#actually wait they change clothes halfway through so she definitely had the opportunity to change shoes before going to china | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

eunoiaflow3r · 3 years

Text

hard 2 face reality // spencer reid x fem!reader

spencer reid x reader

aaron hotchner x reader

part one - part three

a/n: a lot of people asked for part 2 to “not ur friend.” omg i didn’t expect it to blow up like it did. sorry this isnt the fluff conclusion you guys wanted...but i’m willing to make this a series maybe? idk it’s up to you guys. thank you for your feedback and support. (see notes at end)

also i tagged all the people who commented on part one.

warning(s): language. angst. not proofread. will be mistakes.

word count: 2.9k wow.

request(ed): yes. very requested. thank you @yeah-just-ignore-me-thanks for this idea.

summary: after hearing something she shouldn’t have, she has to deal with explanations and tough decisions.

hard 2 face reality by poo bear ft. justin beiber and jay electronics.

—————————————&————————————

sometimes it’s hard to face reality...even though you might get mad at me.

It’s ironic sometimes.

The twists and turns of life and the paths it puts you down. Sometimes you believed in fate but right now it only felt like a pain in the ass. Whoever was controlling your strings you hoped they would just give you a break, but no. There was always something more.

Last night, you had a dream. There was a memory within the dream. You and Spencer were cuddling on the couch watching a movie and his fingers were combing through your hair. From where you were, it was more like you were witnessing it instead of actually living it. You were just watching yourself fall harder for the man behind you. You were content. Happy even. You forgot all about your issues and problems and conflicts. You forgot about what Spencer said and the things he had done. You just forgot.

You watched as he took his fingers out of your hair and pushed you away. The you that you were watching was confused and so were you. Why would he do that? What was wrong with him? This wasn’t the memory.

Dream Spencer got up, put his shoes on, grabbed his bag, and was halfway out the door. Before he left completely he said, “We’re just friends. You’re not enough for me. You never will be.”

Dream you just sat there and stared blankly.

Your eyes opened and you stared up at your ceiling in sorrow. The tears just kept coming and you tried to keep yourself quiet but it was so hard, and you were so tired. You hated to admit it but you were in love with him. You were in love with a man who didn’t feel the same way. A man who did nothing but play you and pretend you were nothing. A man who lied.

How did this happen?

How did you end up in a position where you were in a cold bed crying about a man who was unphased? Someone who didn’t find anything wrong with their actions? How could you love someone who would never find the way to love you back and treat you right no matter how hard you wished? No matter how hard you hoped?

How could you do this to yourself?

And to think - in a few hours you’d have to wake up and see him again. After everything you realized and have come to terms with you’d have to see the man who was responsible for the ache in your heart.

————————————&———————————

When Spencer woke up the first thing he thought about was work. How he didn’t really want to go but he knows he has to. He thought about how heart wrenching the case he’s been on for the last week has been. He thought about how today he might actually be able to solve it...and then he thought about you.

He’d be seeing you.

Hotch invited you to help with the case. He figured your skill set would be exactly what they needed to solve it.

And yeah, you there definitely was for the better of the case but was it for the better of him?

He had no idea what to do. You were mad at him. You weren’t answering his phone calls or his texts and he figured out that you heard the conversation and he gets that maybe calling you a grandmother was wrong, but really what did he do?

He knew he missed you. He missed being able to rant to you, and you consoling him. He missed the movie days you guys had...but he could watch them on his own...right? He could figure out his own problems...he didn’t need anyone to help him. Especially not you. Not someone getting upset about the smallest of things.

That was so rude of you. Why would you ignore him? Why wouldn’t you reply to his texts are calls?

He thought that that was pretty selfish of you.

And yeah sure, maybe calling you clingy was a lie but was that really something to ignore him over? To throw it all away for?

Should've been adjusted to my life, had the opportunity to stay away for the last time...now you’re standin’ right in front of me. It hurts me to know that I lied. Tryna protect your feelings... you read in between the lines Hope your heart has started healing

You arrived.

He saw you, bag over your shoulder, going straight towards Hotch’s office and ignoring him.

Not even a hello? Not a good morning? You hadn’t even looked at Emily or Morgan either. What had they done? What had he done?

From what he could tell you had been crying, but you covered it well. If it was anyone but him they wouldn’t have been able to tell but he could. Did you miss him too? Were you hurting?

———————————-&————————————

“Is something going on between you and Reid?”

Hotch was looking at you expecting an answer but you didn’t know what to tell him. According to Reid nothing had ever been going on.

“No. I’m really just trying to focus here.”

Hotch nodded. “Good.”

Truth is, it was very hard to ignore Spencer. He seemed so oblivious that it made you feel sorry for him. But you couldn’t. You wouldn’t feel sorry for him. He wasn’t the one crying his eyes out at night and cussing out rom coms when they came on the television.

And you could tell he didn’t feel the same. He didn’t look how you felt. He looked conflicted, but he didn’t look sorry or hurt. His normalcy pained you. Had you really meant that little? Maybe you were over exaggerating things. No. You deserved an explanation - but you weren’t ready to hear it.

A while ago...

“Okay Y/N cover your eyes!”

You giggled. “No, Spencer why?”

“Just do it! I promise you’ll like it.”

You were sat criss crossed on the couch and Spencer was behind you with something in his hands. Before you could look at it he told you to close your eyes and he hid it behind his back. You smiled and closed your eyes waiting for whatever the surprise was.

You felt his fingers move your hair out of the way and you felt a coolness along your neck.

A necklace.

“Okay open.”

You could feel him grinning. You opened your eyes and looked down at your chest. You nearly gasped. On the end of the necklace was a miniature glass sculpture. When you met at the museum you told him that they were your favorite.

He remembered.

You held it in your hand and turned around to kiss him. He was a bit surprised but held your face in his hands and kissed you back.

“L/N!” You were snapped out of your head. “Are you alright?”

“Yes, I’m fine. Sorry.”

The necklace. You can’t believe you were still wearing it. It felt like the only thing holding you together which was strange since glass was so fragile. The metal necklace part felt like it was burning you. The happy memory burned you. You took the necklace from under your sweater and ripped it off your neck. You couldn’t wear it anymore. It hurt you, but you couldn’t hold on.

Reality is kinda hard to face, like actual facts is for flat-earthers. Rains a requirement for flowers to grow, and pains a requirement for power to grow. It’s a miracle how one can change, from one what was just hours ago.

When you got home that day you were happy and running on adrenaline. Yeah, you had to see Spencer...but you helped solve a case. You helped save someone. It was tiring, and gruesome just like what Spencer said but the feeling you get after helping someone? Unexplainable.

After changing out of your work clothes and into some jeans and a shirt, you’d thought you’d treat yourself to dinner. Maybe that would help you forget. Forget and move on. Besides, it was a nice little diner and you used to be a regular. You had wanted to bring Spencer but he never wanted to go. He never wanted to go out.

His loss.

When you got there the familiar scent of vanilla and cinnamon wafted through. You had missed this. When everything was so simple and uncomplicated. When you could be you. Not wondering if today was the day Spencer would decide to come over or not. Or to even call. You could finally breathe. You weren’t in your stuffy apartment. You weren’t in a Spence filled work place. You were where you considered home in a city away from it.

“Y/N, hey!” Em the waitress called you over. You would consider her a friend. You two had always talked when you came through.

“Hey!” She went in for a hug and you hugged her back.

“Where have you been?”

You sighed. “Busy.”

She nodded. She understood. From there she asked you where you wanted to sit. You were just going to request the counter since you were alone, but when a little boy came up to you yelling your name, and wrapped his arms around you...you didn’t have the time to answer. It was little Jack.

“Hey buddy!” You hugged him back.

You looked around for Hotch. What a coincidence. He smiled and waved you over. You and Jack walked over to the booth and Hotch stood and hugged you. “I’m so sorry about Jack.”

“Oh no, it’s fine!”

About two years ago Hotch hired you to babysit Jack every once in a while. You needed the money. You were making enough from the paintings you sold but you needed more to finish college and save up. You weren’t going to some big expensive college or anything but still.

A little while later you met Spencer and it just became and inside joke.

“Would you like to eat with us?” Hotch asked.

“I don’t want to intrude Hotch...”

“Aaron.” He corrected while smiling. “Please, join us.”

And you did. You ate dinner with Aaron and Jack and you were having fun. This past month you had been moping around feeling sorry for yourself but you were actually happy. There was still that pain in your chest, and a part of you that longed to call Spencer and talk to him - but you wouldn’t. You couldn’t.

After dinner Em invited you to go clubbing with her on Saturday. At first you were going to turn her down but you thought...why not? You didn’t have to stay up waiting for Spencer to call anymore. You didn’t have to cook or plan to order in in case Spencer decided to stop by. You didn’t have any plans.

“Sure Em, I’ll be there.”

“Great.”

She walked behind the counter and looked from you to Hotch. Like a suggestive look. Like a “ask him too!” look. And you weren’t ready for anything, and wasn’t even sure if you liked Aaron that way, and you still were in a gray area with Spencer...but you thought it’d be rude not to ask.

“Aaron...”

He nodded, urging you to go on.

“Do you want to go with me Saturday? I mean...I don’t really want to be alone..Em has a girlfriend and it might be fun.”

He laughs and scratches the back of his neck. “Yes Y/N I’ll go.”

When you got home and ready for bed you had this weight in your stomach. There was a lump in your throat, and your fingers tensed. You thought about Hotch and it made you feel like you were cheating on Spencer. But you weren’t. You and Spencer weren’t together. There was no need to feel guilty.

He didn’t.

———————————-&————————————

That Saturday came soon enough and you weren’t sure if you were ready. Physically yeah, you showered and got ready...but emotionally? Mentally? Was this a date? Had you asked Aaron out? Were you ready for that? Had you moved on from Spencer? No, of course not. But Aaron wasn’t a distraction either. You could never do that to him no matter how bad you felt. Never.

Your doorbell rang and when you opened it you were surprised to see Hotch...not in a suit. It fit him and you could admit it...he looked...really good.

“You clean up nice.” You said laughing a bit to yourself.

He looked you up and down. “So do you.”

He looked a bit taken aback and you could see he was a bit flushed and that made you a bit happy. You liked giving people that kind of reaction. It gave you just a bit of confidence you needed. Especially tonight, where you’d try not to think about Spencer.

When you got there you were glad it wasn’t too busy. The music wasn’t that loud either and you were glad because then you got to dance without immediately getting a headache. Your first dance was with Hotch but then he saw one of his friends from college (he’s a lawyer now) and then started talking to him. You didn’t mind. You actually kind of liked being alone. It gave you you time to think. But not about Spencer.

No. Not tonight you wouldn’t.

You wasted too many tears on him to be thinking of him while you were supposed to be having fun. He didn’t deserve your thoughts. He didn’t deserve your tears. He didn’t deserve movie nights, or cuddles, or sex, or kisses, or waiting, he didn’t deserve -

Spencer.

Spencer Reid.

You thought you were dreaming, but you weren’t. He was just a little bit away from you with JJ on his arm. “Just coworkers.” You wanted to say it didn’t hurt you, you did, but your heart broke. In a million little pieces. Had he not want to get serious with you because he was in love with her. It makes sense, everything about that makes sense but it didn’t hurt any less. It didn’t make the tears in your eyes stop, it didn’t make the ache in your chest dim but at least it made sense.

Know it hurts to see the truth in your face, circumstances bring you down to your knees. Go on and cry an ocean, but don’t drown in it. Enough to put your heart at ease. Oh don’t lose your self esteem. I apologize for being a man. It’s way harder than what it seems.

You grabbed your bag from Hotch and told him you needed to go outside for a minute. He asked you if you wanted him to go with you but you needed to be alone. You wanted to be by yourself to fight these tears. You couldn’t cry in front of him.

He gave you his coat which was much too big but still appreciated.

Once you were outside you took your phone out to check your face. Your nose was red but the few tears hadn’t ruined anything. You were fine. You were going to be okay. Everything was alright.

Until it wasn’t .

“Y/N?”

Fucking Spencer.

You turned around to see Spencer Reid walking towards you with a confused look on his face.

“Hey.” he said. Hey? Hey?? What the hell were you supposed to say to that? Hey?

He cleared his throat. “Things are weird, right?”

“Weird?” you scoffed.

“Y/N, it’s been a month! I don’t understand what I did! You just stopped talking to me even after I tried to apologize! What more can I do?”

He stopped for a second, “Is that Hotch’s jacket?” He stepped forward to take a look at it but you flinched away. “Don’t tell me that’s Hotch’s -“

“You were hiding me Spencer. You said the equivalent to hanging out with me was of visiting a grandmother. You never wanted to hang out unless it was on your terms and you called me clingy and suffocating when I NEVER asked you for more. I NEVER went out of my way to ask you for anything and you treat me like this? Like I’m replaceable? After everything we’ve been through? After all we’ve talked about and experienced? What’s your excuse for that Spencer? What could you possibly have to say that would explain that?”

He opened his mouth and closed it again.

“If I were to have called you and said ‘Yup, everything is fine Spence we can go back to normal.’ It would have gone back to normal! YOUR normal! A normal where I’m hidden like a side chick but you get to be in public with JJ on your arm! Fucking JJ! And yeah, we never put a label on it but YOU made it clear that we weren’t to fuck other people. That was YOUR decision! She was the girl you said I didn’t have to worry about and here we are.”

Spencer was silent. He looked to the floor, and said nothing. His fingers ran through his disheveled hair and his lip was quivering.

“So this is because of JJ?” he asked.

“Fuck you.”

————————————&———————————

He watched as you walked into the club and back out again with Hotch. Before you went in his car though you walked over to Spencer and put the necklace into his hand. Silently you walked over to Hotch and got in the passenger seat.

Spencer didn’t know what to do.

This was your necklace. He gave it to you. It was yours to keep. Yours to wear, cherish, and hold. Why would you give it back? It was supposed to make you happy and help you remember him. Instead it was in his hands unworn but the girl he had hurt. What was he supposed to do?

JJ found him outside but he said nothing to her the whole ride when he took her home. He was thinking about you. He was thinking about what you said. You were right.

When he got home he looked at the box of things you gave him. There were polaroid pictures of the two of you and he started shaking as he cried. What had he done? How could he have been so selfish?

You were right.

Truth was he did like JJ, and he had been hiding you. He had been treating you unfairly. He had been a jerk and he had done every single thing you said he did.

He was all of the names you were calling him in your head.

Every single one.

He held the glass sculpture necklace in his hands and could feel his tears running down his face falling on it.

Even though he fucked up, and had something weird with JJ, he realized...he was in love with you.

Sometimes it's hard to face reality.

—————————————-&————————————-

literally wtf is this. what in the love triangles - anyway. ik you guys wanted fluff so...part 3? idk. should reader have a thing with hotch? should she choose hotch or reid?

feedback always appreciated. it pushed me to write this.

taglist: @hotchsbabygirl @pinkdiamond1016 @thefemalestorywriter @sizzlingclamturtlesludge @samyilf123

comment tag list: @peculiarinsomniac @mgg-theprettiestboy @187-reid @realalpacorn @wooya1224 @minami97 @studywithrosie01 @yeah-just-ignore-me-thanks @meowiemari @thedaughterofhotchniss @reniescarlett @lovelyspencerreid @ashwarren32 @fantastic-fans @unabashedlyswimmingtimemachine @psych0crybaby @drreidsconverse @castbyfox

559 notes · View notes

roanniom · 3 years

Note

Hey Issa, my sweet honey bun! I don’t send many requests to people, so bear with me. I’ll forever wait for the day you write Kylo, but until then I’ll throw this one at you for Charlie. I had a wander through the prompt list, and I kinda liked “I’ll feel better if you let me walk you home.” with Charlie being all protective of reader, unsure if she reciprocates his feelings. And because I’m a garbage can of filth, I also loved “I’m not made of glass. You won’t break me.” if you wanted to move into smut. I hope this gets the creative juices flowing? Take your time, no pressure ever! 💕💕💕

@paper-n-ashes as you know I have been holding onto this and chipping away at it steadily for FOREVER so I can get it just right for you, so I hope you enjoy it, my love <3

Push

Charlie Barber x Reader

Word Count: 6,862

Warnings: NSFW, fingering, PIV sex / unprotected sex, light light light choking (not even really), mention of infidelity (just canon from Marriage Story plot), a lil post-divorce angst/lack of confidence

The above photo is Charlie Barber, 1-year post divorce. He’s been working out as a form of anger management and because Henry, over many late night phone conversations, has shared his new love of hiking, a pastime he’s picked up since living in LA. Charlie plans to take Henry hiking on the Appalachian trail next summer break and wants to be on tip top shape to keep up with his enthusiastic son.

He’s been to therapy. Learning more about what went wrong in his marriage, but more specifically learning about how he can become a better person in the aftermath. How infidelity and self-interest were born of a deep-seated need for a love that he was not receiving. A love that was no closer to him prior to his indiscretions but all the same rendered unreachable as a result. He’s given himself time to grieve the man he’d thought himself to be. Because that is what had died with his marriage - not Charlie Barber himself. But the Charlie Barber he’d built in his mind. A man limited by support that came with conditions, love that came with caveats. That Charlie was a father and a husband. He was often suppressed, wound tight, on edge.

This Charlie is a father and a man. He is free to celebrate his own success without fear of wounding nearby egos. He’s limited only by what he feels he deserves. And granted sometimes those self-imposed limitations can really hold him down, as they did when he vowed not to jump into any further entanglements - affairs or otherwise - in the time immediately following his divorce. But that limitation was ultimately beneficial. It gave him space to be alone - with himself, for himself. He was able to finally see his own flaws with his own eyes instead of having them recited back to him by another, as if through a crude, second hand reflection. And in seeing these flaws, he also saw the virtues. Charlie was actually starting to like himself again.

And this is when he meets you.

You storm into his life with an energy he doesn’t recognize, introduced at a party by a friend of a friend, filling his senses with your too-loud-laughter and too-bright-eyes. In many ways that’s how he sees you: too much. Your enthusiasm makes you appear too young, though in truth you’re not that much younger than him. Your smile makes you appear too beautiful, though in truth there are often much more conventionally attractive women in the room at any given time.

“Charlie. Charlie Barber,” Charlie mutters as he shakes your hand. Its warm in his larger one and he’s suddenly a little self-conscious of the fact that he’d been holding his sweating scotch on the rocks just moments before the contact.

“Hello Charlie-Charlie Barber,” you reply with a massive grin, shaking his hand back vigorously and with seemingly no reaction to its clamminess. “The famous director, I assume?”

Charlie clocks the quirk of your eyebrow. A tease. A social cue he’s not used to. Not these days. He looks down at his worn tennis shoes, all too aware all at once of the way they dress down his sweater and jeans. He feels rumpled next to you and he’s not sure he likes it. You’re too put together.

You’re too honest, too fearless, too open to new things. Though Charlie’s beginning to grow, your presence reminds him of how stunted he’d been in his marriage. How the same old restaurants, the same old clothes, the same old glass of the same old scotch had become items of comfort for him, talismans of a previous life that he clung to for some semblance of familiarity. Around you, however, those same old things looks dull and uninspired. Quite the opposite of you.

You are the one to ask him out, though he’s not even really aware that it’s a date at all when he arrives. That’s how much he doesn’t see you coming. His affair had been one of convenience. An opportunity to blow off excess steam, and a pretty disappointing one at that, with neither party really find what they were chasing. His marriage had grown cold long before it had ended. All of this to say that Charlie wasn’t very familiar with warmth. With interest that occurred in the light of day, and attention that was given without anything sought in return.

You’re halfway through lunch before you realize that he doesn’t understand your intentions. So you explain them to him. Clear and empty of any pretense. You are attracted to him and interested in getting to know him further. It’s simple, really. He’s shocked by your openness and the absence of any games. In another life he’d once assumed that a relationship without strife, without agony, without strategic tug of war would be one without passion. However, as he soon learns while taking you out on the second date, that he couldn’t have been farther from the truth.

Over dinner this time he finds himself getting lost in your micro-expressions. Finds his eyes lingering on the animated way you gesture, finds his words getting twisted in his tongue as your gaze weighs on him, expectant and waiting for a response to some question. His bodily responses to your attention are no less potent in the absence of angst. In fact, he is surprised to find that his yearning practically triples when you part ways and he realizes not once had he been made to feel like he had to prove something, or fight, or challenge.

He learns over time that you challenge him in other ways. Challenge him when it comes to picking restaurants outside his comfort zone. Challenge him by dragging him, mid-lunch date, on a shopping trip with you, a trip where you gently help him to finally replace the worn out tennis shoes to which he’d been clinging. Challenge him by laughing with him, not at him, even when the subject of the humor is himself. Your laughter is lighter, more carefree, than he is used to. Then again, he’s not used to being around someone like you.

He kisses you after the third date – the lunch-turned-shopping trip. It’s quick and it’s light, on the curb before an intersection on the East Side, right before you both are about to walk in separate directions. You say nothing when he pulls away. Just smile and turn on your heel, already headed to your next destination. It drives Charlie crazy over the next few days. Not because he assumes you have some hidden agenda. On the contrary, he’s horrified that your interior thoughts match your exterior actions. You have been nothing but honest with him. It is Charlie who has been oscillating wildly in his mind. Between thoughts of how much it might hurt if you turn out to be too good to be true and thoughts of how much he’d love to feel your body on his. To explore the mouth you use so effortlessly to tease him, to compliment him, to charm him. You speak kindness like pleasantries, as if affirmations and praise were as easy to dole out as a cheery “good morning” on a stress-free Saturday. Charlie wants to know what you’re like on a Saturday. Away from the bustle of the city. Away from the common friends and the crowded shops and restaurants that have buffered all of your encounters.

But Charlie’s still afraid.

On your fourth date Charlie is more reserved when you arrive at the restaurant. You break the ice by pointing out that the formality of your dates is beginning to feel silly.

“Maybe it’s the fact that the tables have tablecloths,” you joke, swirling your pasta around a fork. “Or maybe it’s the fact that I’ve never repeatedly had meals with someone I wasn’t already in a relationship with.”

Charlie prickles at the implication, taking a labored swallow of ice water. He doesn’t want to comment on the relationship part of your sentiment so he chooses something more neutral.

“Should I remind you that two of these meals have been at your suggestion and you did, in fact, also plan them as meals.” He relaxes a bit when you laugh heartily at that, relieved that the conversation doesn’t get any more dicey.

“Touché,” you reply. Then you lean forward and whisper conspiratorially at him across the small table. He feels himself lean in, curious but also looking for a chance to just get closer in proximity. He wishes he’d had the courage to sit next to you rather than across from you when he’d first sat down. “Feeling adventurous enough to let me pick where we go after this tonight?”

And Charlie feels adventurous. Adventurous as he lets you whisk him across town and to your favorite arcade bar. Adventurous as he passes you a large handful of quarters he got from the little machine at the front, only to grasp your fist in his when he miscalculates how much of his handful you’d be capable of taking, narrowly avoiding a massive spill of loose change on the floor. Adventurous as he orders a couple of beers and lets you show him your favorite game, Burger Time – a silly little maze game where you collect burger ingredients. Adventurous as he shows you his favorite game, which is pretty much any pinball machine known to man.

“Yours looks cooler than mine,” you huff, walking over to the pinball machine he’s playing once you abandon the one that was definitely broken. Or at least that’s how you justify so many consecutive, immediate losses. Charlie laughs and pulls back the plunger but doesn’t release, effectively pausing his game.

“You wanna try it?” Charlie ushers you in front of him and puts your hand on the plunger beneath his, careful not to release it in the process. “The key is anticipating where the ball will go. It’s all about patterns after a while.”

“Then why does it seem so random?” you ask, looking up at him over your shoulder.

“You just haven’t played enough yet. Over time you can predict what will happen if the ball hits a certain corner. Where it will go if it ricochets juuust right at the last second.”

“Sounds fake but I’ll let you prove it to me,” you say with a laugh, focusing your attention back on the machine.

“We’ll let go in one…two…three.” When you feel the pressure of his hand let up you let go as well, letting him guide both your hands immediately to the buttons on the side of the machine.

For as great as his theory of pinball predictability is, he probably underestimates your ability to suck. Because you do, hard. But you laugh the whole way through, and you never quit. Never turn to him in frustration asking to do something else or even to leave. Instead you keep feeding quarters into the machine and bringing your hands back under Charlie’s on the machine. And no matter how shitty you are, you always at least try to focus.

Charlie, meanwhile, is having a very hard time focusing on anything that isn’t your body. His hips bracket your ass in this helpful position he’s adopted, and he feels your pressure against his pelvis with every enthusiastic wriggle and little jump of frustration that you take in response to the game. When he makes the unfortunate mistake to look down over your shoulder at one point he’s met with a direct view of your cleavage, exposed as it is in your low-cut blouse. Charlie begins to sweat and it has nothing to do with how packed the arcade is or with the exertion of gaming. When he remembers that the arcade is also a bar, he excuses himself to get more beer, hoping that one will cool him off and cool him down.

You dazzle him with a smile thrown over your shoulder when he approaches with the two fresh bottles, and he’s not prepared for how the sight of your face almost knocks him back on his ass.

“Charlie! I did better this time!” He chuckles at your enthusiasm.

“Oh yeah?” he asks, handing you your beer which you sip gratefully.

“I lasted a few more minutes than last time,” you elaborate proudly. “So I’d say that means I now qualify as a pinball wizard.”

“Move over Elton John,” Charlie says with a smirk. You slap him in the shoulder and immediately engage him in a spirited discussion of whether the Elton John movie version of “Pinball Wizard” was better than The Who’s version from the original album. However, after a few minutes Charlie realizes he’s lost in thought. Lost in your voice. Lost in your expressions. Lost in you.

When it finally comes time to leave the arcade, the night drawing much later than it had on your previous nighttime date, Charlie’s scared he’ll be lost without you. The two of you walk together for a couple of blocks before you reach that similar intersection. The place where you part ways.

“I think we really turned around that formality thing, don’t you?” you ask him, turning to Charlie and leaning back against the column of a pedestrian sign. Charlie moves into your space, swallowing his hesitation.

“I don’t know, I began to feel a little unworthy when you ascended past the role of pinball wizard.”

“Oh did I get a promotion?” You ask, tipping your head back so you can look up at him as he steps closer.

“The word wizard conjures up images of wizened old man,” Charlie says dismissively, as if that clears up everything.

“So if you’re saying I don’t remind you of a wrinkled old Merlin – to which might I say, shocker – then what exactly is my new title.”

“One that fits you inside and out.” Charlie braces a hand against the column above your head, his other in his pocket. His head dips down so that it’s closer to your face despite your height difference. You feel warm despite the slight chill in the air.

“And that would be Pinball….?” you prompt.

“Goddess,” he completes the title before pressing his lips to yours. His hands remain on the column and in his pocket until you reach forward and grab a fistful of his sweater, pulling him to you. Then his hands are at your waist, pushing you back into the column. His tongue is in your mouth and your hands are in his hair and he can’t breathe. But he doesn’t want to. He wants to suffocate, wants to asphyxiate on you and the way he feels so tethered to this moment, this intersection, this place where you cannot part ways.

When you break apart to, in fact, breathe, your chest heaves and your smile is radiant.

“As far as kisses goodnight go, I’d say that was top tier,” you say on a laugh. Suddenly Charlie’s throat is constricting and he has to fight his facial muscles to keep from frowning as his hands tighten on your waist.

“That wasn’t a kiss goodnight. Not yet.”

“Any longer and it’ll be a kiss good morning, sir. Have you seen the time?” Your tone is joking. You call people ‘sir’ all the time. It’s a weird quirk of yours, like calling someone dude or pal. But Charlie can feel himself choking on the word, as well as the implications of a ‘kiss good morning.’ All of a sudden he feels like if he could have only one more thing before dying, that’s what he’d ask for. But then he kicks himself internally for being so fucking dramatic and he fiddles with the hem of your shirt.

“Exactly. It’s late.

You survey him from under your eyelashes with a small smile.

“I’ve made this walk many times.”

“It’s dark.”

“I’ve made this walk in the dark many times.”

“I’ll feel better if you let me walk you home.”

Charlie’s heart clenches. Before he can overthink, you’ve ducked out of his hold, grasped his hand and started pulling him down the street.

“C’mon Charlie, hurry up. You’d keep a goddess waiting?” you toss back at him over your shoulder. But in truth it was taking all of Charlie’s self control and the fact that he didn’t know the way to your place to keep him from throwing you over his shoulder and breaking into a full sprint.

~*~

Your place is exactly like you. Eclectic, warm, inviting. There is a moment, as you pull off your coat and turn away to place it and Charlie’s on a coat rack, when Charlie feels much too big for the space. Like he’s some kind of giant invading the home of a sweet little wood nymph. But then his little wood nymph is grabbing him by the front of the shirt and dragging him to a bedroom and the worries fade right out the window.

At first Charlie is gentle with you. His hands ghost over your body as you kiss him beside your bed. When you push him to sit down on the edge of the mattress and step between his open legs to kiss him with a different height dynamic his heart just about jumps clear out of his chest. He hasn’t done this – hasn’t touched or been touched – in so long. The affair had been transactional, just the mechanical motions of sexual gratification. Sex with Nicole, before it stopped, had been even colder, almost as if she had been begrudgingly completing some unwelcome chore.

You, however, are like fire beneath Charlie’s fingers. Your skin, your lips – everything is so warm it feels like you’re too hot to touch. But Charlie would rather risk burning up than to not become accustomed to the feel, the shape, the substance of you. He smooths over your body with a reverential softness, his muscles tense with restraint so as to keep from accidentally pushing you too far too fast. To keep from handling the way that, deep down, he desperately needs.

When your lips suddenly leave his, his brow furrows in frustrations. Before he can open his eyes a soothing finger smooths the furrow away, sliding down the bridge of his nose to press against his kiss-swollen lips. Charlie opens his eyes with a question present in them and you cock your head to the side.

“You’re tense. Like you’re holding back.” The statement isn’t accusatory but it isn’t a question. Charlie takes a shaky breath, unsure about how much he should say. Would his desperation read as too dramatic? Too undesirable? Would his enthusiasm come across as pushy or dominating? His brow must furrow again because your hand moves back up, finger pressing out the wrinkles. He shrugs.

“It’s been…a while for me. I didn’t want to come across as too…much.”

You laugh then and yet again Charlie is struck by how strange it is that you can laugh in his face directly in response to something he’s said without making him feel like you are laughing at him.

“I’m not made of glass. You won’t break me, Charlie.”

“You’re sure about that?” Charlie huffs out with a little chuckle. You give him a smirk and say your next words up against his lips.

“Try me.”

You probably were expecting him to require more cajoling. You probably were expecting him to gradually ease into something more. But Charlie takes you by surprise, grabbing you and pulling you onto the bed with him, rolling so that you’re laid out beneath his body, all the while maintaining hungry possession of your mouth. His body finds its place between your legs and you gasp at the feeling of how huge he is. How hard and insistent against your softness. He drinks from you like a man whose thirst can not be quenched. His hands find purchase on your waist and he squeezes. So hard you’re sure you’ll bruise. You smile against his mouth with the realization that you look forward to watching them bloom later.

Since Charlie seems too preoccupied with groping and making out with you, it is you who eventually takes the next step, beginning to pop open the buttons on your blouse one by one. When Charlie feels the motion of your hands between your bodies he ultimately pulls back to investigate, mouth dropping open at the slow reveal of the lingerie you’re wearing beneath. His hand shoots out to caress the delicate lace of your bra, teasingly not applying any pressure to the breast beneath.

“Do you wear things like this often?” Charlie’s voice is already rough as he asks this. You shrug.

“Whenever I want to feel sexy.”

“You wanted to feel sexy while out with me?” Charlie asks, lifting an eyebrow.

“You made me feel sexier than the lace, Mr. Barber,” you say with a smile before leaning up to capture his lower lip between your teeth. He groans and moves to practically swallow you whole. You’re entirely foreign to him. Enthusiasm, amusement, and enjoyment bundled up into one devastatingly sexy package. There’s no shame in your movements, no angst in your eyes. Just humor. Only an unabashed pursuit of pleasure. And if it’s pleasure you want, it’s pleasure you’ll get.

Charlie now aids you in the process of removing the rest of your garments, so it goes much quicker. When you move to pull off your bra, however, he catches your wrist in his massive hand.

“No…can these stay on?” Your eyebrows shoot up but you notice the way that Charlie is gazing at you with eyes slightly hazy and tongue running over his lips.

“This doing it for you, Charlie?” you tease, shimmying a bit. Charlie’s answer is sincere regardless as he dips his head down to sample the plush skin at the line of your cleavage.

“You have no idea.”

“So you’re a lingerie man, huh?” When you ask he stops to think for a second because, truly, he had never considered himself that way before. He’d never had any reason to. Sure lingerie models in magazines were hot, but it’s not a specific fantasy he’d ever explored previously.

But the sight of you here, strategically covered in lace and laid out beneath him pretty as a picture has him so hard he feels like a teenager unable to control himself. So, as you had urged him, he doesn’t.

“I might be. But really, I’m just enamored by these tits.” His teeth sink into your flesh and you sigh, especially when his tongue comes out to lave warmly at the spot. He moves down your body then, peppering kisses to the exposed skin of your stomach, sliding until your inner thighs rest against the sides of his face and his hands dip below you to squeeze your ass. “Although I feel like this might end up being my favorite part.” He says this last part directly into your clothed cunt, his lips just barely ghosting over the fabric with his words.

You wiggle a bit in his grasp, loving the answering way his fingers dig into your soft flesh. Your fingers card into his lush hair, tugging lightly at the roots, a feeling that shoots through his body and straight to his rock hard member. The way he discretely ruts against the mattress in response does not go unnoticed by you, so you drop a hand under his chin to tip his face back up to look at you.

“Will you fuck me, Charlie?” Your voice is clear and bright. Not playing coy and requiring any convincing. Just asking for something you want. And the hunger in your eyes seems unmistakable, though it still feels to good to be true. Charlie drops his gaze back down to the wet spot forming in your panties before looking back up and practically pouting.

“I’d like to taste you,” he counters. A brilliant smile breaks out across your face at the sound of that but you shake your head.

“There’ll be time for that later,” you argue, tugging on his shoulder to get him back on top of you. “If you don’t get inside me right now I’ll die.”

Charlie almost misses that last part because he’s still stuck on the first part. There’ll be time for that later. The possibility of later squeezes at Charlie’s hard and it’s only after a few echoing seconds that he’s able to process the rest of your statement with a delayed, choking laugh.

“Is someone getting dramatic on me?”

“Not yet, but I will if - ”

“If I don’t get inside you?” Charlie completes the statement in the exact moment a hand drops between your thighs and presses against the soaked fabric covering your slit. You inhale sharply.

“Exactly.”

“I didn’t take you for someone who was pushy in bed,” Charlie says good naturedly, swiping his fingers up the line of you to end with a swirl over where he assumed – correctly – your clit was. You tilt your pelvis to maximize his pressure before surging up to kiss him long and hard.

“I’m actually not. Not really,” you say breathlessly when you finally pull away and drop back down onto the pillows. You stretch luxuriously, almost like a kitten in the sun under his piercing gaze, the movement of your hips bumping his hand to rub you even better. Running your hands up and down the big, strong arms that cage you in and support him, you kiss his shoulder. “I’ve been hoping you would be.”

Suddenly your wrists are being pinned down above your head by one of Charlie’s hands. He’s got your legs open wide with his body sinking against you, hard and heavy.

“Pushy? You want me to be pushy?”

You grin big and wide at him.

“Yeah. Take charge like I know you want – oh!” You’re cut off by the welcome sensation of stimulation as Charlie’s hand drops inside your panties to slide around in your waiting slick. Without the barrier of the fabric between you, the feeling of your velvety slipperiness is enough to make him loose a growl.

He’s not hesitating and he’s not teasing anymore. Charlie has been waiting for this moment. He’s been waiting to care. Been waiting to feel. And what’s heightening the experience even more is the look on your face, the way your lips are parted and the way you gaze up at him longingly, expectantly. Providing all the evidence he needs to prove that you want this too. He wants you and you want him – what a novel idea. There are no angles or obligations, but also no shame or secrecy.

“Well if you wanted me to take charge you should have said so earlier,” he says, the corner of his lip quirking a bit as he dips two fingers inside your soaking cunt, not bothering to start with one. You gasp at the sudden intrusion. The stretch is a lot, but it is everything. Charlie sees the enjoyment register on your face, discomfort melting away almost immediately, and he begins to pull them slowly in and out to massage your walls.

“Maybe – ahh – maybe I should have,” you reply.

“Should I have caused a scene in the arcade?”

“Yes – fuck!” During an inward thrust Charlie curls his fingers up this time, rubbing against that spot in your upper wall that previous guys barely even knew was there. Before you know it he’s adding a third finger and you’re beside yourself. Charlie is elated to see how easily your body responds to his ministrations, how free you are with your reactions. He leans to down to suck a mark over your collar bone while his thumb meets your clit in tandem with his other thrusting fingers.

“You knew what you were doing when you kept rubbing that pretty little ass back into me while I taught you pinball.” His words rumbling against the skin of your throat.

“You made it so easy.”

“And you made it so hard,” Charlie counters, humor very present in his voice. You gasp out a laugh and try to tug your wrists from his grasp, but he doesn’t let you. Just keeps you pinned down as he continues to finger fuck you nice and slow.

“So impatient. I should have known. You’ve been impatient all night, haven’t you?” You whine out affirmations and screw your eyes shut as the pressure starts to build to a crescendo. Charlie picks up speed, his voice growing deeper as he continues. “Wanted me to fuck you on the pinball machine in front of everyone, didn’t you?”

You gasp and toss your head back against the pillows at that, hips bucking involuntarily. Charlie’s nose glides along the perimeter of your jaw, breathing in the scent of you as you fall apart. He’s never felt so powerful as he does with the feeling of your muscles tensing up under his fingertips. Never had the inspiration or audience for such language, but as you shiver and respond to his words, a surge of pride fills him and all he wants to do is dangle you over the edge over and over again.

“Charlie…” His name is a whimper when it falls from your lips. You’re so close. He feels it. So he pushes his fingers deep inside you, curling up with the motion, just as he sweeps one, two, three final circles into the throbbing bud of your clit.

You crest and you break against the tide of your orgasm, plummeting down from such heights you didn’t know you could reach from simple fingering. But there’s nothing simple about Charlie, the man who had been broken and put back together, only to find you, the universe’s overly generous reward for his perseverance.

Charlie’s slightly (unfocused) eyes focus on your heaving chest as you finally descend from the orgasm, but you’re the one to break the spell. Impatient is the perfect way to describe you as you wrap your legs around his middle and hook your ankles to trap him against you. You lunge up to arrest his mouth in a kiss. It’s sloppy, but just enough to distract him so that you can pull your wrists from his grasp. Once free you push him gently to the side so that you’re both rolling over, mouths still attached. He comes to rest on his back with you straddling him.

Charlie blinks up at you, taking in the way your breasts bounce in their bra cups as you busy yourself with the task of removing his clothes. He hadn’t even realized he was still in them until you began unbuttoning and pulling and pushing. Your impatience is clear once again in the way you divest him of the frustratingly excessive material and he finally gets the memo that he should help you.

With his pants and underwear pulled off and discarded, as well as the button up shirt that you had come to love as his signature look, you rest your palms flat on the plane of his chest. You’re still in your lingerie, as he had requested, only it is now beautiful askew. Your breasts now strain out of the cups, having been jostled into almost spilling out with your change of position. Your panties are sopping wet and stretched from his vigorous fingering and the evidence of your orgasm.

You’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

But you become even more beautiful when you wrap your hand around his aching cock, lifting up on your knees as you do so. Your fists slides up and down, up and down and he watches it, mesmerized, until you lean forward to catch his eye.

“What should I do, Charlie?”

Your face is soft and open. You’re asking for him to continue taking the lead. And Charlie realizes right then and there that he will never want to disappoint you. Snapping out his daze he lets his fingers dig into your flesh where his hands curl around your hips.

“Sit down on my cock, sweetheart.”

Sweetheart.

The term of endearment is so sugary. He’s called his son that, but never a lover, casual or otherwise, and never during the first time. Your face, however, lights up and you do as you’re told, sinking down onto his long, hard length. The impact draws a moan from both of your throats followed by gasped phrases spoken over one another.

“You’re so big!”

“You’re so tight!”

You both laugh at the overlap but laughter turns to groans as you roll your hips experimentally. After a few moments of this, it appears that Charlie becomes the impatient one finally.

“Ride me,” he spits through gritted teeth. Your nails imprint half moons in his skin as you clench at his tone, not quite hearing the words. Charlie sucks air through his teeth at the squeeze.

“What?”

“Ride me. I need you to fucking ride me.” You can tell that he’s trying to remain cool and collected, but his brow is furrowed and his bottom lip is caught between his teeth.

So you do as he says. You lift up and drop down, feeling the length of his cock slide through your sheath with a speed that you set, establishing a rhythm that has your toes curling. You let out a particularly shameless moan and Charlie opens his eyes. They widen immediately upon seeing that you’re clutching and squeezing at your own breast with one hand while grabbing onto his hip to stabilize you with the other. The sight alone of your face, screwed up in pleasure, flips a switch in Charlie and suddenly he is thrusting up into you without mercy.

“Charlie!” you cry out, both from surprise at the increased jostling and from how tremendously good it feels.

“I should have fucked you in the arcade. I would have if I had known how good you feel.”

“I – oh fuckfuck – knew,” you barely get out. Charlie hoists you back so that he’s sitting up with his back against the headrest now. The position gives him more leverage and power so he can lift you up and down his cock, bouncing you now with a rhythm that vibrates through your entire being.

“What was that, sweetheart?” Charlie asks, engulfing one of your breasts in his huge hand. The added sensation is perfect, but not quite enough. You wonder if you can coax more.

“I knew you would feel good.” You reach down to the base of his cock, encircling it as much as possible with it’s girth, and fisting upward just as he pulls you up, therefore maximizing the squeeze on his length. Charlie inhales abruptly and drops you back down.

“Little Miss Know-it-all, are you?” His voice is harsh and it sends a thrill throughout your body. Before you can respond, you’re pushed and yanked around, losing your grip with the motion.

“What - ?” Charlie’s hand on your throat quiets you. Not because he’s truly squeezing, but because the solid warmth of his hand causes you to squeak your way to silence. His adjustments now find you pulled up to the edge of the bed, legs spread and pushed back, with Charlie standing between them. Bent over, he grounds himself with one hand on your throat and one on your hip, positioning his tip back at the entrance to your weeping cunt. You expect him to slam his hips forward, to impale you with his cock, but he pauses with the swollen head just inside your folds.

“This okay?”

This power and control, the way he is manipulating your body for your pleasure and his own – he loves it. It’s so new and yet something he now wonders how he ever did without. But he also feels the need to check in and make sure that you’re still with him. The nod you give, the sparkle in your eye, and the quirk of your lips is all it takes to convince him and then he is plowing forward, slamming himself back in again and again. You let out a full throated moan and Charlie revels in the way your eyes roll all the way back.

He wonders what else will make you do that. What else will make your eyes roll back and your toes curl and your teeth sink into your bottom lip? He wonders, as his hand presses softly into the contours of your throat, what it would feel like to squeeze a little harder, and if the pressure would make you even more desperate for him. He wonders if you like a little pain with your pleasure, as he has long suspected he might enjoy, though has never truly had the chance to confirm.

But there will be time for that.

So now, he does his best to focus in on the sounds you release. Sounds of delight and surprise and sensual thrill. He coaxes you to your second climax and you don’t fight it. You don’t demure or wait for him or hesitate. Instead you unapologetically allow yourself to get lost in the pleasure he’s built for you, seizing and quaking beneath him without shame.

The sight and feeling are so beautiful he can’t help but follow soon after, pulling out and allowing releasing all over the bra and panties you had so generously left on for him. The sight of his seed landing on the delicate lace, as you lay beneath him fucked out and smiling, causes another tremor to rock through him, and he finds that he’s still cumming long after he usually would have finished.

Charlie finds himself in a daze in the immediate aftermath of his release. He looks around for something to clean you with, and when you notice you point out a box of tissues on the desk. After he’s done his best to wipe you up, you give him a kiss on the cheek. The mundane intimacy of the act makes him blush all the way to the hidden tips of his ears. It is absurd because you had just had sex, however the press of your lips to his skin seemed to seal the deal. This was not transactional. It was something more, Charlie can’t help but think to himself as you get up from the bed and skip to the bathroom.

In your absence Charlie again registers the smallness of your room. How large – out of place, maybe – he is amongst your delicate things. He pulls on his underwear and sits back down on the mattress, unsure.

Unsure about your expectations. Unsure about whether or not you’d want him to leave. Or stay.

Before he can make a decision in either direction you are bounding back into the room, a smile on your face. Your face is freshly washed and you’re in a faded, oversized tank top, having divested yourself of your abused lingerie. Charlie swallows at the sight of your breasts, free and outlined beneath the soft fabric. He adjusts his hands in his lap. No need to let you see him getting worked up again so soon like some horny teenager. You don’t seem to notice, instead slipping easily into bed beside him, shimmying under the covers and patting the space beside you so that he does the same.

So stay he will.

Once you’re both comfortable and situated, you slide into his arms, drawing them around your body without a question or seemingly a second though. Much like the way you’d slid into his life, Charlie thinks ruefully, nuzzling his face into the top of your head as you tuck in beneath his chin.

“Charlie?”

“Hm?”

“I know you always go to that diner on 15th for breakfast,” you begin, and Charlie’s heart spasms. Both at the thought of breakfast with you and the fact that you so casually know details about him. About his likes and his habits. He pulls you in a little tighter and nods his head.

“Yeah?”

“Would you mind if I show you a new place in the morning? I think you’ll really like it.”

And Charlie laughs. Because of course you’d want to push him out of his comfort zone. It’s what you do – push him to try new things. Push him to do things he wouldn’t usually consider. Push him to be the man he’d been working so hard for the past year to be.

“Yes, but I’m not changing the way I order my eggs,” he grumbles with humor, kissing the crown of your head. “Not yet.”

~*~

The next morning you order first, and you’ve never had breakfast with Charlie before, so when he asks for the same dish, you can’t possibly know that this is his first time ordering eggs Florentine.

As you both laugh and eat and sip coffee in the outdoor seating area of the quaint café you’d picked, fingers intertwined between you on the wrought iron table, you also can’t know that this is the happiest Charlie has felt in ages.

But he makes it his mission, right there and then, to do everything in his power to make you feel the same.

~*~

Tagging some lovely friends (please let me know if you would like to be tagged or untagged in the future!): @celestiasin @tlcwrites @noocturnalchild @thedivinemissn @insufferablelust @edencherries @historyandfandoms50 @lostinthedrive @thewilddingleberries @mariesackler @safarigirlsp @direnightshade @sacklerscumrag @clydesfavoritegirl @wayward-rose @hopeamarsu @barbers-glimmerin-darlin @finn-ray-nal-beads @fizzywoohoo @maybe-your-left @aliveandlonely @han-not-solo @mrs-zimmerman @maryforyou @jynzandtonic @renmaulxo @millenialcatlady @soggywhore @transparentmeoo @leia-suns @alpha-lobito

#paper-n-ashes #charlie barber x reader #charlie barber x you #Charlie Barber/reader #Charlie Barber/you #Charlie Barber fanfiction #Charlie Barber smut #marriage story fanfiction #Marriage Story smut #writing #smut #Roanniom #tw: unprotected sex #tw: choking

264 notes · View notes

smol-and-grumpy · 3 years

Text

What I Want Most - Four

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: Dean’s life has been all work and no play lately. When Gabe, his friend, coerced him into tagging along to a club, he couldn’t say no as Gabe has been pestering him for a while now. What Dean didn’t expect was that he’d meet his match in that club in the form of a stunning woman with underlying daddy issues.

Warnings: Daddy kink (by now, this is a given), teasing, rough sex, face fuck

Word Count: 2707

Beta’d by: @deanwanddamons <3

Series Masterlist ~ SPN Masterlist

As Dean had promised her, he helped her with the presentation in the morning right after they had gotten into the office.

They were running a little late since she had trouble concealing the marks he had left on her. He watched her trying to conceal it while he leaned against the door frame, his fingers working on his tie.

He almost let it slip out that he didn’t want that, didn’t want her to conceal it, but he knew better than to be a dick.

Something clicked in him though as he watched her. Something that made his heart swell because having her at his place, having her in his apartment, in his bed, breathing the same air, being together in a confined space, all of that didn’t bother him at all. And even though they barely know each other, he still thinks he knows enough. At least it’s enough for him to think that he'd like her here permanently. There’s just this sense of familiarity that he can’t shake off even if he’d try.

Dean knows that he shouldn’t go there. Not yet. Too early people would say. Just right, is what he thinks.

In the afternoon, Dean’s at his desk preparing for the next meeting while she’s still out at another meeting. They have way too many of those, if he’s being honest. However, he thinks it’s fun to rile her up. He’s seen that she took her phone with her and her laptop too, but sending things to her laptop seems to be a bit risky so he opts for her phone.

Dean whips his dick out, gives it a couple of strokes, and it doesn’t take long for his little friend to stand erect. No wonder, he’s been horny all morning and he hopes that the execs have their answer by the end of the week because honestly, Dean doesn’t think he’d survive another week with a constant boner and impure thoughts.

He takes a picture, making sure that the drop of precum glistens so that she can see. He sends it out to her, typing in some words for emphasis.

D: [image]

D: Wish you could get out of the meeting earlier and hop on daddy’s dick

That was a good one. Dean chuckles to himself as he places his phone back on his desk. He also now has to push his boner back into his pants and it’s really not comfortable. He doesn’t really know if he’s torturing her or torturing himself with the stunt he just pulled.

While he thought it was a good idea, somehow after more thinking, he thinks it’s the worst idea, but he can’t change it anymore now and has to probably suffer the consequences.

He doubts that she’ll answer him and thank god he’ll be gone and sitting in another meeting when hers is finished. That way he might not feel her wrath and by the time he gets out of the meeting, she maybe will have forgotten about it.

The clock ticks and Dean has never wished for time to move faster right about now. In fifteen minutes he can go to his meeting. He even wonders if he should leave his office earlier. Go get coffee and chat to Garth who’s probably already there in the meeting anyway because he’s a fucking nerd.

Dean flinches when the door to their office opens earlier than expected. Tries to act like he doesn’t fucking know what’s going on when she closes the door and storms into the room.

Y/N drops her laptop and her phone loudly onto her desk before she walks over to stand next to him. Dean still acts like he’s occupied, doesn’t spare her a glance.

“What the fuck, Dean!” She’s shouting and that’s when Dean tilts his head to see her standing with her hands braced on her hips.

Oh, she’s angry, alright. But she looks absolutely cute.

“What?” He feigns innocence.

“The picture!”

Another shout. Dean’s happy the office is soundproof. The only place sound could spill out is through the cracks of the door.

“Well,” He rolls his chair back, putting on his best cocky smirk, too. Because now the only way is forward, “Did you like it?”

“My God, Dean,”

“Ah,” He wriggles his fingers, crooks it, and beckons her closer with it, “Who am I again?”

“You have to pull that card, don’t you?” She pouts and it’s then that he knows that he has won.

“Yeah,” Dean nods with a smile as he pats his thigh, “C’mon, you know you want it,”

She licks her lips, and looks at the door.

“Nobody’s going to come in and if someone does, I can hide you under our joint desk.”

“Fine,” She exhales and walks the two feet over, she pushes her skirt up to be able to sit down more comfortably, facing away from him.

He’s still hard and she starts to grind as his hands travel up her thigh. As his fingers graze the fabric of her panties, he feels it wet.

Dean lets out a groan, “Baby girl, you’re soaked,”

“Mmh,” She hums and lays her head against the crook of his neck. Her lips graze his skin and she starts to nibble at his flesh. Dean can’t resist that even if he wanted to.

“Did daddy do this to you, huh?”

“Uh-huh,”

“Want me to shove my fat cock into your pussy, baby? Make it a little better?” He doesn’t wait for an answer, his fingers go to his zipper, pulling out his cock that still hung out of his underwear.

He repositions her when he has it out, slapping the hard meat against her wet pussy, making her moan, “Sit on it,”

She lifts herself up a little and pushes her panties to the side before she sits down on his cock. Dean slides in easily. She’s fucking soaked. He lets out a groan as she leans back. His hand goes to her head, tilts it so that he can kiss her sweet lips.

“So good, baby,” He whispers against her mouth, “So fucking good for me,”

Their movements are slow, shallow, and she’s needy because he can’t reach deep enough, so she sits up straighter to take him further in. Her hands are braced on the desk, and fuck, it’s good. So fucking perfect when she bounces on his cock.

Dean’s lost in the moment, lost in her when his phone rings.

“Who’s it?” He asks as she is closer to his office phone.

“Garth,” She says in between pants.

That’s the moment he realizes that he should be in a meeting and by the look at the clock, one that has already started seven fucking minutes ago.

“Fuck,” He pushes her off him and scrambles up, pushing his wet cock back into his pants as he threads through his hair one-handed. He shoves his phone into his pocket and takes the laptop with him only realizing when he reaches the door that she’s been laughing.

That little brat.

He stalls by the door, what’s those couple of minutes going to do anyway, and looks back at her, “You did it on purpose, didn’t you? Agreeing to fuck me and make me forget my meeting?”

Y/N shrugs, “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Dean?”

“You know what? I’m almost proud of you, but tell you what. You want dirty? You can have dirty, you little brat,”

He storms out and lets the door slam close. Just for the dramatic effect.

Well, Dean should have seen it coming. He made his bed and now he has to lay in it.

Halfway into the meeting, she sent him texts too. A picture of her wet cunt, two fingers deep in them.

Y/N: Daddy, my pussy needs attention

He’s grumpy, still.

D: Baby, this is the payback?

Y/N: No, the fuck was the payback. Now I’m just really needy

D: You are definitely something else

Y/N: Find an excuse?

Y/N: No one can take care of me as you do

Y/N: Please?

D: Baby, seriously, I can’t. They just said that we’ll stay to have a meeting with Hong Kong so I guess it’s going to be late. Can you come by tonight?

Y/N: No

Dean frowns. Well, not that she’s not allowed to say no but ugh, he would really love to spend the night with her again.

D: No?

Y/N: Yeah, got an early presentation, remember? Can’t be late again so I rather not sleepover at yours.

D: How about I come sleep at yours?

Y/N: Is my pussy worth for you to make your way across town just to sink your cock into for a couple of minutes?

D: First of all, it’s not going to be just a couple of minutes, alright? Second of all, Yes. Worth all that and so much more.

Y/N: Guess I’ll see you then.

Y/N: [Address]

Y/N: Apartment 265

D: Can’t fucking wait, baby

Y/N: [image]

Y/N: Me neither

Fuck. The picture is of her spread legs with her dripping pussy and one finger up her ass. Dean bites on his bottom lip so as not to fucking groan out loud.

After the meeting, Dean went back home to pack some things for an overnight stay, and on his way over to her apartment, he had a flash of an idea of how to prank her.

Y/N wants to do it the dirty way so he’s going to give her that. It’s what he promised after having been tricked into fucking her and totally missed the start of the meeting, and Dean knows an opportunity when he sees one. She’ll probably be mad. Actually, he knows that she will.

As soon as Dean steps through the door, she attacks him just like he did her. She kneels right down, her hands working on his belt while Dean hasn’t even had the chance to set his duffel down. She’s only in a large shirt, probably doesn’t wear anything underneath, at least that’s what Dean hopes. Clothes are way overrated with them.

“Woah,” He whispers, “Easy tiger,”

She smiles up at him with a glint of mischief.

Dean’s fond of that look, comes to fucking love it on her. It suits her personality. She’s the type who doesn’t settle for any less than what she deserves and strives to get the best out of life by taking what she thinks she’s earned.

And in that moment, she thinks she deserves his cock.

He sets his duffel down, strokes the hair back on her head as he lets her pull down his zipper. Before she can pull down his underwear, though, Dean threads his fingers in her hair, one hand gripping the side of her arm to pull her up.

His mouth is on hers, kissing her, tongue going in deep, almost making her choke. One hand squeezes her cheek when he breaks the kiss, and then he growls low, “Do you think you deserve my cock after the shit you pulled?”

“Please,” She whines.

“Yeah,” He chuckles, “Beg for it, baby girl,”

“Please, daddy, can I suck your cock?”

He pecks her lips once, “Sounds good, keep going,”

“Please, please, please,” She begs, “Please, I really want your cock, daddy,”

Dean grins, but he doesn’t let her go yet. Instead, he picks her up, carries her over to the small and round dining table, lays her on it with her head dipping off the edge.

“You want this?” He rubs his clothed dick on her face, “Huh? Tell me how much you want my cock, baby,”

“Please, daddy,” She whines, “I want it so much,”

His hand goes to his underwear with a smile, fingers hooking into the fabric, pulling them down below his balls. His dick springs free, slaps wetly against his lower abdomen and she swallows down the drool in her mouth.

He lays his heavy sac on her forehead, while he slaps his dick down on her face and she’s a good girl because she opens her mouths, sticks her tongue out for him to rub his shaft up and down on.

Sex with her is by far the best he had and even though he hasn’t known her that long, he knows exactly how far he can go, knows what turns her on.

“Look at you, baby, so eager for my cock,” He coos and he pulls her back by her armpit just a little, letting her head hang lower over the edge of the table, “You ready? Tap out anytime, okay, baby?”

Y/N nods, Yes, daddy,”

“Good girl,” Dean whispers and pushes the tip of his cock into her awaiting mouth. He slowly starts to fuck in and out of it, shallow at first, “Sucking my cock so fucking good, baby,”

Both his hands go to her shirt, pulling it apart by the seam and there’s a sound of protest but it’s muffled by his cock in her mouth.

“I’ll get you a new shirt,” He chuckles.

Dean's hands are now playing with her exposed tits while he thrusts his dick in and out of her mouth, stopping occasionally to let her catch a breath. His hand goes further down her body at the same time his dick goes further down her throat, until he cups her pussy in his hand and starts to rub at her clit.

She’s soaked. He fucking loves how wet she gets. Loves to bury his face in it, thinks that he should let her sit on his face, smother him with her pussy, but that’s for some other time or later or tonight, he hasn’t decided yet.

The sound of her gagging on his cock is loud in the room and Dean makes sure to pull back every time he thinks she needs a break. His fingers are now fucking into her wet cunt and she moans with her mouth full, the vibrations tickling his dick.

He begins to fuck her harder the closer he feels he gets to his release. His hand has abandoned her cunt, but he slapped down on it, just to make her yelp up with his cock in her mouth, it’s a feeling out of this world. His hands work their way up her body again and he grabs one tit, uses it as a fucking handle to hold on to while he fucks her throat. His other hand goes to her throat, touches it, and presses down on it to feel his dick through her skin and flesh.

Fuck.

Feeling himself in her throat makes him want to come faster.

“Where do you want daddy to come, huh?” He asks, knowing that she can’t answer, “You want me to come down your throat, baby?”

She hums.

Dean takes that as a yes. He comes with a deep growl, fucking into her harder, buries his dick inside as far as he can go. As he comes, his whole body trembles. She’s tapping. She’s fucking tapping and it’s because Dean still doesn’t pull back. With another growl, he pulls back, taking his dick out of her throat and it comes out sloppy with cum still attached to its tip and her tongue.

“Jesus Christ!” He groans as he turns her around and pulls her up so that she’s kneeling on the dining table.

He kisses her hard, rough, tastes himself in her mouth.

“Good girl,” Dean smiles against her lips, “You’re such a fucking good girl, baby. So good for me,” He strokes her hair back, sees her looking at him teary-eyed and tired, but there’s still that fucking glint in her eyes. She’s up for more already, he knows.

Fucking insatiable.

“You get your reward for being a good girl, okay?”

“‘K,” She nods.

“I want you to sit on my face, let me take care of my girl before I can fuck you again,” Dean leaves his forehead on hers, kisses her nose softly, “Would you like that, huh?”

She doesn’t answer, but she nods with a big smile.

“‘K,” He whispers, as he pecks her lips, “C’mon, let's get you to bed,”

Chapter Five

Please share your thoughts with me, I’d love to hear your feedback.

#what i want most #dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester fic #dean winchester smut #dean winchester fan fic #dean winchester fan fiction #nathalie writes

200 notes · View notes

monsterywriting · 4 years

Text

Thenerius - pt 2

word count: 5,675

male tiefling x female reader

Read Part 1 here

AN: whelp i guess this is getting (hopefully just) a third part... good luck to everyone else who’s going through finals week and don’t procrastinate your final projects/tests like i am! literally have a final today to study for and take after my 8 am and a portfolio due friday i haven’t started on lol

You were getting one last bucket-full of water for a much-needed bath from the pump around the back of the barn, too far to hear when the thundering sound of hooves on the dirt path approach the cottage. You also miss the shout of greeting and the sound of voices entering the cottage.

The sun was finally dipping below the horizon on a long day of playing catch-up around the homestead, and your only plans for the evening were to wash up and make dinner before passing out. So, when you finally reentered through the back door soaked in sweat and worn work clothes only to see your mother sitting at the small wooden table with none other than Thenerius, you were understandably shocked.

He was obviously here to kill you, getting revenge for how you humiliated him and refused his advances when he wanted you to accept them the most. You had been brave in that moment, brushed aside the fact that he was a pirate and more likely than not a killer, and now you would be paying the price.

When the tiefling saw you frozen at the doorway, his already bright demeanor seemed to reach the levels of the surface of the sun, blinding then burning when he stood up to greet you enthusiastically. You almost wish he was here to kill you, that fate infinitely better than whatever he actually had planned instead.

Pointedly ignoring him, you addressed your mother only, asking if she took her medicine yet.

“Your friend from work was keeping me company,” your mother smiled, though it was clear that she was drained from the encounter, “He brought your weekly payment from Aedan.”

Your head snapped over to Thenerius, the tiefling having the nerve to grin and hold up a pouch of coins. You were distracted, however, when your mother let out a soft cough she tried in vain to hold back. She broke out into a coughing fit, starting small and growing until they wracked her body.

Your concern grew, helping her to the bedroom and quickly getting some cough syrup into her. Once she was settled, you went back into the main room to deal with the purple menace.

He was standing awkwardly in the middle of the room once you returned, the pouch sitting on the table. You stalk over and grab the pouch, shoving it into the tiefling’s chest.

“You need to leave,” you hiss, beginning to usher Thenerius towards the door.

“Wait!” The bastard had the nerve to dig his heels in, refusing to move until you give up on forcing him.

“What?” You spat, glaring up at him. Perhaps you would have found it amusing, how he had to duck his head to keep his horns from scraping the ceiling, a grizzled pirate trying to make himself fit inside the cozy cottage. No, you definitely would have found it hilarious, if said pirate wasn’t in your cottage unannounced, the location of which you never divulged during working hours, apparently trying to win your affections after your admittedly callous rejection.

“I-” Thenerius hesitated, any confidence he had that carried him all the way to your home dissipating when you weren’t as responsive to his charms as he’d come to expect from you, “I wanted to apologize. You were right, about the proposal. I shouldn’t have done that.”

You blinked, having assumed you’d be given another unwanted love confession. You’re not sure what to make of the admission, though you’re certain it wasn’t a trick, as he seemed genuinely remorseful.

“What part, that we’ve only known each other for three weeks or that it was because you were so lonely and any girl who wagged her tail at you would have had you falling for her?” You’re internally grimacing as soon as the words are out, unable to believe how cold you sound even to yourself. You didn’t want to goad him to anger if he was just here to apologize.

“If my memory serves correctly, I believe the exact phrase you used was ‘bat their eyelashes’ at me.” The attempt at humor didn’t quite reach Thenerius’ eyes, but you still allowed yourself to deflate at the opportunity of a reprieve, “but that it came too soon. I had done it thinking of all the time that had passed since I met you, the time I spent halfway across the world and all I could think about was returning to you. Your smile alone made the entire six month journey worth it, but you gave me so much more in that time - not your love. I know that, now, but… your time, and affection. Once you said that - that we’d only been in each other’s presence for three weeks - I realized, perhaps I was rushed in my assessment of who you were. I filled the gaps of who I wanted you to be in my head.”

By the end of his faltering speech, you had shut your eyes, screwing them tightly shut in order to avoid having to look into Thenerius’ eyes, the raw emotion that swelled behind them that threatened to consume you with it. You refused to allow yourself to be caught up in the moment, to let yourself fall any deeper in than you already were entrenched from his flowery words. Just words, you told yourself.

“Is that all you needed to say?” You clear your throat, opening your eyes and looking anywhere but him, your resolve thinning with the mere awareness of his gaze upon you, feeling yourself being worn down.

Perhaps ‘worn down’ wasn’t the right verbiage, though it very much felt like it. Dragging you out into the light? Exposing you to be scrutinized, or to be known? What is the difference, if any? Either way, you felt as though Thenerius could read every passing thought darting around your head at lightening speed, projecting loud and clear your true desires no matter what you could say to the contrary.

“No, I want to know you. My feelings haven’t changed since that night, but I want you to feel the same.”

You let out a deep breath you weren’t aware you were holding. The short sentence is so simple, clear in meaning and intent. It’s… infuriating. A wave of something flowed over you in that moment, a realization like a bucket of ice water dousing you. You were shaking, your realized, but not with cold.

“You want to change my mind?” You whisper, cursing yourself for your inability to do much more in this conversation than to parrot his words, “You come to my home - unprompted, in fact, considering our last conversation, entirely unnecessarily - to what, exactly? Prove that I’m some prize to be won over by you? Come see how sorry my life is, see my sick mother and how I work my ass off at the tavern and here and think I’ll jump into your arms with some words? You must know that I wouldn’t go with you. Nor would I sit here waiting for you to return from the sea, hoping you’ll return for a few weeks every year and grace me with your presence and gold.”

You pause for air, realizing with horror that you were crying of all things. You quickly run your hands over your cheeks, glaring at Thenerius in a silent challenge, waiting for him to turn tail and run, “Now go.”

In yet another turn of seemingly endless events that should no longer have surprised you with how consistently they’ve been happening, Thenerius surprised you yet again.

“Well, this is awkward. I may have sent my men back south with my ship. I’m in need of room and board,” Thenerius said, and for the life of you, no matter how closely you examined his expression, you could not figure out what the hell he was thinking.

“Go to The Deep, then. I happen to be of the inside knowledge that there’s plenty of vacancies this time of year,” you said, brushing past the tiefling on your way back to your forgotten bucket of water, ready to escape this suffocating atmosphere.

“I don’t have enough gold for the length of time I’m planning on staying,” he replied.

“This is sounding more and more like your crew left you here and took the ship for themselves,” you deadpan, hefting the bucket up and carefully carrying it back towards the bathroom.

“My crew wouldn’t do that,” Thenerius’ voice suddenly turned serious, “I wouldn’t- I wouldn’t have come here if they had.”

“Well, unlucky me, then,” you grumble, “You’re still not staying here.”

“You’re very sarcastic,” Thenerius noted, and you prayed for his sake that the comment wasn’t a part of his vow to get to know the real you.

You disappear down the hall and into the bathroom, dumping the bucket into the basin. To your great relief, the water was still steaming.

“Wait, your pay!” Thenerius walked in behind you. You could tell the exact moment he realized where he was, quickly averting his eyes from you.

You roll your eyes. As if you would undress for any reason while he was still in the house.

“Please, you may have lied to my mother, but I’m no fool,” you snort, ignoring the outstretched hand to check the water, “Mr. Thistle would never trust a pirate with money, much less tell you where I live.”

“I’ll- come back later,” he says, turning to get out the room.

“No, you’re leaving,” you follow after him.

“Dear, it’s much to too late for him to ride, he can sleep here.” You and Thenerius both jump at your mother’s sudden appearance, both of you having forgotten that you were arguing right in front of the bedroom.

“But-” your protest is cut short when she only shakes her head, and you hope to Tova that she only caught the tail-end of your conversation with Thenerius.

“If you must, you can ride with him tomorrow to ask Aedan to give him a discount. Tomorrow.”

You run your hands down your face, glancing out the nearest window to confirm it was in fact dark out.

“Fine,” you sigh, pointing at Thenerius, “but you’re gone first thing tomorrow!”

Thenerius at least has the decency to not look too excited under your scrutiny, thanking your mother quietly.

“Go wash up, mom, it’s ready,” you inform her, moving away from the doorway so she can slip past.

You consider telling Thenerius to go last in the bath, but you’re covered in dried mud and animal shit and you weren’t going to have his tavern smell stinking up the sofa.

“You’re next,” you tell him, finally noticing how cramped the hallway was with two people in it. You push past him to to sit at the table again.

Thenerius followed you, keen to the fact that he was on thin ice and remained wisely silent as you waited for your mother to finish in the bathroom.

When she exited, dressed in her nightgown and hair wrapped tightly in a towel, you ushered Thenerius in, barely giving him time to grab his bag on the floor next to the chair he’d been sitting in when you first walked in. You enter close behind, going around him to grab a towel for him to use and quickly leaving him to his privacy, letting out the longest exhale of your life once the door shut behind you. You go back to the table and sit, trying not to think about the naked tiefling in your bathtub as you started the fire under the stove.

As soon as Thenerius stepped out of the bathroom with his bag in hand, you rush in, not making eye contact before you slam the door shut behind yourself.

The water is still somewhat lukewarm, and clear enough besides the murkiness from the soap. You think about literally anything else besides the fact that Thenerius had been in the same water just minutes before you, using the bowl to run water over your hair and quickly lathering the bar soap with a clean washcloth. The sooner you get out the better, you think.

It isn’t until you’re out of the bath and looking at your nightclothes that you realize you’re going to have to wear them in front of him, unless you change into clean day clothes just to change into them in the privacy of your bedroom later.

It’s just tonight, you tell yourself, he’ll be gone tomorrow. And why would you have to modify your routine for him? He’s the one intruding. It won’t be a big deal so lang as you act like it isn’t. It’s not like you’ll be prancing around naked. They’re your winter ones, the material made much thicker than the normal cotton.

Properly talked up, you walk out, pretending not to notice how Thenerius stops mid-sentence in a conversation with your mother to stare at you like the moon herself descended in front of him.

“I’ll have dinner ready soon.” You mumble, not stopping until you were safely in the kitchen.

You take the last eight eggs and crack them onto the iron skillet sitting on the stove, immediately sizzling before you take a flat spoon to scramble and scrape them into three plates. You then add leftover cuts from a chicken you culled from your flock a week ago to the skillet to cook, already seasoned. Then, you took the stack of unleavened bread your mother made during the day while you worked before putting them on another flat slab of iron on the stove to warm them.

Once you had a sizable enough stack for three people, you wrapped the resulting unleavened bread in cloth and balanced the three plates in your arms and carried everything back into the dining area.

You had heard Thenerius and your mother sharing a hushed conversation through the walls, but weren’t able to make out any specifics. However, when thy both immediate hushed up once you entered, it was clear who the topic of their chat was.

You set down the plates, frowning once you realized you’d have to sit next to Thenerius, as it was only a four-person table and they were already sitting at opposite ends. Once you were seated, however, the dinner conversation was thankfully limited as everyone focused on their plates.

Then it was time for your mother to take her tablets, you watching carefully as she downed them with a cup of water. She retired to the bedroom shortly after, and though she tried to make it seem as though she was solely doing it to give you and Thenerius some privacy, it was obvious she was drained of all energy as she slowly shuffled down the hall.

You ignore Thenerius and grab the plates, taking them to the kitchen to dump the scraps in the bin and be washed. Thenerius’ plate is practically clean already, but your mother’s is concerningly hardly touched at all.

Dunking the emptied plates plates in the half-full sink, you scrub vigorously. Just as you are about to place the first one on the rack to dry, however, Thenerius takes it from you and dries it with the dishtowel.

You decide to say nothing, simply handing him the next plate once he placed the previous one on the rack.

You bring Thenerius a stack of blankets, dumping them on the cot next to where he sat for him to assemble himself.

Just as you turn to leave, a hand falls on your shoulder and you immediately stiffen. It quickly retracts.

“I don’t need this many,” Thenerius says quietly, looking dejected when you look over your shoulder at him as he tries to hand you a few of the blankets back.

“You do,” you inform him, “we’re at a higher altitude. It’s going to get colder.”

Thenerius places them back on the pile, his mouth opening and then closing. You wait. Finally, he clears his throat, “Thank you, for dinner. And for letting me stay here.”

“Thank my mom,” you reply, “and don’t get used to it. I was serious when I said you’re gone tomorrow.”

After a moment, Thenerius smiles, small but hopeful, “not first thing?”

“You have to pay for the meal and bed,” you huff, turning back around and going into the bedroom, careful to be quiet as you cross the cottage so as to not wake your mother.

You make sure the door is shut securely, and for good measure, you stick a piece of paper in the gap between the top of the door and the frame. You don’t think you’ll be able to sleep with the knowledge of a stranger sleeping in the next room, but almost as soon as your head hits the pillow, you’re waking to the sound of the rooster crowing the next morning.

You sit up abruptly, your mother still asleep next to you. You swing your legs over the edge of the mattress and scurry to the door, the paper still in the same spot you placed it when you take it back down.

You open the door quietly and slip out, glancing around the corner at the end of the hall to the cot. On the side closest to you, the stack of blankets are folded neatly, Thenerius’ pack leaning against one of the cot’s legs.

Your eyebrows furrow, going back to make sure the bathroom was empty before checking the kitchen, seeing neither hide nor hair of Thenerius in the cottage. Before you go search outside for the tiefling, you decide to at least get the stove going to warm up the cottage. As you stand in the kitchen looking for the box of matches, you realize you can hear the familiar, rhythmic thumping of an axe hitting wood.

Glancing out the window, you see Thenerius at an old stump splitting firewood a few yards away, his coat off and hanging from a tree branch. He stops to brush his hair back, careful to avoid his horns, before continuing.

Against your better judgement, you study him from the safety of the indoors. The last time you’d seen him, it had been shaved close. He apparently grew it out since then, dark waves forming curls around the nape of his neck that you’d noticed when he first arrived at the deep and now was sticking to his scalp with sweat.

As the sun broke over the horizon and illuminated the clearing, you could see how Thenerius’ back muscles flexed under the fabric of his shirt, sleeves rolled up to expose his thick forearms. Obviously, as a pirate, he would have to be at least somewhat fit. Hell, you’d felt them whenever he would insist you touch his arm while he flexed or would pull you into his lap.

But none of that quite prepared you for how he would look without the barrier of his coat, how he likely looked working out at sea.

You force your eyes back to the task at hand before they can venture downwards, finally finding the matches and lighting one with shaking hands before lighting the scrap of paper and tossing both into the stove.

Shutting the door and opening the grate, you return to the bedroom to change into your day clothes.

You immediately regret stepping outside as soon as you do, the light of the sun doing little to warm the icy air rushing inside your lungs and burning against your skin. Still, you are determined as you march around the cottage to where Thenerius continues to split the pieces of wood, though the pile of wood that took you months to chop down and cut into sections was now nearly gone and a neat stack of his split pieces had taken its place.

“I noticed you were running low,” Thenerius calls out as you approach, smiling as your eyes met his.

“It’s fine,” you huff, Thenerius’ smile brightening as though you just extended him the best praise of his life.

Annoyance bubbled in your stomach. Did he think he was cute? Acting like a love-struck teen and not a Tova-damned pirate? Or did he think you would be tricked by the illusion he put forth if he played pretend enough?

“Hurry up and finish that. There’s more work to do before breakfast,” you mutter, turning towards the barn as he would no doubt be crestfallen as you continue, “Then we’re going to The Deep.”

You go back to the kitchen briefly to grab the scrap bin before going to the chicken coop, making sure to latch the screen door behind you. You drop the scraps at the center of the enclosure, the chickens running over each other in a clucking mass of feathers and beating wings in their attempt to get at the food first. A few even manage to steal a few morsels before the more dominant ones chase them off.

Once the nesting area was empty, you went over and started collecting eggs in the same bin. Only six today, and you cooked the last of them in storage for dinner the night before. You worry your bottom lip, looking at the flock.

There were five hens and the rooster. You had been planning to let them breed in the spring to bring their numbers up, but that was still a long ways away.

You glanced over at the goats, currently in the pasture with the horses. You had two bucks and eight does. You had sold off the kids of four of the does, leaving you with five kids, three males. There was still the cured meat you got from the storehouse the other day, so you wouldn’t have to do anything drastic for food just yet, but it wouldn’t last soon at your current rate.

You had been planning on buying rabbits to raise for meat and fur, but you hadn’t been able to find the time to finish the winter hutch that was still partially completed in the barn.

Then you thought about everything else you had to do soon - castrate the three kids, patch the barn roof, harvest the second pasture’s grass and dry it for hay… and it seemed like every day you found something that needed repairing or replacing.

But… if Thenerius does plan on staying, you just may be able to keep everything afloat for the time being. With him there to collect the eggs and milk the goats while you worked shifts at the deep, then- appalled that you were planning ahead as though you would allow Thenerius to stay for months on end with you. No, you survived the last winter without any help, you could do the same this year.

Letting out a sigh, you dropped the eggs off in the kitchen before going back to the barn to wrap the horses snugly in blankets and let them out to graze in the pasture connected to the barn.

By that point, Thenerius comes to find you. You were admittedly surprised he’d finished that quickly, soaked with sweat and breathing heavily as he told you he was finished. You had even gone to check, not quite able to believe he’d gone through the entire wood pile that fast, or at least correctly. He looked proud when you peer up at him, but you refuse to praise him, directing him instead to the pasture while you grab two pails from the barn.

After showing him how to milk the does, you quickly fill about two pail's worth of milk between you from the four kidless does.

After taking the milk to the small pasteurizer in the barn, you set about making breakfast.

After taking the milk to the small pasteurizer in the barn, you and Thenerius returned to the cottage, your mother already up and standing by the stove.

You waste no time getting breakfast ready, making the six eggs you collected and take out the smoked meat. You make up two plates, setting them down in front of the two.

“I’ll be back soon,” you tell your mother, gripping her shoulder for a moment, “Don’t forget to take your medicine.”

“I’ve been taking it for three years, I don’t need you reminding all the time, you know,” your mother huffed, but she still pressed a kiss to the top of your head and waving you off.

“You aren’t going to eat?” Thenerius asked, thankfully swallowing his mouthful before speaking.

“I ate a couple boiled eggs while I cooked,” you reply, “clean the dishes after you’re done. We’ll go to The Deep afterwards.”

Grabbing your purse and heading to the barn, you click your tongue at the door leading out to the pasture, grabbing his saddle as your horse neighs loudly and nearly trampling over Thenerius’ horse in his attempt to get to you.

Any attempts on your part to name the capricious animal had been in vain, as he only ever responded to the sound of a clicking tongue, what your mother called him over to eat. It explained why he was fatter than a pregnant mare when you got here, unridden and getting fat on the lush pasture to himself and the treats.

Horse, as you’d taken to referring to him in your head, shoved his face into your hands, sticking your entire hand into his mouth in search of treats. You fish out a peeled hard-boiled egg from your pocket, the treat disappearing from your hand before you can even unfurl your fingers, Horse chewing it down quickly. Thenerius’ horse ventures over once she realizes you have food, and you have to press an open palm against Horse’s face to keep him from snatching the second egg you pull out before she can gently take it from you.

“Are those the eggs you ‘ate’?” You jump as Thenerius suddenly appears next to you, and you glare at him for sneaking up at you.

“I need to bribe him to come over and let me saddle him,” you said, neither confirming or denying the tiefling’s accusation, “he’ll be angry the entire ride otherwise.”

“Why didn’t you eat?” Thenerius presses, his eyes never leaving you as you unpin Horse’s blanket and refold it, throwing it over his back before securing his saddle on top.

“There wasn’t enough,” you shrug, climbing onto Horse’s back and pressing your legs momentarily into his side to get him to start walking.

You’re almost to the main road when you hear Thenerius pull up beside you.

“You should have taken mine,” he says after a moment.

You sigh. Clearly, wanting a nice, quiet stroll into town was too much to ask for, “Our horse is fine. He needs the exercise, anyways.”

“Not the horse, the food,” Thenerius said, actually sounding irate with you, “if there wasn’t enough you should have eaten mine.”

You bite back a laugh. You’ve heard Thenerius actually angry before, yelling at his crew members when one shoved another into a table in the tavern and broke it.

He’d been absolutely furious then, scaring even you with how his red eyes burned like hot coals, his face darkening to what you assumed to be an unhealthy purple-blue color as he nearly came to blows with the offenders. That feared pirate captain now reprimanded you like a child.

“Please, it’s one meal,” you snort, “I had plenty while I was working.”

“You shouldn’t skip meals,” he insisted, drawing close to your side to look down at you sternly, “You’re going to still be working the rest of the day after this, aren’t you?”

You roll your eyes and snap your reins, Horse speeding up to a canter and leaving Thenerius behind. The journey was familiar to you both, and you don’t even need to provide the horse with direction as he follows the twists and turns of the winding path with a sure foot.

You just want to hurry and reach The Deep, collect your pay, dump Thenerius on them and then go to Alfore to meet with the doctor about your mother.

You reach The Deep before Thenerius, tying Horse to a post outside the stables and making a beeline inside with barely contained excitement.

When you enter the tavern, Lenora is the only one in. Her welcoming smile quickly shrinks into a sheepish one once she sees you, however, turning on one heel to head straight towards the inn portion of the building.

Your eyes narrow, making a detour from Mr. Thistle’s office to go after her. You had an inkling as to what that was all about, and you couldn’t help but need to confirm it.

Your hand falls onto her shoulder and grips it tight, yanking her back just before she can abscond up the steps.

“Where are you going?” You ask, putting on a pleasant smile for the few patrons at the bar as you steer her down the hall to the privacy of the storage room, once an office.

“Please don’t kill me - he tricked me into telling!” Lenora begged for mercy immediate, clasping both hands in front of her.

“I highly doubt that,” you cross your arms, raising an eyebrow and waiting for her to try again.

Lenora had always been something of a romantic, constantly falling for one sweet gesture after another and declaring someone her ‘soulmate’ every few months. If she caught wind of Thenerius’ proposal, of course she’d think it was fine to play matchmaker. But that didn’t mean you weren’t going to make her sweat to teach her a lesson.

“Ok, but my intentions were good!” She pleaded, shaking your arm, “I mean, he obviously loves you, so I thought if he saw how you were living, you could get him to give you enough money for your mom!”

Your eyes widen, anger draining from your face and replaced with hurt, “so you told a stranger where I live, where my mother lives, so I could get him to feel sorry for me and bankroll my expenses? What else would I do, hm? Let him sleep with me for an allowance?”

Lenora realized her mistake too late, unable to backtrack as you spun around and left the room. You walk straight past Mr. Thistle’s office, too distraught to think about what you came here to do.

You untie Horse and quickly mount him, spurring him to go forward.

“Please don’t be angry! I didn’t mean you would do anything like that, I just wanted to help you-” you snap the reins twice to get Horse to a gallop.

“Are you okay?” You think Thenerius calls out, but you pay him no time as you race past, reaching the main road in no time and heading down the straight path to Alfore.

Your breathing is erratic as you try to get a handle on the unfamiliar emotions that threatened to overwhelm you. Perhaps in the past, you would have acted out in anger, lashed out at Lenora for the insult implied.

Now, however, you’re just tired. Worn out from two years of being back in this shithole, struggling to make ends meet, doing whatever you could. And because of that, your own coworker - someone you thought of as a friend, even - believed you to be so unscrupulous in your need for money that you’d take advantage of someone’s emotions for your own ends.

The worst part is, you were tempted. Tempted to step back. Tempted to let someone else take the reins. Tempted to use Thenerius’ misguided feelings for you to your advantage.

Had this what you’d been reduced to, from academic work to flirting shamelessly with customers to line your pockets? Do things your mother never did even when she was doing the same job, running the homestead, and saving money for you to move to the capital for your schooling?

So, at the end of your rapid-fire cycling through the stages of grief, you have no desire to fight Lenora over her true thoughts about you, nor do you wish to turn on Thenerius for the way he’s crashed into your life. You don’t qualify every action you ever did out of necessity or lay bare the fact that you were actually embarrassed by them. You don’t try to separate yourself from your choices by bringing up your past life or hard work. You simply loathe yourself for it.

Without your constant commands, Horse slows to a trot. You allow it, not wanting him to get hurt because of you. However, you soon regret your decision as you hear hooves charging up to you from behind.

You pull over to the side of the road, praying that whoever it was just passed you by. Of course, you had no such luck, the other horse slowing down next to you and Thenerius looking down at you with a concerned expression.

You say nothing and you don’t bother trying to outrun him, resigned to the fact that you wouldn’t be shaking him anytime soon.

“It wasn’t her fault,” he said once it was clear you weren’t speaking, drawing your sulking expression to point directly at him, “I pressured her to tell me where to find you.”

“Why are you still here?” You ask instead, exasperated and unwilling to have a conversation with him of all people about what happened between you and Lenora.

“I told you, my feelings for you haven’t changed,” Thenerius said as though it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Even if I allow you to stay, it would only be to use you,” you argue, “you could work for months and waste your time if I never change my mind. Doesn’t that make you angry?”

“No,” he replied, a warm smile adorning his face as he looked at you, “because you said if.”

You blink dumbly as he spurs his horse forward, leaving you to catch up.

part 3

#exophilia #monster boyfriend #reader insert #tiefling boyfriend #tiefling

110 notes · View notes

beecherdrysdale · 3 years

Text

Snow Day - Dylan Holloway

This is the first writing I’m posting on here so please send feedback! I had a snow day yesterday and that’s what inspired this so I projected my self kind of heavily on the character. Also, covid isn’t a thing in this.

Warnings: tiny bit of language

///

“Dyl, Dyl, wake up,” you say, shaking your boyfriend’s shoulder.

“What do you want?” he asks groggily. “Aren’t you supposed to be going to swim?”

“I can’t there’s too much snow,” you explain. “I can’t get the car out of the driveway, and the roads aren’t plowed yet. I do not want to drive in 2 feet of snow.”

“Well go back to sleep then, it’s 6 AM,” he tells you.

“Exactly, it’s 6 AM. I could’ve woken you up at 5 when I decided not to go to the pool, but I didn’t. I gave you an extra hour of sleep. Now get up so we can go shovel!”

“Why would you ever want to shovel?” he asks.

“Cuz it’s fun,” you say. “Besides we’ve barely gotten any snow at Wisco this year, so I want to take advantage of being in Canada.”

He just stares at you.

“Stop judging me,” you say after a second. “I don’t know what people have against shoveling. I genuinely think it’s fun. Now come on, I’ll make you food before we go outside.”

At that, he’s out of bed in an instant, grabbing a hoodie from his closet and pulling it over his head.

“What are you making? Can I help?” he asks as he follows you down the stairs.

“Waffles, and no. You remember what happened last time you tried to help,” comes your reply.

He gives you puppy dog eyes.

“Fine,” you sigh. “Go get the waffle mix and cocoa powder,” you add, pushing him toward the pantry while you pull out the other ingredients.

Shockingly, the two of you are able to make the waffles quickly and without any mishaps. As soon as they are made, you eat yours quickly and start cleaning the dishes as you wait for Dylan. When he’s finally done you put his stuff in the dishwasher and head toward the door. You put on your winter coat, because even you aren’t that stupid to go outside in just a hoodie when the temperature is below zero (Fahrenheit).

“Hey Dyl, do you happen to have an extra pair of boots?” you ask.

“Um, I don’t know, I can see if I can find my mom’s extra pair,” he offers.

“No, they definitely won’t fit me. If you don’t have an extra pair it’s fine, I guess I’ll just wear my Adidas,” you respond.

“Ohhh haha I thought you meant like an extra pair of women’s,” he says. “Yeah I do have an extra pair of my own. Hold on, let me go get them.” He returns and hands them to you, and when you pull them on they fit surprisingly well due to the thick fuzzy socks you’re wearing.

Finally, you guys are ready and you pull Dylan out into the snow with you and go grab shovels. You guys start to clear the driveway and by the time you are halfway done Dylan has stopped complaining, realizing that it’s really not that bad. You guys are almost done when you get an idea. When Dylan’s not looking, you reach down and grab a handful of snow, packing it into a firm ball. Then right as Dylan turns you throw it at him as hard as you can.

He looks you dead in the eye and says, “Oh, it’s on, Y/L/N,” and you take that as your cue to sprint away. You run into the backyard and quickly establish your position up on the deck, where you start making a pile of snowballs. Dylan comes into the back carrying his own pile of snowballs and looking for you, and you take his moment of confusion as an opportunity to pop up from behind the deck railing, which you had been hiding behind, and pelt him with snowballs.

“That’s six for me and none for you,” you inform him.

“You’re keeping score?” he asks.

“Of course,” is your reply. “It’s a snowball fight. First person to hit the other 50 times wins.”

“Ok, bet,” he says, thinking it will be an easy win for him.

“Bet,” you reply, hitting him once more. “And that makes it 7-0.”

You guys continue your fight, and after a few minutes Dylan realizes the only way he’s gonna hit you is if he joins you on the deck. He comes up and the two of you exchange snowballs before you escape down the stairs and out of his throwing range. He follows behind you, and then it’s just the two of you in the open air, a battle to see who can make and throw their snowballs faster. Dylan manages to pull ahead, but you don’t get to concerned. As soon as he takes a moment to catch his breath, you make a break towards the deck.

You establish your position up on the deck once again, and you pelt Dylan with snowballs as he tries to approach you, taking the lead back 49-47. Dylan realizes you only need one more to win, so he ducks down and hides, or so you think. What you don’t realize until it’s too late is that he is actually sneaking up the steps. You have no way to escape and no snowballs to throw, so you do the only thing you can think of. You jump off the side of the deck. It’s pretty high up, but you’re not gonna let Dylan hit you, not when you’re this close to victory. You land hard on your ankle, and when Dylan looks over the side of the deck you aren’t getting up.

“Babe, are you OK?” he asks. When you don’t respond immediately he adds, “Don’t stand up, I’m coming down.” As you hear him heading down the deck stairs you grab a handful of snow and form a snowball, and as soon as he rounds the corner and walks toward you you throw it at him, hitting him square in the chest and winning the fight.

“Wait you cheated? You faked an injury?” he pouts.

“First of all, no I didn’t cheat, you chose to come down here. And second, I actually did twist my ankle pretty bad. I just chose to use it to my advantage,” you reply.

“Oh shit, are you OK? Do you need me to get ice or something? Carry you inside?” he asks.

“No, I’m fine. I’ve injured myself way worse before. Help me up though?” you ask, holding your hands up to him. He pulls you up and you go inside together, putting away the shovels on the way like the responsible people you are.

When you get inside, Dylan’s mom is waiting for you with two mugs of hot chocolate. “Thanks Mrs. Holloway,” you say as you accept a mug from her.

“No, thank you,” she says. “I can never convince Dyl to shovel.”

“Well if you need me you know where to find me,” you respond laughing. You and Dylan finish your hot chocolate and then go to change into dry clothes.

Later that night, you and Dylan are laying on the couch with your head on his chest. “That wasn’t very nice of you to trick me earlier y’know,” Dylan says out of nowhere.

“Come on baby, it was a joke. Besides, I actually was injured,” you respond.

“Exactly, that was the worst part of it,” he explains. “I never want to see you hurt.”

“Aww thanks bub,” you say. “I hope you know I feel the same way.”

The two of you lapse back into silence and eventually Dylan puts a basketball game on the TV. When his mom walks in half an hour later, she finds the two of you in the same position, you asleep on his chest as he watches basketball and runs his fingers through your hair.

“Hey Dyl,” she starts. “I’m really happy you brought Y/N home for Christmas. She’s good for you. Try to keep her around OK?”

“That’s the plan Mom,” he replies. “I love her too much to fuck it up and lose her.”

#dylan holloway #wisco #team canada #dylan holloway imagine #dylan holloway x reader #dylan holloway fic

47 notes · View notes

let-it-raines · 4 years

Note

Prompt - David and Mary Margaret discover this great groupon deal for an autumn leaf changing tour and cabin rental in Vermont, but the catch, it's for 4 people. Enter in the reluctant best friends that can't stand each other. (And you know, the cabin only has 2 rooms)

🍁 found on ao3 | here | 🍁

-/-

Here’s the thing about Killian Jones: Emma doesn’t hate him.

She really, really doesn’t. Hate is a strong word that she saves for people like Neal and the asshole who took her parking spot and made her lose her skip and her bigger paycheck last week. It’s not a word she uses to describe her opinion of Killian Jones. That would be better described as mistrust or slight animosity or dislike. In the nicest of terms, it could be described as nonchalance and uncaring, maybe a little bit of annoyance, but those are only true when she hasn’t seen him for awhile and has forgotten how annoying he can be.

Right now, annoyance is the exact word she would use to describe her relationship with him, mostly because his appearance was unexpected and unwelcome.

A month ago, Mary Margaret called Emma and told her that she and David won a trip to Vermont for a weekend of walking trails to see the leaves changing. It included free lodging, free dinners, tickets to a farm where you could pick your own apples and pumpkins and sit at their restaurant on the lake and drink the cider brewed at that very farm. It sounded nice, like the plot and setting of a Hallmark movie Emma only watches when she’s at Mary Margaret’s loft, and Emma told Mary Margaret that she hoped they had a good time.

Then Mary Margaret told her the trip was actually for four people, invited Emma and their mutual friend Ruby, and Emma figured why not? Her job has been stressing her out lately, and it’s a free vacation. Who passes up a free vacation?

Ruby Lucas apparently does in order to go to help her grandmother with the catering of a last-minute wedding, and Emma didn’t know about that until she got in the back of David’s truck and saw Killian Jones sitting in the spot that was supposed to be Ruby’s.

She feels cheated.

This was supposed to be relaxing even if it was going to be spent watching David and Mary Margaret be overly affectionate with each other, and now she has to deal with Killian for an entire weekend.

That’s two days and twelve hours too long if she includes today…which she definitely is.

They’ve been in the truck for a little over three hours, which means they should be at the lodge soon, and Emma’s trying to focus on the scenery outside. It’s gorgeous, much more rural than what she’s used to living in the central part of Boston, and from what she’s heard of the lodge and the trails surrounding it, it’s only supposed to get better.

This is good. This can be a good weekend. Maybe she can go off on her own for most of it, and she won’t have to be with Killian or the lovebirds. They’ll be too busy getting lost in each other’s eyes, and he’ll be too busy flirting with every woman around. There’s definitely got to be opportunity for her to go off on her own.

If not, she might fling herself into a pile of leaves and never emerge for air.

And she’ll definitely blame it on Ruby for not telling Emma about her last-minute cancellation.

When they do eventually arrive at the lodge – after thirty minutes of Killian complaining about one of his coworkers – it turns out to look more like a small castle than anything else. It’s made of gray stone and covered in ivy and weeds while still being maintained. There’s a round fountain in front of the entryway, and behind the building, Emma can see the path that leads down to the lake and the hills that are full of trees behind it. Every tree is a different shade of red, orange, green, and yellow, and Emma has never wanted to take a picture of nature so much in her life. She’s about to live out the life of one of those girls on Instagram who only do things for the aesthetics, and for a weekend, she can’t say she minds.

What she does mind, however, is that when David hands her the key to her room, he hands Killian a key to the same room.

The same room as in her room.

Her. Room.

Hers.

“No.”

“Why are you saying no?” David asks, tilting his head in question.

“No, as in no I will not share a room. I thought I was getting my own room.”

“It’s a couple’s weekend, Emma, and I bet you would have been fine sharing a room with Ruby.”

“Yeah, because Ruby’s…”

“Ruby’s not me,” Killian interjects, wrapping his arm around Emma’s shoulder. She tries to shrug it off, but it doesn’t move anywhere. It’s deadweight up there, and Killian has unfortunately turned so he can’t see her death stare. Not that it would have any effect on him. “You see, Dave, it’s just that Emma is wildly attracted to me, and she doesn’t think she’ll be able to contain herself knowing I’m only a few feet away from her, especially when she discovers I sleep in the nude.”

“Oh my God.” Emma moves from underneath Killian’s arm, her strength coming back to her, and moves toward her – their, ugh – door. She turns the key, which is for some reason the old fashioned kind and not a card. “Please stop talking, Jones. I am not wildly attracted to you, and I can handle sharing a room. I’m not a child.”

“See, I knew the lass could do it.”

He winks at her and does this ridiculous eyebrow thing at David, and Emma is seriously considering paying thousands of dollars (she googled this place when they walked inside, and it is not cheap) for her own room.

“We’ll meet you guys in the lobby in thirty minutes, okay? We’re going on a tour of the grounds with our guide and then dinner, so dress for both.”

“When is the hike?” Emma asks, lingering in the doorway.

“Not until tomorrow. I’ll get Mary Margaret to send you the itinerary.”

“She already has. I just haven’t looked at it.”

“I’m not telling her that,” David laughs. “See you soon.”

Emma waves, smiling at David, and turns into the room, dragging her luggage behind her. It doesn’t take long before she’s stopped in her tracks, her sneakers snagging in the carpet, as Killian runs into her back.

“Bloody hell, why’d you stop like that?”

She opens her arm to the bed – singular – in front of them, which would look cozy and soft and all of the good things if she had it all to herself. “If you didn’t bring clothes to sleep in, you’re sleeping in your fucking jeans,” she mumbles before turning toward the bathroom and closing the door behind her.

This is fine.

This is all fine. Emma has been through a hell of a lot worse, and maybe Killian won’t be an ass. Maybe he’ll be the gentleman he always claims to be.

She’s never believed him for a second when he’s said shit like that.

Emma changes out of her leggings and sweatshirt into a pair of jeans and a thick sweater, grabbing her red plaid jacket and a beanie and placing them to the side for when she leaves. She puts on some mascara, a swipe of lipstick, and brushes out her hair. This is as good as it’s going to get, and she doesn’t mind that. Mary Margaret will tell her that tomorrow or whenever they go to the nice dinner that she’ll have to dress up, and Emma is giving herself a break on the makeup until then.

She had to pile it on every night this week for work, and her skin is screaming for a break.

Killian knocks on the door, telling her to hurry up because he has to get ready too, so she takes five extra minutes…out of spite…because she knows it’s just petty enough for it to rub him the wrong way. She doesn’t feel bad about it either. Killian would do the same damn thing.

“You look nice,” Killian tells her when she opens the bathroom door and he’s standing on the wall opposite the bathroom, leg propped up and arms crossed over his chest. His eyes trail up and down her body, and Emma moves out of the doorway. A shiver runs down her spine, but she ignores it.

Definitely, definitely ignores it.

It’s cold up in Vermont, even colder than in Boston, and these old walls aren’t helping.

Killian takes approximately two minutes to get ready, all of which is probably spent getting into ridiculously tight jeans, and then they’re begrudgingly walking to the lobby where David and Mary Margaret are waiting for them already talking to the guide, a peppy woman named Anna who is like the redheaded version of Mary Margaret when Mary Margaret is in one of her “everything is a fairytale” moods.

Anna takes them throughout the property, giving them the history of the place while offering up different amenities that are not included with the package they won but still accessible if they’re willing to pay. There’s a spa, a gym, three different hiking trails, an option to take row boats out on the lake if the weather is nice, and there are two different restaurants on the property. They also offer drivers to several places around town, including the grocery store and the farm they’ll be visiting tomorrow after their hike, and Emma is sure several other things are said. She zones out about halfway through, distracted by the view of the trees and how they’re reflected on the lake. Everything is in an orange glow right now, one that brings comfort to Emma.

She’s always liked sunsets. It’s cheesy and she’d never admit it out loud, but she likes the predictability of them. They don’t always look the same, but they happen every day, even if she can’t see it. She likes that, having that constant. It’s not something she has a lot of, constants that is, and she takes every one she can get.

Maybe this weekend won’t be so bad.

If she says that enough, she just might believe it.

-/-

Dinner is nice.

The food is good, the wine surprisingly good since she was pretty sure it was going to be some funky homemade stuff, and even more surprisingly, the company is great.

When she thinks that, she wonders if the alcohol content in the wine was higher than the server said it was.

All the good thoughts about Killian go away, however, when they’re back in their (still so awful to have to think) hotel room, and Emma is awkwardly sitting on the edge of the bed rubbing lotion on her arms. Killian, thank goodness, is in a pair of plaid pajama pants and a t-shirt, so he’s not even going to attempt to sleep naked.

She was 100% sure that he would try, and she’s honestly kind of sad she won’t get a chance to slap him.

On the cheek.

On his face.

She doesn’t want to slap him anywhere else.

Okay, that wine’s alcohol content was definitely higher than it should have been.

Killian plops down on the bed, the mattress shaking beneath him, and tugs the covers over him. His movements jostle her, and she grits her teeth as she finishes moisturizing. He turns on the TV, puts it on some show she has never heard of, and Emma tries to keep calm. She’s tired. She’s going to fall asleep quickly, and the TV won’t bother her. She falls asleep every night with the TV on, so this is nothing new.

Emma turns down the corner of the bed on her side and slides underneath before flipping the switch for the light. The room darkens except for the TV and the glow of the alarm clock, and Emma closes her eyes. They’ve got a lot to do tomorrow, and she doesn’t want to be walking around wishing she had an IV of coffee to keep her awake.

Slowly, sleep comes for her, tugging at the corners of her eyes, and just as she’s about to succumb to it, the comforter is tugged off of her, leaving her foot exposed to the cold air of the room.

What the hell?

Emma tugs it back, shifting her leg to have it covered, and for a moment, she’s warm. Warm and cozy and not even the too loud laugh track on the TV is disturbing her.

The fact that Killian pulls away the comforter again is, however, disturbing her.

Actually, it really freaking annoys her, so she pulls it back. Hard this time, and Killian grunts in response and rolls over. she feels his foot brush against her calf, and she kicks out, moving him back to his side. It’s only a queen-sized bed, so there’s not a lot of room for them to stay separate. She’s about three seconds away from finding pillows or their suitcases and putting them in between the two of them so he stops encroaching on her space.

And taking her comforter.

Because it’s definitely hers. Just like this room was supposed to be.

Killian wasn’t even supposed to be on this trip. It was supposed to be Ruby, who definitely would have stayed on her side of the bed. Better yet, she probably would have met someone and would be staying with them, and Emma would have this entire bed to herself.

It’s so comfortable that it’s a shame she has to share it. She’s not used to that anymore, and she likes to stretch out.

The comforter moves again, and Emma grips onto it, holding it where she is and tucking it underneath her ass to keep it as steady as possible. At this point, he has to be doing it to annoy her, and Emma is not going to lose this battle.

She’ll stay up all night if she has to.

“You know, Swan,” Killian mumbles, “normally I prefer to do more enjoyable activities with a woman on her back than fight over the covers.”

Emma groans and rolls over on her stomach, pointedly kicking out at him. “Shut up, Jones.”

“If that’s what the lady wishes.”

Emma mutters into her pillow, and for a few minutes, as the blanket stealing calms down and the TV quiets, Emma wonders if she could feasibly fake some sleeping disorder that has her punching Killian in the face all night.

She can be a pretty good actress sometimes. She could probably pull it off.

She doesn’t do that, though, because she eventually falls asleep, one foot sticking out into the cold air.

Damn you, Jones.

-/-

There’s a warm body nears hers.

That’s the first thought Emma has when she wakes up – after thinking of how annoying her alarm sound is. The body warm and solid and a little hairy, and it takes her two seconds to remember where she is and who she’s sharing a bed with. She knew she should have slept on the floor last night because in no world does she want to have her leg pressing up against Killian’s leg and her ass…

“Oh my God,” she murmurs, eyes blowing wide as she turns and moves her body as much as she can. “Oh my God, oh my God, oh my Goooooooood.”

“What are you yelling about?” Killian groans, shifting behind her, which only makes it worse.

“I’m not yelling,” Emma hisses. She pushes away and sits up, and there’s no need to even adjust the comforter because none of it is on her. “What are you doing near me?”

He raises his brow, wrinkles on his forehead popping up. Getting a look at him now, she knows the ruffled look he sometimes does with his hair is natural, and for some reason, that really freaking annoys her.

“I was sleeping until you decided to have a conniption.”

“Yeah, well that’s because your dick…oh shit.”

Emma wasn’t going to say that. She really wasn’t, and from the way Killian’s brow is arching higher, she knows that she’s messed up. She’s given him the perfect set up for all of his innuendos, and knowing him, she’s never going to be allowed to live this down.

What a great start to her morning.

“Usually that’s not the reaction, but I understand your shock, love. You weren’t prepared, and it’s, well, a lot to take in.”

“Oh my God, shut up.” She takes the pillow from behind her and smacks him with it as he laughs. He’s getting far too much enjoyment out of this, and she’s wondering how long she would be in jail if she smothered him. “I’m going to take a shower.”

“Make it cold and bracing. I think you might need it.”

“Yeah, I’m not the one with morning wood, but you keep thinking that.” She gets off the mattress and reaches down for her bag. Killian may have unpacked his stuff, but she didn’t bother to do that, even if it means everything is wrinkled. “Please don’t take care of it while I’m showering. That’s just…we have to share the bed, Jones, and I’ve worked in hotels before. I know they don’t always change the sheets.”

He mock salutes, the cheekiest grin on his face, and this is really going to be a long day.

-/-

It’s a long day.

Before she can even get coffee in her, she’s dragged out to the hiking trail. The sun hasn’t fully risen, and they’re supposed to be watching the sunrise and how it matches up with all the changing trees. It’s beautiful. She knows it is, and she does manage to take some pictures that she’s sure capture about half of the beauty. The thing is that despite her best efforts, she didn’t sleep well, and she’s only running on adrenaline and annoyance.

Mostly at Killian.

He’s been staring at her all morning, a joke on the tip of his tongue about their morning, and he’s started to make them several times before Emma shoots him a look or elbows him in the stomach. Mary Margaret has given Emma several funny looks, and if she wasn’t so wrapped up in David and the romance of the changing leaves and the sunrise, she’d probably ask about it.

Mary Margaret is not one for subtlety or staying out of someone else’s business.

David guides them over the trail, which is somehow all uphill despite no discernible incline, and eventually the come to a perch with a few of the lake and the lodge, miles of trees surrounding it. Emma doesn’t think she’s ever seen anything quite like it, and now she can truly see why so many people travel here just to stare at some trees.

“It’s something isn’t it, Swan?” Killian asks as he walks up behind her, the heat of his body making the chill of the air fade for a moment.

“Yeah, it’s beautiful.”

“I didn’t think looking at trees would be your thing. I don’t take you as much of a nature person.”

Emma turns to face him and crosses her arms over her chest. “You don’t know me well enough to know if I’m a nature person or not.”

He steps closer, invading her space like he always does, and maybe she’s a bit of a liar when she says he doesn’t know her. “Just who are you then, Swan?”

Emma cocks her head and straightens her back, not letting him overwhelm her. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

He smiles and nods, lashes fluttering until his eyes are hooded. “Perhaps I would.”

“We better get moving if we want to make it to the apple orchard on time,” David tells them, making Emma jump away from Killian and smooth down her flannel over her stomach. “You okay? You look flushed.”

“Just the walk,” Emma lies. “I’m sure that’s all.”

-/-

“I will throw this apple at your head.”

“I don’t believe you.”

Emma groans, audibly, and plucks another apple from the tree and puts it in her basket. It’s getting a little heavy, and not in a million years could she eat all these apples before they spoil. They’re not for her, though. They’re for the farm and its cider and pies and tarts and all the other apple goods they make. She must admit that it’s a brilliant business plan, having people pick the apples for you and then make them pay for it and the food and drinks.

She can’t believe people actually pay to do this. The hike, she gets, foraging for your own food, not so much.

Emma picks an apple out of her basket, one that kind of looks gross and a little squished, and she tosses it at the back of Killian’s head. It hits, just barely, and she stops as he reaches up to touch his hair.

“What is wrong with you?” he hisses, turning around to glare at her.

“You’re the one who has spent the last ten minutes being invasive to my personal life, so what’s wrong with you?”

“Asking if you were still seeing Graham Humbert is not invasive.”

“It is definitely invasive.”

Killian’s shoulders shrug, and he steps closer to her. Really close, actually. He does this obnoxious thing where he’s always encroaching on her space when he speaks, swaying closer and dipping his head down until their eyes are level. He’s doing that now, obnoxious, downright cocky grin gracing his lips, and Emma backs away, dodging some low-hanging apples, until her back is against the tree and she’s putting her basket on the ground. She really hopes there aren’t ants crawling all over her, but at this point, she’s too distracted to care.

For every inch that she moved, Killian matched her. And now, he’s more in her space than ever, the heat of his body warming her more than her jacket. How is he that damn hot?

Only in the temperature sense…not in the other way. She is obviously still a little tipsy from the wine last night that she still maintains had a higher alcohol content than usual.

He chuckles, and his eyes look at her before glancing down at her lips. It’s not even a quick glance. It’s pointed, and Emma knows she was meant to notice it.

“Please,” Emma huffs, “you couldn’t handle it.”

He doesn’t even flinch. “Perhaps you’re the one who couldn’t handle it.”

She wants to say something back, some smart, snide remark that will make him frustrated, but she also wants to prove him wrong. Emma doesn’t care what anyone else has to say, and she’s heard all the rumors. Kissing Killian Jones is not going to have an effect on her.

So she grabs the lapels of his coat and pulls him forward until his mouth is on hers and Emma’s head is pressing into the back of the tree. The bark scratching the back of her neck would be uncomfortable if she wasn’t so focused on Killian. He’s not kissing her back, his lips rigid against her, and she’s just about to pull back and give him shit over being a horrible kisser when he moves. His hand comes to her hair, yanking on the strands as he tilts her head the way he wants it, and his prosthetic rests at her waist. Every thought she had about him being stiff was wrong.

She’s never felt anyone move like this.

She’s also had some pretty damn good kisses in her life, but she can’t remember the last time one took her breath away and made heat curl over her skin as soft lips moved over her and slightly rough stubble scratched against her skin, likely leaving her red.

Emma can’t remember the last time she was kissed well, and damn, what a shame that is.

She could get used to that.

But she knows that’s a dangerous thought, and this is a dangerous game she’s playing. If she’s bringing cards to the table to play, she has to be open to the possibility that she can lose her hand.

Emma isn’t open to that right now.

So, she pulls back, just barely though, and tries to catch her breath as Killian does the same. He’s panting, and in any other circumstance, the sound would be like heaven to her, a strong indication of what’s to come next. Not in this one, though, and when Killian moves in, she pulls away.

“That was,” he begins, seemingly trailing off in a search for the words to describe what just happened.

She doesn’t know either, but it doesn’t take her long to figure out what she wants to say.

“A one-time thing,” she finishes, knowing she has to say it as she looks at him and the flush of his cheeks. “I’m going to find David and Mary Margaret. Don’t follow me. Wait five minutes and...” she glances down toward his jeans “…calm down.”

He mockingly bows, same smug smile she’s used to back on his lips. She knows how they feel now, and that feels wrong.

“As you wish, milady.”

-/-

The late afternoon lunch (or is it early dinner considering the time?) is awkward as hell. They’re sitting at a small, supposedly cozy table in the midst of the most romantic patio ever created (think of all the string lights in the world and then double it) with wine and cider in their glasses and good food on the table in front of them.

Emma wants to run away.

She can’t.

It really freaking sucks.

And it doesn’t help that Killian keeps looking at her with these big blue eyes that she doesn’t normally see. He looks earnest almost, and she doesn’t think Killian Jones has been earnest a day in his life.

Then again, how much does she know?

“Oh, this is so romantic,” Mary Margaret sighs. “I’m so glad we won this trip.”

“Does romance include two of your mates sitting at the table with you?” Killian asks. “Dave was playing footsy with me earlier we’re so cramped in here.”

“Was that you?” David hisses, cheeks going red, and Emma starts to laugh. That’s the best thing she’s heard all day.

“Yes, it is romantic even with you and Emma here. And with David somehow mistaking your leg with mine.”

“In my defense, Killian’s calves are only a little bigger than yours, sweetheart.”

“I’m not sure whether to be flattered or insulted.”

“Flattered, of course,” Killian says. “I have bloody fantastic legs. Ask Swan here. She felt them up last night.”

Emma kicks out her foot at Killian under the table, not one hundred percent sure she’s actually hitting his leg, but then she sees the slight wince. Gotcha.

“So, what are we doing after this?” Emma asks to change the subject. “Another hike? More apple picking? Second dinner?”

Mary Margaret sighs, “a carriage ride back to the hotel, but they’re going to take us the scenic route.”

“Of course they are,” Emma mutters, stabbing her food and stuffing it into her mouth. She’s going to need more wine.

-/-

The carriage ride is worse than the dinner. For one, the horses smell horrible, much worse than the food, and the carriage is somehow smaller than their table. She’s pressed completely up against Killian, their sides aligned, and he has his arm over her shoulder while they share a blanket. She tried to refuse, but it’s gotten really cold. Her nose and her fingers are going to fall off soon, and she’s as zipped up as she can be.

David and Mary Margaret practically make out across from them, and even though Emma knows more about their sex life than she would ever want to know, sitting his close to it as a horse drags them along the road is not something she’s comfortable with.

“Make it stop,” she murmurs into Killian’s shoulder, half to keep her from having to look at David and Mary Margaret but mostly to keep her nose warm.

“I’m afraid we have to ride this one out, love. If you want, we could share our own kiss…again.”

She hits his thigh underneath the blanket. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Whatever helps you sleep through the night.”

-/-

She doesn’t sleep through the night.

She’s too aware of her surroundings, of the warm body a few inches from her own.

It’s all too much, even if he didn’t try to steal the covers tonight, and if she wasn’t so damn stubborn, she’d sleep on the floor. She told herself she would do that tonight, but now it feels like admitting defeat.

Emma doesn’t like to admit defeat.

-/-

They go for another hike the next morning, their last morning in Vermont.

Emma sticks next to David the entire time, asking him mundane questions she doesn’t care about just to keep the conversation flowing and to keep Killian from making any jokes she doesn’t want him to make. It works, mostly, and Emma is even able to enjoy herself and the view for a lot of it. Boston can be gorgeous, but she’s going to miss a lot of this.

It’s the picture perfect dream, but Emma knows perfection doesn’t exist. And in pictures, it’s almost always photoshopped.

Doesn’t make it any less stunning as she stares out at it all, and it doesn’t make her want the picture perfect dream any less. The one where she isn’t so scared of getting hurt again and where she lets herself have fun, lets herself feel safe.

Lets her heart in on the decision making with her head.

-/-

Emma sleeps on most of the car ride back to Boston, and when she wakes up, it’s with a sore neck and tired eyes. It’s also in front of her apartment. She thanks the Nolans for the weekend, and very slowly, it dawns on her that Killian is no longer in the car. They must have dropped him off first, and she doesn’t know why, but it stings a bit that she doesn’t get to say goodbye to him as well.

That’s the lack of sleep talking, obviously.

Emma would never miss saying goodbye to Killian because that would mean she was going to miss his presence. She wouldn’t do that, though. Of course not. Because she didn’t have a good time when he was around. He didn’t make her smile at all this weekend.

He never makes her smile at all.

If Emma was using her own superpower to detect lies, there would be a blaring red light over her head with a little bell blaring in her ears.

She is ignoring it in favor of stuffing everything about this weekend in her bag and not looking into it. It was pretty. Nice pictures were taken, good food was had, and nothing else happened.

(Ding, ding, ding.)

-/-

Life returns to normal. She goes to work, goes to the gym, is occasionally dragged out to bars and clubs with her friends on the nights she isn’t working.

(She does finally get that guy from two weeks ago, and the paycheck is worth the struggle.)

Killian is around a lot more than he usually is. He’s in school getting his degree in software engineering on some scholarship he got from his service in the Navy, and he usually bartends at night. That job fizzled out, though, so when they all have pizza night or go out or meet up for lunch, he’s usually there.

Emma finds it odd, but she doesn’t mind.

She doesn’t pay much attention to him because she’s making a conscious effort specifically not to pay attention to him, not until he misses a fantastic opportunity to make an innuendo, and she realizes he hasn’t been making a lot of those lately. They’re there, sure, but not in as high of a quantity as they usually are.

It’s weird, but the weirdest thing about it all is how much she misses them.

Huh.

When did that happen?

When did the flirting stop annoying her and start making her laugh? When did she start liking it?

Liking him?

The thought comes to her without true warning and without permission. It’s wiggled its way out of the deep caverns of her mind and made it to the surface, gasping for air so it can live out in the open. She has a physical reaction to it, her hands coming to cover her mouth as she inhales a deep breath that has everyone looking away from the TV to look at her.

“You alright?” Ruby asks from her spot on David and Mary Margaret’s couch.

“I’m fine,” Emma lies, knowing her friends won’t push her further. They’ve known her long enough to know not to do that too often. “Just need some water.”

She gets up from her chair and walks toward the kitchen, her mind running faster than Usain Bolt, and she tries to focus on pouring herself a glass of water and on the football game that’s on. She doesn’t even really like football, but it’s kind of a fall tradition around here. She just has to go with it.

Everything is fine. This is fine.

This is…this is crazy. It’s even crazier that she can’t tell if her body is experience fear, joy, or some insane mixture of both bottled up with all of the adrenaline it can muster.

“You sure you’re alright, love?” Killian asks as he walks into the kitchen puts his plate in the sink. Of course he followed her in here. He, unlike Ruby, Mary Margaret, and David, has no qualms about bothering her. “You look a bit flushed. You’ve gone red around your cheeks.”

“Fine,” she lies again. “I’m fine.”

If she says that word enough, it’ll be true.

“Are you certain because I – ”

“Why don’t you flirt with me anymore?” she blurts before she can stop herself. She must be going crazy because this is insane. Who has taken over her body, and can she get it back please? Preferably before she does something stupid like kissing him again.

Then again, that wasn’t all stupid. It felt pretty damn good.

Killian arches his brow, his forehead wrinkling, and she knows she’s about to get some dumbass answer. He scratches behind his ear with his prosthetic. “Because if I’m to win your heart Emma, as I’d like to, I’d like to do it in a way that doesn’t piss you off, as much as I do love that. It’s quite entertaining for me, especially when you go red as you are now. It’s a becoming color on you, but I realize my methods of getting your attention were a bit childish.”

Well, okay then. Maybe not a dumbass answer.

This is a weird, weird few minutes.

“Are you trying to tell me you’ve been doing the adult equivalent of pulling pigtails on a playground?’

He shrugs. “Aye, I guess.”

Emma, once more, doesn’t know what to do or say, so she lets instinct drive her. She steps forward and places her hand on his shoulder, looking him dead in the eye. They’re ridiculously blue, and it’s just not fair. “Asking me to dinner would have worked much better than that. Food has always been the way to my heart, especially if it’s cheap, greasy, and will make my stomach hurt afterward.”

She leaves the ball in his court (or in his possession on the field since they’re watching football and her sports metaphors should make sense, and she’s 82% sure that’s a correct metaphor), and walks away before being pulled back by her wrist until she’s looking at him again.

Once more, he’s earnest, and she’s still getting used to that.

And those blue eyes. Those too. They don’t have to be all devilish all the time.

“Would you like to go to dinner with me, love?” Killian asks, hopeful, kind smile on his face.

Genuine. He’s genuine, and she feels that little flutter that she hasn’t felt in awhile, not since she kissed him against the apple tree to prove a point to herself that she wouldn’t be affected by kissing him.

Emma really is a bad liar, especially when she’s lying to herself.

“I thought you’d never ask.”

#leaves are changing (and maybe he is too)#cs prompts #cs fic #cs ff #cs fanfic #cs fanfiction #captain swan fic #captain swan ff #captain swan fanfic #captain swan fanfiction #captain swan #wellhellotragic

106 notes · View notes

random-imagines-blog · 4 years

Text

Let Her Go {Emma Frost x Reader}

Requested by: Anonymous Wordcount: 3294 Summary: After getting rejected by someone you thought you loved, you do eventually find all you’re looking for. Song inspiration: Rhapsody in Blue - Gershwin (x)

The music coming from your room did not have a source that most people expected. You had no radio, no record player, and definitely no tape cassette. Nor did you have a television that might have produced the sound. Rather, it was coming from your very pores, the emotions that you were feeling. Manifesting sounds and music was your power, though it was not a very useful one unless the disco was growing dull or you needed to get someone’s attention quickly. Rhapsody in Blue was loud, expressing your emotion to the other ladies in the boarding house that you were living in temporarily. You had your window open, the curtain was fluttering outside of it, having been drawn out by the breeze, and you sat next to it, enjoying the sunshine on your face. It was the first time that you had enjoyed anything in the last month. Since you left your teaching position at Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters.

You sighed as you saw a redhead walking down the street with her dog. Even the flash of that hair color was enough to bring you back to your slump, the song skipping to one of the piano solos to match her steps. You had gotten away from the school so you wouldn’t think of Jean Grey anymore, but everything brought back memories. Damn, how you missed the excitement of the school, and the missions that you were brought on.

You turned away from the window, having seen enough people for the day. Your eyes went towards the empty bottle of vodka that sat near your door, ready to act as a doorstop since the glass was heavy enough. You had promised yourself only one bottle during this hard time. Rejection was tough to deal with, especially from someone you thought perhaps would be your soulmate. Just one bottle, any more would be excessive. Just merely one bottle.

The jazz surrounded you like a hug. If you were in a better mood, you might even dance to it. Instead, you sat alone, traumatized at the idea of being close to another human. It was nearly enough to make you cry.

The air around you grew heavy, like something big was about to happen. You resisted the shudder that went up your spine, and the shiver that threatened to overtake you. You think you’d be used to this by now. There was a knock at the door, and a beautiful, tall and leggy blonde walked in, closing the door behind her. It was her that brought the feeling with her everywhere that she went.

“I don’t need to read your mind to tell how miserable you are,” She said, tossing her bag onto the flowery comforter that covered your bed. She was a vision in white; nearly blindingly so. “Why is it so hot in here all the time? I feel like I’m going to melt.”

Emma Frost, everybody. The person who has been keeping you sane since the whole fiasco. Since you foolishly thought that Jean Grey might be your soulmate and you confessed your love to her, only to be rejected. The only person who didn’t whisper about you behind your back. Or, at least, you haven’t caught her doing it anyway.

“Because I don’t pay enough for air conditioning,” You said, pointing towards the open window, where the breeze was your only source of air. “I mean, if you want to go into my landlady’s mind and convince her to put some units in, I’d be highly grateful.”

“I might,” She said, sitting on the edge of your bed. Her one leg crossed over the other, as cool as a cucumber. “Or you can just come stay with me. I told you - I have the room.”

She had to talk a little bit higher as the music kept floating through you. You kept your mind focused on the clarinet, the piano, the grooves of the song. Because if you didn’t, there was a chance that it might go to something inappropriate.

“And have to deal with this all the time?” You said, meaning the music coming off of you. “You can barely handle it when I’m in a mediocre mood. And don’t even get me started on what I actually sound like in the shower.”

Emma chuckled, going through her purse for her frosty-pink lipgloss and applied it slowly without a mirror. How she made everything look so effortless, you could not understand. “Honey, I always make sure I know what I’m getting into before I make an offer. Especially one that breaks my rule of not getting too close to people. But you need a place with privacy. Your neighbors are sick of your crying at night.”

“Did they tell you that, or are they just thinking it?”

Emma just gave me a knowing look with her big baby blues. You sighed, figuring that it was the latter since they were all too polite to actually complain.

“I can afford this place, you know? Being independent, it feels nice,” You said, wishing you were even able of convincing yourself of that fact. Of course, Emma didn’t buy it.

“You quit your job, and you’re living off of your very meagre savings. And all you do is stare out that tiny little window, trying to see if you can spot her when she comes to town. Y/N, you can do better than that. If you’re really that bothered, you can pay rent at my place. I know how good it feels to be able to give yourself a second chance, and I want to help you with yours. Come on, don’t make me pressure you.”

You knew that she could be in your head and hating where you are within a second. You looked around the dreary room with it’s fake-cheery yellow wallpaper, the window that only opened halfway up, the gingham curtains, the flower bedspread. None of this was actually yours. The only things that were happened to be the clothes that were still in your suitcase. The fact that you haven’t unpacked spoke volumes.

“I hate when you make a point, you know that?”

You found a job close by to where Emma lived. It wasn’t as cushy a job as working at Xavier’s school, but you couldn’t claim that you were in love with any of your co-workers which was a nice change. And admittedly, living with Emma was the best decision that you had ever made.

When you came home after dark, Emma was there with take-out, since neither of you were really the cooking kinda people. She was much too busy and glamorous, while you - you were honestly just a bit lazy after working all day. The only downside was that sometimes her long, blonde hairs could be found on your clothing, since she shed like a damn sheepdog. You teased her about being able to make voodoo dolls of her, and there’s nothing her powers could do about it, which was just enough to get an actual emotion out of her, rather than her perfect expressionless face.

You started noticing more and more about your friend as you spent an increasing amount of time with her. She wore white as if it were going out of style; and it probably was because nobody rocked it as well as she did. You noticed how she shunned most human contact, but stayed close to you. Your pinkie fingers were side by side as you both rested on the couch, watching a movie on her television screen. You noticed that she didn’t use her telepathic ability on you, despite having ample opportunity. She actually took the time to ask your thoughts, or what you wanted. She didn’t invade.

“You look like you’re thinking about something,” Emma said, walking into the room, her white heeled boots clicking against the wooden floors. “It’s not that ginger again, is it?”

“No, actually, I’ve barely thought about her in days,” You admitted. Emma raised an eyebrow, then joined you on the couch, waiting for you to continue to speaking. “I think that what you said when I told you I was leaving the school was right. That it was just an infatuation from seeing her everyday. A crush that I blew out of proportion. So ... thank you. I might not have been able to see reason if it wasn’t for you.”

��Hmm-” The corner of Emma’s lips went up into a half-smile. “You’re welcome. Any other crushes that you want me to ruin for you while I’m at it? That one woman you work with is rather cute. Workplace cute, not model cute, obviously but-”

“No, no, I’m okay,” You said, laughing. It felt so good to laugh again. You were becoming yourself once more, but a stronger version. A more aware version. “How come it’s always about my crushes? You never tell me about yours. Come on, you worked with some pretty attractive people, even if some of them were villains.”

“You think so?” Emma asked, raising an eyebrow. She reached past you to the table where your cup of tea was sitting on a saucer, and helped herself to a sip. “None of them were quite my type.”

“Oh,” You said, a little surprised. “Well, what is your type?”

You didn’t even mind that she was drinking your tea. You were just so curious about why she never opened up about her own love life, and intrigued that she was doing it now.

“Oh, I don’t know. There is one person but ... it would never happen so I’ve decided to stop entertaining the thought.”

“Are they married or something? Because believe me, anyone that would turn you down is a fool. I’ve been living with you for a while now and you haven’t annoyed me yet, that’s a very good sign.”

Emma stayed silent as she thought, and as you watched, she tapped her fingers against the teacup. For once, you wished that you were the telepath so you could figure out what was so hard for her to say aloud.

“Oh come on,” You said, nudging her with your elbow. “Whoever it is, you can tell me. I swear I won’t even tease you for it. Unless it’s Logan, because that man has so much body hair it’s disgusting.”

Emma started to laugh at that, and put the teacup back down on the saucer. “Oh, honey, no,” She shook her head between giggles. “Definitely not Logan.”

“Then it can’t be that bad. Come on....” You bothered and bothered until you knew that you would get her way.

“Fine!” She said, throwing her hands up into the air. “Do you really want to know that bad?” You nodded enthusiastically. You’ve never seen her so nervous about admitting something before. This was not the witty and calm Emma Frost that you knew well. “My type is you, exactly you,” She said, dryly, reaching for the tea cup again but you stopped her by grabbing onto her wrist gently.

“I’m not laughing, if you hadn’t noticed,” You said, turning even more to face her. You let go of her, but she didn’t reach for the tea again. She was just reaching for it as a distraction, something to keep her hands busy as you both processed what had just been said.

“Yeah, I noticed.” Emma said, putting her hands on the knees over her immaculate dress. “But you’re not doing much of anything at the moment, are you?”

“I’m thinking,” You said, crossing your arms in front of you. “What was it you said - infatuation because we see each other every day?”

“I would think that was it, if I hadn’t had feelings for you for about a year before you moved in.” She sighed, uncrossing her legs and just crossed them the other way. “It’s fine, y/n, you’ve been through a lot. That’s why I wasn’t going to say anything. I know you’re not unbreakable and made of diamond, like me.”

“Yeah, well,” You said, trying desperately to think of something to say. “Can your diamond skin do this?”

You focused on the song ‘Diamonds are a Girl’s Best Friend’ in your head, and it flowed out of you just as easily as if it were a blink or a breath. Marilyn Monroe’s sweet and sultry voice filled the living room, tuning out the television program that was on Emma’s tv. She stared at you, not saying anything until the actual line of ‘Diamonds are a Girl’s Best Friend’ was sung.

“No, I can’t do that,” She said, getting onto her feet. “But thank you for telling me through song how you feel.”

You realized the connotations of the song, and how Emma had taken it. She was your best friend, but you had essentially just showed her that it was all that she could be. “Can you just wait a second please?” You said, jumping up yourself. “I’m still not laughing, and I’m not ... not upset about it either.”

Emma stopped in her doorframe, leaning against it. How did she make every motion look so graceful? “Good to see you don’t hate me,” She stated.

“I could never, Em!” You protested at the very thought. “How could I ever hate you? You’ve given me everything - my life back, most importantly. I just ... I’m not good at the emotions thing as we both clearly just found out. And I don’t want anything to ever come between us...”

“So nothing is changing despite my big admission, pour the champagne,” Emma said, clearly dripping in sarcasm. “Goddamnit, let me think for a second, alright?” You said, collapsing back on the couch, running your fingers against your scalp in frustration. “This does change things. A lot of things. I just never thought that someone like you would ever like someone like me. You’re so... perfect.”

“But not perfect enough for you to consider,” Emma said, her voice loaded with lack of emotion, which was an emotion in itself. You knew what that tone had meant. That was how you spoke to Jean after she rejected you. How you spoke to everyone, actually. Hiding your emotions was a way to protect yourself.

“Don’t think that way, you know that I care about you,” You pleaded.

“I know,” Emma said, moving a blonde hair out of her face with a quick movement of her head. “I’m not letting it affect anything. If it changes how we are, that’s on you.”

You took a couple of days to think about things. Emma had gone off on a mission of some sort, and you laid around the penthouse apartment, doing next to nothing but worrying about her. Yes, she was made of diamonds when she wanted to be. And yes, she was a telepath and could anticipate any move against her. But that didn’t sooth your mind much. Becoming so close to her over the last couple of weeks and then having the threat of losing her - it put things into perspective.

You jumped up when you heard the door open, reaching for something that could be used as protection. You settled on a lamp, not realizing that it would probably cost you a month’s salary to replace it if you actually broke it.

The room was dark, and you could just see a form moving near the front door. The burglar was being bold, if that’s what it was. You held the lamp up and were about to bring it down on the burglar when the light turned on and revealed it to actually be the person you had been worrying about all this time.

“A lamp, really?” Emma asked, lightly taking the lamp from your hands as you paused to take the sight of her in. “A frying pan would probably be better.”

“I -” You started to stutter before realizing you weren’t even sure what it was you wanted to say. You dropped your arms to your sides, feeling like a sullen child. “I missed you.”

“Did you?” Her tone was cool and collected, as always. “You almost didn’t.” She set the lamp down on the closest table, letting the cord dangle off for now. Her last name suited her well. She felt chilly to the bone tonight.

“I would have kissed it better,” You said, feeling warm enough for the both of you as you admitted that. She arched an eyebrow in your direction, then walked towards the kitchen. You followed her, as silent as you could muster, though you were letting off some sounds without meaning to. Rhapsody in Blue. Always that song.

“And what changed while I was gone?” She asked, pouring herself a large glass of water, and swallowed it down. She looked tired, not as put together as usual. But her attitude didn’t differ from before.

“I had lots of time to think,” You muttered, with her barely able to hear you over the clarinet. “I did miss you. And I worried about you the whole time, even though I know that you had it under control. You always do.”

“That’s the grand conclusion that you came up with? That I’m clearly a badass?” She said, turning the cup around in her hands. You felt your mouth go dry.

“Well, not really - I’ve known that for a long time. The conclusion that I came to, in your words, is that I’d kind of like to change our friendship. Into something more than a friendship.” The song rose into a crescendo, your hopeful feelings taking on a musical charge. You could feel electricity in the air. The hairs on your arm were sticking up. “It took me a lot of time to let Jean go, and then even more for me to make sure that how I feel about you isn’t just ... a rebound. It’s not, I’m positive.”

“Took you long enough,” Emma said with a smirk. “I’ve been able to read you easier than a book, y/n. That’s why I confessed to you when I did. Because I knew that you felt the same way and needed a nudge to say it.” She put the glass into the sink, then approached you. She took your face between her hands, so you were forced to look into her beautiful, blue eyes. “Though I have to ask, why is it always this song?”

“What do you mean?” You asked, leaning more into her hands, craving the touch to be stronger.

“When you dream of me, you play this song. So what’s so special about it?” She questioned you, giving you what you needed by coming even closer, your face still at the mercy of her hands.

“I do?” You asked, suddenly concerned at what other music you might have exuded in your sleep. “I suppose it’s because it covers everything I feel about you. Happiness, hope, anxiety at times.”

“You’re an odd one,” Emma said, letting go of you. You felt colder without her, but she took your hand instead. “Come, sleep with me tonight, play it as my lullaby.”

“If that’s what you really want,” You said, going with her extremely willingly.

#Emma Frost #Emma Frost x reader #Emma Frost oneshot #XMen #XMen oneshot #Marvel #Marvel oneshot #oneshot #request #emmaf

72 notes · View notes

baka-monarch · 4 years

Text

It’s A Small World Chapter 2: Protecting His Honor

Summary: Virgil has a plan to catch Roman being a bad person, but instead finds some feelings he thought disappeared after ninth grade...

TRIGGER WARNINGS: CUSSING, ANXIETY ATTACK

Prologue Chapter 1

“It’s been three days Patt! Three days!!!” Virgil was in a video call with his brother as he packed a bag. “And he still hasn’t done one bad thing!” Currently he’d been explaining the roommate situation to Patton. For the past three days Roman had been a perfect roommate to Virgil, he’d kept the whole dorm clean, he would cook amazing meals for Virgil by waking up before him and having something always prepared for when the emo came back from class, AND he had yet to fall back into his old pattern of bullying Virgil. He had become the perfect roommate, but Virgil wasn’t quite ready to believe the act.

“Well, is that such a bad thing kiddo?” Patton had been listening to his little brother ramble on for the past hour about all the good things Roman had done as if Roman had done something terrible while... packing a bag? “Maybe he has changed?”

“Patton.” Virgil paused his packing. “People like him don’t change that fast.”

“Yeah but-” Patton tried to argue but was cut off as someone peeked at the screen over his shoulder.

“Patton dear, Virgil’s right. People can change but not that fast.” Janus, Patton’s lover, had been the one to cut off their boyfriend.

“Thank you Jan.” Virgil sighed as Patton had gained an exasperated look of defeat.

“No problem kid.” Janus smiled down at the screen, until his eyes caught on the bag Virgil was preparing with curiosity. “I thought you already finished your classes for the week?”

“Oh, I did.” Virgil had started packing it again, now adding a rather large water bottle.“Then why are you packing a bag?” Janus started adding a little motherly sternness to their voice as they said this.

“I uhm…” Virgil paused and looked at the screen, finding himself facing a worried brother and their glaring significant other. He cleared his throat before continuing. “I’m going to catch him in the act of being a bad person.” He smiled awkwardly, praying they wouldn’t ask more.

“Yes, but why do you need a bag for that?” Of course Jan would ask more, they are a lawyer after all.

“Well…” Virgil swallowed his nerves. He couldn’t lie to them. Literally. Janus always knew when someone was lying. “Remember when Patton would go to school and I would have to stay in his pocket because I was too young to be alone?”

“Oh Virgil…” “Oh kid....” They both seemed to say at the same time with that disappointed parent voice.

“Virgil you could get hurt!” Patton tried to argue as Virgil quickly zipped up the bag needing to escape this conversation.

“Don’t worry, I thought it through all night and I’ll be fine.” Virgil collected the bag onto his bag.

“Did you get any sleep last night?” Janus pinched the bridge of their nose.

“Does it matter?” Virgil blushed.

“Kiddo, you need sleep!” Patton worried. “And you can’t just sneak into people’s pockets!” He scolded.

“It’ll be fine Patt,” Virgil argued, but now was starting to doubt himself. “plus, I have everything I need in this bag.” He slung it onto his shoulders.

“That’s not the point Virgil.” Janus deadpanned. “You should listen to your brother, you could get hurt or worse.” Virgil opened his mouth to argue but Jan beat him to it. “And don’t reference when did it as kids. Patton knew you were in his pocket, Roman won’t. One wrong, unaware move, could seriously injure you and we won’t be there to help. I understand that you want to prove that he isn’t any better than he was in highschool, but there is still three days left in the week, plenty of time to either catch him being that person or to urge him into being like that again. There are other ways.” Virgil stared at the wall. Exhaled. Then closed his laptop.

It was time to get into position. Good thing Roman had left his jacket in the living room last night.

●●●

Roman woke with a start as his alarm blared into his ears. As he checked his phone he found it had actually been going off for the past hour, and he was about to be late to his first day of class. He jumped out of bed and pulled on his clothes for the day, not bothering with a shower, or brushing his hair and teeth. He ran out of his room and snatched his jacket off the floor and threw it on before grabbing his backpack and slipping into it as he rushed out the door. As Roman ran to class his jacket swung around threatening to spill the contents of it’s pockets, luckily there was nothing in it’s pockets.

Or so Roman thought.

As Roman ran Virgil was on the verge of an anxiety attack as he held on for dear life. It was now that Virgil regretted his plan of hiding in Roman’s jacket pocket. Virgil was sure that if he hadn’t had a death grip on the inside fabric of the pocket he would’ve fallen out and gone ‘Splat!’ on the ground by now. He was lucky that he had decided to pack a backpack and not a different type of bag or he would have definitely lost his supplies by now. Maybe he should have listened to Patton and Janus, there definitely were more options to see Roman not be the perfect Prince Charming he was in the dorm. Unfortunately, it was too late to turn back now. For the time being Virgil would have to focus on his breathing and holding onto fabric.

As Roman ran to class Virgil could feel every thump as his pocket hit Roman’s side with every step. Virgil’s heart pace quickened as he could only hear Roman’s pounding footsteps as he stomped down with what sounded like all of his force but Virgil knew Roman was barely touching the ground with how fast he was running, and it was terrifying. Virgil’s mind raced as he squeezed his eyes closed, trying to block out the rest of the world. Breath, just breath. He tried telling himself but it was hard to focus on his thoughts when his ears were pounding from the strain of hearing so many loud sounds, pounding footsteps, a heart beating impossibly fast and loud, breathing that sounded like a tornado, a stomach that just would not stop growling. It felt like hours before Roman burst through what had to be his classroom door, but it had actually been a few minutes.

“Oh thank god… “ Roman exhaled with relief as he had made it on time with a few minutes to spare. He chose a seat off to the side and promptly collapsed in it. Virgil was relieved as Roman sat down and slid down in the pocket as he finally relaxed, taking a moment to let go of the fabric and rest his fingers. Virgil took this time to calm himself as he listened to Roman’s breathing and rhythmic heartbeat. Once Virgil’s breathing had even, he pulled out his phone-like his backpack it had shrunk with him-and focused on Tumb.lr to defray his nerves.

While Roman waited for the professor to arrive he pulled out his phone and got onto Instagram. Not long after he’d gotten his phone out did he receive a message from someone he thought he’d blocked. Heather. His ex from highschool. She had sent him a picture of him sitting in class from the back of the room he was in, with the caption: “didn’t know you’d be here lover boy~” with a heart. Roman took a moment to glance behind him, and sure enough in the very back of the classroom, was the makeup covered, plastic, fake, bitch, Heather. Roman took a moment. Screamed internally. Then blocked Heather on Instagram again. He held back a laugh as he heard her noises of disbelieving offense, but did allow himself to gain a satisfied smile.

“Do you how do, class?” Someone exclaimed as they walked through the door. “I am your teacher, Professor Picani.” He smiled as he gave them all a small bow. “And I am here to teach you about acting!” He smiled brightly. “But for today, let’s get acquainted with each other, shall we? All you have to do today is talk to each other, have fun you sassy lassies.” With that Picani sat at his desk and watched over the room as students took the opportunity to talk to get crazy. Everyone immediately surrounded one desk as someone had pulled out a couple of prop swords and was setting up duels for everyone.

Roman was halfway out of his seat to join them when Heather appeared in front of him saying, “So Roman,” she leaned over him with her hand on his desk, preventing him from moving. Virgil stiffened at her voice, easily recognizing it. “I didn’t think you would be able to afford going here, did you just miss me that much?” She smiled innocently as Roman grimaced.

“No, I got a scholarship for doing theater.” He deadpanned, wanting nothing more than for the conversation to be over. Virgil listened closely from his pocket, surprised by Roman’s harsh tone. Hadn’t he been dating Heather?

“Ooooohhhh.” She said, feigning ignorance. “So they took pity on you and emo fucker?” Virgil flinched at the nickname, but surely now Roman would give up the act?

“No, I think we earned going here.” Roman was curt, cutting his words making them sharp. “Unlike you who paid them to let you in, but just because you’re hee that doesn’t give you the right to say that.”

“Say what? Emo fucker?” She smiled with innocence but a dangerous gleam could be seen in her eyes. She leaned in close to Roman and from the pocket Virgil could feel the shift in atmosphere, both the tension and the heat radiating from the two giant bodies that were now close together. Virgil shifted uncomfortably and scooted back closer to Roman, although he may not like the prep they were better than the bitch any day. Roman gained a look of disgust as he leaned away from her. “Ya know, I heard that you share a dorm with him. Are you an emo fucker, Slut.” Roman promptly blushed and pushed her away from him. As Heather stumbled back she smiled mischievously. Virgil was blushing as he got startled by Roman’s sudden movement to push the bitch away.

“Get away from me!” Roman had exclaimed as he’d pushed her. She just chuckled darkly at him.

“So you are a gay looser?” She gained a sinister smile. “Just like that emo fuck up.” She purred.

“You have no right to talk about him in that way!” Roman exclaimed surprising Virgil. “You can say and do whatever you want about me but you never even talked to him, got to know him, you have no right to treat him the way you do.” Virgil was dumbstruck. Did… did Roman just defend him?

“Oh, and you did?” Heather retorted striking Roman speechless. “That’s what I thought.” With that she walked away leaving Roman to his own devices. Virgil just sat there listening to Roman slow breathing and quick heartbeat. He didn’t know what to think, and he definitely didn’t trust his feelings right now considering the immense heat he could feel spreading across his face. He huddled further into the pocket-not cuddled, he would never cuddle up to Roman! He closed his eyes and decided to take a small nap for now…

●●●

Later that night Virgil crawled out of Roman’s pocket after the prep had fallen asleep and returned to his room in disappointment, having not found what he was looking for. When he finally got back to his usual size he collapsed into bed and checked his phone to find hundreds of messages from both Patton and Janus asking what happened and if he was okay. Instead of texting back, he recorded a little voice message.

“ ‘m fine… Roman might be cute again, updates in the morning…” Then, he slept.

Next Chapter =>

Tag list: @unevencube2554 @bullet-tothefeels @carryondrawing

#sander sides #virgil sanders #roman sanders #g/t #giant/tiny #giant #tiny #size shifter #size shifter virgil #patton sanders #janus sanders #tw cussing #tw anxiety attack #emile picani #its a small world

60 notes · View notes

z-iridest · 4 years

Note

Dabi, mirio, bakugo, todoroki and Kirishima

Ok, this is the fluffiest of the fluff so many uwus cuteness overload. Since I know your speciality love, heart flutters, and smiles my requested bday gift. 💑 ⛪ 🎩 👰💋👨‍💼🎊🎎🎎🎎

Marriage proposal! That's my request 🥺😘 may I please have you write how each boy would propose to their SO 🙇🏽‍♂️🙇🏽‍♂️🙇🏽‍♂️ tysm😚

(Omg omg omg YES! I'm so so so so sorry this is late, I tried to get this done by your b-day, lovely, I swear! Forgive meeeeee! 😭)

MHA Proposals

Warning: Little bit of language

Katsuki Bakugo

First, we start with the Boom-Boom Tsundere.....

Now, as my various fellow writers have written about our favorite Explosion Boy, he's not too interested in dating... Unless he wants a long term relationship

The two of you met back in your first year of U.A., and though things had started off rocky between the two of you, you ended up being the closest of Bakugo's friends beside Kirishima

The summer before your second year at U.A., the two of you hung out more and Bakugo asked you out within a month of the first day of your second year

Ever since that day, you two were the power couple of U.A., inseparable on and off the battlefield

He wanted to spend the rest of his life with you, hell, he knew it while the two of you were just friends.

He planned everything out the proposal for at least 2 months, even swallowing his pride and asking his friends for help.... Yeah, Mina lost it when he told her, she was so excited

So, on the night of your anniversary, he cooked a special candle lit dinner, got dressed up nice and had a bouquet of roses waiting for you when you came over

The entire night, he was the gentleman he'd always been with you, but added a kiss to your temple as he pulled out a chair for you, a kiss to the top of your hand for a split second during dinner... He spoiled you with affection

Once the both of you had eaten to your heart's content, he took both of your hands in his.

"Baby, I know I'm not the easiest to deal with. God knows my temper gets out of control sometimes... But, I'd be damned if I ever said that you didn't make me want to be a better man. You've known me since our first year at U.A., and our first meeting seems like it was only yesterday. Back then, if anyone had told me I'd have the most amazing, smart and hot s/o by my side for 3 years... I'd have yelled my lungs out and called them crazy. But," he gently squeezed your hands, his touch tender. "Baby, I wouldn't trade the last 3 years for anything. I love you with all my heart, as cheesy as it sounds, and the last 3 years have been the best of my life, and..." He got up and walked to your side before retaking your hand. "I don't want that to ever stop."

He got down on one knee and pulled out the ring, looking up at you with the most tender, loving expression on his face while you were ready to start crying. "Y/N, love of my life, will you marry me?"

Through tears of joy, you said yes. He pulled you into a hug before putting the ring on your finger and kissing you

Shouto Todoroki

Like Bakugo, Todoroki had met you his first year at U.A.....

Unlike Bakugo, the two of you met in the U.A. Sports Festival that year

Your spitfire nature intrigued him, and because of this, he was drawn to you like a moth to a flame

Overtime, the two of you became friends, and by the end of the year, he started to experience something he'd never felt before...

He didn't figure out what the feeling exactly was until he told his mother about you and what he felt while he was around you. She was the one who told him he had a crush on you... And demanded that he bring you to meet her once he had asked you out

So, second year of U.A. comes, and so begins the attempts at asking you out, all of which failed....

His last resort?

He caught a bunch of guys eyeing you lustfully, and he didn't like the way you were visibly uncomfortable.... So, he did the kabedon on you before the boys could do anything. He glared at the boys out of the corner of his eye

Thankfully, the creeps took the hint and ran for it, and Todoroki used the opportunity to ask you out

The rest is dating history....

Fast forward 2 years... You've met his mother and siblings (all of whom loved you).... It did take Endeavour a bit to get used to you, but a year after the two of you started dating, Todoroki had stood up to him for you.

Anyways, the night of your 3rd anniversary, he called Midoriya and Iida... Panicking a bit because he had gotten the ring, but had no plan for the proposal

Midoriya calmed him down and gave him some advice along with Iida

When you came home, you found dinner ready and a note next to your plate

The scavenger hunt led you to the various date spots the two of you had been to until you had reached the spot that Todoroki had taken you on your first date

On that little hill, standing there patiently waiting for you

When he saw you, the tender smile he'd always had around you crossed his face

In his hand was a half white, half red rose, which he gave to you as he greeted you

A picnic dinner was waiting for the two of you, so the two of you sat down together and ate while watching the sunset

The two of you talked and stargazed together

"My love, do you recognize any constellations?" He had asked you

You replied that you didn't (or did and named the few you could name XD)

He moved a little closer as he asked, "Would you like to know what I see?"

Curious, you nodded, but you were blindsided when he pulled out the ring

"All I see is the two of us together. I'm a better man thanks to you, my love, and I don't want to miss a second of it. But, this ring isn't to pressure you. If you're not ready to get married, I'll wait as long as it takes because I love you with all that I am."

You teared up at his tender words and tone and told him that you were ready

He smiled with tears of joy in his own eyes and kissed you tenderly before putting the ring on your finger before he held you. "I promise you, my love, I'll take good care of you."

Eijirou Kirishima

So, even though the two of you both went to U.A., the two of you actually met a couple weeks before school started

Ejirou had been jogging in the park when he first saw you

He had been too shy to say anything, but that first smile from you meant the world to him

That day, you had approached him and the two of you jogged together while talking

A few months into your first year at U.A., he started developing a crush on you

Halfway through the first year is when he finally asked you out

The two of you have been inseparable ever since that day

Kirishima loves the hell out of you, and he loves making you smile or laugh anytime

Back hugs are a definite with this shark toothed sweetheart UwU

Fast forward to a few years later, the two of you are living together and everyday is wonderful for Kirishima

Two months before your anniversary, he planned everything to take things to the next level with you

When you walk in, you're both surprised and touched to see dinner waiting on the table and Kirishima covered in head to toe with what looks like flour with a shark toothed grin on his face

"Happy anniversary, baby." He told you, opening his arms for you.

You giggle and hug him, both of you laughing when you realized you know had flour on you

After a quick shower and changing into comfortable clothes (meaning one of Kirishima's T shirts and a pair of sweatpants for you), the two of you ate dinner and talked about your day.

"Hey, baby, I've got a question for you." He told you. You tipped your head to one side, encouraging him to continue

You watched him take a deep breath before he took your hand, holding it tenderly in his. "I know, this isn't exactly fancy, but I couldn't think of any better way. You deserve the world, baby, and..." He came around to your side and got down on one knee. "I hope I'm the lucky bastard who gets to give it to you. I don't have a ring right now, but damn, I love you so much, and not a day goes by where the thought of you makes me smile and want to be a better hero and a better man. So, if you'll have me, ring or no ring, will you do me the honor of becoming my wife and marry me?" He asked.

Smiling through tears of joy, you nodded in response

Kirishima grinned and hugged you. "We can go pick out a ring together. I want it to be perfect for you." He covered your face with kisses until he heard that adorable laugh he loved so much.

Mirio Togata

That brings us to the sunshine of the Big 3... Mirio

You better believe this boy was head over heels for you when he met you

The two of you met in junior high, and you encouraged him to keep training with his quirk, believing in him

By your first year at U.A., the two of you had grown closer together, and Tamaki pointed out to Mirio that he had a crush on you

Halfway through your first year of U.A., he asked you out and the rest is history

You were there for him through everything, being his cheerleader

When Eri entered your lives, you (of course) welcomed her with open arms, spending time with her and Mirio

The first time Eri called you "Big Sister", it had surprised you, but you were touched by her words.

Fast forward a couple years....

The two of you are living together, and everyday with Mirio means the world to you, just like it means the world to him

Which is why, while you at work, he bought a ring for you and set up his plan to propose (Eri helped him pick the ring out ^.^)

When you got home, you found a note from Mirio telling you to meet him at the park, but nothing could prepare you for what was waiting for you.

The moment he saw you coming, he began to play the acoustic guitar you had given him...

As you reached the beginning of a trail of candles, 'I Love You Too Much' by Diego Luna filled your ears, but when you looked up, you saw your boyfriend, smiling warmly as he played the guitar and sang to you as you walked toward him

When you reached him, he got down on one knee as he sang the last line

You covered your mouth and he smiled as he brought out the ring. "Y/N, sunshine of my life, will you marry me?"

Through tears of joy, you accepted and the two of you automatically embraced before kissing as he placed the ring on your finger

Dabi

That brings us to Dabi....

Excuse my language right now, but this motherfucker.... He loved teasing you when you first joined the League, mainly because it annoyed you plus it was fun for him

But, the first time you barked at him to knock off his shit... He'd be lying if he said it didn't do something to him....

A few months later, the two of you were put on a mission together, and you saw just how serious he was on the front line, including his tsundere ways of keeping you safe when it called for it

About a year after you first joined, Toga (nearly getting burned in the process) told you that Dabi had a big fat crush on you before Dabi chased her for telling you, then trying to deny it

He did give up trying to deny it after a while and finally confessed, surprised when you actually returned how he felt

Fast forward 2 years....

You two: living together, an inseparable pair of troublemakers

There wasn't really any plan after almost 3 years of being together, Dabi just ended up getting some candy hearts on Valentine's Day and gave you one that said, 'Marry Me'. When you looked up from it, you found him in front of you, down on one knee to show you that he was dead serious

"Doll, will you be my eternal partner in crime?" He had asked

Your reply? It was a no duh.

He chuckled and kissed you (he went out later and stole a ring you liked)

What can I say? That flame bastard would do anything for you

27 notes · View notes

trashmouth-tozier89 · 4 years

Text

Welcome to the Loser’s Club Asshole! - Ch.1 | ONE

Warnings: swearing, one homophobic slur (Bowers)

Word Count: 4,084

Pairing: Richie Tozier x Reader

A/N - the first official chapter of the first series on my page! oof, this is gonna be a ride. please know this is basically my interpretation of the two recent adaptations of IT that have come out, and so the cast of this exactly the same, with you as Y/N! I hope you enjoy this, and my interpretation of the film!

If you wish to be added to the taglist, send in an ask or pop it in the comments! :)

Welcome to the Loser’s Club Asshole Masterlist

Being the new girl was certainly the worst.

Y/N’s mum had decided her family needed a big change, and she assumed this would mean something like refurbishing the living room or getting a family pet, not moving to a completely different town on the opposite side of Maine. She had begged and pleaded, took every chance she could to convince her against the decision, but before she knew it, the house was bought and she was packing her bedroom into measly cardboard boxes.

Being a stickler for organisation, she had split everything she owned into 4 categories; clothing, books, cassette tapes and others. As she slipped her final book into the box labelled books, she sighed in relief; glad she was finally finished and could take a rest. It’s not like she owned much anyway, but she didn’t exactly like doing something which she didn’t want to do. Packing up her stuff meant that this was final, it was happening and nothing would change it.

Moving to a new city meant moving away from the place she called home; her friends, other family; she even considered the possibility that she’d miss the bullies at her school. She wasn’t exactly the most confident and outspoken person, so she wasn’t sure how easy it would be to make new friends. Especially considering the school her mum had enrolled her at, Derry High School, had taken one look at her grades and placed her in all the higher set classes. If she were to make friends, they would probably end up being nerds who were the pit of all jokes at the school. It’s not like she had any way of keeping in touch with her friends back home either; she wasn’t sure if her new house would have a telephone, and even if it did, catching up on the phone every night was not the idea of fun she had pictured for her summer holiday. She was utterly doomed to spend your summer indoors, alone, doing art to pass the time.

She lay back on the mattress that was once her bed, which annoyingly had no bedding on but it was better than nothing, and flipped to an empty page in her sketchbook, the pencil meeting the paper within seconds. She didn’t even have to think about what she was drawing, for the inspiration simply came without effort. Halfway through drawing, her mother barged into the bedroom, looking around to check she had completed what she had asked. Y/N could tell she was stressed, her decision quickly backfiring when she realised how much there was to do; the two were meant to be leaving for Derry tonight, and the moving truck was yet to arrive.

“Is it still not here yet?” Y/N questioned, looking to her mother’s worried expression and matching it. She nodded, shaking her head softly and sighing loudly. This really was taking a toll on her. “Is everything else packed up?”

It was just the 2 of them living in the house, though not for much longer. Y/N’s father had been out of the picture for about a year now, passing away after a terrible accident in one of the quarries across town, and it had taken a damaging toll on the whole family. Her mother had been feeling down for months, and she considered that this was probably the reason she wanted to move; the memory of her husband was bound to this town and if she were to move, maybe she could escape the pain. Y/N couldn’t deny, that really was the only reason she was happy to leave this town too, and so she went with her decisions with at least a little support.

“Thankfully it is. We are just waiting for the truck and then we can leave. I’d be happy to set off now, but I don’t know how I feel leaving all our stuff in the house by itself.” She explained, sitting down on the edge of the bed and resting her head in her hands. Like a miracle, the truck pulled in as soon as she finished her sentence, and Y/N could see the glee on her face when the middle-aged man from outside shouted “Is this the L/N residence” from the drive. She stuck her head out the window with a big grin, nodding yes and explaining she’d ‘be down in just a second’. It had all begun to set in; they really were moving, and they probably wouldn’t ever be coming back.

Making her way down, Y/N’s mother was in conversation with the truck driver, whilst other men rushed past her to grab all the furniture and boxes from inside the house. She only heard small snippets of her conversation, before sitting down in the car and closing the door. She didn’t want the big goodbyes and sadness; she wanted to get it over and done with before the emotions began to sit in. Thankfully, her friends had already said goodbye to her the day before; once she had left, she would be en route to Derry, no stops.

***

The new house was nice. It was nothing compared to her old one, but it was manageable. Y/N had her own room, and she could definitely fit all her furniture into it without too much of a squeeze. It just felt... strange. The whole town felt strange. Off. Like something wasn’t right.

Nevertheless, she lived here now and she wasn’t going to complain, because it would only upset her mother more and she didn’t want that to happen. Today was supposed to be Y/N’s first day at school, which she saw as extremely pointless considering the fact it was also the last day at school before summer. Her mother hadn’t picked the most opportune time to move house, but she wanted Y/N to at least get one or two friends before going into the summer, so she had someone to spend the time with. She understood the reasoning, she just didn’t exactly agree.

Especially considering she was 5 periods into the school day and yet to make any friends. Everyone either sent her a glance of disgust or confusion, questioning who she was and why the fuck she was even here. She peeked at her timetable to see her last lesson was easily the worst, Math. Being in the higher set didn’t make it much easier either. Apparently, the smart kids of Derry were much smarter than the smart kids of her hometown. Walking into the classroom, she recognised everyone from your previous classes, except one boy who sat right at the back of the class. His head was leant down, focused on a book, but she knew she didn’t know him based on the fact she hadn’t seen anyone with the same curly hair and blue shirt. Due to the fact the only empty seat happened to be next to the boy, she made her way over.

“I-uh, is this seat taken?” Y/N asked, pointing to the vacant seat with a grin on her face. His head shot up at the sound of a girl’s voice, shaking his head slightly to indicate it wasn’t before looking back at his book. She sat herself down, pulling the math textbook out of her extremely light backpack and turned to face the boy. He seemed nice enough, and she thought she ought to begin making friends; at least then she could say she tried. “What are you reading?”

“Oh, it’s a book about birds.” He mumbled, almost like he didn’t want to be talking to her, but she wouldn’t let that put her off.

“Have you ever been birdwatching? I love to just sit in my back garden and watch them, sometimes I get my sketchbook out and draw them” she smiled at the thought, memories of her and her father sat in the garden with binoculars that were too big for her face hanging around her neck as he pointed out what each one was. Birdwatching soon became one of her favourite activities. That was the benefit of living near trees, and thankfully her new house also had that.

“Wait, you actually like birdwatching? I love it; b-but all my friends think it’s stupid!” He perked up, shocked to have found someone else with the same passion. She knew she was going to get along quite well with the boy, or she hoped at least. “I’m Stanley Uris, but you can call me Stan. That’s what my friends call me”

“I’m Y/N L/N. Hopefully we can birdwatch together sometime soon.”

“I-I’d like that” he grinned, cheeks blushing red at the idea of a pretty girl like her wanting to spend time with a boy like him. Her first official friend – Stanley Uris. Stan Uris. The boy from math class.

Maybe her summer wouldn’t be as lonely as she anticipated.

***

As the final bell of the day rang, the children of Derry High School spewed into the hallways, cheers and laughter filling what was previously silence. A collection of 3 boys rushed out of once classroom, carrying on down the corridor together; anyone around them could see very clearly that they were best of friends just from the way they interacted.

“So there’s like this church full of Jews right? And Stan has to take like this super Jew-y test” Eddie Kaspbrak, the smaller one of the 3, explained. The boy had a fanny pack tightly strapped around his waist, containing who knows what, and his backpack hanging over his shoulders. Some may have considered the extra accessory unnecessary for a school day, but they did not know Eddie and his hypochondriac personality well enough to make a judgement.

“But how’s it work?” Bill Denborough questioned; Bill was largely considered the leader of the pack due to his optimistic personality and valiance, also the fact that he was the tallest of the 3 gave him a slight advantage. Though, everyone has noticed the way Bill had been acting a lot more removed, and they immediately credited it to the fact Georgie, Bill’s younger brother, had gone missing only months earlier. No one dared to bring it up to the poor boy though.

“They slice the tip of his dick off!” Eddie pointed out, with a little too much enthusiasm. Bill pulled a face, as if to say Eddie was crazy, but the third boy simply scrunched his eyebrows together in a frown.

“But then Stan’ll have nothing left!” Richie Tozier, the final of the three, joked. Richie was the clown of the group, or as they liked to call him, the ‘trashmouth’. Mainly due to the amount of rubbish and vulgar words that came out of his mouth almost every second of every day. Richie couldn’t help it, it was his personality, but most people who met his for the first time didn’t expect such crude things due to the way he looked; the lens of his glasses were so thick, they made his eyes appear 5x bigger than they really were, meaning Richie was able to get away with a lot of the wreck he havocked.

“That’s true” Eddie started, before being interrupted from the touch of a hand grabbing his shoulder, and a familiar voice shouting “Wait up, you guys!” from behind him. The 3 turned to face Stanley, who had made his way out of maths a little late because he wanted to give Y/N his telephone number and address. That way, they would be able to birdwatch together.

“Hey Stan, what happens at the bar mitzvah anyways? Ed says they slice the tip of your d-d-d-dick off” Bill stuttered out, another stand out feature about the young boy. Bill had sported a stutter since he was a young child, which had earned him the nickname ‘Stuttering Bill’ from everyone at school. He hated the nickname, and he didn’t necessarily like his stutter either, but it had been getting better as time went on.

“Yeah, and I think the Rabbi’s gonna pull down your pants, turn to the crowd and say ‘Where’s the beef?” Richie exclaims, earning a small chuckle from the other two, while Stan simply stayed straight faced.

“At the bar mitzvah, I read from the Torah” Stan began, earning the attention from the other boys, “And then I make a speech, and suddenly I become a man”

The explanation seemed enough for Eddie and Bill, but of course, Richie slipped in one more joke with “I could think of funner ways to become a man”. That was before locking eyes with a group of boys, obviously older, who went by the name of the Bower’s gang; there was Patrick Hockstetter, a tall quite lanky boy, with black shady hair; Belch Huggins, overweight enough so that his belly always hung slightly over his belt, a baseball cap on his head and a grin of mischief on his face; Victor Criss, rather tall and thin like Patrick, but with hair as light as his pasty skin; and lastly, Henry Bowers. Sporting a brown mullet, wearing a t-shirt and a look of disgust on his face, Henry was the worst of them all. Even the name, Henry Bowers, struck fear in almost every student at Derry High. It was common knowledge; do not cross Henry Bowers or any of his goons. Unless you have a death wish, that is.

Richie had been so distracted by the gang, he barely noticed when Stan corrected his grammar; “More fun, you mean”

The Bower’s gang stared at the smaller group as they passed by, Patrick licking his lips at Richie as if he was fresh meat. It is obvious from the boys faces they were frightened, Eddie even double-taking once or twice to ensure they weren’t following. Richie piped up, noticing how the group had been rendered silent; “Think they’ll sign my yearbook? ‘Dear Richie, sorry for taking a hot, steaming dump in your backpack last March, have a good summer!”

Eddie and Bill chuckled at the memory of Richie’s disgusted face having discovered Bowers had, in fact, taken a shit in his backpack without him knowing. Richie had learnt from that point that whenever the gang were in the toilets, it wasn’t a smart idea to also go in. And make a joke which is bound to aggravate them. Stan, however, was too preoccupied by Greta Keene who had knocked into his shoulder whilst barging towards the toilet at a speed that was simply unneeded for a school corridor. Greta was also a bit of a bully, but mostly to the girls of the school, considering she thought she was superior to them all. With the attitude of a stuck up brat, Greta was despised by the group of boys too. This was understandable.

***

“Best feeling ever” Stan grinned, as the 4 boys dumped everything and anything they could out of their backpacks and into the bins in front of the school. It was extremely relieving for them, knowing school was finally over.

“Oh yeah? Try tickling your pickle for the first time” Richie quipped, earning nothing but eye rolls and sniggers from the rest. Thankfully, Eddie was changing the subject before Richie could continue.

“Hey, what do you guys wanna do tomorrow?”

“I start my training” Richie explained, as if it was the most obvious thing that could’ve been said. This confused Eddie, and the remaining boys, as he questioned “Wha-what training?”

“Street Fighter” Richie answered, referring to the video game in the arcade Richie had practically dedicated his life to complete.

“Is that how you wanna spend your summer? Inside of an arcade” Eddie grimaced at the idea; he never understood the appeal of gaming, or the arcade for that matter, whereas Richie was the exact opposite. Richie looked at Eddie with a disappointed look on his face, huffing lightly.

“Beats spending it inside of your mother!” Richie exclaimed, chuckling at his own joke as he lifted his hand to high five Stan with an ‘Oh!’, only for his arm to be pulled down by Stan, who wasn’t joining in on any of Richie’s jokes, and instead making a more reasonable suggestion; “What if we go to the quarry?”

Eddie seemed on board with the idea, Richie too, but Bill was quick to remind them; “Guys, we have the b-b-b-Barrens”

“Right” Stan responded, understanding that going to the Barrens meant spending the day searching for Georgie.

“Betty Ripsom’s mom…” Eddie mumbled, changing the subject once again, as he spotted the woman stood next to a police car. She was looking around at all the children, searching for her daughter, who had also gone missing month before.

“Is she really expecting to see her come out of school?” Stan muttered, feeling a pang of guilt as he noticed the distraught expression on the woman’s face.

“I don’t know” Eddie answered, “As if Betty Ripsom’s been hiding in Home Ec. for the last few weeks”

“You think they’ll actually find her?” Stan asked again, eyes still pinned solely on the woman.

“Sure. In a ditch, all decomposed, covered in worms and maggots, smelling like Eddie’s mom’s underwear” Richie retorted, almost with a lack of humour to it.

“Shut up! That’s freaking disgusting” Eddie complains, the fact his mother is the pit of another one of Richie’s jokes getting on his nerves.

“Sh-she’s not dead. She’s m-m-m-m-missing” Bill insisted, turning back to Richie with a saddened look in his eye. The boy’s hearts dropped at the realisation of what they were talking about, and how sensitive it was for Bill. If Betty was dead, that meant Georgie probably was too, and Bill wasn’t ready to accept that.

Richie adjusted his glasses slightly, apologising quickly; “Sorry Bill. She’s missing.”

Bill turned to walk away from the bins and towards their bikes, with the others following behind – “You know the Barrens aren’t that bad. Who doesn’t love splashing around in shitty water?” Richie barely got out before a hand had grabbed onto the straps of his backpack and flung him backwards, sending him tumbling into Stanley. As they fell to the grass, Stanley’s kippah slipped off his head. Patrick noticed this, and grabbed the head cover before Stanley could stop him; “Nice Frisbee, flamer” Patrick mocked

“Give it back” Stan insisted, but Patrick had flung the small hat into a passing bus and shouted “Fucking losers” before Stan could grab it out his hand.

Belch approached an unsuspecting Eddie from behind, burping loudly into his ear. This caused Eddie to gag and run to the over side of Bill to get away from the boy. Bill, however, escaped any ridicule apart from a nudge from Henry as he passed by, mumbling “Loser” not so discreetly.

All the meanwhile, Y/N was stood at top of the path leading down to where the confrontation could be seen happening. She had been walking out of the building to head home, glad the day was finally over, before she witnessed the boy from math class being pushed over and bullied by the group of boys she didn’t even know. She usually would’ve left this kind of confrontation alone, but considering Stanley was the only friend she had managed to make yet, she kind of owed it to him. She rushed over to Stan’s side, helping him up off the ground, him mumbling a small ‘thank you’ in response. She watched as the bullies began to walk away, but she wasn’t going to let that happen; who were they to treat her friend like shit?

“What is your problem?” she shouted, capturing the attention of the rest of the Loser’s, but more importantly the Bower’s gang. They stopped in their tracks, turning back with a look of surprise on their face; surprise that someone would have the audacity to stand up to them. She couldn’t help but take a step back, feeling intimidated by the older boys, but that didn’t stop the girl from standing her ground with confidence.

“What did you say?” Henry scoffed.

“I said, what is your problem – need I repeat that again? Maybe a little slower so you and your pee brain friends can understand it a bit better this time?” she retorted, not letting the pit of fear she felt bubbling in her stomach show. Eddie, Richie, Stan and Bill cowered behind her, looking at each other in shock that this random girl was standing up to the school bullies, insulting them.

“Y/N, right? Only your first day at this school and I’ve heard all about you. You and your mom – I heard, she gave the principal a blowie so he would let you join the school. Not surprised, from the looks of you, your whole family are whores.” Henry muttered, making his way closer and closer to her face. Y/N felt sick at his words, the idea of a rumour like that being spread around school filling her with nothing but rage. With his final sentence, she watched as his hand went to reach under her skirt, before he had locked eyes with a police officer who stood against one of the cars. He pulled his hand away almost immediately, and she swore she saw a look of fear in the bully’s eyes. He began to back away, thankfully, but finished with one final sentence.

“This summer’s gonna be a hurt train, for you and your faggot friends” He threatened, before licking his palm and sliding it across Y/N’s cheek in one swift motion, eventually walking off towards their car and driving off. As soon as the group were far enough away, Y/N span around to check on the boys.

“A-are you guys okay?” she muttered, checking all 4 of them for grass stains or bruises. Meanwhile, they stood frozen, staring at the girl. It was starting to make her nervous, like she had done something wrong; “what?”

“That. Was. Hot” Richie muttered out, one word at a time, as his eyes remained solely on the girl in front of him. He thought the girl was the prettiest person he had ever seen; her e/c eyes which sparkled in the sunlight; her smile which stretched up to her eyes, that just seemed so genuinely sweet with just the right touch of shyness; her wavy h/c which flowed, it looked so soft, and he just wanted to run his fingers through- What was happening to Richie?

“Excuse me?” She questioned, furrowing her brows and giggling at the boy.

“Uh, thank you. He meant to say th-th-thank you” Bill stuttered out, the girls appearance setting him back a little too; nowhere near as much as Richie though. While the other boys had snapped back to reality, Richie still seemed in some kind of trance, until Stan nudged his side harshly.

“Oh that’s no problem, Stanley here is the only friend I’ve made so far, so I thought I’d help out. I guess I didn’t expect…”

“Henry, Henry Bowers” Eddie filled in, noticing she was racking her brain for a name she knew didn’t reside there. She nodded, smiling thankfully before continuing

“…Henry to be so, uh, psychotic. Is he always like that?”

“Pretty much, stay away from him as much as you can Y/N. He’s a dickhead” Stan warned her, watching as her head nodded in acceptance; he didn’t have to tell her twice. “Oh, we were going to head to the Barrens tomorrow, i-if you wanted to join?”

“The Barrens? What’s that?” she questioned, furrowing her eyebrows and looking around the group to see they were all staring at her in admiration.

“It’s a small tract of land still heavily covered in trees and plant life, but there’s a river that runs through it…” Stan explained, watching as she went to ask why anyone would want to spend their day splashing through shitty water, but his face said it all; don’t ask.

“Umm, yeah. I’d like that – you have my number right, Stan?” she asked, and he nodded quickly. “Right, well I guess I better be off – my mom’s probably sat at home, waiting to hear all about how shit my day was, so… I’ll see you guys tomorrow!”

She skipped off into the distance, Stan waving goodbye before turning back to the 3 boys who still stood shocked. Stan chuckled at the way they watched her leave, Richie’s mouth even falling open slightly, beginning to drool. He wiped it away quickly, before turning to Stan in an instant and almost yelling

“Who the fuck was that?”

65 notes · View notes

scullyfemme · 4 years

Text

Timing -- Ch. 2

“Told you they’d be suspicious”

Mulder and Scully try to navigate this new phase of their relationship

(aka me getting out my “let mulder and scully be happy” energy with some fluff scenes)

<- Last Chapter | tagging @today-in-fic | Read it on Ao3 | Next Chapter ->

---

After a few moments, Scully had gotten up to go to the bathroom. Feeling weird laying naked on his couch by himself, Mulder got up and started getting dressed, gathering her shirt and underwear for her while he was at it.

She came out of the bathroom and took her clothes with an awkward smile, slipping her underwear on and shooting him a look that said we need to talk about this before throwing her shirt over her head. It was halfway on when a knock sounded from the door.

Startled, Scully stuffed her head through her shirt with less care than normal, mussing her hair up even more. They exchanged panicked looks

“Who is it?” He called out.

“It’s us!” Langly’s voice was easily recognizable.

“Uh, just a minute!” He grabbed their coats and started to hang them up, but she got his attention with a psst. She reached out, indicating she wanted her coat.

“What are you doing?” He whispered.

“I’m hiding in your room,” She whispered back, padding over quietly to where her heels laid. He couldn’t recall her removing them.

“Why?” He asked. “You’re here all the time, it’s not suspicious.”

“Mulder, you have marks on your neck!” She hissed, her cheeks tinged pink. “Ones that definitely weren’t there when we found you. If I’m here, they might put two and two together.”

“Scully-”

He was interrupted by another knock. “Mulder, you okay in there?” Frohike asked.

“Yeah,” He called out. “I’m just, uh, getting dressed.”

Scully opened his bedroom door again, catching a box as it started to fall. “Just try to make it quick,” She whispered, turning back to him. With a grimace, she reached up to smooth his hair down and wipe some lipstick from his mouth, having to stand on her tiptoes without heels on. Satisfied with her clean-up effort, she slipped into his room.

Once the door was shut behind her, Mulder tried to smooth down his own clothes and hair a bit before heading to the front door. The Gunmen pushed past him as soon as it was open.

“Mulder, you’ll never believe-”

“We just got the craziest-”

“We’ve got something you need to-”

“Boys!” Mulder interrupted them as all three tried to talk at the same time. “Look, don’t make yourselves comfortable, I have to leave soon.”

The three exchanged looks. “Jeez, Mulder,” Frohike said. “You just got out of the hospital. You already have another case?”

“Uh, no, I, uh,” He scratched the back of his head awkwardly, trying not to glance at his bedroom door.

Byers squinted at him. “What’s that on your neck?”

“Hm?” He drew his eyebrows up in his best look of innocence.

“Are those hickeys?” Langly tilted his head.

“Hickeys?” Mulder knitted his eyebrows together, then walked over to where his mirror sat on the wall and inspected his neck with a genuine look of surprise. Scully’s handiwork was nothing to sniff at. “Oh my God.”

“C’mon, Mulder,” Langly waved off Mulder’s reaction as if he didn’t believe him. “You got a girl over or something?”

“Yeah, right,” He gave him a dismissive look. “Like I found a girl to bring home within two hours of getting discharged.”

“Could’ve found someone at the hospital,” Frohike muttered.

“Agent Scully drove you home, didn’t she?” Byers asked.

He stiffened. “Yeah, why?”

“She didn’t notice them?”

Mulder turned back to the mirror to inspect them again in order to try and disguise his sigh of relief. “No, I guess not. Didn’t I have these when you guys found me?”

They exchanged uncertain looks. “I don’t...I don’t remember you having them,” Byers said.

“It was dark when we found you…” Frohike muttered.

“Did you get them from some 1930s babe?” Langly joked.

Seeing the opportunity, Mulder snapped his fingers and gave a slow nod as if he had just remembered. “That’s it. Yeah, this, uh, this girl pulled me into a closet at one point. I guess I forgot… You know, what with all the Nazi stuff happening right after.”

The three exchanged looks that were equal parts confused and impressed, seeming to believe him.

“Look, guys, I, uh,” Mulder gestured towards the door. “I told my mom I’d pay her a visit today, and I gotta go soon. Whatever this is, can it wait till tomorrow?”

All three shrugged. “I guess the queen’ll survive till then,” Langly said.

“The queen?” Mulder asked, then shook his head. He couldn’t let himself start this conversation. He started herding them towards the door. “I’m sure she’ll be fine. I’ll drop by tomorrow, okay?”

“Okay-”

“What time-”

“Bye-”

“Bye guys,” He smiled cheerfully and shut the door, then leaned against it with a sigh. He listened for the sound of them walking away before he stood up straight and headed towards the bedroom.

Scully didn’t look up from where she was delicately perched on a box, perusing a dusty Playboy. “Told you they’d be suspicious.”

He leaned against the doorframe. “I think I played it off well.”

She smirked up at him. “You mean your story about kissing some ‘babe’ from 1939? You’re lucky it was them who showed up and not Skinner. That wouldn’t have worked on anyone else.” She hopped up from the box and lightly tapped him with the Playboy before dropping it and moving past him, through the door.

“But I did kiss a babe from 1939, Scully,” He turned, watching her walk.

“Yeah?” She hung up her coat and dropped her shoes by the door. “Was she some tall, curvy blonde?” She smirked, her eyebrow cocked.

“Actually, she was a petite redhead who packed a punch.” He gestured towards his black eye.

It took her a second to register what he meant. “Wait, are you saying you kissed me in your hallucination? And I punched you?”

“It wasn’t a hallucination, Scully, I’ve got the shiner to prove it.”

She ducked her chin, giving him her signature look of disbelief. “Mulder, you could have gotten that from the fall. Or from something else, since you were on that ship for who knows how long.”

“I know exactly how I got it, Scully. I kissed you and then you punched me.”

“Is that so?” She cocked her brow again and moved closer to him, a playfulness in her eyes that he wished he saw more. “And what kind of kiss was it?”

A smile pulled at the corners of his mouth. “Are you asking for a demonstration?”

She shrugged with a short hum.

He gave a short chuckle, unable to believe they were having this conversation. “Well, uh, I believe I said something like ‘in case we never meet again.’” He moved closer to her.

“Mhm,” She nodded. “And then?”

With a grin, he grabbed her and pulled her in for a kiss the same way he had with 1939 Scully. Unlike that Scully, though, this one was a bit more receptive, relaxing into it and pulling him closer. It was so different and so much better than the one on the boat. After a long time, they pulled apart, both panting a bit.

“Like that?” She asked.

“Well,” He stuffed his hands in his pockets, suddenly feeling a bit shy. “It was a bit different. You were more into it than she was.”

“You’ll notice I haven’t punched you.”

“Yet,” He grinned, and she smiled back. They stayed like that for a few moments, then she licked her lips and ducked her head a bit awkwardly.

“So now I guess we…” She gave a slight grimace. “Need to talk.”

“Well, first I need to pee,” He pointed out. “I didn’t get my chance to do that. But after that, yeah.” He turned and headed towards the bathroom. “You hungry?”

“I’ll order food.”

---

They ordered Chinese takeout and sat on opposite ends of his couch as they ate. He’d also grabbed two beers from his fridge. Not wanting to stay in her skirt, she’d borrowed a pair of his sweatpants and sat with her knees curled up to her chest. He had one leg on the coffee table.

It was strange in its normalcy. They’d spent countless nights sitting in these spots, eating takeout that ranged from bad to mediocre and drinking beers. In a lot of ways, it felt the same as those nights. They were still Mulder and Scully, after all. It was easy — surprisingly easy — to simply sit together and eat Chinese food on his couch despite the fact that they’d had sex on it about an hour ago.

That part seemed a bit hard for Scully to reconcile with, judging by the look on her face as she stirred her cashew chicken around in its container, refusing to meet Mulder’s gaze. Her brain was whirring at high speeds now that the immediate afterglow had worn off and she was back at full capacity to start panicking.

Worried that she would retract into herself, or that she would come to the conclusion that it had been a mistake, Mulder nudged her foot with his knee to get her attention. “Hey.”

She looked up at him, and his face told her he knew what she was doing. Her face told him she was embarrassed about being caught.

“You okay?”

A hesitant nod. “Yeah…” She trailed off, staring back down at her food absentmindedly. “Yeah, it’s just- It’s a lot to process.”

Mulder nodded, knowing what she meant. Though the line between professional and friendly had always been blurred between them, the line between either of those and romantic had been drawn definitively. So much so that it was nearly a wall. For that wall to come crumbling down so suddenly, and without preparation, was a lot for either of them to process. Everything was different, and yet nothing was different. They were still them, and this change hadn’t erased the friendship and intimacy they’d built over the years. If anything, it magnified it. And perhaps that was why it was hard to come to terms with. Things felt the same that weren’t, and things felt different that shouldn’t be.

Noticing how he was eyeing her — as if sizing up a suspect who might try to run — Scully nodded emphatically. “I’m fine, Mulder. I’m not- I don’t regret it.”

He nodded back with a shy smile, holding in a sigh of relief. He wasn’t sure he’d survive it if she decided what they’d done was a mistake, if she wanted to write it off and act like it never happened despite how much it obviously meant to both of them.

They both agreed without needing to discuss it that this was something they should keep secret, at least for a while. Not their moms, not the Gunmen, and especially not Skinner.

“Nothing out in public,” She said around a mouthful of chicken, growing more and more relaxed as they talked. “Not on this side of town, at least.”

“Well, define ‘nothing,’ Scully, because we’re out a lot together as is.”

“Well, yeah,” She swallowed. “I’m not saying we can’t be in public together.” She smirked. “I just mean, like...no PDA.” After he snorted, she added, “And no funny business at work. Especially since we’re not in the basement office anymore.”

He raised his eyebrows with a smirk. “Are you saying you’d be into it if we were still in the basement?”

“What I’m saying is that we’re not isolated from other people anymore and we have to watch how we act at work.” She reached over and stole a piece of beef from his lo mein. “Strictly professional,” she said as she chewed.

“And what’s professional about stealing my food?”

“We’re not at work, are we?” She grinned.

He smiled back as he plucked another piece of beef from his container and dropped it in hers, trading it for a piece of her chicken. “I’m guessing that extends to cases, too.”

“Well, you know Bureau policy regarding two agents consorting in the same motel room,” she teased, taking a sip of her beer.

He chuckled, remembering that case from almost a year ago. More specifically, he remembered his half-out-of-it attempt at flirting by commenting about being naked in the same sleeping bag as a naked Scully. He remembered her protests as he asked her to sing, only to give in and gift him with his new favorite cover of “Joy to the World.” Missed notes and all.

“I was trying to fuck you that night, you know,” She muttered into her bottle, not looking at him.

His jaw fell open as he broke out of his reverie. “What? Really?”

“Mulder, I showed up at your room with wine and made a joke about Bureau policy even though we’ve been in each other’s rooms hundreds of times.” She gave him a look of incredulity.

He thought back, trying to remember that night. Was that really what happened? “Wh- I didn’t know.”

“Yeah, obviously,” She laughed. “You started ranting about” -she took a sip of her beer- “predators or something like that.”

“You’re serious.” It was a statement, but he meant it as a question. “You’re not pulling my leg?”

“Yeah, I was-” She cut off, smiling awkwardly. “I mean, I was still pretty fresh out of remission and feeling…” she shrugged with a sigh, staring down into her cashew chicken. “I don’t know. Spontaneous?” The question made it seem like she was hoping he could tell her. “I, uh, I thought the seminar would be a good opportunity to...try something, I guess. You know, being out of town without a real case to work on…” She trailed off again, looking a bit shy, then looked up at him with an enigmatic smirk. “My mistake for forgetting that X-Files seem to crop up wherever you go.”

At that moment, Mulder wished it hadn’t. He’d clung onto that X-File as an excuse to get out of the seminar since he loathed team-building and trust exercises. But if he’d known what the possibilities were…

“So that’s why you seemed suspiciously eager to attend that seminar,” he teased.

“I wouldn’t say eager,” she argued, looking slightly embarrassed. “Just not as...un-eager as you were.”

“Well,” Feeling bold, Mulder leaned over to murmur in her ear. “If I’d known what your intentions were, I might have been a bit more eager.” The last word came out as a low rumble.

He held back a grin of triumph when he saw her close her eyes and suppress a shiver. He’d always wondered what it would be like to tease Scully, to try and get her hot and bothered. It was thrilling not to have to hold back those impulses anymore.

She regarded him with the same look in her eyes she’d had earlier, just before she’d shoved him against the wall. It was a look he had the feeling he would never get enough of. Her gaze traveled down to his lips, then flicked back up, and he knew that if he didn’t move away now, their food would get cold and their beers would get warm.

He sat back and they were both silent for a few moments as they tried to calm back down. After a while, Scully spoke again, changing the subject. “I’d suggest something about how we should split spending nights at each other’s places, but one of us doesn’t have a bed.”

He lifted his head up. “What happened to your bed?”

She scrunched her nose in fake irritation and kicked out at him playfully. He leaned over and plucked a cashew from her container and she swiped another piece of beef while he was close.

They spent the rest of the night in easy camaraderie the way they often did, stealing each others’ food and drinking beer on his couch. Mulder turned on a movie, but later on neither would be able to remember which movie it was. They were too busy talking and laughing. The long built-up tension between them that they had just popped was deflating, and rather than being awkward around each other, it was easier.

Eventually, they accidentally fell asleep on his couch. Mulder laid behind Scully, his arms wrapped tight around her as if afraid that she would fall off if he let go. In the morning, when their backs were sore and their muscles stiff, they would agree that it had been a bad idea. But for now, they were laying together, dozing off in the company of the only other person either one would want to be with right now as the credits rolled.

---

For two people who’d been close for over five years, there were a surprising amount of firsts that were still to be had. Not just their first time, but other firsts. First night spent spooned on his couch. First night spent sleeping in her bed together. First meal cooked with the express intention of inviting him over, no needed preamble about a case in doing so.

First time making out on her couch while a movie played in the background. First morning waking up to see her bare back, decorated with freckles and the scars she’d accrued through the years. First evening spent curled up on his couch together, his arm draped over her shoulders and her head resting on his chest, as they contentedly watched reruns of a show. First time he let himself compliment her — really compliment her — and watch as the unfamiliar sentiment sent a rush of pink to her cheeks. First time she let herself trace the lines of his torso the way she’d wanted to ever since the first time she saw him shirtless.

While the sex was nothing to sniff at, the increased opportunities and causes for intimacy felt more monumental. They’d never been shy about personal space — and in fact seemed to cross that line more often than they probably should have — but this new permission, the new allowance to explore each other both physically and emotionally, the ability to learn even more about each other than they already knew, felt almost unreal at times.

Their first few fucks were just that — quick and rough fucks to release all the pent-up sexual energy that they’d built up together over the years. Neither of them minded this, both of the mindset that they’d get around to something more slow and intimate in due time.

When it happened, it wasn’t planned. Mulder — still not accustomed to not needing an excuse to see her — showed up on Scully’s doorstep one evening to ask her medical opinion on the autopsy reports of strange killings in Wisconsin. It was far from an X-File; even he could tell that they were ritualistic killings with no discrepancies in the autopsy reports. Scully took one look at the file, saw through his ruse, and asked him if he wanted to stay and watch a movie with her.

She opened a bottle of red wine and put on The Exorcist (she’d recently rented it for about the fiftieth time, for some reason unable to justify actually purchasing it despite it being one of her favorite movies). They sat on her couch — at first on opposite ends, then eventually shifting so that she could curl into him. They drank and talked more than paid attention to the movie. Both of them had seen it multiple times, after all.

Mulder asked about her love for the movie. She revealed that — other than the initial thematic appeal to her Catholic upbringing — she’d always had a certain fascination with horror movies. Not the ones full of senseless gore or nudity, of course, but the ones that had real suspense and were actually scary. Or the ones that were about something real on a thematic level.

“No kidding.” He hummed in slight disbelief. “I can’t believe I never knew that about you.” He’d always thought The Exorcist was some sort of exception for her.

“No, I’ve always loved horror movies,” she insisted, taking a sip of her wine (second glass). “I even, um-” She giggled, and the rareness of the sound always made it seem like music to his ears. “It’s silly, but as a kid I would pride myself on the fact that I could ‘handle’ them better than my sister. It was a lie, of course,” she twisted her head from its position on his chest to look up at him. “I had my own nightmares.”

He chuckled, mildly wondering if that was the source for her compartmentalization abilities. “What was your first horror movie?”

“Mmm,” she hummed around her sip of wine. “The Birds. I don’t know if it’s technically horror, but watching Tippi Hedren get terrorized by those birds was pretty scary for a ten-year-old.”

“You were ten?”

She nodded, then nudged at his glass, indicating for him to catch up with her. “Yeah, my, uh- My dad and Bill were watching it one night and I joined in. Ahab didn’t think of it as scary, but…” She trailed off with a stifled giggle. “Well, I was ten. I didn’t let them know I was scared, of course.” She looked up at him with a pseudo-serious expression. “I didn’t want Bill to make fun of me.”

He smiled down at her after taking a sip of his wine. “You still like the movie?”

“Mhm.” She nestled her head back into his chest.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen it.”

“Well, then I’ll have to show it to you one day.”

He smiled again — unseen by her — and felt a warmth spread through his chest the way it always did when she shared something about herself with him. Scully had such a tendency to be closed off, to adamantly refuse to let other people see her vulnerabilities, that she even held back from sharing seemingly trivial information. But in this past couple of weeks, she’d become more and more loose-lipped, sharing stories from her childhood and talking about things she liked that he couldn’t believe he didn’t know about at this point in their relationship. It was amazing seeing her walls lower just a bit more with each passing day.

“What other horror movies do you like?” He asked, desperate to know more about this side of her.

She hummed in thought. “Well, Hitchcock tends to lean more towards thriller than horror, but I like most of his movies. Uh, I actually liked Nightmare On Elm Street. Not a big fan of Friday the Thirteenth.” She shrugged. “Thought it was boring. Ummm… Oh! Scream, Poltergeist, Halloween, Suspiria-”

“You like Suspiria?” He asked. “Isn’t that mostly gore?”

She shrugged again. “Yeah, but...I don’t know. I like the aesthetic of it.”

He shook his head in disbelief, taking another sip of wine. From what he remembered of that movie, the “aesthetic” was more of an assault on the senses. “You continue to surprise me.”

She giggled again, and he found himself determined to figure out how to always say the right thing that would cause her to do so. “I also liked Alien,” she mumbled into her wine glass.

He had to pull away in astonishment at that, regarding her with disbelief. “You’re kidding me, right?”

She stifled a laugh. “No, I did,” she insisted, her grin wide and uninhibited due to the alcohol.

“You’re telling me you’ll accept aliens in a movie but not in real life?”

“Mulder, that’s the point.” She tried to give him her serious argument face, but she was still smiling. “It’s not real. It’s not supposed to be. Makes for a good horror scenario, though,” she added.

“Oh, and here I thought you were just in it for Sigourney Weaver.”

“Well, that was definitely a bonus.”

They drank and chatted and occasionally paid attention to the movie until the bottle was empty and the credits began. After turning the TV off, Scully turned to look up at him with an expression that was unfamiliar to him. It wasn’t lust and it wasn’t affection, but some weird, calm mixture of the two. It was just as compelling, though, and he found himself leaning down to her as if magnetized. They’d had this kind of kiss before. Slow, sweet, tender. It usually didn’t lead to anything, reserved for nights when they laid in bed, too tired from the day to commit to anything sexual but still wanting the intimacy that they both craved.

This one was different, though, as her lips parted, inviting him in. Not in the insistent, eager way that she often did, but as a gentle invitation. He accepted it with just as much gentleness, letting himself take more time than usual to explore her. His hand went first to cup her jaw, then ran through her hair and down her neck, tracing her spine in its descent down her body. He felt her goosebumps where her shirt had risen up on her torso as her kiss deepened and her hand traced him in the other direction, starting at his knee and moving up his leg, bypassing his crotch and instead running under his shirt, tracing up his abs to his chest. She took a moment to let her nails gently scratch him before settling her hand on his shoulder, pulling him even closer to her.

The slow, tender movements stirred something in him in a different way than the passionate, insistent gropes and touches. He wasn’t sure how long they spent like this, simply making out and exploring each other with their hands until they finally, breathlessly pulled apart.

They stared at each other with mirrored expressions, catching their breath, until Scully finally stood up and offered a hand to him. He took it without hesitation, standing and following her to her bedroom where he knew he would take just as much time as he wanted to touch her, to trace her, to explore her and learn more about her body and what she liked than he already knew. And she would do the same with him until eventually, finally, they would come undone together like they always did. But it would be different this time, in a way that would be difficult for either of them to describe.

---

Dating in secret was surprisingly easy.

Since most people considered them attached at the hip, no one questioned why they spent time together. At work, nothing seemed different save for a nearly-imperceptible dissipation of a certain kind of tension between them, and no one who worked at the desks around them in the bullpen paid enough attention to notice that. They were actually glad that they weren’t working directly under Skinner for the time being; both were worried that he was too perceptive not to notice the change between them.

Scully’s mom visited her apartment once without notice while Mulder was there, and for a second they thought they had been caught. But she’d just assumed he was there for work and asked about their current case (they had to make something up).

The two had even managed to go on a date without realizing it. Mulder was complaining at work about none of the Gunmen being able to see a newly released movie with him, and Scully had shrugged and said she would see it with him, since she’d done so before. They even made plans to go to dinner beforehand.

They were halfway through their meal when Scully stopped and looked up with wide eyes. “Wait a minute. Are we on a date right now?”

He met her gaze and it took him a minute to really register what she’d said. He snorted and they both broke out in laughter.

“Oh my God,” She said after calming down, her hand instinctively covering her smile. “We’re so bad at this.”

“We’re just...out of practice,” He corrected. “And we have different standards than other people; it’s not like we haven’t done this exact thing without it being a date. And, I mean, I don’t know many other people who have sex before the first date.”

She smiled. “I don’t know many people who say ‘I love you’ before having sex for the first time. Besides,” She took a sip of her wine. “I wouldn’t call this our first date.”

“Oh, yeah?” He asked, intrigued. “What would you say our first date was, then?”

“In hindsight?” She propped her elbows on the table and folded her hands together, thinking. “Hmm. That time I followed you to the Smithsonian to talk to that scientist.”

He blinked. That early? “You mean when you stood up Rick?”

“Rob.”

“Rob, right.” He nodded. “Can’t believe you were smitten with me that early,” He teased.

She sat up straight, an indignant look on her face. “I never said that.”

“‘First date’ implies that you were into me at that point.”

“No, I-” She folded her arms on the table. “I just meant that that was the first thing we did together that wasn’t about work.”

“It was kind of about work.”

“Fine then,” She leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms. “When do you say our first date was?”

He gave a devilish grin. “That night in the cemetery. During our first case.”

Her eyebrows shot up in disbelief. “You mean when we were standing in the rain and the mud with those empty graves?” She sounded doubtful. “Not what I’d call romantic.”

“It was your laugh,” He said softly, and she realized he was looking at her with an openly infatuated smile that made her face burn. “The way you laughed so freely after opening yourself up to extreme possibilities. I don’t think I’ve really seen you laugh like that since then.”

She thought about that night. Everything had been so new, so ludicrous. As the years had passed, there had been less and less to laugh about regarding their jobs.

She drew in a self-conscious breath, still not used to him complimenting her so openly and sincerely. “I wouldn’t call laughing a date.” She took a sip of her wine.

“I was going off my criteria.”

“Which is?”

“I already told you. ‘First date’ implies that I was smitten with you by that point.”

She blinked, trying to suppress a shy smile. That early? She cleared her throat. “I’m surprised that the part where I showed up at your room in nothing but a robe and underwear wasn’t your pick,” She joked, taking a bite of her salmon.

“Well…” He tilted his head, recalling it. “That was a pretty good moment. There’s a reason I sat on the floor at the foot of the bed.” He smirked as if trying to tease her.

She licked her lips and raised one eyebrow, giving him a knowing look.

His smile faded with realization. “Wait a minute. Were you trying to fuck me then, too?”

She refused to meet his gaze as a wide grin slowly split her face. “I mean…”

“Dana Katherine Scully,” He shook his head with a slight smile. “You are unbelievable. You lied to me.”

She took a sip of her wine, still not looking at him. “No, listen. I was actually scared about the mosquito bites. But all I’m saying is that it would have been easy for me to put my clothes back on before going to your room and just lift my shirt for you to inspect it.”

“And what if they had actually been the same marks that those kids had?”

She took another sip. “Well, then I would have had bigger problems.”

“I can’t believe this.” He shook his head and looked off into the distance thoughtfully. “I had to try my damndest to keep a respectful distance from you that night.”

“Well, that was your decision.”

“Maybe if you hadn’t been wearing the Hanes briefs, I would have made a different decision.”

“I couldn’t be too obvious, Mulder.”

“Well, if you had, maybe you would’ve gotten laid.”

“I did get laid,” She said, draining the last of her wine. “It was just about six years too late, is the thing.”

He snorted as the waiter brought by the check — singular. Throughout their partnership, restaurant employees had constantly assumed they were dining together in a single-check sort of manner. Early on, they had agreed to take turns paying whenever this happened. It was easier and faster than asking the waiter to fix it.

“Any other missed opportunities I had that you wanna tell me about?” He asked.

She ate her last bite of salmon and chewed thoughtfully. “Well...it wasn’t you, technically, but I was heavily considering it before I found out it was Eddie van Blundht that one time.”

“That’s it, Scully, you’re paying.”

“Well, yeah, it’s my turn.” She grabbed the check, giggling. She was a little wine-tipsy after two glasses.

The movie was nothing to write home about, but the dark theater provided them an opportunity to be more intimate in a public setting. Their hands were intertwined the whole time and Scully’s head rested on his shoulder throughout most of the movie. At one point, he thought she’d fallen asleep and leaned forward to check, only to see her meet his gaze questioningly.

It was their version of a honeymoon phase. They were both happier than they’d been in a while and could barely keep their hands off of each other when they were in private (they had a lot of catching up to do, after all). Mulder started staying over at her apartment so much that she had to clear out more room in her closet for him (she’d already had a few of his clothes in there for emergency situations). They also spent the occasional night at his apartment, despite the fact that they always woke up sore and regretful after spooning in an immovable position on his couch for six to eight hours. Scully always said she’d never do it again, but then she always did.

“Mulder, how the hell have you slept on this thing for years?” She asked one morning, sitting up and cracking her neck.

“Well, it’s not as bad when someone else isn’t taking up half the space.” He grinned cheekily up at her, still laying down.

She gave him a look. “Oh, you mean so you can go-” she mimicked the way he crossed his arms over his chest like a dead person in a coffin, even closing her eyes to feign sleep.

He laughed, nudging her with his knee.

“I can’t imagine that’s much better for your back,” She said as she dropped her arms. “You need a bed, Mulder. Or else your fish are going to suffer from your lack of presence.”

“Oh, well in that case.” He sat up and wrapped his arms around her from behind, nuzzling her neck with his nose. “I wouldn’t want the mollies to suffer.”

She hummed a laugh that quickly turned to a short moan as his lips traveled her neck with intent. After a few moments, she turned around and pushed him back down on the couch. They gave the mollies a show.

#kai.fic #x files #xf fic #msr fic #timing fic

95 notes · View notes

harrieatthemet · 5 years

Text

Other Mama II

in which you pack a bag and Harry has a tough pill to swallow.

FUUUUUUUUUCK

He’d been waiting for it.

It’s why he kept his phone on him, at all times, waiting for it to vibrate or ring. He slept with it next to his bed, kept it by the sink when he’d shower. It was glued to his hand when he’d leave the house, because he’d beat himself up if you called and he missed it.

But he’d been waiting for it, for this; the lock on the door twisting and the sound of keys jiggling on the other side. The sound of a car door, from the driveway just outside his window, was enough of an invitation to lull him from upstairs and into the foyer.

An opportunity to talk; explain what had transpired, what took place under your roof when you left, why he did what he did. Surely you’d want a reason. You’d have to want to talk eventually, and maybe you needed space. That’s what he’s told himself the past 3 days you were out of the house. But your back now, foot halfway through the door. A weight is lifted off his shoulders and as gritty as the conversation may be, you’re here now and it’s time to have it.

“Hey,” his voice lilts sweetly in a coo as he locks eyes with the baby, who’s tailing behind you, “was missin’ yeh so bad.”

He can almost feel his heart still in his chest when he loops an arm around her, tugging her into torso so she could rope him into a hug. She’s still so small; her body meshes well with his and his heart almost bursts every time she wraps her arms around his neck.

But the blissfulness of angel baby’s embrace is promptly ripped out from under him when you fully immerse yourself into the room, duffle bags in tow, lips in a thin line as you look at angel baby. You’re looking at angel baby, not him.

“Lovie,” he murmurs, and she glances at you before directing her attention back to him, “think there’s a mess in th’playroom y’need t’clean, yeah?”

He can see the perplexity scribbled on her pudgy face, her eyes flickering helplessly between you and Harry. It’s almost as if she’s hesitant to go, nervous to leave the two of you here. He’s got no idea what she knows, if it’s anything at all; doesn’t know what you had told her, how you explained the abrupt departure from the house or why you’d returned today with empty traveling bags.

She does dredge off, sneakily peeking over her shoulder about halfway down the hall before disappearing into the playroom; she keeps the door open, though.

“Came back.” He sighs, almost like he's riddled with relief.

Your eyes stare past him, bags hanging loosely in your hand as you take a deep breath. He still finds it off-putting, uneasy and blood curdling that you can’t write look him in the eye yet. But you’re back, you're here, that’s a step in the right direction, isn’t it?

It isn’t, because you walk right past him, shoes clicking against the marble of the floor as you head down the hall and past the kitchen.

He considered, only briefly, letting you go off on your own for a bit to cool off. You’re mad, he understands; you deserve to be. He’s created a disastrous mess, of epic proportions, which allows him to understand your perspective.

He doesn’t let you go off. Instead, he follows, picking up the pace a bit as he hears your shoes hit the steps. Because you’re going upstairs, with bags, empty ones at that, and it’s very clearly not a good sign.

And it’s an even worse sign when he sees clothes, a good portion of yours, in a heap on the made up bed of your shared room. Dresses, work clothes, pants and other assortments of your things lay sporadically across your bed before your hand grabs at them to stuff it all into your bag.

“No, no, no,” his eyes widen, studying the display splayed out in front of him. “what are y’doing?”

With your hair in your face, head down and gaze averted from him, you roll your eyes. A shale of the head is soon to follow, before a sharp breath ensues. Your jittery, nerves making your hands shake and stomach flip as he groans behind you.

“Not yet,” he insists, “not yet, yeah? Can we talk about it, first? Can y’try tha’?”

“How long?”

He’s still stuck staring at the back of your head, and maybe that’s for the best. He can feel his heart lurch out of his chest before the lump taking up majority of his throat appears. How long? Of course he knows how long, but that’s why he wished you hadn’t asked.

“Y’don’t wanna-”

“You wanted to talk about it,” you remind him, hands resting on one of your work shirts, “so we’re talking about it. How long?”

“Dunno,” his palms are getting sticky and his brain is failing him; he almost doesn’t wanna say, “long, 10 months maybe.”

There’s a beetling stinging sensation streaming throughout his body, starting at his chest and following down the backs of his legs as you let out a bitter laugh before you throw another shirt in your bag.

It’s hard to watch. There’s a prominent swell of his throat as you tug a few more things off hangers, silently disappearing into the closet empty handed only to come back out with exuberant amounts of clothing articles thrown over your arms.

He doesn’t want you to go. He hadn’t fully thought of the repercussions during his unfaithful excursion. It didn’t occur to him during the entirety of it, playing house with another woman, that you’d leave; that you’d collect your things and go off like you’d never lived here before. And he knows angel baby’s room is just two doors down. Once you’re finished here, you’ll likely move to her room and collect her things. He’s realizing that he’s gone and robbed himself of that, too.

“Don’t love her,” he confesses, though it’s laughably useless, “maybe tha’ helps, I dunno.”

“It doesn’t.”

“Well are y’fucking gonna ask me why I did it?”

He swallows hard again when you take a break from shoving clothes into a bag. You still won’t fucking look at him. You physically can't seem to bring yourself to; can’t see his face, cannot look at it. If you do, you’re sure all you’ll see is the smirk on his lips upon the seductive touch of another woman’s hands. Just thinking about it makes your skin crawl and your stomach churn in distaste.

You don’t ask, maybe because you don’t wanna know why. A reason won’t make it any better, only worse perhaps. But you look at him anyways, forcing yourself. Your expression is tired, like you’re silently begging him to just let you be. As tough as you care to make yourself out to be, like you’re handling this is as well as possible, you know once the door to the car closes you’ll likely submit to the few tears that threatened their presence as you shuffled through dresses in the closet a few minutes prior.

He takes it upon himself, anyways, to tell you why.

“Were always gone,” he breathes out, like he’d been holding it in for the past 3 days, “I’d come home, and you’d take off th’next day. Was nice t’have someone to fill tha’ void, I guess. It was really hard fo’ me.”

“It was hard for you?” you repeat, to which he nods vigorously in agreement.

He’s got your attention fully now, your eyes wide and expression livid and he’s starting to feel like maybe he didn’t really want it at after all. It’s obvious that you’ve surpassed mad, he’s never really seen you like this and it’s almost unnerving. But he thinks that being reprimanded is better than being ignored, better than nothing, and at this point he’ll take anything he can get. By the look on your face, how it’s twisted in disgust and your eyes are glazed over in detestation, he’s come to accept that it will definitely be a reprimanding. It’s better than being ignored.

“You’re gone for weeks,” you exhale, “months, even, and a couple days with me away is hard for you?”

“Well yeah,” he sighs when he watches you fold one of the baby’s shirts, “but y’missing th’point.”

“I don’t give a fuck about your point.”

You don’t, and regardless of how you very bluntly made him aware of that, your stand offish aura and the way you still can’t seem to look him in the eyes was more than sufficient.

A sharp breath is sucked in when you still keep your lips pursed tightly together, the bleak silence in the room momentarily occupied by the sound of your bag zippering shut. Because now there’s only one bag left to tend to, left to fill, and you waste no time in snatching it off the floor before maneuvering past him with your head down.

As obvious as your body language might be, telling him that you’re not that interested in pursuing this conversation and you’re certainly not keen on him following you into the baby’s room, he does it anyways. He does it anyways and walks practically a step behind you, though careful not to literally step on your heels.

“Please don’t do this,” and apparently he’s not above begging, at this point, either, “s’gonna break m’heart if yeh take her.”

“And listening to the child I carried for nine months calling the woman you’re fucking in my bed her other mother,” you snap, “that didn’t break mine?”

It’s no use responding. Either way, he wouldn’t know how. He can almost feel his face hit the floor, his heart actually fall into his stomach when you start packing away the teeny pajama tucked in angel baby’s drawer. Watching you pack a bag was difficult, no doubt, but this was a hard pill to swallow.

No more evening baths, no more dolls after lunch. He can’t remember the last time he’d eaten breakfast alone, being playfully reprimanded when his fork teasingly nudged the waffles on her plate. But even after being told to stop, she always shared. He’s realizing he’ll have to come home to an empty house, now.

“Don’t know what t’say,” he croaks, “wanna fix this, (Y/N), ‘ll do anything.”

“What’s wrong with you?” and now you’re shouting, “There’s nothing you could say to make this work!”

He didn’t think he’d feel the urge to cry. And he truly was stupid enough to think that maybe, by some form of a fucking miracle, he’d manage to persuade you into changing your mind. Clearly, he was wrong. His aspirations have fallen short and shriveled up right in front of him, especially when you zip the baby’s bag closed before brushing past him out of the room.

“And there’s fucking nothing you could do to change my mind.”

It doesn’t stop him from babbling on, though. He’s sure he’s made an utter fool of himself, not that he really minds. He’s very much surpassed desperate, so much so he’s not even sure what exactly it is he’s feeling right now. He’s aching, his entire body is aching, his mouth pleading with you as he begs. You won’t budge, back to him as you take a couple deep breaths on your way down the stairs.

You want to scream at him, wanna tell him that you’ve truly heard enough and that you’ve started tuning him out about 5 minutes ago. And you would, if she wasn’t standing right there.

Sure enough, she had heard the noise traveling down from upstairs. It’s most likely why she’d crept her away down the front entrance hallway, why she was lurking around the corner of the kitchen, her head discreetly poking out to ensure she could hear as much as she could possibly bring herself to listen to.

“C’mon,” you sigh, hand out to intercept her smaller one, “we’re gonna go, okay?”

She takes it reluctantly, her eyes scanning Harry. She doesn’t understand, she’s too little. Why is he about to cry? Why is he begging you? For a minute, she thinks it’s her, she thinks she may have done this. But she takes your hand anyway, squeezing it tighter when Harry shrills your name a little bit louder this time. And his voice carries, growing louder, especially when you get to the door.

“Let her stay,” he asks in a last ditch attempt, voice cracking slightly, “(Y/N) please, m’beggin’ yeh.”

Her eyes are wide because she’s not sure what’s taking place. She doesn’t know why she’s being toted out of the house, why Harry’s begging her to stay or why you’ve got a decently sized bag oozing with a large portion of her clothes. And you’re halfway out the door when he feels like he might throw up, frowning as angel baby walks halfway to the car, looking back at Harry with eyes identical to is, lifting his hand to wave goodbye.

“Bye daddy.”

974 notes · View notes

fckinev · 4 years

Text

English Love Affair (calum hood x reader)

*in the last week i have listened to english love affair more times than should be allowed and i don’t doubt amazon music is very worried about me, but dear goodness the things i would let calum hood do to me are RIDICULOUS. also sorry i’m posting AGAIN this week, i like writing here because no-one actually knows me n it’s less pressure to write well lol

summary - your band is opening for 5sos and it’s the final night of touring with them. over the year you’ve been planning and actually touring with the other band, you and calum had gotten insanely close to the point you developed feelings. and right before the tour started, calum told you he felt exactly the same way. you lived your relationship through secret meetings, not even telling your bandmates. but tonight, people are going to know, calum’s making sure of it

warnings - not a warning as such, but you’re english in this for context! otherwise, just implied sex and swear words :)

length - pretty short! it won’t take long for you to read, like ten minutes max

personal thoughts - honestly i have none. head empty for all but calum*

“No, Ellie’s right,” Shreya says, spinning her chair around to face you, “This really is your last chance.” Her makeup is only halfway done - her left eye is intricately decorated and defined, her right completely bare - but she still manages to make you take her seriously. You shake your head and roll your eyes, getting off the dressing table to collapse on the sofa. The prep room in Sydney is your favourite of all the prep rooms you’ve been in the last few months. You hate to think that this is the last prep room you’re going to be in for at least a year - you’ve been exhausted this whole time but you don’t want the tour to end.

“Actually I think I’m right, I will have other chances than this.” You state, throwing your legs over the arm of the sofa so Ellie will play with your hair. Shreya tuts and turns back to her mirror, picking up a palette and starting on the other eye. That was one thing your band was adamant remained - Shreya was allowed to do her own makeup, Ellie could do your hair and if you didn’t like the clothes they suggested you just wouldn’t wear them. When you were laying those conditions out, Luke laughed. Not cruelly, but in admiration. You were still a pretty small band at the time but you were willing to completely abandon this opportunity if it meant you couldn’t do it your way.

Ellie sighs. “Y/N, we’re saying this with love, you won’t. After this tour, there’s no real reason to keep hanging out with him. Sure, you can ask to go to lunch with him or invite him to a party or something but it won’t feel the same. Like, come on, we’ve seen the way you look at each other. That electricity is going to fucking fizzle the second we go home, mark my words.”

You almost feel bad that you haven’t told either of them what’s going on - little do they know, that electricity is going to continue to do its thing for the next three months that you’re spending with Calum at his house. He suggested it tentatively in Los Angeles, sat on the roof of the hotel you were staying in with a blanket wrapped around the both of you, and you instantly told him you could imagine nothing more perfect. He looked so happy when you said that you couldn’t help but kiss him, the first time you had done so somewhere that wasn’t a locked room. He didn’t hesitate to return it. But you know what they’re like in interviews - they’ll tell anyone anything without being prompted, they have never once kept a secret. Their logic is that if everyone knows everything about you guys no-one can expose you, but Jimmy Fallon did not ask about the time Shreya started her period while going commando with a skirt on and bled all over a car park without realising and he definitely didn’t want to know. A secret relationship would be outed in the first minute, you’re sure of it.

“And if you do want to hang out with him, even for a couple hours, you’re going to have to be on a plane for two whole days. You understand that, right? A whole day there and back on a fucking aeroplane just to shyly flirt with this guy for a little while. But if you start a relationship with him, right, you can stay here for a bit, you’ve got a reason to. That means you can actually, like, live out the I’m-dating-Calum-Hood fantasy. And even if he says no, you live on opposite sides of the world, it’s not like you’re going to awkwardly bump into each other. Now is the perfect time to tell him!” Shreya says, doing her eyeliner in one sleek movement. You smile and shake your head again.

“I’m staying here anyway, we’re gonna get food with Ashton and his girlfriend on Friday.”

Ellie stops playing with your hair and Shreya freezes, both of them staring at you intently.

“My aunt lives here, my mum says we should spend some time together before she dies.”

Shreya snorts.

“That’s what she said?” Ellie asks, giggling.

“Not exactly, but yeah, that’s what she said.”

“Well, I’ll stay here with you so you don’t get bored with her. I’m not ready to go home yet.” Shreya offers, finishing her makeup with immaculate lipstick before sitting on the armchair opposite the sofa.

“NO, no, don’t.”

Shreya looks justifiably offended and you sigh.

“I just mean that... I want to take this time to spend with family and stuff, you know? I haven’t seen her since I was, like, ten, I miss her.”

That part is true, but your aunt who lives here is actually perfectly healthy and your age. She probably won’t be dying any time soon.

“What about practice?” Ellie asks, tapping your head so you’ll sit up.

“FaceTime.”

“And demos? Full offence to Apple, FaceTime doesn’t do you justice, we can’t record stuff over FaceTime.”

You pause. “I can send you voice clips. I’ll buy myself a proper microphone if I have to.”

Ellie hesitates. “What about us?”

You giggle, tapping her arm teasingly. “What are you, obsessed with me?”

Shreya rolls her eyes. “Well, we’ll miss you. The flight won’t be nearly as entertaining without someone to draw on.”

“Draw on each other, I wouldn’t let you draw on me again anyway.”

Before Shreya can reply, the door opens. It’s Calum. He’s sweating yet still looks so good you could lose your mind. The outfit you helped him choose suits him just as perfectly as you promised him it would, but he still glances at you for approval like he can’t tell. He blushes instantly when you wink at him and covers it with a smile.

“Luke wants to talk to you guys before you go on,” he tells you all, “Something about the end of the set.”

“You know,” Shreya says, “I don’t actually think we all need to be there for that. Do you know what it is yet, C?”

“Kinda, but-”

Shreya claps her hands for silence (a habit that works unfortunately well) before standing and pulling Ellie up with her. “Well then, you quickly tell Y/N then you can keep talking about what you’re going to do together while she’s here while Luke gives us the long version, okay? Okay!”

And the pair goes running out of the room, dashing down the hall while giggling like they’ve done something subtle. Calum takes a backward glance at them before closing the door, smirking. “It’s really sweet that they’re still trying to get us together.”

“Trust me,” you laugh, pulling him to stand in the V of your legs, “It’s annoying. They keep telling me today’s my ‘last chance to do something’.”

Calum smiles, lacing his fingers with yours. “Well in that case, you wanna do something?”

“Like what? You know I like you.”

He quirks his eyebrow at you and you realise what he means. “Ahhh... how much time have we got?”

He checks his watch. “Enough.”

“No, c’mon, tell me properly, I wanna know the pace.” You say, instantly giggling afterwards. He laughs too.

“An hour until you go on.”

“I can get ready in twenty minutes and I’m gonna have to make excuses for Ellie and Shreya but I’ll meet you in your dressing room in ten minutes.”

“The things we can do in half an hour.” Calum grins, winking exaggeratedly. You laugh and kiss his lips quickly, picking up your phone and starting to walk away.

“You’d better be there before me. I’m not gonna wait around for you.”

“Trust me, I’m gonna run the whole way there.” He assures you, sneaking a kiss before living up to his promise and careering toward his changing room. You smile fondly and start running to find Shreya and Ellie. The sooner you get back to him the better.

***

From the closed-off section you watch the band from, you can fully take in the sheer size of the crowd. When you sang earlier, you just tried not to focus on it because you didn’t want to throw yourself off but now, safely out of the woods, you acknowledge how fucking many people are here right now. They’re screaming and chanting the lyrics and filming dutifully but the guys aren’t at all fazed. They know how to work the audience, use the space, own the moment. This is the only night Shreya isn’t taking dutiful notes - she wants to improve the performance of your band and she isn’t willing to pay to see a concert, this tour has been good for you all in more ways than one.

The best part is the way Calum searches for you, no matter how focused he’s supposed to be on the song. A quick head turn to sneak a look, fully turning to wink or teasingly mimic biting (you were putting makeup on your neck until the minute you went on), walking closer to the edge of the stage just to be closer to you. Ellie points out every glance to you like you’re somehow missing it (he is extremely blatant for someone who doesn’t want to have a public relationship) and you giggle innocently in response. He beams the whole performance and you feel responsible.

“Y/N, quit ogling him for five seconds, we’ve gotta go.” Shreya says, tugging your arm. You keep your eyes on him for as long as you can, then run after Ellie and Shreya. Luke told them about the end of the set and they relayed it to you before you found Calum; all you have to do is go on and sing one of their songs with them. They didn’t tell you which one but you know every single song they have off by heart, it’s not a problem.

When Luke has reintroduced you, you come onstage to embrace him quickly, ask the audience how they are, laugh at the indefinable scream and adjust your outfit. The dress is really pretty, but it rides up constantly for no real reason.

“You all probably know that this is our last concert of the tour,” Luke starts, pausing to let everyone make assorted sad noises. You glance at Calum and wink when you see him watching, making him blush and look down at his bass, “And the experience we’ve had with the girls has been one of the best we could’ve wished for, so it’s only fair we do our very last song together. But before we do, please make some noise for them, they-”

He doesn’t bother finishing over the screeching, knowing he won’t be heard, but you blow a kiss and mock a curtsy. Ellie quickly squeezes your hand and you look back.

“It’s English Love Affair,” she whispers, “That’s what we’re doing. Calum picked it.”

You instantly turn your head to look at him, watching him fuck around with his bass again before he catches your eye. You mouth the name of the song, smirking a little, and he shrugs coyly.

“Way to be subtle.” You mouth, shaking your head.

“Just thought it was time to tell people.” He mouths back. You roll your eyes fondly, then look back to the crowd when Ashton starts drumming.

Luke takes the first verse but you come in on the chorus, harmonising with him and trying to work the audience the same way he does. Clearly, it works - they go insane for you, and you glow.

When it gets to the second verse, you work your way over to Calum, careful that it looks natural, like you’re still just performing and not trying to get close to him. You’ve never been the most rhythmic dancer but you do what you can and make it as teasing as you can. He fucks up and you smile proudly before you make your way back to Luke.

“She’s all I ever think about...” Luke sings, pointing at you jokingly.

“Kissing in the rain...” You point back and wink. The rest of the song is finished, though you can hardly even hear yourself over the crowd and you cheer when they do, screaming a little in surprise when confetti canons go off even though you knew they would. When you’ve hugged Luke, tight because you both need to let off a little nervous energy, you turn around to instantly see Calum’s face.

“I thought kissing in the rain was our thing.” He jokes and you giggle.

“Nobody goes for the bassist, they always prefer the singer.” You tease back. You expect an eye roll, a light swat to your arm, a quick quip.

But instead, he kisses you, right in front of that huge crowd.

They’re so loud your ears pop but you kiss him back (if you’re going to do it, do it right), the distinct sound of Ellie and Shreya screaming in sync just about definable from the rest of the screeches.

“If they knew the bassist kissed like that, I don’t think they would.”

#5sos #5sos fic #calum imagine #calum hood #five seconds of summer #reader insert #fanfic #calum x reader

6 notes · View notes

chosenkeepersworld · 4 years

Text

Callum❤Morgan

Original Work Work Count: 4,521 words Date posted: 09/30/20 Author’s Note: Unbeta’d but I hope you guys still like it and as always every comment and critique is appreciated.

Morgan groaned as she brought the last box into her dorm room. she assessed her living situation seeing the two beds were still empty making it clear that her roommate had not yet arrived.

College was definitely something Morgan had been looking forward to. She loved living with her mother at the ranch but she was excited for a change in scenery. She was ready for something new.

However there would always be a kind of sadness that would never leave, after all Morgan never thought of going through the high milestones in her life without her other half.

But now was not the time to dwell on what was not here.

Morgan began pulling out her things, intent on setting up her side of the room before her roommate's arrival. And like she always did when she was doing any kind of work. Morgan began to hum. Many of the songs that would get stuck in her head were often from video games, anime or her favorite series.

Halfway through, she could hear another voice joining in, one that was distinctly male. Morgan gasped immediately straightening and turning but only found an open and empty doorway. The brunette quickly peeked out into the hall, checking to see if there was anyone still lingering, but all she could see were students going up and down the hall and in and out of their rooms. There was no one shooting sly glances toward her.

She moved back into her room, shutting the door this time, and continued her work.

It was still a little early for Morgan's next class, but the room was empty and the brunette wanted to get a good seat. It was a habit she never shook off, being early for things made a good impression, and a good impression was something Morgan wanted to last.

She wasn't going to college just for herself after all.

But since there was still time before class…

Morgan quickly pulled her laptop out of her bag and checked on the news for upcoming games that she was waiting for as well as news from the developers she followed, as she read through the comments she unconsciously began humming another song from a game she had been playing. She was so engrossed in her task that she did not notice someone had entered the room.

Her humming was then accompanied by another, a deeper clearly male voice. Morgan's head snapped towards the sound to see a boy, her age, sitting across the aisle from her. He had short, shaggy, dark curls that fell in his forehead. His bright blue amused eyes stared at her from behind a set of wide rimmed glasses. He gave her a sheepish smile.

Heat crept up Morgan's cheeks, causing her to look away in embarrassment. She wasn't doing anything wrong but the way he looked at her...

Morgan returned her laptop to her bag, still looking away from him, brought out her planner and started writing in it until class began.

And during it, she found out his name.

Callum

"I'll have fun" The brunette swore as her roommate led her into the sorority house later that evening.

"And I will make sure that you do" Carissa grinned as they passed the bouncer at the door. Her older sister was part of the sorority the party was held in allowing Carissa a few advantages.

You would have never expected a girl like Carissa, clearly rich, well connected and stunningly attractive, to dorm. Imagine Morgan's surprise when her roommate came in wearing designer clothes, her hair styled and a man carrying about a dozen bags trailing behind her.

The brunette tensed when Carissa moved her sunglasses to the top of her head and surveyed the room before landing on Morgan. A great, wide smile spread across her face before she dropped her things and rushed at Morgan to give her the biggest, tightest hug she’d received so far.

“I’m so excited to meet you” Carissa squealed

“Nice to meet you too” Morgan wheezed

It didn’t take long for both girls to become friends, mostly due to Cari’s charisma and determination to include Morgan in every activity she could think of.

When Cari got invited it was the perfect opportunity to bring Morgan, who had been reading advanced material studiously for the past week. Carissa was determined to make sure Morgan had fun after what Cari considered was a "hard week".

From the foyer they could see a large number of people milling around with drinks in their hands, laughing and enjoying themselves. Morgan swallowed thickly upon seeing the scene but one look at Cari's smiling face helped her relax. A young woman a year or two older spotted them and gave a squeal of delight rushing away from her friends to wrap an arm around Carissa's shoulders and pressed her cheek against the younger woman's.

Carissa was quick enough to introduce the woman as her sister before being whisked off, leaving Morgan alone.

It didn't take long for Morgan to feel out of place prompting her to find her own little corner away from everyone else. Eventually she found a spot with a good view and a cold breeze, there was a small balcony up in the attic that you can access through a round window.

Morgan took a deep breath, her long, dark chestnut hair blew softly in the breeze. The view of the college was breathtaking from this height and distance, she could see the class buildings, the park and courtyard further out she could spot her dorm building. Looking down she could see the people milling around, going in and out of the house.

There were times when she felt so removed from other people, like she couldn't find a connection with some of them. Morgan knew she wasn't like most people, her childhood made it pretty clear that she wasn't, but now as an adult she still had difficulties socializing. It made her uneasy when she thinks about it.

These were the days when Morgan missed her sister the most. They spent a number of years together before her sister was taken from her, they had been inseparable but then Morgan spent many of what was meant to be their milestones alone.

Man, life was a real b-

The sound of whistling from behind her cut her off from her thoughts, she turned to see who it was but her hand slipped from the edge of the balcony, the railing was really low, causing her to lose balance and fall on the other side of the rail.

She briefly glimpsed Callum's panicked face as she went over.

"You could have killed me!" Morgan slapped at Callum's arm, he leaned away until the brunette finally stopped with a huff. Morgan had caught on one of the railing grills to keep her from plummeting to her death, Callum rushed out onto the balcony to help her up. The both of them collapsed once Morgan was safely back on the balcony.

"I am sorry about surprising you and causing you to nearly fall to death but maybe, and hear me out here, just maybe you shouldn't be leaning so far out the railing." Callum said with a shrug.

"What were you doing up here anyway?" Morgan asked, bringing her knees up and wrapping her arms around them. He sighed, settling beside her "I saw you and your friend come in and saw you come up"

Morgan raised an eyebrow "So you followed me?"

His cheeks coloured "You could say that"

She chuckled causing Callum to smile too, the young man dangled his body to face her and held out his hand "Callum Caraway, nice to officially meet you"

Morgan stared at the dark haired man's hand, suddenly feeling shy, gently she took his hand and gave it a firm shake "It's a pleasure to meet you Callum, my name is Morgan"

Callum was sitting on a park bench, laughing quietly to himself as he scrolled through the community forums he had joined, keeping himself busy while he waited for her. To say Morgan was dedicated was an understatement, due to her academic record she'd been allowed in a tutoring program to help students who were having difficulties in their classes and it was undeniable that she would be a good tutor however Morgan had also joined an arts organization and was doing her best to be active and help out with what the organization needed.

This would often lead to her coming home later than normal. But since Callum's practices often ran late he would often wait for her, like he was now.

It didn't take long for him to hear someone running on the paths, a moment later Morgan appears holding all her things, her vibrant green eyes lighting up at the sight of him.

She finally reached him, dropping her butt on the bench, right next to him "You know you really don't have to wait for me every night. I feel bad that you have to sit here and wait instead of getting back to your dorm right away"

He waved his hand dismissively "I told you before I don't mind. And what kind of friend would I be if I let you walk home alone at night?"

Disappointment washed over Morgan, it had been months since they'd first met and to be honest she really did like him, she'd started dropping hints two weeks ago but Cal had not noticed.

God, she was acting like an idiot! Waiting for a guy to notice and take action. She did not get where she was now by being idle.

Callum stood, slipping on the strap of his duffle "Back to the dorm?"

A bulb lit up in her head, and she made the first step.

"Actually" she cleared her throat and spoke again more firmer this time "Actually no. You don't have class tomorrow right?"

His brows furrowed in confusion "Yeah, why?"

"I want to treat you for waiting for me for the past few weeks. I don't feel that just saying thank you will be enough for what you've been doing"

His gaze softened "Morgan, you know you don't have to do this"

"I know I don't have to, but I want to Cal"

"I don't need you to pay me back" he argued but blinked in surprise to see Morgan's face , under the park lamp, turn bright red starting from her cheeks spreading down her neck and chest "That's not the only reason why I'm asking you to go out with me tomorrow"

It hit him, she was asking him out on a date. Blood rose to his cheeks "Morgan…"

" I like you" she admitted "You wait for me after practice even though you could be at your dorm by now resting, you buy your roommate coffee and baked goods when you two have class in the morning, you don't lose your cool when that guy from your class texts you the same question for what feels like the hundredth time.

" You're sweet enough to help your mom plan your sister's birthday over video call" she grinned.

" I just wanted to help make her day special" he muttered

"The point is I like what I see right now and I want to see more" she explained gently "If after this date you think that we're better off friends then I'll be okay with that, all I ask is that we see if this could go further?"

Callum could not deny that he liked Morgan and liked spending time with her. She was passionate about her interests, so much so that the brunette had a tendency to make the wrong impression but when you get to know her better she can be sweet and thoughtful and funny…

Why the hell was he fighting this again?

Callum smiled "I can handle a trial run"

A bigger smile spread across Morgan's face, the unbridled joy lit up her eyes. The openness of her expression made his heart beat harder, it made him want to see her face make that expression more and he wanted to be the reason why she looked that way.

They walked back to their dorm rooms with an extra pep in their steps, looking ridiculously happy and as they walked side by side their fingers twitched with the need to take hold of the other person's hand.

"Sit still and let me work my magic!" Carissa grumbled running the comb as gently and as quickly through her roommate's hair .

Morgan winced as the comb caught a few snags, yanking on some strands of hair but other than that she kept silent.

She was mostly ready for her and Callum's date, she searched through her entire closet trying to find the nicest date outfit and barely got enough sleep for the next day.

Morgan wanted the date to definitely be fun and comfortable, relaying this thought to Callum before going their separate ways. The brunette wore a loose grey shirt, ripped jeans, nude gladiator style wedge sandals and her brown leather jacket along with some light make-up. Morgan's green eyes glanced at the clock, she still had a few minutes before Callum arrived.

"Done!"Cari held up another mirror behind Morgan, the pretty blonde styled her roommate's hair into a half up crown braid, just something simple but it suited Morgan well.

Green eyes widened in awe, there were very few times in Morgan's life that prompted her to put more than a minimal amount of effort into her appearance but when she did it never failed to surprise her.

"Gorgeous" Cari whispered, unable to keep her lips from forming a wide grin.

"Thank you so much for helping me. I don't think I could have done this"

"Sweetie, you have got to give yourself more credit. You are more capable than you think, without the make-up you already look pretty but with it on? Wow" she pretended to swipe her forehead "Callum won't know what hit him!"

As if on cue there was a knock at the door, the duo exchanged excited looks. Cari pushed Morgan towards the door and gave her a double thumbs up.

Morgan took a deep breath and opened the door, and there Callum stood with a bouquet of sunflowers in hand. His eyes widened as he took her in "You look…" he trailed off unable to get more words to come out of his mouth "Damn I can't get my mouth to work" he chuckled nervously.

Morgan gave him an amused smile "That's okay. Take your time"

It took him a few minutes but he was finally able to make coherent sentences again "You look absolutely amazing that I honestly feel inadequate just by standing beside you"

Blush quickly rose to the Morgan's cheeks "Well there you go, talking in full sentences" the brunette's hands rose to receive the flowers, it took Callum a second to register the movement before shoving the bouquet in the young woman's hands. She gave a quiet laugh and excused herself to put them in a vase.

While she was gone, Callum let out a breath of relief.

That could have been worse.

"Callum really that's not necessary"

"But I want to!" He insisted, gently wrestling the bag out of her weakening grip "You paid for lunch-"

"Which is what treating you means" she quipped

"-the least I can do is carry your bag while I walk you to class." He finally got the item out of her grip but made a noise at the weight it carried. She made a move to get the bag back but her date moved it out of her reach causing her to pout.

Their date went really well, while they didn't do too many activities due to the time constraint they did the most important thing on a date: enjoy each other's company.

They had gone to lunch first, eating at a quaint little restaurant in town Carissa's sister recommended. The old couple who ran the restaurant were a lovely pair, and even after so many years together it was clear that they still loved each other dearly.

It was still a little early so there were plenty of seats still available. Callum and Morgan seated themselves in a booth by the window enjoying the view of the outside while they ate. They had ordered coffees afterwards and were surprised when a dessert had come with their orders.

"On the house" the waitress winked as she left them to enjoy their meal.

The couple shared a surprised look then Morgan giggled and Callum's ears turned red. They ate their dessert while the owners of the restaurant exchanged smiles.

Afterwards Morgan decided that a walk would help the full feeling in the stomachs. They walked around, checking the different things the stores in town occasionally making a purchase when something catches their eye. Eventually they came to the park, sitting on their bench cuddled close, their hands interlocked.

Their date was coming to an end so all they could do was prolong what time they had left.

Which lead to where they were now, playing keep away with Morgan's bag as Callum walked her to class. They finally reached their destination and Callum had to give his date her things back.

They lingered by the door, unwilling to end it.

"Did you have fun?" she asked him softly, so softly he almost didn't hear her.

" Yes" he responded

"And?" she prompted

"You're right ,I want to see where this might go" he admitted

She gave him that bright smile that made his heart beat faster, what she did next nearly made his heart stop. She lifted herself up on her toes and gingerly kissed his cheek.

"Your move now, Caraway" and with that she left him out in the hall, ears redder than apples and heart beating more wildly than before.

Soft flakes fell around her as Morgan swung gently from the swings. The young woman sniffled and wiped at her nose with her sleeve. She was home for the holidays, but it was clearly going to be a miserable Christmas.

The first reason was her own fault, she was rushing around campus during the few weeks left before break trying to finish what little she had left to do when she got onto the soccer field, little did she know there was practice going on. One of the players was running full speed, dribbling the ball when the brunette stepped on causing the player to tackle the young woman into the ground. This resulted in a dislocated shoulder.

The next reason was no longer Morgan's fault. A day or so after arriving home the young woman received a rather alarming email. There were some issues with one of her professor's records which now meant a few students in that class are technically failing, Morgan included. The only solution was to gather up all her tests results and submissions over the course of the term and submit them for recording. Now all she could do was wait and hope that her professor finished computing their grades in time for submission.

The last reason was partially her fault. She and Callum had the worst fight they'd ever had, they had been busy with classes and extracurricular commitments, but when they had a moment they would make plans to meet together just to talk, have a quick snack or even just hold hands for a minute or two before life knocked on each of their doors. But Callum always cancelled last minute, even if he was the one who called her. Morgan understood that the unexpected could happen but every time? There was just no way.

The last straw was after cancelling for the umpteenth time, because he had to work with his group mates on a project, his girlfriend decided to check on him only to find him and his friends goofing off with their project halfway finished with the deadline only a few days away. They had supposedly started a month or so ago.

She, to her embarrassment later on, had lost it. She could exactly remember what they said to each other but it was definitely bad. They haven't spoken to each other since then.

Morgan missed him and wanted to apologize. An apology over text or call did not seem enough, she'd have to look up more options. Morgan just hoped that when she made her move it wouldn't be too late.

She glanced at her watch, stood up and left the park, walking down the road leading to the center of town.

Every year the townspeople would gather together at the town's plaza and watch the giant tree at the center light up. As a child it was her favorite event, once the bright lights came on, the little's mood lightened as well.

But it did not seem like the trey's lights would brighten her mood this year. Morgan weaved her way around the crowd, careful of her still healing arm, trying to find her mother.

The brunette perked up when she caught sight of her mother, the young woman walked towards the older woman but slowed her approach when she saw a tall man, his back towards Morgan, talking to her mother. The older woman's face became alert, causing the man to turn.

It was definitely not an older man like Morgan thought, instead it was Callum. His face was flushed and was panting softly, puffs of air leaving his mouth.

Frozen in shock, she could only stare at her boyfriend's face as he came closer. The couple stood a short distance from each other, each unsure of what to do or say until they heard a voice from where Morgan's mother stood "For God's sake boy just say what you need to say!"

The voice was the kick to the butt needed to bring the two out of their immobilized states. Callum turned his head at the same time Morgan looked behind him to see the young woman's mother dragging her friend away to give the couple more privacy.

Morgan shook her head but couldn't help the smile from spreading across her face "Sorry about that"

"No need, it helped break the ice" he chuckled

She glanced at the crowd around them and peered up at him “Do you want to go somewhere more private?”

He nodded.

Morgan pressed her lips together then hesitantly stretched out her hand to him. Without any hesitation he took her hand and she led him on the road to reconciling their relationship .

Later that night, the couple was snuggled up on the couch. They had a long talk about their fight and their relationship, they still had a long way to go before their relationship was the way it was before.

But for now, as they cuddled on the couch, all they could think of was the time they were without each other. Just a moment of peace together before the sun came up and they had to face the world again.

She slept on the couch, her head nestled on a pillow and Morgan’s favorite blanket covering her slight frame. Morgan sighed as she stared at her sister with a trouble look on her face. Callum set his girlfriend’s mug on the table and pushed it in her direction. She turned and flashed him a smile before turning back to watch the young woman on the couch.

“Remind me again why, even though we’ve been dating for three years, you never talked about this twin that I met over a video call?”

Morgan closed her eyes and let out a tired breath and shifted in her seat to face him and her hot mug of cocoa “My sister and my father’s side of the family are very sore topics for both me and my mother. I love my sister and she, from a young age, showed incredible talent in a family art and was considered a prodigy. But my mom had no idea how to handle it so she called my paternal grandmother for help” Morgan swallowed thickly “My grandmother’s way of helping was to take my sister from us so she could develop her talents in the best environment possible”

Callum reached across the table and squeezed her hand “She never called or made any effort to communicate?”

The short haired brunette turned the hand Callum had so she could hold his hand while taking a sip of her drink “It’s not her fault, my grandmother lives in this really rural town, on an island that’s practically in the middle of nowhere”

He stared at her, silently taking in her expression and body language. Her sister’s sudden arrival was clearly not something that Morgan was taking well, after so long apart his girlfriend had no idea where she stood in Concordia's life but it was also clear that Morgan still loved her twin and wanted to know more about her which is why she was with them now.

Callum reached up to cup Morgan’s face “I understand that this is hard for you to talk about and that your sister being here is difficult for you also but I’m here for you.” he stood up and crouched in front of her, taking her other hand “I’ll take up some of your chores, I’ll stay with Ivan every now and then so you both of you can bond more?” he laughed butt quieted when Cordia shifted on the couch.

Morgan gave a soft laugh “You don’t have to do that. Seeing you when I come home is always the highlight of my day” she stared into his eyes, looking more relaxed than she’d been in days “I love you”

Callum smiled and leaned in to press his mouth against hers. Morgan slid her hands up his chest to wrap them around his neck to deepen the kiss. The world fell away and it was just them, together.

They jumped apart when a loud sound came from the living room, Morgan’s sister turned in her sleep, her arm outstretched on the coffee table. The couple took in the sight and made varying noises of disgruntlement.

Callum looked down at his girlfriend with a sigh “We’ll work around it” he said hugging her close.

The short brunette closed her eyes, taking delight in the warmth and strength of Callum’s body. But a concern slipped into the young woman’s mind, Morgan couldn’t help but think of her sister’s presence and what changes it could do to Morgan’s life. She wasn’t worried about her sister specifically but when they were together Concordia’s talents had a tendency to bring out Morgan’s own abilities.

As children they knew what to expect of their abilities and while Morgan knew Cordia had better control of her powers the younger twin was concerned about how her own abilities have developed.

She could only hope that her life would not become as complicated as it was now.

Of course in the next few weeks those hopes were died quite quickly.

#original story #unbeta'd #Callum Loves Morgan #critique welcome #writing

1 note · View note

lailaliquorice · 5 years

Text

all the kingdom lights shine

The fifth of the seven anon prompts: “Are we on a date right now?” with parrlyn.

alternate title: local useless gay cathy parr is a local useless gay. but here’s 2k words of pure unadulterated fluff with these two soft babies. they both love each other so hard and it gives me feelings. aragon and kat are the best wingwomen and i love jane’s mum spidey senses so much. and much love to the folks on the discord for the moral support while i finish this thing up at 3am!!

Anne Boleyn was many things, but organised was certainly not one of them. She liked to tell Aragon and Jane that she lived in a state of semi-ordered chaos; everything she owned was all over the place, she hardly ever wrote any plans down, but somehow she always made it to every engagement with one minute to spare. As much as the mum-friends despaired over her, she liked her ability to live life without structure and still manage to be a semi-functioning adult.

But when it came to planning her and Cathy’s first date, Anne knew that she wanted it to be perfect.

The first hurdle was that she had no idea what people did on dates in the twenty first century, so she took to the internet to find some local events that they might both be interested. For a long while it looked like a book fair at Cathy’s favourite bookstore was the best bet, until she saw an advert for a fairground in one of London’s parks that caught her eye immediately. She knew it was a cliché from the teenage romance novels she’d developed a taste for since her reincarnation, but she was too excited by the idea not to use it.

Telling Cathy not to make any plans for their next free day was the easy part, since Cathy seemed happy enough to let Anne keep her idea a secret. What was slightly harder was making sure that Cathy was dressed for the occasion without letting on what said occasion was. After failing to come up with an idea herself she decided to enlist Aragon’s help, who then dragged Kat in too since she would cause the least suspicion. Kat was sent off to guide Cathy’s clothing choices that morning while Aragon tore through Anne’s wardrobe like a hurricane, and after much criticism of Anne’s very conflicting dress sense she handed her a pair of cropped jeans and a black crop top.

After checking she knew the Underground directions at least five times and re-doing her hair twice, Anne gave herself a nervous grin in the mirror before she headed downstairs. Cathy was waiting for her by the front door, and Anne almost missed a step when she saw how pretty she looked. Kat had picked out a mustard yellow vest top tucked into pair of blue patterned culottes, and her hair was down but secured behind a yellow bandanna.

Cathy looked up abruptly at the sound of Anne almost falling down the stairs, and Anne just shot her a grin from where she was desperately clinging onto the bannister. “I’m fine!” she yelled down before Cathy had a chance to say anything, hoping that her cheeks weren’t blushing scarlet as she approached of her girlfriend. In the back of her mind she made a mental note to buy Kat something pink and fluffy from the fairground as a token of thanks.

“As long as you’re sure,” Cathy laughed at Anne’s antics, opening the front door as she asked “Are you ready to go?”

Anne nodded, shouting her customary goodbye to the rest of the queens that probably made the foundations shake before she and Cathy left.

Anne’s heart was racing as they walked down the road towards the nearest Underground station, both due to nervousness that the day might not go perfectly and the fact that Cathy was holding her hand. She didn’t realise just how much she was stressing until they had to change trains halfway through the journey, and Cathy pulled her into a quiet corner of the station from where she’d been about to shove through the crowd towards the platform.

“Hey, just stop and breathe for a second,” she said before Anne could protest. “Is everything ok? You seem really nervous and I can’t work out why.”

Ducking her head a little out of embarrassment, Anne just shrugged for a moment before she could find her words. “I just want it to be a good day, that’s all!” she said, trying to come across as breezy as she could. “I’ve been excited about this for ages.”

Cathy smiled, and Anne sighed internally with relief that she wasn’t suspicious. “I can tell,” she replied with a note of laughter in her voice, letting Anne lead her back in the direction they needed to go.

The secret was impossible to keep hidden any longer when they stepped foot into the park, where the colours of the fairground were glowing brightly under the midday sun. “A fairground!” Cathy gasped aloud, looking around with a look of childish wonderment on her face that Anne didn’t think she’d ever seen before. “Now I can see why you were excited! Come on, let’s go!”

They both took off running then, too eager to enjoy the fair to care that they were meant to be the adults in a place full of children with their families. As Anne paid for a few ride tokens, Cathy said “I remember once my mother took me to a fair back in the 1520s. I wasn’t allowed to play much but it was still nice to be there and enjoy the atmosphere.”

“We didn’t have anything like this at the French court. There were banquets and entertainment but nothing as makeshift as this,” Anne said, smiling as Cathy recounted a tale from her youth. It always made a nice change whenever one of them told a pleasant story from their old lives since everything from their marriages onwards tended to be much more solemn.

Cathy shrugged. “I suppose you wouldn’t. I think that’s what I like so much about it though, there’s no expectations to behave like you have to in court so you can just have fun.”

Anne hummed in agreement, looking around and spotting a merry-go-round in the distance. “Come on then, let’s go have that fun!”

After two turns on the merry-go-round and a few runs on some faster rides where Anne ended up clinging to Cathy’s hand out of terror, they opted to try their luck on the many claw machines filled with various stuffed toys. Cathy’s attempts involved a lot of over-analysing which always ended in failure, whereas Anne somehow managed a lot better and came out with two prizes to Cathy’s amazement. One of them was a little dog which fit the ‘pink and fluffy’ requirement to be Kat’s thank you gift; the other was a smiley star which she held out to her girlfriend and asked “Gold star for Cathy Parr?”

Cathy’s laughter made Anne’s sheepish smile turn into a beaming grin, and despite her little exasperated sigh she took the star and tucked him safely into her rucksack. “Very good, very good. What’s next?” she asked.

“Food?” Anne suggested. When Cathy nodded, Anne lead her towards over to the food area and then made a sudden diversion when a sweet stall caught her eye. “Yes, this food,” she said, already picturing the disapproving look on Jane’s face at her choice in lunch.

A few minutes later they were sat down at a free table, Cathy munching through a bag of popcorn while Anne brandished a very large cloud of candyfloss. “I think that definitely exceeds your sugar allowance for the day,” Cathy pointed out with a laugh.

Anne pulled a face. “Whatever, everyone’s just gonna have to put up with me later,” she said, giving Cathy a wink. After Cathy laughed again, her expression sobered a little as she asked nervously “Was this alright? Did I do ok?”

“With what?” Cathy asked, head tilted in confusion.

Gesturing around her, Anne added “With this, y’know, was it what you were imagining?”

Cathy paused suddenly with a handful of popcorn halfway to her mouth. “Wait, wait a second. Are we on a date right now?”

Anne could only drop her head to rest on the tabletop and groan. With all the preparation and stress she’d put into making sure the day was perfect, she’d only gone and forgotten to tell Cathy that they were actually going on a date.

She heard the sound of movement around her just as Cathy sat down next to her and put an arm around her shoulders. “Oh sweetheart, I’m so sorry,” she said, a mixture of guilt and amusement in her voice. “Of course, that’s why you were nervous earlier! I thought you just wanted to show me the funfair. But it’s a perfect first date, I couldn’t have hoped for anything more.”

“Really?” Anne asked hopefully, lifting her head to look at her girlfriend.

“Of course,” Cathy said, leaning over to kiss her deeply. “I can literally taste the sugar on your lips,” she murmured as they broke apart, giving her one more quick kiss before she sat back. “So, what were you planning on doing after you finish all that candyfloss?”

Anne hummed thoughtfully for a moment, looking around the fair for inspiration. “Well,” she started almost shyly. “I kinda wanted to ride the ferris wheel at sunset. Other than that I’m not sure.”

“We could always ride it twice?”

Her eyes lit up at Cathy’s suggestion, holding tight to the stick of her candy floss with one hand and grabbing Cathy’s hand with the other.

The line for the ferris wheel was fairly long, being one of the more popular rides at the fair, so both the candyfloss and the popcorn were gone by the time Anne and Cathy sat down in their seat. Anne took Cathy’s hand and laced their fingers together as the ferris wheel started to turn, lifting them high above London where they immediately set about trying to find where their theatre was.

Anne’s romantic side had been planning on kissing Cathy when they were on the ferris wheel as sunset, but her girlfriend’s voice in her head reminded her that there was nothing from stopping her doing it twice. As Cathy rambled about the landmarks they could see from their vantage point, Anne gently tugged on Cathy’s hand to make her look around at her. Cathy fell silent as she did so, and Anne took the opportunity to place a gentle hand on Cathy’s jaw as she leaned to kiss her.

Just as the skies opened above them.

~~~

An hour or so later, Jane would say that she’d known the exact moment that the two were suddenly drowning at the top of a ferris wheel. She’d been sat in the living room with the other queens, everyone quiet as they occupied themselves, when she sat up abruptly and dislodged Kat who had been snuggled into her side.

“What?” asked Aragon, looking concerned.

Anna jumped in before Jane could respond. “I know that look, her mum senses are going off,” she said with a slight snigger. “Come on, what trouble have the lovebirds just found themselves in!”

Jane didn’t reply immediately, just glanced over at the window and the light summer drizzle outside. It didn’t take ‘mum senses’ or anything of that sort to guess what was happening across London at that moment. So with a great deal of effort she rallied the others and was ready with several blankets and hot water bottles when Anne and Cathy stumbled through the door looking very worse for wear.

Immediately Jane sent them upstairs to change out of their sodden clothes, then bundled them onto the sofa together as Anna and Kat attempted to dry their hair. Aragon arrived in the living room with two mugs of steaming hot chocolate topped with marshmallows which they took eagerly, glad to be in the warm and dry as the rainstorm raged outside.

“I shall expect both of you to come down with colds within the next 48 hours then,” Jane said brightly as they sipped on their warm drinks, but then her expression softened as she sat down on the other sofa beside Aragon. “Did you both have a good time though?”

Cathy just about managed to glance sideways at Anne while Anna worked on towelling her curls dry. Somehow, even with her hair hanging in sodden rattails and her face pale with cold, when she smiled at Cathy it was still the sweetest sight she’d ever seen. “It was perfect,” she said, her hand burrowing through the blankets until she found Anne’s cold fingers and gave them a reassuring squeeze.

Later on, when they were both curled up together in Anne’s bed trying to chase away the chill that still lingered in their bones, Cathy held Anne close as she whispered “I meant what I said, it was still perfect even with the rain. It was a first date I’ll always remember.”

She could just about see Anne smile through the darkness. “Love you,” she murmured sleepily, and Cathy kissed her cheek before giving herself into exhaustion.

#six the musical #six the musical fanfiction #six the musical fanfic #parrlyn #anne boleyn #catherine parr #laila's writing

78 notes · View notes