#last night i dreamt of holding ryans glasses again | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

xmortuarykittyx · 7 months

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Ever Locked

Part 2: On the Rocks

Part 1: New Beginnings?

pairing: Older!Leon Kennedy x Ex!Coroner’s Assistant Reader

warnings: Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, talks of enjoying inflicting emotional and physical pain on another, getting off to crying, jerking off, crying, talks of imagining sex, male and female body parts

extras: this fic will also be slow and longer, we’re telling an entire story, i want it to be detailed with Reader and Leon as well as introducing Marina and Ryan. I hope you guys enjoy i have so so so many ideas and rough drafts already written. next part should be out Saturday! and i may write another and post it Sunday as im off both days <3

Glass, wet to the touch, my finger dragging across it to leave a small smear mark between the residue. The ice clinking to the side of the glass as the cup was lifted to my lips. That dark haired girl had said she'd be in soon. I could wait, I'd waited 7 years to see her again. I wasn't waiting any longer than I had to. The amber liquor burnt on its way down, the dribble sliding down my cheek, black leather sleeve coming up to wipe away the drop. She'd be here soon... just be patient, Leon. She's gonna be hesitant at first but... I was so loving to her. Those damn coffees and breakfast- was what we had not good enough for her?

All those years, the day the world ended, so had mine. I lost her, part of me actually thought she'd died in the mess that was Raccoon City. September 29th, 1998. Now it sat, September 26th, 2004. 7 years since I've felt the warmth of her body, the softness of her hair... since hearing those beautiful moans and whimpers of pain. I needed her, those 7 years passed quickly. From meeting Ada, Claire and Sherry, to being pulled into the government and told that with my joining USSTRATCOM, Sherry Birkins would live a normal life, the choice truly wasn't mine. I wanted a life of a normal man. A wife to come home to, soft lips to kiss good night, preferably by now, age 28, I'd have a kid or two- preferably with the woman i set out to find once more, the shy coroner's assistant. Instead, I'm a DSO Agent, currently under MIA status, I knew I was in for it the moment anyone found me. My... habits have become a bit more... flavorless. The whiskey in front of me the 20th bottle I've probably had in the last month. Sliding from shit hole to shit hole, waiting until closer to the anniversary of the day she slipped from my fingers, to trap her once more.

Of the two of us, i'm sure i've changed the most, my hair darker, a brown instead of that bright blonde i was so proud of. My beard had slightly grown out, no razor was worth leaving the bottle or whatever hotel i huddled up in. The shitty lighting of the bar didn't hide her though. As soon as she walked in, I knew it was her. She hasn't truly changed, much, after so many years. Her hair was longer than before, her eyes more tired than I was use to seeing. What was causing her such restless nights? Did she miss me as much as I missed her? I knew the government has sent her off with some money and her car before they blew the town to hell and back, but that's all they'd tell me, not a where she went or even an answer to "how was she?".

My eyes didn't leave her, specifically her chest as she chatted with the shorter girl. That shirt nearly had her everything on show, men staring down her shirt as they passed, catching a glimpse of the top of her breasts, before she disappeared behind the bar. The other girl looking down at the ground, where she crouched.

It didn't take long for her to pop back up, cleaner and a dingy rag in her hands. She wiped idly at the empty bar, her eyes still lingering on the other girl. She was very chatty, she talked about how much him and her friend would be perfect... she was right. That woman was perfect for me, I didn't plan on leaving the weeping town without her. I drove my ass over three thousand miles to see the girl I dreamt of holding every night... dreamt of pounding the ever loving shit out of her. Wanted to see her swole with my child, I stayed up at night, wondering if our child would look like her... or me. Would they have my blue eyes and her hair? Her eyes and my hair? I hope they got her lips and eyebrows. My chin fell to my chest, a soft sigh falling from my lips, a smirk causing the corners to twitch. I wanted that life with her... but she ran. She could've waited for me, asked them to tell me where she'd be. Then again, i don't think anyone thought i'd survive those years in between, in training under Jack Krauser.

My eyes flickered back to the bar, wanting to see her face once more, to study her in her new habitat. The first thing that caught my eye was a manicured finger pointing at me, that girl had a big mouth- a growl fell from my lips for a moment. She couldn't have just not told her? She had to give away his position and all? Then, my eyes scanned the woman next to her, ending at her eyes, the same smirk on my lips. God, I've missed her. The glasses between her fingers fell to the floor in a sharp crash, her body stepping back instantly. I couldn't help but laugh, my chest rocking as i thought about how careless she always had been. Something's never change, bunny... some things were destined to be- we were destined to be.

We were. We always had been, a shy, careless bunny and her protective, dangerous wolf. Her figure ran, fast as she whipped out the Motorola Razr, pink... fitting for her. She must be making more money here than i thought. A five hundred dollar cell phone, she could afford that on a bar salary? I don't think so... there has to be more to her new life.

My own Razr ringing as i assumed another call from Chris to ask me where i've been or if i was even alive. His call ending to raise the 27 missed calls to 28. Nothing was going to stop me from getting her, i wasn't as naive as before. I had grown, my training showing me gaps in my methods, the scumbags that hurt and caused damage showing me new ideas as well- but mine were for protection. Mine were for her, like i said all those years ago. I'd do anything for her, even putting up with her accusations and her eager willingness to be in danger. Even if she threw away my money like some other boy lusting after her attention. I was, am and will forever be, her soul mate. Her impression is laid into my heart and brain. Something i was never able to change, she deserved to be there. She was a religion. Something i had to have, an addiction, something to be looked at and adored, worshiped... something i was missing in my life away from Raccoon City.

My cock ached thinking about those soft pitiful whines that fell from her lips, the moment her head hit my tile. The moans from her plump lips as she came undone on me, gushing that forbidden nectar all over my sheets, my name on her tongue like a shunned prayer. Someone she pleaded for, unknowingly calling out for the devil to catch her. Caught her, I did... until fate decided to be cruel. My fingers brushed over the growing ache from my pants, the slit of my cock pressed to the zipper as the my hips jerked up, brushing it against the angry tip.

My thoughts were broken by someone asking for the manifestation of religion. "Hey, Marina! Where is she?", a sharp pin prick stabbed at my spine, a quirk in my lips as i see the unsteady man. His hands on the bar as 'Marina' points to the back room. All i could see was a white dress shirt, and black slacks. He better not be fucking her- only i can touch something like her, something created for my pleasure and sight. Her teary eyes and drool collecting at the corner of her mouth. A jerk from my dick had my whiskey at the back of my mind, quickly jumping up to rush to the bathroom.

Stupid fucking bunny. My arm rested on the stall wall, elbow dug into the metal as my palm brushed the exposed skin. Shirt tail tucked between my teeth as my hand started to fist at the hardened flesh. I could hear soft cries- hers... the bathroom must be next to the employee room. Her cries were like a sirens call, precum smeared across the sensitive flesh as my hips snapped up with the pace i had set for myself. Imagining her, that pretty face under me, her eyes rolled up to watch as i pumped my shaft, staring at those beautiful eyes. Wouldn't waste my cum on her face, no matter how tempting. Would have her bouncing on my cock, her pussy walls clenching down on my cock, tip nudging against her cervix and bumping into her soft spot as i rocked my hips. A louder sob left her lips as i felt a jolt in my cock, pumping faster. She was just so pretty... those pretty clear tears causing her eyes to gloss over. Her mumbled and moans- "fuck..", my hand slows, feeling the twitching of my cum shoot out onto the rim of the toilet seat.

"disgusting.", the realization of what i had just done hitting me, "jerking off to a sweet bunny crying in the men's bathroom?", a dry laugh falling from my lips. "yeah- some things don't change.", the memory of doing the same at RPD flashing to mind. I'd fucked myself to the sound of her laughter more than once. Those red lacy underwear hidden in my drawer, ready for the next time i needed a stabilizing moment. A sniff, a jerk off... anything. The toilet paper was damn near falling apart as i wiped off the cum from the tip of my cock, a hiss leaving my lips. The sensitive skin, overworked by my palm. "Shit- use to be better about not getting so over worked.", an annoyed yet amused tone to my words.

The slamming of the bathroom door caught my attention next, i felt like a damn dog outside for the first time, jumpy and slightly buzzed. My hand landed on the stall door, sliding it open to be faced with the same white shirt and black slacks. Black hair combed back and pale skin- she certainly tried to stay away from anything close to me, didn't she?

The man washed his hands, a groan leaving his lips as he realized he didn't have any paper towels to dry his hands. "Got toilet paper, but the shit nearly falls apart on you.", i added, i wonder if she said anything to him yet. If he recognized my presence had been the one to distraught her so deeply. Her soft sobs could still be heard. "Yeah... i'll pass, thanks.", he side eyed me, brown eyes wide and weirded out. "Yeah, no problem.", my hands came up to wave him off. I wanted to know more, where was he from- what was he to her? Boyfriend, probably... but that just won't do. I had to keep her with me, she was my forbidden fruit. The future mother to my children, my bunny... my little play thing. The man started to turn to walk away, his hand resting on the door as he turned his head to take a final peek. "Have a good rest of your day.", the man spoke up. "Yeah, you too. Hey- I didn't catch your name.", I knew for a fact he knew now, his side eyes not passing my radar. I was trained in body language, he didn't want to take his eyes off me, he saw me as a threat. "I didn't throw it.", he dead panned, his look slightly more angered. "Right... right...", what was this guys name again? It popped up under the same address as hers.

Ken? Ren? Rylan- Ryan! "Sorry...", my hands met under the water, washing away the sins that lingered on my skin. "Have a good rest of your night, Ryan.", i hummed, as casually as possible, my eyes catching his in the mirror. "I caught it.", i quickly add, maybe giving him any insight that i knew anything was stupid, but i didn't care. "Yeah... you too, Leon.", a chuckle left my lips, maybe she hadn't picked someone too different as the annoyance and anger clung to his words. A smirk fell on my lips, becoming more familiar to my features the more i stayed in this busy town. I didn't reply, just watching as he walked out, thinking he had the upper hand. He doesn't, he won't- bunny was mine, I owned her. I had staked my claim 7 years ago on that girl and I'd be damned if I lost it now.

Ryan... I'll have to look that up later. Keeping all my tabs on the new life she built for herself. I was more careful this go around, despite the ache that quickly came back to my groin from the power exchange...!i would wait, plan... figure out how and when to take her back to the house i built. A family home, build from the foundation up on quite a few acres, stuck in the middle of a very small town. This will be our home, sweet bunny... we'll have a family, somewhere where it's just us. I'm tired of fighting for everyone else to have their happy endings, for them to get to shine while i suffer... This time, i'll be selfish, i'll get what i want and i won't allow my broken bird to fly, my little bunny to hop. Instead, she'll be mine, changed and tamed... kept away from the unsafe world, kept private and secret from nearly anyone. If only i could get rid of the suspicion of the man and the fear she held on me. I just wanted a life, i'd get it. One way or another, i was getting my family home and filling it with little Kennedy's.

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sending-the-message · 6 years

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We built an Angel by M59Gar

In a town of only two hundred people, we had three churches—but that didn't help when the fire came. We stood shouting and praying as it jumped from house to house, but we received no answer from either heaven or earth. We'd been forced to defund our fire department as people moved away and the town sank further into debt over the last decade; there'd been some hope of gap funding to get us to the next fiscal year, but the November fire was burning that hope away right before our eyes. Lacking any other option, we turned to the Collective Entity.

It was actually my idea. I was one of only four recent college graduates that had actually returned to Malinta after escaping, so no one else even considered it. The only thing our town was known for was having elected as mayor an accused witch instead of burning her at the stake; it was to her artifacts in the mayoral building that I ran. In one of the glass cases was a scroll from 1880, and I'd memorized the text as an intrigued child. I broke that glass with a rock, carefully took the scroll, and ran back to Turkeyfoot Avenue where most of the townsfolk had gathered.

The debate over whether it would actually work was short. Malinda Elizabeth Bensing was a revered name by the old timers, and anyone younger was willing to try it regardless. The namesake of our town had not been a witch in the sense that she'd trafficked with Satan or demons; indeed, she'd claimed those evils didn't even exist. Instead, she'd been some strange sort of purveyor of very real human energies, and that was the primary power in the scroll. According to the text, if we overlaid our hands in a very specific tessellating pattern and all held the same thought in our heads, we could give our support and willpower over to a Collective Entity born of us.

By haunting firelight fueled by the homes and possessions of our community, we swallowed down our trepidation at the strange ritual and stood in the middle of Turkeyfoot Avenue in the manner described. It needed to work; it had to work. That night, I saw fear in the eyes of my neighbors, and for once I understood what it meant to be a part of a place. Like my friends, I'd dreamt of escape, but they'd had the money to actually do it. My life, therefore, was on the line just as much as any of these people. I gave my willpower—and, shockingly, I felt it drain forward through my arm.

Our tightly patterned knot of people began to glow; subtle light passed through our arms, flared in our fellows, and continued on stronger. As it reached the front, old man McCree gasped; the sum total pushed out through his chest, and he fell. No one ran to him, for all eyes were on the white glare floating slowly away from us.

I shouted, "The fire! Think about the fire!"

As one, we sent out our hopes to it, and it began to ascend. It began to take shape: flowing white robes, a golden halo, a benevolent face. It floated up and over the burning houses. It spread massive ivory wings. Then, rain began to fall.

But not from the sky—from beneath those spread wings.

Little by little, flaring pillars of orange dimmed to embers, and then went dark. We stared in amazement at the being that we'd created. It had actually worked! I'd once seen the ghostly Indian warrior on Turkeyfoot Creek Bridge when I'd been ten, so I knew the supernatural was at least somewhat real, but it absolutely astounded many of the others.

"It's exactly as I imagined it," one of the older women said in awe.

Another agreed, "Me too."

"It's an angel," yet another added.

Meanwhile, the other three college-grads and I rushed down to check on old man McCree. He was fine, but his hair had stood up straight on end, and touching him gave us static shocks. He stared at us with wide eyes and insisted he was alright and that we needed to let him alone.

The sky over our homes was dark again, and the heat of the fire had faded, so the chilled townsfolk began to disperse. The four similar-aged of us were left to go to Copper Bar & Grill and have a drink in startled silence. The bartender arrived shortly after us and served us with very few words before heading into the back; Ryan, Lily, and Courtney sat with me at a table.

I knew Ryan from our K through 12 school, and he'd always been a loudmouth meathead type, but now he had nothing to say and sat over his beer staring at the table.

Lily was our town's token Goth, and had never fit in with our staunch conservative atmosphere—yet she, too, had participated in the ritual. Her father's house had been next in the line of fire, and it had been saved. She broke the silence by saying, "How the hell did that actually work?"

I didn't know Courtney well. She'd been a late transfer to our town because of her family moving in, and then she'd gone off to college pretty quickly. "It's this town," she told us quietly. "Something like that would never have worked in a big city. You got one hundred percent of the people here to band together, and that's impossible anywhere else."

That was an interesting point. I responded, "So people would never believe us even if we tried to tell them."

She nodded sadly.

Ryan slowly lifted his head. He hadn't heard us. Instead, he said, "This is it. This is how we fix things."

Lily looked over at him in askance.

"We do it again," he elaborated. "Have it plow fields, grow crops. Save the town."

She shot back, "Forget farming. Let's make it construct a factory. We can sell electric cars."

The two immediately began to argue. Courtney and I watched for a minute or two before looking at each other with unspoken concern.

By the next morning, that concern had become full-blown reality. All the townsfolk were out in Turkeyfoot Avenue again, but not to put out fires. This time, they were arguing over what to do with the Collective Entity. Mr. Ellis, the owner of the bank, was at the head of the mob with his arms high trying to get people to calm down.

"Come on!" he shouted. "We can either work together and get something, or fight amongst ourselves and get nothing."

Different groups began yelling over each other; there were the three different church crowds, of course, who each wanted slightly different things; there were the farmers, like Ryan and his dad, and there were those like Lily that wanted to build the town into something more modern.

Next to me in the back, Courtney called forward, "Do we actually want different things, in the end? Don't we all just want to live peacefully and prosper? Why don't we do all those things?"

Ellis pointed at her and said, "Good idea! Someone get a table. And paper and pencil."

Someone suggested: "Well if it's gonna be official, we should do it in pen."

"Good idea, Earl!" Ellis motioned over the men who had grabbed a table from a nearby house, and they set it up in the center of the street, right on the pavement. "Someone got a pen?"

Widow Stephens offered a pen.

"Hey!" someone else complained. "That pen's got Trinity Lutheran on it."

"Yeah, and?"

"Well that's not fair. What about Malinta Memorial United Methodist?"

Ellis put a hand to his forehead briefly, then looked up and around. "Does anyone have a pen without any logos or words on it?"

My three new friends and I watched as they hammered out a Charter related to use of the Collective Entity. Everyone would get what they wanted in turn, but they spent several hours arguing about the order in which everyone would get what they wanted.

As dusk neared, they'd finally done it. They'd crafted a plan that all two hundred townsfolk could actually agree upon—and happily so. We had few enough and similar enough people that there was no outlying group left behind, and I imagined that was pretty wondrous. The other surprise, around the time darkness truly fell, was that the Entity did not need to be summoned again.

It appeared in the skies above us dimmer than before; drained, even, but it was still there.

Here was the first true test. Ellis read from the Charter; the first miracle would be to heal old man McCree's sick dog. His wife had died the year before and he'd fallen the previous night, so it only seemed fair. As one, the two hundred of us assembled there lent our support. Little sparks of white energy left each of us and went to the being in the sky, which grew back to full brightness and then disappeared in an umbrella-shaped flash of light over McCree's house.

His dog leapt through the dog-flap a few moments later and ran happily toward him with the energy of a puppy. It was a truly good thing to witness, and McCree cried and thanked us all profusely. That was it for the day, and we separated into our little groups again.

We were all smiling as we sat at Copper drinking, but I had to admit I was feeling a little tired. At first, I chalked it up to the day's lengthy debates, but I saw my friends yawning as well. Courtney said what we were all thinking: "Man, giving that energy away really took it out of me."

Huh, how about that.

It was a massive red flag that none of us paid the proper heed.

The next few nights we gathered to fix damage done by the fire; after, we still went to the bar for drinks, but that soon changed. After a week of minor miracles that everyone had agreed upon, I was too tired to stay out. I went home and immediately fell asleep in bed, only to awake as if I had a hangover anyway.

As I groggily stepped out, Courtney was on my porch with a coffee for each of us. "We have a problem."

I guzzled the hot coffee, winced at the morning sun, and nodded weakly.

There were already others gathering on Turkeyfoot by the time we walked there. They were tired, too, and much worse for the wear because they were older than us. Mr. Ellis was there with bags under his eyes and holding a discussion. He waved Courtney and me over as soon as he saw us. "Now here they are. Hey kids, you look better than we do, but is it safe to say you're feeling under the weather, too?"

We nodded. "Definitely."

"Well, then, it's no mystery what's happening." He sighed. "What we give to the Angel does come at a price. It ain't free. Therefore, we're gonna have to hammer out some sort of payment plan."

A few tired folk laughed, since Ellis was the town banker, but he hadn't been making a pun. "Look," he said. "You young ones bear it easier than us, so it's gonna come harder on you no matter how we slice it. Courtney, you work the Kwik Stop, don't you?"

She narrowed her eyes. "Yeah. Why?"

"Well how about you forget that, and just spend your days eating and exercising and generally getting well?" He looked at me. "You, too."

"What, like quit our jobs?" I asked, a little incredulous.

"You're still workin'," he replied positively. "Just for the whole town instead of just yourselves."

Wow. What a dick. I went to say something nasty, but Lily and Ryan arrived from opposite directions before I could, and Ellis gave them the same 'suggestion.'

At home, my parents immediately undercut my anger by telling me they were proud of what I was doing. Ellis had called them, and they understood and would support me with food and petty cash until the year or so of planned miracles was complete. Begrudgingly, I agreed.

And for a time, it actually worked out. I spent each day running, lifting weights, and eating carefully balanced diets. I got in shape and I felt great, at least until dusk, when the wind would be taken out of me in a basketball-sized orb of white light and I would be left winded, shaky, and weak. The older folk still gave, of course, but their contributions were the size of tennis balls or cherries. In return, I got to see whole buildings emerge from the ground in moments, and I got pats on the back and cheers from my entire community. For a time, Ryan, Lily, Courtney, and I were hardworking heroes.

But as the tasks grew in scope, so too did the energy required. By March, I was returning home to alternately guzzle Gatorade and throw up for hours. I didn't want anybody to see me struggling, least of all my parents, but I was reaching my breaking point. Not only was I physically ill every night, I hadn't had time for a social life in months, and I was beginning to feel cooped up in a prison with no walls.

When that dusk finally came that I had to hold up my hands in defeat and say I couldn't give, everyone else had gotten used to our new prosperity. Next to me, Courtney held her sides and nodded, too, wordlessly agreeing that she also needed a break.

Ryan's dad was there with a firm grip on his son's arm. "They've pushed back our miracle nights for 'emergencies' too many times. Our fields need fertilized. They can't just be left to dry out."

"It's fine," Ellis said to everyone. "We can all give a little more now and then, can't we?"

They couldn't. They got the mundane miracle done that night, but it eviscerated the older folk, sending them to their beds for the entire next day. They hadn't realized how onerous the burden had become.

But, strangely, they weren't more appreciative the next evening. I was feeling a tiny bit better, but they were sick and confused and angry. I tried to tell them, "Don't you see how hard we have to work to support all this for you?"

That just seemed to make them angrier, as if they didn't want to face what they were doing to us.

"You're just whining!" old man McCree shouted at us. Others jeered and agreed.

Lily flicked them off.

Widow Stephens spit on Courtney. "Lazy piece of crap."

Courtney stilled my sudden move forward with her left hand and pointed with her right. "Fine, screw you guys. We're not giving anything anymore."

Ryan urged us: "Come on guys, my family still needs a few more miracles."

"And how about the schedule changes on that?" I asked him. "Isn't it funny that they've spaced out what your farm needs until the very end? Almost like they made it so you have to be on their side."

He remained quiet but fuming.

Ellis' face seemed to change, then. "I didn't want to have to do this." He motioned toward us, and our two local cops started moving.

"Seriously?" I shouted at him, even as Courtney, Lily, and I backed up.

"The town needs these miracles," he proclaimed. "Or else it'll die. You're putting us all in danger with your selfishness."

I looked around for recognition of the absurdity of what he'd said, but the townsfolk were all of one face: angry. My parents were among them, glowering at me with fire. I looked to Courtney and Lily; our community had made one mistake in assigning us our duties: we were fitter than ever.

So, we ran.

The cops tried to get after us, but they had no idea how fast we'd gotten. They tried to chase us a bit, but by the time they gave up and returned to their car, we were long gone. We broke into a house, gathered clothes, bags, and food, and took to the open fields and forests around town. From there, we watched.

Our first fear was that they would use the Angel to find us or punish us somehow. We watched from deep in the trees that evening; when they shouted for retribution, the Angel darkened—not dimmed, but darkened, glowing grey rather than white. Fearful, our neighbors rapidly returned to the Charter schedule, but the figure in the sky remained grey nevertheless.

Seemingly overnight, Malinta changed. Where once we'd been a friendly scattering of houses, churches, a movie theater, and a bar, we were now a territory under siege. Bands of townsfolk gathered together and searched the woods each night for us, at first with just flashlights, but then with guns. The first time I thought we were caught, we instead learned what was happening.

Old man McCree apologized to us when he caught us in his house stealing food. Ellis and the men in charge had begun assigning our old energy duties to others who weren't quite so spry, and when they'd gotten sick and tried to resist, they'd been locked into their homes and only let out at dusk. McCree had tried to say something, but they'd threatened him; when he'd still tried to speak up and cause trouble, they'd killed his dog.

In his house, our movement to fight back began. We set up camp in his basement, no longer at risk of being found in the woods by the armed patrols, and we began sneaking around town at night contacting those we could trust.

By the first of June, we finally found Ryan. He was a gaunt and hollow stick figure, not at all the meathead I remembered, and he seemed bereft of willpower to fight back.

"Come on," Lily told him through the window that night. "We're gonna fix this. We need you to be our guy on the inside."

He nodded weakly, and blood leaked from his nose.

That night, we watched the gathering from McCree's upper windows. The Angel's robes had turned black, and its face was neutral sour rather than benevolent. Two men with rifles slung over their shoulders held Ryan on his feet, and his contribution was a ball of grey light about the size of a car. He passed out after giving, and they carried him away—along with several other horrifyingly thin older men and women.

And their miracle that night? A bigger bank building to handle the increased finances flowing into Malinta, or so Ellis said. Another 'emergency.'

The next morning, three haggard men and one tired woman showed up in the proper spot in the woods. Ryan had told them; he'd done as we'd asked. From them, we learned where the patrols would move the next night, and we staged our first ambush to capture guns. The men were weak and hardly put up a fight—they were only dangerous because of their weapons. Ellis was taking more and more every day, leaving them sick and feeble.

But he'd also purchased a shipment of more dangerous weapons and armed his closest men. By August, the evening ceremony became an army-defended fortress we couldn't even approach to watch. On the fifth of August, they took my parents. Previously, hurting loyal followers had been forbidden, but the community had turned on them as our interference had grown more persistent. Fully half of the captured town had grown bitter, angry, and supportive of our cause, and the other half had gotten desperate. I was convinced there was nothing we could do, but Courtney promised me in private we would fix this, even if she had to die doing so.

It all came to a head on the seventh of August, on a summer night so hot that I thought we all might cook alive before any shots could be fired.

Ellis had my parents tied to poles on Turkeyfoot Avenue where we'd all first met and created something miraculous together; now, he held an assault rifle pointed sidelong at them. "I know you're here, you petulant little shits! Come out and fight like men!"

We waited. According to our contacts, he'd given the same speech the previous two nights. He had no way of knowing if we were actually in the buildings all around him; he'd made them all too large and opulent to defend completely with his army. We crouched among palisades and minarets, watching.

"Come forth, Angel!" he called, turning to our Collective Entity as it appeared for the evening.

Courtney clutched my wrist like an iron vise.

Across the street on another roof, I saw Lily grow as pale as the Goth makeup she used to wear.

Our Entity's gorgeous feathered wings had now become leathered, and it had horns in place of a halo. Its face was furious pock-marked anger, and waves of heat radiated from it; enough to heat up the night. The beast was now a Demon—exactly as we had fashioned it to be, together, all of us.

But none of them could see it. The change had been gradual for them. Only we who had been away for a time could see the difference so starkly.

"It's time to end this idiotic revolt once and for all!" Ellis screamed. "Give, now!"

The men and women below—in chains and ropes—gave what little the guards could beat out of them. Little sparks of grey and black floated upwards; ill will for that which had turned against them.

"Come on, Ryan," I whispered, watching him.

He was just a skeleton with skin, now, but I knew he had it in him. He was a good man at the end of the day. We watched as a new color emerged from his chest—red. Blood red. The ball of blood red was beyond description of size or quality; it was his life, his lifeblood, given to force the issue. He fell to the dirt, dead.

The Demon absorbed that crimson light and began to flail.

"They're here," Ellis said loudly. To the beast above, he screamed, "Burn them out!"

A slow creeping red malignancy did begin to burn, starting at its fingers, but not the way Ellis had hoped; roaring against the pain, the Demon turned its other massively muscled arm and lifted it into a fist. The house closest to the ritual exploded in a massive pillar of flame.

"Jesus Christ," Courtney exclaimed beside me, and the men behind us murmured in fear.

The heat was unbearable, but we retreated down through the building and into a dark alleyway. Could he do it again? Normally there had only been one miracle a night, but it turned out it was easier to destroy than it was to create. The Demon lifted its fist again, and the building across from us exploded, showering cinders and fire across the street.

I held Courtney back as she tearfully tried to run for Lily. "They're dead!"

"Goddamnit, we can't wait any longer!"

She was right. We were outnumbered by far, but we would all die if this continued. I gave the signal, and our army of geriatrics rushed the square from four different directions.

The explosion that had killed Lily had also knocked many of the guards onto the ground, and those at our feet immediately threw down their weapons. The ones closer to Ellis, and more loyal, opened fire, but none of us were hit. We'd been prepared to run into the slaughterhouse and go out fighting, but our circle of old men and women slowed to a stop and lowered their guns as the enemy—

Well, they fired above us.

They were just firing to look like they were shooting.

As we stopped and stood still, they began to lower their weapons, too.

"Do it!" Ellis screamed at them, kicking and hitting his own men. "Kill them! Kill them all! They're endangering our livelihoods!"

We all just looked at each other as a literal Demon hovered high above us, watching with fury. The creeping crimson dissolution that Ryan had gifted it had dissolved one entire arm and was beginning to work on its torso.

"It's over," Courtney said calmly but loudly. "Ellis, we made this thing to put out fires." She waved her hand at the flaming houses around us. "Who cares how rich we all get if the town's burned down?"

"I don't give a shit," he screamed back at her. "I'll just take my money and move, and to hell with all of you!" He grabbed my mother as a hostage and began backing away.

Guns were raised again at that. Oh, yes, they were, with hate. My heart hammered in my chest as the entire community aimed their weapons at Ellis. My pistol shook in my hands.

Ellis laughed at Courtney in particular, since she was closest. "We're the gun nuts around here, honey. Your liberal arts degree doesn't mean sh—"

Her single shot took him in the shoulder; he fell back and loosed one round. She fell, and her second shot on the way down hit him in the gut. On the ground and bleeding, she spat, "Anyone can practice aim, asshole."

My mother ran to my father, and the guards untied them both. Together, they ran to me, and I huddled with my family for the first time in as long as I could remember.

Above us, the Demon was half of what it once was.

Leaving my parents to the safety of my allies, I ran to Courtney and kneeled near her as she began choking on her own blood. Ellis, too, was dying. "It didn't have to go like this," I said, with tears running down my face. "Why did it go like this?"

Ellis laughed despite his pain. "You know, kid, I don't even know anymore. I was content before all this." He pushed blood out his mouth. "I didn't want more until I had a taste of it."

I was already holding Courtney's hand as she bled out, but, on a strange feeling, I grabbed his, too. I turned my head briefly to yell: "Somebody get that parchment! We'll make a new Collective Entity. We'll save them! We have to save them!"

But both Courtney and Ellis shook their heads.

I understand why, now, months later. In some part, I do. But I still don't. I never will. I sat there in the town square until dawn, holding their cold hands until the Demon disintegrated into its last fading red wisps with the morning sun. My parents waited, too, immensely apologetic but not daring to speak for all my tears and silent rage.

Once the light came, folks who still had their houses began posting For Sale signs. One by one, we each moved away. There was nothing left to say; our trust had been broken. There's still a Malinta, Ohio, but it's not the same. The community that once existed is gone. The name is still there, the buildings are still there, and the land is still there, but my home is no more.

But, strangely, it had to happen; better a painful memory than a living nightmare. Be careful what you build together, for the better Angels of our nature don't always remain that way.

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#reddit #nosleep #scary #story

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nothing-but-kpop-dreams · 7 years

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BTS Reaction: Waking up from a nightmare involving you (request)

Jin/Seokjin:

He checked his phone, Y/N was still not home, even though he had called multiple times. Asking what’s taking so long, they should’ve been home one hour ago.

Suddenly the phone rings and he throws himself onto it, he read Y/N and his fingers quickly swiped answer.

“Jagi? Where are you?!” he yelled desperately through the phone.

“Help me...” your voice was weak and barely over a whisper. His blood turned cold and he froze up. Just as he opened his mouth to speak again a cold voice answered.

“If you want your little jagi back, be sure to be here in 30 minutes” the voice said and ended the call. Jin didn’t have time to think and ran out the door. The phone dinged, showing he got a text message. It told him the address and Jin had probably never drove so fast in his entire life.

There was still 5 minutes when he arrived to the abandoned factory.

“Come out you bastard!” he yelled, looking everywhere for any sign of life.

“...I’m glad you could come...” the voice said, suddenly your body was in front of him. “Y/N!” Jin yelled as he ran towards your body.

“don’t... come... clos-” you croaked forward, your face panicked. But before he could reach you a gunshot was heard.

He stared at you with big eyes as the blood started pouring.

“Now it’s your turn” the voice said from behind and another gunshot was heard.

Jin jerked up, wide awake, sweating and with ragged breath. “Was that just a dream? It had to be... Right Y/N?” he asked and turned to your side of the bed, just to find you not there “Y/N?” he asked starting to get panicked again.

He quickly got up from the bed and started to put on his clothes as he called you with the other hand “Y/N!” he yelled through the apartment.

“Yes?” you asked from the kitchen and Jin fell to the ground. As your hear all the ruckus you decided to walk out just to find your boyfriend on the floor with his pants sloppily pulled on. “Jin?” you asked getting a bit worried, he looked like he had ran an entire marathon.

“You’re safe” he whispered as you crouched beside him “You’re safe” he repeated and then hugged you.

Suga/Min Yoongi:

“Yoongi, I can’t do this anymore.” There was not an ounce of pain in her voice.

“What?!? Why?!?”

“Are you stupid or something?”

“No! I thought things were great between us! Why do you want to end this?”

“Because I am tired of coming second to your music... Even if I did come first, I don’t love you anymore. I don’t think I ever really did.”

She was expressionless as she walked out of his room. It wasn’t until he heard door shut that he could move his body again and he ran to the door. When he opened it, she was nowhere in sight.

He woke up instantly. “Y/n?” he called out, but there was no one to respond considering that he woke up alone in the studio.

He sat up in a daze, his lyrics notes stuck to his cheeks. “Was that real?” he asked himself. He pulled his phone out and gave Y/n a call. She didn’t answer, so he called again... and again... and again. Every time he called, he only got her voicemail.

“Oh no.”

He jumped out of his chair and made his way to the apartment he shared with y/n.

“Did she really leave? That was just a dream...Right? No, she didn’t leave me... but it felt so real and we did fight over y schedule last week... I need to find her.”

He opened the front door and found y/n knocked out on the couch in front of the tv. It was a scene that both relieved his mind and broke his heart. Sure he was glad that Y/n was there, but he knew she was waiting for him. She probably stayed up hours just to see him a bit before bed. It didn’t hit him till now that a great person like y/n should deserve a relationship where she should go so much out of her way to try and see him a bit more in the day.

He went up to her, gently waking her up. “Babe, wake up.” he whispered.

Keeping her eyes closed, she made a grumpy face and pushed his arms away. It was a move that made him second guess if the dream really was just a dream.

“Y/n, wake up. You can’t stay asleep on the couch.”

It took a while, but eventually he got her to wake up. “Yoongi? What time is it?”

“3 am... What are you doing on the couch?”

She rubbed her eyes. “You said you would be home by 11. I was staying up till you got back.”

“Are you mad at me?” he asked nervously.

“No, why?” she yawned

“Because I wasn’t home when I said I would be.”

“I just figured you got busy.”

He saw down next to her and held her tight. “I love you.” he said. It felt nice when she placed her sleepy head on his chest.

“Me too”

“I’m sorry y/n, this wont happen again okay. I promise that I come home ever night.”

She looked up at him. She was so tired her eyes were barely open. “Ok, but can we go to bad now?”

Jhope/Jung Hoseok:

"I don’t like this Y/N” he said as he hugged your arm tighter. You were back down in the reptile room of the zoo, because you had to pass it to get back to the food court.

“I know jagi, but they won’t hurt you. They’re behind glass, they can’t do anything. See?” you said and put your hand towards one of the glasses. Just to find it not there anymore. Your eyes grew big as you got pulled into the snake habitat by one of the big snakes.

“Y/N!” he yelled as he saw you getting pulled deeper into the forest like room. He hesitated a bit, the snakes on the ground were looking at him hungrily. Or at least that’s what he thought.

“HOBI!” your shrill voice rang, snapping him out of confusion. He stepped into the habitat, and jumped and screamed a bit as a snake slithered over his foot. You yelled again and he closed his eyes focusing. “Come on, you have to save Y/N” he then started sprinting into the habitat, into the green leaves. Ignoring all the snakes, and only focusing on getting to you.

He didn’t have to run for long before he could see your shirt. He quickly ran there, but just as you made eye contact with each other, the ground beneath him disappeared. “Y/N!” he yelled as he fell down the pit. A snake pit.

The last thing he saw before getting covered in snakes were you getting wrapped up by a giant snake.

“AAAAAAAAAH” he yelled as he felt something touch his arm. His arms were flailing all over the place, trying to protect him from the snakes.

“HOBI!” you yelled again since he seemed to not have heard you before. You tried to pin his arms down, while watching out so you wouldn’t get hit by a flying hand.

This time he heard you “Y/n?” he asked and opened his eyes to see you hovering over him. “Y/N!” he yelled relieved. And that’s when he started to cry. He hugged you close to him, breathing in your smell.

“It’s okay, it was just a bad dream” you say stroking your hand over his back. As he calmed down a bit he sat back and dried his face a bit.

“I thought I lost you”

Rap monster/Kim Namjoon:

You were in the kitchen, making yourself a midnight snack.

“Y/n! Y/n!” you could hear your boyfriend calling out to you.

“Over here!”

You heard practically every door in the hallway open and close. “No, babe, the kitchen!” you called out.

Soon he appeared in the kitchen, waddling as fast as his tired body could move him. “Y/n, you are okay!” he hugged you tightly.

“Of course I am. What’s with you?” you asked, giving him a ‘weirdo’ face.

He didn’t answer your question, he just gave you a kiss, still holding you as tight as he could.

“Babe, why are you being weird?”

“I had a bad dream.” he whimpered.

“What did you dream about?”

He shook his head.

“C’mon, tell me. Letting it out will make you feel better.”

He let out a deep sigh. “... I dreamt that a giant 20 foot Ryan was chasing you in this skyscraper and I was trying to save you and he chased you all the way to the roof and he pushed you off and I couldn’t get to you in time.”

“A giant Ryan?” you giggled.

“Baby, it’s not funny! I was so sad and scared when I woke up and you weren’t next to me. I thought I really lost you!”

“Namjoon, it was a stupid dream. You dreamt that a giant Ryan was chasing me and pushed me off a roof.”

Rap monster laughed a bit. “Well, when you put it that way, it sounds stupid.”

“Go back to sleep. I’ll go to bed when I am done eating.”

“Nope, I’m not letting go of you until you come back to bed with me.”

Jimin/Park Jimin:

[Missed calls from Jagi: 3]

>> [3:17 am] I can’t do this anymore Jimin

>> [3:17 am] Help me. I can’t take it.

>> [3:18 am] I’m sorry. I loved you.

<< [4:53 am] Why aren’t you answering your phone?

<< [4:53 am] What do you mean loved me??

<< [4:54 am] Jagi?

He called again hoping for Y/N to answer but to no avail. It went straight into voicemail. Y/N had been acting weird for a while, and he did not feel good about this. “What does she mean by ‘loved?’”

“Where are you going?” Suga yelled after him as he left the dorm “I have to find Y/N” he yelled back as he hurried to get to your shared apartment. As he was driving he’d call you over and over again.

“Why aren’t you answering?” he’d start to panic slowly. “Y/N is okay Jimin, calm down. Just drive there safely, and you’ll be there in no time. Everything will be okay. You’re just overreacting” he tried to tell himself.

He finally arrived to your apartment and he wasted no time to run there. “Y/N open the door!” he yelled as he knocked on it. He could hear the TV was on, maybe you were just asleep?

He fumbled with the extra keys he had to get the door open. Maybe you were just asleep? Maybe you saw a bad movie and fell asleep on the couch? That must be it.

“Jagi?” he asked as he walked over to your limp body on the couch. Your phone was on the table, and in your hand you had an empty bottle of pills. As he saw the bottle he felt sick to his stomach. “No no no no no” he repeated as he tried for your pulse. But it wasn’t there. He quickly let go of your cold wrist, tears already streaming down his cheeks. He let out a scream of agony.

He screamed as he woke up, tears streaming down his face as he breathed heavily. He reach out to the spot next to him, but he didn’t fell y/n there. Her side of the bed was empty. “Where is Y/N?” This couldn’t be real. It was just a dream, it had to have been dream. He panicked and jumped out of bed to search for her through the apartment.

The living room was empty, but he became even more alert when he heard something from the kitchen. It sounded awfully a lot like pills. “No!” he yelled as he ran into the kitchen to see her putting something small and round into her mouth. He quickly ran to her and pulled her hand from her face.

“Jimin, what the fuck?!” she mumbled, a mouth full of whatever it was.

“Spit that out!”

“What?!?”

“Y/n spit that out!” he cried.

She didn’t, she just chewed what was in her mouth while staring at him as if he were crazy. “Babe, I’m just eating a snack.”

“Snack? Eating? Wh- What are you eating?”

She didn’t answer, she just held out the package of M&M’s. “What is going on? Whats with you?”

He couldn’t help but feel so stupid as he let out a little chuckle and sighed in relief. “Nothing jagi, nothing”

V/Kim Taehyung:

He felt warm sun on his skin. Y/n was next to him on the standing staring at the calm ocean.

“Let’s go swimming?” she suggested

He looked around the beach, not a soul in sight. “Yeah, just you and me!” he smiled.

They walked into the refreshing water, letting the small waves rock them a bit.

“Tae, let’s go in deeper.” They did so, the water going up to their waists. “Deeper!” she smiled pulling him deeper until the water was up to their shoulders.

“Maybe we should go a bit closer to shore.” He said, getting a bad feeling in his stomach for some reason.

Y/n pouted. “But I want to float. Let’s go further.”

He couldn’t say no to her. He let her pull his further away from the beach. Now they were in water so deep, he couldn’t feel the sand under his feet any more. He looked back to shore and it looked like if it were miles away.

“Tae, let’s play again!” she said with excitement. “Let’s see who can hold their breath the longest.

“Ok”

At the same time they dunked their heads underwater. He barely held his breath for 45 second when he came back for air. Y/n wasn’t up yet, so he waited. Another 30 seconds went by and she hadn’t come up yet. “Wow she can hold her breath for a long time.”

Another 30 second went by and that’s when panic set in. He swung out his limbs, to try and feel for her in the dark water. “Y/n? Y/n?!?” He swam around, trying to feel for her, but he couldn’t find her

He dunk his head under water again. He didn’t care how much the salt water hurt his yes, he kept them open as he tried to look for her, just to see nothing.

He woke up gasping for air. “Y/n?!? Y/n?!?”

“What?!? Tae, what happened?!?” you freaked, running out of the restroom, fresh out of the shower.

“Y/n, you’re out of the ocean!” he shouted as he jumped out of bed and practically tackled you with a hug.

“Tae, what ocean?”

“We- We were at he beach and we went into the water and- and we held our breath under water and- and-and you never came back up!” he whimpered.

“Tae, calm down. It was only a dream.” you said softly.

“Dream? Dream...” he said to himself, looking around the place and realizing he was in their bedroom. He let out a deep breath and smiled. “I was so scared I thought it was real.”

You hugged him tight, trying to calm him down, rubbing his back and giving him light kisses on his neck. “It’s okay baby, I’m fine. Go back to bed. I’m going to dry my hair before I lay down.”

“Nope!” He said pulling you to the bed with him.

Jungkook/Jeon Jungkook:

“I’m right here Jungkook!” The demonic doll screamed

He quickly grabbed y/n’s hand and dragged her away, both of them running down the hall to the stairs.

“You can’t run from me!” he could hear the evil voice as if the doll was right behind him

“Y/n, let’s run faster!” he tugged on her arm and helped her run as fast as him.

They made it down stairs and they went to the back door. He swung open his last door to escape through to see the doll already there waiting for him. “You can’t leave Jungkook!”

He screamed. “Y/n, turn around!” He spun around, but y/n wasn’t behind him. Instead he came face to face with the doll.

“I got you Jungkook!”

“Agggghhhh!” He shot up in bed in a cold sweat. He felt out of breath as if he really was running. “Y/n?” immediately he looked all over the dark room for her.

“Baby shhhhhhhh!” y/n groaned in a zombie voice.

“Jagi!” a rush of relief hit him that it really was just a dream. He practically pounced on her, holding her tight. “Thank goodness you are okay!”

“Agh! Jungkook, get off!” he whined. She pushed him off, sat up and turned on the lamp on the night stand. She glared back at him with squinting eyes and a head of bushy hair. “Jungkook, the fuck? I’m trying to sleep.”

He didn’t care how grumpy she was, he was just glad none of it was real. He hugged her again, resting his chine on her head. “Sorry baby. I didn’t mean to wake you. It was just a nightmare.”

“A nightmare?” To his surprise, Y/n started laughing.

“Why are you laughing?”

“Ha! Cuz let me guess, you dreamt about the scary movie we saw before bed, the one you made me see with you?”

“...Maybe...”

She started laughing harder. “Aish, Jungkook you made me watch that movie in hopes of getting me scared to get me to cuddle you, but here you are having nightmares.”

“Hey! The movie was scary okay!”

Y/n took a look at her phone. “Baby, it’s 3am, let’s go back to sleep. You have practice in the morning.”

“But I don’t think I can sleep.” he pouted

She cupped his face, looking at him with tired eyes. “Baby, it was just a dream okay? A nightmare is one thing, but imagine how scary your choreographer is going to be tomorrow when you are too tired to pay attention in practice.”

“Ugh, you’re right.”

“I know I am. I’m always right.” she kissed his forehead. “Now sleep.” She turned around to turn the lamp off.

“Wait!”

“What?”

“... Can you leave the light on?”

She laughed again, resting her head on her pillow. “Night, love you.” she yawned

“I love you. Night.”

-Admin Boat and Admin Satellite

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alwaysforyouscully · 7 years

Text

Observation: Part 3 of Plausible Theory

Part One: Plausible Theory

Part Two: Hypothesis

Summary: Mulder and Scully come to terms with their feeling for each other. Some sexy time ensues.

Rating: NC-17

Warnings: Smut, Smut and a little fluff

Mulder locked the door and turned for the bedroom. He paused partway there to compose himself. He wasn't sure of exactly what Scully had planned but anything that involved her and her bedroom would probably be his undoing.

He suddenly felt like some pervert for all of the times he dreamt of how this exact scenario would play out and all of the things he did to her in those dreams.

He enters the bedroom and Scully is in the bathroom, the door ajar. He closes the door and sits on the edge of the bed. How could someone with his vast knowledge of porn not come up with some great line to make this not awkward.

Scully comes out of the bathroom in a silky robe. Her legs are bare, so no pajama bottoms, 'Good Lord' Mulder thinks to himself as he watches her put her laundry in the dirty clothes hamper.

Scully is trying to not make eye contact, just watching Mulder out of the corner of her eye. When they were in the hotel room two days ago she learned a side of Mulder that she didn't know existed. He was a sexual man. It sounds strange but even with all his innuendo, the tapes that weren’t his and his constant evasion of her personal space she never saw that raw sexual side of him. She had hoped it was there once she started having unpartnerly feelings for him but being in its presence was something altogether different.

She turned towards him and a smile came to her lips. Mulder looks like a 14 year old boy that is about to play 'Spin-the-Bottle' with the head cheerleader. She comes to stand in front of him and touches his arm.

“Mulder?” she asks “Do you want to just go to sleep? I don't want to pressure you. I didn't ask you to stay for, well..” Now her heart is racing like it was when Ryan Sampson asked her to the Senior Prom. “I mean, we can wait, if you want.”

Mulder takes her hand and brings it to his lips. “Scully, this may sound crass but you have known me for a long time and if I have made it this far without objection... then, I would really like to continue. You never know when I will be an ass again and lose my chance forever.” He looks up into her eyes and his smile is all the reassurance she needs.

“How about you shower and I’ll get us a beer, okay?”

“Okay”

Mulder retreats to the shower and once done he heads to his drawer in her dresser and pauses at the irony. He has had a drawer in her dresser for years and she his but neither thought that was strange or unusual for two people that are 'just friends' to share something so intimate.

He dons a clean pair of boxer briefs and a t-shirt just as Scully comes back in the room and turns off the overhead light. She sits the beers on her nightstand and turns on the lamp.“Mulder, in case I forget to tell you later. This was the best night of my life.”

Mulder reaches up and cups the back of her head. He pulls her towards him and Scully braces herself with her hand on his chest. Their lips meet in the lightest kiss either can remember.

Scully pushes back slightly, “Mulder, don't be afraid. Please.”

With that Mulder pulls her to his body, crushing her lips with his. He kissing her with such force that Scully see stars. She returns his kiss with the same fervor, her tongue slipping past his in a slow intimate dance. Mulder breaks the kiss to catch his breath and pulls Scully's head back to look into her eyes. They are wet with unshed tears and he knows his looks the same.

“I love you, Scully. For so, so long.” He sits on the end of the bed and pulls her between his legs. His erection is already straining against his boxers and he struggles to slow his breaths.

Scully slides her hands down his sides and slips her fingers under the edge of his shirt. She leans in and kisses him lightly as she inches his shirt up and over his head. Mulder puts his hands on her hips and grins at the look of wonder on her face as she studies the dips and valleys of his chest and skims her nails over is tight nipples.

Mulder sucks in a sharp breath at the contact, suddenly remembering how goods it feels to have someone else in charge of your pleasure. His hands move to her robe and untie the sash. Scully's tiny body is covered in an even tinier set of black lace lingerie.

“Christ Scully, you're so beautiful.”

Scully ducks her head an blushes at his compliment. Mulder looks over her shoulder and realizes her dressing mirror is in front of him against the wall.

“Scully, turn around.” She looks up and he cups her face, kissing her soundly. “I never want you to doubt how I see you, just how prefect you are to me, so turn around so I can show you.”

Scully turns, Mulder's hands on her bare hips and freezes at her reflection in the mirror.

“Mulder, please. She says as she tries to turn back to him.

Mulder holds her in place.“Scully, trust me.” He scoots closer to the edge of the bed and runs his hands up and down her arms. He rests his chin on her shoulder, catching her eye in the mirror's reflection.

“You see Scully, I have always found your mind beautiful. It has the ability to process the most complex problems and find a solution. Its ability to suppress your urge to kill me is also a benefit.” He jokes.

This makes Scully relax a little. “Your heart Scully is so kind. I will never understand how something so big can be housed in someone your size. Look at your eyes Scully. I could lose myself in their deeps. I always now how you feel regardless of what your words say.” Mulder has moved his hands to her hips and is steadily circling his thumbs into the dimples on her lower back.

She looks at him in the mirror and he tilts his head to rest next to her temple.

“God Scully”.... His hands leave her hips to skim up her sides and she shivers. He pulls her closer between his legs and his hands reach the underside of her breasts.

Scully lets out a huff at the contact and drops her head. She realizes what he is about to do and her earlier embarrassment returns.

“No, No Scully, don't look away.” He chides. She is trembling and he kisses her check and runs his tongue along her ear, never breaking eye contact. His hands cup her breasts and on instinct she arches her back.

“Mulder.” She breathes. He runs his thumbs over her nipples and they strain against the fabric.

“Look how perfect your breasts fit in my hands.” He moves to unclasp her bra and she stiffens.

“Shh, its just me.” He releases the clasp and slips the material over her shoulders and down her arms. He pulls the bra away and lets it fall to the ground.

“Scully look how your skin contrasts with the color of your nipples.” He brushes his thumb over the left one and watches it pucker in the glass's reflection.

“This nipple,” he begins, “is dark coral against the porcelain of your skin. It makes my mouth water. I always wished you're body looked like this under your strict suits and doctor scrubs but Scully the real thing is so much better.” He continues to pinch her nipple as she twists her hips in an effort to release some of the pressure building in her core. Looking at her like this, Mulder is sure he won't last until the naked part but is determined to to make his point.

He slides his free hand up to her throat and pulls her chin so her lips meet his. He kisses her slow and easy, his tongue sliding along her parched lips and into her mouth to caress her tongue. She moans and tries to turn into his body but he stops her with a hand on her hip.

“Not yet, I'm not finished.” He returns them to their previous position and runs his hand along her waist to rest just above the line of her panties. Her skin quivers and he slips his hand lower and gauges her reaction in the reflection. “Scully if I told you how many times I dreamt of this moment, of being here with you about to make love to you; I'm sure you would think I was a creep but Scully you have been the object of my desires for so long its just second nature to me now.

“Oh, Mulder. I have been so afraid of this, of me and you.. she ducks her head again.“

“Scully look up, you don't want to miss this.” Mulder slips his fingers under the waist of her panties and pulls them down her legs to her knees.

Scully steps out of them and in a moment of bravado she meets his eyes in the mirror. Mulder takes in her reflection and tries to memorize this exact second in time. He places his hand just above her curls and pulls her back the last inch into the vee of his thighs. His boxers do little to hide his desire for her and she jumps slightly at the feeling.

“Damn, Scully. I hope I can hold out. You are so fucking sexy.” He pushes her forward, away from his body and stands behind her. He removes his underwear and sits back down on the bed. He pulls her close and kisses her neck.

Clearing his throat, he continues with his observation. His erection is pressed along her spine as he whispers in her ear.

“This color,” he runs his fingers through the soft hair at her sex, “is just as I imagined. Just a bit lighter than what I see everyday.” His slips his fingers lower and Scully raises higher on her tiptoes, the lower his fingers move. He cups her and kisses the curve of her neck before locking his gaze with hers in the mirror.

“Scully, I always dreamed you would be wet for me,” his finger slides between her folds. “Shit, Scully.” He continues until her reaches her clit, circling lightly.

“Fucking, hell. I was right.” Scully bucks her hips to gain more contact.

“Mulder, don't stop.” Mulder pulls his fingers from her wet folds and Scully cries out.

“Noo!”

He places his hands on her hips and pulls her onto his lap. Her thighs draped over his, her glistening pussy exposed to the mirror.

“That's it Scully, did I do this to you? Did I make you wet like this? This is what I hoped to for, you aroused because of me”. Mulder runs his finger along her opening and stops again to circle her clit. Scully rocks her hips into his hand. “Look in the mirror Scully, watch me make you come.” He runs his finger along her swollen lips and slows at her opening.

He watches in the mirror as his finger dips inside. Scully is fixed on the image in front of her, as well. His finger slides in and out of her body and he can feel her muscles shaking with effort. Mulder slides his wet finger out and up to her bundle of nerves, Scully arches her back causing her ass to press harder against his dick. Mulder grunts and drips two fingers into her body. He watches his fingers move in and out of her dripping pussy and has to close his eyes.

“God, Scully I need to be inside you. I need to feel you around me.”

Scully, ever the good sport, says “Scoot back a little.”

Mulder moves until the backs of his knees are touching the bed and Scully raises up to shift back onto his lap. She brings her knees up on the bed to rest on either side of his thighs and reaches between her legs to grasp his cock. Mulder starts and then relaxes into her touch. She braces one hand his knee and guides him home with the other. Just as she slips the head of his cock past her swollen lips, she looks towards the mirror. “Mulder, look up. You don't want to miss this.”

He sits up a littler higher and catches their reflection in the mirror. She holds his gaze as she sinks down on him for the first time. For all the scenes he has seen on those tapes this is by far the most erotic. Mulder has to look away in an effort to stave off his orgasm.

She reaches the hilt and stretches her arm up to cup the back of his neck for leverage. Scully begins to rock in a steady rhythm. The sensations are like nothing she has felt before and she raises higher and sinks deeper on each stroke. Mulder's brow is covered in sweat and his thighs are shaking. He reaches up and runs his palm over her nipple, stopping to pinch and roll her flesh between his fingers.

Scully moans and increases the angle of he hips. Mulder takes the hint and brings his other hand back to her folds and spreads his fingers to slide along each side of his dick as she rides him. He coats his fingers and slides them back together over her bundle over nerves. Scully cries outs and bucks forward, losing her rhythm.

Mulder continues his motion and pinches her nipple harder. “That's it Scully, you going to come for me?” Her hips rock frantically and Mulder can feel her swell around him.

“Open your eyes Scully, look how beautiful you are.” With a final circle of his fingers, Scully's orgasm rips through her and Mulder has to wrap his arm around her waist to keep her on his lap.

She is trembling and spasming around is cock when she realizes his is still rock hard inside of her. “Mulder, you didn't?...”

“Not yet, I was too busy watching you. God, Scully that was magnificent.”

Scully gingerly moves from his lap and rest on she knees facing him. His cock is thick, wet and standing proud against his stomach. She leans down and runs her tongue along it length.

“Fucking hell, Scully...I don't think I can take that right now.”

“Shh, Mulder. I'm a doctor, remember. She reaches down and applies just the right amount of pressure to the base of his cock and Mulder relaxes a little. Holding that spot, Scully rolls her tongue around the head and slips him into her mouth. She licks and cleans her arousal off him, slowly bobbing up and down his length.

Mulder watches with rapt fascination and the sight in the mirror, her hair tickling his thighs. She releases is dick with a pop and raises up to kiss his lips. The familiar pressure is back since she removed her hand and he needs to be back inside her right now.

He wraps and arm around her and lowers her to the bed. Her thighs are resting on his and he moves closer to her body. He spreads her legs and runs his thumb from the bottom of her opening to her clit.

Scully raises her hips with his motions and he repeats it. On the next pass he stops at her opening and pushes his thumb inside.

“Aww, Mulder.” She reaches for his body in an effort to bring him closer.

He removes his finger and runs in along this length. Raising up on his knees, his positions himself against her entrance and rocks slightly.

“Mulder, please. I need you inside me!”

Mulder grabs the back of her knees and pulls her legs back even with her chest and enters her in one long stoke. They moan in unison as Mulder starts to pound into her body.

”Scully, I have never... God you're so tight. I'm not going to last, baby.” He leans back and releases one of her legs, bringing the other over his shoulder.

The new angle causes a warmth to spread across her pelvis. “Yes, Mulder, right there.” Scully begs.

Mulder brushes his thumb over her clit just as he tumbles over the edge taking Scully right behind him. He doesn’t know how long they lay there, a pile of tangled limbs with is semi-hard cock still inside her but his skin is starting to cool and he can fill goosebumps raise on his skin. Without a word he pulls her close and kisses her soundly.

“Wow, Scully.”

“Yes, that was wow, alright.” Scully says as she shifts to get me comfortable.

Mulder buries his face in the curve of her neck and brushes his lips against her skin. Scully is steadily stroking his hair and whispers in his ear. “Did you call me baby?”

“Umm...yeah. I ..”

“Don't worry Mulder, after a few well timed babies, I'm usually a push over.”

“Is that all it takes, Scully. If I had only know all these years.”

Mulder looks up to see her smiling a full watt smile that he rarely gets to see. He rolls on top of her, never slipping from her body. Her giggle makes his dick stir inside her and she groans.

“Mulder.” She breaths as she pulls him down for a kiss. Mulder rocks his hips but breaks the kiss to look in her eyes.

Scully sees the emotions playing across his face and swallows past the lump in her throat. “I love you, Mulder”

“I love you too, Scully.” Now lets test that baby calling theory of yours”

#MSR #nc-17 #smut #fanfic #here you go ladies

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sascerides · 7 years

Text

The Smell of Love (A Short Story)

This year, I challenged myself to write 12 short stories. One for each month. Each of them inspired by a randomly generated word. Story number 1 and 2 (as well as some stories from last year) are here. Word number three was “Hate”. here’s story number two:

Nat always smells like defiance. Charlene can smell it before she even enters the flat. Nat is always ready to fight, always ready to stand up, hands on hips, spite in their eyes. The smell is on Nat’s coat and Nat’s hair and Nat’s embrace when it consumes her. It’s a smell like pine needles and frost. Like a forest refusing to bend to the wind. Perhaps it is a German thing, perhaps it’s just Nat. Charlene doesn’t know why but she loves that smell. It makes her feel brave. As brave as Nat.

Nat’s speakers are always playing old fashioned rock. Nat’s hips are always moving along to the sound and their fingers are always playing out the solos on Nat’s invisible guitar. Charlene loves Nat for all of their existence. Charlene loves Nat. Just, not like that.

She knows that Nat loves her just like that. It reeks off Nat's skin and breath. Charlene can smell the love the moment she sees Nat. It’s the smell of melting candle wax and newly picked flowers. The smell of infatuation with every word that Nat says. Charlene knows and it is okay, because Nat knows the feeling isn’t mutual. Of course, Nat has no idea that Charlene knows, or how she knows, but all that does not matter. What matters is Nat’s voice and Nat’s hips and Nat trying to convince her download Tinder.

“Listen, Charlie” they say. “I just want you to be happy.” and Nat’s laugh. That stupid smile of crooked teeth and dimples. “And I want you to get laid so you’ll stop being so broody”.

Charlene doesn’t want to get laid. She wants someone to hold her hand in the cinema. Someone to kiss her under street lamps. Someone to take her to their favourite places in the city. Someone to pick her up in the airport. Someone to stay too long on the U-bahn just to kiss her goodbye one more time. Someone to stay up all night to text her. Someone who will smell like chocolate and freshly roasted coffee and red wine. Just someone to hold my hand. Someone like Nat. Just. Not Nat.

Charlene has fallen in love before. She was in love with a woman and with her hair and her smile and they way that she danced. A woman who smelled of ambition and happiness. The minty smell of striving that made Charlene dizzy and enthusiastic and nervous all at once. Until one day she looked at her and smelled nothing but the sour smell of rejection. And I cannot face that from Nat. Charlene doesn’t want to get laid, she wants to fall in love. But not with Nat.

Of course, in the end, Charlene does download Tinder and Nat sets up her profile. Picking out the best pictures. Charlene watching over a cup of tea as Nat’s badly-painted fingernails run over the screen swiping this way and that. Looking for someone for Charlene to love.

Charlene has loved before. She loved a man with all her heart and he loved her back. Whenever he smiled she could smell his dreams and she dreamt them too. Sweet and flowery scents taking her by the hand leading her into a life they were going to live together. Together. Until one day he looked at her and he smelled like nothing at all. And I cannot face that from Nat. Now, she is ready to love again. Perhaps. Just not Nat. Not Nat. “You need three dates in one day” Nat explains. Nat knows about these things. “You take the best one first. Somewhere nice. A café perhaps. I know a good one. And then…” Nat stops mid-sentence to drum along to a drum solo in the air. Eyes closed, the tattoos on their arms dancing, that smile again. “Then, you take someone to a bar. Unless things go good with the first one that is.” Nat giggles and raises a fist in the air “Oh you’ve got a match”

Nat does not show Charlene the phone before continuing the plan. "Just a bit of wine and talk, nothing dramatic”. Nat takes a sip of tea as if all these things are common knowledge. Charlene says nothing. “If that goes well, you take them to a club and you dance and then… well then you have sex”. Charlene doesn’t really care about that bit. But the wine sounds nice. She says nothing.

“If it doesn’t go well, you go to a club anyway, where you’ve arranged to meet number three” Nat smiles that sly smile and moves their hands along to the music. Charlene can smell the thrill in the air from Nat’s fingers as they dance. And she can smell the love even from across the room. “So… either way. You get tipsy… and you get laid. Bullet. Proof. Who da man?”. Charlene isn’t sure she likes this plan, or who the man is. “Right” Nat snickers. “None of us are… now, I’ve picked out three people for you, what do you think?”.

“I’ll have a look” Charlene says and proceeds to not take the phone. Nat puts it in her hand and waltzes over to the globe-bar the two of them found sitting around at a Trödelmarkt that one time. The sun was shining and Nat had just shaved their hair for the first time. Back then Nat did not smell of love. They smelled of excitement and confusion, and ever so faintly of fear. But that was months ago.”Whiskey? It’s almost noon". Charlene says nothing. Nat pours her a whiskey anyway. “you know, sometimes I wonder if you understand me at all”. Nat says. “Iz mein Deutsch accent too zick?” Charlene just laughs and mumbles a no into her whiskey before looking at the person on her screen. Perhaps it isn’t too early for whiskey at all.

The first one is a man. He isn’t exactly handsome but his pictures are good. His profile says he’s tall but Nat ensures her that “They always add a few centimetres to their height. And to their shoe size.” Nat says this with a wink and Charlene giggles although she’s not sure she understands the joke. The thing about Nat is. I don’t have to understand. Nat doesn’t mind.

The profile says the man likes art, but he does not specify which kind. He says he likes intelligent conversation. Nat assures her that means he likes to talk and be listened to. “Just a man after your mind huh?”. Charlene sips her whiskey and nods. She does like to listen. But mainly to Nat. “Well... have a look at the next one” Nat says. The smell of excitement sharp in the air between them. The smell of it making Charlene feel drunker than the whiskey. “Do you want a girlfriend or a boyfriend this time?” Nat asks. “It doesn’t really matter” Charlene says. I just want someone. "Or someone in between i suppose?” That last word hangs between them, rosy with hope. “I suppose so” Charlene says. Yes. I suppose.

The next one has long brown hair and big doe eyes. Charlene suspects she enlarged them for the photo. Her profile has lots of people on the pictures and they all seem to be having an awful good time. All the time. She is holding champaign glasses and wearing red lipstick. She is photographed leaning against a wall staring into the distance. Her name is french and Charlene is sure she can’t pronounce it. Her profile says she is looking for fun. “Nichts Festes”. No strings attached.

“Nat, I…” Charlene sips her whiskey. Nat is dancing along to the music, bare feet on the wooden floor. “I’m not sure about this. I mean… am I looking for fun? 'No strings attached.’" Nat is dancing over the floor, glass still in hand. They’re tipsier than Charlene by far. “You’re young darling Charlie. You’re young and you’re in Berlin. When are you going to live if not now? come now. Text her. don’t you think she’s schön”. She is. Charlene has to admit. And Nat tells her to live. Nat knows about these things. Charlene types out “hi”. Nat grabs her phone and adds a wink emoji before she can send. And you’re smiling that stupid smile of yours again.

The third one is handsome. Far too handsome. The way Nat describes him his face is the love child of Hugh Jackman and Ryan Gosling. Nat licks their lips while saying this. Giggling. Charlene giggles too. But he is too handsome. Half his pictures are taken in the gym. Shirtless. His eyes look serious. As if he is lost or afraid or perhaps he is angry. Charlene catches herself sniffing at the screen trying to tell but of course all she smells is the piny, burning smell of Nat leaning over the screen. And the whiskey. “Nat I… “ She hears herself saying again. "Are you sure about this”.

Nat laughs. “It’s all good fun Charlie. You need to have fun. It’s not like you need to marry any of these. Just text them for now. See what happens!” Nat spins around the room, empty glass in hand, arms spread out like an eagle. “Live Charlie! Live!”. And so, Charlene does. She downs her whiskey and she lives. And as she walks down to the S-Bahn she can smell the excitement on her own breath. And something like candles burning and fresh flowers too. The train is crowded with lovers. Charlene never understood why there are so many couples in spring. The whole city is pungent at this time of year. Charlene hates the smell of love. Or maybe it’s the smell of other’s people’s love she hates. The sweet, sticky scent of their kisses on the station. It smells like toffee and candy floss and these are not the smells of love, these are the smells of pretensions. Two teenagers are snogging on the seat in front of Charlene and she almost has to hold her nose. The boy smells of infatuation and blindness and hope. She, on the other hand. She has the soft, spicy smell of doubt. Of wanting to be somewhere else but not knowing where. And this is not what I want.

In her phone are messages from three people she has no idea how will smell. The woman is asking what she is looking for. Nat, just, not Nat. The shirtless man is sending pictures. Most of them shirtless. This is not what I want. The last one is asking what the last book she read is. Charlene answer the questions with lies and the pictures with a forced selfie. In reply, she gets a wink. She does not know what to say.

In the afternoon, leaning over a bridge, watching the stream go by, she calls Nat up. For a moment she can almost smell Nat’s crush over the phone. Or perhaps it is just something in the wind. Perhaps someone is eating strawberries somewhere upriver. Perhaps a couple just walked past. And then the smell is gone and Nat is laughing on the other end of the phone.

“So have you arranged to meet them yet?”. “Well…”. “Come on Charlie! You can do it. Or do you need me to?” “No… I’ll do it. Just gimme a bit of time”. She wants to tell Nat no. She wants to say “this is not what I’m looking for” but she does not know what she is looking for. I’m just looking for love. I’m just looking for someone who smells like they care. And what would Nat think of that. How would they smell if they knew?

Nat does not remember the time that they kissed. Nat was drunk on vodka and laughter and love. Charlene was drunk on the smells of Nat and then they kissed. Nat kissed her and she kissed back. Inhaling that sweet, rosy smell of infatuation and, just for a moment, smelling it on herself. And then she remembered. She remembered the smell of indifference the smell of rejection, the smell of hatred. And how would Nat smell in a month from now, in a year or in five? Nat was too drunk to remember now, and Charlene will not mention that night. Not now. Now it does not matter. What matters is Nat is with me still. Just not like that.

Charlene hangs up, standing there in the wind. Smelling the city and the people in it. Smelling their love and their fear and their hope and, from somewhere down the river, a little bit of hate. In the end, she arranges to meet the art-lover at a café, the woman at a bar and finally, she will go to a club to dance with the man Nat has now named Mr. Forgot-My-Shirt ( and “If I had abs like that I wouldn’t wear a shirt either”).

The first man says he knows a café. “It’s a really cool place. I know lots of writers who come there to work. You’ve probably never heard of it”. Charlene has. She’s been there about eight times until Nat decided it was becoming to mainstream. “It’s in a really cool area too” the man writes. "it’s just on the corner of Rosenthaler Platz, I know the bartender”. Charlene knows one of the bartenders too. She used to date Nat, and Charlene has a suspicion they still sleep together sometimes.

The bartender greets her with a smile. The man is sitting at a table by the window. His glasses are fogging over every time he sips his coffee. Charlene finds that oddly endearing. The man smells of lemongrass and of coffee. He is nervous and so am I. His shirt is newly ironed and he is wearing a tie. Charlene fiddles with her dress as she sits down, trying to smooth it out. Unsuccessfully. The man notices, the smell of his disdain making her sick to her stomach. She orders a Chai latte. The smell goes stronger.

The date lasts for about half an hour. The man tells her of his love for Matisse. Of this “really cool British street artists who’s really questioning the conventions of society… You may have heard of him. Banksy he’s called”. Charlene asks what he does for a living. He tells her about a writer he likes and says he doesn’t read “all this fantasy stuff, I mean... no offence if you do”. Judging from the smell, that last bit was a lie. This was not what I wanted.

Charlene tells him she really likes Chaucer. The man says Chaucer is the father of poetry. He smiles a sly smile. Charlene can smell the pride on him even over the coffee as he fixes her eyes with his. “Shall I compare thee to a spring day” He quotes, wrongly. Charlene sips her chai and does not correct him. She does not want to know what that would do to his smell.

As soon as her cup is empty she tells him she has to go “I promised my friend to go to a bar” except my friend won’t be there. The man says the conversation was “delightful” he’d really like to do it again. His words have the lime-like scented-candle fragrance of insincerity. Charlene can smell the relief on herself. She nods, and as she leaves the bartender tells her to give Nat a kiss from her.

Charlene picked the bar for her second date. It’s a small place on Heinrichplatz in Kreuzberg. The woman looks out of place here in her glittery top and her perfectly red lips. The place is a mixture of a bar and a living room left half unfurnished. The woman smiles when she spots Charlene in the doorway but her scorn of the place can be smelled across the room. This is not what I wanted. She is sitting at a table in the corner, a stiletto dangling from her foot. Her fingers elegantly curled around the stem of a cocktail glass.

Charlene orders a drink and sits down next to her, suddenly feeling out of place herself. The woman’s eyes are on the surrealist paintings hanging on the bare brick walls. They’re on the guitar hanging from a peck behind the bar. On the model ship above the door. On the empty cake trays standing ready for next morning’s breakfast. Her eyes are on the walls, on the floor, on the lesbian couple sharing a burger behind them. Those big doe eyes of hers are on everything but Charlene, and Charlene’s are glued to her drink. “This is… and interesting place” The woman says. Charlene nods.

The woman sips her drink. “So… what brings you to Berlin?” Her smell of indifference making Charlene miss her bed and her Netflix account “I uhm… I wanted to learn German I guess…” The woman nods. “I’m here for the culture” she says, sipping her drink again. “You know, there’s so many interesting people here” She laughs and her laugh is as beautiful as her eyes. “So much fun to be had”.

Charlene can smell the tequila and the flirt every time she laughs. The two smells are almost the same and Charlene finds herself enjoying the scent. But this is not what I wanted. Her shirt is glittering in the light of the candle, falling perfectly over her chest. Her collarbone moving as she places a hand lightly on Charlene's. “I could show you some fun” she says. Charlene moves her hand to her drink. Gulping it down.

The woman tells her of a party she went to. She tells her of an actress she kissed in an alley. She asks Charlene about her hobbies, about her job, about her experiences and she looks away from her as Charlene answers her questions. She is wrapping a strand of hair around her finger. She is licking her teeth. She is ordering yet another margarita. Even her perfume does not cover that the smell of her flirt has turned to boredom. It sneaks through to Charlene’s nostrils, thick and dusty and dry like wood and dust-mites and mold. Choking her. The woman excuses herself to go to the bathroom and strokes Charlene’s leg on the way out. Charlene wishes she had worn jeans. She is texting Nat even before the woman has left.

“This plan was awful” “How’s number two? Is she not as hot in real life”. “She’s hot alright but she has nothing to say” “Does she needs to speak while she licks you?” “NAT! Behave yourself.” “I’m not the one having magaritas with a hot lady in a bar” “You are though, aren’t you?”

Nat answers with a selfie. The bartender from the café is leaning on Nat’s shoulder. She looks drunk and happy and Charlene does not need to smell her to know what’s on her mind.

The woman is back and she has touched up her lipstick. She is handing a note to the bartender. “I’m sorry… I just got an invite to this event. I really have to go” She kisses Charlene’s cheek as she leaves then stops, turns around and looks at her. “It’s a shame you know. That I’m not what you’re looking for. We really could have had fun”. Charlene nods. “Yeah. Good luck out there, enjoy yourself.” The woman laughs and in that moment she is the prettiest thing Charlene has seen all night. And then she is gone. The smell of her confidence still hanging in the air like cloves and nutmeg and perhaps she didn’t smell that bad after all.

Mr Forgot-My-Shirt is waiting for her outside a club. He is wearing a shirt. He greets her with a hug, his hand on the small of her back. His desire smells warm and musky and deep. The smells of freshly rolled cigarettes and coffee beans fresh from the mill. Charlene smiles at him, tasting the smell, the alcohol doing cartwheels in the back of her head. For a moment she smells that same smell on her own breath as his hand guides her into the club. This is not what i wanted.

The club is lit in flashes of red and green. Flashes of moving bodies and skin against skin. Charlene recoils from the smells of lust and carelessness in the air. She can smell the bodies in there being so alive and yet not really present at all. Hands are on skin and clothes are thick with sweat. She can smell the pulsating excitement of a dance getting closer and closer and faster and faster. The man grabs her hand, his face is a grin and his hand is strong and dry and he is not nervous at all.

Charlene lets him pull her into the mayhem of flashing lights and screaming smells. His hips moving with the music his hands moving on top of her dress. His lips on her neck his face so close to hers. His lust smells sharp and cold. It is the smell of aftershave or gasoline. It is a smell just about to catch fire and she knows it all to well. This is not what i wanted.

And yet she finds her body moving along with his. His breath on her skin. His hair touching hers. His lips on her ear. His voice on her neck “Wanna take this elsewhere?”. Charlene wants to be elsewhere, but she’s not sure he’s thinking the same kind of thing. She is tired and hungry and her feet hurt and his hands are so heavy on her hips and his smell is so sharp in her nose. “It’s so loud in here” she shouts over the pulse of the speakers. He smiles. Charlene does not like that smile. This is not what I wanted.

He is leading her from the flashing lights, his skin glistening with sweat, his hand not letting go of hers. The music still shaking the world around her. The bodies moving back and forth in mating displays. The smells overwhelming her. And then, they are in the cool night air, standing by the stairs of a station. He is telling her he lives just a few streets from here. His breath is flammable with greed for her body. She can smell his expectation his hunger his itch. Filling the air like a lighter gas about to ignite. This is not what I wanted.

She glances at the U-Bahn sign, fumbling for words. And before she even says them her nose picks up his disappointment. Sour and full like an old swiss cheese. The smell is in her throat and on her skin and in her hair and all she wants is to escape it.

As she half runs down the stairs leaving him standing there the smell that follows her is stronger. Thick and dusty like the room of a lonely person. The smell of sweat and pee and masturbation. A smell so strong she can taste it on her tongue. Bitterness. He is shouting something, but she does not care. She is on the train and the city is disappearing into a dark tunnel leading her away and she is texting Nat.

Nat is waiting for her on the platform. Charlene recognises their trench coat before the train has stopped. She is running over the platform and she is in Nat’s arms. Nat’s worry smells of yeast, of fear and dark ale. Nat’s hands are on her cheeks. Nat’s voice is in her head. “Are you okay? I’m sorry Charlie. I thought it was what you wanted”. Charlene says nothing. She is smelling Nat’s hair and Nat’s skin and Nat’s love and she is smelling something else too. She is smelling candle wax and roses on top of the yeasty smell of worry. Closer, somehow, clinging to her own breath. But how will Nat smell If say? How long will that smell of love last? How long?

She looks at Nat’s eyes, and Nat’s smile, and she hears herself whisper “I love you Nat, you know that right?”. Nat is smiling that stupid smile. And Nat is kissing her forehead, laughing. Saying “I know Charlie darling, I can practically smell it on you”. And for a moment the station is spinning around her, the platform has the smell of a flower shop and she realises Nat never smelled like anything but defiance and laughter and care. But the smell of love. The smell of love was coming from herself all along.

And it does not matter if Nat smells like infatuation or worry or indifference or care. Because Nat loves her and all that matters is that Nat smells like Nat.