror.

"Please, Jerry, thank you."

Jerry nodded and set off. Alycia glanced at me with a raised eyebrow, a surprised smile on her lips.

"What?" I asked, refraining from chuckling.

"You better have not spent a lot on this," Alycia warned playfully, though I sensed truth to her words. "And don't say your work arranged it because nobody's work arranges stuff like this."

I laughed, meeting her intoxicating gaze. "I promise you that everything was completely in my price range."

Alycia narrowed her eyes, attempting to figure out the grin on my lips, but when she realised she couldn't, she sighed and leaned back into her seat.

"You're off the hook," she gave in. "For now."

When Jerry reached the gala, I escorted Alycia out of the car and watched as she took in the vastness of the building.

"This is... wow," she muttered, looking around at the high ceilings and carved-out wall work in the entrance.

"Wait until you see the inside of the ballroom," I said with an amused smile. "You'll love it."

She glanced at me with disbelief, before allowing me to lead her further inside. I handed in our tickets, received two champagne flutes for Alycia and I, and led her in the main ballroom that was bigger and brighter than anything even I had ever seen.

It was elegantly decorated, with beautiful flower arrangements lining the walls and sitting on the tables, and fairy lights were strung across the ceiling, twinkling above like stars. The room was packed with people who worked with me and some parents of the children who had been raising money in the local schools. I also recognised some sponsors and partners of the charity, but ultimately, I was subtly watching Alycia to see what she thought.

"You were right, this is even better," she admitted, intrigued by everything we walked past.

"I knew you'd love it," I said, staring at her with admiration. Even when she was distracted like a kid in a candy store, she still looked so beautiful, leaving me with butterflies in my stomach and tingles up my arm from where hers was touching mine.

She turned to me, eyes brighter than any of the fairy lights above. "I didn't think you liked events like this."

"I don't."

She cocked her head to the side. "Then why did you come tonight?"

"Well, there's two reasons," I admitted. "One was because it's for charity. I thought I'd show my support."

She smiled adorably. "And the second reason?"

I gave her a knowing look. "You agreed to come with me. How often do I get to take you out?"

She rolled her eyes, but I saw her fighting the smile from her lips.

"Y/N, hey!"

I turned around at the mention of my name, a little disheartened that they interrupted Alycia and I's conversation. It was Ty, all dressed in his best clothes, a grin on his face.

"Great to see you," I said to him, smiling at him nonetheless. He hugged me as I said, "You doing okay?"

He nodded. "Amazing. Apparently we raised a lot this time 'round."

"Fingers crossed," I said hopefully, before glancing at an awkwardly smiling Alycia. "Ty, this is Alycia. She's my date."

I laughed when Alycia smacked me on the arm playfully.

"I'm her friend," Alycia corrected, before shaking Ty's outstretched hand. "It's nice to meet you."

"You, too," Ty replied with a friendly smile. "You must be the Australian neighbour she's always talking about."

I rolled my eyes, knowing my face was heating up as they both looked to me with humorous expressions.

"Huh, I must be," she agreed teasingly.

"Anyway, Ty was just leaving," I said to Alycia, ignoring the playful smirk tugging at her lips.

"Actually, I came to tell you that your parents are looking for you," he said matter-of-factly. "And they're heading over here as I speak."

I knew I'd be seeing my parents tonight, since it was their charity after all, but I was expecting to prep myself a little beforehand then speak to them. So, when Ty sheepishly told me they were walking over to me, I may or may not have panicked a little.

"Your parents?" Alycia asked, furrowing her eyebrows.

I nodded, seeing my parents approaching me with smiles on their faces. "Yeah. I was supposed to mentally prepare for this, but I guess we're gonna see how this goes."

Alycia opened her mouth, a questioning gaze on me, but my parents suddenly stopped by and spoke first, silencing her.

"Y/N, there you are!" my mum said, before pulling me in for a quick hug. "You look lovely!"

"Thanks, mum," I said, smiling with embarrassment. "You both look great. And this gala is the best you've done yet."

"It's certainly a stand-out event," my dad agreed with a shrug, before he noticed Alycia, who was still looking between my parents and I as if piecing us together. "And who might this young lady be? A date?"

For once, Alycia was too confused to correct them, so I did.

"This is Alycia Debnam-Carey," I introduced her. "She's my friend and neighbour. She donated and so I thought I'd invite her to show her a bit of what I do."

"The glamorous parts of it," my mum joked, before smiling kindly at Alycia. "It's lovely to meet you, Alycia, dear. I'm Y/M/N and this is my husband, Y/D/N."

Alycia suddenly cleared her throat, eyes darting to mine with surprise. She plastered an easygoing smile on her lips as she shook my parents' hands.

"Y/L/N as in..."

"The founders of this charity?" my dad finished for her with a quirked eyebrow. He suppressed a laugh. "Yes, that's us. Didn't Y/N say...?"

Alycia licked her lips, shaking her head. "Er, no... you guys are amazing though. I've read a bit about the work you do and I've even donated a few times."

"Only a few?" my mum teased.

Alycia smiled, a little flustered. "Well, I'm actually a regular donator to The Salvation Army. It's a postal thing that I don't really know how to stop, but yeah."

I contained a smile as my parents chuckled at Alycia's truthfulness.

"Your honesty is refreshing," my mum admitted before glancing at me. "I see why you're friends with her."

I glanced at Alycia, noticing she was smiling politely at my parents and giving them her full attention.

"Well, Alycia, I hope you enjoy the the evening, and on behalf of the whole organisation, I thank you for donating to a great cause," my dad concluded with a grateful smile. He looked to me and said, "Enjoy yourself, Y/N, you deserve it."

"See you both later," I said, giving them a nod, before watching them walk away.

When they were gone, Alycia breathed out shakily, looking to me with an unimpressed look.

"Were you planning on telling me that you're the daughter of billionaires and that this is your parents' gala, or were you gonna wait until I made a fool of myself in front of them?" she asked, raising an eyebrow with disbelief.

"Bit of an exaggeration," I said playfully, before losing my smile when I saw her serious expression. "Alycia, you didn't make a fool of yourself. They loved you."

"Y/N."

I sighed, offering a small, nervous smile. "Look, I don't really think of myself as a billionaire's daughter. I mean, you've seen where I live. I just work for them. I barely see them. I prefer to stay lowkey."

"Clearly," she noted, making me chuckle.

"I don't really tell people who my parents are until I trust them," I told her truthfully, eyes softening as they met her unreadable green ones. "I never know if people want to be my friend for me or for them. So, it was better this way. I know I lied, but I hope you understand."

She breathed out slowly, nodding. "I get it. I do."

I smiled hopefully. "So you're not mad?"

She chewed on her lower lip as she smiled, shaking her head. It seemed like she was distracted, but I didn't think too much on it as I realised she wasn't as bugged out by the whole thing as I thought she would be.

"Thanks," I said, breathing out calmly. "Sorry, again. Come on. You're hungry, right? The appetisers here are practically main courses."

She didn't argue, so I grabbed her hand and led her to the appetisers table to make a small plate.

–

A few hours had passed and the evening was in full swing, with some rich people drunk enough to do very YouTube-worthy embarrassing things and others judging them immensely. It was my favourite bit at events like these.

Alycia seemed to be enjoying herself, I think. I introduced her to some more of my colleagues, as well as some parents I'd befriended when visiting the schools, and she was her lovely, charming self. Yet, something seemed a little off.

I didn't know what it was. Ever since she found out about who I actually was, she'd been acting quieter. Not distant, but quiet. I didn't think anything was going to change since I was clearly the same person, but she didn't seem to think so. And I was beginning to regret telling her at all because I was missing our signature back and forth very much the rest of the evening.

It got to a point where even Ty was noticing how off she suddenly seemed, so I decided to pull the brunette aside and talk to her. There was no point forcing her to stay tonight if she didn't want to.

"Is everything okay?" she asked with confusion when I pulled her into a quiet hallway outside of the ballroom.

I pursed my lips, feeling nervous the longer she stared at me. I was scared that she'd admit she was pissed because I lied, and I'd lose a friend.

"You don't want to be here anymore," I said, eyes flickering to the ground, unable to hold her gaze. "It's because I lied to you, isn't it?"

I heard her sigh quietly and I knew I'd made a mistake.

"Alycia, I'm sorry," I apologised again, meeting her eyes. "I shouldn't have lied. I–"

"Y/N, no, it's not that," she cut me off, shaking her head.

I relaxed my shoulders subconsciously. "It's not?"

It was her turn to look nervous, as her eyes looked up to the ceiling with discomfort. "It's just– you had to go and tell me and ruin everything..." she mumbled with agitation.

I furrowed my eyebrows. "I– er... huh?"

She clenched her jaw, eyes meeting mine. "I had it all planned out, for God's sake. Now it seems like I only like you because you have money and that's far from the truth."

I widened my eyes, second-guessing myself. "You like me?"

Alycia groaned aloud, rolling her eyes. "Of course, you idiot!"

Still unable to believe it, I asked, "Like, like like me?"

She glared at me. "Yes, but now you've–" She shoved me in the shoulder, "–gone and ruined it because the timing is all wrong and now you're gonna think I'm using you!"

My stomach was raging with butterflies as a grin appeared on my lips. I couldn't help myself as I realised she liked me back. I'd been teasing her this whole time, but the feelings were real. I never actually thought there was a chance she'd reciprocate.

"Y/N, please be serious," she said, crossing her arms and staring at me with a firm expression.

She looked really freakin' cute with her jaw tense and eyes darkened with annoyance.

"Just to clarify," I said, ignoring her for a second, "the other day, when you thought Ty was my boyfriend... that was you being jealous, right?"

Alycia breathed out slowly, uncrossing her arms and straightening up. "Are you really gonna make me say it?"

My childish grin was on my lips, making her roll her eyes and sigh.

"Fine. Yes. I was jealous. You happy? Now look. I know you might think that I–"

I moved forward and kissed her, cutting her off from saying anything else. I closed my eyes and felt her slowly reciprocating, lips moving against mine. Her hands rested on my shoulders as I caressed her cheek with mine, the other pulling her closer by her waist.

I'd wanted to kiss her for so long, but I was so afraid of the rejection. But here was she was, kissing me back...

I pulled away when we needed air, opening my eyes and feeling my lips tingle. I was submerged in green instantly, a smile curling on my lips. Every inch of my skin felt like it was on fire, in the best way possible.

"I feel like you did that to shut me up," she spoke first, voice soft as she pulled back to take a breath.

I chuckled. "Partially."

She licked her lips and stared at me expectantly.

I stared at her with serious eyes, grin fading into a smile. "Alycia, I know you'd never use me. You're not like that. I mean, you put up with me for this long, didn't you?"

She opened her mouth to speak, but I cut her off.

"Look, I only told you the truth about my family because I realised I wouldn't have a chance with you," I admitted, and saw she was hanging onto my every word. "I thought it was best to come clean. If I could only have you as a friend, I wanted to do so right. I trust you to know the truth and still like me for me. You liking me back doesn't change that. Just makes me extremely lucky."

She cracked a small smile, but still seemed uncertain. "Are you sure?"

I couldn't help but laugh. "Do you want me to not trust you?"

"No, no, I'm not– ugh." She was flustered, her cheeks going an adorable pink colour. "I just want you to be sure. I know how I feel about you... I know that was before you told me. I mean, I don't really care about any of this." She motioned around her. "You were annoying at first, but it grew on me. I just... I want you to be sure."

I smiled genuinely, stepping forward and grabbing her hands. "I'm sure. Also, you know you can never live this down now, right? You like me."

Alycia raised an eyebrow playfully. "You can't tease me about liking you, you idiot."

"Why not? You were supposed to hate me, remember?"

She rolled her eyes, though a smile tugged at her lips. "I never hated you."

"Pretty sure you filed a noise complaint against me," I recalled, pulling her closer to me, getting goosebumps when her body touched mine.

She gave me a knowing look. "That was because your volume was way too–! You know what? Forget it."

I grinned, staring at her even though she was avoiding my eyes to prove a point.

"You're doing it again," she mumbled, finally lifting her gaze to meet mine.

"Doing what?"

"That thing," she said, as if I should know. "Where you act like you've won this thing between us."

I chuckled. "Once again, I didn't think there was anything between us. Well, I guess now there is... if you want there to be?"

Alycia wrapped her arms around my neck, eyes looking between mine thoughtfully.

"I'm going to regret this, aren't I?"

"Probably."

She breathed out, a small smile playing on her lips. "Yeah. Probably."

She leaned forward and closed the gap between us in a soft, sensual kiss. I closed my eyes and revelled in her warmth whilst wondering how on Earth I got this lucky.

#alycia debnam carey #alycia debnam carey imagine #alycia debnam carey x reader #alyciajasmin #Alycia debnam carey x you

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aloysiavirgata · 4 years ago

Text

Henry Compilation

@perplexistan is an outstanding human who compiled all my little Henry ficlets into one document for me. So here it is, for your perusal. It all began with this:

Anonymous asked: Would scully consider remarrying if she wouldn't work it out with mulder in season 11? ;)

@kateyes224

As long as Mulder is around, I don’t know that she’d be willing to start from scratch. But that makes me very sad for Scully. If she and Mulder did decide that they couldn’t be together, I would want for her to find someone who loved and appreciated her and made her feel completed, even if that person wasn’t Mulder. I just think the ways that she and Mulder have been rent apart by this life mean that their torn edges fit together in a way that makes them as whole as they can possibly be.

AV:

She gets the younger two out the door in time for the bus, backpacks bouncing as they run down the block. Their sister had left well over an hour ago, driving herself to school for early lacrosse practice. Scully shuts the door once Alice and Simon join the cluster of children trooping along the sidewalk. Everyone knows there is safety in numbers.

The dog, a half-grown keeshond, trots over in response to the breakfast noises. “Here, Wicket,” Scully says. “It’ll make your coat shiny.” She scrapes leftover eggs into his dish before fitting the greasy plates into the dishwasher.

Footsteps on the stairs, and Scully smooths her hair back.

“Morning,” Henry says, grabbing a nectarine from the bowl. He wears only striped pajama pants. “Thanks for getting them out the door.”

“Mmm, not a problem. You almost never get to sleep in.” She smiles, tips her face up to his.

He kisses her, and Scully tastes toothpaste and Listerine. “You’re an angel,” Henry claims.

Not me, she thinks. But Joan is. Henry’s first wife, the mother of his children, the lover of keeshonds, the gardener of exotic bulbs, is dead and beyond reproach. Scully finds her harmless, though occasionally irritating. The children find her flawless.

Henry pours them each a cup of coffee, fixes hers exactly how she likes. Scully settles onto a bar stool to savor it.

“Good?” he asks.

“Perfect.”

Henry beams.

She watches her husband as he putters around the kitchen, dumping coffee grounds into the composter, putting frozen fruit into the Vitamix. His back is broad and muscular in the buttery morning light, his silver-flecked hair gleaming.

“You eat?” he asks, after his smoothie has been whirred to perfection.

“Eggs with the kids.”

“They love you,” he says happily, if not accurately. “Can you believe we’re coming up on a year, Dana?”

She cannot. The wedding had been small. Quiet. Family attended, some of their friends from work. Joan’s parents, uncomfortably.

Mulder had sent flowers for her, gifts for the children.

Scully takes another swallow of coffee. “Paper anniversary, Henry. Hot date at Barnes and Noble?”

He walks over, wraps his arms around her from behind. Scully leans into the heat of his chest, her head on his bicep. She sighs with contentment as he noses her hair.

“I was thinking plane tickets,” Henry murmurs, nuzzling her neck. “Paris. Rome. Somewhere decadent. Between work and the kids you’re running yourself absolutely ragged, Dana. Joan’s parents can take the younger two, and Vivian can stay home by herself if she wants.”

Paris. All she has seen of Paris is the airport, eating overpriced pain au chocolat while Mulder argued with the ticket agent in his lousy French. They barely made their flight.

“Paris,” Scully muses. “I could do Paris.”

“Voulez-vous coucher avec moi?” Henry asks, purring in her ear.

She rolls her eyes. “So predictable.”

“I’m a tax attorney, Dana. I’m supposed to be predictable.”

She laughs a little. Predictable. Solid, predictable Henry with his beautiful children and his beautiful house and his beautiful wives. She has never heard him say a truly unkind thing about anyone. He is a charter Rotarian and a sucker for the wounded animals Simon brings home. He’s been unfailingly gracious to Mulder on the few occasions they’ve met. He’s a wonderful dancer.

“Predictable is good,” she assures him. Henry would never ditch her in strange motels or mix her up in a global conspiracy. Henry calls when he’s running late.

“You have time for a run before work?” he asks.

“I wish I did. I’ve got a consult with a family in about an hour.” Scully turns the bar stool, looking up at Henry’s green eyes. She takes his face in her hands, thumbing his jaw. “Paris sounds lovely. I’ll talk to Gwen about my schedule today.”

He kisses her palm. “You deserve Paris.”

Scully holds him close and doesn’t tell him how rarely anyone gets what they deserve.

***

From @mangokiwitropicalswirl

[I could NOT stop thinking about your short brilliant painful take on Scully’s marriage to Henry, and I woke up needing to write this. If you think it fits your vision of things in that universe, feel free to share!]

***

Note from AV: There are not WORDS to describe what a compliment this is, my goodness. <3 Thank you, @mangokiwitropicalswirl

***

On the morning Scully marries him, she takes a long look in the mirror as she smooths her hair and touches up her makeup. It goes without saying, without thinking, that she wishes her mother were here. Maggie would have cried to see her in the ivory dress, would have coddled the step-grandchildren, would have joined her elbows-deep in topsoil in his garden.

Everyone believes the day that you get married you’ll feel uniquely whole, blissfully free from uncertainties. Happy.

And she is. She catches her own gaze in the mirror and knows that she’s the only one who’d see the wistful mote of resignation in her eyes. But not a resignation of defeat, it’s one of understanding. She better understands at fifty now than she did at thirty that there are choices. Always choices.

Someone told her once that love flows through us like water, softening our edges the way water wears down sandstone, or even granite. It carves out space for itself inside of us, making us larger, widening the heart.

Mulder’s love had been a tumult, a raging river, a flood. It had opened her like a canyon, revealed a grandscape of dizzying heights and crevices inside her. It had split over into corners she herself had not explored. Together, their love had flowed and thrashed and roiled, until she was hollowed out like a deepend cavern, like a riverbank destroyed by sudden flood.

And then it had receded, slowly, like the bitter end of a geologic age.

The thin ribbon that still trickles through her even now was not enough to fill the newly-barren spaces. As years went on, the heart crumbled like loose rock, eroding like a monument to a long forgotten era.

Contrary to popular belief, love is not all you need. Sometimes you need therapy. And meds. And sometimes you need to let it go.

On the little card that came along with flowers there was just one word, “Always.– M”.

There were years she would have bristled at the word, hearing in it all the codependency and desperate possession that were the hallmarks of their bond. But she hears it now the way she knows he means it, with the openness of someone who will always be her friend. Before all of it, at the very heart of it, he had been her dearest friend.

When Henry came into her life, it crept up on her like the warm waters of a bending river. His love curled and soothed and nourished until she felt green and young.

In the mirror, she smiles the half-smile of a woman blessed to find there’s more of her to give. And more to know. She dabs perfume on each wrist and behind her ears, between the shadowed valley of her breasts. Beneath them in the hollow of her chest, she’s wider now and knowing, surprised and grateful she is able to bloom again.

***

Anonymous asked: So even though Scully and Henry have this perfect life, which I love, what kind of things do they fight about? Is Scully relieved it's not about conspiracy or monsters in the dark? How do they handle arguments and disagreements? Also, I love Mulder dearly but Henry is kind of perfect....which is a little scary but awesome at the same time.

They really don’t fight much. They disagree (Henry’s a bit more liberal than Scully) they annoy each other on occasion (he constantly fails to put his laundry in the hamper and she moves all the papers he leaves on the kitchen island) but fights? No, no fights.

N.B. Before anyone messages me to say how boring that sounds, let me explain that I have been with my husband for upwards of 17 years. In that time, we have had 2 fights. Like, ugly unpleasant ones. Lots of arguments and disagreements, but two fights. Our relationship isn’t boring, and I refuse to even entertain the validity of the notion that relationships need drama to be exciting.

One of the things I love best about Iolokus is that Rivka and Sally show Mulder and Scully figuring that out, that conflict isn’t necessary for intellectual stimulation.

***

Anonymous asked: So I know Mulder and Henry aren't hanging out playing poker together every Thursday night, but are there any occasions where they do find themselves in the same room? What was that first size-up like from either guy's perspective?

Scully has scheduled the dinner at a restaurant so it isn’t on anyone’s turf. Besides, Mulder’s house would be torture and she finds Henry’s elaborate kitchen somewhat daunting. She agonizes over reviews and menus, trying to eliminate as many variables as possible. Henry had tried to help, but her snippiness drove him off in short order. She is nauseous for a week beforehand, asking Henry if she had lost her mind and should cancel, asking Mulder the same.

“I want to meet him,” Henry says, passing her a glass of wine. “He’s part of you, so he’s important to me.”

“If this is to get my blessing, Scully,” Mulder says over the phone, “you already have it. But yeah, I’d like to meet the guy wonderful enough for you to ignore the fact that his job title contains the words tax and attorney.”

***

She puts on a black sheath dress, then decides it looks too much like the one from their movie premiere. My god, the movie…has Henry seen it? Or Viv? She is afraid to ask, and afraid not to know. She pushes the thought from her mind for now, pushes her and Mulder and that limo away. Scully rummages through her closet with increasing anxiety, finally settling on a burgundy pencil skirt and fitted navy sweater. Her hair is being impossible, and after half an hour with the curling iron, she opts for a French twist. She keeps her makeup light and tosses back a handful of Tums to quell the acid tide in her stomach.

Henry’s in jeans and a blazer, drinking coffee with Viv and her girlfriend. There’s a heated argument about Iron Man taking place. “You look great,” Henry says. “Ready?”

“No. But let’s do it anyway.” She plucks at invisible fuzz on her skirt.

He takes her arm and they head to the garage.

“Have fun at the circus, kids!” Viv calls after them.

***

They are seated at a table for four, Henry and Mulder facing one another, herself between. She holds a multigrain roll from the breadbasket in her lap, using her nails to pull out every tiny piece of millet, extract every last pumpkin seed. She drops them to the floor like daisy petals.

“I read your book,” Henry says. “Really impressive research. I recommended it to some colleagues.”

Mulder stirs his drink. “Thanks. Spend a lot of time on the dark web between billable hours, Henry?”

Scully kicks him lightly under the table, nostrils flared.

Henry chuckles. “No, I’m just a dilettante.”

The silence is thick and heavy as they peruse their menus, and Scully curses herself for this egregious decision. The back of her neck prickles, her face is hot and itchy. Moments stretch like saltwater taffy on a summer day.

“So, uh, Henry,” Mulder says at last, rubbing the side of his face.

Henry looks up. “Yep?”

“My, uh, my finances are pretty complicated due to some trusts and inheritances, plus my pension. The accountant I’ve been using is retiring. You think you could recommend anybody trustworthy?”

“Oh, absolutely. I’ve got a great guy in Alexandria,” Henry says. “He’ll save you a fortune.”

Mulder nods thoughtfully. “”I’ll put it towards my post-apocalyptic underground bunker. To which, of course, you’re all invited when the end times come upon us.”

Henry’s eyes crinkle at the corners, Scully sees, and her chest loosens. “We’ll bring a pie,” Henry says.

Mulder smiles. “Don’t let Scully make it. Great cook, lousy baker.”

The waitress comes for their orders, and they are chatting easily by the time the food arrives.

***

Henry sits outside on the porch, staring up at the sky. He names the constellations to himself as he sips a tumbler of Macallan. Dana perches on the arm of his Adirondack chair, knees drawn up to her chest.

“I like him,” Henry says at length. “Very funny guy.”

Dana nods slowly. “He is.”

Henry crunches an ice cube. “He’s still in love with you.”

“Does it bother you?’

He looks at her, ethereal in the moonlight. He is afraid at times that he will awake to find she has disappeared, burned off like the mist. “I want everyone to love you.”

She shakes her head, smiling. “Henry.”

“You love him too,” Henry says.

She hunches her shoulders, glances down. “Does that bother you?”

It might, he’s not sure. He felt the ineffable thing between them, but he understands the weight of history. “Love doesn’t have to be a zero sum game. Is there space in you for both of us?”

“It is impossible for more than one object to occupy the same space at the same time,” she says. “There are different spaces for each of you.”

Henry considers this. “Why’d you leave, Dana?”

She cants her face to the sky, eyes wide. “There’s a…a recklessness in me, Henry. A self destructiveness you haven’t seen.”

Is this where his gentle doctor ends and Mulder’s sure-shot partner begins? “Scully,” he says, trying it out.

Her eyes slide closed. “Don’t.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t…please keep going.”

“That part of me blooms with him. It thrives. And I knew, I know, I couldn’t live like that. I couldn’t survive it another year. And I…I ripped it away and left it behind. That’s the place in me for you, Henry. That wound. You and Viv and Alice and Simon; you heal me there.”

He hears the thickness in her voice, feels it rising in his own. “Dana,” he says roughly. He knows about wounds and empty spaces. A piece of him went into the dark earth with Joan.

She turns her head to look at him, a slice of her lovely profile. “If that’s too much, I understand. I do. It’s a lot to ask.”

He shakes his head. “I’d rather share you than lose you,” he breathes. “If I….if I can make you feel whole, that’s a privilege.”

She makes a small noise, a hiccup or a sob, and crawls into his lap.

“It’s okay,” he says, arms wrapping around her. He kisses her temples, her eyelids.

She curls tight against his beating heart.

***

They don’t bother with the superfluity of hellos. She calls, he answers, they talk.

“I liked him,” Mulder says, bouncing a basketball. “I didn’t particularly want to, but he seems like the kind of person people just like.” Mulder finds this a kind of character flaw of its own, but does not mention as much.

“Yes,” Scully says, her voice soft. “He is.”

“A tax attorney though, Scully. Ouch.”

“Mulder, please.” The note of actual pleading in her voice startles him.

“I’m sorry,” he says, sincere. “I know this isn’t easy.”

“It’s okay.”

He shoots the ball into the hoop at the end of the driveway. “Three-pointer,” he tells Scully.

“The crowd goes wild.”

There’s a long silence, just one another’s breathing.

“Listen, I don’t know if you know this, but I have a bit of a background in psychology and behavioral science.” He makes a foul shot.

“You don’t say.” There’s a smile in her voice.

“Truth. So I want you to know that my impression of Henry is that he, um, he knows the value of what he has. With you.” It hurts to admit this to her. To himself.

“Oh,” she breathes. “Mulder, I didn’t exp-“

“No, I just, let me finish. And he, um. He’s really a good guy. His life is, you know, well. Your life, really, I guess. It’s good. It’s what I wanted for you and I’m just, you know. I’m sorry I couldn’t give it to you.” His eyes sting.

Silence.

“Scully?”

“I’m here.”

He hears tears in her voice. “Okay. Okay, good. This is hard, but we, um. We’re always friends, aren’t we?”

“Of course. Always.” She sniffles.

“I feel like Henry, he understands that. He seems like he really wants you to be happy, that he’s not the jealous type.” Shit, shit why did he say that? “Not that he should be jealous, I don’t mean to imp-“

“It’s okay. And you’re right. He knows that I’m…that we…he knows how we are.”

Mulder swallows hard. “How we are,” he repeats.

They never say goodbye, either. The silence grows and drifts, then she finally disconnects the call.

***

Anonymous asked: What would you do if Henry rocked up in season 11 (other than sue)?

Wait for him to die, I guess. That’s Chris’s MO.

***

Anonymous asked: I love Henry. I know it's sad that in this fictional world she's not with Mulder, but as much as they deeply loved each other, I must admit it's lovely to read a world where Scully is appreciated in the day to day. I'm sure that perhaps Mulder did, but we didn't see too much of that. It felt like it was only when she was kidnapped or in hospital with cancer that he realised how much she meant to him. Henry is what she deserves, and it seems to make Mulder step up too. I'm on board for this.

I feel this way too. Listen, I am diehard MSR and was a shipper before fandom had even settled on the term! I am here for Mulder and Scully hobbling across that bridge like everybody else. 94% of what I write is MSR, either set within canon, or trying to give them a happier AU. Even in this story, their love is still palpable. I don’t think it works otherwise.

But the challenge of trying to create this unconventional AU in a way that is relatable to people is really enjoyable to me as a writer. MSR is inherently easy. It exists. It’s fun and satisfying as a fan, but it’s not a hard sell. This is really pushing me to approach the characters in a new way. I’m just immensely surprised it has gone over so well, and endlessly grateful to everyone who has been willing to engage in the narrative. Especially to @kateyes224 for the idea and @mangokiwitropicalswirl and my 10/13 anon for fleshing it out.

(10/13 anon, got your message. Just developing an answer in my head.)

—

Anonymous asked: How would Henry cope if Scully's cancer returned? And how would Mulder? OR... how would Scully cope if something happened to Mulder, but she isn't free to drop everything and go to him? Would she want to, or would she have closed the door on that reaction? How would Henry deal with that? #TeamHenlly

Henry paces the hallway outside her room, one hand to his forehead, the other holding his phone. “Pick up, pick up,” he mutters.

Mulder does, finally. “Henry?”

“Yes. Yeah. Listen, this isn’t easy, but I’m at the hospital with Dana and I’ve got some, uh, some bad news.” He is proud of his steady voice, his steady hands.

“Is she hurt? Is she sick?” Mulder sounds almost accusatory, as though Henry has been derelict in a simple task.

“She’s sick. They…” he runs his hand through his hair, circles around the vending machine again. “They found a mass in her sinuses, Mulder.”

The silence on the other end goes on too long. “Mulder, are you there?”

“Do you know her medical history?” The words are clipped.

“She told me, told the doctors this isn’t new. But she said something about a chip, about that scar on her neck. What the hell is going on here, Mulder? I’ve never pushed her about her past, but I’m seriously in the dark here.”

There’s a heavy sigh on the other end. “It’s not my story to tell you.”

Henry, his frustration peaking after hours of obfuscation and obliqueness from Dana, slams a fist into the wall. “She’s my wife, goddammit! Whatever you two have, Mulder, whatever it is, I never pried. I trust her and I trust you and I accept it. But you need to tell me, right fucking now, what I don’t know.”

People are staring, but he doesn’t care, he feels righteous and productive.

“Henry, I-”

“You tell me,” he growls, “or I will drive over right now and beat the living shit out of you. I have a lot of impotent rage I’d like to direct somewhere.” He’s not entirely sure he can make good on this, but he thinks adrenaline will give him an advantage.

Nothing.

“Mulder.”

Breathing.

“It’s medicine,” Mulder says slowly. “The chip in her neck is some kind of medicine that stops her cancer.”

Henry is appalled, “That’s it? That’s the secret you couldn’t share? Am I losing my goddamned mind? Call the fucking manufacturer right now and get another one, for Christ’s sake!”

“It’s not that simple,” Mulder says, his voice soft. “It’s, ah, not on the market.”

“You’re telling me you know of a medicine that treats cancer effectively and you can’t get it? Is it foreign? Illegal?”

“It was a sort of custom design,” Mulder says.

“Give me an answer, a real answer. You two and your doublespeak, I swear to god…” He’s gripping his hair by the roots.

“Fine, Henry. Here it is.” There is anger in Mulder’s voice now, and Henry finds it satisfying. “Her cancer was specifically engineered to manifest if she ever took the chip out. The chip is a tracking device. I don’t know why it stopped working, but before you come over and kick my ass, you have a lot of fucking questions to ask your wife.”

Henry’s mind is reeling. He leans against the wall. “A tracking device?” he repeats. “Engineered cancer? How do you engineer cancer? Why do you engineer cancer?” He can’t process this, not this and Dana asleep in the hospital bed with a demon behind her eyes.

“Shit,” Mulder breathes. “Goddammit, Henry. How bad is she?”

“She’s weak, very thin. She kept saying it was the flu, you know how she is. But she had a few nosebleeds and went in. And here we are.”

“Yeah, I know how she is,” Mulder says, and Henry hears the pain in his words.

“There’s a man,” Mulder says. “Who knows about the chip. He might, uh, he might arrange a deal.”

Henry is baffled, but tries to swim with the current. “A deal? Why would an- never mind. Call him. I’ll pay whatever he wants, no questions asked.”

“Oh, I don’t think you can pay what he’ll want,” Mulder says. The words are measured, heavy. “But I can.”

The line goes dead.

***

Anonymous asked: In the Henry universe, how does Scully react when Mulder finds someone else?

She’s sorting lunch components for the twins into plastic bins in the refrigerator; bags of chips and carrot sticks and foil-wrapped triangles of pizza. Her phone rings as she picks up a webbed bag of clementines.

“Hey,” Mulder says, his voice a warm pulse.

Scully lets the oranges slump back onto the counter. “Hey.”

“I’m, uh, I’m headed up to New York to talk to my publisher this afternoon,” he tells her.

She can hear the noisy old dishwasher going in the background, imagines Mulder fidgeting at the kitchen table. There’s a chair with a wobbly leg he likes to rock in. “They still talking about the miniseries?”

“Yep.”

Scully chews her lip, considering. She tucks the phone against her shoulder. “That’s not why you called, though.”

A long pause. “No.”

“Okay.” She shuts the fridge and begins assembling sandwiches on the counter. Teasing information from Mulder can take a quiet, steady patience.

“I met someone,” he says at last.

Scully sets the knife down, knuckling the cool granite. “Did you?”

“I just, you know, I wanted to call you. You were very open about Henry so I thought I should extend you the same courtesy.” In the background, the squeak of the chair leg.

“Mulder, that’s great. I’m happy to hear it.” She is, she is, she doesn’t want him alone.

He coughs. “Thanks. Um, well, I guess that’s it, really. I should go pack.”

“No!” she exclaims. “Mulder, I need some detail.” As a friend. As a concerned friend who is wary of his general taste for women who will betray him.

“Oh, Scully, you don’t have t-“

“Really, I do. Let’s have the 411.” She hopes she sounds casually interested, and begins spreading peanut butter on a slice of bread.

Mulder guffaws. “The 411? Scully, let me tell you about the internet.”

She blushes, waves her hand. “Whatever. Details, something.”

“Ummmm…”

Scully imagines him pacing now, tossing and catching an invisible baseball. “You know, it’s okay, I don’t want to pressure you.”

“No, hey, I’m sorry. Just trying to generate a quick dossier. Uh, well, her name is Elizabeth. She works for the EPA, coastal ecology.”

“Science nerd, huh?” she says, and immediately wishes she hadn’t. She swallows, stabs a spoon into the jam jar.

“Yeah,” Mulder says. “She does something with zebra mussels and ship ballast water that I need to brush up on.”

“Probably invasive species in coastal communities. I’ll give you a crash course if you like.” She picks up the sandwich to tuck into a plastic bag.

‘It’s okay. I’ll Google it; you remember that internet thing I mentioned before. It’s got lots of stuff on it.”

She is stung, and words sticks in her throat like lumpy oatmeal. “Oh,” she manages. “Okay, then.”

Mulder coughs again. “I just figured you’re pretty busy, with work and the kids and everything.”

“Yeah. Yeah, it’s pretty crazy.” She toys with the jam jar, rolling it in her hands. It is cool against her palms “Well, you know, enjoy your research. Look up copepods too.”

“I will.”

Seconds tick by on the kitchen clock.

“When’s the second book out?” Scully asks. She picks up the sandwich, zipping and unzipping the plastic bag.

“Around Thanksgiving, I think. You want an advance copy? I’ll sign it for you.”

She laughs. “No, don’t give them away. I want to buy it, boost your sales.”

“In that case, stock up and send them out with the Christmas cards. Even mine.”

“I’ll pre-order on the….what did you call it? The in-ter-net?”

Mulder chuckles. “Have them shipped right to your house, or take your velocipede down to the book-seller to fetch them.”

“Okay.”

A lengthy pause, but they don’t hang up.

Scully finds that the sandwich in her hand has been wadded into a dense ball, peanut butter and jam squeezed all over the inside of the bag. She hastily shoves it into the trash can. “Mulder, um, when you get back in town, why don’t you give me a call? We’d love to have dinner with you and Elizabeth.” She says it so smoothly she believes it.

“Oh,” he says. “That sounds nice, that sounds really good. Yeah.”

“Okay.” She squeezes her eyes closed, her stomach sour.

Mulder breathes for a long moment. Then he says, “Well, hey. I’ve got to get going, but thanks for listening. I know how busy you are.”

“Yeah,” she says. “Sure.” She holds back this time, doesn’t say she always has time for him.

An empty silence now, the call disconnected.

Scully sits on a bar stool, hands clasped beneath her chin, elbows on the breakfast bar. She sees the absurd expectation she’s held onto, the cruelty of it. Mulder like a sundial in the garden of her life, static and reliable as she moves through the seasons around him. Ticking off her hours as she spends them.

Scully goes to the sink and slaps cold water on her face. She sees Elizabeth in her mind’s eye. Lanky and brunette, of course. Long legs and khaki shorts, probably lots of trips to REI. She assigns her a sporty dog too. Maybe with a bandanna.

She says a prayer for his happiness, and leaves it to God to sort out what exactly she means by the idea.

***

Anonymous asked: 10/13 Henry anon here, dearest Mrs. Virgata and mangokiwimagicswirl, either or both of you please feel free to flesh it out. It delights me my little something could turn into a bigger something. I'm not above begging. *begs*. Look what you all did, my MSR heart really does belong to MSR, but I can carve a little spot out for Henry/Scully/Mulder. Mulder is earth, Henry is the stick, Scully is Archimede's point bc we all know she makes the choices and drives the consequences.

A Saturday in late September, and Henry and Scully sit on the back porch watching the twins lob lacrosse balls at Viv. She catches them expertly, flicking her wrist to send them flying back at her younger siblings. They dodge them, squealing and chasing one another and Wicket, who makes off with one on occasion. He exposes his preposterously fluffy belly in hope of scratches.

Scully pours herself a glass of sangria, pours Henry another two inches of Macallan. She is pleasantly buzzed, work blurring out of her mind’s eye. Henry is somewhat more than buzzed, she suspects. Joan’s parents had been over, which exhausts him.

“There’s, ah, there’s something I want to discuss with you,” Henry says. “And with a bit of liquid courage, there’s no time like the present.”

Anxiety rises in her like a barometer. “That’s quite a lead-in,” she says, keeping her tone light while her stomach churns.

“Sorry,” Henry replies. “It’s not, it’s nothing bad.”

“Let’s have it, then.”

“Mulder’s birthday dinner,” Henry begins. “I know what he…I know that you two are…dammit.“ He trails off in frustration.

The anxiety is now constricting her throat. “Henry?”

He shakes his head, still watching his children. “What I’m mangling here is that if you, um, if you ever felt a need to, you know, take a night off from all this-“ here he nods at the yard, “I’d not hold it against you.”

Comprehension begins to dawn, and Scully is aghast. “You’re not suggesting that I….no. Henry, no.”

Henry shrugs. “It’s not a moral failing, okay? I asked you once if there was a place for both of us in you and you said there were two places. And I said I’d rather share you than lose you. I know a marriage is a compromise, and I’m, you know, I’m trying to figure out what that looks like here. You took on three kids and a guy with some heavy emotional baggage.”

Scully’s cheeks burn. “So your solution is that I offer myself up to him as a birthday gift? Is this some kind of magnanimous man-to-man gesture, sharing your woman as a show of friendship?”

Henry turns to her now, mouth open. “Oh god, oh….shit. I had no idea it sounded that way. I’m sorry.”

Scully drains half her glass in one gulp. “This is the life I committed myself to, Henry. It’s not a job I need a sick day from, and you and the kids aren’t baggage, for heaven’s sake.”

Henry stares into the yard, watches Wicket play tug of war with Viv’s lacrosse stick. “I’m terrified of losing you,” he says. “Partially because of Joan but partially because…” he shakes his head.

“Because what?”

He swallows the rest of his Scotch. “Because there are these dark places in you I can’t see, places that have been redacted. And I told you I wouldn’t pry, and I won’t, but I have this fear of them. That they’ll swallow you one day, and you’ll just disappear. I guess I hoped that if I offered you a night to visit, so to speak, you might not feel tempted to run away to them.”

Her sinuses burn. “Henry…”

“I wasn’t trying to offer you to Mulder as a birthday gift, Dana, that’s really fucking sick. But I was trying to offer you a night in the parts of yourself you haven’t let me go to yet.”

She reaches for his hand and grips it hard. “I’m sorry,” she says.

“A vacation home,” he says, smiling weakly at his own joke. He squeezes her hand back.

“I don’t need a vacation,” she assures him. She tugs Henry closer, pulls him down so that his head is resting on her lap. His legs dangle over the armrest of the wicker settee.

“I just want you to know I meant it,” he says.

She nods. “I do. But you can’t keep me by giving me away.” She traces his face with her fingertip, his eyelashes and tragus and philtrum. She etches him deeper into her heart.

***

Anonymous asked: Original 10/13 anon here, I suppose i'm down for consummation of free pass too. Heck, you can do both versions for all I care!

aloysiavirgata:

Oh @perplexistan and @kateyes224…

A continuation of this

***

It’s sticky outside, a mid-Atlantic fall day not fully committed to the reality of October. A late season hurricane has been stirring up the ghosts of summer off the Carolinas, the air close and heavy. Scully steals hairpins from Viv’s vanity to help tame her bun, and is reasonably pleased with the results.

It’s just Mulder, she tells herself, zipping up her navy dress. It has a boatneck that shows her clavicles to good advantage, cap sleeves that feel feminine but not frilly.

It’s just Mulder, she thinks, choosing beige kitten heels that lengthen her legs, swiping Lancome’s Perfect Fig across her mouth. She skips perfume.

The sky is thick with shaggy clouds, the sun slipping away nearly undetected. Scully slides behind the wheel of her car, and leaves tire tracks on the grass when she swerves backwards down the driveway.

***

The restaurant is new and well reviewed, with nothing served in Mason jars or on slate tiles. She asked when she made the reservation, as these things leave Mulder snarky and cross.

Mulder arrives at the table a few minutes after her, wind-whipped, mud on one of his loafers. They embrace, a quick kiss on each cheek, and she breathes shallowly. It would not be good to inhale the scent of him.

“Happy birthday,” she says, settling into her chair, napkin spread across her silken lap. “I’m sorry the weather’s so ominous.”

“I blame you entirely.”

She smiles. “I should have e-mailed Holman Hart, called in a favor.”

Mulder peruses his menu. “Next time. I’m just glad you got to come out and play for an evening.”

Scully frowns. “This isn’t the fifties, Mulder, and I’m not a kept woman. Don’t make it sound like that.”

He is taken aback, but nods. “I’m sorry. You’re right.”

Scully sighs. She doesn’t want to begin like this. “It’s fine. I’ve had a long week and I’m a bit snappish. I just don’t want things to be strained between us because of….well. It’s your birthday, Mulder.”

A waitress comes by with a bottle of champagne in an ice bucket. She sets it on the table, handing them each a flute.

Scully looks at her in confusion. “I didn’t order this,” she says.

The waitress nods her head towards Mulder. “The gentleman called earlier, ma’am.”

The gentleman denies this, and the waitress furrows her brow. “Sir? Someone called earlier and ordered this for Dana Scully’s table. For a birthday celebration.”

Scully blushes, twists her wedding ring around her finger. “It’s fine, thank you,” she tells the waitress. “Just a misunderstanding on my part. Sorry for the confusion.”

“Shall I open it?”

“Please.”

The cork makes a wonderful popping sound, the champagne golden and sparkling as it flows into their glasses. The waitress tucks the bottle back into the ice before she leaves.

Scully stares at the silver bucket, the frost of condensation on it, the mounds of crystal ice. She runs a fingertip along the rim of her flute, making it squeak.

Mulder raises his glass in a toast. “Many thanks to Henry,” he says, without a trace of irony.

***

Mulder is clacking his empty mussel shells like castanets. The champagne is gone and so is half a bottle of Sancerre. The candle on their table has burned low.

Scully is laughing helplessly, her napkin pressed to her mouth.

“I can’t believe you never told me this,” she manages. “The Spanish ambassador, how could you?”

He drops the shells back into the bowl, grinning. “It’s was university and I was an asshole. Plus my girlfriend was semi-psychotic. Phoebe,” he clarifies.

Scully groans. “Oh, God. Phoebe. She was a mess, Mulder.”

He laughs. “Gorgeous though. My main requirement at the time.”

She wipes her eyes. “I’ll grant you that, yes. I was a little intimidated, I won’t lie.”

“You were looking pretty good too.”

Scully wrinkles her nose in reply.

A boom of thunder comes suddenly, making the chandeliers rattle. Seconds later, a jagged fork of lightning splits the sky. Gasps come from the other diners when the lights go out.

Mulder dribbles wine onto the candle, extinguishing it. “Pouring one out for my homie Zeus.”

***

They make a mad dash to their cars in the rain, Scully nearly diving into her SUV. She slides on the wet leather, blasting the air to dry herself off.

Across the lot she spots Mulder’s car, his battered old two-tone Land Cruiser 70. It has not been started. Worried, Scully drives over, hydroplaning on the slick asphalt. She parks parallel to him, oriented nose to tail.

She sees him through the downpour, scowling at his phone. She waves to get his attention and he frowns at her, shrugs. A round of hurried texting reveals that the car won’t start and he’s got at least a 2 hour wait per the AAA app.

Scully reaches behind her seat for the huge wood-frame golf umbrella she keeps there. Opening the door, she unfurls it into the storm. The wind nearly drags it from her hands. She makes it to her trunk before Mulder sees what she’s doing and leaps from his car.

“Are you out of your fucking MIND?” he yells into the wind.

“JUMPER CABLES,” she shouts back. “YOU CAN’T STAY HERE FOR TWO HOURS!” Scully rummages around, then hoists them victoriously.

Thunder crashes, and the hail begins.

Mulder shoves her into his open driver’s door and she clambers into the passenger seat so he can get in. Hail the size of quail eggs bounces in with him.

He slams the door, panting. “You have a degree. In physics.”

She twines the cables around her hands, shamefaced. “I know.”

Mulder starts to laugh. He rests his head on the steering wheel, shaking with laughter while hail rattles around them.

Scully glares at him. “Let’s agree it wasn’t my finest moment, okay?”

He catches his breath. “No, it’s fine. It’s good. I appreciate the laugh. But we picked the wrong car for this little adventure.” He clicks the useless ignition to demonstrate.

Scully groans. “My phone’s in mine too.”

Mulder peels his jacket off, his shirt mostly dry underneath. “Scully, you’re soaked. I’d offer you my jacket, but…” He holds it up, letting it drip water onto the floor.

“I’m good,” she says. “Just turn on the - oh.”

“Yeah.”

She folds down the visor, inspecting herself in the mirror. She looks like the undead prom queen from a slasher flick, straggling hair coming loose, smudged rings of waterproof mascara.

She snaps the visor back up.

Mulder brightens. “I think there’s a blanket in the foot locker. I’ll climb back and get it.”

She waves him off. “I’ll get it, I’m smaller.” Scully turns, her silk dress clinging like wet paper as she wriggles. She and Mulder studiously ignore her hip against his shoulder. Her shoes drop beside him to the floor.

She squelches into the back, feeling clammy and uncomfortable. There is loose grit on the floor, which hurts her knees. She tugs a quilted moving blanket from a folded-up seat onto the floor, then opens the foot locker. Inside is his old Navajo blanket. She touches it, smiling.

“You find it?” Mulder asks.

“Yeah, thanks,” she says. Scully unfolds the blanket and wraps it around herself. It smells of dry wood and motor oil, GoJo hand cleanser. “I forgot how much room there is back here with the side seats up.”

He adjusts the rearview mirror to see her, and they hold one another’s eyes for a beat. Scully looks away, watches the storm shred leaves off the trees. She twists her wedding ring.

Mulder climbs through the seats, grunting, then sits next to her on the moving blanket. “I texted Henry,” he says. “Let’s him know you’re safe, just waiting out the storm. Thanked him for the champagne.”

“I appreciate that,” she says, touched

“I’d want him to.”

Scully pulls the blanket tighter.“I’m sorry your birthday is going like this,” she says.

He looks at her, surprised. “Good dinner, great company, spooky storm. You wanna tell ghost stories and creep each other out?” He bumps her shoulder.

Scully smiles. “I’m don’t think we can surprise each other anymore,” she says softly. “We’re like two magicians trying to show each other card tricks.”

“You can always surprise me,” he says.

She holds her left hand out for his inspection. The diamonds reflect scraps of yellow streetlight. “This?” she asks.

Mulder shrugs, looks away.

Scully touches the rings. “He told me to go home with you tonight if I wanted. He said he would understand, like shore leave. That it wouldn’t change anything.”

Mulder swallows, closes his eyes. The air is becoming steamy with evaporate, the windows fogged. The smell of damp silk, damp wool hangs about them.

“I told him I couldn’t, that I didn’t need it anyway. And that I certainly wasn’t going to offer myself to you like a gift from the lord of one manor to another.” She reaches out to touch his face, to turn it towards her.

“Don’t,” he rasps.

“Mulder, look at me.”

He shoves her hand away, stares at her. “I’m getting in your car,” he says. “Before we do something really stupid.”

Scully drops the Navajo blanket to the floor. She unpins her hair, lets it fall down her sticky neck to just past her shoulders. She sits back on her heels, wet dress like seaweed. “Mulder.”

“One of us needs to get the fuck out of this car,” he whispers, his voice ragged. He doesn’t move.

She unzips her dress, but it doesn’t fall away like she’d planned. It clings to the tops of her arms, the tops of her breasts, the back gaping open. Gooseflesh rises.

“I thought I could get out of the car,” she says. “ But maybe a joyride every so often isn’t such a bad idea. Henry says it’s not a moral failing, Mulder. And I’m quoting directly.”

They stare at one another, her face tipped up, her mouth swollen. Mulder gazes down at the shadow between her breasts.

Scully runs her tongue across her top lip.

He reaches forward, slides his hands down her shoulders, scraping the ruined silk away. His breath, his heart, are louder than the thunder.

She is bare to the waist now, her chest heaving, her dress a puddle between her hips and the quilted grey blanket. Her nipples ache.

Hail smashes against the windshield, and the wind howls.

She unbuttons his shirt, her fingers trembling, and his chest is deeper, broader than she remembered it. His scars are just as she left them.

Scully moves closer, her breasts grazing his skin when she kisses his neck, bites at it. He shudders, fingers tangling in her hair.

She cups his erection through his trousers.

“I thought you said…” he gasps, hands sliding down to plane her back.

“I thought I meant it,” she mumbles, unbuckling his belt, unfastening his fly.

“I wish you had,” he groans when she pulls his boxers to his knees.

Scully lays back on the blanket, her dress still rucked around her abdomen like a painting of Venus. She reaches beneath it to pull her underwear down, kicks them away.

Mulder is on top of her then, his hands on either side of her head, his shirt tenting her torso. He moves one hand against the hot skin between her thighs, comes away slick from even so little contact.

She whimpers as the storm roars, and he presses his wet fingers to her mouth.

“Scully,” he says, his eyes searching hers. “We can’t undo this, you know that.”

She knows, she knows, she saw what happened to Daniel’s family, what she had done.

“Please,” she says, raking her manicured nails down his back, her pelvis arched against his. “Please.”

Mulder is not her conscience, and enters her in one thrust.

He cries out to her god.

***

It’s past one when she stumbles into the kitchen, past one by the little clock above the sink.

Henry jumps up from the ladderback chair. “Dana, thank God,” he says. “Mulder called about 45 minutes ago, said you’d left, but I couldn’t reach you.”

Scully holds up her phone, the screen black. “Ruined in the rain,” she says. She slumps into a chair, drained. “And the hail cracked my windshield.”

Henry watches her, concerned, then takes his robe off. “Look at you, you’re soaked.” He tucks the thick cotton around her, smoothing her hair out of her eyes. “Dana?”

She leans up, kisses him. “I’m sorry, the roads were awful and I’m exhausted. I don’t remember a storm like that since Sandy.”

He runs his thumb over her cheekbone, smiling at her freckles. ”I’m just glad you’re safe.”

Scully nods, pressing his palm to her face, to her lips. She’d stood outside in the rain, after the storm burned itself out, to wash the yeasty scent of sex from her pores. She’s afraid, somehow, that it has lingered. That she is marked, tainted forever.

“Probably too much wine, too,” she admits ruefully. “I drank more than my fair share and my head hurts.”

“I got his text,” Henry tells her. “I’m glad he liked it.”

Scully looks back at him, her heart aching with how much she loves him, how much she despises herself. “Oh, yes,” she replies. “He loved your gift.”

—

For everyone who asked.

***

He rattles up the driveway, the rattling a function of his automobile rather than the O'Keefes’ smooth asphalt. He parks under the basketball hoop, blocking the garage.

Fallen branches litter the yard. A shutter is down from one of the dormer windows, and the landscaping looks threadbare in places. A Japanese maple is split down the center.

Henry is gathering this debris from the storm, hauling it into a large pile in front of the house. He wears a Princeton sweatshirt and jeans, a Nationals cap pulled over his hair. He pauses in his work to greet Mulder. There are wet leaves on his hands.

“Didn’t expect to see you,” Mulder says, stepping over a rake to shake hands. “I was planning a drop-and-dash.” He holds out Scully’s wooden umbrella, her jumper cables.

“Well, you can just, um, set that stuff on the bench I suppose. Dana’s in surgery all day, but I can put it in her car when she gets home.” Henry jams his hands in his pockets, rocks back on his heels.

“Okay,” Mulder says. He lays the items on the bench, then surveys the yard with a kind of awe at the destruction. “Hell of a mess.”

Henry sighs. “I know they were calling for it, but I guess I wasn’t prepared for what we got. You know Dana has a big crack in her windshield.”

Mulder’s eyebrows go up, as this is news to him. “She okay?”

“Oh, she’s fine, but she was pretty shaken when she got home last night.” He studies Mulder carefully. “Must have been a rough drive home, huh?”

“Must have been.”

They are silent for a time.

“You need any help cleaning up?” Mulder asks. “It’s the least I could do after you were nice enough to buy me birthday champagne.”

Henry shakes his head. “No, thank you for the offer though. Glad you had a good night despite the weather. You’re hard to shop for, though Dana said you wouldn’t want a gift.”

Mulder looks away. “I don’t need much.“

Henry picks the rake up, leans on the handle as he presses the tines into the soft earth. “I love my wife,” he says. “And so do you. Some people might say that puts us at odds, Mulder.”

Mulder meets Henry’s gaze. “It would be an understandable, if incorrect assumption.”

Henry shifts. “I don’t want to be at odds with you. You….you’re her friend. You represent a part of her life I can never fully understand. When I lost Joan I thought I’d…well. I know we all have our ghosts.”

“Nothing happened last night, Henry.”

Henry stiffens. “Pardon?”

Mulder holds his hands out, open. “I feel like I need to just say it, okay? Nothing inappropriate happened. My battery was dead and we realized we both had too much to drink, so we waited the storm out in my car. Her phone got wet and ruined so she couldn’t call. She adores you and your kids and that Ewok of a dog.”

Henry closes his eyes for a long moment, then opens them. “Thanks for bringing her things back. I’ll tell her you came by.”

Mulder nods. He gets into his car and backs down the driveway, navigating fallen limbs as he does. On the radio, Tom Petty’s singing about his last dance with Mary Jane. Mulder turns the volume up and sings along.

***

Anonymous asked: We can just blame love for the Henry saga. Loved fucked all of them over. In Victorian times, after the free pass, Scully would've killed herself, Henry would remain unmarried for the rest of his life and refuse to talk about Dana, and Mulder would go on some stupid quest as penance and probably get himself killed.

I think I saw this movie and Gillian was very good in it.

***

Anonymous asked: I beginning to feel like eventually Henry is going to realize Scully's connection runs so deep emotionally that he's just not going to want to deal with it anymore. He says he's fine with how things are, how Scully doesn't tell him much about her past, that she is still very close to Mulder and gives her a free pass, but eventually he'll want more for himself in a relationship and leave her. In my mind, Scully want want that life and deserves it, but she unintentinally sabotages it.

I think you’re right. Scully has a deep self-destructive streak that rears its head on occasion. I think there’s a part of her that doesn’t feel like she deserves familial happiness after William, and that she doesn’t deserve Mulder or Henry. She’s almost created a perfect storm for herself where she can lose them both by capitalizing on their feelings for her.

***

Anonymous asked: How did Henry and Scully meet?

She wore navy peau de soie and nude stilettos, a beaded bag on her wrist. Her hair hung in sculpted waves just covering her collarbones.

She chatted, she mingled, and she ducked into the kitchen with unnecessary frequency to check the flow of the food.

“Everything’s fine, Dr. Scully,” the staff assured her each time. She pursed her lips, scanning the bison tartare and vol au vents. She sampled a grilled shrimp, nodding tersely.

Scully calmed herself with a third vodka tonic, a poor decision, she knew, but the bar was open and her nerves jangled.

“It’s perfect, Dana,” her intern said, a glass of white wine in her manicured hand. She was a child, scarcely old enough to legally consume her drink. Her father was Someone.

Scully smiled, thanked her. The crowd was too dense, the room too warm, and the talk too loud. There was drunken laughter, cloying perfume. She longed for home, for the reliability of solitude.

Next to her, a man in a grey suit ordered a 15 year Macallan, neat. Scully appraised him out of habit, saw the fine tailoring and coordinating pocket square. The haircut was good, the shoes excellent. She sensed funds for her pet project.

“Dana Scully,” she said, holding out her free hand.

He took it with his left. There was no ring. “Henry O'Keefe,” he said. “You’re on the committee, aren’t you?”

Scully blinked in surprise. “I am,” she said. “Have we met?”

He shook his head. “My firm’s the title sponsor and I recognized your name.”

She smiled in the way she knew people liked, all her teeth on display. “Impressive. Have you checked out the auction items yet?”

He nodded. “There’re a few things I’d like for my kids, I put in some bids. Quite a variety this year.”

“It’s much appreciated. I hope you win them.” She left a tip for the bartender, turning to go.

Fingers at her back, and she sucked in her breath at the ghost of a memory.

“Dr. Scully?”

She turned back to Henry O'Keefe. “Yes?”

He looked into his drink, then at her. “It’s a very good cause.”

“Yes.”

“Perhaps…perhaps you could tell me more about it. About how you got involved. It would be nice to hear from someone with passion rather than just a calculation for client endearment.” He offered her a hopeful smile.

Scully set her empty glass on the bar. “I’d love to,” she said. She rested her hand on his offered forearm, and waded back into the fray.

***

Anonymous asked: Henry story: if Mulder and Scully were asked to consult the FBI on a strange case (and a once only basis), what would happen?

She’s got a stack of patient files next to her, dog-eared, the corners grubby. Scully dutifully logs their contents into her computer, wishing the hospital would spring for software upgrades. Her phone rings, startling her from the mind-numbing task.

“Mulder?”

“There’s a case.”

She pecks at the keyboard. “I’m sorry, but the person you’re trying to reach is no longer available. Please hang up and try your call again.”

“I’m not kidding. You’ve gotta make arrangements, you’ve gotta-”

“Mulder, slow down. What the hell is going on? What case, why are you freaking out like this?”

A pause. “It’s Skinner.”

***

“I realize the government is slow with the red tape, but they are aware that they no longer employ you, correct?” Henry’s fingers tap his forehead as he paces the kitchen.

She traces her nail along the grain of the kitchen table. “Strictly consulting,” she says. “All behind the scenes. Probably no longer than a week.”

“Forgive me, but why you two? Why now?”

She looks down. “It’s classified.”

“Of course. And where will you be going? Can I know that at least?”

“Classified,“ she whispers, still not meeting his eyes.

Henry throws his hands in the air. “Of course. Of. Fucking. Course. Your whole life is classified, why shouldn’t this be too?”

Scully squeezes her eyes shut. Any other case and she would have said no. Anything else and she would have hung up on Mulder, gone back to her filing, eaten Viv’s outstanding lasagna, and gone to bed.

“Are you allowed to say no, even? I mean, you’re a civilian, right? They can’t force you to do anything.”

“I have to,” she says, heartsick. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. But I have to.” Her throat is tight.

Henry knuckles the counter, his back to her. “I have never asked you anything, Dana. Not a single goddamned thing. I agreed to leave the past behind and move forward, but it seems to keep popping up. Flying off with your ex husband to your ex job? I’m supposed to be fine with that when I know…” He shakes his head.

“When you know what?” she breathes, nauseous. She is afraid he will say it, even though she knows he knows.

Henry turns, his eyes hard. “Enough, okay? I know enough.” He considers her. “What would you do if I said no?”

She is taken aback, this possibility not having occurred to her. “I didn’t think we forbade each other things, Henry,” she says slowly.

“The requests are getting pretty one-sided. So what would you do?”

She presses her trembling hands flat to the table, palms cool against the lacquered wood. “I’d go anyway,” she says. “Not for anyone else, but for Ski-” she bites off the end of her sentence, furious with herself.

Henry sits across from her at the table. “For whom?”

She remains silent, shaken.

“Classified,” he says, with faint contempt. “Right.”

Scully chews her lip until the inside of it bleeds. Experience has taught her that there are reckonings, crossroads past which a life can take on an entirely new direction. She does not want this to be one of them.

They look at each other for what seems like a very long time.

“Henry,” she says carefully. “What I’m about to do is completely illegal, all right? I’m putting your life and my life in danger by telling you this. But you’re right; I owe it to you. To us.” She reaches across the table for his hand.

Henry nods. “I understand.”

He doesn’t; he can’t possibly, but she plows ahead before she loses her nerve. “FBI Director Walter Skinner has been taken by a militia group called the New Spartans. We believe he’s being held inside their compound, located near Casper Mountain, Wyoming.”

Henry gapes. “The Director. Of the FBI. Has been kidnapped?”

“So it would seem.”

Henry shakes his head, appalled. He withdraws his hand from hers to run through his hair.“Why isn’t this national news, why isn’t the, uh…who? The SEALS or the Army Rangers all over this? Why are they pulling two agents out of retirement to deal with a huge fucking disaster? Were you hostage negotiators, what?”

“No. But we….um. We, along with Director Skinner, have dealt with this group before. Mulder infiltrated them undercover at one point. August Bremer, their former leader, spared Mulder’s life at one point.” She looks at him sadly, reminding herself of all that he doesn’t know.

“Shouldn’t they be making demands, on TV or something, I don’t know…. Bragging?” Sweat beads on Henry’s brow, and he wipes at it with a paper napkin.

Scully shakes her head. “Maybe in a Bond flick. These are not people who want attention. They see themselves as the last true patriots and this is symbolic for them, for their followers. They don’t want to cut a deal with the federal government. They’re anarchists, and see no difference between the FBI and the KGB, Henry. This is a power move.”

Henry, dazed, shreds the paper napkin into minuscule fragments. “How the hell did they get him, anyway?”

In for a penny, in for a pound, she figures. What’s a little more treason between husband and wife? “A member of the group had been leaking plans to the Director for about eighteen months, all of it credible. The source claimed that the New Spartans had been working with anti-federal groups overseas to plan an attack that would take down power grids in 20 major US cities. Based on our prior dealings with the group, the Director found this consistent with their MO. He agreed to meet with the source to obtain satellite footage of the other groups’ headquarters. But it turned out to be a setup, an ambush. Four agents were killed and the Director was badly injured.”

Her husband looks ill. “My god,” he mumbles. “And you’re wading back into this? And I’m supposed to just nod and wave like it’s fine?”

“Just consulting, Henry, I promise.” She speaks softly, like she does when the twins wake up from nightmares they can’t remember. “I’m past fifty, and hardly in peak form. Intel only.”

“But why, Dana? Can’t someone else do this?” His voice is pleading.

“I owe him my life, Mulder’s life,” she says. “He risked himself to save us. And when I had no one, nothing, he was there.” She shrugs. “It’s a debt I never thought I could repay.”

Henry frowns. “No one and nothing? Dana, what happened to you?”

And now, Scully knows, now is the crossroad. She gulps air, takes her husband’s hands again in her own.

“I have a son,” she says.

***

@perplexistan asked: I need something from the Henry-verse. Something happy, though. Maybe Scully finally divorcing Henry and going back to Mulder. I know that's not the point of this AU, which I truly do love, but I just want it. Sue me.

You are asking a lot of our friendship. Can’t I just send you cookies?

***

Anonymous asked: Who is being eaten up by the repercussions of free pass more Mulder or scully?

Scully for sure. I think that, particularly post IWTB, he’s stopped taking responsibility for her decisions. I have a line in there where I say that Mulder is not her conscience, and I think he really feels that way now. She’s a grown woman capable of making her own choices. I think he knows what they did was wrong, but Scully isn’t some wide-eyed innocent anymore.

***

Anonymous asked: Does Viv know about Emily and William? Has she met/seen Mulder?

Henry doesn’t know about Emily and William. Viv has met Mulder twice. She thinks he’s a compelling, charming weirdo but, given her stepmother’s tendency to organize closets by color and make spreadsheets for every conceivable topic, she’s baffled that they were together as long as she’s heard they were.

***

For all the anons who have so sweetly asked after Henry, here’s a little intersection with Ghouli.

***

Simon and Alice run squealing from the living room, slamming into Scully when she comes around the corner from the kitchen.

She staggers back under their combined weight, bumping into the dog. “What’s wrong?” she asks, steadying herself against the counter.

Viv stalks in behind them, waving her phone. “I told them it was too scary,” she says. “But they hid behind the couch to read over my shoulder, and now they’re all freaked out.” She punches Simon in the arm. “Serves you right.”

“We’re never sleeping again,” Alice asserts, cuddling against Scully.

“Ever,” Simon adds, punching Viv back.

Scully rubs Alice’s small back, running her fingers through her thick hair. The irrational squabbles of children are still hard for her to follow, but she tries. “What was too scary?”

“Ghouli,” Viv says, crunching into an apple.

***

Scully is curled up on the chaise longue in her bedroom, lost in reading, when Henry comes in. He’s shed his suit for pajama pants and a Georgetown sweatshirt. Scully smiles at his mussed hair, an untidy silver haystack from wrestling with the twins. The nails of his left hand are painted with purple glitter polish.

“You get them settled?” she asks.

He rubs his face. “Yeah, finally. Alice is good, but Simon’s still pretty sure this Ghouli thing is coming to eat our family.” He sits at the edge of the chaise, reaching out to massage Scully’s neck. His hands cover her shoulders, thumbs meeting at the base of her cervical spine.

“Mmmmmm,” she says, rolling her head forward. “You’re going to distract me.”

“That’s the plan,” he says, trailing butterfly kisses along her jaw, then stops when he notices what’s on the screen. “What the hell is that?”

“Ghouli, apparently. Viv showed me the site. it’s pretty well done, actually. I can see why they’re freaked out.” The drawing of the monster has the clean, architectural lines of a scientific sketch.

Henry stretches out on the chaise, wrapping himself around her. Scully tucks herself into the solid warmth of his body and adjusts her laptop so that they can both see. Late night cuddling over images of cryptids brings back memories that she shakes off.

As though reading her mind, Henry says, “So whatcha thinking, Agent Scully? This is your former wheelhouse, right?”

She shrugs. “Not exactly It’s fascinating from a cultural standpoint, I suppose. I was talking to Viv about it. There’s an internet phenomenon called ‘creepypasta,’ kind of like urban legends with a paranormal bent. Some of them have taken on a sort of folk-tale quality.”

Henry tucks her head beneath his chin. “Is this that Slenderman thing? Those two girls in Wyoming?”

“Wisconsin,” Scully corrects. “Yes, like Slenderman.” She switches tabs, pulling up a new post. “Ceci n'est ce pas une pipe,” she reads, in her bad French.

“This is not a pipe,” Henry translates, musing. “What the hell does that mean?”

Scully taps her lips. “It’s a reference to a painting by Rene Magritte. He did, um, a painting of a pipe with this phrase below it, as a reminder that the symbol of the thing is not the thing itself. The map is not the territory. It’s a semiotic concept addressed by Alfred Korzybski.”

Henry kisses her temple. “You didn’t even have to Google that, did you?”

She, grins, admits that she did not.

“So hot,” Henry says. “Anyway, so what? Some emo kid who’s read too much Sartre decided to make some of this, uh, creepypasta stuff.”

Scully scrolls around some more. “Probably. It’s just impressively complex. Like, here. Look at this. It’s got a Baconian cypher, it references atomic bomb tests,it’s got sketches of RNA…which. That’s odd, actually.”

“Hmmm?”

“Well, the post with the RNA base is by a user named K/OMouse. I’m guessing it refers to knockout mice. Those are mice whose DNA has been altered, so why include RNA nucleotides instead of DNA? And an RNA nucleotide shouldn’t contain a diphosphate, but there are two phosphate groups here, plus that terminal oxygen should be double bonded to this carbon, or be a hydroxyl, or at least have a negative sign.” She doesn’t notice that her voice has grown agitated.

Henry has. “Uh, Dana? I think maybe you should avoid this site with Simon and Alice. Go play Neko Atsume for a while, hmmm?”

Scully takes a deep breath. He’s right, of course he’s right.

It’s nothing.

She closes her laptop, laughing a little. “I guess I’m Rever’s target audience.”

Henry grins. “I’ll try to distract you again.”

She ignores the little itch in her amygdala, in her entorhinal cortex, and follows him to bed.

***

It’s two AM and Henry is sleeping, bare-chested and peaceful on the other side of the room. Wicket, dense and furry, is sprawled like a wolf pelt over his feet. Their breathing is even and steady, a lulling hum in the back of her head. It steadies her like a heartbeat. Like the sea.

Her eyes flit back and forth between tabs, her face bathed in the blue glow. She looks at the post by K/OMouse again. The alien head, the RNA.

Alien head, RNA

RNA, virus.

Viral replication occurs via mRNA.

Something tickles her brain again, that little itch.

A virus.

An alien virus.

Purity control.

She grabs a notepad to organize her thoughts.

Baltimore classification?

Two phosphate groups = diphosphate nucleoside? Or non-terrestrial?

It is not the pipe - it is not the territory - what does Ghouli represent?

She looks at KO/Mouse’s post again, copies down the code he’s written. She begins working on it before seeing that user Elizabeth has helpfully done this work for her.

weseeyouwilliamvandekampweknowwhoyouare

andifweknowthentheyknowwhichyoushouldknow

crossroadswasonceanatombombandnowitisyou

WilliamWilliamWilliam pounds in her head.

Her vision is black, suddenly. And just as suddenly she sees a farm, idyllic and flat beneath an Ansel Adams sky.

Back to her room in a flash, gasping for air. Back to Henry dreaming in the safe warmth of their bed.

It’s 2:37 by her watch, but time is only a human construct. She pads out to the hall and down the stairs. She dials, and he answers on the third ring.

“Mulder, it’s me.”

#my fic #xfiles fanfic #xf fanfic #xf revival #au #henry

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purplesurveys · 4 years ago

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1044

survey by a7xbabii

Do you use e-mail often? I use it for eight hours, five days a week for work, so yes.

Do you hear any animals right now? I’m in a Starbucks inside a mall situated in the middle of a busy highway. It would be very unlikely to hear any animals right now.

Are you in a well-lit room? Sure, I’d say this establishment has good lighting. There’s no light directly above me unlike the other seats, but it’s okay in this case as I don’t want other people seeing me take surveys.

Is your trashcan full? The main one we use at home just got full, so the last time I checked this morning my mom was airing it out.

What was the last crunchy thing you consumed? My chicken barbecue sandwich from last night.

Did you view anything disturbing today? Hmm, I guess so? I wanted to entirely redo one part of my embroidery piece since I wasn’t happy with how I did it, so I had to remove the threads and stuff. When they were all gone the template was filled with holes and it looked like one of those trypophobia photos. I’m not personally disturbed by that phenomenon, but I know a lot of people are.

Are there any holiday decorations in your house? Yeah, we’ve had our Christmas tree up since the beginning of November. We also usually put a wreath up our door but idk why my mom didn’t this year.

When was the last time you had a terrible headache? Last night, because I had not eaten all day.

Have you recently put lotion on your hands? No. I don’t like the feeling of lotion, so I don’t apply it on me a lot, if at all.

Are you hungry? Not so much, actually. I don’t feel too hungry today; I didn’t even finish my breakfast and that’s the only meal I’ve had so far today, and it’s already 4 PM.

Is it rainy where you're at right now? No, it’s quite fair. The sun’s not too strong anymore because of the time, but it’s still very much bright out.

Do you carry a purse? If so, describe what it looks like. I take a wallet with me. It’s pink, made of fake leather, has three main slots inside, and it also has some tiny bite marks on the outer edges from when Cooper was a lot younger.

Is your cell phone on vibrate? For certain notifications only, like texts and Viber.

Is your dishwasher full? We don’t use a dishwasher.

When is the last time you saw someone you like/love. Around a week and a half ago.

Do you like to wear gloves? No, I find them too itchy and I don’t need to wear them anyway.

Is there a body of water near where you live? There’s a creek that passes through my village near the clubhouse area, if that counts.

What are your thoughts on Avenged Sevenfold? No opinion. I never listened to them; though I am reminded of this one mutual I used to have on Tumblr/Twitter. She used to be a wrestling fan and was a part of our main circle, but she gradually shifted her main fandom to Avenged Sevenfold. By the time she cemented her new interest she then went on a huge unfollowing spree of wrestling fans on her feed and she apparently PM’d each person she intended to unfollow, including me. I remember her explaining that she was now in a different fandom and was gonna have to stop following me which I found...kinda extra to be honest lmao because nobody does that, but I appreciate the effort to approach each one of us, I guess.

Are you wearing anything pink right now? Nope, but my wallet is pink and so is my keyboard cover.

Do you like to swim in the ocean? I prefer beaches, but sure.

What is the creepiest bug you've ever saw? Cockroaches.

Do you currently have split ends? I don’t think so.

When is the last time you used the bathroom? Around five hours ago when I took a shower before heading out.

Do you chew on your lip? Almost never.

Are you afraid of needles? For the most part yeah, especially syringes. I’m not afraid of them when I do my embroidery, but that’s the only time I feel comfortable with a needle.

What is the last thing you lost? A pen, I think.

When is the last time you saw a bald person? Five hours ago, when I said bye to my dad.

What car were you last in? [continued from two days ago] My own. I was driving home from the mall.

Do you like Batman? I tried to get into Batman and the whole shebang of comic books when I was a teenager, but I just couldn’t.

Have you ever played tennis? Never have, actually. I’ve always wanted to try.

Can you see a star shape in the room you are in? Probably not in my bedroom.

What are you sitting on? A pillow I’ve placed on my work chair so that it’s more comfortable. My parents got me a basic chair initially meant just for my internship, so it’s not the comfiest of chairs haha. But now that I have a job, a more suitable work chair is probably one of things I’ll have to invest on.

What is the last warm thing you touched? My chest felt itchy just a few seconds ago, so I was able to feel my skin scratching it.

Do you use hand sanitizer? That’s kind of a necessity now, so...

Where do you want to go in life? [continued from...I don’t even remember anymore] I don’t know if I even plan to make it past 30 at this point. I can’t answer this right now.

Are you sweating? No, I’ve been in air-conditioned rooms all day and it feels so damn good.

When is the last time you had to scratch an itch? A few minutes ago when my neck itched.

Are you in any kind of club or group that is trying to save animals? No, but I very much support the cause.

Who is the last blonde you saw? At work today I saw someone who had her hair dyed blonde.

Where were you two hours after you got up, and what were you doing there? I needed to go to the office today because my team and I needed to pack some stuff to seed to certain media. It was the first time I got to visit the place and it was sooooooo homey and pretty :) I wish we can be allowed to work in the office soon; it would be best for my mental health at this point.

Do you wish for world peace? Um, of course.

Have you ever played fetch with a dog? We were able to teach Cooper how to pick up items that we throw but he’s still slowly learning that he actually has to give it back to us, haha.

What is the nearest object that is wood? The table I am typing on is made of wood.

Do you use Netflix? Yes, we have a family subscription.

Does your house have a fireplace? No, we don’t. And I can confidently tell you all other houses in this entire country, and probably the whole of Southeast Asia, don’t.

Do you wake yourself up in the morning, or does someone else? I wake myself up. On important days, I’ll put an alarm on.

What kind of hoodie did you last wear? It was a white hoodie with a UP seal on the left side.

Do you play games on your computer? No, my laptop isn’t equipped for games. I tried downloading Sims 4 when they made it free for a few weeks back in 2018, but my laptop’s fan started whirring like crazy and the battery got drained super fast. The entire period of me booting it up and then deleting it took like, a literal 15 minutes.

What is the last video game that you played? Mario Kart 8 on the Switch. I want to get myself Switch games as gifts, but I’m just so stingy towards myself hahaha.

Have you ever pet a stingray? I’m 50% would like to at least once and 50% I know of what it did to Steve Irwin, and I’m not messing with them.

If you were on vacation, would you ever go to Ireland? It’s not a big item on my bucket list, honestly. I’d love to go to Ireland, but it would probably be a part of a bigger itinerary, like if I decided to take a trip to that part of Europe.

Are you logged into Myspace right now? I haven’t been on there for more than a decade.

Did you have anything bad happen to you today? Yeah, but they’re stuff that happened at work that are a little hard to explain.

Have you ever been to New York? Nope. I’d love to take a trip there.

Do you use the term "lol" if you don't have anything to say? Not really. I use it in the end of my messages more so that I don’t sound mean.

Should you be sleeping right now instead of taking this survey? Hell no. It’s a Friday night so the last thing I want to be doing is sleeping.

Can you truly say you hate anyone? I don’t think so. I greatly dislike my brother, but I guess I don’t hate him. I find it too strong a word.

Have you ever disected a baby pig in a class at school? Not a piglet, no. We dissected an earthworm, a fish, and eventually a frog.

What brand of dish liquid do you use? A local brand you wouldn’t recognize.

When is the last time you ate a Hershey Kiss? It’s probably been more than a year. It’s not my favorite candy.

Do you ever feel unappreciated? Yes.

Do you currently have any blemishes on your face? No. My pimple finally went away, hallelujah.

Who is the last baby you held? My cousin who is now 13 years old. I’m too anxious to hold babies; I always feel like I’d drop them so I find myself declining even when I have the chance to hold one.

Are you a lover? I guess.

Do you use smileys often in text convos? Yes. Not a lot of people like them but it’s better to sound friendly and approachable than stoic.

Do you have the Google toolbar on your computer? Like...Chrome? I have the program, yeah. It’s my default browser as well.

Do you like Sunkist? I’ve never had it.

Would you ever consider being a cannibal? I mean...I guess only if I was in a life-and-death situation, like if a plane I was in crashed on an island and I was starting to get hungry. I certainly don’t fantasize about cannibalism on any regular day.

Did you forget something important in the past week? I made a few mistakes at work due to me forgetting things, yeah.

Do you like learning new things? Sure.

What color is your toothpaste? White.

Are the floors in your house creaky? Nopes. I don’t think our doors are creaky-level just yet as well.

Do you fear death? I hate the uncertainty of what happens while it’s taking place, and what happens after. But I’ve been wishing for it for a while as well. There’s a difference.

Is your mouth dry? Not right now, no.

Do yoou have any scars from an animal? Yeah I’ve got a few marks and scratches from Cooper. I never run out of them, really.

Did you have fun with this survey? It was okay.

Was it random enough? Sure.

#survey #surveys

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untilspringdays · 5 years ago

Text

Catalyst: Chapter 4 Answers and Choices

Summary: You were the catalyst, the start of it all. They would have found each other eventually but you brought them together sooner, faster than expected. Then you vanished from their lives and they were determined to get you back.

Pairings: OT7 x Reader

Genre: Mafia AU | Angst, Fluff, Smut (Eventually)

Warnings (This chapter): Angst, Swearing, Panic, Blood

A/N: Thank you for being patient with me! I really appreciate it! A little shorter than the last one sorry..

Word Count: 3k

Previous | Master list | Next

Taglist: @jooheonbee @s-noir @asifetch7 @crackhead1-800 @slutkoo @softescapism (Ask me or message me to be added!)

Despite the walk to grow accustomed to having two bangtan boys knowing you were alive, you still weren’t used to it.

The extreme amount of fear and anxiety you felt just moments ago still lingered in your system. Even as you stepped into your home you couldn’t shake feeling like you were going to be sick.

You tossed your keys onto the kitchen counter as soon as you stepped in the door. Not even caring about the company that had followed you to your apartment, you headed directly for the couch and slumped down on the old thing. You knew the shape your home was in. Something they were going to have to take in, something that would make them realize just how much your life had changed because of what they did to you.

Needless to say they were shocked. Jimin especially.. What he was looking at right now reminded him of that old dingy apartment he used to share with you before he got the job working with Namjoon. Their eyes scanned the immediate surroundings, taking in the little details and how it differed from how you used to be.

Next to them from the entrance was a small kitchen. The fridge you had shorter than you. A small stove to match. It looked like only one person could stand in the kitchen at a time. There wasn’t even a dishwasher.. Next to the sink sat a couple of pill bottles. Other than that the kitchen was clear and clean. It was just…

A small counter separated what was the kitchen from what was considered the living space. There was maybe four feet of space from the counter and the back of the couch you were sitting on. A small coffee table sat not too far from the couch, and in front of that was a small tv. Next to the couch on the right side, was a side table that was right up against the wall. Beside that table was a chair. The two men could walk directly from the door to the living space if they wanted, but there was no other way in aside from the path that was clearly laid out.

Following the gap and the counter led to a hallway. It only had a couple of doors. A bedroom, a bathroom, a laundry room, and a closet..

After seeing all of this.. Jimin had decided that this was worse than what the two of you had shared. Guilt back to chewing at him on the inside. Even if BTS wasn’t the one that ordered the hit, they still could have helped you but they chose not to. They could have looked for you instead of so easily believing you were dead..

Your voice broke them from their thoughts. “I know it’s small. Just come sit down.” Your voice was stern showing you didn’t really want them to judge how small your home was but it was for the best.

Hoseok was the first one to move, choosing to settle down into the chair on the far wall from the entrance. Jimin had lingered in his spot a little longer. His eyes taking in the small details of your house a little longer. Despite it’s aged appearance and size, it was clean. Clearly well taken care of.

Eventually the younger moved and settled next to you. Leaving enough space so that you felt comfortable. They were invading your private space. It’s mostly why he chose to keep to the bookstore, and the arena. He didn’t want to push you too far, but you had offered this time.

You didn’t really look at either of them as they settled down. A large yawn escaping you as you sank further into the couch, trying to get comfortable despite the slight tension in the air.

“Alright.. Let’s go ahead and get this out of the way. What questions do you two have? I figure you have more for me at the moment than Jimin does, Hobi.” You turned your attention to the older male.

The two of you stared at each other for a moment. The second in command studying you, as his mind thought of questions he would like to ask you that wouldn’t push you too far. He could already tell that Jimin had developed an attachment to you again, and he wasn’t sure the younger would be able to let go this time.

“Well I’m gonna go ahead and ask about this small place. Why here? You had yourself set up pretty well at the other location.” He asked knowing that you were already going to say it was because of them but he wanted to hear you say it. To see if he could catch you in a lie. At this current point in time he saw you as a bit of a threat to his family, even if he was secretly happy that you were alive.

You stared at him for a moment trying not to be blunt seeing how you did offer your place to catch up, and answer questions. You could also feel Jimin’s curious gaze on you but it wasn’t the same look that Hobi was giving you.

“Well the first issue is that I was afraid whoever wanted me dead was going to come back and finish the job if I stayed. Plus I needed to get out of BTS territory.. and the fact that I have a small place like this is due to the fact that Mason doesn’t own any fancy apartments like some of us in the room.” You couldn’t help but be a little aggressive after everything you had been through today. Hell for the past amount of time since knowing a BTS member again.

“He lets me stay here for rent free for watching the bookstore. The money from fights is to help me get back on my feet fully and pay off some other things. But…” You mentioned. You had enough money to get out of this apartment but the sense of feeling safe was something you didn’t want to get rid of. Moving out of this building meant going back into BTS territory or into another gang’s territory, and increasing your chance of getting targeted again. It wasn’t something you wanted to do.

You let out a small sigh. “Mason wants his territory, the small amount he has, to remain as safe as possible. Because of that safety that he has provided, I don’t want to move.. I feel safe here.” You fiddled with your fingers, your gaze turning away from either of the men sitting near you. Anxiety eating at you from the inside as you now had to think back on bad things.

“So you have enough money to get out if you wanted?” Jimin asked with concern clear in his voice. A tone showing you he cared about your situation.

You nodded, eyes remaining on the ground in front of you.

“Why didn’t you just move far away from here? You said yourself that you have enough money.”

Hobi asked again, his dark gaze locked on your person trying to figure out if you were lying.

You paused. You asked this question yourself a lot, but it wasn’t just as simple as upping and leaving. Ever since your fake death your way of thinking had changed so much.

You let out a small sigh. “I just couldn’t leave like that.. Even with Mason’s help. I’m classified as dead. He can’t go and get me any forged documents because that meant crossing into boundaries other gang’s covered, and pissing one off..” You didn’t finish the statement, you didn’t need to for them to understand what would happen. “I wouldn’t let him risk his safe spot just for me nor would he want to. I’m not worth the risk in either of our minds.”

“So you are essentially stuck?” Jimin asked, his gaze somewhere in front of him, not focused on you. You could tell that he was already thinking through things now that he understood more of your situation.

“Yes.” You said softly. While you could have made it out and probably have gotten someone to forge some documents somewhere else, the risk was too great for you. You were too afraid. Despite all of your training and all of your victories in the underground arena, you were still very afraid.

You weren’t tough as you tried to make yourself out to be. You were just a normal person, living an average life with what you thought were average friends. You shouldn’t have kept your friendship with them once you learned the truth of what they did, but you cared about them.. And because of your normal life nearly getting killed caused you some severe trauma.

Now here you were. Stuck in a not so normal life. Looking over your shoulder at every turn. Listening very closely to anything anyone said. Every little detail wasn’t missed by you outside of your safe space. Not when it meant life or death for you.

“I guess we owe Mason sort of then for taking care of you.” Jimin said after a moment of silence between all of you.

“What? No. We don’t owe him anything.” Hobi spoke up before you could say anything. A frown clear on his face. “Besides you already watched the arena for him. Why would you even say anything like that?”

You opened your mouth to stop the conversation before it persisted but it was too late Jimin was already speaking again.

“What do you mean? King is our friend. Our good friend. Mason helped her when we didn’t even try to figure out if she was dead or not!” Jimin said standing up trying to prove his point on the situation. “We just simply accepted what we were told! Or rather you, Jin, and Joon did.” Jimin turned away from his brother, away from you.

“We just had to accept it as fact, when it clearly wasn’t.” The younger said lowly, making an accusation that he had no proof of.

You stood instantly at the same time that Hoseok did. Placing a hand on his chest stopping him from moving closer to the other BTS member, and yelling in return.

“Enough!” You growled out. Your body trembling from being afraid but you couldn’t have a fight or even an argument break out in your small home right now. “Both of you did what you had to do. Besides even if you looked, I didn’t want to be found so you wouldn’t have found me! So please for the love of god, do not fight about it!”

You didn’t want this. You didn’t want them to argue over your situation or throwing accusations all over the place. You understood that Jimin cared about you, but you didn’t want to come between their brotherhood. They always had a special bond between all seven of them, you wouldn’t be the one to ruin it.

You looked at the two of them, seeing them glaring at each other. “Look. I appreciate you helping me out Jimin but if it’s going to cause issues between you and BTS then please don’t continue it. Just go back to your life, and forget I existed alright? It will probably be best for everyone.”

The two gang members turned to you. Shock was clear on Jimin’s face while Hoseok was just a little surprised. Hobi assumed that this thing was you trying to split up his gang, his family but his assumption didn’t seem to be true at least not for now, considering what he just said.

“I..” Jimin paused glancing at Hoseok for a second. “I can’t. I don’t want to forget about you, and I want to clear BTS’ name. I’m certain that none of us ordered the hit on you.. I don’t see why we would. I just want to find out the truth.”

You looked to Hobi for a second before turning to Jimin. Gently you grasped his hands in yours, knowing the small touch will bring him some comfort. “I know Jiminie, but since we’re being honest here.. I gave up trying to figure out the truth a long time ago. It will only lead to hurt.. And I don’t want any of you to hurt anymore than you already have.. I have already made peace with my situation.” Your eyes were on his.

The two of you were focused on each other for just a small moment before he sighed and turned away dropping your hands in the process, causing you to frown. He wasn’t going to give this up so easily, was he?

You turned to Hoseok, a small sad smile on your face. “I appreciate you stopping by Hobi. I’m sorry for the trouble I have caused.” You took a step closer to him, your hands folded behind your back before quickly giving the older man a hug before stepping back.

Hoseok paused, his hesitation not giving him the chance to return your hug. The hug only reminded him of how much he missed your warmth those few years ago. How you brought a sense of normal to all of them. But he could tell you wanted them to leave. That you have had enough for today.

He ran a hand through his hair before giving you a reassuring look. “Don’t worry about it.” He walked past you, his hand landing on Jimin’s shoulder for a moment before heading for the door. “Lets go Jimin.” The second in command told the younger.

A simple, “Right.” Left Jimin before he turned and followed his brother out the door.

You had turned and watched them leave. A pang of sadness hitting you once again. You were certain you were going to see them again, but it didn’t help your situation.

It was nice to have someone other than Laine or Mason in your life but you didn’t want to cause any issues. You already didn’t want BTS after you for their failed hit, you certainly didn’t need them after King for trying to split them up.

With a sigh you walked back to your bedroom, ready to just sleep off the day. You didn’t want to deal with the tension or think about the drama anymore today.

✦

It had been a few days, and you hadn’t seen either Jimin nor Hoseok. It was concerning but at the same time it was one of the first few times you felt relaxed in the time since seeing either of them again.

Yes you were afraid the first couple of days because you had gotten used to having Jimin around to protect you but it was better this way. You were meant to be on your own. You could protect yourself. You were okay!

… No. You really weren’t. As much as you hated BTS, at the same time having them around just reminded you how much you missed them.

You walked silently along the street. Your coat pulled closely to you. You passed people and groups here and there not really minding any of them. You just wanted to get to the shopping center, then you wouldn’t have to look over your shoulder every so often.

God you hated crossing into gang territory wherever you went. One point in time you weren’t affected by it all. You never even knew the dangers that lurked around your city let alone the fact they all lingered so closely. Oh how you wished you could go back to that time.

Your paranoia relaxed just a bit as you grew closer to the shopping center. As soon as you thought you were safe, just within reach of the center, in view of many, you were forcefully pulled aside. The startled noise you let out was cut short as a shaky hand was placed over your mouth.

Your body instantly reacted going to take whatever action necessary to escape your attacker’s grasp, only to have that grip fall away as soon as you were pulled out of public view. You spun around quickly ready to face certain doom, only to have your eyes wide with shock at the sight before you.

Before you was Hoseok. His back pressed into the wall as he barely held himself up. Bruises and cuts littered his body. Blood trickling down from his nose and busted lip, as well as a cut from his forehead. How he even had the strength to pull you into the alley, you didn’t know.

“Hoseok?” You asked, stepping closer to him. Your hands were up trying to figure out a way to support him without hurting him. “What happened to you? Who did this?” You asked the already weak man. You couldn’t help the thought of his own brothers doing this to him, doing to him what they did to you.

Dull eyes looked up at you, seeming to barely acknowledge you were there. Your real name escaped his lips, before he finally collapsed in your arms. No longer conscious of the world around him.

Panic consumed you. No.. He would be fine right? His brothers were coming to get him right? Eyes looked around, hoping someone could step in and help you but it would most likely be the worst case scenario for you. You didn’t know how serious his injuries were, you couldn’t just sit around and wait on someone when he most likely needed help now…

You fought back the urge to scream out in frustration, in panic, in many other emotions you couldn’t put a name to at the moment, you didn’t have the time.

As you shifted the grip you had on the taller man, a small thought entered your head. You could just leave him here and be done with the whole BTS issue. Surely after everything you have been through, you had the right to do that. You could do that. You hated him right?

No. You couldn’t, you wouldn’t. You loved him too much.

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lynnsfics · 4 years ago

Text

In The Spotlight

Chapter Two

Pairing: Actor!Loki x Reader

<First Chapter

Next Chapter>

Word Count: Approx. 1.2k

~~~

Morning light filtered through the apartment window and you blinked awake. Your head felt heavy and you sighed as you struggled to sit up. Yawning, you took a look around the room, trying to recall why you were in Meg’s apartment.

That was when everything came back in a flash. “Hey sleepyhead,” Meg called from the kitchen. “How did you sleep?”

“Like a baby,” you responded with a smile. “Thank you again, I’m sorry this was all so last minute. Everything happened all at once.”

“It’s alright,” she said soothingly. “I’m making pancakes for breakfast, why don’t you come in here and tell me all about it.”

Nodding, you stood up and walked into the kitchen. You could smell the sweet aroma of pancake batter and couldn’t help but grin. She knew what would make you feel better. “I hope you didn’t go to any trouble making these, you’ve already so much.”

“Oh nonsense! Besides, I was already up. You know how much I love my sunrise meditation.”

‘Of course she would get up early,‘ you thought to yourself, taking a seat at the table. That was so like her. “Well, where should I begin? The fight with my mother or the handsome stranger I almost cussed out?”

She smirked, “How about we start at the very beginning and then make our way to your new boyfriend.”

“Oh very funny,” you laughed. “But it all started yesterday afternoon, when I was looking for a job online. Evidently only job searching theatre companies is a crime in that house. My mom told me to start searching for a ‘real job’, and I told her that theatre could be a ‘real job’.”

“Technically if you’re being paid for goods or services anything is a real job,” Meg interjected.

“I pointed that out,” you nodded. “And that’s when she really lost it. Apparently I was being nothing but a good-for-nothing freeloader, and she was sick of it.” You looked down, trying to blink away the tears threatening to spill out of your eyes.

Although you could never explain it, you always sought your mother’s approval. After your dad left, you chased after support from the only parental figure you had left. That ended up being a bad decision. No matter what you tried, your mom shut you down. All she wanted for you was ‘the best’, or so she claimed. But she never asked what you thought was best. Sometimes it seemed she never really cared.

“Oh sweetie it’s alright, you know you can cry here.” Meg put a hand on your shoulder and you let the tears fall.

“I told her that I didn’t need her seal of approval on my career choice. That was when she told me to get out. Told me that I couldn’t come back until I had an actual career.”

“You don’t need her to be your only support system. I will always be here, no matter what road you take in life.”

Now there was no stopping the tears from falling, and you wiped them away quickly before whispering a quick, “Thank you.”

Meg placed a plate of pancakes in front of you, “I think that’s enough talking about her. Now, why don’t you tell me about this mysterious stranger who swept you off your feet.”

“More like almost swept me out of the parking lot,” you clarified with a light laugh. “Well, he was tall, with shoulder length black hair with these piercing eyes. I couldn’t tell if they were blue or green, but he was gorgeous. Anyways, he took my place at the only gas pump at the station.”

Shaking her head, she took a sip of coffee, “That’s such a jerk move. Did he at least apologize?”

“Not exactly,” you began, not sure how to explain the interaction you had with him. “He handed me fifty dollars and took off. It was weird, to say the least.”

“It’s always the handsome ones that think they can get away with whatever they want. But there’s something familiar…” Meg glanced at you and then looked down. “It’s probably nothing but,” her brow furrowed. “I feel like I know him. Or at least recognize him from somewhere. That description just reminds me of someone, but I’m sure it’s nothing.”

An alarm went off on her phone, causing you both to jump. “Sorry,” she laughed, silencing it, “I have to get to work. Although I can call off today if you want me to.”-

“No Meg, really, it’s fine. Besides, I need to try and do some job searching today. But, if you do happen to figure out anything about our mysterious stranger just text me,” you shot her a mischievous grin.

“Sure thing,” she gave you a quick hug before heading out the door.

With a sad smile, you finished the rest of your breakfast. As usual, it was delicious, making you feel a slight twinge of jealousy at her cooking skills. After placing the plates in the dishwasher, you pulled out your laptop.

“Alright,” you said to yourself. Time to find a job.”

Apparently finding a “real” job in the city wasn’t as easy you pictured. Fifteen job searches later, you almost felt like giving up. Sighing, you decided to take a personality test to find a career well-suited to you. Unsurprisingly, the result was Performing Arts. Of course it was.

Shaking your head, you pulled up the website for the local theatre. Although it wasn’t Broadway level, it was still a large company. It was unlikely you would find anything, but it was worth a try.

An advertisement for their upcoming production of Romeo and Juliet appeared, and you had to stifle a laugh. Sure, it’s a big name play, but it had been so overdone. Scanning the page, you tried to find a link for auditions. Finally, a small tab that read “Audition Today!’ caught your eye.

Clicking on the link, your heart seized. Apparently when they said “Audition Today” they meant it. There was an open workshop for paid extra roles and today was the final day. There was no harm in just looking into it, right?

The workshop began at 2, which gave you just less than four hours to get ready. Risking a glance in the mirror, you grimaced. You had some serious work to do.

Once you had your hair fixed the way you liked it, you moved onto makeup. You weren’t sure whether you would need full stage makeup or a natural look, so you opted for a mix. Basic makeup with a bold lip and hint more blush than usual. There, that should work.

Looking back at the page, you double checked the requirements. From what you saw, all you needed was a valid form of identification. That should be easy enough. Searching through your purse, you fumbled for your driver’s license.

Dumping everything out of your purse your heart raced. It wasn’t there. Your brain automatically jumped to the worst case scenario, that it was still at your mom’s place. Then you realized that wouldn’t be possible since you had it with you at the gas station.

It was still at the gas station. At least you hoped it was.

~~~

Taglist:

@chxrryycola

@greenbeansarelit

I haven't been feeling my best these past few days so this chapter is a bit shorter, sorry! Let me know if you want to be added to my taglist and as always, likes and reblogs are appreciated! Love you all! <3

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jalapeno-princess · 5 years ago

Text

Mess We’ve Made

Chef AU

Mark Tuan X Reader

Genre: Fluff

A/N: I just finished watching Oh my ghost and got inspired to write this honestly it’s such an amazing k drama if you haven’t already seen it go watch it that is some GOOD SHIT RIGHT THERE I NEED ME A KANG SUNWOO

“Aw chef, come on. Just admit it. I’ve gotten a lot better. The customer wanted to talk to you personally to tell you how amazing my pasta dish was. Why can’t you just acknowledge my growth-“ before you could finish your sentence, a loaf of bread was being shoved in to your mouth. You’ve been bothering Mark about the compliment you received earlier that morning for the entire day and he was ultimately regretting his decision of telling you. You took a bite of the bread before throwing it back at him and frowning. Just as you were about to continue your rant, he looked around to see if anyone else was in the kitchen before quickly placing a soft kiss against your lips.

“Your pasta was perfect my apprentice. There, happy?” Warmth rose to your cheeks and you felt a smile creep on to your lips. You nodded your head in agreement before stealing one more kiss. He brought his fingers up to your cheeks and gently squeezed them while admiring the rest of your features that he loved so much. “I don’t understand why you still need my approval. You already know how amazing you are. If you keep up the good work, I’ll need to start taking lessons from you here pretty soon.”

You rolled your eyes as you made your way back to your station. Around seven months ago, you graduated from culinary school and found yourself looking for a job. That’s how you stumbled upon Mark’s restaurant while job hunting. Mark’s sous chef Jackson was the one who interviewed you and hired you right off the bat, saying that you were exactly what they had been looking for. You decided to do your research on the restaurant before accepting the job and it was in those few days that you found yourself falling for the handsome and very talented chef. But as soon as you first started working there, things did not go the way you thought they would.

Like most chefs, Mark was a perfectionist. He tasted every single dish prepared by anyone other than himself before allowing it to get sent out. If he didn’t think it was good enough to present to the customers, he’d throw away the plate of food automatically. Even if you had graduated with your masters degree in culinary, that didn’t mean anything to Mark. You had to start from the bottom and work your way to the top. He had you start off as a dishwasher and although you were upset that you Mark was treating you as if you didn’t just go through years of culinary school, you kept your mouth shut and did what you were told. But after a while, you grew tired of everyone in the restaurant acting as if you had no idea what to do when it came to cooking. Therefore, you decided to break the rules.

One day, when nobody was paying attention, you prepared a meal and had it sent out. When the customer had asked Jackson to speak to the chef who made it, nobody in the kitchen had any clue what he was talking about and that’s when you hesitantly rose your hand. Instead of being upset with you for going against what you were told to do, he picked you up in a bear hug and spun you around. “I knew I did the right thing in hiring you. We need to get Mark to try one of your dishes so you can stop being the bus girl and start impressing our customers.” You were over the moon. Your food was finally being recognized and you couldn’t be more happier. That was until Mark found out what you had done. He was upset with the fact that you broke the rules and you had a hard time understanding as to why. Shouldn’t he have been proud that a customer spoke so highly of you? As you were packing up to go home after you were finished with work, you overheard Mark and Jackson talking in Mark’s office.

“Come on Mark. What’s wrong man? She’s definitely talented in the kitchen and I’m sure the poor thing is tired of being a dishwasher. At least bump her up to prep cook or something. What’s stopping you from promoting her? She does everything you ask her to and never bothers you. If you keep treating her like this, she’ll leave.”

You heard the older chef release out a sigh of frustration. “She went against the rules Jackson. My rules. And whose to say she won’t do it again? If she were to wait just a few more days then maybe-“ as you were listening to the two men argue, you couldn’t help but feel annoyed. It was as if Mark didn’t have a genuine reason to keep treating you this way. He was making up excuses and you decided you were no longer going to put up with this kind of treatment. You didn’t go through all the blood, sweat and tears back in culinary school for nothing. Sure, you were fully aware that you weren’t going to become the head chef of a restaurant right after graduating, but you didn’t think one would act so rudely towards you. You had enough of Mark’s unpleasant behavior. That’s why you found yourself storming in to the office.

“I’m sorry, I don’t normally do things like this, but I know my worth and I refuse to continue working here knowing that I’m not getting the treatment I deserve. I’m a chef for God’s sake. Not a fucking dishwasher. It’s been two months and that’s all I’ve been doing and I’m sick of it. Did I do something to upset you chef? Is there something you don’t like about me? Because I’d be willing to change it just so I can do what I signed up to be here for. But if I’m going to continue to wash those stupid dishes, I’ll find somewhere else to work. Someplace where my talent and hard work will be appreciated.”

Before Mark could respond, you rushed out of the door. It felt good letting all of that off your chest, but now you were afraid of losing your job. Both Mark and Jackson were left stunned. Did you really just say that? They didn’t know someone as quiet and obedient as you was capable of such an outburst like that.

”See what you did? You asshole, now she’s mad. I wouldn’t be surprised if she quits and becomes a high renowned chef somewhere else all because of your negative feelings towards her. I don’t hire just anybody, you know that. I saw something in her. Sucks you couldn’t.” Jackson left the office, leaving Mark alone with his thoughts. When you got home that night, you plopped on to your couch and sighed. Did all of that really just happen? Did you really tell off your boss like that? It didn’t matter to you anymore. You would just find out your fate tomorrow morning when you’d go in to work. As you were falling asleep, you felt your phone vibrate. A part of you was exhausted and didn’t care about who it was that was trying to get in touch with you, but you found yourself looking anyway.

Chef: Be at the restaurant tomorrow at 6 A.M.

You scoffed at his dull message, especially because he had nothing to say as he watched you leave. But a part of you was also pretty excited to see why he wanted you to go in so early. The next morning, you woke up a few hours earlier than you normally did and started getting ready to head over to the restaurant.

When you walked in, you saw Mark standing in the kitchen and your breath hitched when you realized that he was wearing a tank top and sweats. Why did he have to be so attractive yet so cold towards you? Once Mark noticed you, he nodded in your direction and waited for you to put your things down. After you were done, you hesitantly walked towards him and waited for his command. For someone who had a bunch of confidence the night before, you don’t know why you were acting so shy and ready to be scolded for your sudden outburst.

“I’d like to apologize for my behavior as of lately. I’m really not a mean guy. I’m just very passionate about my restaurant and being a chef. I’m sorry for being such an asshole towards you. I didn’t mean to be so harsh. I promise I’ll be better. Um..do you think we could start over?”

Wow. You weren’t expecting him to apologize. Mark didn’t seem like the type to do such a thing and you knew it probably took a lot for him to do so. You smiled politely at him and nodded in agreement.

“I’d like that.”

He motioned for you to stand next to him and let you know what the two of you were going to be doing. “This is our most popular item here. I’m going to teach you how to make it, then you’re going to recreate it. Okay?” He thoroughly showed you the process of making the beef dish and when he had you try it, you could see why it was so popular. He smirked while watching you try the food. Little did you know, the reason why Mark tried so hard to stay away from you and was so cold towards you was because he had developed feelings for you. When he became a chef, he vowed to put his entire focus on his career. This meant that there was no time for a relationship. But he wasn’t surrounded by anyone who would interfere with his work ethic in the first place, so it didn’t matter. That was until you came walking through his restaurant with your bright eyes, beautiful smile and bubbly personality.

In only the first few weeks of knowing you, he starting falling for your patience, kindness, obedience and how you were in love with anything and everything that had to deal with the culinary arts. You also reminded him of himself when he first got in to cooking. He was quite fond of how quick you were to do whatever he asked of you and how you were so willing to learn new things. He also thought you were the prettiest girl he’s ever laid his eyes on, so the fact that you were everything Mark could want and more in a potential girlfriend made things difficult for him. No matter how much he liked you, he refused to let a girl get in the way of everything he’s worked so hard for. He was quickly broken out of his thoughts when he felt your dainty little fingers tap his shoulder.

“Chef, I’m done.” He looked at you in shock. Was he that deep in thought that his mind completely went blank and missed the entirety of your cooking demonstration? Mark took a look at your dish and he was pretty impressed. He was also upset that he doubted you so early on before getting to see what you were capable of. As he went to take a bite, you felt anxiety building up and minutes felt like hours waiting for his response. When you saw his blank expression, your heart sank until a grin rose upon his handsome face. You were in shock when you saw him pick up the plate and continued to eat it until it was all gone. If this is what success felt like, you wanted to feel this all the time.

“Was it okay?” He quietly chuckled at how shy you were acting and gave you a thumbs up.

“It was amazing. Honestly, I think it was better than mine. Jackson is going to have some competition here. Y/n, if you’d like, I want you to be my apprentice. Don’t get me wrong, this was really good. But there’s a lot I’d like to teach you..if you’re okay with that?” You quickly nodded your head as butterflies filled your tummy at the thought of working alongside Mark.

From that day on, you stuck to his side like glue. Almost every morning, he would teach you how to make dishes on the menu and sometimes you guys would experiment with other chef’s dishes. In the first few weeks of learning from Mark, you realized what a generous and very kind person he was and you found yourself falling for him even more than you already had. He began taking you with him when he ran errands and the thought of him choosing to bring you out of all your coworkers made your heart flutter. You noticed how he started getting closer and closer to you with each and every practice session and it only made things harder for you because you wanted more. But deep down, you knew the two of you could never be anything other than colleagues. However, one night, everything changed between the two of you.

Mark had asked you to stay after work so he could teach you a new dish he just came up with and you didn’t think anything of it. He had you cut the vegetables while he prepared everything else. To his dismay, you were going all too slow for his liking, so he found himself walking over to you in attempts to help you cut faster. When you felt him behind you, your breath hitched. Sure, there were gentle touches shared here and there during your sessions, but this was the closest the two of you have gotten before.

“Let me help you.” One of his hands grabbed your wrist while the other wrapped around your arm. He began cutting the vegetables quicker than you were and you felt pretty embarrassed about it. As you felt his warm breath against your neck, you felt shivers run down your spine and you could only wonder if being in this position had the same affect on Mark as it did on you. You couldn’t see, but Mark was grinning widely. He loved how it felt holding you and wished he could grow the balls to tell you how he felt. He wanted nothing more than to admit his feelings for you. To tell you that the mere thought of you brought happiness to his heart and your voice alone could make his entire day. He wanted you to know how much you meant to him and how he quickly fell for you in the few weeks of practicing together. But he was a coward and he was afraid that you didn’t feel the same.

When you noticed he stopped cutting the vegetables but continued to hold your hand, you were confused. You slowly tried to pull your hand away but he only tightened his grip.

“Mark-“ he turned you around to face him and took in a deep breath.

“Can I kiss you? Please? I really need to kiss you.” You bit your lip before nodding in agreement and soon you were being lifted and placed on to the counter as his lips connected with yours. His lips were soft and tasted like a mix of strawberry chapstick and salt from the meal you had just made. You decided that combination was your new favorite thing because it now reminded you of him. Your hands made their way in to his soft and fluffy hair as his went down to your hips, all but gently gripping on to them. He kissed you as if his life depended on it and the feeling sent fire to your bones. To your dismay, he suddenly pulled away and placed his forehead against yours.

“What are you doing to me?” As you were about to speak, he crashed his lips against yours, already missing the feeling of your lips on his. Soon, things were getting hot and heavy between the two of you and you could feel him against your thigh.

“Mmm..y/n-“ you nibbled on his ear to rile him up some more and to let him know that you wanted this just as much as he did. Before you could process what was going on, he picked you up from off the counter and threw you over his shoulder whilst playfully slapping your cute little butt. He brought you in to his office and slowly placed you on his desk.

“If I’m being honest, right after you stormed in here and confronted me for treating you like shit, I couldn’t stop thinking about having you like this. I wanted to fuck that dirty mouth of yours and show you how much of an effect you have on me. God y/n. I’ve liked you the moment you walked in to this restaurant. I’ve never felt this way about anyone before. The reason why I was always so rude to you was because I didn’t want to fall for you. All my time is spent on being a chef and I didn’t want anyone getting in the way of that. But I’m willing to make an exception. For you. I want to be with you. I want to be yours, if you’ll have me.”

You pulled him on top of you and started leaving chaste kisses all along his face. “I’m all yours.”

That night, he proved to you just how much he liked you with his head between your thighs, kissing, nibbling and sucking on your soft skin all the while bringing you to heaven multiple times. Once the two of you were done with your very passionate and steamy night of love making, he told you he would drop you home to your apartment. As he helped you get dressed, you noticed he put his shirt on you instead of your own and the idea made you smile.

“You really are the most beautiful girl ever. That was amazing, you are amazing, and you look really good in my shirt. You’re actually going to be the death of me y/n. I don’t think I want to drop you home tonight.” You giggled while grazing your fingers along his cheeks.

“Then don’t.” The smile that rose on his face made your heart flutter. He grabbed your things from and brought you towards his car. As you both were driving to his place, he intertwined your fingers together and brought your hand up to his lips, placing a gentle kiss against it.

“You and I are calling out sick tomorrow. I plan on having you again. And again. And again..Ow..That hurt..Okay! I’ll stop! But I want to stay in all day with you. I’ll make you breakfast in bed and we can watch some movies or something. I just want to be with you.” You smiled widely before placing a kiss on his nose.

“Hmmm, what will the boss say when he finds out I’m calling out sick just so we can have a lazy day?” He smirked at you and pressed a chaste kiss on your forehead.

“I heard he really likes you, so I’m sure he’ll let it slide. Now come on baby, there’s a bath with our names on it.”

From that day on, the two of you had become a couple but decided to keep it between yourselves. Mark didn’t want anyone interfering with your relationship, nor did he want the other employees to treat you unfairly if they found out you were dating the boss. He was the perfect boyfriend. Every time went on a trip, visiting different restaurants across the world, he would buy you things that reminded him of you. He was also very patient, loving and considerate when it came to you.

When there were days at work when he was frustrated, he would ask you to come in to his office and have you hold him because your presence alone seemed to make all his worries go away. He never failed to make you laugh and smile and he made you feel as if you were the only girl in the entire world. Being the amazing chef he was, he would constantly cook for you and he even baked a few things here and there. Your cooking lessons continued, but most of the time, you hardly ever got to cook. The two of you were always so busy making out to really focus on the food. One time, he burnt cupcakes he was planning to surprise you with because he was so distracted with kissing you, but you didn’t have a problem with that. You loved spending as much time with Mark as you possibly could and you didn’t care what you both did, as long as you were with him you were happy.

“Yeah. I know. But it means a lot when you compliment me. Your opinion is the only one that matters to me.” He pecked your nose while reaching down to play with your fingers.

“Stop. I don’t think you understand the effect you have on my heart. You’re so adorable it’s actually really annoying.” You playfully pouted at him but your mood was quick to change when an idea came to your mind. In your peripheral vision, you could see a cup of flour on the counter and you found yourself picking it up and throwing at him. His grin soon turned in to a scowl when he realized what you had just done.

“You did not just do that. Get back over here y/n. You’re gonna get it.” You ran around the kitchen, scrambling to find something else to throw at him before he could do the same to you. Your mind was so focused on trying to run away, you failed to notice your boyfriend going the opposite way in order to scare you from behind. You felt something wet fall against your cheek and shrieked when you found out he had just cracked an egg on your head. Mark’s laughter echoed throughout the kitchen and you took this time to open the bottle of maple syrup and threw it against his chest.

“Y/n what the fuck?” The two of you continued to play your game of who can get who dirtier and in the end, you had won. Mark put his hands up and surrendered, especially because he had realized what a mess the two of you made in the kitchen.

“Oh, Mark. I’m so sorry-“ he shook his head while picking you up and placing you on the counter. This was now a regular thing between the two of you and you couldn’t stop thinking about the first time it happened. No matter how long the two of you were dating for, you would never get used to the feeling of him touching you. His fingers were one of your favorite body parts of his. They were so long and skinny, you’d be lying if you said you weren’t obsessed with them. He knew exactly what to do in order to bring you to sheer ecstasy with his fingers alone.

“Look at the mess we’ve made. How about we go get cleaned up and then clean up this kitchen?” You nodded in agreement as he placed a sweet kiss on the corner of your lips and reached for your hand. “Hold on babe.” He bent down so he was eye level with your jaw and before you could ask him what he was doing, his tongue licked a long strip along your neck and the feeling sent warmth directly to your core. “You had whipped cream on your neck. I couldn’t help myself. You know how much I love whipped cream. Although, if I’m being honest, your cream is my favorite thing to eat..especially when it’s straight from the source..OW..what was that for?” As he brought you down from off the counter and pulled you towards his locker room, you stopped walking and gave him a knowing look.

“What are you doing? The ladies room is that way.” He rolled his eyes.

“Save water, shower together. I’m all about saving the earth babe. Now let’s go.” You pulled at his arm again and he released a sigh. “What now? It’s not like we haven’t showered together before. And I’ve seen you naked at least 50 times already. Why are you acting so shy? You weren’t shy last night when I took you up against the fridge..will you stop hitting me? Why aren’t you this aggressive in bed?”

You playfully punched his shoulder before finally allowing him to take you to his locker room. “What if someone sees?” Mark shook his head in disagreement.

“Nobody is here baby. I made sure of it. And if by chance someone still is, then good. I want everyone to know that you’re mine. Especially Jackson. He’s been extra flirty with you lately. He needs to stay away from my girl.” You beamed up at him and you were pretty sure your cheeks were pink from hearing his sweet words. Although Mark complimented you practically every single day, hearing him call you his girl made your heart melt in to a puddle. It was also really cute whenever he would get jealous because he would always try his best not to show it. But deep down, the both of you knew you only had eyes for each other.

“You know, you actually owe Jackson one. I wouldn’t be here if he didn’t see something in me.”

He brought his fingers up to your bottom lip and playfully pinched it. “Yeah yeah yeah. He’s great. I made him my sous chef for a reason. Now hurry up. I’m trying to be that something inside of you now let’s go.”

#got7 imagines #got7 #got7 drabbles #got7 scenarios #got7 mark #mark tuan #man I want a chef mark wtf #got7 fluff

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doing-all-write · 5 years ago

Text

lighthouse

Ben and reader are doing a puzzle during a thunderstorm. Major fluff ensues.

Warnings: None! Just lots of fluff and mentions of sex on a One Direction blanket

Word Count: 3K

This is my first fanfic I’ve written and posted on here so any comments, feedback, anything! would be much appreciated!

"Ben."

"No, no. I got this."

"Ben. Seriously. Don't worry about it, it's not even worth it."

"Babe, we've literally been at this for two hours, there has to be -"

"Benny, we've checked EVERYWHERE. That puzzle piece is straight up gone, I'm sorry."

He looked up from his crouched position on the floor, green eyes squinted in determination, "No, this is a fresh puzzle. I refuse to believe this would happen to us."

She rolled her eyes, "Okay but it DID. I think we need to start processing the other stages of grief and hang up the towel on this one."

His profile lit up infrequently as the candle they had lit earlier threw light, and the smell of lavender, haphazardly around the room. The storm outside building as though sensing Ben's dejection. Thunder rumbled closer, rain beat the roof relentlessly as he turned his head up and stared deep into her own eyes.

"You really want to give up this easily? After all this time? Sweetheart...what does that say about your commitment to this relationship?"

She scoffed and bit her lips to contain a smile as Ben stared back, barely able to hold back his own smile.

He wished she would let the smile break free. He did everything in his power to make her smile as often as possible. It was one of his favorite parts of her. When they first met and he encountered her smile for the first time, he knew immediately he was a goner.

"Well, it means that I know when we're fighting a losing battle which is more than can be said for you-"

"Alright I said ONE time that I preferred DC to Marvel-"

"Which is one time too many! Babe, you were IN a Marvel movie for fuck's sake. I talked about how much I love Captain Marvel for an HOUR on our first date, how could you possibly not think I wouldn't take offense to that?" She crossed her arms and stood up straighter in a futile attempt to make her diminutive frame more intimidating.

Ben sighed and shook his head as he slowly rose up and stretched his arms over his head, "I know, and honestly I feel like even in the afterlife you'll be giving PowerPoint presentations on why I'm wrong and you're right."

"Well, yeah. Because I AM right and I DO have a PowerPoint to make that exact point because we had that Passion Party where we had to make a presentation on something we love."

"Yeah, I'm surprised you didn't make it about me." Ben shot back and smiled broadly when he saw her scrunch up her nose and turn her head as she fought back another smile. He knew the right thing to say to fluster her.

Her index finger coaxed her bangs out of her eyes as she studied Ben, who in turn, was studying her.

She smiled, cocking her head, "What?"

He smiled back, "What do you mean, 'what'? Can't I just stare at my beautiful girlfriend?"

Her eyes flicked down, then back up to meet his gaze. "You really think so?"

His arms were around her in less than a second.

"Of course I do. Almost as beautiful as I am." he teased as she rolled her eyes and he bent down to plop a kiss onto her forehead.

She rested her head against his chest and let out a breath. He saw her shoulders sink down as the tension fell from her bones. She had been working so hard at the office. A new project at work had kept her late most days. Coupled with his shooting schedule they hadn't had much time to just, be with each other.

But they did now.

And that's when the power flickered off.

"Oh, you've got to be shitting me."

"Babe, you know I would never shit my favorite turd"

"I really regret ever telling you about that phrase."

"Why? It's so good, plus Joe thinks it's hysterical so he's picked up on it..face it sweetheart, you're a trendsetter."

"Yeah but why couldn't I have set a trend in, like, respecting women or having empathy?"

Her head rattled as Ben's chest shook with laughter, "I don't know darling but soon you'll be setting those trends, don't worry."

She sighed and rested her chin on his broad chest as she stared straight up at him. His face flickered in and out of the faint light the three wicks of the candle threw into the darkest corners of the room.

Thunder boomed directly overhead. The couch, chair and TV stand were ominous sentinels as lightning lit up the room periodically.

The floor felt comfortably solid as the apartment shook. What was really solid were the strong arms wrapped around her waist. She absentmindedly ran her hands over his forearms, back and forth. Feeling the fine blond hairs get coarse then smooth, over and over again.

"What are you thinkin' abou'?"

"Hmm, nothing really. I think I've reached nirvana."

"Really?"

"Yes, I'm totally at one with the universe."

"Hmm, and what does the universe say to you, my love?"

"It says that you should kiss me."

Ben exhaled a laugh that she felt break across her face. She grinned up at him as she stood on tip toes, presenting her lips to be kissed.

Ben took a moment to admire her lips. Her cupids bow, how full they were, the color of a rose. The first few times they had hung out, he assumed she was wearing lipstick but he was surprised to find out the first time she stayed the night that her lips were always that color.

When he had admitted this to her, she had laughed and buried her face in his chest as he wrapped his arms around her. He hadn't told her, but he had fallen in love with her in that moment.

And here they were. Wrapped up in each other and he was still madly in love with her.

A sliver of her pupil lit up in the flash of a lightening bolt, "Are you really going to go against the universe like this? You can't afford to give up some sweet karma. You have that audition in a few days and wouldn't it suck if you didn't do well, all because you wouldn't kiss me?"

"Jesus woman, alright, I'll kiss ya. Can't a man just admire his pretty girl?"

"Well, when you put it like that..." she grumbled as Ben's lips met hers.

One hand stayed glued to his shoulder while the other moved up to cup his cheek. The pad of her thumb smoothed out the tension that lived under his eyes. She could always tell when he was particularly stressed, his eyes carried the stress. The light in them, dimmer than normal, was the surest sign that he needed a night in. Maybe a massage. Definitely a blow job.

He pulled back and leaned his cheek into her hand. So soft, smelling faintly of the rose scented lotion she had put on earlier ("It's nice to smell nice! Plus then it's easier for Frankie to pick up my scent if I ever go missing" she had explained once as she walked out of the bathroom smelling like a botanical garden.) He grabbed her wrist and pulled the palm up to meet his lips as the thunder crashed around them.

He pressed his lips into the center of her hand (he always felt like his hands were comically large next to hers. Which she always made sure to give him grief about when he carried more glasses than she from the dishwasher.)

She hummed contentedly and smiled at him as he opened his eyes and met hers, dropping one of them into a wink as he lifted his head up and a soft smile cracked open.

God, he thought, we don't need any lamps. He just needed her smile. That would be enough for him.

"We should probably find more light sources." she mumbled begrudgingly, not wanting to move from Ben's embrace.

"Hmm, probably. Or..."

"Or...?"

"We just wait this one out and snuggle together?"

"You, Mr. Hardy, are a gentleman AND a scholar. Let's do it. WAIT." She had snatched his hand as he turned away to head toward the couch.

Ben's brows collapsed in towards each other as he took a step closer to her, "What is it, love? Is there something we forgot to do?"

She shook her head vehemently, reaching up to rake her fingers through her bangs to flatten them back into place (It was that damn cowlick. She could have sworn she had never had one before she had a particularly rough month and showed up on Ben's doorstep with them.)

"Can we use the One Direction blanket? You NEVER let m-"

"I NEVER let you use it?" He brought up a hand to his chest in a mock horrified gesture, "Need I remind you, I was the one that suggested once we have SEX on it because I know how much you love them-"

"Okay yes, that was an inspired idea. HOWEVER, you don't need to bring it up NOW-"

"Well I felt like my character was coming under ATTACK so, yeah, I'm going to defend myself!"

"Alright well-" she flung her hands up, and bugged her eyes out. Ben knew these signs, it meant that he was right, she just couldn't think of a better argument against him.

He smirked and walked away from her to the ottoman where he popped the top off to grab the bright pink blanket, emblazoned with all the members names of One Direction.

(He would never admit this but he was sure clouds wouldn't be as soft as this blanket. And so what if he napped under it sometimes when she wasn't home? That was nobodies business except his.)

He swung it around his shoulders and she thought that he would make an excellent king in a period piece. It would be all swirling capes, low lighting, hushed British accents talking urgently about who was going to invade who's land first. It would be boring as hell but with Ben in it, she would watch anything.

He walked over to her, opening his arms wide with the corners clutched in his hands. He engulfed her and her senses were blocked by fuzz, Ben's steady breathing and the feeling of being totally, and utterly, at peace.

"Alright, I'm going to start walking over to the couch, you're my eyes."

"Oh that's rich. I can barely see over your shoulder when I'm standing on my tip toes, how am I supposed to see when it's dark AND you're blocking my line of sight SIR?" She huffed as her words became clearer as she poked her head out of the cocoon.

He looked down and saw her bangs sticking up all over the place (why she got bangs when she had a cowlick he would never understand), tiny sparks glinting in her eyes as the lavender candle burned lower as time pressed on. He felt incredibly lucky in that moment. To be with the woman he loved was something he didn't take for granted.

He smiled and pirouetted around so he was looking over her shoulder, "Don't worry love, 'm gonna guide us. Your lighthouse, if you will" He heard a groan from the blanket.

"Oh babe, that's terrible."

"Yeah and you went all soft on the inside, didn't ya?"

The silence was all the answer he needed as he dropped a kiss to the crown of her head.

"Not my fault my boyfriend knows that I'm always a slut for cliches."

"I'm always a slut for you, my darling"

She gasped, "The height of romance!" as he laughed.

"Alrigh' love, we've arrived at our destination. How would you like to lay down?"

She took a moment. Ben knew she was staring off into the middle distance. It's how he always knew she was far away from him but he always knew she would come back.

They always came back to each other.

"Can I be laying on top of your chest?"

"Of course lovie, c'mon" he flipped them so his knees hit the back of the sofa. He untangled the blanket from them and handed it off to her with a solemn face.

"I'm giving this to you and TRUSTING you to spread this over us equally."

"Oh my god Benjamin, it was ONE time I ALLEGEDLY stole the covers and now I'll never be able to live that down."

"It only needs to happen one time!" He protested as he lowered himself onto the sofa, one arm tucked behind his head. She shook her head and clambered on top of him, blanket draped around her shoulders. She arranged the blanket, taking extra care to make sure they were both covered. (Grumbling the whole time about "picky boyfriends" and "defamation of character". She finally stopped when she felt his long fingers tickling her sides.)

She slotted her legs in between his and snuggled her head into his chest as she felt the comforting weight of his arm across her back. She reached her arms up to loosely wrap them around his neck, "I'm glad you're here with me."

He stared down at her, "Of course, love. I'm glad I'm here too. Dreadfully lonely at my place most of the time."

She felt her heart flutter in her chest. She suddenly became interested in the grain of Ben's t-shirt as she adopted a mock casual tone, as if the thought had just popped into her head and not a subject she had been desperately trying to broach for months, "It wouldn't be lonely if we moved in together."

The air stood still. Even the rain seemed like it was falling more softly. The thunder only distant booms as it marched on to the next town to terrorize.

She was ready to open her mouth and tell him it was a joke, something she had heard in a cheesy rom-com and wanted to see if it would work when suddenly,

"You want to wake up next to this ugly mug every day huh? Even when I'm hungover and grumpy as hell?"

She inhaled sharply and looked into his eyes, hoping beyond hope she wouldn't see any teasing there.

She found none. Just adoration, a softness, the faintest pinpricks of warm candlelight reflected back to her. Like lights guiding her home.

"Even your hungover face is obnoxiously cute, I can't even stand it. How can one man be so damn attractive?"

He chuckled as he brought his other arm around to hold her even closer to his body. "One day I'll teach you my secrets."

She hummed and snuggled deeper into his embrace.

As the thunder rolled away and the rain petered out into a trickle and finally stopped altogether; the sun rose and bore witness to two people, in love, content with the idea that home was no longer a place but a person.

And luckily, the sun wouldn't tell anyone they were under a One Direction blanket.

~~~~~

She woke the next morning, feeling lower to the ground than she remembered being upon falling asleep.

Her eyelids glowed with a warm light as the sun streamed through the blinds. Ben wasn't under her anymore.

She slowly pushed herself up and smacked her lips together a few times, trying to rid herself of the sleepy taste in her mouth.

One arm reached towards the sky as the other scratched her side. She blinked sleepily as she took in the room. All of her appliances flashing 12:00, indicating that the power had flickered back on late last night or early this morning. The candle had finally died out, the only sign it had been lit was the lingering scent of lavender.

Her feet hit the floor with a thud, and grasping the blanket around her shoulders to not let any of the warmth escape, she peeled her body up.

Her muscles loosened with every step as she went over to the table where they had abandoned the puzzle last night.

As she walked over, she felt something sticking to her foot. She crossed her ankle over her knee and bent down to peel off whatever had been stuck.

She brought the item up and realized, it was the last piece they needed to finish the puzzle.

She bit back a smile and caressed the rounded edges of the piece as her eyes meandered over the puzzle, her exploration paused by a post-it note stuck in the middle;

Went to my place to pick up some things and bring them over. xx

The smile broke free as she leaned over and slotted the last piece into place under the note. As she stood over the table surveying her work she heard the key in the door, Ben's voice wafting through the door as he called out to see if she was awake.

As she turned to him smiling, he stopped in the threshold, a box in his arms with two Starbucks cups balanced precariously atop.

They stood there, smiling at each other when Ben finally broke the silence to say,

"Hi, roomie."

She barked out a laugh, "Hi, roomie." She glanced back at the puzzle letting her finger tips drift over the ridges and valleys of the image they had put together, "I found the last piece."

"You did?" He asked as he set the box down and carried both cups over to her, offering her one.

"Yeah, it was stuck to my foot." She clasped the cup between her hands, letting the warmth seep into her fingers, studying Ben's profile as he examined the image, a slow smile creeping over his face.

"I bet you hid it from me last night just to convince me to move in with you."

A thousand half formed words spluttered through her lips as Ben calmly sipped his drink and slipped an arm around her shoulders.

"I-, no! That's not-Ben, I would never-"

A kiss to her temple finally halted the words, "I know my love, I know. I was joking. Though if we're half as good at living together as we are at puzzles then this whole thing will be smooth sailing."

Her head thudded against his shoulder as they stood, examining their handiwork. Sipping their coffee as this day, and the next, and their whole lives together, unfolded before them.

#ben hardy #ben hardy fanfic #ben hardy one shots #ben hardy fluff #ben jones #ben jones oneshot #ben jones one shot #ben jones fluff #ben jones fanfic #lighthouse #fluffy oneshot #one direction #puzzle #ben hardy imagine #ben jones imagine #ben hardy x reader #ben jones x reader #i hope you all like it!

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artsninspo · 5 years ago

Text

SCARED STRAIGHT - DRABBLE

Summary: A couple that knows how to get under each others skin are at a stalemate. Pushing each others buttons, a little scare might be what it takes to get back to neutral.

Paring: Trevante X Reader

Something I drummed up fast for @twistedcharismaaa hope you all enjoy this more relatable concept and the petty of some relationships :)

Living with Tre was nothing like what you’d thought. Sure it was nice waking up to him every morning but the man was crazy. You should have known better than to not consider any man who wakes up everyday at 5am to work out neurotic. Possibly with a touch of something like OCD minus the serious and sometimes scary compulsions of a clinical diagnosis.

It felt like being on under a microscope 24/7.

Thats why you were ignoring him, he’d woken you up two days ago complaining about the dishes you left in the sink after baking a cake. It had been for work and you had only remembered last minute. Whipping it together and waiting for it to be perfect you forgot to load the dishwasher and run it at one in the morning. You wanted to strangle him the entire day. It ruined your whole mood so much you decided against going home and went to your mothers to blow off some steam.

“Hows Tre?” She asks as you enjoy her famous scalloped potatoes.

“Meh”

“I always know when somethings up, you like hanging with him more than me an day” she comments garnering an eye roll.

“He's a madman, I don’t think its gonna work Ma” your mothers brows bunch in concern at your words.

“Baby what happened?” Her concern is evident

“He’s a drill sergeant” you mutter looking at your phone ring again. The twelve missed calls prove your point as you shoot off a text that something came up and you’re with your mom.

“Did you speak to him about it?”

“Have you ever tried telling a crazy person they’re crazy?” You ask getting another helping to remedy your frustration. Fuck eating healthy, fuck going to the gym, fuck not being able to be comfortable in your space, fuck him. The thoughts dance around in your head as our mom smiles.

“I tell you one thing you’re no walk in the park and I’ve never heard you complain before”

“I’m a walk on clouds with him Ma, I give him no trouble and he can’t appreciate that!”

….

Opting against work and equipped with a new idea you smile heading into the empty house heading into your art studio. The petty in you can’t resist making a mess. He’s not supposed to be in this room ever anyways so theres no way he should see but he vacuums when you have months that aren’t creative.

Dipping your brush in colours, flicking the paint and letting the damp brushes drip onto the bone coloured carpets brings you joy. You’ll show him a mess. Sitting at your easel you get the exact relief needed to feel calm and relax a little.

Skipping down the stairs in better spirits and on the phone to your best-friend your laughter comes to a halt seeing Major Rhodes coming in to start his shift.

“You’re home” he comments with concerned eyes locking the front door behind him. Making no attempt to greet him you smile continuing your conversation and washing the paint brushes in the kitchen sink to grind his gears even more.

“I told you about this, use the sink in the basement or ill do it for you” Tre says getting behind you toggle you your favourite hug and kiss combo. Using your elbow to create distance you slip out of his reach heading back to your art room and shutting the door.

“You’re such a bitch” your best friend laughs on the other end of the phone.

“I am not. I’m the one who’s been living with a parole officer” You comment.

“You know that man will do anything for you, just tell him whats bothering you”

“You know how I feel about changing people to make myself happier. Its not fair to them, if the change is not voluntary - will not push” its a bullshit excuse for the truth, you could never argue with Tre. You would never argue with him and it would become an argument.

“And hows that artsy shit working for a practical man?” She asks.

“I hate you” you laugh as theres a knock at your studio door. You ignore it until the door opens and his eyes dance around the room thats in complete disorder before his eyes fall on yours. It takes everything in you not to smile at the success of your mission to get under his skin too.

“I was thinking we go out tonight, dinner, a movie, bowling?” He asks. As much as you’d like to fully ignore him you know he’d never let it happen so you put your index finger to your lips to shush him while pointing to the canvas.

“Come on YN” he groans but you keep ignoring him getting more of a kick out of it than you should. He shuts the door heading downstairs and starts washing the brushes.

“Girl, he just texted me asking whats wrong with my best friend” your bff laughs.

“Don’t respond, I need solidarity” you laugh feeling a little bad.

Tre’s compulsion for spotlessness was inherent like your free spirit, he was never trying to be mean. Whereas instead of telling him like an adult you’d reduced yourself to a childish retaliation. Cleaning up your paint station you smile at your newest piece signing it and setting it to dry. You rearrange your supplies putting them where they should be according to your rationale.

Heading into your bedroom Tre sits on the couch flicking through the channels in a silent rage.

“Are you done painting now?” He shouts as you head into the ensuite , your back is to him as you smile ignoring him some more.

“It’s been three days YN, if you don’t tell me whats wrong I can’t help. Besides you didn’t even sleep here last night you don’t think we should talk about that?” He asks to try provoking speech when its clear as ever you’d never cheat. Its a grade a tactic but you resist. Liking in the mirror you see him smile behind you.

“No problem baby” he smiles leaving the bathroom and making your heart race.

Stay strong. You tell yourself returning to your now empty bedroom. A three day detox from your man is grounds for self care and you apply your eye patches ordering in for the night. Watching throwback shows and laughing your ass off you almost miss the notification signalling their arrival.

“Thanks” You smile at the delivery guy taking the bag of food and locking the door back you head into the unlit kitchen only for a figure to jump out.

“Ahh” you both say in unison, your pitch octaves higher as you drop the food.

“Tr-“ you start calling for help before hearing his familiar laugh. Turning on the light he stands there bent over laughing his ass off. Leaning against the wall and feeling your heart beat out of your chest you try to breathe.

“You know I scare easy!” You snap.

“Ignore that” he smiles picking up the food.

“Fuck you, now its all for me” you snatch the bag out of his hands and he smiles.

“We can eat after I fuck you” he comments grabbing you before you can run. “You’re in for it tonight babe, fifty missed calls over the past three days” he says kissing the spot on your neck you love as he holds you from behind like you like. “Sleeping at your moms and denying me my right” he adds another kiss as the sensations begin down below. “Id like to see you ignore me now” he finishes turning you around and taking our chin in a firm hold.

“Last chance to save yourself” he adds with his dark glare running his thumb on your lips.

“New rules” you speak with his undivided attention. His expression changes to his typical kind and empathetic one as you put your doe eyes to good use.

“Only time you boss me around like this is like this, I don’t want to hear it every day and I don’t want to wake up to you upset about dishes”

“I haven’t got pussy two weeks days of course I’m irritable!” He exclaims.

“Works been stressful”

“You’re usually my kitten, but you’ve been a very bitchy girl. Let me do my job to take care of it or talk to me.” He says coming in for a deep kiss. Its a gesture that shows his love. “Babe, you’re finished, we’re going back to the basics” his eyes darken again. It had been a bid for dominance but Tre won, fucking you into submission.

Living with Tre was nothing like what you’d thought. Maybe the man was a little crazy but you wouldn’t trade it for anything else. His obsession with detail could come in handy more times than not.

“Sorry for ignoring you” you smile trying your best to look innocent.

“How sorry?” He sits.

“Depends on if you’re sorry too?” You ask.

“I’ll work on it, you have my word” he concedes and you sink down on your knees ready to greet one of your favourite parts of him with your lips and hands.

____

Let me know if you get your tags and thanks for reading :)

TAGS:

@notsomellowmushroom @princessasaani @twistedcharismaaa @heavensangelxo @bakarilennox @xo-goldengirl

@quietstorm-73 @tip222u @cherrystainedlipsbaby @keiva1000 @highlifeflylife @tastingmellow @chaneajoyyy @thehomierobbstark

@queenflaws @uzumaki-rebellion @cutewylie @lostennyc @bugngiz @lifelover4u @l-auteuse

@thememoireeofme @amelatonin @jad3djay @thickemadame @doublesidedscoobysnacks @aanairb @hooliemooliedonutshawp

#Trevante Rhodes #trevante rhodes x reader #trevanterhodesimagine #masterlist

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crushedbyhyperbole · 5 years ago

Text

Some Like it Saucy

Summary: Cooped up in the compound while the team conference with Secretary ‘Toss-pot’ Ross, you decide to cook and decorate. What better way to fill the team’s hearts and bellies than a Marrakech-themed evening with Bucky’s favourite food - Moroccan tagine. He’s got other ideas for the perfect dessert though.

Words: 1.7k

A/N: Written for @buckybarnesbeans leap year challenge filling the dialog prompt: “Which one of you Bollocks thinks my chicken is dry? You? You?” (In bold). This is a Bucky/Reader fic using my Suncatcher reader character... yes the one whose power is rainbows XD Thank you @sassy-pelican for giving this a read to check for fuck-ups <3

Warnings: Bad language. Tiny bit of light smut / non-graphic smut. Light on reader insecurities towards the end.

The living areas of the compound were quiet and hollow; the whole team was gone and you were left alone. It felt eerie. Like the rest of the world had vanished and you were the sole inhabitant of a world once teeming with life. You shivered at the thought of such endless solitude.

There were remnants of their existence, of course. The alluring yet comforting smell of Bucky’s soap in your bathroom this morning, a half-drank mug of coffee on the common room table, a messily folded newspaper with a half-completed crossword puzzle, and an open packet of Tony’s favourite trail mix hidden in the magazine rack. It wasn’t like they had been snapped out of existence or anything, they were all at a conference with Secretary Ross.

Dickhead, you thought.

Ever since that mission in London where you picked up some amusing English insults that you later took pleasure in using on Secretary Ross, your absence at debriefings and conferences involving him had been, let’s say, strongly advised. Needless to say, Secretary Ross didn’t appreciate you calling him a wanker and telling him that he talked a load of bollocks.

It had been a fun mission though. The team had been brought in to help MI5 foil a plot to steal the crown jewels and reunite the nine pieces of the famous Cullinan diamond, which occult conspiracy theorists say was a stone of great power. Cullinan I, in particular, was an exquisite stone. Housed in the majestic sceptre with the cross, it had piqued your interest purely for its unusual refractive index; there was something about that stone, you could feel it with your powers as you pushed your influence through the security case to interact with the stone.

Goosebumps broke out across your skin and you shook yourself free of the memory. The eeriness of the compound seemed to have increased since invoking the feeling of the power of the stone but you cast it aside as best you could, latching on to the annoyance you felt that Secretary Ross was robbing you of a lazy morning in bed with Bucky. Tosser!

Boredom made your bones itch. You needed to do something other than going back to your room to masturbate until everyone came back, so you decided to cook dinner. Moroccan chicken tagine. It was one of Bucky’s favourite meals, and since everyone was suffering the presence of Secretary Toss-pot, you figured they deserved a reward.

Delicious smells of savoury meat, fragrant spices and sweet apricots filled the kitchen as the team emerged from the elevator. You were finishing up by adding a handful of chopped coriander leaves to the tagine, humming a tune while you worked, when strong arms snaked around your waist and a beardy kiss pressed against your temple. You’d know the feel and smell of Bucky anywhere.

“Hey, baby!” You smiled and pressed back against him. “How is Secretary Tosser?”

“You didn’t miss anything good.” He chuckled in your ear, smooching down your neck only to pinch your skin between his teeth playfully. You adored that you were both still very much in love after years of being together. “He finally fired that P.A. who wrote that you called him a wanker into the meeting transcript that time.”

“No!” You gasped. That woman was a legend in her own right. “That’s fucking terrible -oooo! I hate that man!”

“Relax, Rainbow Brite,” Tony appeared beside you, “I hired her this afternoon so she’ll take notes for all of our meetings with Ross when he’s here.” He beamed, lifting the lid of your tagine and groaning with pleasure as the steam rose. “That smells amazing.”

“Thanks boss.” You grinned, feeling the fuzzy warmth of his praise and the dark satisfaction that Ross wouldn’t be able to bully that poor P.A. anymore.

“You made this? Should I be worried?” Tony feigned horror. “Barnes is still alive so your cooking can’t be all that bad-oof!” He grunted as you flapped the back of your hand into his gut, hard.

“Stark!” You growled in warning.

“Okayyy, good talk.” He bolted with a cheeky grimace.

Bucky held you tight to his chest so you couldn’t give chase and assault Tony with your wooden spoon. “Easy, tiger.” He turned you in his embrace and pressed a needy kiss to your lips, knowing just how to calm your fiery temper.

The team came together for dinner and you all sat on floor cushions around a low table to eat. You had enlisted the help of Vision to create your Marrakech themed night and you had both outdone yourselves. Cannibalising one of the conference rooms had been a stroke of genius and, in your opinion, it was a far better use for the room than boring meetings. The dim glow of the ornate iron lanterns and the holographic fire courtesy of FRIDAY, the makeshift marquee made from brightly coloured fabrics, the smell from the food you’d made, and the soft but authentic music made you feel like you’d stepped through a portal into a souk lounge in the heart of Morocco.

“Next time, let’s not invite the others.” Bucky murmured in your ear as he leaned in to give you a kiss after you had all settled and began to eat. “I want you,” his voice husky with need, “right here on these cushions.”

You swallowed hard, looking around to see if anyone had caught his words, excited by his brazen proposition. Chatter and laughter continued around you, oblivious to your rising blush.

“Naked and wrapped in colourful silks.” His lips brushed the tender skin below your ear and you shivered, setting a short-lived prismatic display of your power against the fabrics hanging around the group. You felt his smirk, he was doing this on purpose. “Satin skin under my hands, hot and needy as I love you so painfully slow.”

“Bucky…” You sighed wantonly as the imagery overtook you.

You could almost feel him stroking his hands up your legs as they parted for him, silk kissing your skin as he bared your body to the air. Goosebumps despite the warmth of a real fire, and the golden glow mirroring the fire in his eyes. Each gasp. Each sigh. They were percussion to the music he played with your body. Sweat-slicked skin adhering you two together as hips rolled and pleasure filled you to bursting. His hands, both firm and gentle, exploring and worshiping you like you were Aphrodite herself. Never truly allowing you to come down from the heights he drove you to, never relenting his most devoted worship, not even when the names of other gods spilled from your lips and you cried out in ecstasy so loud you could split the sky.

“Miss Sun?” The words feel foreign; soft but still plenty sharp to snap you back to reality.

You’d eaten with the team, smiled at them when they’d thanked you for making a wonderful dinner, and had been clearing away dishes in a complete daze. Across the kitchen, Bucky smirked at you from where he was piling plates into the dishwasher. That little shit knew exactly what he’d done.

“Miss Sun?” Vision looked concerned as he laid a hand gently on your shoulder. “Is everything alright?”

“I’m good.” You mentally shook yourself, making a mental note to torment Bucky later. “I’m aaaalll good.”

Vision nodded curtly, pausing a moment before he addressed the reason he’d approached you in the first place.

“I’ve taken the liberty of suggesting an amendment for your tagine recipe, to increase the sauce to meat ratio while leaving the delicate balance of flavours intact.”

“Why? What’s wrong with my recipe?”

“Nothing is wrong.” He smiled warmly. “A comment was made that more sauce would have been welcome.”

“More sauce, huh?” You slid your tray of crockery onto the nearest counter and picked up a tray of baked spiced orange pastries and mint sugared pineapple pieces. “I’ll take it under advisement.”

When you delivered dessert and settled on your cushion next to Bucky, he squeezed your thigh reassuringly as the chatter quietened while the team tucked into the delicious moist pastries. He was about to tell you he was proud of you for not allowing your irritation to flare but he didn’t get the chance. He knew you were insecure, underneath the foul mouth and the bravado was a girl who needed reassurance that she was more than just good enough.

“So…” You cocked your head as the eyes of the whole team fell on you. “Which one of you bollocks thinks my chicken is dry?” You pointed your spoon around the table starting at Sam. “You?” He was always the first to talk shit, even if it was just a joke. “You?” Natasha fell under your gaze.

“No one said it was dry, sweetie.” She smiled kindly, seeing your outburst for what it was – you really needed to know you’d done a good job. You’d felt useless being stuck at the compound while the rest of the team had meet and greets with officials. No matter how boring they really were, you felt left out. You’d had Vision for company but he didn’t share your feelings. “I just said I’d kill for more of that awesome sauce and Vision, being the pragmatic type, figured he’d save lives and help you update the recipe.”

You huffed a little but relaxed as Bucky laid his arm across your shoulder. “You know she likes things a bit saucy, babe.” He chuckled.

“She’s not the only one.” You whispered and elbowed him in the ribs playfully, earning a wink from him. “Earlier you said something about silk and sex, and I expect you to deliver.”

Bucky was up on his feet immediately, pulling you up and slinging you over his shoulder while you squealed in protest. “If you’ll excuse us,” he addressed the room, “we have a recipe to discuss.”

“Sounds like a recipe for buns in the oven.” Sam scoffed around a mouthful of pineapple.

“Don’t tempt fate.” Nat scolded. “They haven’t multiplied yet.”

Bucky snagged one of the silks that made up the make-shift marquee and waved the red and orange material like a flag as he carried you giggling from conference room Marrakech. He was a man of his word and you could expect nothing but exquisite adoration. Your skin tingled with anticipation. The silk. His hands. His lips and tongue. You moaned lustfully.

As the door of your room closed firmly and you were laid gently on your bed, the love in his eyes engulfed you whole.

#raesleapyearchallenge #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fan fiction #bucky fanfic #suncatcher cluster #moroccanvibes #I love Moroccan food #my writing #cloudy's writing

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wistfulcynic · 5 years ago

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Across The Snowy Places (5 /5)

And so the trope-alicious trope-fest comes to an end. Thus far we have seen: fake dating, bed sharing, matchmaking, snowed in, heater not working, favourite author, found families, and drunken affection/confession. Now it’s time for some mistaken first impressions and of course the happy ending!

I’ve loved writing this very silly thing, and especially loved the enthusiastic response it’s received from all you lovely people. Thank you ❤️❤️❤️

SUMMARY: Desperate to avoid another disastrous setup, Emma Swan tells her sister-in-law Mary Margaret she doesn’t need a date for Thanksgiving dinner… because she’s dating her neighbour, Killian Jones. The neighbour she tries to avoid but can’t seem to get out of her head.

Killian has been captivated by Emma from the moment they met, and he’s thrilled at this opportunity to get closer to her. But when they are trapped in a freak snowstorm in a room with only one bed, can he finally take the chance he’s been longing for, or will his actions drive Emma away forever?

In other words: TROPES GALORE

On AO3 | Tumblr Ch1 | Ch2 | Ch3 | Ch4

For my favouritest person @thisonesatellite who is never less than the best despite her VERY SUBTLE reactions to things.

@kmomof4 @shireness-says @snidgetsafan @darkcolinodonorgasm @snowbellewells @stahlop @mariakov81 @courtorderedcake @jonirobinson64 @tiganasummertree @ohmightydevviepuu @shardminds @jennjenn615 @superchocovian

CHAPTER FIVE: SATURDAY

Slowly, carefully, Emma removes Killian’s hand from where it rests against the bare skin of her stomach and slides out of the bed. She’s instantly freezing, not because the room is that cold but just from the loss of Killian’s warmth. She wishes she could crawl back in with him, curl up against him and feel his arms around her. But she remembers just enough of the night before to know that can never happen.

She grabs her sweater and pulls it on over Mary Margaret’s pajamas and slips through the door and downstairs to the kitchen. Her head is pounding and she’s desperate for coffee.

Mary Margaret is already in the kitchen, loading the dishwasher and humming Christmas songs.

“Hey,” she says. “How are you feeling?”

“Awful.” Emma collapses into a chair and cradles her head in her hands. “Is there coffee?”

“Of course.” Mary Margaret pours her a cup and loads it with milk and sugar. “No cinnamon syrup,” she says. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay, I’m more interested in the caffeine,” says Emma, wrapping her hands around the mug and leaning her aching temple against it.

Mary Margaret returns her attention to the dishwasher. “Where’s Killian?” she asks.

“Still asleep.”

“Thanks for bringing him yesterday,” says Mary Margaret. “I know you were reluctant, but we really loved getting to know him. I’m so glad you found someone you can love.”

Emma squeezes her eyes shut, fingers tight on her coffee mug.

“I don’t love Killian,” she says harshly. “We only just started dating.”

“I know, sweetie. But sometimes it doesn’t take any time at all to know you’ve found The One.”

“Ugh,” says Emma. “Not you too.”

“What do you mean?”

“Ruby said the same thing to me. ‘Mulan is The One, capital letters’.”

“Well that does happen. You know that David and I knew, pretty much right away.”

“Yeah.”

“And Killian, I think he’s pretty sure.”

Emma nods. He did a great job acting sure in front of everyone. She couldn’t have asked for a better fake boyfriend. If only he actually felt the way he pretended to feel.

She blinks in surprise at that thought, sitting up straight and immediately regretting it when a fresh jolt of pain pierces her eye socket. She groans and takes a gulp of coffee, then leans her head against the cup again and tries to think. Does she want Killian’s pretend feelings to be real ones? She thinks about how nice it’s been these past two days, being the focus of his attention and interest, how much she’s truly enjoyed his company. She thinks about her poem... God, her poem.... and about Killian and the pull she’s always felt towards him… not just the physical attraction but something more... and she thinks about how she kissed him, twice, and he rejected her both times. She gulps more coffee, swallowing a stab of pain along with it. It doesn’t matter what she wants if Killian isn’t interested, and two solid rejections have made that more than clear he’s not. She can’t allow there to be a third.

Killian wishes he were surprised to find himself waking up alone. But he’s not, not at all. He knows Emma, however much she might wish he didn’t, and he knows the consequences of pushing her too hard, coming on too strong. She’s run, and he’s all too aware of what that means: if he hasn’t completely fucked up his chances with her he’s at least reduced them to nearly nothing.

He rolls onto his back, rubs his hand over his face. There’s a hollow ache in his chest, an empty feeling of loss that he tries to tell himself is absurd as he never had her to begin with. And yet the idea of going back to how things were, to the snatches of conversation in the hallway between their apartments and long stretches of not seeing her at all... now that he knows how she kisses and the feel of her skin against his... now that he knows how much she treasured his most personal poem… it’s unbearable. He’s not sure he can survive it.

He wants to go home. Back to his familiar surroundings, to his books and his kitchen, where he can hide away and lick his wounds in peace. He drags himself from the bed and changes back into his clothes, wincing a bit at wearing the same things for the third day in a row, then folds David’s pajamas neatly and places them on Emma’s bed. He scans the room to be sure he hasn’t forgotten anything and his eyes fall on his poem, lying on the floor where it must have fallen when they got into bed last night. He picks it up and stares at it until the words are a watery blur and then he blinks the tears away, carefully folds the page and tucks it into the back pocket of his jeans.

He finds Emma where he expected he would, in the kitchen with Mary Margaret. She looks up as the door opens and their eyes meet. He holds his breath, half expecting her to look away, but she doesn’t and he offers her a smile, small and tentative. When she returns it he exhales in relief. It appears they’re still pretending, and he figures the least he can do is put on a good performance during his last moments as Emma’s boyfriend.

“Morning, love,” he says, giving her a one-armed hug and a kiss on the cheek. “How are you feeling?”

“Bit worse for wear,” she replies. “Mary Margaret gave me some aspirin though and she’s making eggs.”

“Would you like some, Killian?” Mary Margaret offers.

“No thank you, but I’d love some coffee.”

“Of course,” she says. “How do you take it?”

“Just black.”

He takes the cup Mary Margaret offers him, removing his arm from Emma’s shoulders as he does. She feels the loss like a dagger through her heart, and when she realises that’s probably the last time Killian will ever put his arm around her she has to blink back tears.

“I’m going to go get changed,” she says. “So we can get on the road as soon as breakfast is finished. I don’t know about you, but I really want to put on some clean clothes.”

“Aye.” Killian agrees heartily.

“David and I have some things you could—” begins Mary Margaret, but Emma interrupts.

“Oh, no, don’t bother, please, it’s just another two hours in the car then we can wear our own things,” she says. “I’m just going to... go… now…” she gestures vaguely and hurries from the room.

In the privacy of her bedroom she presses the heels of her hands firmly against her eyes, forcing down the thick knot of tears rising from her throat. If she cries her eyes will be red and Mary Margaret will know something’s up. Killian will know, and she can’t bear for him to pity her. She dresses quickly and runs her fingers through her hair, takes a deep breath and as she turns to go she spots her journal lying on the small table next to her bed. On a whim she grabs it, takes it downstairs and tucks it into her bag before returning to the kitchen.

They don’t speak in the car on the way home. Killian tries to summon the will to tease her or tell her a story that will make her laugh but he can’t do it. He fears his heart may be breaking, and it takes every ounce of strength he has just to hold himself together around the brittle shards of it.

Emma just wants to forget. She thinks about getting home, putting on her own pajamas and curling up on the sofa with a cup of hot chocolate and watching movies all day and just not thinking. Not about Killian or her hopelessly tangled feelings or anything else.

She parks the car in front of their apartment building and they get out, still saying nothing. Wordlessly they head inside, into the elevator and out again, and to their respective doors.

The silence is thick and tense as they unlock and open them, and then as one they turn to face each other. “Well,” Killian forces the word out, and a smile to accompany it. “I guess I’ll see you around, Swan.”

“Yeah.” Emma smiles too, though she fears it may crack her face. “Thanks for doing this, Killian. I really do appreciate it.”

“Of course, love. I’ll be your fake boyfriend any time, just say the word.”

“Yeah.”

Their eyes meet and hold and for a moment they stand still, trapped in emotion and the unspoken words that hang in the air between them. And then again as one they exchange stiff and awkward nods and turn away.

Emma takes a long shower, as hot as she can stand, then gets immediately into her favourite pajamas. She makes herself hot chocolate in her largest mug, tops it with cinnamon and a truly obscene pile of whipped cream and curls into a ball on the sofa. Netflix is full of Christmas movies but none appeal to her, and when she realises she’s been scrolling aimlessly for more than half an hour she turns off the TV and throws the remote down in disgust.

Despite her earlier resolution she can’t stop thinking about Killian. About how much she enjoyed her time with him, and how he turned out to be nothing at all like she expected. The flirting and innuendo is just one layer of him, she realises now, just the protective wrapper on the sensitive man beneath. The sweet and considerate and funny man with a strong streak of nerd that she finds ridiculously attractive.

The man who wrote her poem. The mystery poet who understood her without even knowing her, whose words got her through one of the most difficult times in her life. It should be unbelievable, she thinks, for that poet and her flirty, womanising neighbour to be one and the same and yet she finds that it makes perfect sense. Killian hides behind snark and innuendo the way she hides behind her prickles, and she’s willing to bet that the women she’s seen leaving his apartment early in the morning, never the same one twice, are just another coping mechanism. She understands those.

If she’d only understood it earlier. Killian has tried, over and over again, to get to know her. He invited her to dinner, offered her coffee, and each time she refused. She didn’t want to be someone he slept with once and never saw again, and caught up in her fear of pain and rejection she couldn’t see that that was never what he wanted.

And why is that?

Because she’s always felt it, that pull of connection, of recognition between them, and it terrified her. For a person who’s known precious little connection in her life and lost nearly everyone close to her, someone who’s spent her life wondering if she’s even capable of love, the idea of actually finding someone, of opening up to another person is a frightening thing to contemplate.

And now it may be too late.

She needs to sort out her thoughts, try to figure out what she wants, and now she understands where her impulse to grab her old journal this morning came from. She retrieves it from her bag along with a pen, flips it open to the blank pages at the back, settles down on the sofa and starts to write.

Two hours later she’s mentally exhausted and emotionally wrung out, but she knows what she has to do.

Emma stands outside Killian’s apartment taking deep breaths and trying to calm her racing heart. She’s just raising her fist to knock when the door swings open.

“Swan!” Killian stops abruptly and gapes at her. He looks terrible, his hair standing up in tufts at odd angles and his eyes red-rimmed. “I was just coming to see you.”

“You were?”

“Aye.” He runs his fingers through his hair, tugs at it, and Emma understands why it’s such a mess. He’s clearly in turmoil. His distress hurts her heart but before she can think of what to say to ease it he speaks again.

“Emma, listen,” he says, “I know I fucked things up, but—”

“You fucked things up?” She doesn’t mean to interrupt him but the words just burst out. That was what she planned to say to him.

“Aye, and I’m sorry but—”

She shakes her head. “Wait how did you fuck up?”

“I tried to push you too hard,” he says, in a voice dripping with disgust. “I should have slept in the chair last night. I shouldn’t have kissed you.”

“You regret kissing me?”

“No, I—I regret making you uncomfortable.” He yanks on his hair again, making her wince.

“But I kissed you back,” she points out. “I wanted to kiss you.”

“You were a bit worse for alcohol, love—”

“I still wanted to.”

He stares at her. “You did?” he whispers.

“Yes of course I did.” Emma’s head is spinning again. “Didn’t you get that from the morning at Granny’s?”

He visibly cringes, his ears turning pink. “I owe you an apology for that as well,” he says.

“What?”

“I don’t know what happened.” Killian is too caught up in his self-flagellation to see the way she gapes at him. “I woke up and the next thing I knew we were kissing and I… I couldn’t stop myself from...”

“Killian, I kissed you!”

He frowns. “Did you?”

“You really don’t remember?”

“I—I’m not at my sharpest first thing in the morning,” he replies. “It takes me a while to wake up fully.”

“Yeah, I got that.” She starts to laugh.

“Is this funny?” Killian sounds hurt.

“Not really, no. It’s just— we’ve had each other so wrong. I thought you didn’t want me.”

He snorts. “Why, because I practically begged you for months to go out with me? Because the first chance I got to spend time with you I jumped on with both feet?”

She glares at him. “Because I kissed you and you pushed me away. Twice.”

“I didn’t push you away, I just didn’t want to take advantage. To push you too hard.”

“Yeah, well I see that now.” She’s nearly shouting. “But it felt like rejection. And that plus all your other women, well...”

He frowns in confusion. “What women?”

“You know, all the women that are always leaving your apartment in the morning.”

“What are you talking about? If there are women fleeing my apartment I have no knowledge of it.”

“They’re not fleeing, they’re just, you know, leaving. After a night of—she waves her hand—you know. Sex hair and last night’s clothes. Those women.”

Killian looks completely baffled. “Swan, I haven’t slept with anyone in nearly a year,” he says. “I mean, yes, when I first moved here I had a few… dalliances, but once I—” he breaks off, ears going pink once again.

Emma gasps and her heart begins to race. He can’t possibly mean what she thinks he does. “Once you what?” she whispers. He reaches for his hair again but she catches his hand and holds it tightly. “Once you what, Killian?”

He swallows hard, then meets her eyes. “Once I met you,” he says gruffly. “After that I just couldn’t summon the interest anymore. It’s been a bloody inconvenience what with you not giving me the time of day, but there you are.”

“But I saw…” she trails off as she thinks back to the last time she actually saw any of those women. It’s... longer than she realised. Not since the first few months Killian lived in the apartment, in fact, when she glimpsed him in passing but before they officially met.

“Oh,” she said. “Well I feel dumb.” She looks up at him, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. “You really haven’t—because of me?”

“When you say it like that, I feel dumb,” he tries to joke. “But yes. I haven’t wanted anyone but you since we met.”

“I want you too,” she says softly. “I always have.”

He pulls her closer by their still-entwined hands, close enough that she can feel his breath on her temple, see the raw vulnerability in his eyes. “You’ve got me,” he says, softer still. “You always have.”

She fists her hand in the front of his shirt and pulls his lips to hers. He meets her open-mouthed, his own hand clenched in her hair and holding her close as they devour each other without hesitation or restraint. Emma pulls her hand from his so she can slide it beneath his shirt, desperate for the feel of his skin, and Killian curves his hand around her ass and pulls her hips hard against his.

Emma whimpers at the pressure of his cock against her, the small noise bringing just enough awareness into Killian’s lust-drenched brain that he realises they’re still standing in the middle of the hallway.

He breaks the kiss. “Emma,” he pants, letting his forehead rest against hers and trying not to notice how wrecked she looks.

“Hmmm?”

“I wonder if you’d care to share a bed with me again,” he says. “For more enjoyable activities this time.”

“More enjoyable than sleeping?” she teases. “That’s a bold statement. I love sleeping.”

“Bold, you say?” He grins at her cheek. “Is that a challenge? Because you know how I feel about those.”

“Definitely a challen—oh!” she cries as he scoops her up and carries her into his apartment, kicking the door shut behind them.

“So does this mean you’ll finally have dinner with me?” Killian asks much, much later as they lay entwined in the tangled sheets of his bed.

“If you want,” she replies, and Killian frowns.

“Of course I want,” he says. “I think we’ve established pretty firmly how much I want you.”

“But are you sure you want, like, an actual full-on relationship? I’m not the easiest person to be with, Killian. I work long hours and I don’t open up easily. I mean, you said yourself I’m prickly.” She bites her lip and he can see the fear and worry in her eyes.

“And as I told you, I like your prickles,” he says, running his hand up and down her back until she begins to relax. “I like everything about you.”

The other L word dances on the tip of his tongue but he swallows it back. She’s not ready for that yet. He puts the word into a kiss instead, letting her feel how much he treasures her, and when they break apart the worry is gone and her eyes are soft and happy. She snuggles against him with a contented sigh and in that moment he knows—knows—that he won't have to wait too long to tell her how he feels. And for now, the knowing is enough for him.

For now.

Three hundred and sixty three days later Emma wakes up warm in a very cold room. She grins and snuggles closer to the source of the warmth, her very own personal radiator.

Killian just rolls his eyes when she calls him that, but she knows that deep down he loves it.

He’s still asleep, his hand warm against her bare skin, his cheek on her hair. She nudges him and he opens his eyes, blinking sleepily.

“Morning, love,” he says.

“Morning yourself.” She rubs her cheek against his chest. “You remember the last time we woke up in this room?”

“Aye. You accosted me before I was properly awake and had your wicked way with me.” His morning voice is deep and rumbly and it still does funny things to Emma’s insides, even after nearly a year.

“Are you properly awake now?” she inquires.

“Not quite yet. Why don’t you accost me again?”

“Well, if you insist,” she purrs, and kisses him.

A moment later her phone begins to ring. They ignore it.

They linger in bed for as long as they dare, but Emma’s phone continues to ring and so they drag themselves up and get ready to head for Mary Margaret and David’s for Thanksgiving dinner.

Killian shrugs on his coat and feels around his various pockets for wallet, phone and keys. When he’s sure he has all three he scans the room for anything they’ve forgotten, then looks over to find Emma sitting on the bed watching him with a small smile.

“What?” he asks.

“Nothing.” She gets up and goes over to him, kisses him on the cheek. “I just love you.” The words come so easily to her now but they still make his heart soar each time he hears them. Just as it soars whenever he sees the framed poem above their bed, when he thinks about everything it represents for them, how far they both have come.

“I love you, too,” he replies. He tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, looks into her eyes. “Are you happy, Emma? Truly?”

“What? Of course I am.” She frowns. “Are you?”

“Very. More than I ever imagined I could be.”

“Me too.”

He kisses her, soft and sweet and full of love. “Are you ready to go?”

“Yeah, though I should probably call Mary Margaret back first to let her know we’re on our way.”

“All right. I’ll go check out and you meet me in the lobby when you’re finished.”

Mary Margaret answers on the first ring. “Emma!” She sounds half-panicked. “Where are you? When are you going to be here?”

“Um, in about an hour, I guess.”

“Really? Are you calling from the road?”

“No, Killian and I stayed last night in the inn where we got stranded last year. Kind of an anniversary thing.”

“Oh, that’s sweet.” Mary Margaret sighs. “Killian’s so sweet.”

“Mmhmm.” Returning to the inn was Emma’s idea, but she’s not about to admit it. Only Killian is allowed to see her soft, sentimental side. And besides, Mary Margaret’s not wrong. Killian is sweet.

“Well, I’m glad you’re not far, honestly. Regina and Robin are already here so the sooner you arrive the better.”

"We’ll be on our way as soon as Killian’s done checking out.”

“Great! See you soon, sweetie.”

“See you soon.”

“Did you sleep well?” asks Granny as she swipes Killian’s credit card.

“We did, very well. Bit cold this morning, though, the heater went out during the night.”

Granny nods. “Happens sometimes in that room, as you know.” You should know, her tone suggests, you requested that room specifically.

She hands back the card along with a pen the receipt for him to sign.

“I do indeed,” Killian agrees, signing his name with a flourish. “Oh, and by the way...” he gives her a razor sharp smile as he slides the receipt back across the reception desk. “I’m on to you, old woman.”

“What do you mean?” Granny tugs at the receipt but he doesn’t relinquish it.

“I know what you did last year,” he replies. “With the ‘only one room’, and the ‘broken’ heater. Are you aware that my girlfriend’s sister-in-law is Mary Margaret Nolan?”

“Darn it, Ruby,” huffs Granny. “That girl never could keep a secret.”

Killian thinks that’s rather unfair. Ruby has kept his and Emma’s secret admirably.

“Aye,” he growls, still holding the receipt. “And I have only one thing to say to you.”

“Oh? And what’s that?”

“Thank you.”

#cs fic #cs ff #cs ff au #captain swan #all the tropes #and now the best one #the happy ending #fluffy fluffety fluff #across the snowy places #profdanglaisstuff

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