#[i'd like to start by apologizing for completely disappearing for months without any announcement]

[coollyinterferes]

The unmistakable sound of footsteps approaching begins to fill the air. Whoever is coming seems to have brought some company along…

They are getting closer… and closer… and closer…

…and closer…

……until..................

"Goooooood evenin'!!" Comes the loud greeting from a certain blond man. A big smile on his face and all.

"We beg your pardon for our prolonged absence. It was completely beyond our control..." Then adds the gentleman standing by his side, apologizing on behalf of both, offering a genuine smile along with the apology.

"...BUT! We're back!" And hopefully for good this time…

[definitelynotafurinasimp]

How about an jealous furina, or drunk furina?

Furina being jealous

characters: Furina x gn!reader

warnings: none

a/n: I have returned from my brief trip to get the milk. I'd love to say there were some AO3 author levels of tragic events that made me vanish for a month, but the reality is that I've been playing Persona 3 Reload and now Persona 5 Royal again.... yeah.

Anyway, hope you enjoy!

Furina

While Furina loved to pretend she was above the whole “being jealous” thing, you knew better than to trust her with that. She was human after all, and if there was one emotion more human than anything, even compassion and love, it was jealousy.

And yet, her jealousness would surface quite differently from others’, the former Archon suddenly growing very talkative as she began trying to show off, donning a smug while getting into a pose only akin in confidence and pride to the great orators of old before directly or indirectly talking about how great she was. Whether it was to impress you or to make the source of her jealousy back away, you weren’t too sure. What you were sure of however, was that it was a sight to behold. More entertaining than an award winning theater play and pretty endearing.

But while you would have loved to commend her for being able to handle her negative feelings without harming anyone, you had witnessed her dig herself into a metaphorical hole far too often for that to be the truth…

When you had completely halted to a grind during one of your walks, only to stare off into the distance, a wave of confusion washed over Furina, the former Archon quickly following your gaze before her eyes landed on a woman not too far away. For a moment, she wanted to ask you about her, but when the woman spotted you, started waving and approaching the two of you, her voice got stuck in her throat.

What followed was the two of you cheerfully talking to each other, reminiscing of days gone by, leaving Furina no choice but to simply listen...

While she felt confident in saying that she had known you for quite a while now, your chat about your school days made Furina's time with you seem quite insignificant. And yet, when it finally became time for you to introduced the two to each other, describing the other person as “a former upperclassman that helped you through school”, any doubts and hesitations Furina felt seemed to vanish within an instance, her stance as proud and confident as during a speech, as she talked with a wide smug on her face.

“It is an honor meeting you. I’ve actually been a huge admirer of your works”, the other woman said, and judging from the sparkle in her eyes it made no sense to question her in the slightest, and yet, because of her pride as an artist and definitely not for any ulterior reasons whatsoever, Furina still felt the need to make sure all three of you were well aware of how fantastic she was.

“Ha, my deepest apologies. I did not expect to run into a fan today. I should have brought a pen with me, after all this happens quite frequently as well. How careless of me”, she ‘apologized’ in a voice that made it difficult to miss what her true intentions were, and yet, all you could do was smile at her act. Something the director didn’t seem to miss as her smug quickly disappeared into thin air and a faint blush settled on her cheeks. That brief moment of embarrassed silence quickly vanished however, as Furina turned her attention back towards your acquaintance. 

“Well, I’m glad to hear you like them. I’m actually working on my next play, one that will for sure become known as my magnum opus”, she proudly announced with a big smile on her face, closing her eyes for a moment. When she opened them however, both of your expressions could not have been more different. While the woman looked as excited as a small child, your eyes had widened in surprise.

And you had every right to. Her? Writing a new play? Where did that come from?? She hadn’t even started thinking about what it was supposed to be about! Forget “Magnum Opus”, she could count herself lucky if she even managed to finish a draft in the next year.

“Really?? That sounds wonderful! I know I shouldn’t pry and that pinpointing a date should only be done once you feel confident in it, but may I ask when we can expect the premier?”, your friend asked, eyes filled with as much excitement as those of a dog seeing its owner for the first time in a while as her voice threatened to crack any moment. And so, before Furina had the chance to stop herself, her mouth had already begun to talk once again.

“I cannot tell you a date, but considering the script is as good as done, it shouldn’t take longer than a year. If the casting and everything else goes smoothly, at least.” A YEAR?? WHAT WAS SHE SAYING?? “Well, more like nine months.” NINE MON- Furina’s knees suddenly grew weak, threatening to give way and send the rest of her body on a one way trip to the pavement.

Luckily, before Furina had any chance to dig herself an even deeper grave, your friend said her goodbyes before going on her merry way, leaving the two of you in complete silence for a few moments.

“You never mentioned working on anything. Didn’t your last play just release?”, you asked, clearly concerned for her, something only made worse when she began to lean on you to keep herself standing.

Nothing. Not a single noise came out of Furina in response, instead, you were greeted with the sight of small tears threatening to form on the corners of her eyes as she silently grinded her teeth.

“Let’s get you some coffee, I get the feeling you might need it these next few days.”

[fangirl-ramblings]

Pairing: Charles Smith x Female Readee

Word Count: 3222

Summary: Love is in the air around camp, but has Cupid's arrow somehow missed you and Charles?

Notes: The fluffiest of fluff, Reader POV / Charles POV

This @rdr-secret-cupid gift is for one of my favourite people - @12timetraveler. My sincere apologies for this Valentine's / birthday present being so late, but hopefully it's well worth the wait 😘

~* Tumblr Masterlist | Stories on AO3 *~

Cupid's Arrow

Reader's POV

14th Feb 1899

You looked around to see Dutch sitting in his tent, whispering sweet nothings to Miss O'Shea while Sean was trying his hardest to win over Karen, whose icy demeanour was starting to thaw with each passing drink he was plying her with. Hell, even John had had a little too much to drink and summoned the courage to pick a small posy of flowers and present them to Abigail as a small Valentine's gift. 

You liked seeing the camp happy like this, all relaxed in each other's company; the likes of Javier and Tilly sitting next to each other as the former strummed on his guitar and filled the air with a sweet melody, or young Mary-Beth, enjoying the latest romance novel she acquired, only to tear her eyes away from the page to gaze lovingly towards an oblivious Arthur before continuing her story.

And while Micah's grumbling about it "not bein' right, someone like him talkin' to a fiiinnnne woman like her," as he watched young Lenny saying something to make Jenny giggle from across the way, was enough to for everybody to tell him to shut up, it certainly wasn't enough to dampen the mood around the place.

It was even nice to see Miss Grimshaw laugh and smile as she joined the older camp members in their reminiscences about previous Valentine's days with their own past loves, soon followed by raucous singing of filthy songs but as you took your makeshift seat of a crate at the poker table, you couldn’t but help feel Cupid’s arrow had struck everyone and somehow bypassed you. 

You had secretly hoped that Charles would have joined in with the party, but the minute Dutch wound up his gramophone Charles had disappeared into the woods to take his position on guard duty.

While you'd taken many opportunities to try to make conversation and try to get to know him better over the last few months, you still found him to be a man of few words - but you liked that about him. The camp was full enough of loud-mouthed characters like Sean and Uncle that any moment you found yourself sitting in a comfortable silence with Mr. Smith was bliss.

As the night drew on and more and more alcohol was heartly consumed by all, you felt your eyes growing heavy and couldn’t summon the energy to sing along with the lyrics of “The Louisville Maid”.

   "Well as fun as this is, I'm gonna call it a night," you announced to your campmates, knowing full well that nobody was really listening. You sighed as they were caught up in their merriment and headed towards your tent… only to walk straight into Charles.

   "Whoa, careful there," he told you, giving you a small smile as he placed those big, strong hands of his upon your arms to help stop you from falling over on the spot.

Your face burned as you felt your face grow redder and with each passing second as you enjoyed his gentle but firm touch, causing you to look away to avoid staring into those beautiful, deep brown eyes of his. You hoped that he thought your flushed appearance was a result of all the alcohol running through your veins and not the thought currently running  through your mind; what it would be like if he suddenly dipped and kissed you with a fervent passion?

   "Sorry Charles, I… I… I hadn't realised you'd finished your shift already. Want a drink?"

    "I'm okay, thank you, I was gonna try and get some sleep… and I think you should too - big day tomorrow isn't it?" Your brow furrowed as you tried to rack your brain. Had you arranged to go on a job and completely forgot? Charles watched you, with a confused look. "Oh, I thought you'd mentioned the other day that it was your birthday? Maybe I got it wrong?" 

   "Oh my word, yes it is," you gasped in wonderment, "I can't believe you remembered."

   "Guess I just have a good memory for special occasions," he grinned, brushing a loose hair from your face without thinking, making you weak at the knees.

He cleared his throat and moved his hand away. "Well we best both go get some shut eye before the sun comes up. Good night and sweet dreams." 

You watched him walk to his tent, before heading to your own. Still smiling to yourself, you drew the flaps shut and fell on the cot, relieving that brief moment you just had with Charles over and over as you closed your eyes and let sleep wash over you.

15th Feb 1899

As the sun beamed through the gaps of your tent, you woke up to a very different camp atmosphere compared to the night before. It was eerily quiet; with everybody still in bed, sleeping off the hangovers they'd given themselves at the party.

Deciding to make the most of having a quiet camp all to yourself, you sat yourself up and stretched - your muscles and joints aching in a way that made you laugh. Another year older today and your body was certainly reminding you of that fact with all the aches and pains you suddenly started feeling. 

A part of you doubted anybody else would be able to remember that today was your birthday but you smiled as you saw Mary-Beth hadn't forgotten; she'd wrapped a romance novel with one of her ribbons and left it on your trunk. Next to it was a little handwritten note from her, wishing you a very happy birthday and how "the way the heroine in this story reminds me of how you act around Charles, maybe if you read it you'll end up with your true love too. x"

You playfully rolled your eyes; ever the romantic, Mary-Beth had seen you gazing at Charles one day and decided you were destined to be together.

Pulling on some fresh clothes, you stepped outside and made your way towards the coffee pot, presuming nobody would have thought to wash it out and prepare it ready for the morning. Yet, to your surprise, you lifted it up to find it freshly brewed and still piping hot.

   “I figured everybody would be wanting some when they woke up,” Charles chuckled, walking behind you carrying some logs for the campfire.

   “I’d say; seems they all had a lot to celebrate,” you laughed, pouring yourself a cup. “You want one?” you asked, offering Charles the filled mug currently in your hand.

   “I’m okay thanks, I had one before I made a start on tidying the place up.” 

   “Oh trust me, I wouldn’t worry too much about that today - Grimshaw will have such a headache, she'll be far more focused on getting all the quieter jobs done," you giggled knowing from previous experience how badly Susan seemed to suffer from next morning hangovers.

He carefully placed the chopped wood next to the campfire before turning his attention back to you. "Oh I bet," he grinned, his eyes twinkling. "Actually, I have an idea that might help keep camp running smoothly and stop people grumbling.'

   "Oh?" Curiosity had gotten the best of you and you were intrigued to know what he was thinking.

   "I saw supplies were running low and was thinking of doing some hunting later… a good hearty stew might be what the others need to recover," rushing his words out before casting his eyes to the ground. "I, erm… I was wondering if you wanted to join me?"

   "What? Because I'm the only other person sober enough to safely use a weapon right now?" you teased. 

   "That's one reason, but I'd also like some good company." 

You stood gobsmacked as he turned away from you, quickly making his way over to Taima, pulling something from her saddle.

   "I… I'd like to spend time with you too, but I'm afraid my pistol is no good for hunting." You hung your head in disappointment, mentally kicking yourself that this could be your one chance to be alone with the man you'd admired for all these months - and you've lost it because you never took the time to invest in decent hunting equipment.

   "I can help you with that," Charles told you, pulling out an ornate looking bow and handing it to you. "I made it… for your birthday."

   "For me?" Shocked by his act of kindness, you traced your fingers over each of the detail engravings that ran along each of the limbs, tears starting to cloud your vision. "This is beautiful, but are you sure you mean to give this to me?"

   "Of course… a beautiful bow for a beautiful lady.” A sudden flash of fear crossed Charles’ eyes as he realised what he had just said, his body tensing.

   "You… think I'm beautiful?" Your eyes looking deep into his, searching for the truth.

He nodded. "The most beautiful creature I have ever laid eyes on… I'm sorry, I didn't mean to put you on the spot like that. If it's too awkward, we can just forget the hunting…"

He stopped mid-sentence as you kissed his cheek, his body relaxing as he realised he hadn't made a mistake in telling you.

   "It's not awkward at all, I've liked you for a long time but I could never work out if the feeling is mutual." You gently thumbed his cheek, "Let's go on this hunting trip and talk about this in private shall we?" You suggested as you signaled for Charles to see what you could see. 

Stood behind him was a small audience of John and Mary-Beth, both of whom were grinning over to you both. 

Charles playfully rolled his eyes and walked  you away from their gaze. 

   "Sounds like a good idea, wanna head out now?"

   "Lead the way Mr. Smith." You held out your hand and he gladly took hold.

   "Oh wait, you'll need some of these too" he reached back into his saddle to hand you a bunch of arrows… only to be confused as he heard you laughing.

    "What's so funny?" Charles asked, trying to read your expression.

   "Nothing… just looks like Cupid's arrows found me after all."

Charles' POV

14th Feb 1899

   “I’ll take over here if you want,” John grumbled, clutching his face as he approached where Charles was currently taking up guard duty in the wooded area on the outskirts of camp. “I reckon my Valentine's night is as good as over.”

Charles turned to face his campmate, the moonlight showing a fresh red looking handprint across John's cheek. "You blew it with Abigail then?"

   "Yep, I pushed my luck just a little too much," John chuckled lightly, "But I'm sure I'll  survive. Go on, you go enjoy yourself… I saw [y/n] looking all lonesome up there, she could probably do with some company."

John waggled his eyebrows as Charles pretended to scowl; alcohol had given him loose lips one night and he had ended up confiding in Arthur and John about his feelings about the camp lady he'd taken a shine to. But he couldn’t hold the expression for long as a smile crept over his lips he thought about you.

   "I'll probably just get some shut-eye instead, but I have been busy making this for her." He lifted up a beautiful bow that was resting against a nearby trunk. "It's her birthday tomorrow and she mentioned once she'd be interested in learning to hunt properly."

   "You're a big old softie, ain't you Charles Smith?" John chuckled. "Well, I'm sure she'll appreciate the thought."

   “Don’t you go ruining my reputation, John,” he laughed, making his way to the clearing where all the gang's horses grazed peacefully.

Taima looked up, nickering as she saw her owner nearby.

   “Just a passing visit for now girl, but we can go out on a ride tomorrow,” he whispered to her, stroking her neck as she nuzzled against him. “In the meantime, I want you to keep this safe for me.” Charles lifted his saddle onto the hitching post that Taima was attached to, and carefully placed the bow into the holster on it. She watched her owner with curiosity, her ears pricking up as heard Charles rummaging in his saddlebag to retrieve an apple to reward his trusted Appaloosa for her loyalty. 

The music was still playing as he walked back into camp, only this time it was Pearson’s accordion and Uncle’s banjo that filled the air as Miss Grimshaw sang a bawdy song. It was clear that the party wasn't ending anytime soon, but that wasn't going to stop Charles from trying to get some sleep. Heading towards his tent, he found himself looking around for a quick glance of his heart's desire, only for you to crash straight into him.

   "Whoa, careful there," he told you, gently placing his hands upon your arms to help stop you from falling over on the spot. He could have swore he felt a jolt of electricity flowing through his veins as his skin touched yours.

   "Sorry Charles, I… I… I hadn't realised you'd finished your shift already. Want a drink?"

    "I'm okay thank you, I was gonna try and get some sleep… and I think you should too - big day tomorrow isn't it?" A flash of confusion crossed your face and Charles began to doubt himself. "Oh, I thought you'd mentioned the other day that it was your birthday? Maybe I got it wrong?" 

   "Oh my word, yes it is," you gasped in wonderment. "I can't believe you remembered."

   "Guess I just have a good memory for special occasions," he grinned, brushing a loose hair from your face without thinking, before catching himself and moving his hand away.

Not really wanting the moment to be over but knowing he must tear himself away lest he stay admiring you all night, he cleared his throat. 

   "Well we best both go get some shut eye before the sun comes up. Good night and sweet dreams." 

Making the short walk back to his own tent,  his heart soared as he thought back over your reaction to him remembering your birthday. Now he couldn’t wait to see how you would react to your present.

Settling on his bed roll, he watched you draw your tent closed before allowing himself finally sleep and dream of you.

Charles found himself waking at the crack of dawn, just as the last few stragglers were stumbling towards their bedrolls . Realising he could effectively have the tranquillity of camp to himself,  he gladly jumped up and set about getting ready for a new day.

Firstly he made his way over to Pearson’s wagon to grab a few coffee beans and started brewing a fresh pot. Noticing the meat supplies were running dangerously low, Charles made a mental note to go out hunting later and wondered if this could be the ideal opportunity to ask the birthday girl to join him.

While he waited for that certain someone to wake up, he had already  stoked the fires back to life and disposed of the empty bottles that were scattered all around camp before finally enjoying a short break with a fresh cup of coffee.

It wasn't until he had made a start on chopping wood he had heard footsteps behind him and smiled to himself as he looked over to see [y/n] making her way over to the coffee pot.

   “I figured everybody would be wanting some when they woke up,” Charles chuckled, walking up to her with an armful of logs for the campfire.

   “I’d say; seems they all had a lot to celebrate,” she laughed in that sweet way that made Charles’ feel all warm inside as she poured a cup. “You want one?” asking as she offered the mug in her hand towards him.

   “I’m okay thanks, I had one before I made a start on tidying the place up," he explained, walking over towards where the chopped wood was to be stored.

   “Oh trust me, I wouldn’t worry too much about that today - Grimshaw will have such a headache, she'll be far more focused on getting all the quieter jobs done,"

Charles chuckled as he carefully placed the firewood down before realising this was his chance and turned his attention back to you.

   "Oh I bet," grinning with a twinkle in his eyes. "Actually, I have an idea that might help keep camp running smoothly and stop people grumbling.'

   "Oh?" you asked, tilting your head with curiosity.

He had noticed in the past that each time you asked a question about something that had piqued your interest, you would often tilt your head in this way and found it utterly adorable.

   "I was thinking of doing some hunting later… a good hearty stew might be what the others need to recover," Charles rushed his words out before looking away bashfully. "I, erm… I was wondering if you wanted to join me?"

   "What? Because I'm the only other person sober enough to safely use a weapon right now?" she smirked, and he felt his insides flip-flop. She was so damn beautiful.

   "That's one reason, but I'd also like some good company," he told her, quickly turning to go fetch the bow from Taima’s saddle.

    "I… I'd like to enjoy your company too, but I'm afraid my pistol is no good for hunting." She lowered her head in what seemed to be disappointment.

   "I can help you with that," Charles told her, carefully placing the bow in her hands. "I made it….for your birthday."

   "For me?" He watched as she traced her fingers over the engravings he spent so much time on, hoping the tears brimming in her eyes were because she was overjoyed. "This is beautiful… but are you sure it's for me?"

   "Of course… a beautiful bow for a beautiful lady.” He kicked himself inwardly for saying it aloud, 

   "You… think I'm beautiful?" Your eyes looking deep into his, searching for the truth.

He nodded. "The most beautiful creature I have ever laid eyes on… I'm sorry, I didn't mean to put you on the spot like that. If it's too awkward, we can just forget the hunting…"

He stopped mid-sentence as you kissed his cheek. The feeling of embarrassment replaced by one feeling like he could soar into the sky right now.

   "It's not awkward at all, I've liked you for a long time but I could never work out if the feeling is mutual." Gently thumbing his cheek, you suggested, "Let's go on this hunting trip and talk about this in private shall we?"

He followed your gaze to see Mary-Beth and John grinning at you both as they stood by their tents. 

Playfully rolling his eyes, Charles guided you away from their gaze. 

   "Sounds like a good idea, wanna head out now?"

   "Lead the way Mr. Smith." You held out your hand and he gladly took hold.

   "Oh wait, you'll need some of these too" he reached back into his saddle to hand you a bunch of arrows… only to be confused as he heard you laughing.

    "What's so funny?" Charles asked, hoping thewhole entire moment wasn't a set up so camp could make fun of him

   "Nothing… just looks like Cupid's arrows found me after all"

[willymywonkers]

Experiments

Summary: A flashback to when Wonka first opened up his factory, and his relationship with his partner and close friend, Maude, were all the rage. A new guy pulls into town and has his sights set on Maude. Drama ensues.

A/N: Oof, I apologize if the ending feels a little rushed. I should say this fic does have a bittersweet feel to it, but that's how I like it lol. I am working on rewriting one of my other fics because honestly I think I've gotten better at writing Wonka, lol

Willy Wonka made headlines around the world when he opened the largest chocolate factory ever in history. He stood proudly in front of the looming building as the press went wild.

People stood all around the factory, celebrating such a momentous occasion. Especially, Maude Figgle, who stood right in front of the crowd, chewing on a piece of gum.

While chocolate was Willy's main passion, Maude helped out in crafting different kinds of gum. She even invented a kind of gum that would never loss its flavor. The press never seemed to care much about her, even though she was the brains behind most of his famous candies.

"Hello, and thank you for coming." Willy began to speak on a podium. He began adjusting the microphone. He took out several notecards, flipping through each of them.

Finally, he spoke again. "It is with great honor that I, Willy Wonka, have finally opened the largest chocolate factory in the world. Candy has always been my passion since I was a little boy, and I couldn't have done it alone. Maude Figgle, my very good friend and partner, has done so many things to help me on this incredible journey that I could never imagined of doing it on my own. Now, without a further ado, Wonka's factory is now opened!"

The crowd cheered as Willy stood up and cut the rope of his shiny new factory.

Maude ran up the steps, waving to the crowd. She hugged Willy, tightly.

Will was a bit surprised at the hug. He chuckled nervously, hugging Maude back.

It was the happiest day of their lives.

Will sat in his office, admiring all the workers below. After just a few months, people already seemed to enjoy working at the factory. Will would go down from his office sometimes, and test the different samples that people had made.

Maude was usually in the experiment room, where she made most of her breakthroughs. She was currently testing out a type of rock candy that projected different kinds of emotions.

"Maude, if you keep chewing that gum, your jaw will close shut, haha." Will said, jokingly.

"Yeah, says who, Smartypants?" Maude chuckled, and continued chewing.

Gum seemed to be the only thing that keep her focus. Ever since she was a little girl, she had a habit of chewing gum. She would chew faster if she was nervous or extremely focused. When she didn't have gum to chew, Maude would chew on her hair, pencils, or anything to keep her mind to focus.

Willy's stance on gum was obvious. He hated the stuff, but when it came to Maude, he seemed to tolerate it a lot more.

"Whatcha working on?" Will asked, leaning over Maude's shoulder.

"None of your business." Maude scoffed.

Will pouted, crossing his arms. "Haha, jokes on you. This factory is my business."

"Oh, of course, Mr. International Hotshot." Maude pushed Will gently to the side, and grabbed a few chemicals from behind him.

"You better believe it, missy." Willy looked to the experimentation table. There seemed to be a rock that was glowing pink.

"What does that mean?" Will asked, looking to Maude.

"It's emotional rock candy. You just touch it, and it'll glow whatever color you're feeling." Maude said, excited at her new invention. "It's like a mood ring."

"Uh-huh, and what does pink mean?" Will asked, again, placing his gloved hand on the rock.

Maude blushed, slightly. "Um, it's usually referred to the feeling of love or well happiness. It's kinda not really completed yet."

The rock candy began to shake as well as turn several different colors.

Maude gulped, grabbing Will to the ground. The rock exploded and bits of rock candy seemed to blow everywhere.

Luckily, there wasn't any other workers nearby, but Maude and Willy.

Willy grabbed his cane, and started laughing. "That was magnificent! We should do that again, but next time we should add different labels on the colors."

Maude chuckled as well. "Hehe, of course."

"Yes, we should definitely do that when I get back from India."

Maude's smiled quickly faded. "Leaving? To India?"

"Prince Pondicherry asked me to build him a palace entirely made out of chocolate." Willy chuckled. "It's really a strange request, is it not?"

"Yes, but, who will be in charge when you're gone?"

"You will, of course."

Maude's eyes widened as Willy headed out the door. "But, wait, why me?"

"Why not you? You're the only gosh darn person I'd trust to run this entire factory."

Maude smiled, slightly. She seemed a little troubled. "I'll do my best, Will."

He smiled back at her, pulling her into a hug.

Maude hesitantly hugged back. She looked up at the chocolateir's face. He looked young and bright. His lips were almost kissable. His hair was all short and crooked.

Maude pulled out of the hug and looked away. The very words "I love you" hung to her tongue, as Willy walked out of the factory.

"Good luck, Will."

A few weeks later, the press were hounding the factory, curious to where the chocolateir went off to.

Maude tried to maintain her composure without him, but it was no use to the press. They liked to dismiss her like she was some secretary. It annoyed her at times.

Even some of the workers in the factory didn't seem to care that she was in charge. They would say revolting things behind her back. Soon she didn't show up to the break room anymore. She started chewing her gum a lot faster.

"Um, excuse me, miss." A man said, knocking on the door of Wonka's office.

"Oh, I'm sorry, Mr. Wonka isn't here right now. Is there anything I can help you with?" Maude asked, opening the door for the man.

"No, actually. I was just looking for you." The man stammered.

The man seemed to have red hair, with captivating green eyes.

"Well, is there anything that you need help with, sir?" Maude repeated.

"Um, I apologize if this comes off as a bit dodgy, but I wanted to ask if you'd get drinks with me later?"

Maude crossed her arms at the offer. "I'm sorry, but I'm gonna have to decline, because I've got lots of work to catch up on."

The man still insisted. "The drinks would be on me."

"Uh-huh. Another thing is I don't even know your name." Maude said, rolling her eyes.

"It's Ron, Ron Duncan." The man stuck out his hand.

She looked at his hand, and raised an eyebrow. "Maude Figgle. Now, I'm really swamped with work, if you'll excuse me."

"Look, I get that you're busy, but, I really admire your since I was a kid. In my opinion, you'd be better off without Wonka." The man turned to leave.

Maude stopped whatever she was doing and looked at him. "That's very kind of you. You know what, sure, I'll go."

"Great, then it's a date." Ron smiled at her and walked off.

From that first meeting, Maude didn't expect to be in a relationship with him. Ron seemed so nice and caring, but there was something off about him. She didn't exactly know what, but she did have a feeling that his intentions were cloudy.

When Willy got back from India, he was greeted by a tight hug from Maude.

"Ah, it's good to be back after such a long time. India is scolding hot, you know." Willy said, as he hugged Maude back.

"There's someone I want you to meet." She smiled at Will, bringing him over to Ron.

Willy's smile faltered, when she gave Ron a kiss on the cheek. "Heh, hi."

"This is Ron. He's my boyfriend." Maude said, holding onto Ron's hand.

Ron stuck out his hand for Will to shake it. Will hesitantly shook it with a disgusted look on his face.

"I find it extraordinary that after all this time you guys held up your friendship." Ron smiled. It seemed to have a sour connotation to it.

Will smiled back, just as sourly. "Uh-huh, yeah. We've had the same dream since we were kids."

Ron's smile disappeared, slightly. He gave Maude another kiss before heading off. It made Will grimace slightly, as Ron walked off.

Will didn't know how to describe it, but he didn't like Ron. In fact, he grew to despise him, but he just didn't know why.

Whenever he would see Maude all lovey dovey with Ron, it just made Will sick to his stomach. Soon, candy sales began to drop. His chocolate just wasn't tasting as good as it used to.

It started getting worse when spies began stealing his life's work. The only thing that kept him afloat was Maude.

One day, Maude announced that she was getting engaged. However, she didn't seem too thrilled about it.

Willy picked up on it right away. She didn't seem to want anything to do with him anymore.

Maude began to distance herself from Will more and more. He felt more hollow without her.

During the wedding, Will showed up to walk Maude down the aisle.

"H-hey, Maude." He began.

"Yes?" She answered.

Will couldn't get over how she looked in her wedding dress. Her hair was done up all nice, and her lips looked almost kissable. He placed his gloved hand on her cheek, as the words "I love you" hung on the tip of his tongue.

"Good luck." He said, as he walked her down the aisle.

[ghostbustermelanieking]

day after tomorrow

firewalker post-ep au, second installment in my x files rewatch series. (the two stories i’ve posted insofar are unrelated to each other; there’s no planned connection between these stories.)

summary: She almost died a few weeks ago. But she is here, alive. And her partner has kissed her. 

note: i have little to no knowledge of quarantines, so this is probably horrifically inaccurate. 

Trepkos disappears into the volcano with Jesse O’Neil and Scully waits for the government to arrive in the dark, rubbing her raw wrist. It feels almost normal, after everything that's happened, and that feels worse than anything.

“You okay?” She jolts at the sound before she realizes it's just Mulder; they should turn some goddamn lights on. She turns towards him in the shadowy room, still rubbing the sore spots. “Your wrist hurts,” he says quietly.

He's spoken quieter to her since she was returned, touched her more. She's not sure whether she likes it or is annoyed by it, but she'd felt the weight of his hand on her shoulder for long minutes after he'd left. Now he touches her wrist gently, turning it over to try and examine it in the nonexistent light. “I'm fine, Mulder,” she says determinedly. “It's just a little sore. All things considered, I'd say I'm pretty well off.” (They don't know that they aren't infected, she thinks. They could be dying right now.)

“C’mon, let's take a look at this,” he says stubbornly, in that soft, nudging way he’d had since the abduction. Somehow, they both move in opposite directions at the same time and she crashes fully into him. And then the next thing she knows, he is kissing her. His hands soft on her hips, his mouth hot on hers. She kisses him back with something like eagerness, anticipation, until he pulls away.

“We should… find you something,” he says unevenly. “For your wrist.”

“Mulder…” she starts.

“Scully, I'm sorry.” His hand is still cupping her wrist; he lets go and turns to head down the hall. “I'll be right back.”

His footsteps echo down the empty hall, eerie in the dark like they're in a haunted house. People have died here, she remembers. She almost died a few weeks ago. But she is here, alive. And her partner has kissed her.

“You don't have to be sorry,” she says to the empty room.

week one

Their temporary residence consists of a hospital-like room, with two beds on either side like a college dorm. She's asleep on her bed when he enters the room, wearing a robe over what looks like a paper gown. Her pale face has a scary resemblance to her time in the hospital, although her curled position gives her away - she was a lot stiffer in the hospital, looked almost dead. Now, he can see her breathing, pulse in her neck.

He brushes some wet strands off of her face before making himself at home in the other bed.

---

“It's kind of morbid,” Scully says, propping socked feet up on the end of the bed. “Being in quarantine during the holiday season.”

“I bet we could get a radio,” says Mulder. “Play some Christmas carols.”

He's trying to make her laugh but she's quiet, chewing on her lower lip. “My mom's going to have a heart attack,” she murmurs.

He instantly feels the crash of guilt, the dark, murky feeling he got whenever he talked to Mrs. Scully while Scully was missing. “Scully, I'm-”

She holds up a hand to stop him. “Hush. It's not your fault. You never know what cases are going to be the ones that hurt you, and it was time for me to come back to work anyway. I just wish they'd let me call her, tell her I'm okay.”

Mulder nods like he understands, drums his fingers against the windowsill. Says, “I'll be right back,” before getting to his feet and heading down the hall to talk to the doctors.

An hour later, Scully is calling her mother on a disinfected phone. Mulder stands awkwardly out in the hall, watching her mouth move without hearing any of the words, watching her twist her cross between her fingers. He goes and asks the doctors for a radio and they glare at him like he's a spoiled child but three days later, they have one.

“You're ridiculous, Mulder,” Scully announces when she sees it. “Although you're practically spoiling me, compared to recent quarantines.”

“Might as well be generous, you only live once,” he says, rolling the volume knob between his fingers. “Oh, hey, I like this one. I can serenade you if you want.”

She throws a pillow at his head.

 week two

They play cards with a ragged deck Scully found in one of the drawers. Mulder can see her hands perfectly when she deals - her nails are ragged, chewed down to the quick. Her nails have never looked like that in the year he's known her.

She has a nightmare on the tenth night, a sweaty, blanket-shoving nightmare that wakes Mulder up. “Scully?” he whispers, because it's easy to forget that she's back and even harder to remember that they're suddenly sharing space again. “Scully, are you okay?”

She mutters something frantically. Something like get away get away.

Mulder struggles to sit up on the rickety cot. “You're okay, Scully, you're dreaming,” he says, frantic. “You're okay, you're safe now.” Or as safe as you can be in a month-long quarantine.

He doesn't want to touch her, doesn't want to startle her more, so he keeps talking, words running together. She finally jolts awake, shaking on the tiny bed. “Mul-” She swallows hard, effectively ending whatever she was going to say. “Bad dream,” she mutters, closing her eyes. “I'm okay.”

Mulder crouches on the ground beside her, feels her forehead. It's clammy under his palm. “Do you want some water?” he asks quietly. “Should I get the doctor?”

“Really, I'm fine,” she says, pushing aside blankets. “This isn't the most abnormal thing in the world; I've had nightmares since I got back,” she adds, and he winces, moving his hand from her forehead.

“Excuse me,” Scully adds, getting to her feet (socked feet still, because it was unreasonably cold) and padding into the adjoining bathroom. The door snicks shut behind her with a sense of stomach-turning finality.

Mulder stays sitting on the floor. The weight of it all is coming back, night after night of unimaginable guilt. He hadn't been able to save her. If he'd been faster, he might’ve. If he hadn't brought Krycek, he could've made it (because who else could be responsible for the disappearance of the tram operator). If he hadn't lingered at the car for so long. If he’d convinced Duane to take him instead.

He'd had a dream the night before she was supposed to die. He was sitting on a dock and she floated just out of reach in a canoe. She hadn't said a word. Don't die, he'd said. Not yet. Please, come back.

She hadn't said anything but she smiled at him over the water, dipped a hand into the green-blue and sent ripples moving towards him. He'd woken up with her hand still stiff under his and wanted to cry, managed to hold it together until he got home.

Now the bathroom door opens and Scully comes out. Her eyes are puffy but she seems to have regained her composure. She crawls onto the cot, wrapping the blankets around herself, before acknowledging Mulder's spot on the floor. “You okay, Mulder?” she asks, brushing her fingers through his hair.

The ridiculousness of her comforting him comes over him, making him almost sick. “I'm so sorry,” he says, all at once. “For everything that's happened.” Because of him, she almost died; it's a miracle that she's sitting here talking to him.

“It is not your fault,” she says evenly, voice hard. “You have to stop blaming yourself, Mulder.”

“You know that's not true.” Somehow her denying it makes him angrier. Maybe because she should be pushing him away instead of pulling him closer.

“No, it is true.” Her voice is hard. “I made my own choices on what to be involved in. You did not force me. You did not cause my abduction. Mom told me how hard you fought to save me… caused a scene at the FBI… I’ve heard the stories from Skinner, the Gunmen. It was never your fault in the first place, but you still had my back the whole time. You would’ve saved me if you could’ve.”

He takes a sharp breath and her hand slips off of the edge of the cot and into his. Her fingers curl tightly around his. “You have to stop blaming yourself for things, Mulder,” she adds, more softly, and he thinks she means more than the abduction. “You are not a martyr and you can’t save everyone.”

“I brought you here. I left you alone when I went to look for Trepkos; we'd be okay if I'd agreed to let you come.” He remembers the chiding in her voice when she told him they had to get past her abduction. He doesn't think he'll ever get past it; he doesn’t think he’ll ever forget the desperate loss of her. “We wouldn't be stuck here if I'd…”

“You tried to get me to stay, and I decided to come. On my own, Mulder. And I'm glad I did because who knows what would've happened to you if I hadn't?”

Some of the tension falls away at their banter. He scoffs jokingly, rolling his eyes. She grins at him in the darkness and he grins back. He’s missed this, them. “I'm not mad at you,” she says, her palm curling around his. He thinks she means for the kiss. He thinks she means for a lot of things. “I'm not.”

“I'm glad. I don't know what I'd do without you.” Neither of them say anything. He adds, “To debunk all my theories, of course.”

“Sure, Mulder,” she says wryly. Her hand slips out of his. “It's late, you should get some sleep.” She leans forward and kisses his cheek.

He stumbles a little getting to his feet. He can feel the heat from her mouth, like it left a mark on his skin. “Don't let the bedbugs bite.”

 week three

On the twentieth day, the heat goes off.

“We're in the long stretch,” Mulder had said the day before. “Almost there, Scully. Just a few more days of total and complete boredom, and I'll have you home in time for Christmas.” They were virus-free so far, nothing popping out of their necks. It hadn't seemed like it could get any worse, and then.

The doctors apologize profusely and assure them that they are working on fixing it - although they can't call anyone in to fix it because of the quarantine. “Well, you fooled me, I thought this was a four-star hotel,” says Mulder, and Scully smacks him on the arm. The doctors offer them extra blankets as consolidation.

It doesn't seem so bad, at first. They stay in bed because there is nothing else to do. Scully piles most of the extra blankets on top of her and reads A Comprehensive History Of North American Volcanoes for the third time. Mulder plays three hands of Solitaire before getting too cold and crawling under the blankets to count ceiling tiles. The day is fine, it seems, if not a little tedious and mind-numbing, but the night is a hundred times colder.

“I give up,” Scully says somewhere around midnight. “Let's push the cots together, Mulder.”

He's half asleep, cocooned in the blankets, and he blinks blearily at her when she says it. “What?”

“Body heat, Mulder. And we could share the blankets. C’mon, let's shove the cots together.”

He's confused but isn't going to argue. They get up and shove the cots together, Scully arrange the blankets over the center so they can be underneath them both. They huddle together near the divide, under the mound of blankets. Scully reaches for his hand under the covers and he takes it.

“Freezing out here,” she mutters.

“Yeah,” he says.

She scoots closer to him, and the gap between the cots widen. He grabs her to keep her from falling, shuffling backwards until he's against the wall and pulling her so she's not hanging in between the two beds. She grabs the edge of the blankets and pulls them up with her. “Thanks,” she murmurs, almost inaudibly.

“Course,” he says softly. His cheek is pressed awkwardly against her hair, their arms trapped between each other. She shifts, head on his shoulder. His arm curls around her back. “You any warmer now?”

She shifts upwards, leans forward to kiss him on the mouth. It's brief, but sweet, her hair dangling and brushing his cheeks. “Yeah,” she murmurs, shifting back to curl against him. “I'm warmer now.”

 week four

The quarantine has turned into some kind of bizarre vacation. (Like the comedy movie vacations where the place is crappy and a bunch of shit goes wrong but it ends up being really fun.) They haven't worked on cases for a straight month, Scully has more or less been forced to relax and recover from her abduction and coma, and she's taken up residence in his bed for the past week.

They haven't talked about it, mentioned the potential repercussions or Bureau procedure or how much he missed her during her abduction. They just… do. Effortlessly avoiding the subject, that's what they're good at.

On the last morning of the quarantine, Mulder wakes up with Scully curled against his back, arm slung over his bare stomach. The sun is poking through the part in the curtain. He remembers all of a sudden that they get to leave today. They get to leave this cramped little building and go outside, home to their own beds (or couch, in his case) and fully functional heaters. “Scully,” he whispers. “Hey, Scully.”

“Mm, shut up, Mulder,” she mutters to the back of his head.

“Scully, wake up.”

“I am sleeping.”

He tugs her hand. “We get to go home today.”

Silence, then: “I'm up, I'm up.” Her tiny, freezing feet brush his legs as she climbs out of bed.

“Virginia, here we come,” he says, making her smile as she crosses the room to dress.

A few hours later, they have been cleared, deemed healthy, and are on their way home. Mulder orders an in-flight movie, relieved to have something to do besides reading the same books over and over. Scully sleeps, head tipped back as she breathes easily.

(They haven't talked about whether or not their relationship will continue past their quarantine, but she grabs his hand before the flight takes off and pulls it into her lap, doesn't let go for the entire flight. His fingertips are directly at her pulse point, he can feel the life inside her.)

The process of retrieving their luggage seems brief compared to the past month. An hour off the plane and they are standing in long-term parking. “Long term is an understatement,” Mulder cracks.

Scully laughs quietly, head dipped down so her hair hides her face. Mulder waits for her to say something, clarify whether or not they'll be seeing each other before returning to the office after Christmas.

“I should head home,” she says, fingers tightening around her suitcase handles. “I'm going to see my mom and sister tomorrow, they've been worried. And no offense, but I need some time to myself… that's been rare over the past month, you know.”

“Of course,” he says, awkwardly. He understands, he really does, he's been itching for some space since the third week. He's just unsure of what to do now.

She looks up at him, shadows falling across her face from the street lamps. Her eyes glow in the darkness. “My brother and his girlfriend won't be in for the holidays for a few days,” she says. “Would the day after tomorrow be a good time?”

He tries to hide his surprise: “For what?”

She shrugs. “Thought we could have dinner, maybe watch a movie. Enjoy our time off. I'm buying.”

A grin spreads slowly over Mulder's face. “Sounds good,” he says. “Your place or mine?”

“Yours. You have the bigger TV.” She rises up on her tiptoes to kiss him. “See you the day after tomorrow.” Then she turns, suitcase rolling behind her as she heads to her car.

“Day after tomorrow,” he repeats, smiling a little as he fiddles with his luggage tag. She's here, and hopefully she won't be going anywhere.