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howggswouldreact · 4 years

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💻 Co-workers | Jiu

Request: hi can i request a dreamcatcher jiu scenario where she is stuck with her co worker (also her long time crush) in an elevator for hours.

Plot: Reader and (a very shy) Jiu have been colleague workers for almost 3 years. Reader, the one Jiu has a big crush on, decides to make her company because she was overtime working alone. But when they are leaving the building, the elevator suddenly stops.

Words: 3,471

Genre: fluff, alternative universe

Notes: I had so much fun writing this one... i hope you enjoy it as much as i did.

It was after 8PM when you started turning off the computer. You were tired, it was a Friday night and you probably just wanted to go back to your apartment and lie in your bed to get the rest you deserved; the week had been very busy.

Minji was watching you sideways as you pressed the button on the monitor. She had gotten good at it, watching you without being noticed. She could put the credit for that luck on her desk, which was attached to yours. But she rarely saw your face from the front, only in profile. And it was the best view she had ever seen.

Almost 3 years ago, you were the new hired. Before you, there was only one quiet old man who ended up retiring. The change was so sudden and Minji felt it deep in her heart, as soon as you passed through the glass door of the company. Whatever it was, she wouldn't call it love. A slight crush, perhaps.

“A crush doesn't last three years, Minji. Three. Years.”, said Bora, her best friend, every time Minji commented about you without being asked.

Bora didn't care if Minji talked about you for three years. It was cute. She only got irritated because Minji didn't even have an attitude. But what could she do? Just receiving your gaze every time you arrived in the morning made her body heat up as if it was burning up. And when you hummed a song while typing on your computer, she smiled involuntarily.

Of course she had already started conversations with you. They all revolved around the weekend, your pets, "I'm going to drink water, do you want me to get it for you, Y/N?" and learned the exact temperature that you liked to drink it. She liked to hear your voice when offering her snacks or even complaining about another employee who did not know how to communicate and just shouted at you when called you. Minji didn't know how there were people in the world who could be rude to you.

When you got up from your chair and wished her a good night, Minji said the same thing back. She looked around quickly and realized that she would be alone at the establishment because she would work overtime. She had no plans for this Friday and would rather go home and sleep than pretend to be paying attention to something on TV.

"Hey, aren't you coming too?"

With a slight surprise, Minji’s eyes looked up at you from behind round lenses, you were about two meters away, holding your bag in one hand. Damn, Minji thought, how beautiful she looks today.

"I'll stay a little longer. Just until I clean my email. There isn't much missing.”, she replied, smiling.

"Do you want me to stay and keep you company?", you asked.

A brief silence followed and Minji was sure that her mouth went dry and her lungs stopped working. Her heartbeats stumbled a lot until she finally answered.

"It would be great to have your company."

It was always great to have your company.

In almost three years together, working together, Minji never had the courage to ask you to lunch with her. She thought she would ruin everything, drop your drink, forget the money at home and you would have to pay for her meal, every kind of nightmare you can imagine. Even though that you would think she was just a good co-worker. Terrible.

What Minji really wanted to do was take you on a date, but she never felt brave enough to do that. And she only knew that you didn't date because you had made it clear once, in a conversation at the company's holiday party, that everyone was a little bit not sober, that you would only be with someone you liked very much.

You sat down again in your place.

"Do you want some help?"

"No, no. I'm just finishing deleting a few emails. It won't take long. ”

"Do you want me to get you a cup of water?"

Minji's brown eyes met yours. She wanted you so much to know her feelings for you...

"Yes, please."

You came back with two glasses, one for you and one for her. As Minji alternated between drinking water and deleting unnecessary emails, analyzing in a somewhat thorough way whether she could really delete them, you started talking.

"Minji, did you ever feel like something was preventing you from acting?"

The mouse clicks stopped but Minji decided to make false movements while thinking of an answer for you. Of course she felt it, she was feeling it right now because all she wanted to do was pull you and kiss you.

"Yes, all the time."

"Lately I feel that what holds me is myself and I don't know how to act," you confessed, a sadly tone in your voice.

Minji's heart sank. You never opened up about personal things, maybe being alone for the first time made it possible. And it showed that you had a certain confidence in her, which encouraged her to continue the matter.

“I know how it feels. It’s like one of those dreams in which you run and run but you just stay in the same place.”, she turned her face to you and you could see the sincerity through that transparent lens of her glasses.

Minji always had that feeling. She was always embarrassed to speak in public, at work she spoke only what was necessary and never talked much with her co-workers. In reality, before you, she never talked to anyone anything beyond the essential. Still, she was invited to happy hour’s and parties. The people there were very fond of her company, even though it was a very quiet one.

"Exactly."

Minji was about to finish cleaning up her spam box, but she didn't want to leave. She wanted to keep talking to you for longer, to hear your voice for longer, to see your face for longer... But eventually, you should go home.

"I think it's up to us to let go of what keeps us from following, isn’t it, Minji?", chin resting on one of your hands, waiting for her answer.

Minji loved how her name sounded on your mouth. She nodded.

"You're quite shy, aren't you?", you asked, making Minji's cheeks flush.

"Yeah...", she replied. "This is what holds me back, my shyness."

Minji slowly started to turn off the computer. Who was she trying to deceive? Would she be pretending to delete emails for how long? 3 hours? Would she keep you with her for so long just because she loved your company? No, she wouldn't do that. What if you had an appointment? It was time to go.

"I have finished. We can go now.”, she commented, getting up and placing her backpack on her shoulder.

Minji, who had the door key, went right behind you. You pressed the time-card. She turned off all the lights and locked the door. When she reached you in the hall, putting the key in her backpack’s pocket, the elevator button was already on. The silence was cut only by the noise of it going up the floors to you.

"It’s so scary in here at night, how can you do so much overtime?", you asked and the elevator doors opened.

"I do this more to kill time.", Minji replied, entering right behind you.

The metal doors closed and the elevator began its descent from the eighth floor to the ground floor. There were probably only you and the security guards in the building now, no one else. It was the end of some important soccer game and everyone was at home or in bars waiting for the match. Minji looked at the watch on her wrist, it was half pass 9PM.

"But you were working overtime too, weren't you?", she asked to break the silence.

"Ah, I..." you would reply but a great squeak was present.

The elevator lights started to flash and it stopped suddenly, causing you to lose your balance and almost fall to the floor. The doors were still closed and you were probably somewhere between the third and second floors. Minji, leaning against the metal wall, looked at you, startled.

"Are you claustrophobic?", she asked, concerned.

“No, I'm just scared. It never happened to me”, you said, a little breathlessly.

Minji pressed the button for the ground floor again in the hope that the elevator would return to its trajectory, but nothing happened. The lights were back to normal, they didn't flash anymore, the buttons were all normal but the elevator didn't want to work. She tried the emergency button.

Nothing happened.

"My cell phone has no signal, as expected.", you said, holding the device in one hand, reaching for the ceiling of the elevator. "What the hell!"

Yes, Minji wanted to spend more time with you, it was a fact, but she didn't expect for you both to be stuck in an elevator. There was nothing romantic about it. It was desperate and could even generate trauma! She took a deep breath and tried to see if her cell phone worked, tried to send messages to Bora and Siyeon, but the messages weren't even being sent. Calls did not complete. Minji and you were trying to do the most diverse types of communication, even tried the company's wifi, but it didn't reach that floor.

After more than 20 minutes of trying, you gave up.

"Okay," you said, sitting on the floor and placing your bag beside you as an armrest. "I think we can survive this."

"We can.", Minji replied with a beautiful smile and sat down beside you. "I think we will only be saved when the soccer match is over."

You faced each other again. Despite the desperate situation, you burst out laughing. A breathless laugh that made your belly and cheeks hurt. Minji held back the urge to say how beautiful you were.

You have recovered your breath and the silence has fallen on you. Despite many silences, they were never uncomfortable silences; you had silences that were like a polite wait for the other to start talking. Minji was too shy to begin it and you thought it would be invasive if you did. But, given the current circumstances, the ideal would be to have at least a little conversation, otherwise you both would go crazy.

"Since we're here, how about we get to know each other better?", you suggested, turning to Minji.

"You can ask what you want to know.", she adjusted the glasses on her face and smiled slightly.

“We can play a game.”, you were excited about your own idea. “For example... what 3 things would you take to a desert island? Remembering that ‘boat’ is not an answer. ”

"Ahm...", Minji started to think while feeling your gaze on her face. “A book, perhaps. A penknife? And... I don't know... A manual on how to make a boat on a desert island.”, she concluded, triumphant.

"Hey, this is also not allowed!", you were outraged by the answer but you couldn't help but laugh.

“You didn't specify anything about the rules and now I can make a boat to get off the island. But what about you? What would you take to a desert island? ”

"A book. Chocolate. Someone special to keep me company. ”

"You didn't say I could take people!"

"I also didn't say that you couldn't.", you laughed. "But we would probably go crazy and end up devouring each other, or fight to death."

"You’re watching a lot of movies about desert islands," she joked.

"My favorite hobby."

Minji turned to you, you were now face to face. In 90% of working hours, Minji could only observe you (discreetly, of course) in your profile. The other 10% of seeing your face was from the front, and it was when you arrived or left, or even when you turned to get the glass of water offered by her. That 10% was always a great time for her because your eyes seemed to see her beyond what she was.

"What would you take to an elevator between the third and second floors?", you asked her, in a playful tone.

"I have everything I need right here.", Minji replied.

A slight tension settled between you both and Minji realized that the phrase had been said in a very unthinkable way so she started to stumble over her own words trying to fix what she had said.

"N-no, I mean, I mean.", she pushed the glasses up again. "I didn't mean ... I mean, I mean...", she was cold sweating and you had a slight smile on your lips. "I meant that I have everything I need here, in my backpack." picked up the backpack. "Look, I have toothpaste, water, umbrella, candy, salad, ahm..."

You were finding it adorable the way she messed up trying to correct what she said. But you wouldn't forget that phrase or the tone used in it.

"Salad?" you asked, trying to make her relax a little.

"Yes, it's just that sometimes I like to stop in the park to eat while I watch the sky.", Minji still blinked faster than usual, the heartbeats still fast.

"This is so cute."

Minji's face flushed to her hair. She caught the air in her lungs and looked away from you to where the metal walls were in the right corner of the elevator. Why did she have to be so sensitive to you? Why did you have to have such a good voice to hear and this charming way of speaking? Why did your eyes have to look at her so deeply, seeing Minji as Minji, not like the shy co-worker?

This elevator is driving me crazy, Minji thought.

"And you, what would you take to a broken elevator?”, she asked after clearing her throat.

"I don't think I need anything else." you answered.

Minji could easily be mistaken for a statue. Were you flirting with her? Was it really possible that you, the person her mind had been thinking about for almost 3 years in a row, were flirting with her?

"We have your backpack, right?", you added, making Minji move again.

"Yes, everything we need is here." still confused if it had been a flirt.

Time passed by and you continued to talk. The soccer match should still be going on and you were already starting to eat one of the snacks that were in Minji's so complete backpack. You talked about the restaurants you went to, your favorite movies and series, the first concerts you saw in your life, the oldest memories you had of yourself, favorite colors, etc. You learned personal things about each other in an elevator, everything you didn’t learn during these 3 years working together, being next to each other every single day. And Minji was sure that if the security camera was recording everything, it would be possible to see the heart shapes in her eyes while she admired you talking.

“Minji...”

“Yes?”

You were lying next to each other, staring at the lights protected by fences on the ceiling of the elevator. Minji knew it was worth it to stay there, stuck with you. If it was anyone else, she would have already found a way out. But with you, the elevator could even be a pleasant place.

"If you were to stay in this elevator forever, would you be happy to be with me?”

Minji noticed your movement beside her, the eyes looking straight to her face, she swallowed a little bit. She couldn't lie to you, but that question was so... different from all the others. Swallowing again and taking a deep breath, Minji turned her face to yours.

"I'm happy to be you and not anyone else," she finally replied.

All the sincerity in one sentence and whispered in an elevator, your face so close to hers that she could make your foreheads touch if she wanted to. In fact, she did want to. She just couldn't. She remembered Bora's words. 3 years. This is more than just a simple crush.

Using the words of her best friend as a source of strength for what would happen next, Minji turned completely towards you and it seemed that all shyness had managed to get down to the ground floor, leaving only Minji, flesh and blood, to deliver her heart to you.

“I am happy because ... when you push the glass doors, it looks like the Sun itself walking and sitting next to me. When you smile, wishing me a good morning, it's like you're recharging my batteries. Your eyes shine and have so much curiosity, a good curiosity, a desire to know, that delights me.” she felt that her eyes were starting to cry but she wouldn’t stop now, not when she finally had the courage to release all that was overflowing in her heart. "You are beautiful. And you can get more and more beautiful every moment, even when you are stressed when talking to a employee or when you are tired. I've been in love with you since I met you and I never got the courage to even take you to lunch with me. And now we’re here, stuck in an elevator and I’m talking nonstop, which I’ve never done before. But I like you. I really do.”

Minji sat and removed her glasses to clean the lenses that had fogged up. She didn't want to see you now. Who knows what kind of expression would be on your face. Disgust? Indifference? She didn't know which one would be worse to see. But the silence was also suffocating her. I should have been quiet, she thought. I should have let shyness stay and control my tongue for the rest of my life.

"Minji, I..."

With a loud creak, the elevator descended again. Caught off guard and not believing what was happening, when the doors opened on the ground floor you were still sitting.

It looked like nothing had happened. The building's entrance was empty. The elevator voice was working, normally. Was it a prank? Were you on a television program?

Minji got up quickly, picked up her backpack and put the glasses on her face again. She held the door for you to go through but still didn't have the courage to look at your face.

"Minji.", you called again.

“Look, Y/N, I know you don't have the same feelings for me and it's really fine. If you feel disgusted or uncomfortable, I will even ask the boss to change places, I would never want to have- ”

"Minji!", your voice came out in a half scream, drawing her attention to your face, finally. “The things you said... were beautiful. Nobody ever said anything like that to me.”

Minji was holding the backpack strap tightly. She licked her lips and tried to calm her heart that kept churning in her chest and would soon jump out, screaming for your name. Her hands were sweating.

"Do you know why I stayed until later?", you asked Minji, who shook her head. "Just to be with you."

If it was able to see what was going on in Minji's body, you would see complete euphoria. It was an ecstasy of you, a dose so powerful for her that it would make her climb the walls and even fly. The light laugh that came from her lips and the sigh of relief made you smile back.

"I thought you were going to stop talking to me or something," she confessed.

"I would never do that. Really. But, since we went through a very stressful time... diner is on me, okay?”

"Is this a..." nervously, Minji couldn't finish the sentence.

"A date. Post hijacking of crazy elevator. So, what do you say? ”

With a smile from ear to ear, Minji and you headed towards your favorite restaurant that was not far from there. On the way, you held Minji's hand, which made her heart melt even more for you.

Distracted, Minji wouldn't notice that the messages on her phone would be sent and that Siyeon and Bora were super worried about her. They called her cell phone but would never be answered as it was in silent mode and Minji was too busy on a fun date with you. The security guards would have a little trouble, they would get a good scolding from the boss and only later would they realize that two young girls got stuck in the elevator.

And you, unaware of everything around you, started to make everything that you always wanted during those 3 years happen in one night.

#dreamcatcher scenarios #dreamcatcher reactions #jiu scenarios #jiu reactions #kpop scenarios

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softnow · 5 years

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paracosm [ch. i]

msr | college au | this chapter: gen | words: 1851

university of maryland, 1982. fox mulder is in love with the library girl.

this fic wouldn't exist without @o6666666 who has been the biggest cheerleader/brainstorm partner. thank u ily. also: if you go to umd, went to college in the 80s, or specifically went to umd in the 80s...sorry. we’re doing our best but we’re taking liberties here, folks. tagging @today-in-fic.

ao3.

— — —

Fox Mulder is in love with the library girl.

Or, well, enamored with, at least. Smitten with. Big-time crushin’ on.

He sees her for the first time in the fiction section, kicking along a step stool and dragging a re-shelving cart, putting Dickens and Dostoevsky back where they belong. Her messy red bob is bright against the classic lit beige, and her little blue jeans make his palms itch. She’s about five-foot-nothing, has to tip-toe even with the step stool, and her thin white t-shirt tugs out of her waistband a little more each time she stretches. It’s entrancing.

So entrancing that he stands there for longer than he should, Vonnegut clutched in his fist, forgotten. Long enough for her to notice, balanced up on her stool, a book halfway to the shelf. She glances at him briefly over her shoulder, then slides the book home and looks back at him again. A slim eyebrow arches.

“Can I help you?”

Her voice is deeper than he expected, but soft. She blinks at him, eyes big behind gold wire-rims. Her face waits somewhere between expectant and impatient.

“No, uh—no,” he says, shaking his head, backing away.

She stares at him a moment longer before returning to her cart.

Boys, he says when he gets home, boys, you aren’t going to believe it. He says, I think I might be in love.

—

A week later, it’s the circulation desk.

It’s late, not quite ten. He has a history exam tomorrow, and the guys have their Dungeons & Dragons buddies over. Seven dudes shouting about wizards and dexterity checks in his living room means he can’t focus at all. So he goes to the library.

He’s not thinking about that girl—really, he’s not. Not about her fluffy bangs or her slim hips or her soft, rich voice. Not at all. He’s just looking for a place to study, that’s it. Just somewhere quiet to blow through the Renaissance and call it a night.

But she’s right there, perched on a chair behind the counter, when he walks through the door. Her sweater is dark blue and speckled, like she’s taken a bit of the night sky and wrapped it around her for warmth. She bows over a book, chin resting in her sleeve-covered palms, coppery hair falling in waves around her face.

For a moment, he considers heading straight to the third-floor reading nook, the one in the religion section that the freshmen haven’t discovered yet. If he gets started now, maybe he can be in bed by midnight.

But then he looks at the girl again. She nibbles on her bottom lip while she reads, and—well. Da Vinci’s been dead for four hundred years. He can wait a little longer.

Mulder hitches his backpack higher on his shoulder, crosses to the counter, and leans forward on his elbows. The girl looks up, chin still in her hands, that same expectant-impatient look on her face, and Jesus, this close, she has a whole sky map of freckles on her cheeks.

Whatever suave cool-guy thing he was going to say gasps and drowns in her Bora Bora-blue eyes. What comes out instead is: “Desk duty tonight. Easier to reach, huh?”

And, oh.

Real smooth. Real fuckin’ smooth. Foot, meet mouth. Earth? Feel free to open up anytime now.

The girl’s eyebrows shoot into her bangs. Then she sighs the sigh of someone who deals with dumbasses like him all the time.

“Are you ready to check out?”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t—”

She straightens in her chair, customer service-polite. “Your card, please.”

“No, I’m not—”

“Help you find something, then?”

“No, I don’t need—”

“Then what can I do for you?”

Rewind time? Let me start over?

“I just wanted—that is, I—uh. What are you reading?”

A beat. The girl stares at him. Her eyes really are breathtakingly beautiful, even when they’re sizing him up like he’s a bug that has just crawled into her soup.

“What am I reading?” she echoes, flat.

“Yeah, your, uh, your book there. Is it good?”

He can hear the clock on the wall behind her. Tick, tick, tick. Her silence stretches for so long that he starts to wonder if he wasn’t just speaking in his head.

Finally, she nods once. Curt. Up, down. “It’s fine.”

Cut your losses, kid. Walk away. But his mouth’s already off and running, the last to get the memo.

“Fine? Oh, well, fine—fine’s better than bad, right? What is it?”

She sighs again. Slides a thumb between the pages to mark her place and flips the cover shut. He reads the title upside down.

“The Principle of Relativity?” He whistles low. “Just a little light reading, huh? That’s cool. Physics is…cool.”

She blinks like a cat, slow and bored. Says, “Yeah.”

He shoves a hand through his hair and tries to smile. “I’m, uh, I’m Mulder. Fox. My first name’s…Fox. I’m just Mulder, though.”

Her strawberry mouth puckers and she nods again.

Okay, buddy. Move along.

“And you’re...?”

She tosses her book open. The cover makes a little thwap as it hits the counter. She taps the page.

“Busy.”

—

The next day, after his exam (which, after staying up until two in the morning replaying easier to reach, huh?, he’s certain he did not pass), he goes to the library.

She’s reading at the desk again, hair up in a little fountain ponytail. He thinks—though he’s not sure—that she might be trying to kill him.

“Ready to ch—oh.” Her face actually falls when she realizes it’s him. He’d laugh if she wasn’t so pretty. “You’re back.”

She has two tiny gold hoops in each ear, and he is overcome with the urge to touch them, to see if the metal is warm from her skin. He shoves his fists deep into his pockets instead.

“I wanted to apologize,” he says, “for last night. We got off on the wrong foot.”

She nods. She says, “Fine. Okay. Are you checking out this time?”

He laughs now; he can’t help it. She’s so serious. This little librarian. He doubts if she’s even twenty yet, but the prim line of her mouth is Ph.D.-stern.

“No, uh, I wanted to make it up to you.”

She folds her arms and her lips twitch into the barest hint of a smirk. “Make it up to me?”

“Yeah.” He shrugs. “I was an ass last night, but I’d like to make it up to you. What do you say? Coffee tonight, my treat?”

She cocks her head to the side, and he almost has her smiling now, he’s sure of it.

“I have class tonight.”

“After that.”

“Homework.”

“Tomorrow, then.”

She shakes her head. “Work.”

“Okay.” He rests his elbows on the counter, gives her his most winning smile. “When are you free?”

A real smirk. Just a little one, but there. “I’m not.”

“Ever?”

“Not for coffee.”

“Dinner, then. A movie?”

She bends forward, mimicking his position from the other side of the counter, her nose only inches from his. She smells like cinnamon. He can’t breathe.

“Sorry, Fox-Just-Mulder. I’m not interested.”

“Because I was an ass?”

“Because…”

“I was an ass.” He nods, smiling. “I get it. Okay. A name, then. Just tell me your name.”

She taps a finger to her lips in thought and he really wishes she wouldn’t. He’s having a hard enough time keeping his eyes above sea level as it is.

“I thought you were supposed to be making it up to me. How’s me giving you something you making it up to me?”

Oh, but the library girl is fun.

“Well, I’m trying, but you won’t let me. Figure the least I can do is call you by your name.”

“Hmm.”

She sits back again, picks some fuzz off her cardigan (green today; she’s like a little Christmas elf). Her eyes cut up to his through her lashes and dart away. She straightens a stack of paper.

At last, she says, “Dana.”

“Dana.” He grins. Dana. It’s the prettiest name he’s ever heard.

—

He learns her schedule fast. He should; he’s there every day, leaning over the counter, cataloging her various sweaters and sighs.

He learns other things, too: she only wears glasses when she reads, she likes peanut M&Ms, she blasts through books faster than any person he’s ever seen. Carl Sagan on Monday, Susan Sontag on Tuesday, Toni Morrison on Wednesday, and he starts to suspect this girl might have been a child prodigy way back when. Maybe still is.

A week into this, he asks her—Dana, are you a genius?—and she doesn’t even look at him. Just flips the page, her mouth twisted into something trying not to be a smirk.

“You know,” he continues. It’s easier to talk when she’s not looking directly at him, her eyes like hypnotists’ perfect blue gems. “If you are a genius, you should tell me your last name. For when I hear it on the radio someday, I mean. ‘Dana So-and-So wins Nobel Prize.’ So I know it’s you.”

“Why would I want you to know it’s me?”

“Why wouldn’t you?”

Her jaw twitches, but she still doesn’t look up.

“I’m just saying,” he says. “It’d be nice one day, when you cure cancer or whatever, to be able to say ‘I knew her when.’” He leans down, crowding into her space, and lowers his voice. “And to satisfy everyone’s curiosity. Why, yes, she was always that beautiful.”

She looks up then, a sharp cut through her lashes, a stern glare belied by the soft flush on her cheeks.

“Mulder,” she warns, and he likes the way she says it. Mul-der.

“Yeah?”

She holds his gaze for a moment, and he can see himself reflected in her glasses. His ridiculous grin. The flop of hair he forgot to comb this morning, too concerned with making it to the library before class.

Then she looks away, eyes down, little pink tongue darting out to wet her bottom lip. When she meets his eyes again, she is Professional Dana, all calm and poise.

“I have work to do,” she says and reaches for a stack of bookmarks on the edge of the desk. She taps them straight like a deck of cards.

He grins. “So you’re telling me I should go, then?”

She doesn’t look at him. She’s arranging pens in a cup by color now. “Mm-hmm.”

“And you won’t tell me your last name?”

Black pen, black pen, blue pen, red pen.

“You don’t need it.”

His grin widens and he leans in just a little farther. She doesn’t retreat. He likes that about her.

“If you say so,” he whispers.

She nods, curt. “I do.”

He straightens and hitches his backpack up on one shoulder.

“You’re a cruel woman, Dana,” he says. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

She rolls her eyes and he almost—almost—misses the way she smiles when he turns away: small, private, like she doesn’t even mean to be smiling at all

#fox mulder #dana scully #msr #msr fanfic #txf #myfic #there are 46 days until i graduate #my college experience hasn't been nearly as enjoyable as theirs is gonna be #;) ;) ;)#ch 2 is done and will come maybe some time next week!#hope u like it!#but even if u don't!#i like it and am having a ball!#fox mulder is obsessed with dana scully in all universes ok!!!#paracosm

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mldrgrl · 7 years

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Almost Paradise

by: mldrgrl Rating: R Summary: Hanella in Bora Bora.

It's not often that he has the opportunity to watch her sleep. Even when it comes along, it's fleeting, like she can sense his eyes on her and she always wakes before he's had a chance to get his fill. Maybe it's something about the ocean air or the sound of the tide or the warmth of the sun that keeps her in slumber long enough for him to study her.

She hasn’t done anything to her hair in the whole eight days they've been in Bora Bora. It takes on a natural wave he's never seen before, fluffy and frizzy in a way that's both alarming and endearing. She hasn't worn any make-up either, resulting in a startling explosion of freckles across her nose and cheeks and forehead. She's sun-kissed red everywhere in between, radiant and glowing.

In her sleep, she takes a deep breath and nuzzles his chest just a little. He shifts one leg over the side of the hammock they’re lying in and gives a gentle push so that it sways from side to side. He skims his hand up and over her arm to cup her shoulder. He would like for her to stay asleep; to just stay tucked against him with her bare breasts pressed to his chest and side, her leg bent over his thighs while the purple sarong that’s wrapped around her hips exposes enough of the left cheek of her ass to be enticing, yet still mysterious. He knows she’s wearing a royal blue pair of bikini bottoms, but right now all he can see is skin.

The urge to touch her is strong, but he resists. Any other time he wouldn’t hesitate to reach down and brush the sarong aside so he could dip his hand inside her swimsuit and coax her awake with determined fingers. He knows, though, that this is their last day here and every bit of peace and relaxation she can get she should have. He’s not going to be the one to disturb her. Besides, they’ve had more than enough sex in the last week to possibly break records. Certainly more than the honeymooners in the next closest villa who’ve spent more time snorkeling in the lagoon or walking on the beach than Hank would consider normal for honeymooners.

Bora Bora wasn’t really his first choice for a vacation, but it was important to him to find somewhere that was off the grid. Somewhere neither of them would be tempted to work. Somewhere they didn’t know anyone. Somewhere private and safe and nothing like their everyday life. She needed an escape and he wanted to find one for her.

He’d called Charlie - not for advice, but to ask him if the offer was still on the table from a travel magazine that had been pestering his agent to ask for a piece they could include in one of their issues to entice readers into a destination vacation. He would whore himself out with ten thousand words of story for an almost entirely comped vacation in return. Bora Bora, they said, and so that’s where he took her.

She’d argued against it at first, as he knew she would. She wouldn’t be Stella without putting up a fight, but he knew that she knew, deep down, that she needed a break. Hell, he needed one too. The black cloud that had been following her for the last few weeks affected him as well.

It all started one evening when he came home from the pub he’d frequently used as an office space to write in and found her at the kitchen island with a nearly empty bottle of wine. She had a haunted look on her face and when he’d asked her what was wrong she stared at him like she didn’t understand what he was asking. Normally, an icy silence like that would’ve pissed him off, but this one scared him. He wasn’t sure what he’d done to fuck up so badly, but it was obviously something.

He was about to apologize for whatever the fuck he’d done, but she finally opened her mouth and asked him if he remembered the Spector case she’d worked on three years earlier. He wasn’t likely to forget about the man who’d used her face as a punching bag and the shock he contained at seeing her after so long. Yes, he remembered the Spector case.

Apparently, there’d been a young girl badly affected by her infatuation with Spector. So enamored was she, that it landed her in juvenile detention and eventually an institution. Stella had found out that afternoon that Katie had taken her own life earlier in the week, not that she’d kept track of her, but word had somehow reached her when an Irish newspaper reported on the suicide and linked it back to the Spector case.

She was angry. Angry at the loss, angry at Katie, angry at herself, angry at Spector, angry at the press, angry at the system, angry angry angry. She was stoic with her anger, expressing it with scratches down his back, bites to his shoulder, and demands to be fucked harder when he tried to make love to her, both wanting pain and to be the cause of it. The aggression in her became more and more subdued after a few weeks and eventually she slipped into a melancholy that lingered far too long.

It was the sadness that worried him. He’d never known her to be passive about anything, but suddenly, she was passive about a lot of things - and even though those things were mostly simple, like what to do for dinner or what movie to watch on TV, but it was so unlike her to be lacking in opinions and just not to care. The only thing she seemed passionate about was that nothing was wrong.

Hank was certainly not an idiot. He knew problems weren’t solved by running from them, but he began to feel like Stella was using her work and their life as an excuse not to face the issues. He knew there were days that she stayed at work longer than she needed to and he also knew she wasn’t sleeping very well. She was having nightmares that she didn’t want to talk about and though she wasn’t pushing him away...yet...she wasn’t letting him in either.

Essentially, he’d gotten what he’d hoped for out of this vacation. It took a few days to get her to relax, but she’d gotten there. At night, she slept, nightmare-free and without interruption. And, it seemed, she wanted to make up for lost time in other areas. He couldn’t come within ten feet from her without turning her on somehow. It put his stamina to the test, but he wasn’t complaining. Also, in light of the privacy the villa afforded them, she started sunbathing and walking around topless, which he found thrilling.

His favorite feature of their villa, by far, was the glass floor in the middle with a view of the water below. At night, they were able to illuminate it from under the hut and the blue-green water glowed brilliantly. Tiny schools of fish darted by and an occasional sea turtle. On their third night there, the sea life got an eyeful of his bare ass when Stella pushed him down against the glass and fucked him senseless.

Stella moves and stretches in her sleep and Hank stops rocking the hammock for a moment to look down at her and determine if she’s waking from her nap. Her eyes open and she rubs her thigh against his groin a little.

“Good afternoon to you too,” Hank says, reaching down to curl his fingers at the back of her knee.

She hums a little in response and rubs her face against his shoulder. She’d told him on the first day they were there that whatever suntan lotion he’d put on was driving her wild and since then, she’d been habitually smelling him whenever they were close. Apparently she was horny for Hawaiian Tropic.

“What should we do today?” Hank asks. “Shark diving? Windsurfing? Jetski?”

“What haven’t we tried off the room service menu yet?”

“Short of eating the menu itself, I think we’re out of new options there. We can go out to that cocktail bar down the beach, but then you’d probably have to put a shirt on.” He sighs dramatically and slides his hand under her chest to take a handful of her breast. “There really should be a law against shirts. That’s the first thing I’m doing when we get home is petitioning parliament for an all topless all the time law.”

“London is too cold for that.”

“Even better.”

Stella chuckles and lifts herself up so she’s hovering above him and he has to push his foot to the floor to keep the hammock from swaying erratically from the movement. He looks down her chest at her swaying breasts and stills them with both hands.

“Actually,” he says. “I just want a law that requires you to be all topless all the time.”

“You can draft me a proposal and I’ll give it some consideration.”

He squeezes her breasts, pushes them up slightly and circles his thumbs around her areolas. “There’s not much to it,” he says. “It’s just you, no bra, no shirt, whenever you’re in my presence in the house.”

“What do I get in return?”

“Full and complete ownership of my cock from now until eternity.”

“I believe I already have that.” She drops her hips and rubs herself against the growing bulge in his swim trunks. “What else?”

“What else do you want?”

She pauses blinks slowly as she stares down at him. He takes his hands away from her breasts to push her hair back and away from her face. She closes her eyes and tilts her head into one of his hands for a moment and then lowers herself back down on top of his chest and he wraps his arms over her.

“I don’t want to leave,” she says.

“Let’s just stay here then,” he answers. “You can become a cocktail waitress and I’ll find work as a cabana boy.”

She sighs and presses her mouth to his chest, just above his right nipple. She flattens her tongue against his skin for a moment and then turns to settle her cheek against him again.

“I think you need to talk to someone, Stella,” he says.

“I know,” she answers.

It surprises him that she admits it. Stuns him into silence, actually. He strokes her hair and watches the water ripple towards their little hut. Stella picks her head up again and moves up to kiss him. He tastes the remnants of the pineapple chapstick she smoothed across her lips before they went out to laze in the hammock. She rubs herself against him again and he reaches for her hips to stop her. They already tried fucking in the hammock once and it didn’t work out so well. No traction and no balance.

“Are you really asking me to stop?” she says.

“I’m just saying one of the lounge chairs might be better.”

“I’m not afraid of a little challenge.”

“I know you’re not.”

They’re not so frantic this time and that makes all the difference. Hank shimmies his trunks off his hips and then kicks them off his legs while Stella slips out of her bikini bottoms. The sarong is still wrapped around her hips and the fringe at the end tickles his thighs as she slides her body down and against his. The hammock twists and rocks and all he has to keep them steady under the threat of displacement is his one foot on the ground.

“You’re gonna have to drive this ship,” he tells her. “Otherwise we’re ending up ass over elbow on the deck.”

Stella sighs as Hank sinks into her. He rubs her thighs and grits his teeth against the urge to move. God, he wants to move so badly. Especially when he feels her clench around him, pulling him deeper with practiced skill. She barely has to move and she doesn’t make a sound, which isn’t fair. She stays hovering over him, staring down at his face with half of her bottom lip caught between her teeth in concentration. Clench and release. Clench and release. He breaks into a sweat and pulls at her thighs, but the hammock tips at the slightest change in weight distribution and he knows it’s too precarious of a situation.

Her eyelids flutter and those tiny muscles that pull at him seem to twitch and flutter as well. She pants above him and licks her mouth. This is either some kind of tantric bullshit or she’s trying to kill me, he thinks. The challenge of not moving is almost unbearable. He tries shifting his hips a little and she circles hers in response. He needs friction.

Fuck it, he thinks, and tips the hammock to the side. He holds on to her to break the fall, cupping the back of her head with one hand and her tailbone with the other. His elbows hit the deck and he knows they’ll bruise, but better him than her. She has her legs wrapped around him before he even raises his hips to slam into her.

“What took you so long?” she breathes.

The hammock twists and sways above them, casting moving shadows across her shoulders. The deck is hot under his forearms and he hopes it isn’t burning her back, but she’s not complaining. She’s moaning and gasping, actually, and digging her fingers into his ass.

I fucking love Bora Bora, he thinks, as he releases into her. He feels her thighs trembling against his hips, but she doesn’t let go, so he holds himself up on his arms and breathes roughly against her neck. Eventually, he becomes aware of everything outside of himself. The muted sound of gentle waves, the distant cry of a bird, the smell of salt, the light breeze cooling the sweat on his back.

Hank shifts his body to move off of Stella, but she wraps her arms across his shoulders and keeps him where he is. He sinks back down, kissing her face. Sweat trickles down her temples and her neck. Her hair fans out wildly beneath her.

“Thank you for bringing me here,” she says.

“My pleasure. Literally, and figuratively.”

“I know that I’ve been difficult and you’ve been concerned. I’m…”

Hank raises his head and looks down at her. “Don’t,” he says.

“Don’t what?”

“I don’t know. Apologize, or say it’s fine, or act like I was just doing myself a favor.”

“Things haven’t been easy for you.”

“For me?” He takes Stella’s head between his hands, thumbs brushing her temples. “Stella, if you’re not okay, I’m not okay. If something is difficult for you, it’s difficult for us. It’s not about me or you, it’s about us.”

“I’m still adjusting to that school of thought.”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

“Sometimes I believe I’m still adjusting to that as well.”

“Promise me when we get home you’ll talk to someone about that girl. It doesn’t have to be me, but it has to be someone.”

“We’ve a psychologist on staff. I’ll make an appointment.”

“Good.”

Stella reaches up and pulls his face down to kiss him. It isn’t a passionate kiss, just one that lingers. She frames his ears and keeps her mouth against his, eyes closed. He’s the first to break away and he moves down to kiss her neck.

“Would you consider topless Tuesdays?” he asks, running his face down her chest and nuzzling her left breast.

“Yes, I’ll give it some consideration.”

“Really?”

“Plead your case when we get home. Right now I’m in need of some room service.”

“Cabana boy Moody at your service.” He rolls away from her to move out from under the hammock and get up.

Stella stretches and he takes a moment to enjoy the view of her wild hair, her arms above her head, her naked breasts, the purple sarong still loose at her hips so that the rest of her nudity remains tantalizingly hidden. He considers regularly whoring himself out to the travel magazine for more moments like this.

The End

#i wrote this #hanella #hank moody #stella gibson #californication #the fall #combining many hanella requests over time to satisfy all #beware the angst #but the fluff as well

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