#it's 3 am I am so tired but I wanted to put this out now haha

[dr-spencer-reids-queen]

My Love

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Pregnant!Reader

Word Count: ~600

Warnings: fluff

Summary: Pregnancy has been a rollercoaster of emotions, and the end goal is nearly here. However, you still have a few more bumps to get over. It’s a good thing you have Spencer to hold your hand through it all.

Square Filled: jennifer jareau for @spencerreidbingo

Author’s Note: any and all comments are greatly appreciated <3

x

Luck has always been on your side even since you understood the meaning of the word You have a loving family, a supportive sister, a degree in psychology, and a wonderful boyfriend turned husband. When JJ heard of your engagement to Spencer, she had the entire office celebrate with you two. 

She’s been your biggest supporter since you could walk. She’s older, so she’s always been there one step ahead of you, warning you of bumps and bruises along the path. Spencer has been a big supporter as well but there’s nothing like the love that comes from a sibling. She’s known you for your whole life. She knows you better than anyone.

She got married before you so she was able to offer advice, stuff that she had to suffer through. She bought a house first with her husband, so she was able to give you a list of things to look out for when you and Spencer were ready to put a down payment on a house. She had a kid before you, so you were able to be prepared when you found out you were pregnant.

The day you told her that you were pregnant, she burst with happiness. Michael finally has someone to grow up with. Sure, he has Henry but he’s older. Michael was just born so he’ll have a built-in best friend with your child. You’re not sure if you’re having a girl or a boy because you and Spencer want to be surprised.

However, pregnancy is not for the weak. At first, it was morning sickness, then it was being uncomfortable in just about anything you wore, then you got swollen feet and back pains, and now you just want the kid out. You’re nearing the end of your pregnancy where the cravings get just as bad as the back pain which is why you’re up at two in the morning. Spencer is lying in bed next to you sound asleep, and you’re trying really hard not to cry.

You’re starving but there is only one thing you’re craving. You could go up and make it yourself but your feet hurt so bad from walking all day yesterday trying to get this baby to come out. If only Spencer was up to get you some food, but you refuse to wake him up. He barely gets enough sleep as it is, and you won’t be the reason he’s so tired.

He’s a very light sleeper because of that, so he wakes up when he hears you sniffling.

“What’s wrong?” He leans over and turns the dim lamp on. “Is the baby okay?”

“The baby is fine,” you whisper.

“What’s wrong?”

“I’m… craving something but I can’t go get it because my feet ache and I didn’t want to wake you because you’re tired and now you’re awake and I’m sorry,” you cry harder.

Spencer sits up and pulls you in for a comforting hug. “Baby, it’s okay.”

“Are you sure?” you sniffle.

“Of course. What are you craving?”

“Chocolate covered strawberries with pickles but the pickles have to be cut into spears.”

Spencer nods and kisses you. “I’ll be right back.”

It hurts to see how tired he is even though he does what you ask of him. Still, the urge for the craving is a tad bit stronger than the urge to not wake Spencer. Ten minutes later, he walks back into the bedroom holding a plate of strawberries and pickles, and you smile widely when you smell it.

“Thank you,” you say. “I’m sorry for waking you up.”

“Anything for you, my love.” He grabs a strawberry and holds it out for you. “Now open up.” You do and he feeds you the sweet treat. “Are you happy?”

“Yes,” you say with your mouth full.

He pecks your lips and slides back underneath the covers. “Then so am I, but I’m going to go back to sleep.”

“Okay,” you say and take a bite of the pickles with the strawberries, a smile on your face.

x

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[sinnabarmoth]

Tribute for the Dragon (9/18)

(A/N: Halfway done! And it is still Christmas when I am posting this so consider this a very last minute Christmas present to all who celebrate and to those who don't! Love ya!)

Pairing: Dragon|Sylus x Fem|Reader

Summary: The morning after (i'm just letting the tags speak for this one.)

Content Warnings: Adult language. Blowjobs. Cunnilingus. Horns as handlebars. P in V. Dirty talk.

Length: 4k

Chapters: (1) (2) (3) (4) (5) (6) (7) (8)

Read on AO3

When you made it back to the mountain it was incredibly late, or incredibly early depending on how you looked at it. In an hour or so the sun would start to rise. You were tired and Sylus was tired and without any word to each other you meandered back to the bedroom together and collapsed onto the mattress to go to sleep.

Sylus pulled you close, keeping your body nestled in the curve of his body. You thought maybe it’d be uncomfortable considering how much of his arms was covered in scaled armor but nothing poked into you. You weren’t caged, you were protected. Before you drifted off to sleep he pressed one more kiss to the back of your neck.

You could not say how long you had slept or how late in the day it was when you woke. You really needed to talk to Sylus about getting a clock back here so you could gauge when you were waking up.

Speaking of Sylus. You were still pressed against him. Sylus was fast asleep yet. But not all of him as you soon realized. All through the night you had not felt any part of his armored arms poking into you, but you felt something now remarkably lower.

Slowly you turned out of his arms. He slid onto his back without you keeping him anchored on his side. The sheets dipped and rose over the curves of your body, but one part was noticeably more tented. Your legs pressed together as you carefully moved the sheets back, making sure not to wake Sylus. He had changed into looser, more comfortable pants to sleep in last night when you returned so there was little to resist the stretch of his cock.

Last night had been all about your pleasure, he hadn’t taken anything from you. Then on the way home he kept whispering all the things he planned to do to you in the morning, making you a flustered mess. You were going to return the favor before he woke up and put his plan to fuck you senseless into motion.

You kept an eye on his face, making sure he didn’t wake as you slid your hand past the waist of his pants and felt his hard cock against your palm. After so long spent thinking about it you finally had it in your hands. Sylus was still asleep but he seemed to shift some as you touched him.

A smile grew on your face as you extracted his cock from his pants so you could access it easier. Gods, it looked even bigger than when you saw it in the hot spring. You moved your hand up and down, stroking him, watching as he got harder and his cock grew red with need. You were a bit worried before that with him being a dragon there’d be some big difference between your biologies but you were glad it seemed to be as every bit as normal as a human one. Bigger yes, but otherwise normal.

A bit of pre-cum built at the head and you bowed your head to lick it up. Oh gods, he even tasted good too! It was normally salty and a bit bitter, but he was not bitter. He was spiced and sweet like a salted caramel dipped in cinnamon on your tongue. You wanted to taste more.

You took the tip of him into your mouth, swirling your tongue around the head of his cock. You opened your mouth wider and bobbed your head up and down, taking him down your throat a little at time. Were you going to be able to fit all of him in your mouth? You weren’t sure. The thought made you even wetter.

You kept one hand wrapped on his cock and moved the other between your own legs. You moaned around his cock as you began teasing your clit. Your eyes fell closed as you focused on bobbing your head in time with the strokes you played across your clit.

A hand fisted into your hair and your head was forced down fully. You gagged as his cock hit the back of your throat, tears welling in your eyes. “Play with fire and expect to get burned, little bird.”

It was awkward to do with his cock down your throat but you looked up through your watering vision to see Sylus awake with a hungry look in his eyes. “I feel I should thank you for such a pleasant wake up call.” he said, running his hand over the back of your head but not letting you up. “But I also know I didn’t give you permission. What should I so about that?”

You wanted to say something but quite literally could not get the words out.

He chuckled darkly, his cock twitching in your mouth. “I’ve thought of this exact image so much in my brain, actually seeing it, feeling it, is another thing entirely. Now that I have you here, what should I do? I could keep my hand fisted in your hair or use your mouth to jerk myself off or put you on your knees and hands behind your back as I fuck your throat.”

Oh gods above…

Your hand was still between your legs and as if on instinct you stared swiping at your clit again. Sylus caught the motion. “And I see you like that idea too. I’m learning so much about you, little bird.”

He pulled your head off his cock and you took in ragged breaths. You didn’t have much time to catch your breath before he pulled you back up the bed and trapped you under him. “Keep playing with yourself. I want those pretty little fingers of yours deep in your pussy. Stretch yourself out for me.” he said before claiming your lips in a bruising kiss. 

You did as he said and shoved two fingers into your cunt as he ravaged your mouth. You could feel his cock trapped between your bodies, grinding against your wrist.

“Sylus,” you murmured against his lips, “I…I’m gonna…”

“Already?” you could hear the humor in his voice. “My dear little bird, you wanted this so badly, didn’t you?”

You fucked your cunt faster. His voice alone, spoken in that deep primal growl could be enough to make you come.

“Well?” he said. “I asked you a question.”

“Yes.” your pussy clenched around your fingers. You could feel your orgasm building. “Yes I did. I do!”

“Good. Now don’t stop fucking that pretty pussy of yours until you come.” He moved further down to your neck, refreshing the bruises he put there last night and adding a few new ones.

His head dipped even lower to your chest. Your nipples strained against the thin white cotton of your sleep chemise. He tweaked one nipple in his hand, pinching and pulling on the hard sensitive bud and took the other into his mouth over the fabric. He sucked hard on it, lathing it with his tongue so the fabric turned sheer. He gave it a small tug with his teeth then traded, his mouth covering your other breast while his hand teased your other nipple through the wet cotton.

“Sylus! Fuck!” your legs were shaking, so close to release. “Sylus please! Please!”

“Go ahead. Come on your hand as I play with your tits. Come for me!”

So you did and it felt like your body had broken apart, shattered into a million pieces.

Your chest was heaving, your legs twitching, your hand still stuck in your cunt as you rode out the final waves and tingles of your orgasm. Sylus grabbed the hand that was between your legs and stuck your glistening fingers in his mouth, sucking the juices off of them. His eyes closed as he savored the taste.

“You taste divine.” he muttered, giving a gentle nip to your fingertip after he was done. “I want to taste more.”

“Oh gods, give me a second to breathe.” You placed a hand on his chest to slow him down.

“Hmm,” he clearly wanted to keep going but rolled off of you so you could take a moment to catch your breath. “I suppose this can give you the chance to disrobe in case you don’t want me to tear this nightgown off of you.”

“That too.” you sighed, curling your body towards him.

He tilted your head up and pressed a kiss to your forehead. “Good morning.” he said.

You laughed. “Good morning to you too.”

“Since we’re taking a moment to breathe before continuing, I feel there are a few things we should go over if we are committing to doing all of this.” he said. “There are certain things you should know and what we should try to avoid.”

“Like what and why?”

“Well, the biggest thing is biting.”

“Biting? A little too late for that, don’t you think?” you gestured to your neck.

“Yes. Honestly that was somewhat careless of me to bite you as much as I have.”

“Why?”

“Because biting while engaged in intimacy could accidentally make us mates.”

“Mates?”

“Yes. I suppose it is the closest thing to a human wedding you could get in the dragon world. Granted, biting alone cannot make us mates, there is a whole ritual for it that we’d have to engage in, vows that evoke magic to complete it all. But I do not know how many of the rules of dragons apply to me, so best to try and minimalize it as best we can. Once a bond is made, it cannot be undone.”

“Alright. And what happens if we do accidentally become mates? What does that mean?”

“Mating attunes the couple together on an emotional and physical level.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning wherever you would be, I would feel a pull towards you. Your pain is my pain, and your pleasure is my pleasure. It also opens the channel for breeding.”

You pressed your legs together, glad he wouldn’t be able to tell you were slightly excited by the idea of him breeding you. “When you say opens the channel…”

“Dragons can only breed when they are mated. So as long as we are not mates there should be no worry about you becoming pregnant.”

That was a relief. As much as the idea of him fucking you with intent to get you pregnant did turn you on, you knew you did not want a child yet.

“So…what are we going to do now?” you asked.

“Well, I only got a small taste of your arousal and I want to make a meal out of it. So you had better take off that nightgown now before I rip it off.”

You nodded, quickly shuffling around so you could pull the gown off over your head. Sylus had pushed his pants the rest of the way off. His eyes roamed over your naked form, taking in every dip and curve. “By the hells you’re exquisite.” he dragged a claw down your chest to your navel, watching as goosebumps erupted along your skin.

He got to your legs and pulled your knees apart. His tongue ran across to wet his lips as he stared at your cunt. “You are soaked, little bird.” He ran his mouth across your thigh, sucking bruises onto the soft supple skin. “And so warm.”

“Sylus…” you fisted your hands in the sheets.

“And so sweet.” he liked a stripe straight up your cunt to your clit.

Your head fell back against the pillows as he teased your clit with the tip of his tongue, working over the bundle of nerves mercilessly. He sucked hard on it and your hips jumped to meet his touch. He placed a hand on your abdomen to keep you still as he continued to assault your clit until your legs were shaking.

“You’ve made such a mess,” he whispered, giving your clit a final kiss before he moved down to your pussy. “So much arousal is leaking out of this pussy. You want to give me a feast, don’t you?”

“Yes, please Sylus!”

“Then I will enjoy my meal with vigor.” he dove between your legs, lapping up the arousal that leaked out of you.

He groaned, sending tiny vibrations up your spine. He wouldn’t stop talking, even with his mouth preoccupied. It was hard to hear muffled between your legs but you thought you picked out a few short words. “Taste…drown in…fuck…every day…”

His tongue plunged into your cunt and you tried to close your legs. He grabbed one thigh with his hand and the other was grabbed by his tail. He pulled your legs wide, keeping you spread open as far as you could go. “None of that.” he muttered, “I want easy access to my breakfast.”

He went back to devouring you. The sounds his mouth made against you were obscene and not at all quiet. If there was any doubt to how wet you were it was gone. If anyone else had been in this mountain they would have been able to hear the wet slurping sounds that accompanied your moans. And Sylus was not stopping!

You could feel yourself moving towards another orgasm at lightning speeds. Your body was restless, unable to writhe with him pinning you down. All you had were your hands. They went from fisting the sheets to rubbing your breasts. Until that is you reached for the man between your legs. Your intent was to grab his hair but touched his horns instead.

You grabbed his horns, pulling him closer so he couldn’t pull back even a little from your cunt.

The moment you did he moaned, his eyes opening and staring straight at you from between your legs. His pupils were blown wide and you remembered what he said before about his horns being sensitive. A smile grew on your face and you gripped them harder. He moaned again.

You couldn’t really see much past Sylus’s hulking frame but you were sure you felt the bed moving further down. No doubt Sylus grinding his red hot cock against the mattress. Fuck you wanted on it! Wanted to be what he was rutting into instead. But you could tell Sylus wasn’t letting you go anywhere until you came on his face.

Your words were replaced with sharp panted moans as you felt your climax edging closer. Sylus was not letting you drop his gaze and it was that intense eye contact as he drank you down, body and soul, that made you tip over the edge. Your head snapped back against the pillows, moaning aloud to the ceiling as you came all over his face. Your only tether to reality was the grip you kept around his horns as your ground your cunt against him.

“Fuck…” you whimpered. Every little touch made your breath hitch.

Sylus released your legs at last but you didn’t even have the energy to close them.

“Have I worn you out already?” he asked, tracing soothing patterns along your thighs.

Your eyes cracked open again. “Not yet.” you shuffled onto your knees despite the pleasant ache in your body. “Not until I get to fuck you properly.”

“You are a wonder.” he kissed you and you could taste yourself potently on his tongue. “And since you like being in charge, I’ll let you take the lead this time. If you want to fuck me, then fuck yourself on me. I want to see you bouncing on my cock.”

“Oh gods…” Such filthy words.

“If there are any gods they’re not looking down on us, little bird. They don’t have my permission to see or hear you in this moment. This is all mine.” he grabbed you flipped you over so you were on top of him. “Now fuck me.”

This man, this dragon, was going to be the death of you. You would not survive hearing him say such things every day.

You shuffled back a bit so you were straddled over his hips. His cock was between you, still hard and begging to be touched.

You took him in your hand and pressed the head of his dick to your clit, teasing it again. Sylus watched your movements, breathing heavily as you smeared his pre-cum over your clit. Then you lifted your hips up, notched him at the entrance of your cunt, and sunk down.

It took some time, even after how much prep had gone into stretching you out you still needed to shimmy yourself down the entire length of it a bit at a time. Rocking your hips up and down, taking more inside yourself with every shallow thrust. Fuck he was so big! He was stretching you out like you had never been before. There was a slight burn but it only added to how good you were feeling finally having him inside of you.

You finally made it down fully, your hips flush to his as he laid fully sheathed inside you. You let out a shuddering breath as you let yourself just feel him in you. Fuck you felt so full! Your hands were on either side of the gem in his chest, keeping yourself balanced.

“You’re so fucking tight.” Sylus panted, “Didn’t even know if I was going to be able to fit in you for a moment there.”

“Barely.” you took in a shaky breath. “Why did we not do this sooner?”

“Because you got all embarrassed about it and said that the one time you masturbated in front of me that it was an anomaly that would not be repeated. So much for that, huh?”

“You really want to be a brat about it while I’m sitting on your cock?”

“I think the fact that you are sitting on my cock means that I do get to tease you about it. You wouldn’t even let me see you naked and now here you are.”

“If you’re going to be a dick I can just get off and take care of this myself.”

“Now why would you do that when you said just a minute before that you were not done until you got to fuck me properly?”

You smacked his chest. “You are such an ass!”

“That’s hardly a way to talk to your master.” he had on a wide shit-eating smile. “Now, do as your master says and ride my cock like I know you want to.”

You bit back a colorful response. Pleasure first. Wringing his ass for being a cocky bastard later.

You lifted your hips up till just the tip was in you then slid back down. Your body was getting used to the size of him, opening up a little more with each thrust. The friction went from burning to so sweet in no time at all. It felt as if he had been made to fit perfectly in you.

Your thrusts got faster and shallower as you began chasing your pleasure in earnest. Fuck you felt so full!

“That’s it.” Sylus moaned, holding you by the hips, helping to keep you moving. “You feel so good wrapped around me. Don’t stop.”

You didn’t think you could even if you wanted to. Your body was working off of instinct. Chasing pleasure and release, recklessly and without any inhibitions. All your body new was harder, faster, more. More! More! More!

You grabbed your breasts, playing with them as you rutted against Sylus.

“Do what you need to make yourself feel good.” Sylus kneaded your ass. “You look beautiful like this. Wild and desperate with lust. Moaning like a bitch in heat.”

Your pussy clenched around him. “Do you like that? Like when I point out how shameless you are? How do you think your little village friends would feel about you, knowing that you’re bouncing on a dragon’s cock like this?”

“Sylus, please…” you fell forward, catching yourself on his shoulders. You weren’t going to last much longer.

“So informal. Am I not your master?” he said, his voice a low growl. “I can tell you’re close. If you want me to help you come you need to ask.”

“Sy--” you got a warning hit to your ass when you tried to say his name. It only ignited you more. You were tempted to keep saying Sylus instead just to get him to spank you more.

“Master,” you said, your voice slurring with pleasure, “Will you please help me come? I want to come on your cock. Please!”

“That’s better.” he grabbed you firmly and started fucking up into you. “Oh hells, I’m gonna come. Want me to come with you?”

“Yes! Yes! Please master!” you whined. “I want you to come with me! I want you come inside me!”

“Oh fuck!” his claws dug into your flesh. If he had stabbed into you, you hadn’t noticed. You were so close! So fucking close!

“Kiss me!” you struggled to form words. “Please!”

Sylus claimed your lips in a searing kiss. Your attention was elsewhere so it was slightly awkward, a little sloppy. But damn it did it just feel so good to kiss him. Your hands wove into his hair as you moaned into his mouth.

“Sylus!” Out of your mouth came a sharp scream of pleasure that had tears rolling down your face. It felt like your body had been struck by a lightning bolt as you came with Sylus. Your cunt clamped down hard around him, milking ever drop of his cum out of his cock.

He was still fucking up into you as he came, slowing down and letting you ride out the high for as long as possible. You were breathing hard, little whines and moans still escaping your throat as you danced between pleasure and reality.

You melted against Sylus, your body going lax as the orgasm faded away and all that was left were two sweaty bodies still mingled together. Sylus had released your hips and crossed his arms over your back, holding you close to him as you caught your breath.

“Still with me?” he asked, his voice gentler now.

“Physically or mentally? Cause I’m not sure which is which right now.” you nuzzled your nose against his neck.

“Wasn’t too rough? Didn’t hurt you?”

“No. It was good. Really good.” you felt like going back to sleep. “Are you as tired as I am?”

“No, but I get the feeling you don’t have as much stamina as me.” he smoothed out your hair. “Lasted longer than I thought you would though.”

“Yay…” you shifted on top of him. His soft cock still wedged in your aching pussy. “Can we…?”

“Yeah. Here we go, I’m gonna pull out now.” he pulled you off him and a shiver ran up your spine without him inside you anymore. You could feel the warmth of his cum spill out of you.

“Gonna need to clean the sheets now.”

“Don’t worry about that right now. Relax, you’re going to feel the after effects of this soon, so rest now.”

“Yeah…” you looked up into his red eyes and smiled. “Can I have another kiss?”

“You can have whatever you want, my little bird.” he kissed you sweetly. “Anything for you.”

[josiebobozie]

𝐓𝐎𝐎 𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐓

𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭 - could i request a scenario with reader helping nanami relax after a hard day of work? massage, bath, cuddle however you envision it :) looking forward to seeing your work!

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬- f!reader, established relationship, husband nanami, oral (male receiving), male whimpering

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞- ahhh!! my first fic on here <3 i am so so excited to share it with all of you. i tried my best to stick to the request, but i did get a little carried away haha i apologize for this being smut. i can’t wait to see what the future holds! alsooo i apologize that there is no word count. i wrote this in the tumblr app. I promise future fics will have a word count.

Kento Nanami was nothing if he was not a hard working, honest man. He had always poured his heart and soul into his work, even if it wore him out. He had you, his beloved wife, to work so hard for—to provide for.

When he married you, he had promised you that you would never have to work another day in your life. He was a man of his word, and kept his promise. Even if that meant putting in long hours behind a computer or fighting curses. He would do anything if that meant he could provide you with a good life.

Nanami was sitting at his desk in the office of the apartment the two of you share. The clock that hung on the wall above him read 6:04PM. He sighed as he rubbed his forehead. He was supposed to be off over an hour ago… yet here he was, still trying to finish a document that was supposed to be turned in by the end of the day.

In his frustration, he almost didn’t notice as the door creaked open as you quietly stepped in. You were greeted by the sight of your dutiful husband nearly hunched over his computer. A frown formed on your lips—you could tell he was stressed.

“Ken?” you called, your tone warm as you approached him from behind.

“Yes, my love?” Nanami replied, not turning his head to look at you. His tired eyes focused on the screen in front of him and fingers working diligently on his keyboard.

“It’s getting late, you know. Why don’t you close the computer and come join me for dinner?” you offered, as you placed a hand on his shoulder. “Can’t you finish that tomorrow?”

“No, I can’t, y/n… it was due an hour ago,” he huffed as his long fingers worked away at his keyboard. He didn’t mean to come off so rude, his voice was tinged with the exhaustion he was feeling.

You frowned, standing there for a moment in the silence. It was rare he called you by your name, and it took you off guard a little bit. This was a dire situation that needed to be remedied.

Your other hand moved to lay on his other shoulder, feeling his muscles beneath the fabric. “Baby, I can tell you are so stressed. I’m sure you can finish this tomorrow,” you cooed into his ear as you leaned down. Your fingers started working in firm, circular motions as you began massaging him through his shirt. “You are sooo tense…”

You could hear a low groan of relief slip from Nanami’s lips as he leaned back into your touch. He loved you so much, it probably wouldn’t take much convincing to get him to close his computer.

“I’m sorry for being so rude, my love,” he said, his voice filled with regret as he recalled how he spoke to you earlier. His focus was on your hands effortlessly working his shoulder. The tension built up in them starting to melt away.

“Don’t need to be sorry,” you promised him. “Close your computer and let me make it all better?”

Nanami turned his head to look up at you. Every time was just like the first time. You were the most beautiful woman in his eyes. “Please…” he sighed, almost pleading with you.

He quickly saved the document he was working on. If anyone wanted to complain, he would deal with that tomorrow. For now, he wanted to be in the moment with you. With his wife.

Your hands moved off his shoulders to snake around him. Your fingers quickly popping the first few buttons of his shirt, exposing his chest. You moved the fabric off his shoulders for better access.

Low sighs left Nanami’s lips as he tipped his head back. If this wasn’t heaven, he didn’t know what was. Your fingers kneading his bare flesh was quickly washing away the stress of his day. “My love, that feels amazing…”

You hummed, pleased with the job you were doing. Watching your tensed up husband unravel right in front of you was enough to peak your arousal. Leaning in, you planted chaste kisses on the side of his neck and moving up to his ear. You nipped playfully on his earlobe, earning a growl from his lips.

“Was this your plan all along?” Nanami jested, though he had no intentions of stopping you. His trousers were beginning to grow…uncomfortably tight.

“No,” you said, a devilish smirk crossing your lips. “But I can tell my baby needs to let off some steam.”

Your hands moved from his shoulders to the back of his chair as you turned him around. And what a sight you were greeted with. Your husband splayed out in his work chair right in front of you, shirt undone and noticeable erection poking through his tan pants.

Falling to your knees in front of him, your hands found purchase on his strong thighs. The material of his pants accentuated the curves of his muscles. You took your time feeling up his thighs as your hands worked their way up to just below his crotch.

Nanami watched you from above in awe. To him you were perfect. Could do no wrong. He needed you—it was primal. “Don’t tease now…” he nearly pleaded with you as he shifted in his chair, trying to relieve some of the pressure cause by the constriction of his pants.

“Tease? I’m not teasin’ you, Ken,” you cooed as you batted your eyes up at him. You were taking your time to appreciate him, but you could tell his patience was running thin.

Your fingers worked to undo his belt before moving on to the button of his pants. You had done this more times than you could count, so it was a matter of seconds before his pants were undone and his boxers were exposed. There was not much to leave to the imagination as you marveled at the imprint of his cock.

As you freed him from the constraints of his briefs, Nanami let out a long sigh. The cool air hitting his hot, sensitive skin sent shivers up his spine. Your mouth watered as your eyes took in every inch. It had never been any surprise to you that Nanami was hung. But every time you saw him exposed like this had left you in complete and utter awe.

You reached up, tongue sticking out to draw a long wet stripe up his shaft, savoring the slightly salty flavor of his skin. Your husband watching from above, mouth hanged wide open as he ogled you. His eyes begging for more.

As you reached the top of his cock, you took the head into your mouth, feeling a bead of his precum coating your tongue. You hummed around his swollen flesh as your head pushed down further, slowly taking him into your mouth inch by inch.

“O-oh…” Nanami sighed as he felt you envelope his length in your mouth. His thighs tensed as he felt your cheeks hallow and your mouth become like a vacuum around him. He rested a hand on your head, gently guiding you down further.

You mumbled something that sounded like, “Love you.” Soon feeling the head of your husband’s cock brushed up against the back of your throat. Years of practice and training your gag reflex to take his cock were really coming in handy.

“Y/N… I love you, too,” he said, his voice low and saturated with lust. As much as he wanted to watch, your mouth effortlessly working his cock made him lull his head back. He let out a whimper as he felt himself bottom out in your throat. You wanted to giggle at the sound, loving the effect that you had on him.

You lifted your head, tongue massaging a thick vein that ran up the underside of his cock, before delving back in. You repeated this over and over again, making your husband nearly squirm in his office chair. If your mouth would have been free, your lips would have been curled into a smirk.

“So… fuck… so good for me,” Nanami moaned loudly, his eyes now back on you. His fingers stroking your soft hair.

He could have sworn that he was about to die of a heart attack when your eyes looked up to meet his. He worshiped you and your beauty and to see you taking care of him like this… he could only hope to repay the favor. “Beautiful…” he cooed breathlessly as his fingers traced along your extended jaw that had been covered in a mixture of your saliva and his precum.

Pop!

Was the sound your mouth made when you slipped Nanami’s cock out of your mouth which was quickly replaced by your hand. Your fingers wrapped tightly and firmly around his girth as you stroked him.

“Feeling better, Ken?” you purred as you rest your head on one of his thighs, watching as your hand diligently worked his cock. The saliva from your mouth acting as lube as your digits glided up and down.

“Yes…” Nanami huffed. Your hand was working miracles on his cock, but he would be lying if he said he didn’t miss your warm mouth. A groan slipped from his mouth as his hips bucked into your hands. He could feel his orgasm on the horizon.

You watched as his hips thrust against your hand. He was close and you could tell. Maybe it was the way his chest was heavy with each breath, or maybe it was the sweat that collected on his brow. Or maybe the way he was pumping his cock into your hand in attempt to reach his high.

“Can I… can I cum in your mouth?” he asked politely despite his heavy breathing and moaning. You giggled at the request, loving how he was always a gentleman to you even when you were doing dirty things to him.

You didn’t respond. You left a chaste kiss on his tight balls before returning your mouth to take in the red, pulsing head of his cock. You took no time to bob your head up and down, quickly pumping your mouth full of his cock. You took so much pride in taking care of him like this. To be the only one to see him like this.

Nanami was a mess. His parted lips letting out a chain of moans and utterances of your names. His toes curled inwards as he felt something rising to the surface.

Crying out your name, Nanami shot thick, syrupy ropes of cum into your willing mouth. His hips bucked slightly as his seed spilled into your throat before going limp in his office chair.

You pulled back, swallowing his cum before wiping off your mouth with the back of your hand. Your husbands hand trapped your chin, tilting your head up to face him.

“Thank you,” he said quietly, finally catching his breath. He did not know how he would get through these long days without you, his wife, by his side.

Your lips curled into the sweetest smile as you beamed at him. “Don’t need to thank me, Ken,” you promised him as you stood up, feeling the soreness in your knees from being planted on the floor. “Let me run you a bath and then we can have dinner?” you offered as you reached a hand out to him.

Nanami felt content in his soul as he took your hand in his as he hoisted himself out of his chair with wobbly legs from the aftermath of his orgasm. His eyes catching the sparkle of your wedding band. He was wondering to himself how he had gotten so lucky. He dutifully followed you to your shared bathroom, anticipating a warm bath for his tired muscles.

“Darling, you are just too sweet for me.”

𝐭𝐚𝐠-𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭: @decodenn @matt-rym @bakugou-jpg

𝙞 𝙙𝙤 𝙣𝙤𝙩 𝙖𝙪𝙩𝙝𝙤𝙧𝙞𝙯𝙚 𝙖𝙣𝙮 𝙠𝙞𝙣𝙙 𝙤𝙛 𝙥𝙡𝙖𝙜𝙞𝙖𝙧𝙞𝙨𝙢. 𝙙𝙤 𝙣𝙤𝙩 𝙘𝙤𝙥𝙮 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙥𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚 𝙢𝙮 𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙠 𝙤𝙣𝙩𝙤 𝙖𝙣𝙮 𝙤𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧 𝙥𝙡𝙖𝙩𝙛𝙤𝙧𝙢.

[vigilante24ish]

A Thorn By Thy Side

Agatha Harkness x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 1998

Chapter 3:

You had partially expected Agatha to leave you in that basement/lair of hers until she had grown tired of you. So, it came to you as a surprise when she headed for the stairs leading up, and her magic kept you levitated, following after her.

So here you were, positioned on a chair, legs and hands bound in front of you with thin purple magic threads. Now that you were away from the lair and those runes, you could handle her attacks, but something told you that she was not a woman who had fallen for the same trick twice.

Your eyes followed her as she moved easily in this urban little house, masked outside by faking the image of a simple wooden cabin. It made you wonder whom Agatha could be running from to go to such extremes as hiding the true image of a house.

Then again, she might just wish not to be bothered by any passersby or hikers? Honestly, you could not tell for sure, but you knew it had a deeper meaning, and she let it be.

A mug of warm coffee was suddenly in your field of vision, putting a halt to any thoughts you had for the moment. Blinking, you looked up at the holder of the mug, and you were surprised to find Agatha.

Yet, you did not accept it right away.

Instead, you eyed the mug carefully and then her, silently showing her that you did not trust her or whatever she might have put in there.

She seemed to catch up with it, for she rolled her beautiful blue eyes at your drama.

“You don’t trust me?” she questioned, though the answer was pretty obvious to you.

You narrowed your eyes in defiance, not letting your bound position or the fact that you were a prisoner actually break you. “Should I?” you snapped back.

She pressed her tongue behind her teeth, leaving a quick ‘Tch’ sound, clearly unhappy with your drama. “If I wanted to kill you, I assure you I wouldn’t take the long way of actually poisoning you.”

You thought about her argument momentarily, and you realized that she had made a point. Of course, she could also poison you just enough to torture you, hoping if you were close to death, you would open your mouth and confess whatever the fuck she wanted to know.

Ultimately, your dry lips and the fact that you had no liquid for a while won over your internal conspiracies. Thanks to the magic binds, you opened your palms as much as you were allowed and let her hand you the mug, the coffee inside still warm.

It was unknown to you what time of the day was or how long you had been out. However, considering you had tried to capture her in the early afternoon, you figured it was past nightfall.

Unfortunately for you, the small living room you were currently in had blackout curtains drawn, making it impossible for you to see outside for any signs of daylight. There was no clock anywhere, and you wondered how she knew what time of the day it was.

You brought the mug to your lips and slowly took a sip, surprised by the sweetness in your coffee. You had a knack for sweet things, whether pastries, chocolates or just a lot of sugar in your morning coffee.

After you felt the hot liquid go down your throat, you lowered the mug and focused on Agatha, who got comfy on an armchair, positioned to look at you.

Agatha was studying you just as you studied her. A playful smirk on her lips drew your attention.

“Sweet enough for you?” she asked, and like the prideful peacock she was, she was ready to flash her fancy tale at the fact that she had figured you out.

You chose not to give her the satisfaction of knowing she was right. “How did you know?”

Her smirk remained. “What can I say? I am an excellent judge of character,” she answered, moving one hand to emphasize her flare.

Eventually, you would come to notice that she used her hands a lot, elegant long fingers dramatically joining her sharp comments as the faintest traces of magic could be seen by their blackened edges.

It was your turn to roll your eyes at her drama and merely suppress any unwelcome comments by drowning them with hot coffee.

“Why am I here?” you finally questioned after a full minute of just pure silence between the two of you.

“Would you prefer to go back to the lair? Because I can arrange that.”

If you were anyone else, you would have immediately reacted and argued against being sent back to the lair, back to the place that truly made you vulnerable. But you were not just anyone else.

Years of training in the Academy and multiple missions beneath your belt made you a veteran in such situations. Even your poker face had been worked on to the point that any mortal could not read your thoughts.

Now, as for magical beings went... that remained to be seen.

“You know what I meant,” you commented, showing her that she was not going to have the upper hand in this conversation.

Something sparkled within her blue eyes at your defiance, at your unbroken spirit. It was not every day that Agatha met someone like you, so stubborn and untamed. This was what made you interesting but also challenged her to find a way and get what she wanted from you, one way or another.

“Thought you would like to be treated a little more like a human being,” she pointed out the obvious, and yet your look did not change. “Fine. You have something within you, and I am interested in what it is. Now I can find a way and drag it out of you, or...” There it was, that sparkle again. “We can find ourselves on more common ground.”

You arched an eyebrow, clearly not believing her—at least not truly. She could be trying to present herself as a better person to gain your trust, and perhaps, had your first meeting been different, it would have worked.

But you were too sceptical, too careful with everything, to just drop your guard around her.

Suddenly, Agatha pressed two fingers against her temple. “My god, are you always so paranoid?” she asked, rubbing her temples as she felt a throbbing weak pain making an entrance.

You blinked, once, twice... then you frowned, trying to understand what she meant... and then it dawned on you. That sparkle you swore you saw in her eyes, the way she seemed to know how sweet you took your coffee...

“You have been reading my mind?” you asked, though it felt more like a statement than a question. “All this time?”

Agatha sighed. “Well, I have been trying. But you have so many inner monologues, I feel as if I am watching a boring biography turned into a documentary.”

“I am surprised you know what any of those things mean,” you scoffed before you could process what you just said.

To your surprise, Agatha smirked. “Clever. Perhaps the cleverest thing you had said in a while.”

You pressed your lips until they formed a thin line, clearly not liking her well-targeted comments that were meant to draw a reaction out of you. To battle it, you chose to change the topic and hope you could get something out of this as well.

“If you can read my mind, why not just take what you need? Why keep me here, playing all nice?”

“I told you, hon. You interest me. You have something more, and I am not planning to let that go so quickly.”

Her cryptic words started to irk you. “What the fuck do I have then? Except for those stupid symbols on my arms?”

Agatha took joy in hearing you snap slowly, the rising tone of your voice a personal success. That was the first step she needed from you. She needs you to react, speak before your mind can stop you, and expose what you subconsciously held under lock and key.

She could always force it out of you, use her magic, but where was the fun in that?

Slowly, the powerful witch showed up. Every move she made and every step she took radiated pure confidence, and you could not help but silently admire her for that. The way she held herself without fear, without a single care in the world.

She knew she held the power at the moment, and she made sure to remind you every second of it.

And surprisingly, a part of you actually liked it. You found a weak voice at the back of your head admiring her confidence and what a dominant figure she could be even in such a simple, silent room.

“Oh, but you see...” Agatha started slowly. “Those pesky little symbols on you, they do not work just on anyone. Imagine the world if any useless being tattooed a rune on them,” she scoffed, amused by such a crazy idea.

This caught your attention. “So, what makes me special to make those runes work?”

“Now we are on the same page,” Agatha said. “But you shouldn’t be asking me that question. It is you who have those answers.”

Once again, her cryptic answers irked you. This time, you could not hold back the sarcasm. “If you are so confident that I have the answers, why don’t you show me, huh? I mean, aren’t you supposed to be an all-powerful witch?”

The idea settled in Agatha’s mind faster than you expected, and it was too late to take back your words, as you were already regretting the idea.

“If you are so willing,” she smirked and headed towards you.

“No, no, no,” you repeated, trying to push yourself harder against the wooden back of the chair as if you could somehow magically phase through it and escape her.

“Relax, hon. I am not going to harm you.”

“Your words are not very reassuring.” You argued.

Agatha came to a halt in front of you, a hand on her waist. She looked down at you, dark curls framing her face to a perfect angle while her bright blue eyes locked on your form.

For a moment, you breathed in, muscles tensing in anticipation of what might come. Yet nothing did happen, and you were left staring back at her, trapped in that chair.

“Aren’t you a bit curious?” Agatha suddenly asked. “Don’t you want to know why you have those runes on you? Why do they work the way they do?”

You thought for a moment, and you dared to break the eye contact, for the shade of her blue eyes was not helping you think.

Truthfully, you were curious. You had them as long as you could remember their origin, a blurry memory that never made sense to you. Perhaps this might be the only way and the only chance you could have to find out.

In the end, you sighed in defeat. “Fine. Help me learn,” you said as you looked up at her. “But no mind tricks whatsoever.”

Agatha dramatically dragged a black-tipped finger across her heart, forming an invisible cross on her clothes. “Cross my heart.”

“And hope you die?” you continued for her, earning an eye-roll from her.

“Funny. Now, sit properly if we are to do things right.”

[cecilysass]

Beacon (3/6)

Read on AO3 | Tagging @today-in-fic and my poangpal @libbytxf

Chapter 3

Scully clutches a cup of tea, struggling for control of her expression. It’s hardly unusual for Mulder to be late, or for Mulder not to answer his phone. But this isn’t a case looking into a far-reaching conspiracy, and he wasn’t chasing down some train carrying mysterious cargo. He just went to a small community’s historical archives.

“He couldn’t have gone that far,” Banoy says soothingly, voicing her thoughts. “There isn’t any place to go in this town.”

She’s sitting again at the sunny table in the kitchen, the papers from the medical examiner spread in front of her. When she staggered in from the frigid outdoors at the agreed time, Duncan suggested she wait for Mulder in the kitchen, and then they could have lunch. Since then, Duncan has been busy, popping in and out, preoccupied with answering the phone, talking to guests and staff.

Banoy, on the other hand, has been at the stove, making some kind of Filipino chicken and rice soup and cheerful conversation. The smell of ginger and garlic wafts tantalizingly through the air. Scully is hungry, and if Mulder had come when he said, they could already be eating. She could be explaining what she found at the medical examiner, which she’d been excited to share.

When Mulder does show up in the door, disheveled and carrying an untidy stack of paper, the soup has long been simmering, and she’s downright cranky.

“Hey, Scully,” he says, sounding tired. “Duncan said you were back here.”

“Yes,” she says sharply, sitting up stock straight. “Waiting for you. You’re forty-five minutes late.”

This seems to vaguely surprise him, and she has the urge to stand up and forcefully push him over. “Oh, am I?” He drops the stack of papers on the table in front of her, partially covering her reports from the medical examiner. “Sorry about that. I must have lost track of time.”

She presses her lips together so hard she feels a jaw muscle twitch.

“Something smells really good,” he says, looking over towards Banoy at the stove. “Did you already eat?”

“I did not,” she snaps. “As I said, I’ve been waiting.” Finally her tone seems to get Mulder’s attention. His head whips around to look at her.

Banoy, stirring the pot, turns around and gives them a polite smile. “Hey,” he says. “Why don’t I serve up some bowls and give you some space to have your F.B.I. partner talk?”

***

They spoon soup into their mouths in silence for a few minutes, and Mulder watches Scully carefully for hints about what she’s thinking. She is staring determinedly out the large window, apparently unwilling to talk.

He knows she hates it when he vanishes and goes incommunicado. This issue has come up before in their partnership. But her anger in this instance seems a little over the top, doesn’t it? He was only late for lunch. It hadn’t really been that long.

He sips another spoonful of soup. It’s delicious, thick with rice, exactly what he’s in the mood for after being out in the cold. But he can barely focus on what he’s eating, his insides churning with anxiety. He can’t help but wonder if this is about more than him being late. He can’t help but worry that she is really upset with him for different reasons altogether.

Does she suspect that all of this ghost business—and his ungraceful reaction to it—suggests maybe his feelings have crossed an inappropriate line? Is she second guessing every one of his motivations?

She lifts the spoon to her perfect lips, precisely slurping, her face a mask.

“Scully, I’m sorry,” he tries again hesitantly. “I don’t mean to be … inconsiderate.” He lets the word hang in the air, allowing her to interpret it as she wants.

She puts the spoon down and sighs deeply, her eyes closing for a few seconds and then opening to take him in.

“It was inconsiderate,” she says. She pauses. “I do find I’m growing more forgiving now that I’ve eaten.” Some of his tension releases. “But Mulder, you need to learn to check a clock. Or your phone.”

“I know,” he says, eager to accept responsibility. “I know. You’re right. I’m sorry.” He bites his lip, unsure whether they’re ready to move on. She nods and resumes eating, which he takes to be a good sign. “Do you, uh, want to talk about what we found out this morning?” he adds.

“All right,” she says. “Yes.” There's a tiny glint in her eyes, and he knows there’s something she is excited to share. He feels relief wash over him. This is a normal interaction. Maybe he’s not completely exposed here. “These are copies of the autopsy reports on the three victims,” she says.

She places three pieces of paper in front of his bowl, and by reflex, he pulls back. He’s had his stomach turned by more autopsy photos than he’d care to count.

“No photos,” she reassures him. “Just look, here, at this box on each of the forms. All three have the same official cause of death, ‘sudden cardiac arrest.’”

She places a small fingertip on the line stating cause of death on Austin Spantikow’s report, looking at him expectantly. Mulder nods cautiously. They knew this much.

“Now usually when this is the cause of death, they’ll be some underlying cardiovascular issue—coronary artery disease, a congenital heart defect,” she continues. “But it is possible for cardiac arrest to happen with no easily identifiable cause. Even to young and healthy people. The heart is electrical. And if the electricity goes out for some reason… well…”

“Lights out,” Mulder says grimly. It’s making his own heart pump faster just thinking about it. “But … it’s not that common, right?”

“Not terribly uncommon, actually,” Scully says. “A leading cause of death in the United States, as I said. But … three healthy people with no known risk factors experiencing sudden cardiac death in the same location in a short time frame? The odds do seem pretty slim.”

“I don’t suppose the ME found any evidence of the kind of toxin you were talking about? Your heart stopper dust?”

“No,” Scully says. “Unfortunately, they wouldn’t have run that kind of toxicology. I’ll think of some other way to follow up on that. But Mulder, there’s something else.” She places her finger emphatically on one of the other pieces of paper. “In Jim Knight’s report, there’s some evidence of pulmonary edema.”

“Ah ha.” Mulder scratches his face. “Something having to do with lungs?”

“Fluid in lungs,” she says. “Like you would expect to see from a drowning victim.”

“A drowning victim.”

“Yes,” Scully confirms with a nod.

“Like Leander in the myth.”

“Like Leander in the myth,” Scully agrees emphatically. “And Hero. And Sophronia and her lover, according to the ghost story Duncan told us.”

Mulder frowns. “Where was Spantikow found again?”

“In bed,” she says. “In his room by himself. No obvious method of drowning.” She puts her finger on a line on another piece of paper. “And the woman, Elena Denney, she was found slumped over her computer. But there’s mention on her report of some frothy fluid in her airways.”

Mulder stares at her, mulling this over. He taps his fingertips on the table. “Did the ME have an explanation for any of this?”

Scully scoffs. “No,” she says. “And at the risk of sounding elitist, these reports aren't the work of a pathologist. There’s the bare minimum of description. It makes me wonder what else was present and missed, and whether there were any indications of drowning on Spantikow, too—maybe that were ignored because they didn’t fit the perceived cause of death.”

Mulder resists the urge to clutch his hand to his own heart. He regards his partner. “What is your explanation, Scully?”

“Sudden cardiac arrest is often the cause of death in drowning victims,” Scully says. “Without the other signs of drowning—liquid in the body cavity, for example—it would be hard to distinguish cardiac arrest from drowning … from any other kind of cardiac arrest.”

Mulder’s eyebrows lift. “So… you think they drowned. In their hotel rooms. Without water.”

“There is a phenomenon called delayed drowning. A person is submerged in water, some gets into the lungs, and much later—hours, days—it manages to cause pulmonary edema. But it’s very rare.”

“Three times in a row at the same hotel also seems unlikely?”

“Exactly,” she agrees. “Another possibility is that maybe someone wanted it to be death by drowning that didn’t look on the surface like death by drowning,” Scully says. “Maybe someone is using the Hero and Leander story, as well as Sophronia’s story, for personal inspiration for homicide.” She shrugs. “I don’t know, Mulder. It’s intriguing.”

“I wish there were some way to know if it was salt water in his lungs,” Mulder muses, tapping his fingers on the table again. “The presence of ocean water could be evidence for the ghost.”

“Naturally your explanation is that it’s a murderous ghost,” she sighs.

“I definitely am not ruling it out.”

She looks at him with an unreadable expression. “Did you learn anything new, Mulder?”

“Oh,” he says, trying to marshal his papers into a stack, “yeah, I did, actually.”

“Do the details of Duncan’s ghost story check out?”

“Yes and no,” Mulder says. “The woman working at the historical archives is actually a descendant of the Younge family. So she knew her way around the family papers, and she was happy to help me out.”

Scully’s lips curl upwards. “I’m sure you smiled, complimented her and laid it on thick.”

“She was in her seventies, Scully,” Mulder says in mock indignation, “but yes, as a matter of fact, I was pleasant. I did what it takes for our work.”

“I hope you warned her that your heart is committed to another,” Scully says lightly. “At least, according to the family ghost.”

Mulder freezes in mortification for a beat.

Immediately he realizes he needs to recover for his own dignity. “Uh, no,” he says. “I left that detail out.” He pauses. “That’s all just … ridiculous, Scully.”

“Hmm,” she says, nodding, not meeting his eyes. She has lifted her spoon to take another bite of her soup. “Well? What did you learn?”

“There was a Sophronia Younge, and she did live in this house. Her father was a wealthy scholar and a founder of the town.”

“All consistent with what Duncan told us.”

“Right,” Mulder says, “but the story veers off from there. In her father’s papers there are journals and letters. He was worried about Sophronia’s mental health, as we would put it nowadays. Or… about her ‘going mad,’ as they’d say back then. He talks about her referring to herself as Hero, the character from the myth. He talks about her refusing to come out of her room, of lighting a beacon for some imagined Leander every night.”

Scully’s soup spoon stops, her eyes narrowing. “So … there was no actual Leander?”

“Possibly not,” Mulder says. “Not a person anyone could name. Just … a fantasy she had.” He feels his ears warming again, even though this early 19th century drama has absolutely nothing to do with him.

“So what happened?”

“Someone turned off Sophronia’s beacon lantern one night,” Mulder says, “and she assumed her fantasy Leander drowned, and, well, she reacted like Hero did in the myth.”

Scully’s head swivels to look out again at the Vermont landscape below. “I don’t get it. She drowned herself in maple trees?”

“Actually, she threw herself into a well and drowned,” Mulder says. “In 1809. It’s documented by several sources. Cause of death was probably sudden cardiac arrest, right?”

Scully nods slowly, still staring out the window. “Probably.” She turns back to him, her cool blue eyes melancholy. “Actually, it’s a much sadder story than the one Duncan tells.”

“Yeah,” Mulder says softly. A more lonely story, certainly.

Scully’s gaze circles the room. “Why do you think Duncan hasn’t gone to the archives himself? You’d think he would want to find out all he could about the history behind this place.”

“Well… he may have tried,” Mulder says. “Mrs. Davenport—she isn’t a fan of the inn being owned by outsiders. She may have mentioned that to me a few times.”

“Oh,” Scully says. “Yes, Duncan referred to some resentment.” Her chin tilts contemplatively. “Isn’t that a possible motive? Multiple deaths are certainly bad for the inn’s business.”

“You think … Mrs. Davenport…?”

“Maybe not her per se,” Scully says. “But maybe someone like her. With ties to the old family.”

“Maybe,” Mulder concedes. He licks his lips anxiously. “In any case, I think Mrs. Davenport’s history further supports Duncan’s theory.”

“Duncan’s theory?”

Mulder looks down at his soup, attempting to come across as casual and disinterested. “That Hero only appears to people who aren’t in reciprocated love,” he says. “You know. The longing thing. It fits with her own history, her own psychology.”

Scully is silent a moment. “You’re profiling a ghost now?”

“This… Austin kid,” Mulder says, speaking quickly. “The first victim. He’s taking a new girlfriend on a weekend away. Maybe she’s not as into him as he is into her. The Knight guy, Jim, is having trouble with his wife and is on a fishing trip to give her space. Maybe he still loves her and she’s moved on. And maybe Elena Denney is having some kind of online relationship with someone who doesn’t feel as strongly as her.”

“Do you actually know any of that, or are you making incredible assumptions and leaps?”

“We can investigate it,” Mulder says impatiently. “I’m extending a theory right now.” He puts his spoon down, folds his hands behind his head, leaning back to gaze at the plaster ceiling. He hopes he looks loose and relaxed.

“Does your profile include a reason why she would abruptly start to kill the lovelorn after nearly two hundred years of simply appearing to them?”

“No,” admits Mulder. “I’m still thinking about that.”

“Did Mrs. Davenport say anything else?”

Mulder shrugs. “Yeah. She said that when they lived here, they thought lighting all those brass lanterns in the house was good luck. Because of the beacon light thing and all that.”

Scully smiles a tight-lipped smile. “Ah,” she says. “I suppose we could use a good luck tip.”

“We do if…” He stops. “Never mind.” He pushes the papers towards her. “I brought copies of all of the historical records. If you want to look them over yourself.”

“All right,” she says, restacking them.“Mulder …” She hesitates, shuffling the papers without purpose. “You think the ghost is coming after you next, don’t you?”

His apparently-endangered heart begins to thump so hard he can feel it down to his toes. Every second longer he takes to answer this question, he knows he makes it worse. Isn’t the real question all too obvious? Are you longing for someone you can’t have, Mulder?

“I don’t know,” he says miserably, looking at his hands. “Maybe.”

“Oh,” she says, her lips remaining in a small circle. Her eyes are wide, and she looks uncertain, but he doesn’t see how she possibly could be. How could she not at least wonder? Is she having some kind of inner crisis? Is she horrified by the lack of professionalism implied? “Should we find another place to stay?” she suggests in a kind, patronizing tone he hates. “There’s no sense in making you worry.”

“No,” he interrupts, humiliated. “No, no, that’s silly. I’m not… I mean, I can’t think of how it would actually fit. For me. I’m not really a lovelorn kind of guy.” He smiles, hoping he has been convincing enough.

She smiles back wanly. “All right.”

“This afternoon, I thought I might drive over and talk to Mr. Knight’s widow,” Mulder says, keeping his tone easy. “She lives about twenty minutes away. That will keep me out of Hero’s hands for a while, right?”

“Right,” she says. She considers him. “I’ll take some of those samples of the renovation materials and send them to be analyzed. Maybe I’ll read through the history you found.”

“Sounds good,” he says, nodding. She begins to stand up from the table. “And, uh, Scully?” She turns around and meets his gaze with round, expectant eyes. “I’ll check in this time.”

She nods shortly, then hurries off, her face shuttered.

She must have some idea. She must.

He stares at his bowl of soup, half eaten. He should get up and drive, not sit here and sift through his garbage bin of feelings.

Actually, Mulder has never picked out words for how he feels about her. Those feelings just are what they are. A truth. A nameless reality. If pressed, he’d have gone to great lengths to avoid assigning language to them. It’d be stupid anyway. It doesn’t matter what she is to him exactly.

She’s just my work colleague, the kind you know their lunch order by heart, the kind you cover for if they’re running late, the kind you'd protect by consuming exotic poison or sticking a dagger in your chest or throwing yourself in front of a bus. She’s my friend, the type of friend whose opinions intertwine and fuse permanently with the foundational architecture of my brain. She's a woman I work with, that kind of woman you fill out paperwork with during the day and then dream about that night, who in dreams raises her hands to catch snowflakes in her fingers in the moonlight, and somehow when she does that makes you cry and makes you hard at the same time.

You know. She’s someone like that.

He doesn’t want some case, some fucked-up insane ghost, to force language on what shouldn’t ever have had language. He doesn’t want to have to say it, to think it, to bring it to light.

Of course, this could all be very moot if the ghost straight-up drowns him tonight and stops his miserable heart altogether.

He basks for a moment in the warmth of the afternoon sun on his face through the window, and he sighs deeply. The currently healthy function of his lungs is not lost on him. He breathes perfectly in and out. Ostensibly freely.

His whole life he’s spent alone, longing for what he doesn’t have. He guesses it makes a kind of dark sense that’s how he would die. Drowning in oceans of want.

***

For the next two hours Scully does exactly the kind of efficient work that usually gives her great satisfaction. She takes samples of the renovation materials, she walks to town to FedEx them to the lab in Washington, and she trods back up the icy hill knowing that the task is done. Now she clomps up the staircase to the second floor of the inn, her nose still stinging from the cold, her cheeks slightly windburned.

There’s no sense of accomplishment, only a heavy pall over her mood she can’t shake.

At the top of the stairs, she stops to catch her breath, brushing some snow off of her trench. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees someone walking down the hall. When she turns her head, there’s nothing: just one of the inn’s impressive Christmas trees twinkling.

She blinks. She’d been half hoping it was Mulder returned already, but of course it isn’t. The car is still gone; he is questioning Jim Knight’s wife. She’s being illogical.

Scully stares at the Christmas tree for a moment, swaying slightly. Her thoughts return again to Mulder’s behavior in the kitchen. He was so obviously anxious that he was the ghost’s next target.

Of course Scully continues to believe that there’s something happening here other than a homicidal ghost. True to character, Mulder latched on to that ghost story too quickly. But Mulder believes that Hero is a ghost who targets the longing and lovelorn. And though he was trying to be evasive, he was also uncharacteristically self-conscious and nervous.

He thinks it’s plausible he could be a victim.

As though in a dream, Scully steps slowly towards her door.

So somewhere out there there is a person Mulder longs for, a regular human relationship he aches to have. He has that in mind when he discusses it.

She knows it shouldn’t bother her. And it doesn’t bother her, not really. It just hurts right now, when she is missing Melissa, that’s all.

Because she stands outside of everything now, pressing her nose up against the snow globe looking inside at all the normal people living normal lives. She thought he, at least, might be standing with her: her partner who’d long ago given up on any of that. Even if they couldn’t have normal lives, they could have the companionship of one another.

But it’s all too clear he keeps his heart from her, hides his inner desires. He lies to her about it.

Of course he does; he doesn’t even always tell her where he’s going on a case. There’s too much she doesn’t know, really, about him. Their close companionship is an illusion she’s taken too seriously.

She feels tears overwhelming her eyes as she unlocks the door.

Fine. It does bother me. It does.

She’s pushing at her door to go inside when she’s distracted again by a movement from her side vision.

A figure drifting from the direction of the far end of the hall.

***

[uglyf4wn]

realizing that communication actually doesnt matter as much as ppl say it does, bc most ppl glorify it and see it as a magical solution when in fact communicating your feelings/wants/needs only work if other ppl are receptible to it. which... most ppl arent, both bc many dont want to bc it requires too much effort of them and it's easier to shift blame on others not "communicating", but also bc many many ppl just have brains that arent wired to understand others, or other viewpoints and perspectives. thus, no level of communication will make someone who isnt capable of receiving it hear you. most efforts to "communicate" are completely wasted. and it's frustrating, but what can u do?

[cranberrymoons]

.

[opens-up-4-nobody]

...

[varpusvaras]

Coruscant gets its own Guard.

As her duty as the Queen keeps her on Alderaan, Breha wishes to see more of what happens on Coruscant, and how the troopers stationed on the planet are doing, as the war rages on all across the Galaxy. Bail sends her pictures of the Guard, and one Commander catches her eye.

Then she hands Commander Fox her comlink frequency.

Then he picks up her call.

Part 2 of Up that Mountain, from Breha’s point of view.

[cxpperhead]

Nagaina is one of the snakes that's been in Copperhead's care the longest, about six years since he came to Gotham. He originally found her in a travelling circus way down south close to Arizona, featuring as part of a snake charmer's show. However her mouth had been sewn shut by her keeper, preventing her from being able to bite or spit while performing so Copperhead carefully cut the threads loose, laying in wait for her keeper to return.

Thinking he'd left her enclosure unlocked, her keeper mistakenly thought her to be harmless and went to pick her up, only to get bitten again and again for all the years of torment he'd put her through. His death was thought to have been a careless mistake rather than foul play as nothing was missing except the snake, leading authorities to believe it had simply managed to escape after a handling session had gone wrong. Years later and Nagaina is still with Copperhead, having no wish to leave nor return to the wild.

[sysig]

It always seems like such a good idea in the moment (Patreon)

The first four are in reference to a great idea I had of - since I’ve finished my lower-limit page number testing for making books; shorter fics take up less page space, and just increasing the font size isn’t as handsome! - simply making a mini book! All it would take would be to halve the pages again, right? Just cut them right down the middle! Easy peasy!

As I’m sure you can tell by the second, no. Not easy peasy. Difficult painful un-fun >:(

Obviously I still did it tho! What do you take me for, someone who could have the idea of an even tinier book and then not do something about it?? No It’s also the only one so far to have a paper bookmark rather than a ribbon!

All told it’s a bit smaller than your average manga (I love the monochrome covers on these under their dust jackets haha <3) - you can see even with effectively doubling up the pages by halving their size, it was still very small-spined!

A quick shot while it was still being made hehe ♪ It’s Out! Paired here - and the earlier one, just without its dust jacket haha - with my Zarla SC2 collection (ft. Family, Negotiations are Going...Well, and With No Obligation) - I absolutely kicked myself after the fact for not including Out as the run-up to everything, I was really trying to make a full collection in probably-chronological order! Out would’ve been a perfect start! And it only would’ve taken like four pages!!

Ah well, it was still quite a learning experience - I probably wouldn’t make another standalone of under 4k-ish just for formatting reasons but I did get some good ideas of how to do so if I wanted to! Although, my next project is going to be even more of a formatting nightmare........I’ll get there when I get there! Lol

[mashmouths]

anyone want to pull an edna pontellier with me

[dragonji]

being a student is always going so well until it Isn't .

[lovecrazedpup]

just had one of the worst cries of my life i think

[indigodawns]

.

[lilgynt]

maybe i’m just finding any issue with situationship guy before we have sex bc i’m feeling weird about sex but also maybe he wasn’t wrong when he said he was clingy and i do not care for it