#but shes the same in each one..... and that is comforting in some way | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

delphi-shield · 2 days ago

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— 「 FAKE IT TIL YOU MAKE IT 」

fake dating/christmas party/hurt/comfort ❄️ leon secret santa ❄️ gift for @mydarlingclaudia

MERRY CHRISTMAS MISS CLAUDIA i'm your secret santa! i've wanted to write og4 leon for this blog for a while and when i got you for secret santa i was like IT'S TIME lmao. i hope you enjoy and i hope you have the best christmas!

wc: 5k

summary: leon's in a bind. he thought he would have a love life by christmas, but the holidays have rolled around and he's still single. you'll pretend to be his date for just one night, right?

content: fake dating, real dating, coworkers, christmas parties, mistletoe, lots of late night conversations, lots of self-doubt, secret loser leon, technically post-re4. divider from @/strangergraphics

Over the past year, you've discovered that Leon's really good at pitching a fit when he doesn't want to do something - or, at least, when he thinks he doesn't want to do something. He'll bitch and moan about being tired, about how he just wants to stay in and have a 'chill date' with some old movie. No amount of assuring him that he would have fun once he got there would make him stop dragging his feet. That very night, you’d been waiting for him at the door with arms crossed, already decked out in your Christmas sweater, cheap reindeer antler headband affixed to your head.

Leon lets out a quiet puff of laughter when he slouches into the room, looking considerably less festive than you. He takes in your appearance - your tacky sweater, your headband, the way you pout and tap your foot impatiently. How, exactly, was he supposed to take this seriously?

“What, no one let you play any reindeer games?” Leon quips, taking his sweet time putting his shoes on.

You roll your eyes. When you finally manage to get him out the door, he has a blast. You know it, he knows it - this part is just mandatory torture, a bonding experience he loves to put you through.

"We go, we say hello, we leave." You assure him. “We don’t have to stay long.”

Leon might buy that at this moment, but you know the second you step through the door, you won't be leaving that Christmas party until the very end. Two hours in, you would be ready to go and Leon would be having the time of his life. You would be tugging at his sleeve, checking on him:

Ready to go? No, sorry, hun. Let me finish my beer and we can go.

Like clockwork. You weren't even sure he knew that he did that.

The Christmas music on the radio doesn’t do much to assuage his mood. He’s pouting the whole drive over. As soon as he pulls up to the house, he repeats the same mantra:

"We get in, we say hello, we leave." His hand smacks against the steering wheel to emphasize each point in the plan. You already have your door open, swinging out the side and marching up the freshly shoveled sidewalk.

"The decorations are so cute," you coo, crouching down to examine a particularly adorable light up gingerbread house - and to give him time to catch up.

Leon guides you up from the ground with a hand hovering behind your back. He herds you further down the sidewalk, still eager to get this over with. By the end of the night, you would be the one begging him to leave, but for now, you let him grouchily jam the doorbell.

Warmth floods out to greet you when Claire opens the door, the scent of cider and cinnamon rushing up to usher you in. Claire coos over your outfit, clicking her tongue and shaking her head.

"I should have put more effort in," she says, the pom of her Santa hat bouncing against her cheek. She's otherwise under dressed for the occasion, choosing comfort over festivity.

"What? No. Look at this place. You did all the decorations. That's way more effort," you counter, toeing off your shoes and stripping off your heavy coat.

Claire laughs. "I made my brother do most of it."

"Good to see you, too, Claire," Leon says, bristling over being ignored. She waves her hand, half hello, half dismissing him, and guides you further into the house, pointing you to the refreshments and giving a quick tour of the decorations.

Wherever Leon slinks off to, you're unconcerned. You have catching up to do just as much as he does.

Claire pops her hip up against the drink table. You twist the cap off your beer. Claire fishes one up for herself and pops the lid off against the table in one fluid motion. You huff a quick laugh - her party, her rules.

"So," Claire starts, leaning back against her elbows and surveying the crowd. She tracks your eyes for a moment, watches you watching Leon across the room. "I’ve been wondering. How did you guys actually meet?"

"What?" You laugh, eyes crinkling at the corners. You take a drink, buy yourself some time to feel out Claire's intention.

"Well, obviously, the first story you told me was a crock of shit," she laughs.

You can't argue with that. The first time you had met Claire, you had been masquerading as Leon’s partner, sparing him the embarrassment of turning up to her Christmas party alone. You hadn’t exactly announced to his friends that your first time meeting them had been a lie.

"I didn't lie," you point out. "Not totally."

"A lie by omission is still a lie."

"We actually did meet at work."

Claire rolls her eyes. She won't put up with this for long. “I mean, I buy that. But he absolutely did not charm you over the comms on some classified mission.”

There’s no part of you that wants to argue in Leon’s defense. He was a nightmare to work with, knew just how to get under your skin, and you were more than happy to have Hunnigan continue to babysit him.

“If you really want to know…”

It was the Wednesday before Christmas Eve when Leon's coiffed head popped up above your cubicle. Never a good sign. Where he went, trouble (and acclaim) followed. You filled in for Hunnigan once when she was out with bronchitis, and now you can't get rid of her puppy. He keeps coming back, a particularly malignant tumor that metastasizes over the walls of your cubicle, spills onto your desk and messes with your letter trays.

“You busy?” His arm slings over the top, hand drumming against the wall of your cubicle.

Stay strong, you think. Try not to move. Play dead. Maybe he'll get bored and move on. You try to type faster and only wind up jamming the keys down harder. Leon drums his hand quicker, rhythm irregular.

“What does it look like?” You bite out.

Mission failed. You weren't trained to resist torture like he was. In fact, you specialized in answering stupid questions and pointing out the obvious. It was a key component of your job.

Leon’s job, apparently, entailed blatantly ignoring hints. He swings into your cubicle, brushes aside a stack of documents to sit on your desk. His forearms balance on his thighs, hands held together between his knees.

“I need a favor.”

It just gets worse. What kind of favor could Special Agent Kennedy possibly want from you, and why did you have a feeling that it was going to be off the books?

"If I'm doing favors, I'm staying clocked in," you drone.

"Not possible for this one," he shrugs. "Sorry. I'll make it up to you."

You roll your eyes. Silence stretches between the two of you, filled only with the intermittent clicks of your mouse as you try to track down the most up to date geospatial information for your assigned agent - you know, the one you're actually supposed to be dealing with.

Leon's both annoying and persistent. He shakes his fringe from his face, stretches out 'so...' into an elongated, cowish sound that sets your teeth on edge. You roll your hand, gesturing for him to continue.

"I need a date," he blurts out. He's smart enough to continue speaking quickly, hand already raised - palm outward, begging for peace. "Not a real date. Just for a couple of hours, for a party. We go, we say hello, we leave."

A beat. You give him time to throw in a ‘just kidding’. God knows you aren’t throwing him a life preserver. When he twiddles his thumbs, content to sink instead of bail himself out, you scoff. You don’t even look up from your computer.

"That is, by far, your worst line."

"I’m serious. Please. Just a couple of hours. That's all I'm asking. You don’t have to talk to me ever again."

Your eyes cut over to him. Not a single smug smirk in sight. You're almost surprised by the pleading hiding behind his eyes. You take it all in, try to assess him for any hint of deceit. You only find the bags under his eyes, darker than you'd seen before.

“Go alone,” you shrug.

“I can’t. I’ve been –” Leon stops. He sits up tall, peers over the top of your cubicle to see who’s around. Meerkat is a good look on him, his nose sharp in profile, brow furrowed and focused. You avert your eyes back to your computer. He lowers his voice, his eyes still flitting around for eavesdroppers. “I’ve… exaggerated the truth about my love life to a few friends. I promised I would introduce them to someone at this party.”

You note the desperation, try to stay impartial. You're good at that part, too. Trained for it. He’s in a bind of his own making. Some humility would do him good. You’d be doing him a favor by making him own up to his lie.

Your gut flips when you consider his proposal. What was this, high school? Why could he possibly need a fake date? It was so immature, you almost couldn't believe it.

Another thought burns at the back of your mind, keeps you wary. You can't help but feel used. What, he was fine pretending to take you out but couldn't conceive of actually asking you to go to his stupid party? It had to be fake, a preservation of his ego. You weren't even a part of this equation.

You should say no. You should leave him high and dry, make him look like an idiot in front of his friends - because that's what he is. An idiot. An idiot who can't get an actual date to save his life.

"Match my salary, then we'll talk."

Leon groans, head flopping back against your cabinets. He’s considering it, you can tell.

What’s the harm in it, you wonder, casting him a sidelong glance. It would be nice to have something to do on Christmas Eve.

"You owe me for this. You're gonna pick me up."

Leon's eyes light up. He hops off your desk, practically bouncing on the balls of his feet. You hold up a finger to stop him before he can talk himself out of this.

"And you're gonna buy me dinner."

"There's food at the party."

"Good food?"

"If you don't like it, I'll get you something on the way home."

That's more like it. You spin back to face your computer, pulling your report back up.

"Deal. What's the dress code?"

Leon's silence speaks volumes. He's completely helpless when it comes to the details. You had figured someone with his looks had a social life that was bursting at the seams, that he was taking the fat field agent paycheck and he was hopping from party to party.

It's at his friend's house, he explains. You note the hesitation before he says 'friend'. Maybe it is all a front. Kennedy can't really go home to an empty apartment and a silent phone, can he? Everyone made him sound like such a big shot. You didn't expect the snapshots of your lives to be matching photographs, a wide shot when you held them next to each other. You try to picture his living room and all you can envision is a beige box.

You wring what little information he has out of him with a series of direct, probing questions. You're both comfortable in this routine. The quick, perfunct back and forth, an exchange not unlike one you might have over comms. He scribbles his number onto a sticky note and slides it over to you. You’ll work out the details of your story later, make it bulletproof.

The idea has been ghosting around the crevices of your mind for the entire day. You force yourself to wait a little longer before calling him, give him time to get home and get settled in. Trying to do the same is fruitless. Your appetite has mysteriously vanished, your Wednesday night show not catching your attention. You choke down half a bowl of cereal before you drum up the courage to call him.

"So, how did we meet?" You start, skipping past hello.

"Work."

"Going with the truth on that one?" You toss a piece of popcorn into your mouth, eyes fixed on your show.

"Helps to sprinkle the truth in with the lie, right?"

You can practically hear the grin on his face. You roll your eyes and bite back a sharp response. No need spoiling the mood immediately. You already agreed to do this. You won't make it harder than it needs to be.

"When did you ask me out?"

“Does that seriously matter?”

Of course it matters. Leon’s completely useless at this kind of thing, it turns out. You had expected more. He seemed the type to have experience. Maybe your own naivety had caught up to you. His confidence had you fully convinced that this would be a cake walk.

Was this seriously the guy who had single-handedly rescued the president’s daughter a few months back? Because he was floundering when you asked him if he had met your parents yet.

“Do you want me to meet them?”

“Oh my god,” you laugh, “No. They would eat you alive.”

That one stays in the story. It’s too believable not to. You bet Leon makes a real fool of himself in front of parents.

That’s where you went wrong. As soon as you started to rationalize what a relationship with him might look like, to add that touch of realism that would sell this story, you were fucked. He indulges all your questions and your musings.

Thursday night, you call him to ask what shows you watch together. He doesn’t see the point, doesn’t get that TV is such an important, ritualistic component of a relationship - or, at least, one that you want. He lets you pick, snorting in surprise when you name a dating show on VH1. You assign him homework. Watch the newest episode the Sunday before the party, and you’d fill him in on the details on the ride to the party.

Friday, you ask him what pet names he wants to use. He flounders again, acting dismissive in a way that you’ve now identified as embarrassment. You bite back the urge to tease him and offer up some suggestions instead.

“‘Babe’ is fine, I guess,” he says, “but I’m probably just going to call you by your name.”

When you hang up that night, you wonder if he meant it. Babe fits your perception of him from a week ago, but now you aren’t so sure. You turn the question over and over in your head for the next day, trying out different names in his voice. Something simple and classic, maybe. ‘Honey’, or ‘sweetie’.

The question is still turning in your mind when he calls you on Saturday. You don’t have a chance to get your question out. He blindsides you with his own.

“Have we said ‘I love you’ yet?”

Your mind races to catch up. Had he? No way. He mumbled when he got off the phone sometime, but there was no way that was an ‘I love you’. There was no way. It hadn’t even been a full week yet.

Then it clicks for you. Right. This is fake, all of it. Every phone call was for his benefit. You had initiated all of this. You should be happy that he’s finally contributing to the planning. You feel sick to your stomach instead.

“I don’t care,” you say, entirely nonchalant, none of it forced. The silence hangs over the line. You pray for Leon to let it go, to give you the grace that you haven’t given him.

He’s smooth with it - doesn’t point out the strain in your voice, blames it on a bad connection. For once, he takes the reins. No ‘I love you’ yet. He’s working up the courage, he says, and your heart clenches, breath catches, head spins.

You make an excuse to leave early. He reminds you to tune in for your show tomorrow. You hang up without saying goodbye.

He picks you up just like he promised. As much as you’d wanted to wear the silly, light-up Christmas sweater at the back of your closet, you couldn’t. You couldn’t show up as his date looking like that. No one would buy it. You already look out of place on his arm.

You’d expected the car ride to be awkward. The last time you’d seen him in person had been when you struck this whole deal. Instead of rehashing your story, though, Leon asks you question after question about the dating show you told him to watch.

To your surprise, he’d actually watched it. You go over the contestants, the washed up rock star they were all attempting to date, even recap the most notable drama. He’s hooked. The veneer of disinterest he tries to keep up is so thin it’s see through. You almost want to tell him to turn the car around so you can catch the reruns instead of suffering through this party.

You don't know what kind of party you were expecting, but it certainly wasn't this. Every corner of the place was saturated in Christmas, inside and out. Garlands of popcorn and dried orange slices, a tree decorated so heavily with strands of lights and garish ornaments that it's branches sagged. The warm lights bathed everything in a smooth glow. The chill that had stung your face on the walk in melted away, leaving only the pulsing afterburn across your cheeks.

Plenty of people had already arrived - thank god. If you'd had to make awkward small talk with the host until people arrived to take the heat off of you, you might have just said fuck it and marched back to the car. You keep a firm grip on Leon's arm, eyes flitting across each and every face. You didn't recognize a single one of these people.

That's precisely why Leon chose you. It makes your stomach lurch to think about. You're convenient. A face to put to a title, to apply to the vague stories that Leon has fabricated. Anyone could be on his arm right now, and it wouldn't make a difference. No one would know.

You stay glued to his side for the first hour. It works well enough, a handful of people overjoyed to meet you after all the stories that Leon’s told. You do your best to keep the sparkle in your eye, to look at him like he makes the sun shine. It’s hard when it feels like the floor could open up and swallow you at any given moment, when each affectionate touch is just a tool.

You excuse yourself for a drink. That will help your nerves. It can’t make them any worse, that’s for sure. You have a clear window, the drink table empty. In and out, then back to Leon’s side.

Fishing up a beer from the ice chest, you scavenge around for a bottle opener. Christ - all these preparations and no bottle opener? You’re tunnel-visioned into your search, don’t even notice the woman joining you at the table

“Want some help with that?” A redhead chirps, sidling up to you. She holds her hand out for your drink.

What’s the harm? You pass it over with a ‘thanks’ that quickly turns to a sharp inhale. She pops the lid off the beer with the edge of the table, tears a jagged crescent through the plastic tablecloth - cut one of Santa’s reindeer clean in two.

“My party, my rules,” she laughs. “I’m Claire. You’re with Leon, right?”

Your stomach drops. You can practically peer down at yourself, your soul leaving your body for a brief moment. Shit– Leon had warned you about her. Said she wasn't malicious, per se, but she could sniff out bullshit quicker than most. You run the facts back in your mind. If you could get past her, you'd be golden.

Claire's finger bounces between you and Leon. She leans her hip against the table, folds her arms across her chest.

“I don't get that at all,” she says, tossing her hair over her shoulder with a flick of her head. “What's the story?”

Holy shit, that was quicker than you expected. Stay cool. Remember your lines.

“We actually met at work,” you start. Easy enough. It’s not even a lie. You unravel the rest of the details for her one by one, plodding through the steps of your imagined romance with deliberate care.

Claire’s eyes stayed fixed on you. She smiles and laughs where appropriate, but she tracks you with the cold eyes of a wolf on the hunt. A chill pulses down your spine. Is it really so hard to believe that you’re with Leon? Do you look so out of place?

“Good for him,” she finally says. She takes a long drink, still watching you.

“He’s great.”

“He’s okay.”

Maybe she meant it as a joke, but you have to force your laugh out from around the lump in your throat. Did she buy it? You can’t tell. She claps you on the shoulder, harder than you expected.

“It was really great to meet you,” Claire says. She slips back into the crowd with a smile, flowing naturally into a group of guests. Your eyes linger on her, but she doesn’t look back. She doesn’t slip into hushed whispers, no one turns to stare in your direction.

You wind back through the crowd, glue yourself back to Leon’s side. He lifts his arm instinctively, curls it around your hip like it’s the most natural thing in the world. He doesn’t even pause his conversation.

How is this the same clueless man that you had spent half a week planning out every minute detail of your imagined relationship? How can he be so relaxed and in control now?

That’s the difference between the two of you, you realize. There was planning, and there was doing. Clearly, Leon could see his commitments through. You were botching this. Everyone knew you were a fake. They had to.

“You okay?” Leon asks, head inclined closer to your ear. You swallow thickly, force a smile.

“Are you about ready to go?” You ask, keeping your voice low.

He’s not - you can tell - but he tosses his snack plate in the trash and says a round of goodbyes anyway, urging you out the door.

The car is silent. Leon flips through radio stations, never staying on one for long. Christmas music, rock ballad, regular ballad, Christmas music again - repeat. He fidgets with the vents, turns the heat up, then down, one degree at a time.

"Seriously, you good?" he asks.You keep your face turned to the window, watching the decorations roll by.

Leon glances at you - or that's what he thinks, at least. His eyes linger for too long. He corrects his course sharply, swerving away from the curb at the last possible moment.

"Yeah. Fine."

Neither of you believe that. You’ve spent the whole night lying - he knows what it looks like, and he lets you get away with it.

Leon turns the music up a tick. You spend the rest of the drive in silence. He pulls up in front of your place and cuts the engine, and that has to be the record for world’s most awkward drive.

Bundling your things in your arms, you hurry out of his car with a quick ‘thanks for inviting me’ that feels misplaced given the circumstances - but what the hell else were you going to say? You needed to sleep this whole thing off.

"Hey."

You stop in your tracks. You're almost positive you've left a drag tail in the snow, stopped so fast you nearly slipped on the sidewalk. Leon's window is rolled down, his body nearly halfway out of it.

"I appreciate what you did for me tonight," he says.

Your heart deflates, a balloon released in your chest, bouncing off your ribs and drumming against your lungs before it floats pitifully to a rest in the pit of your stomach.

"No problem," you say, shoulders back, head held high. "To be honest, I didn't think anyone would buy it."

His head tips to the side. His eyes narrow, studying you, trying to figure out your meaning.

"Why? You did great."

"I don't know. I didn't think we would look like a very believable couple."

He sticks his head back into his car, fumbles with his seatbelt overlong, and finally pops the door open. His feet find traction on the icy sidewalk much easier than yours. You chalk it up to his boots, his training, anything to keep your mind on the little details instead of the big picture.

“I thought it was pretty believable.”

Don’t read into it, you tell yourself again and again. It’s just going to hurt if you try to interpret greater meaning from that.

“Yeah? Glad I could help.” You hook your thumb over your shoulder, fishing clumsily for your keys. “Guess I’ll see you at work, then.”

Leon’s eyes cut back to your door. He shifts his weight from foot to foot, balanced perfectly on the ice. For a moment, you think you see his hand twitch towards yours. You linger, waiting for the touch of his hand around your wrist, willing the warmth that you imagine to be real.

He stuffs his hands into his pockets and nods.

“Yeah. See you.”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Claire interjects. “He didn’t even ask you out that night? He walked you to the door and bailed?”

You shake your head. “I asked him out like a week later. We were working late on New Years. He said he knew a great spot for coffee if I wanted to go on break. I said we could only go on our day off.”

Her eyes sharpen, casting her hunt out into the crowd of party-goers. You find Leon first - hunched over a snack platter across the room, contributing minimally to conversation with some people from Claire’s work. Claire, experienced hunter that she is, tracks your sight to find her quarry.

“He is so stupid. So dumb. Look at you,” she declares, waving you up and down - presenting you. “He made you ask? Ooh, I’m gonna – Leon!”

Leon’s head pops up from the cheese tray - meerkat chic, swiveling in the direction of the woman on the hunt. Claire points to the ground in front of her sharply, doesn’t even have to bark out ‘c’mere’ before his training kicks in and he’s marching himself over.

“What’s up?” He pops a palmful of cashews into his mouth, then slides the same hand against the small of your back.

His casual attitude earns him no favors. Claire thwacks his shoulder, berates him for making you ask first. He shrinks away - play dead. You taught him that one.

“You ready to go?” You ask once Claire’s done ragdolling him and marches off to tell the others how spineless Leon is.

Leon surveys the party - that’s what you think he’s doing, at least. His gaze is focused higher, examining the doorways carefully. His eyes sharpen, lock on their target. He nods, his thumb rubbing gentle arcs against your back.

“Yeah. Let’s head out. Wait for me in the hall, okay? I’ll get our stuff.”

You follow his directions thoughtlessly, planting yourself in the hallway he had pointed to. Leon flits about, saying goodbyes as he weaves through the crowd. Your coat is slung over his arm when he winds his way back to you.

Before you can protest, tell him he forgot your bag and your scarf, he smacks a hand dramatically against his forehead. He holds up a finger - hang on, here, take this, I’ll be right back – kisses your forehead, and floats back into the crowd.

He comes out only holding your scarf. You huff. Leon’s not a forgetful man. This is clearly on purpose, for his own entertainment. He loops your scarf around your necks for you, settling it into place and tying a clumsy knot.

“Your bag. I forgot, I’m sorry.” He kisses your cheek as he turns.

There was a twinkle in his eye when he turned. You’d caught it. It wasn’t just the shine of the lights. He was up to something. You scan your surroundings, look for cameras hidden, for guests watching a little too intently. Nothing immediately jumps out at you. You glance up - and there’s the culprit. A little branch bound with twine, berries dotting the little branches, suspended over the doorway.

Schooling your face back into mild annoyance, you go so far as to tap your foot. If he wants to put on a show, so will you.

“Here you go,” he says, handing over your bag. You wait for his next move. No way this was the end of his plan - and you’re right. As soon as your bag is slung over your shoulder, he’s patting himself down. Front left, front right, back pockets at the same time, chest at the same time. “Shit. My keys. One second–”

You kiss his cheek before he can strike first.

“On the key rack,” you point out, hooking your thumb over your shoulder. “It’s bad karma to abuse the mistletoe, you know.”

Leon huffs. He spares the mistletoe above your heads a glance.

“You made that up.”

Absolutely, you did. He crosses through the doorway and snags his keys. Before you can head out the door, he dangles them over his head. You roll your eyes and kiss him square on the lips before he can justify his poor man’s mistletoe.

You’ll risk bad karma for a kiss.

#leonsecretsanta2024 #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy fluff #leon s. kennedy x reader #resident evil fluff #x reader #merry christmas hehe #sorry i made the banner as a joke initially and then it didnt look right without it lmaooo

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endearng · 3 days ago

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Pairing: Emily Prentiss x fem!reader Summary: Emily always comes home to a nice surprise. WC: 1k Warnings: A little suggestive by the end but that's it :) A/N: This is my first time writing for Ems!!! Can you guys tell that I have a thing for 'coming home'? lol This has been sitting on my drafts for the longest time, so I figured I'd post it. Hope you guys enjoy it! :)

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You'd gotten a call from your girlfriend, Emily Prentiss, telling you she was coming home that night. You felt instantly better, because the week had treated you very poorly, having dealt with major mistakes from people at work to having a flat tire mid-way home. Even through the phone, her cheerful tone was contagious to you, making happiness pump through your very bloodstream. You knew she worked really hard and other problems were probably one of the last things she needed to think about once she got home. So, you always went out of your way to make sure she felt welcome when she got back from her cases, so tonight it wouldn't be different.

Well, tonight would be very different. You decided you would propose to her as soon as she got home. You've spent some fair share of your time thinking about it and it made perfect sense. The two of you were together for three years now, and since you moved in together to a new apartment, which was now yours, you had no doubts that she was the love of your life. The one you wanted to spend the rest of your life with. Emily gave you all the safety you could possibly long for in a relationship, not to mention that she was the most loving partner ever. Her absences made you feel incomplete, but seeing her come back to you made your heart flutter every time like it was the first.

On the way back home, you got flowers — daisies, to be more specific, a personal favorite of yours and Emily's. Once you entered your apartment, you tidied up the place and cooked her favorite dish as you listened to one of your favorite albums, all the while thinking about how it'd feel to see her, to be in each other's embrace again, how would she react... You weren't nervous, of course, you knew she loved you just the same, but what if she wasn't ready to get married? What if she wasn't there yet? What if she didn't want to marry you? The thought made you shudder.

When you finished your cooking, you got ready by dressing yourself in one of her favorites looks on you, a set of pajamas that clung to your body — you felt comfortable, the cotton material against your skin felt great, but Emily's hands on you when she first saw you in that set felt heavenly.

You smiled to yourself, already anticipating her reaction.

You sat on your couch, mindlessly scrolling on your phone and answering a few texts from your friends and family, desperately trying to ignore the anxiety bubbling inside you. You were watching a puppy video when you heard the door unlock, which made you dash to the door in an instant, "Emily, my darling! You're home!" You said, throwing yourself into her arms. She grinned softly, thinking that she'd never get used to you, let alone to how you reacted everytime she got home. It was so nice being safe and feeling loved and wanted.

"I missed you, my girl," she said when you slightly pulled away from her arms. Both of her hands carressed your cheeks and traveled to the sides of your neck, thumb gently ghosting over your earlobes. Her gaze was intensely fixed on yours and you could feel the love in those beautiful, black eyes. After silently admiring you for some time, for her eyes expressed something that words failed to, she captured your lips in a kiss that told you just how much she had, indeed, missed you. Her kisses always made you feel like the luckiest woman in the world, not only because you had her attention solely on you, but also because you were the one who truly held her heart in your hands. "I'm sorry I took so long, my girl, but I'm here." Another passionate kiss. "I'm home."

"That's what matters." You mumbled, lips pressed to her cheek. She smiled.

"That," she chuckled, "and the fact that you're always waiting for me. Coming home to a house without you in it makes no sense to me anymore."

You chuckled, absolutely delighted by the effect you had on your girlfriend. Soon to be… "I have a surprise for you."

Placing her hands on your waist, she chuckled, "That's sweet, darling. But I don't think it's as nice as mine."

You laced your hands together at the back of her neck, asking while grinning stupidly, "You have a surprise for me, Em?" To which she nodded. "Okay. We can both surprise each other on the count of three."

“Okay."

Deep breaths. She loves you. Be brave. "One, two, three—Will you marry me?"

As you finished the countdown and blurted the sentence nervously, Emily was down on one knee, having let go of your waist at breakneck speed once you said the word "three" and pulling a ring box from her pocket. You gasped and Emily's mouth hung agape, like a fish out of water.

Once the surprise of the moment washed away slightly, you burst out laughing with pure bliss, soon joined by your now fiancé — if her being down on one knee and holding out a ring for you meant anything, it definitely meant that she would, in fact, marry you. You got down on your knees to hold her in your arms, relishing in the moment of sheer joy between you two. Your heart felt safe and complete and everything was because of the woman who held you in her arms and carried you so dear and near to her own heart.

"I love you." You muttered, kissing the top of her head, voice slightly muffled by her hair.

"I love you, darling. So much. I... I can't believe we're gonna get married." She said, breaking in the biggest grin you've ever seen on her face.

“I can't believe you said yes." You smiled.

"Technically, I didn't..."

"Shut up, Prentiss."

She pinched your chin, smiling devilishly. "In a few months, I'm gonna be saying that to you, too.” She quipped. “Now, come on. Let's see you out of those pajamas, hm?”

#emily prentiss #ssa emily prentiss #emily prentiss x reader #emily prentiss x you #emily prentiss self insert #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fanfiction #cm fanfic #emily prentiss wlw #wlw fanfic #emily prentiss blurb

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lilmisssona · 1 day ago

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𐙚 ˚A ' Chris ' Mas Mayhem 𐙚 ˚

𐙚 ˚Pairing - Bang Chan × Fem Reader

𐙚 ˚Plot - YN returns to Seoul after three years, leaving behind her boyfriend for a work project, and finally gets transferred back just before Christmas. Excited to reunite, she decides to move into her boyfriend’s place, only to discover it isn’t his house at all. To make matters worse, she learns her Christmas gifts have been going to the wrong address all along—leading to an unexpected twist.

𐙚 ˚Genre - Angst, Hurt, Healing,Comedy, Fluff

𐙚 ˚Warnings - Hurt, betrayal, breakup, neighbor au, non Idol au, healing, comfort, Strangers to lovers

𐙚 ˚Word count - 8.7 K 𐙚 ˚ Screenshot Count - 2

𐙚 ˚A/N - Ahh! I'm so excited to share the first episode of Staymas! Dive into this fun mix of Christmas gifts, neighborly banter, and the spark of something deeper. This is just Slight proofread. So apologies for any mistakes 🙂‍↕️

𐙚 ˚SKZ Masterlist 𐙚 ˚Staymas Masterlist

It was a quiet winter afternoon in Seoul. The capital city, once blanketed in snow just weeks ago, had now settled into the crisp, dry embrace of December air.

The crunch of the remaining snow under your boots brought you back to the present as you stepped out of the taxi. You were home. After three years of relentless overtime, endless meetings, and the nonstop pace of Tokyo, you were finally back in Seoul. Back to the city you had always called home.

Your overseas transfer to Tokyo had been your first project as a lead. While life in Tokyo matched the speed and intensity of Seoul, you missed your home; and, more than anything, you missed your boyfriend, Chris Han.

You had just started dating Chris four years ago after a chance meeting at a club. He had been everything you could hope for: caring, attentive, and loving.

But things took a turn when you mentioned your transfer, barely a year into your relationship. He resisted the idea vehemently, arguing that long-distance relationships never worked. But this was your dream project, and you were determined.

Reluctantly, he agreed, and you left with tears in your eyes, clinging to the hope that distance would strengthen your bond.

At first, it did. Video calls became your lifeline, and you were grateful for his support despite the miles between you. Each Christmas, you went out of your way to send him thoughtful gifts: hand-knit sweaters, heartfelt letters, and cookies you baked yourself. You imagined him opening them, smiling, and feeling less alone.

But as time passed, the calls became less frequent, and the distance began to weigh on you. Yet, your heart remained steadfast, filled with love for Chris. Now that you were back, you couldn't wait to celebrate your first Christmas together in years.

-----------------------------------------------------

Standing in front of the apartment building, you took a deep breath, trying to steady your racing nerves. You had gone to great lengths to make this moment a reality, even renting an apartment in the same building as his, though he had no idea yet. This was meant to be a surprise, something special that would bring you closer in a way he wouldn’t expect.

Unbeknownst to him, you'd taken the opportunity to secure a place in the very same building, arranging everything during a video call with the tenant. You had even wired some advance money to her, securing the apartment without him ever suspecting a thing.

The elevator doors opened on your desired floor, and you stepped out, the faint hum of the building filling the quiet space around you. The tenant, the one you had finalized everything with, was waiting for you to complete the paperwork.

She smiled warmly, gesturing for you to come inside. As you hesitated in the hallway, your eyes darted nervously around, scanning for any familiar faces. You didn’t want to risk your boyfriend finding out about your arrival just yet, so you made sure to move cautiously, stepping inside and out of sight, ready to finalize this surprise and begin a new chapter.

You signed the last documents, handed over the remaining deposit, and took the keys to your new home. The apartment, though sparse, felt cozy and warm, just as it had seemed in the calls. After a quick shower, you put on the sweater Chris had once gifted you, applied light makeup, and prepared for the moment you’d been waiting for.

Clutching a box of homemade chocolate chip cookies, your heart pounded as you approached apartment 504- Chris's place. Smoothing your scarf, you knocked on the door, excitement bubbling inside you.

You pictured the scene perfectly: Chris opening the door, stunned, before pulling you into his arms with a cheesy line like, "I can't believe you're mine forever now." The two of you would share cookies, cuddle, and watch movies like you used to. It was the perfect surprise.

But when the door opened, it wasn’t Chris who greeted you....

“Uh, hi?” The man at the door blinked at you, clearly confused. He was tall, with soft, dark hair that framed his strikingly sharp features. He looked effortlessly attractive, dressed in casual sweatpants and a hoodie, as if he’d just stepped out of a photoshoot.

You froze, your brain scrambling to make sense of the situation.

“Is Chris here?” you asked hesitantly.

The man tilted his head, raising an eyebrow. “Yeah… Who’s asking?”

“I’m Y/N, his girlfriend,” you replied nervously. “He lives here, right? Apartment 504?”

The man blinked at you, his confusion deepening. ��M-My girlfriend? Sorry, but… do I know you?”

Your stomach tightened in a knot as you stared at him. Maybe Chris Han hadn’t told his friends about your relationship. Or maybe this guy was some distant relative visiting. But wait, he said “My girlfriend?” That didn’t make any sense, you thought. Chris Han was your boyfriend, not this stranger standing in front of you with a perplexed look on his face.

The silence between you both was deafening as you locked eyes. You couldn’t help but admire his features again. This guy was effortlessly handsome in a way that felt almost unfair. His eyes glinted with amusement as he studied you just as you did him. His skin, with a warm golden undertone, glowed faintly in the soft light spilling from the apartment. His jawline was sharp and defined, like a sculptor’s dream, and his high cheekbones gave his face an almost regal quality.

The air hung thick, suffocating in its silence. Yet, you couldn’t tear your gaze away from him, just as he couldn’t from you. It felt like something needed to break the tension before you’d be trapped in this awkward loop forever.

“Yo, Chris?” a voice called from inside. “What’s got you so caught up?”

The stranger snapped out of his thoughts and suddenly burst into laughter. Embarrassed by the situation, you stepped back, ready to leave.

“Wait, wait,” he said, holding up a hand to stop you. “You think I’m your boyfriend?” He grinned, leaning casually against the doorframe. “Hate to break it to you, but I’m not. I’m Chris Bang. And unless I’ve somehow gotten into a relationship I didn’t know about, I think you’ve got the wrong guy.”

Your cheeks burned red with embarrassment. “What?! But… this is apartment 504! Doesn’t Chris live here?”

“Yeah,” Chris Bang said, nodding. “That’s me. Chris Bang. Single. Not your boyfriend.”

The realization hit you like a freight train. “Oh my god,” you mumbled, backing away. “I… this is so...this is a mistake. I’m so sorry!”

“Wait, wait, wait!” Chris called after you, laughing as you turned to flee. “Don’t run away yet! I want to know how this happened. Did you just knock on the wrong door, or did your boyfriend ghost you and give you my address instead?”

You whipped back around, glaring at him. “He did not ghost me! I—” You froze in confusion. Wait. If this wasn’t Chris Han’s apartment, then where…?

Chris Bang watched as the realization painfully dawned on you. “Wait… are you the new neighbor who moved into apartment 404?”

“Yeah,” you muttered, your voice filled with regret. “Apparently, across from you.”

“Well, this is going to be fun,” Chris said, clearly enjoying your humiliation. Before you could respond, the elevator dinged down the hall, and a door opened just a floor above yours. Stepping out of apartment 604 was Chris Han—your boyfriend.

A wave of relief washed over your face. Butterflies fluttered in your stomach again as you watched him approach the elevator. “Babe!” you called out, waving, while simultaneously giving your new namesake neighbor an apology. Chris Bang just smiled and waved it off, closing the door behind him.

“Chris, babe!” you called again, louder this time. At the sound of your voice, Chris Han looked down, his eyes widening in surprise as they landed on you.

“Y/N?” Chris Han called out, his voice thick with confusion. His steps were hesitant as he descended the stairs toward you.

“Chris, babe, surprise!” Your smile widened as he stepped closer to you. You opened your arms, eager to embrace him, hoping he’d pull you into his warm, comforting hug. But he didn’t. Instead of the excitement you’d expected, his gaze remained distant—cold, even. “You’re here?” he asked, his voice stiff. “When did you come back?”

“Just this morning! I wanted to surprise you!” you chirped, trying to break the palpable tension. “And guess what? I even rented an apartment here. So we’re neighbors now!” You pointed toward your apartment door with a nervous smile. “Maybe just a floor apart,” you added, awkwardly scratching your head.

“You rented… an apartment? Here?” Chris’s voice was flat, lacking the warmth you had expected.

“Yeah,” you said softly, feeling your heart sink. “I missed you, Chris. Three years is a long time, and I thought… Well, I thought it was time for us to be close again.”

“And this thought occurred to you… after three years?” Chris’s gaze was sharp, colder than you had ever seen it, and it hit you like a physical blow to the chest.

“Well, the project finally wrapped up, and now I’m back...to you. Won’t you welcome me?” Though your voice lacked some of the earlier enthusiasm, there was still hope in your words.

“You know what? Let’s talk inside.” Chris sighed heavily. “It doesn’t feel right to say this in a public space.” Nodding, you followed him upstairs, your chest tightening with each step.

-----------------------------------------------------

You stepped into Chris’s apartment, quickly glancing around. The place was neat, but it felt cold, uninviting. It wasn’t the home you had envisioned for the two of you. It looked more like a temporary crash pad than a place filled with warmth and love. There wasn’t a single Christmas decoration in sight, not even with Christmas Eve just two days away. The only decoration was a solitary string of fairy lights on a corner shelf.

“Oh, you didn’t decorate for Christmas?” you asked, trying to keep the disappointment out of your voice. Chris shrugged. “Haven’t had the time. Last-minute work before the holidays has been crazy.”

“Maybe we can decorate it together?” you suggested, forcing a smile.

Chris let out a long, weary sigh before turning back to you. “Look, Y/N, I’ve been meaning to talk to you about this, but it didn’t feel right to say it over the phone. Now that you’re here, I think it’s best we just move on.” He paused. “From us.”

You stared at him, stunned. “So… you’re breaking up with me? Two days before our anniversary? After three years of making it work long distance?” Your voice cracked with rage as you glared at him.

He hesitated again, his voice soft but sharp, like daggers to your heart. “Look, Y/N, I’m really sorry, but I think… maybe we’ve been holding on to something that’s not really there anymore. I’m sorry, but… this… us… it can’t work anymore.”

The ground beneath you shook violently as you absorbed the words spilling from Chris’s mouth. Everything you had planned, everything you had believed, crumbled in an instant. After a long stretch of silence, you exhaled a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding back.

Chris stared at you, uncertain, hesitant about what to say next.

"I thought you loved me..." you whispered, your voice trembling, barely audible over the pounding of your heart. Chris stood before you, his gaze fixed on the floor, unable to meet your eyes. The silence between you was suffocating, each second stretching endlessly.

“I didn’t mean for it to happen like this,” he finally said, his voice low and thick with regret. “I’m sorry, Y/N.”

You stood there, frozen in place, the words echoing in your mind like a cruel mockery. The sting of betrayal tightened in your chest, making it hard to breathe. Your hands clenched at your sides as you fought back the tears threatening to spill.

Finally, a bitter laugh escaped your lips, cold and sharp like shattered glass. “Thank you, Chris. Thank you for ruining everything.” Your voice broke, and your chest ached from the weight of your own words. You took a shaky step back, your vision blurring.

You added, with venom laced in your tone, “Merry fucking Christmas.”

Without waiting for a response, you turned and walked back toward your apartment. As you passed Chris Bang’s door, it suddenly opened, startling you. He looked at you with an expression mixed with concern and curiosity.

"Are you okay?" he asked, his voice softer this time.

You didn’t answer. Instead, you pushed past him and into your own apartment. The warmth that had once filled the space now felt distant, as if the walls were closing in on you. The contrast between how it had felt just an hour ago and the suffocating coldness now was striking. Closing the door behind you, you sank to the floor, beside the doorframe, tears streaming down your face.

----------------------------------------------------

December 24th

Two days later, it was Christmas Eve. You hadn’t yet moved on from that painful conversation with Chris. Determined to fix things, you decided to meet him later. One awkward conversation wasn’t going to be the end of everything. Maybe you could work through it. Maybe everything would be okay after this.

You hit send on the message, asking him to meet you at 8 in the evening at his favorite restaurant. He agreed, and you smiled at your phone, slipping it back into your pocket.

Since you were meeting him at 8,three hours after your shift ended, you decided to treat yourself to a little coffee at the cozy cafe beside your new apartment. It wasn’t long before you were settled inside, the warmth inside a welcome contrast to the biting winter wind outside. Ordering a cappuccino, you took a seat by the window, sipping your drink as you stared out at the wind-whipped scene.

Not long after, something caught your eye. Across the cafe, a familiar silhouette of a man and a woman sat at a table just a little farther away. You squinted, just to be sure.

And there he was—Chris Han—feeding an unknown woman a piece of cake. The woman, with long brown hair, blushed and laughed at something Chris must have said. They looked so comfortable with each other, so intimate, and Chris smiled at her with the same warmth he used to smile at you three years ago. And then they kissed.

Kissed ?!!

A sharp pang of betrayal struck your gut. Your mouth hung open in shock. Rage boiled inside you, and before you could stop it, your legs carried you over to their table.

"So this is why you decided to move on, huh?" you called, standing at the edge of their table.

"Y/N?!" Chris exclaimed, clearly caught off guard. "What are you doing here?"

"Me?" you scoffed. "Oh, I don’t know, maybe I’m just waiting to meet my boyfriend after his shift to fix things."

"And look what I find! He’s here all along, kissing and feeding cake to another woman, like the past three years meant nothing to you." Your voice dripped with sarcasm.

"Chris, who is this?" The woman looked awkwardly between the two of you.

Chris sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Y/N, now’s not the time."

"Not the time?" you trembled. "So, this is why you said ‘it’s not going to work,’ is it?"

"You were cheating on me all along, and now that I’m back, you’re too scared to admit it. So, you fake this 'it’s not going to work' nonsense!"

"This is the reason I told you long-distance doesn’t work for me, Y/N. But you didn’t listen to me back then!" Chris shot back.

"Our relationship meant nothing to you, did it? I was just a fool, believing our love was still alive!" you spat bitterly.

Chris sighed again, looking at you with something that resembled pity. "I’m sorry, Y/N. I didn’t want it to happen like this, but… I’ve moved on. " " I told you my answer remains the same"

"Unbelievable!" you blinked back tears, refusing to let him see you cry. "I hope she’s worth it," you said coldly, turning on your heel and storming out of the cafe.

You clung to your jacket as you waited for the elevator, feeling the weight of the evening pressing on you. It was uncomfortably cold in the lobby. Maybe it was because of what had just happened—that the warmth and hope you once carried for a fresh start had been snuffed out, leaving you broken and alone.

Just as you were about to step into the elevator, a voice called out, "Hey, wait for me!" You looked up to see Chris Bang rushing toward the elevator. Quickly, you wedged your hand between the doors to stop them from closing as he hopped in.

"Thank you," he panted, taking deep breaths to steady himself after running. You nodded, acknowledging him silently. You just wanted to be alone, but the elevator seemed to take forever to reach your floor. The tears you’d been holding back threatened to spill as you replayed everything that had happened. Was it your fault? Could you have prevented it? If you hadn’t taken on the new project, if you hadn’t been transferred… maybe this wouldn’t have happened...

These thoughts clouded your mind as the elevator slowly ascended. When it finally reached your floor, you stepped out, your head still in a daze.

"YN, is it?" Chris suddenly asked. You nodded, barely meeting his gaze.

"Are you okay?" he asked, his voice filled with concern.

You realized you must look like a mess,your mascara smudged, your hair disheveled, your eyes red from holding back tears. You sighed and gave a shaky laugh. "Not really."

Chris tilted his head, his sharp features softening. "Wanna talk about it? I’ve got cookies, and I promise I don’t feed cake to random people in cafes." He smiled, his warmth surprising you.

You blinked, taken aback. How did he know? But he wasn’t teasing you. There was no smug grin or sarcastic quip, just sincerity.

"Cookies?" you repeated, your voice barely above a whisper.

Chris smiled, a soft, lopsided grin that felt genuine. "Yeah, cookies. And hot chocolate. The perfect cure for whatever mess you just walked away from."

----------------------------------------------------

If this had happened on any other day, you would’ve brushed him off and retreated to your apartment to cry in solitude. But something about the warmth in Chris's expression, the absence of judgment, just pure sincerity, made you pause and truly look at him. Maybe it was because it was Christmas Eve, or maybe it was the way his dark oceanic eyes and his sincere smile spread warmth inside you. You sighed, quickly wiping your eyes. "You know what? Sure. Why not."

You motioned for him to lead the way as he opened the door to his apartment. Reluctantly, you stepped inside after he gestured you in. Despite your lingering embarrassment, curiosity got the better of you as you glanced around.

The apartment was cozy, though not overly decorated. It was minimalist at best. A single gray couch sat in the living room, with two plush cushions resting on it. In front of it was a wooden coffee table with what looked like an empty mug of coffee. Yet there was a festive vibe in the room: small fairy lights twinkled around the window and shelves, and a medium-sized Christmas tree stood in the corner, neatly decorated with baubles and stockings. It felt inviting, almost like home.

You awkwardly sank into the gray couch and waited for him, as Chris disappeared behind the kitchen counter for a few moments, telling you to make yourself comfortable.

The scent of vanilla and chocolate soon filled your nostrils, making your stomach rumble. You hadn’t eaten anything since breakfast; the last-minute workload had kept you too busy. Save for a couple of sips of cappuccino at the café, you hadn’t had solid food all day. You hadn’t even realized how hungry you were until Chris placed a plate of cookies and a cup of hot chocolate in front of you. Your mouth watered at the sight.

"There you go, YN," Chris smiled, handing you the cup of hot chocolate he’d made. "Please, help yourself."

"Thank you," you muttered, taking a sip. The sweetness of the hot chocolate melted away the bitterness in your heart, filling you with warmth. “Hmm, it’s so good,” you sighed in satisfaction.

“It sure is,” Chris hummed, settling beside you on the couch.

"So..." Chris leaned back, studying you carefully. "If you’re comfortable sharing... is it boyfriend trouble, or...?"

"More like ex-boyfriend trouble now," you interjected, a bitter laugh escaping your lips.

He raised an eyebrow but didn’t interrupt.

"Actually, we met four years ago. A year later, I had to leave Seoul for a project in Tokyo. I had to lead a new company project."

"He didn’t want to do long distance. It led to a lot of disagreements, but somehow, we agreed to give it a shot. But when I came back two days ago, he didn’t seem too happy about it." You paused. "He told me it wasn’t working anymore..." You looked away, trying to hide the tears that were threatening to fall. "I thought our love could withstand the distance, but I guess I was wrong."

"And today, you saw him with someone else, right?" Chris asked gently.

You whipped your head back toward him, stunned. "H..How’d you know?"

"It’s the only café in the neighborhood. I was there for my daily coffee and happened to witness it," he said, glancing at you with an apologetic look. "I’m sorry if I intruded on your space."

Your cheeks burned in embarrassment, but somehow, you still wanted to keep talking. "Yeah, that’s how I became single on Christmas Eve," you said wistfully, a small smile forming on your lips.

"That’s rough. I’m so sorry," Chris winced.

"Yeah, I was an idiot for holding onto it for three years," you said with a bittersweet smile. "Maybe I shouldn’t have taken the transfer. Maybe things would have been different. Maybe we wouldn’t have broken up..."

"YN," Chris said softly, turning you to face him. "Look at me."

You met his eyes, and he continued, "I know, for what it’s worth, that it’s not your fault. That Chris Han... he can go screw himself for letting go of someone like you."

His words caught you off guard. "Now, aren’t you going a little too far ahead of yourself?" you replied with a half-laugh, half-smile. "You barely know me, Mister. How can you say that?"

"I know for a fact, YN," he said, his voice calm and sincere. "I know how much you loved him, and how unappreciative he was. I know he didn’t care about you." "For what it’s worth, from my two cents as your new neighbor, I believe you deserve so much better. Way more, YN," Chris smiled at you.

"How do you know, for a 'fact'that I loved him?" you asked, half-smiling, half-curious.

"Because of all the love you poured into those gifts you sent..." he smirked.

"Gifts?" you asked, confused.

Chris nervously scratched his head, realizing he may have said more than he intended. You raised an eyebrow, and that’s when it clicked.

"Don’t tell me..." you gasped.

"Promise me you won’t be mad, YN?" Chris smiled sheepishly.

You gave him a stern look as he got up and pulled a cardboard box from the cupboard. Inside were neatly wrapped packages with handmade bows, festive papers, and labels that read: "To Chris, Merry Christmas Love, YN."

You stared at him, stunned. "Chris Bang! Why?" you glared at him. "You promised me you wouldn’t be mad!" he nervously chuckled.

"How can I not be mad when you’re literally stealing my ex’s gifts?" you protested. "For the past three years, you’ve been stealing them, and you didn’t even think to check if they were yours or not!"

He just silently stared at you, nonchalantly, as if this was the most normal thing in the world. His boyish grin didn’t help either. In fact, it made this bizarre turn even harder to comprehend.

"Let me get this straight," you said, holding onto the edge of the couch to steady yourself as you leaned back. "You’re telling me that for the past three years, you’ve been getting the Christmas presents I meant to send to my ex? And instead of, I don’t know, returning them, you just... kept them?"

Chris rubbed the back of his neck, his expression somewhere between amused and sheepish. "I mean, technically, yeah. But in my defense, your handwriting on the shipping label was pretty bad. It just said ‘Chris,’ no last name, and my address."

Your mouth hung open. "Now you’re blaming my handwriting for this?"

"Not entirely," he admitted, his grin widening. "I figured it out eventually, probably by the second gift. But by then... well, I didn’t have the heart to send them back. Plus, they were really thoughtful gifts. And I thought, hey, maybe the universe just wanted me to have them."

You gaped at him, caught between disbelief and reluctant amusement. "The universe wanted you to have my ex’s gifts?"

"Okay, when you put it like that, it sounds pretty creepy," he laughed lightly. "But come on....who wouldn’t keep the presents? It’s Christmas!"

"Unbelievable," you scoffed. "Maybe this is the reason Chris Han broke up with me... He didn’t get my special handmade gifts, thanks to a certain gift thief..."

Chris laughed, clearly enjoying your reaction. "Hey, don’t be too mad. You kind of made my Christmases a lot less lonely. I mean, who wouldn’t love surprise presents from a stranger? It’s like I had a secret admirer."

"I wasn’t your admirer, Chris," you snapped back, your face flushed with embarrassment.

"Well, technically, you were, even if you didn’t intend to," he chuckled. "But seriously, thank you for the gifts every year, YN. The handmade cookies, the blue scarf, the mugs, and that beautiful coat you sent really made me feel at home. I wore them all winter and used the mug every day."

"Don’t tell me you read the letters too..." you groaned, burying your face in your hands.

"I did, YN," he said softly. "And they just gave me a sense of fulfillment, a sense of not being alone... like someone was with me."

"Thank you for making my Christmases unintentionally," he added with a huge grin, his eyes shining. A smile so sincere it made your stomach do flips, and your cheeks turn a shade of red you couldn’t explain. What was happening to you? It was too early to be swooning over a guy you just met. Or maybe it was because his hand brushed against you for a second?

"And even if you think that gifting those things to Chris Han would’ve made things better," Chris continued, looking at you seriously, "I believe you’ve got a lot to learn before dating guys who cheat behind your back."

"Backstabbers will always be the same, YN. Even if you think they’ve changed, they won’t."

At his sincere confession, you looked at him, realizing he was right. Chris Han was an utter POS.

You laughed, genuinely, and even surprised yourself. "Oh, and I suppose you think you set the bar higher?"

He grinned, leaning back and resting his arm on the back of the couch. "I mean, I’ve been told I’m a decent neighbor."

You rolled your eyes. "Yep, a decent neighbor who steals other people’s gifts” you smirk

"Flattery won't save you, you know..." you laughed, your voice light but teasing.

"Wasn't trying to save myself either," he replied, leaning back casually against the couch with a carefree smile. "Just telling the truth."

You busied yourself nibbling on another cookie, pretending to focus on the snack while trying to ignore the warmth spreading across your cheeks. "Okay, Chris," you said, your lips quirking into a small but genuine smile, the playful banter making you feel oddly at ease.

Suddenly, an idea popped into your head, making your smile widen mischievously. "As an apology, why don't you bake me these delicious cookies and hot chocolate every day until New Year's?" you suggested, raising an eyebrow, your voice playful yet sincere.

"Sounds like a deal, YN," he replied with a grin, his eyes twinkling.

"But before that," you added, a hint of mischief in your voice, "how about you close your eyes for just a couple of seconds?" You could see the flicker of curiosity in his expression, and you couldn't help but smile.

Chris raised an eyebrow. "Now, if you're trying to kidnap or murder me, I can, you know..." you said, throwing a couple of playful air punches in the air as you chuckled, enjoying the light-hearted moment.

"Wasn't tryin' to do that, but thanks for telling me anyway," he laughed, shaking his head, clearly entertained by your antics.

Something soft was placed in your hand, and after a brief moment of waiting, you slowly opened your eyes. To your surprise, there was a small gift bag resting in your palm. You raised an eyebrow, your mind racing with confusion and curiosity.

"You're returning the wrong Chris' gifts?" you asked him, half-joking, half-puzzled.

A smirk curled onto his lips as he leaned forward slightly. "More like giving you one," he replied, his voice filled with a touch of mystery.

Just as you were about to respond, the clock in the room struck twelve with a soft chime, followed by the cheerful cuckoo bird popping out and singing its song. The atmosphere felt like it belonged in a holiday movie, warm and comforting.

"Merry Christmas, YN," Chris grinned at you, his smile wide and sincere.

"Merry Christmas, Chris," you replied with a smile that felt more real than anything you'd said in a while. It was a moment that you wanted to hold onto, even if it was fleeting.

"And what's this?" you asked, nodding toward the gift bag, still trying to figure out the meaning behind it.

"This?" He held it up between his hands, looking down at it with a gentle expression. "This one’s for you."

Your brows furrowed in confusion as you took a closer look at the bag. "For me? Why?" you asked, your voice laced with curiosity.

"I figured out two days ago that you're the one who's been sending me the gifts for the past three years..." He paused for a second, his eyes softening, as though the weight of the moment was sinking in.

"Consider it my way of saying thank you—for three years of accidentally making my Christmases a lot less lonely," he said, his tone sincere but tinged with something that made your heart ache slightly.

"Lonely?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper, the word lingering in the air. This was the second time he had mentioned his loneliness in the conversation, and it made you wonder about the deeper layers of his feelings.

For just a fraction of a second, his smile faltered, and you noticed his gaze shift as if lost in thought. The change was so brief, but you could tell there was something he wasn’t saying.

"Australia is my real home," he said quietly, his voice distant. "And I'm settled in Seoul now for work. I miss my family, my sister, my brother, and my dog, Berry, so much. Christmas is when I miss them the most, but it is what it is..." His words trailed off, and there was an unspoken weight behind them, something raw that he hadn’t fully expressed.

Your chest tightened unexpectedly. There was something in his tone, something guarded, like he didn't want to reveal too much. You didn’t press, giving him the space he needed, and the silence between you both was comforting, almost as if you both understood what the other was feeling.

Wanting to change the subject and give him a bit of relief, you spoke softly, "Okay, let’s see what you’ve got."

He handed over the bag, and as your fingers brushed briefly against his, you ignored the flicker of warmth that spread up your arm. You focused on the bag in your hands, pulling out the tissue paper with careful movements. When you revealed the contents, your breath caught in your throat: it was a beautiful bag in your favorite color - blush pink. The sight of it made your heart skip a beat.

"Chris, how do you know?" you asked in surprise, your voice a mix of awe and wonder.

He shrugged casually, his grin widening. "I may have done some detective work," he said, his eyes gleaming with mischief. "One of your letters mentioned the bag color," he added with a wink. "Thought it might mean something to you..."

You stared at the bag, your fingers gently brushing over the smooth, polished handle. It was a stunning blush pink crossbody bag, perfectly suited for going out to dinner nights or for the holidays. It was exactly the type of bag you’d been admiring for months, and yet, you’d never mentioned it to him.

Of all the gifts you’d sent in the past three years, none had ever felt this thoughtful or this personal. It was as if he truly understood you in a way you hadn't even realized.

"Wow," you murmured, your voice a little breathless. You looked up at him, your smile widening with genuine appreciation. "That’s... actually really beautiful and sweet."

A wide grin spread across his face as he leaned back a little, clearly pleased with your reaction. "Sweet enough to make up for the whole 'stealing your ex’s gifts’ thing?" he asked, his eyes sparkling with teasing amusement.

You laughed, shaking your head in disbelief. "Not even close," you said, a playful smile tugging at your lips. "But it’s a start."

As the night continued, you felt the weight in your chest slowly lighten. You weren't ready to move on yet, but sitting there, sharing cookies and banter with your neighbor Chris, felt like a step in the right direction. The conversation flowed effortlessly from there, transitioning from light teasing to stories about each other’s lives. Chris had a way of making you laugh, even when you felt like crying. By the time you left his apartment, you realized you were looking forward to seeing him again, something you hadn't expected just a few days ago.

------------------------------------------------------

The Next Day

You giggled at his texts, the warmth of his words making you feel unexpectedly lighter.

-----------------------------------------------------

The days following Christmas blurred into a whirlwind of family gatherings, catching up on work, and the bittersweet calm that often followed the holiday rush. Yet amidst the festive cheer and the soft lull of post-holiday routine, there was a lingering ache—the heartbreak Chris Han had left behind. It was a quiet, constant presence, one that refused to be ignored despite your attempts to distract yourself. Happy couples strolling hand in hand, cheerful holiday music playing in every store, and glowing lights in every window served as unwelcome reminders of what you had lost.

But then there was Chris Bang, your accidental neighbor and self-proclaimed Christmas gift stealer. Against all odds, he became the unintentional solace you hadn’t realized you needed. He had a knack for showing up at just the right time: bumping into you in the hallway with a witty comment about your landlord’s questionable taste in decorations or surprising you with coffee and cookies when your day felt particularly heavy. "Caffeine and cookies cure everything," he’d say with that mischievous grin that never failed to draw a reluctant smile from you.

One day, when you were especially weighed down by the sight of happy couples and the ache in your chest seemed heavier than ever, Chris knocked on your door, insisting you come with him to the fair. At first, you refused, wrapped in your own melancholy, but his persistence wore you down. And so, hours later, you found yourself laughing in the crisp winter air, your hands full of hot cocoa as Chris tried, and failed,repeatedly to win you a plush teddy bear from a claw machine. You teased him mercilessly for his lack of skill, and his mock frustration only made you laugh harder. The ache in your chest lightened, and for the first time in days, you felt like yourself again.

He never left your side, even as work got busier and the New Year dawned. Whether it was a simple message, a casual phone call, or a surprise invitation to take a walk in the park when the sun came out, he made sure to check in, offering little moments of comfort when you needed it most.

With time, you learned more about the man who had unexpectedly found his way into your life. He told you about growing up in Australia, how Seoul had never been part of his plan until his online friends Jisung and Changbin lured him here with the promise of his dream job as a music producer, so he moved across the world. How he had an impressive art collection from his best friend Hyunjin, an artist he was incredibly proud of, and how he’d used the holidays to stay in and unwind from a stressful year. He’d been surprisingly open, sharing details of his life that he usually kept close to his chest.

For your part, you had shared a lot with Chris, your work, your best friends (who were instantly curious about him), and how your parents had been gently pushing you to settle down, despite the fact that you were struggling to imagine your life on anyone else’s timeline. You were beginning to realize how much you enjoyed these quiet, meaningful conversations with him, especially considering how effortlessly everything seemed to flow. Even the things you thought might make you feel vulnerable, you found yourself talking about with surprising ease.

Chris, in turn, had opened up more about his family life. He talked about the playful dynamic he shared with his sister, how they loved to tease each other and how he cherished the annual trips back home to visit. He shared stories about his dog, Berry, whom he missed dearly. There were other little details too, how much he had been adapting to life in Seoul and the adjustment from his home in Australia. Each time he shared something new, you found yourself appreciating him more, and the more you learned about him, the deeper your connection seemed to grow.

You shared your hesitations, your dreams, and the small quirks that made you who you were. It felt natural, easy, even the things that had once felt like guarded secrets seemed safe with him.

And Chris listened, truly listened. He never rushed you or offered hollow reassurances. Instead, he met you where you were, matching your vulnerability with his own. Slowly but surely, the cracks in your heart began to mend, and in their place, something new and unexpected began to grow.

Each shared moment, each quiet laugh, and each tender look made you realize just how much Chris had come to mean to you. The heartbreak that had once defined your days began to fade, replaced by the warmth of his presence...

------------------------------------------------------

As December 2024 arrived, you found yourself surprised at how quickly the year had passed. It was as if time had slipped through your fingers, leaving you wondering how the months had gone by in a blur. Despite a rocky beginning to the year, one thing was clear, Chris Bang had been a steady and reassuring presence in your life, his bad jokes, comforting smile, and unassuming nature making 2024 a lot more bearable than 2023. And now, every time he spoke, you found yourself struck by how his voice, that familiar warmth, could make your heart flutter in a way you hadn’t expected. His smile, his presence,it was beginning to feel like something more than just a friendship, something you weren’t sure how to define yet.

So, when Chris invited you over for his Christmas Eve gathering, you decided to go all in. You wanted to make this night special, just as much for him as for you. You crocheted him a sweater, carefully stitching his initials into the fabric. You baked cookies, filling your kitchen with their delicious scent, and chose a red dress that made you feel both confident and beautiful. As the evening approached, your nerves kicked in, the anticipation of seeing him making your heart race.

When you finally arrived at his door, you knocked lightly, trying to calm the fluttering feeling in your chest. The door opened quickly, and to your surprise, it wasn’t Chris standing there. Instead, it was his friend Han Jisung, whom you’d met briefly a few months ago. His bright smile was instantly familiar, putting you at ease.

"Hey, YN!" Jisung greeted warmly. "Come on in!" he added, stepping aside to let you enter. You walked inside, immediately feeling the cozy Christmas atmosphere. The living room was stunning, with a large tree in the center, its lights twinkling softly against the backdrop of garlands and ornaments. It felt so festive, and for a moment, you forgot about the nerves that had plagued you moments ago.

Chris and his friends were in the middle of a lively conversation when you stepped into the room. But the moment Chris saw you, everything else seemed to fade away. He froze for just a moment, mid-sentence, his eyes wide as they locked onto you. The effect you had on him was immediate, and you couldn’t help but feel a rush of warmth in your chest.

You were standing there in your red gown, your hair styled in soft beachy waves that cascaded down to your shoulders. The sight of him standing there, visibly taken aback, made your cheeks flush with warmth. You couldn't help but smile shyly, and when you caught his gaze, his expression softened, his lips parting as if searching for words.

"Hyung!" someone called out, a playful voice that broke the moment. You turned to see a big, muscular guy, probably Changbin, giving Chris a teasing look. "A fly will enter if you don’t close your mouth."

Chris's face immediately turned a shade of red that matched your dress, and he shot a mock glare at Changbin. The others burst into laughter, but Chris quickly composed himself, a sheepish grin replacing his flustered look. "Welcome, YN," he said, his voice warm and inviting. He gestured for you to sit next to him on the couch, his eyes still lingering on you with a mixture of admiration and affection.

You nodded shyly and walked over to the couch, your heart racing as you sat beside him. But as soon as you did, the teasing began. The others couldn't resist. "Ooooooh!" they shouted in unison, their voices full of playful mischief.

You and Chris both erupted into giggles, trying to stifle your laughter. It was clear that no matter how much you both tried to pretend otherwise, the chemistry between you was undeniable. As the teasing continued, you both found comfort in the easy banter, laughing together until the weight of everything else seemed to disappear.

The night unfolded like a beautiful dream, with the flickering lights of the Christmas tree casting a soft glow over the cozy room. Laughter echoed through the space, mixing with the gentle hum of conversations and the clink of glasses. You were surrounded by the warmth of good friends, but there was something about the way Chris's presence seemed to fill every corner of the room, making everything feel just a little brighter. Of course, his ever-present humor kept the atmosphere light, and his jokes, though admittedly cheesy, had everyone laughing, including you.

"Do you know this man right here is a Christmas gift stealer?" you said, pointing toward Chris with a playful grin, recounting the story of how you met him to the group.

"No way!" Hyunjin exclaimed, his eyes wide with surprise as he absorbed the details of the story.

“We thought you were the new neighbor, and that’s how he met you,” Changbin added with a teasing tone, looking at Chris as if he’d just discovered some hidden truth about him.

“I had better expectations of you, man,” Jisung laughed. “But you’re no different than the rest of us.”

Chris sighed dramatically, playing along with the teasing. “Hey, in my defense,” he said, lifting his hands in mock surrender. “How was I supposed to know that gift wasn’t meant for me? It said ‘Dear Chris, love YN’ with my address on it. I thought the universe had decided to bless me with early Christmas gifts.”

The entire room erupted in laughter, some of the guys doubled over, clutching their stomachs. Chris sat back in his chair, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck, his dimples making an appearance as his signature smile spread across his face.

“You guys act like I planned it,” Chris protested, though his playful tone made it clear he was enjoying the moment. “It’s not my fault the universe decided to shower me with gifts every Christmas.”

“Free gifts?” you raised an eyebrow, not letting him off the hook that easily. “You’re lucky I didn’t press charges for theft, Christopher Bang!”

The room burst into another wave of laughter, the sound so infectious it had you all grinning ear to ear. Chris shook his head, chuckling. “Alright, alright,” he said, holding up his hands in a gesture of defeat. “But those gifts were too nice to ignore. I figured I must have been extra good that year.”

Hyunjin leaned forward, a playful glint in his eyes. “Or maybe someone was really in love with you and you didn’t even know it.”

Chris’s cheeks immediately turned a shade of pink, and he hastily averted his gaze to the floor, mumbling something incoherent. The group caught on to his sudden shyness and burst out with a loud, collective “Ooooooh!”

“Wait a second,” Jisung interjected with a raised eyebrow, now eyeing Chris in mock disbelief. “So you’ve been using scarves, mugs, and all those gifts knowing full well they weren’t even yours?”

Chris’s grin widened mischievously. “Hey, they came with my name on them. Technically, they were mine.”

Changbin leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, looking at Chris as if he were a detective revealing a crucial piece of evidence. “You’re lucky YN didn’t track you down sooner. This could have turned into one of those true crime documentaries where the victim is the ‘mystery gift giver.’”

You shook your head, chuckling softly at the thought. “Trust me, I almost did. But now, I’m starting to think the universe had its reasons.”

For a moment, the laughter died down, and the room grew quieter as your eyes met Chris’s. There was something in his gaze, something softer than the playful teasing that had filled the air just moments before. The noise of the room seemed to fade, and all you could hear was the rhythmic beat of your own heart. His smile remained, but there was a depth to it now, a quiet understanding that seemed to bridge the gap between you. It felt like the world was holding its breath as you shared a moment that was just for the two of you.

As the clock inched closer to midnight, the lively chatter in the room began to fade, replaced by the soft hum of smaller conversations and the gentle melodies of Christmas tunes playing in the background. The festive atmosphere lingered, cozy and comforting, as the glow of the Christmas tree bathed the room in warm, golden light.

You found yourself nestled beside Chris on the couch, a glass of wine cradled in your hand. He seemed relaxed, his attention caught by a show playing softly on the TV. But your focus was elsewhere, on the small, carefully wrapped package resting in your lap.

Gathering your courage, you turned to him and gently nudged his arm. "Here," you said, offering him the gift with a shy smile.

Chris’s eyes sparkled with curiosity as he looked down at the neatly wrapped present in your hands. "For me?" he asked, raising an eyebrow, a playful smirk tugging at his lips. "Or did you forget the right address again?"

You laughed, rolling your eyes at his teasing. “Shut up and open it!”

As the paper fell away, his face lit up with genuine delight. Nestled inside was a periwinkle sweater, his initials lovingly stitched into the fabric, alongside a neatly arranged box of homemade cookies. His grin widened as he looked between the gift and you, his eyes sparkling with warmth.

"You made this?" he asked, his voice soft with wonder.

You nodded, biting your lip nervously. "I did. Took me a while, but... I wanted it to be special."

Chris held up the sweater, admiring the intricate detail, before carefully setting it aside along with the cookies. His gaze returned to you, his smile softer now, almost reverent.

Chris carefully set the sweater and cookies aside, his attention fully on you. He leaned in slightly, his voice lowering, as if the room around you had faded away and there was only the two of you left in this quiet, intimate space. “YNnie,” he whispered, the nickname he had given you rolling off his tongue with such warmth that it sent a shiver down your spine, “I don’t think you realize how much you’ve changed my life this past year.”

You blinked, your heart suddenly racing in your chest, caught off guard by the weight of his words. “Me?”

Chris nodded, his hand moving gently to brush a loose strand of hair from your face, his touch tender and almost reverent. “When I met you, I thought it was just some funny coincidence, a mix-up that led to free gifts and good laughs. But you... you turned out to be so much more than that. You’re thoughtful, kind, ridiculously talented, and you've made this year brighter in ways I can’t even put into words. And I’m not just saying that because you bake the best cookies.”

You let out a soft laugh, a tear threatening to spill as his words wrapped around your heart. “You’re just saying that because I made you a sweater,” you teased, trying to deflect the overwhelming emotion building in your chest.

“No,” he said firmly, his eyes never leaving yours, his voice unwavering. “I’m saying it because it’s true.”

The room felt smaller now, the Christmas lights casting their soft glow around you, wrapping you both in a bubble of warmth and intimacy. It was as if time had slowed down, and all that mattered was this moment, the two of you. His hand found yours, gently resting over it, his touch grounding you.

“You’ve made me laugh when I didn’t feel like laughing,” he continued, his voice rich with sincerity. “You’ve reminded me that life doesn’t have to be perfect to be beautiful. And every time I look at you, I’m reminded that maybe, just maybe, the universe finally got it right.”

Your breath hitched in your throat, tears threatening to spill as you absorbed the weight of his words. “Chris…”

Your cheeks burned as you gazed at him, unable to deny the depth of the feelings that had been quietly building between you over the past year. The way he had supported you, respected your space, and been there when you needed him, all without hesitation. How had you never realized before just how much he had changed your life? Maybe, just maybe, he was the one you had been waiting for all along.

When Chris leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a low, intimate murmur, you felt it,the certainty that the so-called mix-up, the mistake that had brought you into each other’s lives, was anything but coincidence. It was fate. A quiet, unspoken connection that had led you here, to this very moment.

Your breath hitched as the distance between you disappeared. Without hesitation, you closed your eyes, surrendering to the magnetic pull of his presence. His lips brushed against yours, featherlight at first,hesitant, almost as if asking for permission. When you didn’t pull away, the kiss deepened, unfolding with a slowness that spoke of intention and meaning. It was tender yet passionate, every movement deliberate, as though he wanted to savor every second.

His hand gently cupped your cheek, the pad of his thumb tracing delicate circles against your skin. The warmth of his touch grounded you, even as your heart threatened to soar. You melted into him, losing yourself in the quiet intimacy of the moment. For that brief, perfect moment, the world outside ceased to exist. Nothing else mattered,only him, only this.

When you finally broke apart, both breathless and overwhelmed, Chris rested his forehead gently against yours, his tender smile radiating warmth. “Merry Christmas, YNnie,” he whispered, his voice low and filled with affection, as though the words were meant for you and you alone.

“Merry Christmas, Chris,” you murmured in return, your voice trembling with emotion. Your heart felt impossibly full, and the heat in your cheeks lingered, a reminder of the moment you’d just shared.

As the world around you softened, wrapped in the glow of twinkling Christmas lights and the quiet hum of holiday melodies, you leaned into the comforting presence beside you. In that stillness, a profound realization settled over you. Sometimes, the most precious gifts in life aren’t the ones you meticulously plan or chase after. They’re the ones that catch you off guard...the ones that find you, that feel like fate wrapping itself around you in the most unexpected, beautiful way.

And tonight, that gift had come wrapped in a heart, a dimpled smile, and a name that had become your favorite sound....

𐙚 ˚Tags - @atinyniki @writingforstraykids @yangbbokari @theo4eve @livelovelaughmiko @silverstarburst @galaxycatdrawz @skzoologist @shua-f4lmings @iknowyouknowminho @krisstheidiot @hyunjinhoexxx @gho-ster @ezlynkisses @elmoslungcancer @b1nn1e-1s-cut3 @seungseung-minmin @cuddlylonelyperson @jeonginsleftcheek @oreoqueen @freekyfangirl

Comment your @ If you wish to be added or removed from this list ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

𐙚 ˚ENDNOTE - Everything Here is a work of fiction and my own imagination. This does not represent the real life characteristics of Stray Kids. Make sure to like, reblog comment, and follow me for new updates!

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plasticfreckles · 1 day ago

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🪶 fade-prison angst rookanis snippet enjoy 🪶

Satisfied, Lucanis drops his rag back into his water pail, carefully rubs the stripped wood dry and turns to place its contents back to the surface. He wipes down the little tiered shelf with all her make-up pots, scratches the fingerprints and oils from the grooves of the intricate designs, takes care to re-arrange them in the same order she had them; shadows on the top tier, oily lip tints in the middle, flaky fragile glitters at the bottom. Her little lidless box of nail colors, he places back in the top right corner, by her standing mirror.

Removing the dust from the velvet that lines her jewelry box is harder. He closes the box to bring it to the kitchen; to soak the metals in rubbing alcohol and wipe the gems clean, to find his fabric brush and work fresh cleaning broth into the velvet. Maybe he'll drip some lavender oil into the folds.

The necklace he finds in her separate dish, the open, lacquered seashell rimmed in gold, makes him pause.

He remembers buying it, the second she'd turned away from the crystal peddler's stand in Treviso, after hearing its price and sighing. For this cheap little thing, tourmaline and aventurine on a chain so frail it seems to break if one but breathes on it wrong, the peddler asked for obscenely much money. Normally, Lucanis would have scoffed and turned away. But Rook had looked at it so longingly he felt he had no choice but to buy it anyway.

They'd barely been commited to each other three days.

Illario had broken the chain easily, grabbing her by the neck of her cloak and flinging her aside with surprising ease and clear intent to murder her and then him. Lucanis' little attention toward her torn apart almost symbolically.

Lucanis remembers telling her he could just get her a new one, remembers her shaking her head. It's the first thing you got for me, she'd said. She'd wrapped it in a torn piece of her shirt and placed it in her seam pocket with more care than he's seen parents handle their babe. I don't want to just replace it. Her hair had shaded her face a little, the sudden glint of her teeth just outside of unsettling. I want to treasure it and pass it on, someday. That cheap little chain that already started to change color and stain her skin, that cost the peddler all of three coppers to make. As though he'd hand-built her a bathhouse from pure gold.

Since then, it had waited, on its dish, in its shell, for the day there was time to go get it repaired.

Lucanis finds himself in that corner of her room, suddenly so impossibly big and cold and empty and suffocating, just as broken as that necklace.

The stool creaks underneath him, smelling of dust and old tapestry. He can feel the nails pricking into his skin, through his clothes. She'd complained about the cushion giving way beneath her before. He'd forgotten to have it repaired.

The energy to clean her room is punched out of him.

He hadn't protected the necklace from breaking. He couldn't save her from being snatched away into the Fade. He can't even tidy her space for her without falling into disrepair himself, it seems.

She thought the world of him, and not only could he not deliver, he failed her miserably. It churns his guts like cold cherry juice on an empty stomach.

Spite looks at him from under the table, awkwardly patting his right foot. Comfort is not a concept he's adept at.

His hands somehow feel small and chubby, the nailbeds rough and stained with blue paint. Lucanis doesn't know why he feels it through his boots.

He curls in on himself, head between his knees and hands pulling his hair.

Spite, for once, doesn't comment on his desperate wails.

🪶

idk if i like it yet, i wrote this on a whim. I have a tummy ache and the documentary my dad watches makes it look like Ramesses II only ever had sweet fluff loml moments :(

but on the bright side, i have a Big Storm planned hint hint [its a multichapter exploration of Fade Prison Angst]

@chubritza wassup

[~rina]

#rookanis #rook x lucanis #lucanis x rook #lucanis dellamorte #lucanis my beloved #spite #spite dragon age #dragon age lucanis #dragon age #dragonage #dragon age the veilguard #rook #rook de riva #de riva rook #rinawrites #rinascreamsaboutbioware #veilguard spoilers #pretty rock hyperfixation #daisy rook

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calimanc · 1 day ago

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POANG Pals Secret Santa 2024 Fic Recs

For my Secret Santa, @unremarkablehouse who loves lighthearted and comfort MSR set during the original run. I have combed through my secret Ao3 bookmarks to give you a fic rec list for the next year. 52 in total, one for each week. They don't all fit the brief exactly, there are touches of angst and UST and more than a few go beyond Requiem. But they are all wonderful stories that I hope very much that you will enjoy. With thanks to @lilydalexf , whose format for fic recs I have used as the gold standard.

For @unremarkablehouse , a fic about life in your namesake.

Title: Home, Home

Author: onpaperfirst @onpaperfirst

Summary: post-the truth, pre-iwtb, weirdo domesticity

where seldom is heard a discouraging word, and the skies are not cloudy all day

Length: 4,699

Classification: MSR

Rating: Not Rated

Spoilers: post original run

Favorite line: He came back with a Charlie Brown Christmas tree, a red and green tree stand in a box, and some candy canes. There were eleven in the package and one in his mouth.

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Leading Conversations

An oldie but goodie that isn’t on Ao3. Does what it says on the tin!

Title: Chess

Author: Cecily_Sass @cecilysass

Summary: Friday night. Mulder and Scully play chess.

Length: 4,300 ish

Classification: UST, MSR

Rating: T

Spoilers:

Favorite line: "Scully," he said. "Are we lovers?"

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A conversation about hypotheticals evolves. Very lovely getting on the same page fic.

Title: A Perfect Storm

Author: ChaneenW

Summary: Inspired by their undercover assignment as a married couple, Mulder tries to find out what Scully wants in a husband.

Length: 3,000

Classification: MSR

Rating: T

Spoilers: Arcadia

Favorite line: “I did think of that, Scully, but she doesn’t seem to like my kindergarten antics much, either—hypothetically speaking, of course.”

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A great fic from Thursday that sees them talking their way towards each other.

Title: in conclusion

Author: thursdayinspace @thursdayinspace

Summary: “What were you thinking about?” she asks

He lets out a small laugh. “I was thinking about…you know. Human connections. What they are and how we define them. And why we need to put them into neat little categories that we specifically make up for them. Don’t you ever just wonder what makes relationships – any kinds of relationships – what they are?”

It's the middle of the night in a freezing cold motel room and they both haven't slept. The best time and place to figure out how relationships work -- theirs in particular.

Length: 3,370

Classification: MSR

Rating: T

Spoilers:

Favorite line: “You want to have an ontological discussion about romantic relationships at almost 1 a.m. in a freezing cold motel room after we both haven’t slept for a week?”

“Yes.”

"Any chance I can talk you out of it?"

"How long have we known each other?"

"I withdraw the question." She lets out a long breath.

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A much more recent conversation from Cecily, talking themselves into getting there.

Title: Negotiation

Author: cecily_sass @cecilysass

Summary: “You know, I hear they’re more than just partners,” Mulder offers in a conversational tone.

“Who?”

“Gillis and Perez,” Mulder says, cracking open a sunflower seed, gesturing out the front windshield. “That’s the water cooler gossip, anyway.”

Surprising conversation waiting in a car.

Length: 1,894

Classification: MSR

Rating: NR

Spoilers:

Favorite line: She lifts her head, and there are indeed tears pooling in the corners of her clear blue eyes. “Don’t you know me at all? Haven’t you been paying any attention?”

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Really lovely fic imagining that Scully’s reeling off of “magic” terms on the phone in Chinga was actually her quoting from a published article of Mulder’s.

Title: Upon the Yearly Renewal of JSTOR Accounts

Author: viridianvelvet

Summary: Mulder knows what it means to memorize someone's work. Post-Chinga.

Length: 1,184 words

Classification: MSR

Rating: G

Spoilers: post Chinga

Favorite line: If anyone deserves to hear the words aloud, it is Fox Mulder. Mulder, whose sharp edges ought to exist, but which have been burnished by the sheer, utter regard he has for all that is Good and Right in the world.

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Sweet fluffy fic, Scully gets hurt and Mulder gets hit by just how much he loves her.

Title: A Minor Inconvenience

Author: spooky_nerd @spooky-nerd

Summary: In which Scully gets hurt on the job and Mulder loses what's left of his sanity, probably.

Length: 2,045 words

Classification: MSR, hurt/comfort

Rating: G

Spoilers: none

Favorite line: "If this causes any temporary memory lapses, I apologize in advance," she says. Last month she'd forgotten his birthday and, unrelated, the fact that he did not like sausage on his pizza. That realization had come once she'd fully recovered, and she'd made it up to him by taking him to a viewing of 'The Thing' at a small art house theater and treating him to a 16-inch, sausage-free pizza afterwards.

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Post-ep First Times

A very sweet, soft post Pilot first time fic.

Title: Lost Together

Author: MarjorieWilliams

Summary: Scully and Mulder come together after Bellefleur, lost but not alone.

Length: 1,803

Classification: MSR

Rating: M

Spoilers: Pilot

Favorite line: She turned her hand in his, and their fingers laced together like pieces of a precision-made puzzle.

He stood, tugging her with him, and guided her to his bed.

---------------------------------

Hoo boy. Extremely hot Ice replacement for the inspection scene.

Title: what does it take (to get you off)

Author: coppersunlight @mulderno

Summary: Anyone else would likely regard her resulting gasp as nothing more than an expression of surprise, but this is Fox Mulder—star profiler, and prodigious interpreter of all things Scully.

“You liked that?” he asks quietly, dangerously—a skilled observation disguised in the tone of a question.

Inspired by the question, "How does Scully feel when he bends down like that to get directly in her face" during the supply closet scene in Ice, and by Scully's highly incriminating gasp in Never Again.

Length: 3,353

Classification: MSR, first time

Rating: E

Spoilers: Ice

Favorite line: He nibbles at the lobe of her ear. “You like this,” he repeats, his tone cocksure, definitive, fascinated.

---------------------------------

I’ve got this bookmarked as a great post The End first time with Gibson being a little chaos agent.

Title: Enders Switch

Author: gypsymuse

Summary: What do you do when everything you are lies in ashes at your feet? Post-ep for The End (5X20).

Length: 14,046

Classification: MSR, adventure

Rating: M

Spoilers: The End

Favorite line: He drove easily, left hand on the wheel, right hand fiddling with the radio, a soda bottle, my knee. Still rumpled from our abortive romp, his hair was spiky, his shirt wrinkled, in all resembling the unmade bed we left behind. Nothing and no one has ever looked better to me. My feeling for him was so enormous I wondered that I could contain it.

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Hot off the presses, an absolutely lovely post-ep first time for How the Ghosts Stole Christmas. Roz blesses us with fic as well as art!

Title: O Holy Night

Author: rosenkranz_isnt_dead @rosenkranz-isnt-dead

Summary: When Mulder decided to go ghost hunting, being insulted by said ghosts was not what he had in mind. But they were right, he had dragged her into a haunted house with him, and he had stolen her car keys. Instead of spreading holiday cheer, she nearly died because of him. Again.

Length: 3,075

Classification: MSR

Rating: M

Spoilers: How the Ghosts Stole Christmas

Favorite line: Scully, he thinks, all coherent thoughts abandoning him except for her dear, familiar name. Scully.

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First time fic post Monday. Beautiful day by day build up until he finally kisses her and the dam breaks.

Title: The Next Week

Author: SlippinMickeys @slippinmickeys

Summary: She’s placid in his bed. Warm, willing. She has a sleepy smile on her face and the morning sunlight coming through the window catches on her carmine hair, practically burns his eyes.

Length: 2,962

Classification: MSR

Rating: E

Spoilers: post-Monday, pre-Arcadia

Favorite line: “I…” He starts, but how do you tell your partner of almost 7 years that that you’re insanely in love with them and have been since almost day one and would they mind terribly if you fucked their brains out because that’s all you want to do whenever they’re within a foot of you?

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Post Milagro first time fic, he takes care of her and she lets him.

Title: Hearts Entwined

Author: Donna

Summary: In response to a challenge

Length: 3,429

Classification: MSR

Rating: E

Spoilers: Milagro

Favorite line: "Shh. Just lean on me." He stepped into the shower wearing only his boxers and let the warm water envelop them. She rested her head on his chest and made no protest.

---------------------------------

She counts their kisses and it leads to their first time in this absolutely lovely post Millenium fic from Sagan_Starstuff.

Title: Counting

Author: sagan_starstuff @sagan-starstuff

Summary: What happens when Mulder and Scully leave the hospital after New Years 2000?

Length: 7,338

Classification: MSR

Rating: E

Spoilers: Millenium

Favorite line: Sometimes he's so obtuse she wants to shake him. “I love you. Don’t tell me I don’t need to say it - I get to decide that, and you , Mulder, deserve to hear it. You deserve love.”

---------------------------------

Beautiful first time all things, acknowledging the depth of want and feeling as well as the inherent complications in their relationship.

Title: Stay

Author: Samantha1013

Summary: Mulder and Scully's first time together, from Scully's POV. Takes place between the closing and opening scenes of all things.

Length: 2,573

Classification: MSR, first time

Rating: E

Spoilers: all things

Favorite line: “Is this going to work?” He asked halting, brow furrowing.

It took her a second to comprehend. She responded flatly “Yes Mulder, the vagina is one of the most malleable and fastest healing organs in the body, second only to the tongue and cornea.”

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First Time Somewhere in Time

When I first read Regular People, I didn’t know there was a sequel and I was distraught. There’s something very quiet and beautiful here, when they have the space to breathe.

Title: Regular People and Regular People Still

Author: Chimerical1975

Summary: Thwarted Christmas plans, impulsive decisions, and unexpected visitors make two extraordinary FBI agents into regular people.Set in December, 1998. For the purposes of this story, HTGSC didn't happen.

The sequel to the story started in Regular People. We're back in 1998 where Mulder and Scully are continuing their sojourn. This leads to issues and discoveries large and small, lots of sex, some laughter, some sadness, and a touch of urgency as they are fast running out of time to be regular people.

Length: 16,724 and 36,760

Classification: MSR

Rating: M

Spoilers:

Favorite line: "I did get to go home to my family for Christmas, Mulder," she whispered.

"Scully--" Mulder started, but then he just settled on a single word as he nodded. "Yes."

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Scully comes over after painting her mom’s study and Mulder tells her she’s beautiful. Diz knows what she’s doing.

Title: She Tastes Like Candlelight

Author: mizdiz @xf-cases-solved

Summary: Mulder isn’t sure when exactly he fell in love with Scully.

It’s possible that there wasn’t a specific moment at all. Maybe the transition from friendship was so smooth that one day he just woke up and realized he’d been looking at Scully the same way he looked at the night sky—like an intricately tangled mystery, full of beauty and questions and Truths, of which he may never know the extent of. Somewhere along the way, she had become his greatest X-File.l

Length: 8,596

Classification: MSR

Rating: E

Spoilers: post Millenium

Favorite line: Scully smiles slyly, leaning in even closer to Mulder now, and says, “so I’m hot now? I thought I was beautiful.”

“Please,” says Mulder, surprised by how low his voice registers. “You’re the smart one, you should know that the two aren’t mutually exclusive.”

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Mulder has to go to three therapy sessions and it ends up pushing him into truly communicating with Scully.

Title: Normal Conversations

Author: Soronia

Summary: It always bothered me that Mulder had a degree in psychology but only seemed to use it on other people. Also I know it was the 90s, but everybody in this show needed a minimum 400 years of therapy. And yes, there’s eventually sex.

Length: 10,785

Classification: MSR

Rating: E

Spoilers:

Favorite line: Her face was always so transparent, and he watched it fill then with an emotion he couldn’t place at first. Not contempt, or hesitation. Her whole expression filled up with glory.

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Cute first time after they've been undercover and Scully is used to holding hands so she grabs his hand in a meeting which leads to hot first time sex later that night.

Title: Record Scratch

Author: Skinfull

Summary: After spending a month undercover posing as a married couple on a farm in Iowa, Scully is struggling to get back into the non married view of her relationship with Mulder.

Length: 12,156

Classification: MSR, first time

Rating: E

Spoilers:

Favorite line: I do the only thing a self respecting modern day woman who is desperately in love with her best friend would do. I ignore it completely.

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I love this writer, she delivers on very hot smut with lots of lovely happy feelings. This was the first of hers I read, I hope you like it as much as I do.

Title: I’m on Fire

Author: Spark_a_Flame1013

Summary: A casual night out turns into everything.

Length: 5,754

Classification: MSR

Rating: E

Spoilers:

Favorite line: “Agent Scully?”

They both turned and there stood an agent from white collar crimes. Agent Jones? Johnson? Jordan? Mulder couldn’t remember but figured it would be in the police report after he broke the guy’s jaw for probably destroying the moment. All the man said, though, was “Don’t forget your bag.” He nodded to the table where Scully's purse and suit jacket still sat. She went to get them, leaving Mulder and Agent J-something alone.

They stared at each other for a moment, and then Agent J said, mildly, “You lucky fucking bastard.”

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Emily But Not Tragic

One of the author’s tags is “speedrunning two whole seasons of mulder character development as one does” so there you have it.

Title: the driver’s side door and other affairs of the heart

Author: cabbagesandqueens @benoitblanc

Summary: There is no casket full of sand, and Mulder gets out of the car.

Length: 2,970

Classification: MSR

Rating: G

Spoilers: Emily

Favorite line: The X-Files, his X-Files, have always been about lost little girls and the people they leave behind.

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Oh so sweet scenes of Emily in their lives. Read when you need to fill your heart with some joy.

Title: close to knowing

Author: o666666 @o6666666

Summary: Vignettes about Mulder and Emily, and Mulder and Scully, in (mostly) nonchronological order.

Length: 8,831

Classification: MSR

Rating: T

Spoilers: Emily AU, Kitsunegari

Favorite line: As they return to the car, Scully watches a toddler girl across the street trip on the pavement. The baby cries, and her father picks her up.

“Mulder, pick me up,” Emily asks, having followed Scully’s gaze. “Pick me up, please?”

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William, At Home

This was from Fictober this year. Four separate stories, all of them lovely. She hooked me with the first one. For when you need warm fuzzies.

Title: “That was good work.”

Author: Sammie1million @youreneverjustanythingtomescully

Summary: Fictober 2024

Length: 3,352

Classification: MSR

Rating: G

Spoilers: William Scully, post series kid

Favorite line: Mulder handed her the plastic submarine. "Want to help me find Nessie?" he teased, and Scully couldn't resist the playful invitation. She dipped the yellow sub into the water, watching it dive and resurface with a grin. William's eyes followed it intently, his laughter echoing off the tiles.

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I cannot express to you just how beautiful I find this fic. This is their family, the way it might have been.

Title: like real people do

Author: chasingfictions @chasingfictions

Summary: in which mulder is a stay at home dad, and scully is getting used to the idea that they’re allowed to be this in love.

“You know, you could run out and get diaper cream too, Mulder.”

“Ah, no can-do, Scully. We’re deep in blanket fort construction over here. And the boss is real uncompromising on the schedule. If I don’t get us to story time under a fuzzy blanket soon, my head’s on the chopping block.”

Length: 4,347

Classification: MSR

Rating: T

Spoilers: Season 9 AU where they keep William

Favorite line: But then she remembers that they are in their bed, in their home, that their son has woken up in the other room, but they can hear through the baby monitor isn’t crying yet, is only gurgling, cooing softly, she remembers that he is touching her, holding her, that he was gone and he was dead and now he is alive and warm in her bed, that he will never leave her bed again, she won’t let him. She remembers, from the way he is kissing her now, warm and hungry and loving her, his mouth on her neck, her clavicle, her shoulders, her mouth, that this is theirs. That he is hers.

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On the Run

I’ve got it bookmarked as “an absolute stunner.” Just a beautiful look at a period of their time on the run.

Title: A Cabin In The Woods

Author: leiascully @leiascully

Summary: Mulder and Scully, on the run, stay for a while in a cabin in the mountains in Montana. A series of interlacing vignettes.

Length: 13,768

Classification: MSR, domestic fluff

Rating: T

Spoilers: post original series, on the run

Favorite line: When they wake and dress and stretch to the extent the tent allows, frowsy with sleep and disheveled and staticky, she looks at him and feels a pang of pure, unadulterated happiness, the joy that cuts like a knife. After everything, she can still be happy, if mostly in moments like sudden beams of light on a cloudy day, Jacob’s ladders set against a backdrop of storms.

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Wonderful old school series where they get William back and are able to rebuild a life together as a family while fighting the future. A real comfort read for me.

Title: Ghosts series

Author: Anjou

Summary: An early December 2002 tale, originally supposed to be a drabble, totally spun out of control. A post-series 'what if' where Mulder was irrevocably altered, replicants were the new reality, and the clock was ticking down to 2012.

Length: 33,710 words over three works in the series

Classification: MSR, character death (not our main family, but there are ghosts)

Rating: G, T, M

Spoilers: Post original run

Favorite line: Mulder could feel the love pouring out of him in waves and knew he was barraging William with too much emotion, but couldn't seem to pull it back; he had never consciously acknowledged how much he wanted this, to be a family with Scully and their child. Now that he was actually confronted with what he had long hoped for, he was overcome.

"Oh," William said. He giggled, as if Mulder had tickled him. "Hi," he said to Mulder.

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Reunion sex that matches the wallsex gifs

Title: shaking all over

Author: kittenscully

Summary: Below her chin, the expanse of his skin is warm in the growing light. He is bedding down in her, his leg shifting to cover hers, and she knows that he could sleep, now, for awhile. But there is so much of him, heavy and beautiful and unmarked, and it’s been so long, and she doesn’t want to let him drift away.

Length: 2,222

Classification: MSR

Rating: E

Spoilers: post The Truth

Favorite line: Tugging his head to the side, Scully latches onto his neck, thick tendons and the beat of his pulse. He groans, surprised. Before, he’d never liked pain, hissing even at the drag of her nails down his back. But they have both changed, and as she nips at him, his cock twitches against her leg.

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Original Run (and Beyond)

Charming pair of stories from the POV of Mulder’s neighbours who get extremely invested in the relationship between “agent Smolder” and “Sally” over the years. It’s a lot of fun.

Title: Kevin & Devin series

Author: admiralty and DanaScullyMakesMeFeelAutopsyTurvy @admiralty-xfd, @scullymakesmefeelautopsyturvy

Summary: *There was something going on between these two, or else there was something not going on, when there clearly ought to be.*

There’s never a dull moment when your neighbor is Special Agent Fox Mulder.

Length: 48,789 words over two works

Classification: MSR, humour, original characters

Rating: T, G

Spoilers: Follows along with the original run

Favorite line: Devin leaned his ear against the wall in a brazen absence of shame.

Kevin took another surreptitious glance behind him. “Devin,” he said. “That is such an invasion of-”

“I can hear them.” Devin interrupted.

Kevin’s ear was against the wall almost before Devin had finished his sentence.

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This is such a gem of a fic, wtfmulder has tagged it as “crack but kind of not” and as goofy as it sounds (they are literally looking for a big bird) it is beautiful and dreamlike and everything good. The sunglasses are a thing throughout and I just love it.

Title: big bird

Author: wtfmulder @wtfmulder

Summary: Our duo are on a journey to see a huge fucking bird. Drabble series.

Length: 11,468

Classification: early MSR, UST, casefile

Rating: G

Spoilers: season 2, post abduction arc

Favorite line: The sun touches Scully’s hair and the effect is magnificent. But it also touches her eyeballs, because Mulder is still wearing the sunglasses.

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This is just so much fun. I had the best time reading this fic. It’s season 1 so it’s not MSR as such but there is vulnerability and care.

Title: vulpes mulder

Author: eggschiptune @eggschiptune

Summary: Mulder and Scully set out to attend a conference in Oregon: simple, easy, and a chance to get away for a weekend on the FBI'S dime. Mulder has other ideas-and Scully winds up with those complicated feelings about her father resurfacing, a woman who swears she was transformed by God into a German Shepard, and a little red fox following her around with its nose in a bag of sunflower seeds.

Length: 32,630

Classification: casefile

Rating: G

Spoilers: season 1, post Beyond the Sea

Favorite line: “I don’t think I need to tell you this, but you’re a little shit. What were you thinking?”

Significantly less gentle than she could have been, Scully set the fox on Mulder’s desk. He scratched his head idly with a black foot.

“You bit the assistant director.”

The fox rolled his eyes and made a very small biting motion with his front teeth.

“What do you want me to say? You nipped the assistant director? Like that’s better?”

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This isn’t straightforward MSR, it’s a post-ep for Paper Hearts that sees Scully reflecting but for me it’s there between the lines. Just like the show. It might sting a bit but it’s beautiful and worth it.

Title: Paper Thin

Author: saintscully @therealsaintscully

Summary: She doesn’t know which scares her more: that he’ll never find the answer, or that he might.

Length: 5,167

Classification: character study, loneliness

Rating: G

Spoilers: Post Paper Hearts

Favorite line: Gone for reasons as natural as they are cruel—another casualty of a world that shows no mercy to little girls and offers no answers to those who love them.

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Short but packs a punch. They’re thick as thieves, up to shenanigans.

Title: hall of mirrors

Author: seek_its_opposite @seek-its-opposite

Summary: “Come on, Scully. Who doesn’t want to be Tom Sawyer at his own funeral?” (early season 4)

Length: 956

Classification: UST, Fluff

Rating: G

Spoilers: set in early season 4

Favorite line: Scully puts her finger to her lips and continues, “His ego is so visible I can almost watch it grow.”

Mulder feigns being shot through the heart.

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Don’t be put off by Diana! Anika makes sure everything is as it should be. I absolutely adore the detail about not wanting Mulder to be cold after their experience in Antarctica.

Title: Making Progress

Author: Baroness_Blixen @baronessblixen

Summary: Takes place during "Arcadia": Scully gets up one night to give Mulder a blanket and she catches Mulder talking to Fowley.

Length: 1,080

Classification: Fluff with a whiff of angst

Rating: G

Spoilers: Arcadia

Favorite line: He took a pillow with him, but he forgot the blanket. Whether he did it deliberately, or simply didn’t think of it, she doesn’t question. No matter how irritated she may be with him, she doesn’t want him to be cold. Even now, so many months later, she sleeps with more than one blanket herself. The fear of cold now ingrained in her bones. She doesn’t know how Mulder feels about it; one of the million things they haven’t talked about after Antarctica. She doubts they ever will. But she knows she can’t let him shiver and freeze down there on the couch, no matter what.

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Absolute married behaviour here. And a love confession. And a thwarted first kiss.

Title: Laughing Gas

Author: thatfragilecapricorn @thatfragilecapricorn30

Summary: Mulder gets dental surgery.

Length: 1,306

Classification: Humor, fluff

Rating: G

Spoilers: none

Favorite line: Mulder appeared deep in thought and then exclaimed, “The most beautiful president America has ever elected!”

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Really lovely. Five ways Triangle could have ended. The last one takes us back through FTF and sends them through Australia which gives them time to deal with the hallway.

Title: The Congruence of Triangles

Author: LibbyT @libbytxf

Summary: The final scene of Triangle, told five ways.

"It is at this moment, the moment of having felt the truth and the succor of her belief in him, that he realizes he is in love with her. He has felt every constituent part of this feeling before, the friendship, the attraction, the excitement, the certainty, the desperation, the almost irresistible urge to kiss her, but never all at once. It coalesces in a sharp and sudden realization, the obviousness of which is almost insulting to him, in a certain light. How has he never managed to articulate it to himself in this way? How has he resisted this so long?"

Length: 5,373

Classification: MSR

Rating: G

Spoilers: Triangle, FTF

Favorite line: A new nurse is on duty. “Are you family?” she asks.

“I’m his partner”, says Scully, nodding, wilfully participating in a campaign of misinformation. She does not feel the lie in it.

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Mulder gets trapped with Scully and Diana and realises he’s able to read their minds.

Title: Dissonance

Author: suilven @suilven19

Summary: Canon divergence during Biogenesis. Mulder and Scully find themselves in an elevator with none other than Diana Fowley just as Mulder's burgeoning abilities begin to manifest.

Length: 4,471

Classification: UST, jealousy

Rating: T

Spoilers: Biogenesis

Favorite line: It was simply the whispered thought of his name, but he was very sure she’d never said it aloud quite like that before. The warmth radiating from her as she squeezed his fingers back made his heart stutter in his chest. Sure, he’d been a little loopy from the drugs they’d given him when he’d stupidly blurted out that he loved her, but damn if he didn’t feel the same way in that moment as Scully appeared to be feeling right now.

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I love this one. Mulder gets drugged and there’s an axe and he feeds her a banana.

Title: instinct

Author: light_loves_the_dark @queeenpersephone

Summary: “Move,” Mulder orders, his voice low and gravelly, wrapping a large hand around Scully's bicep and pulling her aside.

She struggles against him, mentally reviewing the profile, desperate to think of a way to stop this. The other victims hadn’t been violent for violence’s sake. Reduced to their basic instincts, they had fallen back to protect what they had considered theirs.

She needs to get Mulder out. And as much as she hates appearing weak, she knows exactly how to do it. She knows exactly what Mulder considers his.

aka the one where mulder is drugged and reduced to his basic instincts, and no one needs three guesses to figure out who those instincts get directed towards

Length: 15,401

Classification: MSR

Rating: T

Spoilers:

Favorite line: She exhales, trying to give him a shaky smile, when he steps into her body and presses his mouth against her temple. Her hands reflexively clutch at his shirt. He breathes in, wet and close and primitive; he’s not kissing her skin, but the open mouthed press of his lips is almost more intimate. He inhales once more, slow and deliberate and long, his free hand coming up to cup the back of her neck. His hand is large enough to cover her skin from her first thoracic vertebrae to her hairline, and she shudders at the sensation. It feels primal. Possessive.

---------------------------------

Wonderful look at what it might have been like when Mulder could read minds.

Title: The Restless Heart, The Promised Land

Author: incidental @incidental-ao3

Summary: Someone on twitter wondered what Mulder would've heard in Scully's head during The Sixth Extinction when he was still able to read minds. This is my take on that. Could be canon compliant, since we have no canon answer to a lot of the timeline of their romantic relationship. Inspired by twitter and The Killers.

Length: 5,100

Classification: MSR love confession (unintentional)

Rating: T

Spoilers: The Sixth Extinction II: Amor Fati

Favorite line: I love you so much, she thought, and he smiled again, truly amazed. He didn’t think he was hallucinating this. God, I’m so glad you’re alive.

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An explanation for Mulder’s terrible season 7 haircut.

Title: Unscrupulous

Author: Narida Law (sarea)

Summary: Mulder's haircut is, quite simply, the result of one woman's possessive nature.

Length: 2,424

Classification: MSR UST

Rating: T

Spoilers:

Favorite line: She didn't need to walk anything off. She just had to keep those women at the requisition desk from ogling what was hers.

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The prompt from fragile vixen includes the words voyeurism is encouraged... I love it when they can't help themselves.

Title: Blind Spot

Author: alienqueequeg @alienqueequeg

Summary: After a long day working on a pointless assignment, Mulder and Scully start to get frisky in the records room of the FBI Headquarters.

Length: 3,580

Classification: MSR

Rating: E

Spoilers:

Favorite line: Mulder bends his neck down, pressing his lips to her neck. A quick study to all her favorite spots, he executes his move with the precision of a predator going in for the kill. She clenches her thighs and mentally curses him.

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Very sweet destined-to-be-together fic following the path laid out by the lyrics of Taylor Swift’s song Mastermind.

Title: Mastermind

Author: Katy_KT_Katie and tofuttiM @katy-kt-katie and @tofuttim

Summary: What if we told you none of it was accidental? That once Dana Scully met Fox Mulder she knew she had to force them into a partnership, a friendship and a relationship. Fic looking at their relationship from first meeting through the Revival. Canon Adjacent.

Length: 19,836

Classification: MSR

Rating: E

Spoilers: runs over the course of the whole show

Favorite line: She reflected on how much she had changed while working with Mulder. Her mind was more open but so was her heart. She’d never loved anyone as fiercely and completely as she loved him. He was her perfect opposite and the pull of them towards each other made them both better, made them both whole people. Even if their relationship never progressed, she didn’t care, she needed to be with him, needed him by her side always.

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Does what it says on the tin. Extremely lovely look at mornings they share over the years.

Title: days sweetest moments are at dawn

Author: catharsisxf @catharsisxf

Summary: A glimpse at various mornings they spent together from Arcadia onward.

Length: 8,304

Classification: MSR

Rating: Not rated but some chapters are explicit

Spoilers: Arcadia on

Favorite line: She notices Dana hovering with a nervous energy, her hands fidgeting like she doesn’t know what to do with herself. As she puts away the last of the leftovers Maggie turns to her with a smile then freezes. Glancing towards the living room she spots a black leather jacket tossed on the back of the sofa. Looking a little more closely she spies a man’s shoe under the coffee table and a silk blouse hanging off the armchair.

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This happens to be a beautifully written look at them together discovering more about one another, enjoying the closeness that they've found as they've entered into a romantic relationship. Chapter 2 also happens to be "extremely hot monkey sex" as Mulder puts it. I love how Darwin writes them.

Title: Close through the Dark

Author: Darwin_xf @darwin-xf

Summary: A long time ago in a galaxy much like our own but with no smartphones, Mulder and Scully explore the vicissitudes of family, the metaphysics of sex, the intersection of desire and power, the motives of Skinner, the confines and conventions of gender, the inadequacy of language, a deep dark secret or two, and—most importantly—each other. Basically, nothing happens.

Length: 9,193

Classification: MSR, E

Rating: E

Spoilers:

Favorite line: “Maybe we should close the windows,” she said.

“It doesn’t bother me. For once I’m about to curl up with my favorite warm body and someone else is acting like a lunatic and going home alone.”

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Really beautiful and gentle story of their love for each other with a bit of a gut punch at the end. But it's OK! Num said: Just know in this universe Mulder does make it back and William isn't put up for adoption. It's just a bump in the road

Title: Handfesta

Author: numinous_mysteries @numinousmysteries

Summary: He wants to marry her in a primeval fashion that transcends man and law and God.

Length: 5,056

Classification: MSR

Rating: E

Spoilers: Season 7

Favorite line: “Oh, Mulder,” she sighs. “A pagan ceremony preceded by a mysterious seven-hour road trip with a 5 a.m. wakeup call is the only way I would ever expect to marry you. Truly, if you got down on one knee with a diamond ring after a candlelit dinner I’d probably immediately order a CT scan to check you for a cerebral hemorrhage.”

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I am obsessed with this fic. Every time I read it I am staggered by the prose. Absolute stunner. Beautiful love story from Scully's perspective over the course of season 7 with sharp edges. Rings so true and is heartachingly good.

Title: ālea iacta est

Author: brenayla @brenayla

Summary: For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, and for Scully so loved Mulder that she’s cracked his ribs to restart his heart and dug bloodied fingers into his mangled thigh to slow the gush of his femoral artery.

If her unfettered belief in Mulder was enough to give him eternal life, the sun would burn out first.

Length: 11,628

Classification: MSR

Rating: E

Spoilers: Season 7

Favorite line: They are all my favourite line so here's one of them: Sometimes when he looks at her, Scully is struck with the staggering realization that that greedy, sweet thing she feels for him? God, he feels it right back.

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Something Different

Something truly magical here. The world as they know it ends and they find a little girl who is something more. Don’t want to spoil too much, they do absolutely go through it but it still has that sense of magic to it and ultimately feels hopeful.

Title: the sprite universe

Author: audries @audriesfic

Summary: On the last and final day, God created little girls. On the last and final day, from Scully’s true rib on her right side, God created daughters without mothers and mothers without sons and so on and so forth. Amen Amen Hallelejuah.

prompt from @enigmaticdr on tumblr: AU post-2012, dystopian, a hardened Mulder and Scully find an abandoned child at the side of the road.

Length: 5,114 over two works

Classification: Post series AU

Rating: G

Spoilers:

Favorite line: “She’s just a child,” Scully is saying, almost too quiet, and he has no idea why she’s saying it at all, except for the careful way the woman had stepped away, her eyes on the Sprite and not the gun. Like there was only one thing she was scared of and Scully wasn’t it. “She’s just a little girl.”

The woman grins, dazed and toothless, as she backs into the crop of trees off the side of the lot, away from them. “Beg your pardon, ma’am,” she sniffs, wipes her wrist across her mouth, leaving a hard line instead of a smile in its wake. “But you have no idea what she is.”

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Heavy Hitters From OG Writers

This fic is a stone cold classic. I spent decades away from the fandom and this fic and Lydia Bower stuck with me as the ultimate in xf fanfic.

Title: Dance Without Sleeping

Author: wonderland/Lydia Bower @amplifyme

Summary: Scully learns to live with her cancer and take back control of her life. Meanwhile, Mulder works on fulfilling a wish list.

Length: 30,621

Classification: MSR, cancer arc

Rating: M

Spoilers:

Favorite line: He peers down at me, his eyes dark and sleepy. He sighs, a deep, shuddery sigh and pulls me tighter against him. "If you had any idea what you mean to me," his voice drops to a gravely whisper, “you wouldn't have to ask."

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There’s nothing I can say about this fic that will be sufficient. It’s Penumbra writing as The_Mythopoeic. It is poetic and epic and bracing and absolutely gorgeous.

Title: Heuvelmans' On the Track

Author: The_Mythopoeic/Penumbra @mashnotesofthemythopoeic

Summary: In which Scully becomes a Consortium doctor, and Mulder moves heaven and earth.

Length: 81,392

Classification: MSR

Rating: M

Spoilers:

Favorite line: It’s Penumbra so all of it, but this really stuck with me: Keagle, who had said nothing until now, turned and studied Scully openly. She lifted her chin slightly, and their equally blunt gazes exchanged a grudging recognition.

Keagle nodded. 'She would have got out,' he said.

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This is a post Never Again fic that sees them working a very compelling case with a great original character. There is conflict and MSR and it’s just fantastic.

Title: The Common Fate of All Things Rare

Author: Aloysia_Virgata and Scarlet

Summary: Ever wonder what happened between the silence of Never Again and the flowers from Memento Mori? Ever wonder if Scully's night with Ed Jerse affected her relationship with Mulder in any way? Ever wonder what pushed Scully to go to the hospital and find out about her cancer in the first place? Ever wonder how her illness might have affected her work or if she ever thought about Leonard Betts' words?

Well, we did...

Length: 46,702

Classification: Casefile, MSR, cancer arc, angst

Rating: M

Spoilers: Never Again

Favorite line: "Now, listen to me very carefully. You two clearly have some personal problems that are interfering with your focus on this case. So here's what you're going to do: you're going to drive to your hotel and fight or fuck or snort an eight ball of blow - whatever you do to get functional - and then we're going to find this guy. You come back here with a game face or you go home. Do you understand me?"

---------------------------------

JET is such a unique, gifted writer. Her voice is entirely her own. An all time great. Small Lives Awaken is a banger but this one– a case after Amor Fati where they meet star crossed lovers, one of whom can read the other’s mind– is a thing of beauty too.

Title: Silence Waiting

Author: Jesemie’s Evil Twin (JET)

Summary: "I saw old Autumn in the misty morn stand

shadowless like Silence, listening to silence..."

Thomas Hood

Or, The First Nine Days.

Length: 18,600ish

Classification: MSR, Oddness

Rating: E

Spoilers: Through Amor Fati

Favorite line: He said some things a few days ago, but they were just words in that cloaked, measured way he always seems to be speaking to her in his hallway -- if he can hold her in his arms for thirty seconds at a time, once every two or three years, if he can say 'saved' and 'touchstone' and 'whole person,' eventually, decades from now, he might also finally string together enough of those words to fully explain what she means to him.

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Listen. I don’t like to pick favourites because we are so incredibly lucky to have some of the best writers in the world writing xf fanfic, but this one by Revely might just be it for me. Definitely top 5 of all time. Mulder is returned in Oregon after a year. This is their drive back across the country. It is utterly beautiful.

Title: The Unfinished Universe

Author: Revely

Summary:

Length: Around 17,700

Classification: MSR

Rating: Not rated

Spoilers: This is an alternate post abduction Mulder universe

Favorite line: She writes, "I do not want to be buried without you. Who will hold my hand?"

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Another all time favourite of mine. This is a great casefile but what I really love about it is how realistic the balance of their romantic and working relationships feels here. It’s satisfyingly mature and very recognisably them.

Title: Seeds of Synchronicity

Author: mountainphile

Summary: Six years after the events of "Aubrey," Scully and Mulder revisit the Missouri town to confront old demons and lay new ones to rest.

Length: ~92,350 words (as per @lilydalexf here)

Classification: MSR, casefile

Rating: E

Spoilers: Aubrey, Emily set in season 7

Favorite line: "This is different. New game, new rules..." Sighing, she knows her words sound cliched and inane in the warm heady space they inhabit on the bed.

"No, no games." His eyes so close, commanding her gaze, he the only one alive who knows her best. "Just reality. The truth."

"Which is...?"

"That we love one other, no matter what."

---------------------------------

Happy holidays @unremarkablehouse!

#txf fanfic #fic recs #fic rec list #poangpresents2024 #poangpals #unremarkablehouse

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dumbbitchenergy17 · 1 day ago

Text

Where the Wild Things Are - Chapter 10

Chapter Ten: Family Line

Plot: Wild men or monstrous infected creatures, the world is wild and ravaged by Cordecyps but some are raised in it and flourish becoming a wild thing.

Word Count: 4K

Pairing: Joel Miller x Platonic!Teen!Reader, Ellie Williams x Platonic!Reader

Warnings: canon-typical fighting/violence, injuries, harsh language, tw: NOTES OF SELF HARM, ANXIETY ATTACKS/RESPONSE, trauma from abusive mother, description of child neglect/abuse

a/n: I hope everyone enjoys the holiday season and here is a Christmas angsty post

—————

Scattered 'cross my family line.

I'm so good at telling lies That came from my mother's side. Told a million to survive

Scattered 'cross my family line.

God, I have my father's eyes But my sister's when I cry.

I can run, but I can't hide From my family line

Anything could happen. One wrong move can turn this into a bloodbath. You can see each individual, pausing at a woman who wears a balaclava covering the lower half of her face but you recognize those eyes. Lila squirms seemingly recognizing the group as the woman lowers her mask, both you and Lila saying the same thing.

“Mom..?” “Momma!”

The air is like daggers filling your lungs, stabbing you as you inhale, scraping and cutting you as you exhale. You’re not sure if she knows you anymore. Are you some fleeting memory of her poor child that left her? Abandoned her all those years ago. Do you even recognize her? Of course you do, she is the same in your memories, in your dreams and nightmares. She probably smells the same if you were to be in her embrace. The smokiness and burnt smell that others would cringe away but you seek comfort from it, the smell of burning wood always reminds you of her. The sharpness of almost rubbing alcohol changed to something more fruity whether it was wine or yeasty beer. But that smoky smell never left her. Even now breathing in fresh air you expect to get that hint of smoky. You are surely death gripping the reins as Lila vibrates in your saddle her hands reaching out to be taken…by her mother. You see the shocked looks from Tommy and Ellie as their gaze darts from you to the woman staring at you with equal shock. She finally speaks and it sends chills of fear but also safety through you.

“Y/n…is that really you honey…you’re alive?” She says and you think this a dream? As you see tears fill her eyes. The others that a with your mother lower their weapons and even Tommy and Ellie lower theirs too. You are speechless afraid if you say something you’ll wake up or she’ll disappear hearing you confirm you are the child she lost all those years ago.

“I’m sorry. I know this is all overwhelming. But it’s getting close to dark and infected tend to roam here. Look you should all come back with us to Jackson so we can figure,” Tommy says glancing over at you who is still silent dead staring at your mother someone he can’t help but feel like he knows, “Figure this all out.”

Your mother quickly wipes the tears from her face, “Yes I’m sorry. Thank you that is so kind of you.”

With that decided you all head towards Jackson. Tommy leading up front, Ellie in the middle with the other group including your mother, and you in the back with Lila. You’re sure Red could sense your complete shut off and taking over. You take in everything about her, her hair is longer and greying with age, and she looks the same but just older and weathered with time. She dressed normally for the weather nothing standing out, a sawed-off shotgun in her free hand the other holding her reins. You had so many questions since you knew that Kansas had fallen to infected where had she been this whole time? Lila yawns snuggling into your chest. When did she have time for another child, she could be old maybe five or six. She could have had her when you were gone makes sense, you wouldn’t know if your mother was pregnant when you were in the QZ. Or would you have? The way she just acted was nothing you experienced in the fourteen years with her. Was your leaving cause her change? Did she miss you? Looking down at Lila you feel your chest tighten, did having her change her? Was this child the reason she wanted now to be a good mother? You wince already remember her words at that comment. She was the best mother she could be with the resources she had. It’s your fault you made it harder on her to raise you. You wouldn’t have a better childhood if you listened more. Did Lila listen? Was she better at things you struggled to do before? Did she have your mother’s affection? Did she have your mother’s love? Was Lila being born a way to heal her broken heart from you abandoning her?

Your restless thoughts keep you occupied for the duration of the trip and when you come partially aware you are at the gates of Jackson right as the sunset dips below the horizon and the lights of the community start turning on. Watching the large gates open to a small crowd of people waiting for your return but also hearing of the newcomers. Your gaze sweeps seeing members of the council, Dina and Jesse there most likely for Ellie, and Joel and Maria are waiting in the forefront of the crowd. All your horses draw to a stop the stablehands come and start guiding the Jackson and outsider horses to the stables for food and rest. In your arms is a sleeping Lila, your pack and rifle still on your back an empty expression on your face. There might be a look on your face but you can’t think of one as you stare off as the man with the gruff voice helps your mother off her horse and you see a slight weight shift to her, something is either wrong with her leg or foot. You are motionless as everything else moves around you, Dina and Jesse greeting Ellie who seems to be keeping an eye on you. The council alongside Maria with their son as they speak to Tommy about the newcomers, his gaze also flickering back to you as you still just stand there. Other members of Jackson check out the new people the local doctor coming to check some of their injuries, especially a man who’s currently in a makeshift sling. You don’t notice Joel’s concerned gaze on you as people move around you but remain frozen with a little girl in your arms. One person comes over a nurse or someone comes and takes Lila from your arms and you slip your rifle and revolver off to someone so they can be locked up with the other weapons. You mumble lightly that she might have some minor injuries to check, but it comes out like, ‘Cuts…no bites…she’s hers.” Your gaze is still locked.

It’s a shock to the Millers and even those that know of you. Since you’ve been here, it’s harsh, bitter, curses or glares thrown. A hot temper, but then it mellowed out still a spitfire but wasn’t picking fights. This version was frighteningly silent, like the entire world around you faded away only focused on one thing, but even you didn’t dare to speak up or try and react. Joel just sees someone coming at you and he makes a step to go protect you but a woman throws her arms around your shoulders pulling you into a tight hug and crying into your shoulder.

“Oh thank god you’re alive. I thought all these years I lost you and I never forgave myself.” She sobs into your flannel her tears and snot getting on it, your body rigid hands held at your side as she holds you with such tender affection. This was the first time she hugged you, you would remember other times trying to get one only for her to push you away. It was always you trying desperate to initiate one but here she was holding onto you like you were going to crumble apart if she let go. She pulls away with teary eyes she clutches your cheeks looking over you taking in every detail of you and keeping it in your memory. You shudder at the eye contact, you don’t think she’s ever stared at you for this long and it only gets your heart racing more.

“You are so beautiful and all grown up. I’m so sorry I couldn’t find you then, but I was given a second chance now,” She sniffs and you don’t know what to say your hands clenching and unclenching trying to keep yourself grounded. A burning sensation at the back of your eyes.

Everyone could sense how uncomfortable you looked, not knowing how to act in this very emotional situation, “Tommy who is that?” Maria asks not fully able to hear every word being said but it was clear whoever this was knew you.

“The little girl, Lila that’s her mother,” Tommy hesitates in dropping this bomb, “She is also Y/n’s mother.” Joel’s eyes widen once he gets a better view of the woman immediately getting thrown back almost 20 years ago remember her. It was still early in the Outbreak with people being evacuated to other QZs. They were all together in the Dallas QZ until they got separated when it reached capacity. Tommy and he went to Boston and she went to another QZ. He wouldn’t have forgotten her.

“Tommy what did you do,” Maria asks immediately on edge. If that was your mother she knew exactly what she was capable of. Does she warn them to stop this? Had things truly changed with time? No, she abused you as a child she can’t change…but with her crying in front of you Maria felt hesitation to speak. Both Tommy and Joel give her a confused look before returning to look at what’s happening before them.

Your throat feels tight as you barely get the word, “M-mom…I..I” out and she’s all teary while you feel on the edge of having a breakdown.

“Shhh don’t worry about anything. All that matters is that we are together as a family. You, me, your sister,” Her mentioning Lila pushes you further to the edge, your hands squeeze so tightly you’re sure blood is drawn, “Oh honey you’ll love it,” She gushes. Honey that name you only dreamed she’d call you another step towards the edge.

“We’ve been waiting for this moment and…you have Derek…your father.”

You are shoved off the ledge as tears spill from your eyes but you know they aren’t tears of joy. It’s far from it as you see the gruff man with the bandana now lowered come over standing beside your mother. He rests a hand on your shoulder and you can feel it burning through your clothes and scarring your flesh.

“Hey kiddo…it’s been some time,” It’s like every warning bell is ringing in your head. This isn’t how it’s supposed to be. You’re not supposed to get a face to the name ‘dad’, he was nameless. A bastard father to a bastard daughter. You were going to die and never know what he looks like conjured up some image of a man that is always changing. You shove your mother off you and she gasps as your father goes to steady her all eyes immediately on you. Your hands are clenched so hard in fists that your face tenses up with these wide frightened eyes. An almost pained noise comes from your throat like you want to scream or cry but are forcing it back.

“Honey..” “Kiddo.” Both your parents try reaching back to you but you take a clumsy step back and then book it pushing through the crowd. Your vision is a blur and you nearly run into Joel who tries to steady you but you shove him away and book it down the street darting down an alley. Your mother tries going after you but is held back by your father.

“Ellie,” Joel calls out getting the girl and her friends' attention, “Try and find her please.” The younger girl nods and the three young kids run off in search of you. Joel turns back to the couple bickering as Tommy and Maria approach.

“I told you it would all be too much,” The man says and the woman runs her hand through her hair, “It doesn’t matter now. We can’t take it back.” She turns to look over at the adults her gaze pausing on one familiar man.

“Joel Miller?” She seemed shocked to see him especially alive after all these years there almost seemed to be a twinge of fear in her eyes.

“It’s good to see you after all these years,” Joel says and Tommy looks between his brother and your mother and it clicks how he recognizes her. The QZ was back in Dallas in their early days. She and Joel were pretty close that was…like 18 ye— Immediately his gaze darts from both Joel to your mother, then to your ‘father’. His first memory of you was thinking how familiar you looked then when he came back with Joel it was like staring at a mirror from face down to attitude. Especially now looking at your ‘father’ you didn’t look a lick like him, maybe Lila did but you certainly did not. He squeezes his wife’s hand and flashes her a small ‘when need to talk’ look which she understands and squeezes back. Your mother laughs awkwardly.

“Yeah, what are the odds…anyway thank you for all you’ve done for our daughter it’s good having her safe with us.” She says and the irony from it given the fact you just ran off.

“It’s glad to see you alive and well,” Maria says fixing her grip on her son, “Y/n has said much about you…but not much about her father.” Her gaze moves from your mother whose gaze almost narrows to daggers to your father who looks a bit nervous.

“Unfortunately Y/n and her father haven’t had the best relationship but we’re hoping to reestablish that, especially in this world where anything can happen,” Your mother says smoothly and Maria tensely nods.

“Well…let’s get you situated with some food, check in on your other daughter, and then we’ll get you and your people settled for the night,” Tommy suggests, and your mother and her group all nod. Tommy begins leading them off to the Tipsy Bison. Maria goes over to Joel who watches the whole scene.

“Joel go find Y/n,” She says and Joel nods but he notices the conflicted look in her eyes.

“You know something,” He questions and she flashes him a look but sighs.

“Just give me time Joel, please. Go worry about her for now.” She pleads and Joel looks at her trying to unpick her but sighs and goes off and looks for you.

Joel hits your normal spots, the stables, specifically Red’s pen but not there, checks Maria and Tommy’s house to see if you’re there, and even goes to his home to see if you decided to run off there but no, he was going to head to the library when he runs into Dina who tells them they found her. The pair head out into the woods to reach a clearing, there’s an unlit stone firepit and some benches made my logs, he’s been here a few times with Ellie and Tommy, but this was mainly a spot for the younger kids.

“Go!” You screech like a wild banshee as a rock hits a stray tree. There he finds, Ellie and Jesse on the outskirts where the forest ends and the clearing starts. You are in the middle of it pacing and he feels a spike of concern seeing flecks of red in the snow.

“Y/n let’s just talk—” Ellie starts jumping back as another object is thrown in their direction a pained held-back scream.

“Fuck off!” You grit out. Your bloody hands grip your hair, your gloves tossed amongst the snow as you pace your heart racing and they can see you choking to get air in your system.

“Kids go,” Joel says and Jesse and Dina nod starting to trail away he sees Ellie look at him hesitant before she too leaves. Joel takes a step into the clearing the crunch of snow makes you whip to face him and he raises his hands like taming a wild beast. Your chest heaves as you eye him with sharp panicked eyes. Tears stream down your flushed cheeks as you continue making that pained noise.

“I’m not gonna do anything kid,” Joel says calmly as one of your hands that grips your hair moves to your flannel clutching your collar as if it’s choking you. Joel rushes as you drop to your knees with an unhuman cry like this tidal wave of emotions finally takes over. He pries your blood hand from your hair to stop harming yourself allowing you to death grip his sleeve as you scream this gutwrenching sound. Joel squeezes you close to his chest as your screams muffle in his coat soon it turns into a heartbreaking whimper. He has to look up to the sky to blink back the burn in his eyes holding you close to him his hand stroking your hair to soothe you.

“It’s okay…I got you,” He says as you tremble in his hold weak sobs and hiccups as you break down. It took a while for your cries to settle down just sniffles fill the clearing, the cold snow seeping into both of your pants a grounding force. Joel pulls back to get a good look at you and you see the pity frown as he takes in your bloodshot eyes, snotty and just out of it from your breakdown. His thumb swipes at your cheek to help rid the stray tears and you don’t even react to it. You don’t flinch at his eye contact unlike your mother, his contact doesn’t send pain throughout your body, your heart doesn’t race, nor does your chest tighten as he holds you. It’s quiet between you too as he helps you to your feet, shrugging his coat off and putting it over your shoulder to stop your shivering. Your stare is endless completely checked out as he rushes to collect your gloves shoving them in his pocket turning and seeing you still standing there. The coat seems to engulf you and he sees little droplets of blood fall from your slack fingers staining the pure snow crimson. Wrapping his arm around your back he begins guiding you out of the clearing to civilization. The other proof something happened would be the stains of blood that litter it. Like a sacrifice was needed to completely let yourself go.

Joel brings you to Rancher Street but instead of the home you’ve been staying at the past month he guides you up the porch steps to the place where it all started. The lights are dim as he guides you to sit on the couch before the still-crackling fire. Footsteps from upstairs and he sees a concerned Ellie coming down the stairs taking in the sight of you unmoving on the couch.

“Ellie get some blankets and a clean rag with water,” Joel says and Ellie rushes off the complete the order. Joel leaves his coat still on you but kneels to untie your boots and you do little to help just a deadweight. Your eyes were almost lifeless the flames of the fireplace flickering in them. Ellie returns with the items before heading off to the kitchen, Joel takes the cloth getting it damp before pushing back some of your hair seeing the scratches you caused, and being gentle to clean them away. You don’t barely react when he accidentally puts pressure on a cut as he cleans the blood and tears from your face. Once your face is clean he goes to work on your bloody hands when their a knock on the door.

“Joel, go I got this,” Ellie says returning with a steaming cup of what looks like hot chocolate, to try and lift your spirits. Joel lets the young girl take over heading to answer the door. There he finds his brother alongside his wife and child.

“Did you find her?” Tommy asks and Joel leads them inside from the cold but not completely in. They can see Ellie speaking softly to you as she cleans your hands but your gaze remains on the flames an exhausted look on your face. “Christ,” Tommy sighs pinching the bridge of his nose and Maria looks over a high wave of emotions seeing you completely shut down.

“Her…her mother…wanted to see know if she would be staying with them,” Tommy asks and Joel immediately feels a rush of anger, “I know it’s a stupid question.”

“Hell no Tommy,” Joel spats, “You think any normal person would react the way she did if they saw their mother and father again? I won’t let that happen.” He points at your lifeless body as Ellie tries offering you the drink but it’s like she’s invisible staring right through her.

“I know that Joel, you think I didn’t see that as well, but that’s her kid. Y/n is their family,” Tommy sighs and Joel scoffs.

“And is she not ours?! Who took care of her all these months? Who let her in their home when she thought she had no one? Who did she cry to and confided to? Us Tommy!” Joel points at himself then at his brother and wife, “Sure I know her mom and we all had our history together, but if my child tears themselves to the point of bleeding at the sight of them I’m not going to stand by.”

“I agree with Joel,” Maria's voice is smooth but a held-back anger in her tone. She holds her son with the protection of a mother and if she could she would be right over by you holding and comforting you. Both Miller brothers are surprised at Maria’s stance and Joel scrutinizes her trying to pick her apart to learn what she knows.

“You know they aren’t going to like this,” Tommy says but the looks on both Maria and Joel’s faces make him sigh. Both of them are willing to die on this hill. “I’ll go let them know that she’s already asleep.” With that, Tommy presses a kiss to his wife’s temple before leaving the home. Joel looks back seeing that you are indeed asleep with Ellie resting her head on the armrests looking over you. Maria rests a hand on Joel’s shoulder as he looks down at his sister-in-law.

“Just take care of her Joel,” Maria says and Joel nods as Maria leaves. Joel comes over to Ellie who looks over you with such genuine concern and care.

“Come on kiddo,” He says offering a hand and pulling the teen to her feet keeping her close to his chest, both drained from the high emotions.

“Will she be alright Joel?” She asks and Joel is silent looking down at you resting on the couch a frown on your face. Even in sleep, you were being tormented.

“She will…come on up to bed,” Joel says and Ellie tiredly listens heading up the stairs as Joel begins putting out the fire. He turns to where you lay lit by the sliver of light from the window and the hallway lights. His hand pushes your hair back making sure you’re comfortable, he doesn’t stop himself from smoothing out the crease between your brows and you seem to settle more a bit of tension released. A flash of Sarah covers your feature and he flinches at the resemblance of his daughter. Why looking at you brought memories of the daughter he lost confused him. There were moments when Ellie acted that reminded him of Sarah but the two of them were nothing alike, while Ellie was loud and brash, Sarah was gentle and soft-spoken This brief moment you look so young and innocent, a child that never got to be a child. You looked like his child.

“No one’s going to hurt you babygirl,” He says as he rises to his feet looking down at his daughter until he blinks and there you lay. He whispers into the air his oath to you.

“I promise.”

Where the Wild Things Are Tags

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If your name is crossed out tumblr won’t let me tag you for some reason. Sorry :(

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caramelpenguin · 19 hours ago

Text

"What do I need to do again?" Simon’s voice is low, careful.

Wilhelm gulps. "Just, like, be yourself. How you were. Around me." Saying it feels like digging his own grave. His stomach is tight, his breath shallow, as if the air is too thick to pull in. Everything around him—the polished marble floors, the grand chandeliers, the echoes of distant voices—is too pristine, too suffocating.

He glances at Simon, his hand brushing against Wilhelm’s for just a moment before retreating. The brief touch stings like a burn.

Two months. They haven't seen each other in two months. Not since it was decided that perhaps this relationship wouldn't work out, that their love wouldn't be able to weather the storm of the Royal Court, of the whirlwind that Wilhelm has been brought up in. He convinced himself that it was the right thing to do. He'd rather remember Simon and his happiest moments with soft glow. Not a harsh ending where it would inevitably culminate in a fiery eruption.

It seemed to be an invisible agreement that neither would manage being 'friends'. Maybe one day, but not yet. Not when everything was a bit too raw. The past two months were like concrete hardening in his chest, only reminding him of how deeply he had loved and how devastatingly he had been loved in return.

"Take a deep breath, yeah?" Simon turns so that he's facing Wilhelm directly, blocking them from the rest of the empty sterile corridor. "In and out with me, Wille."

Wilhelm’s breath stutters, but he tries. He inhales shakily, and then exhales, eyes darting up to meet Simon’s. His curls are the same, his gaze just as warm, just as deep. Wilhelm’s heart is an old wound tearing open. He wonders why they let it end, why they broke up. He asks himself why he lost the battle, why his sword couldn't be sharper and his shield steadier.

Two months ago, he had promised himself that this was the right choice. A break-up included not initiating unnecessary contact, it meant burying their love, locking it in a box that only he would open in private. Wilhelm didn't tell his family about the break-up. He couldn't. Because he knew his mother would only say she saw this coming. She'd raise her nose and her chin would be sharp and she'd speak as if she held all the secrets to the universe - 'people like Simon aren't right for you, Wilhelm."

That’s why Simon is here now, standing in this empty corridor before they step into the lion’s den. Wilhelm invited him to this royal event to prove her wrong—to prove to her that their love wasn’t some fleeting, silly thing. Even if it’s all fake now. Even if this is the last shred of Simon he’ll ever hold onto.

"We don't have to, you know." Simon shuffles even closer. His fingers brush Wilhelm’s again, and this time they linger. Wilhelm wants to kiss him. He aches. He wants to go back in time and rewrite history. "We don't have to show our faces."

"She'll only use that against me later." Wilhelm replies, voice tight. His hand clenches in Simon’s, and he forces himself to loosen it. He can’t seem too desperate, even if he feels like he’s drowning.

"Alright then," he says. Simon’s eyes are so dark, so familiar. He’s seen those eyes full of love, fury, joy—he’s seen everything Simon has to give. All Wilhelm feels is the unbearable weight of what he’s lost. "If you're comfortable."

I'm always comfortable with you, Wilhelm almost says. Simon's presence unravels him, makes him weak, makes him smile in that unguarded way where his teeth show. He can't imagine anybody else by his side.

#theyre so in love #young royals #wilmon #young royals fanfiction #yr drabble #yr ficlet #merry christmas #if u celebrate

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spookystree · 3 days ago

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More roommates au stuff cause my gf who's in beauty school came up with some shenanigans for the girls

↓↓↓

At the school there is one shampoo bowl that the on lever goes the opposite way of all the others, leading to (mostly crystal) spraying herself with it many times

Niko and Crystal do each other's hair and nails every once in a while when they get the time

Crystal also does facials and skincare stuff on Niko

Niko and Crystal try their best to stay out of any drama that happens but they go home and tell the boys all about it

Charles does the same about the bar

Edwin never really says anything about work, he just sits there and listens to the other three

Crystal hates how much the school plays Christmas music

Niko on the other hand is very happy and loves it

A lot of the girls at the school would do anything to defend Niko if needed

Edwin is unsure about what he wants to do so he's happy with working at the bookstore for now

Charles is pretty much the same but he knows he doesn't wanna go to college

Niko goes to anime conventions and has tried to drag the others (only Crystal has gone with her so far)

Crystal yells at her car like it's a person

Charles comforts his car like it's a person

Crystal just has bad road rage overall honestly

Charles' depends on his mood

Niko blasts music the SECOND she gets into her car

Crystal's favorite horror movie is the Candyman requel, she also really likes the child's play franchise

Charles loves Scream (he has forced Edwin to dress up as Billy and Stu for Halloween)

Scream is also the only horror movie Edwin will watch with him without complaining (it's his boyfriends favorite, he can't complain too much)

They've done a group Halloween costume as the Scooby gang

Edwin as Velma, Charles as Daphne, Crystal as Fred, Niko as Shaggy and then they got the puppy a Scooby Doo collar (it never comes off again)

Also the dog's name is Sherlock now cause I just thought of that

Charles REALLY wants to do a group costume of Scream (Billy, Stu, Sidney and Tatum) but has yet to convince them all to actually do it

Edwin likes ANY media to do with detectives, no matter how bad it is

They all play Scooby Doo clue together cause yes

Rambles over for now, farewell 😁

Also send me any ideas you have! I love this silly goofy au i made up in my head

#dead boy detectives #dbda #save dead boy detectives #i love them #edwin payne #payneland #crystal palace surname von hoverkraft #palasaki #niko sasaki #roommates au

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ragnarockz · 3 days ago

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The Good Detective

Agnes O'Connor x Agent Vidal

Summary: Using the prompt: "Be good for me and I'll untie you", Agent Vidal wants to see just how far she can push Detective Agnes O'Connor while being tied up like a present for her own use.

Tags: Swearing, nudity, partial nudity, pet names, daddy kink, light bondage, vaginal fingering, forced masturbation.

Word Count: 1,891

AO3 Link: The Good Detective

“Be good for me and I’ll untie you,”

But Agnes didn’t want to be good. She came into this game wanting to be very, very bad. And she both wanted and craved punishment. She wanted Agent Vidal to deliver her threat, her attack. Agnes lifted her head as much as she could in her position to look Agent Vidal in the eye, giving her a nasty snarl of a smile. She was going to defy her; sealing her fate in whatever punishment Agent Vidal saw fit to throw at her. She waited impatiently, her own thighs already soaked from her own cum.

Agent Vidal had been invited over by Agnes earlier that evening; the two of them shared some Chinese takeout and a 6 pack. It was like clockwork now for them; they’d chase new leads in the case, eat dinner and then start talking about semi-serious, semi-personal things. And when those took a turn and neither of them wanted to budge or felt like they were revealing too much; it turned to sex. Neither of them minded; they found out more about one another that way. Maybe they didn’t need words to figure each other out; everything would be laid out between them when they were at their most vulnerable, their most open with each other.

Agent Vidal had wanted to try a new ‘game’ as she called it; asking Agnes if she had anything she could use to bind. Agnes scoffed, rolled her eyes as if Vidal had asked her if the sky was blue. She handed over the silk tie from her robe; a beautiful black silk. She had stripped Agnes down to nothing but then tossed her blue plaid button up at her and demanded she put it back on; unbuttoned. That stirred something deep into Agnes’ brain; something carnal. Agent Vidal had teased her for weeks about her only wearing the same thing, the same plaid shirts. She even asked once over lunch if she just had a closet full of them; like that was her uniform. Agnes scoffed and rolled her eyes; she couldn’t afford to look as high-end as Agent Vidal and what she chose to wear gave her comfort and agility to do her job. Now, Agnes realized as she laid in her own bed, tied up by the Agent, she was asking because it turned her on.

“What’s that snarl for, Daddy? You’re not gonna be good for me?”

Agent Vidal’s voice was honeyed, trying to soothe Agnes into submission. She wanted it; wanted to feel those rough, clumsy hands over her body. She loved Agnes’ hands; she loved how they felt when they held her waist when she rode her, the way her fingers felt inside of her. She wanted those hands and fingers even though she was the one who tied them up with a pretty little silk bow. The bow made Agnes blush; a feminine touch.

But Agnes would not open her mouth and her snarl remained on her lips. She was going to play this game now, choosing to push Vidal over the edge. She watched as Vidal’s gaze darkened, picking up on Agnes’ choice for the night. She liked when Agnes was in control but lately, it had been the other way around. Agent Vidal didn’t mind too much; she liked putting the hardened Detective in her place; showing her that she could be a moaning, begging mess just as much as she herself could be.

“Okay…if you don’t wanna be good for me then…you’re going to have to get off by yourself; wrists still bound,”

Agent Vidal stated, pretending she was bored with Agnes’ choice. She sighed softly, turning her hand to look at her nails. She knew how to play this game, too.

And she was right. She heard a rather loud, whiny moan from Agnes. She returned her focus to Agnes' face, watching her eyes squeeze shut, the wrinkle forming between her eyes that she loved so much. Vidal knew she had got the wheels turning; watching Agnes try to figure out just how she was going to do that.

“Maybe you should turn yourself over…use the sheets underneath you if you want…won’t be as effective as what I had in mind but if you really need to get off…if you really need to rub that beautiful pulsing clit on something, Baby, that would work…”

Another loud, low moan. Another shift in Agnes. Vidal watched on bent knees as Agnes shimmied herself, rolled herself over to lay on her stomach. Her face was in the pillows, her lower body facing Vidal, giving her a nice view of her ass and legs. Vidal whistled at the sight before her; at least she was going to get a nice show.

“You make sure that you come up a little high on your grind…just so much that I can see that beautiful wet pussy of yours from behind…ok, Daddy? Can you do that for me at least?”

Vidal’s words shot through Agnes like an arrow to the head; dead between the eyes. Her mouth felt like it was stuffed with cotton and her limbs felt like gelatin. It drove her crazy the way Agent Vidal chose to be in control. She wasn’t rough and pushy like she herself was; Vidal had a serpent's sweet tongue that made you feel like you were the one really in control. More flies with honey or something like that. She was trying to melt you in her hands; wanting nothing more for you to become a ball of mush she could mould and shape and play with. She wanted you drained, on the verge of lifelessness. She wanted you malleable. Subdued. Obedient.

Agnes tried her best with what she had to work with. Friction. The right positioning. She had done this before many, many times. Now, it was just without her hands. She could do it, she decided, and had to show Vidal that she wasn’t totally useless and helpless.With her hands straight between the center of her body; the bow gently pressed against her clit; she knew this was going to be an easy feat. She smirked to herself and felt the burning, intense gaze of Agent Vidal on her from behind. She was waiting patiently, waiting for the show to begin.

Agnes used her legs, her forearms, her head. Every part of her body that had a working muscle she made sure to use. The soft, silkiness of the bow felt like feathered fingertips gently stroking her clit. It was a better fabric to use to grind against and she was glad Vidal hadn’t used rope. She found her rhythm, her pace. She focused as hard as she could, closing her eyes to stay in the moment; to give her body what it was screaming for. She kept Agent Vidal’s request in her mind as she raised her legs up a little higher, pushed her lower body back just a little more. She could feel her shirt bunch up around her, the sleeves rolling up to a weird length. She suddenly felt frustrated, annoyed. Trying to keep up with herself and sensing everything around her that she wished she could move or change or take off. Agnes let out a strangled ‘fuck’ from under her breath into the pillow, biting down on her bottom lip.

“You’re getting impatient…how’s that friction working out for you, Daddy?”

Agnes rolled her eyes at Vidal’s voice. She grunted again, rolling her hips as she tried to hit the sweet spot. She curled her toes against the bed, trying to use the muscles in her body to get that perfect angle. She let out a loud sigh that turned into another moan. Her face was pressed to its side against the pillow, squishing her nose and eye but Agnes didn’t care; she was so close, so very close. It was then she felt Vidal’s fingers trace up against the back of her leg; from the inside of her knee joint moving up. Agnes froze and her heart felt like it was going to burst out of her chest.

“...I didn’t ask you to stop…don’t you want to cum for me? You almost had it, you were so close…”

Agent Vidal’s words dripped out of her mouth as Agnes could feel the Agent moving closer towards her on the bed. Her hands never left her skin, feeling like they were leaving scorch marks as they trailed upwards in between her legs. Agnes let out another pained moan; she was frustrated beyond belief.

“Get…this fucking…shirt off of me…the fucking tie…”

She didn’t even know if Agent Vidal could hear her words; pressed into the pillow still. Her face scrunched as she gave another buck of her legs, her hips. She had to be fast about this now, violent almost. Her hips and legs moved quickly, smashing down to her bound hands. She could feel the silk start to dampen faster; her fingers and hands both wet and sweaty. Agnes felt like she was on the brink of ruin; chasing that high; the stars that would burst behind her eyelids as the aching throb inside of her would hammer away.

That all would be what she expected to happen until she felt two very soft and warm fingers trace the outside of her folds, dipping gently inside of her. She pushed herself back towards Agent Vidal’s fingers; her back straightened out, belly almost pressed flat against her arms underneath her. She held, waiting for Vidal to start pumping her fingers. She waited. She breathed. She cursed silently.

“So impatient…this could have already happened if you just decided to be a good girl for me earlier, you know?”

Agnes chuckled, swore. She growled into the pillow with want, with frustration.

“Just…fuck me already, Vidal…fuck…”

“Oh, I would…if you had just decided to be good for me…but clearly, you’re not so…I think I’ll just stop here.”

“No you fucking don’t…don’t…don’t you dare fucking stop!”

There was a silence that filled the bedroom; minus Agnes’ heavy breathing. They were at a stalemate. Vidal wanted something from Agnes and Agnes wanted something else from Vidal and neither of them were willing to break. Agent Vidal smirked, a rumble of a laugh inside of her mouth as she pushed her fingers a little deeper into Agnes.

“I think you’re forgetting whose fingers are inside of who right now…so, are you going to be good for me? Huh, Daddy? A big, tough Detective like you can be good? Right? How else are you going to get my fingers to fuck you…”

Agnes was thinking; thinking very, very hard. How badly did she want this woman? Bad. She laughed to herself against the pillow before raising her head as much as her neck would allow her. Her words came out with a tinge of bitterness coated with desperation. It was pathetic; she sounded and obviously looked pathetic. It was exactly what Agent Vidal wanted.

“Fine…fuck, I’ll be good. Just…just for you…”

Vidal’s reply was easy; curling her fingers until Agnes gave out a guttural moan against the pillow. That was compliance. That was obedience. That was being a good girl.

#Marvel #Agatha All Along #Agatha Harkness #Agnes O'Connor #Agent Vidal #Rio Vidal #Detective Agnes O'Connor #aaa #Agatha Harkness x Rio Vidal #Agnes O'Connor x Agent Vidal #Detective Agnes #Agnes of Westview

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cuckoo-on-a-string · 3 hours ago

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If He Never Says It

MDNI

Shanks x f!reader

Warnings: heavy spice, hurt no comfort, angst, graphic description of dead bodies, character death

A/N: Please do feel free to scream with me in the comments.

If he never says it, it isn’t true.

His stirs from his dreams clinging to the taste of foreign words that have no business in the waking world. Half-conscious, he reaches over the warm patch beside him, grasping after a companion who isn’t where she ought to be.

As he blinks awake, taking in the daylight and the empty space under his arm, he resigns himself to weeks of old habits. He’s done it before. When he leaves, he’ll start each day this way, reaching for someone he expects but will never find in his quarters aboard the Red Force.

But he isn’t aboard yet, and he expects a cuddle. Maybe one last game beneath the sheets before he departs, too.

Grumbling, he listens to the little morning sounds of a bubbling kettle and warm liquid rushing into cups. So, that’s where his companion has gone. He knew she wouldn’t be far. Her home is only one great room. But she’s still too far away, and he whines.

“Don’t be like that.” She’s onto his games before he’s properly begun. “I’m just making some coffee.”

Lessons learned over long nights and aching mornings have given her foresight. Perfect creature.

“Damn, woman. Marry me.”

His hair’s in his eyes, and the sun glints on the window, blinding him to anything but her silhouette. But even still, he sees the pause. It rolls through her like the space between waves, a chance to glimpse the shiny things beneath frothing surf. And just like that, it tumbles away, dragged under the tide of their usual song and dance, and she’s scoffing, a little laugh that tilts her head back and bares her throat for the kill.

“As if you’d ever settle.” She returns to bed, sitting beside him and combing back his tousled hair. Her touch knows him, follows comforting trails away from his face, over his scalp. “You’re very pretty, Red-Haired Shanks, but the sunsets here are prettier.”

He nuzzles into her hand, giving her a lopsided smirk to hold in her palm. There’s nothing else he can let her keep.

Seas, he’s cruel.

It’s a kindness.

For every dismissive laugh and taunting remark, he’s adding years to her life’s count. The leagues he puts between them are measures of peace he could never gift her. He’s not a man for real romance, anyway. He’s never lied about what he can and cannot offer a woman, and he’s never broken his word – in either regard.

This is the same as every other lover he’s charmed to sharing more than drink.

It is.

Even if he’s found so many reasons to stop at the little island in his territory – for more booze, or fresh rations, or simply because the men need time ashore in a secure port. And every time, he finds himself in her bed.

People have started to notice. He comes ashore and the locals giggle behind their hands about how “the Emperor’s girl” will be scarce the next few days. Beck has started giving him looks, waiting for the other shoe to drop, or maybe just waiting for his captain to realize it already has. There’s a principle that guides his trysts. Better a broken heart than a still one.

He turns his smirk into a kiss, smelling coffee and sugar on her skin.

It’s past time to make this the last time.

He gives her hand a cheeky lick, and she jerks away, sputtering through a laugh, and lets the moment pass in a breeze of levity. She accepts his cruelty so kindly.

What a woman to love. What a woman to keep. If only the seas were kind and men were honest, what wouldn’t he give to have her in his own bed, in his heart and soul?

Sliding back under the covers, she gets her revenge, pinching his side, and he throws himself into teasing kisses. He’ll drown her in them, fill her with enough passion to bury promises never made but ever desired.

He growls, sucking bruises across her chest, groaning with every tug of his hair. She meets him measure for measure, giving and singing and making his name beautiful. She’s his sunny day, a comfort after storms, and despite everything, he feels that debt.

If this is to be the last time, he will make it the best.

Who needs dreams when he’s between her thighs, licking her silly? Who needs forever when he’s living eternity in her eyes, buried to the hilt in her heat. Only when she’s boneless, sated beyond her limits, does he stop. Only when he’s pleasured her every way he knows and enjoyed her every way he can stand.

He cleans her, thanking the swells and dips of her flesh for safe harbor as she drifts towards sleep. He rests with her. Holds her. Sends her back to sleep.

When she’s lost to the world, he rises.

The coffee, waiting patiently on the stove, tastes like home. He sips, watching her breathe, studying the sunlight and shadow tangling in her hair.

When he’s finished, he washes his cup and puts it back on the shelf.

He has no appetite when he returns to the ship. They set sail, and he watches the island shrink. It’s a small place in a big world, after all.

He avoids lunch, refuses dinner. When the booze comes out, he laughs, and talks, but he doesn’t accept a drop.

He goes to bed treasuring the lingering ghost of her coffee on his tongue.

------------------------------------------------------------

If he never says it, it isn’t true.

They’d sailed far away, and by the time he learned, the fires had burned out and the culprits had sailed away. Beckman stepped up to his captain when word first reached the crew, presenting the report. The first mate hadn’t even been smoking. Mourning his captain’s loss, perhaps. Acknowledging what couldn’t be said with all the gravity he could manage.

Now Shanks stands on ruined dock, cold ashes in his mouth carried by the wind – the last living thing in town.

If he doesn’t say it, it isn’t true, but he sees and hears and smells too much.

The townsfolk who didn’t burn in their homes had fled to the water. Crabs pick over families, the tavern keeper who most often hosted his crew, the gaggle of children who’d courted Monster’s affection with fruit and sweets. The monkey sits by them, petting their heads, groaning as the hair slides off their rotting scalps.

The pillagers left their Jolly Roger.

It’s tied like a cape around her neck, over the rope that suspends her from the cargo crane to welcome the island’s protector to its ruins.

He doesn’t say it, simply asks Beckman to cut the ropes as he gathers her in his arms. He sits on the dock so she can rest across his lap, against his chest, the way she did the first night he won her favor.

Matted blood has turned all her hair to shadow. Even the midday sun can’t bring it to life the way he remembers.

He reads her body. This is how he’s always found her pleasure, brought her to bliss. It takes understanding to share that kind of joy.

There’s no joy here.

Torture, pain, humiliation. A slow death, looking out to sea. Looking for –

“Captain.”

His crew has gathered the bodies they could find. Men carry shovels from the ship, digging new homes for old friends in the sand.

His commanders gather around him, grave as stone.

Beckman’s hand rests on his gun and he asks, “Orders?”

A wind blows in from the sea, and the ashes stir and rise. He sees lost souls in the haze. Imagines the other world where she’s gone is not so far at all.

He draws her in, cuddling her like the morning he left. Her skin isn’t right under his hands. Too dry. Too sticky. Too cold.

Her shirt is torn so all can read her crime, carved over her heart with knives.

Yonko’s whore.

It’s ugly. It’s wrong. It isn’t true, and he says it.

“She wasn’t.”

His commanders listen, taking his pain as theirs, letting the agony and guilt stew into something darker. Something useful.

“She wasn’t, you know.”

Lucky Roux answers for them all. “We know, Captain.”

He holds her close, chest ablaze, the world smearing with tears.

Beckman asks again, throwing his captain a lifeline, “Orders?”

The flag her killers left behind is all he needs to pursue justice. He hands the fabric to his first mate. It’s good enough.

His men give him space, but keep an eye. They’ll sharpen the blades and review their charts so the hunt is ready whenever he can bear to put her down. Set her in the earth.

He didn’t say goodbye.

He’d thought it would be kinder.

He still doesn’t want to say it.

But – well, what could it hurt now?

He stayed too long and loved too well.

He never said it, and it was true.

#fic: if he never says it #red haired shanks x reader #shanks x reader #shanks x you #one piece x reader #one piece fanfiction #angst #shanks x original character

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rosaemoux · 8 hours ago

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part two of my magic batman magical au, here's part one:

Ok so we last left off with Bruce grieving Jason Todd, swearing he'll never take in another apprentice and isolating himself from his clan, substantially weakening Gotham's defences against malicious mages while Barbara desperately tries to get a hold of the city. Dick is currently in between getting his life together in the sister city Bludhaven after helping his friends during multiple travels around the world when suddenly Haley's Circus comes into town.

That's where Tim Drake decides to do something. The only heir to a new money family, Tim's parents weren't mages, his dad had a basic understanding of time magic while his mom was relatively good with ilusory magic but they never pursuit it over the passion of their life, archeology. Tim, however, always loved magic, loved the way mages would make miracles out of the ordinary and loved the way it tested the impossible. Tim loved the Clan of The Bats. He always did, ever since he was a child and first saw the beauty of Haley's Circus, when he saw The Flying Graysons for the first time.

A Lonely Place of Dying goes about the same way, the same with Rite Of Passage, except when Bruce screamed that the water was poisonous, Jack managed to reverse time around him for a few seconds in a powerful fit of desperation to save Janet's life, not caring about actually reversing time for himself though. So, both of Tim's parents end up in coma, Tim, now accepted as Bruce's newest apprentices, moves into the manor and formally starts training.

Unfortunately, Tim doesn't have the early training of Dick, nor the raw talent of Jason, so he struggles finding an affinity. Bruce decides to send him on a three week trip to Paris to train with his old teachers, The Rahul Lama, hopefully to get a new perspective and find what he's comfortable with. He does spend two weeks trying his best but ultimately failing before he gets pulled into a full blown conspiracy.

Lady Shiva decides to train him while they're at it, and for some reason, something just clicks. Her methods and way of seeing magic just works really well with Tim. When their manhunt against Edmund Dorrance is done, Shiva finally gets a lead on something she's been searching for a while, and Tim tags along with her mission while she teaches the path of ilusory magic, of perceiving into someone's mind and changing it to your will. It just turns out that the something was actually someone...

Flash forward, we have exact the point in which the story starts, with Tim arriving into Gotham Harbor, two months late with a girl, apparently Lady Shiva's daughter who currently doesn't have a name. Bruce almost has a heart attack, both extremely relieved that Tim is safe but also it's been two months who is this-

Cassandra – as Barbara would go on to name her – was a mage prodigy, being trained since the moment she was born to be a perfect weapon by her father. She had a very good understanding of all attributes of magic, with amazing spatial awareness and downright telepathic intuitive perception, at the cost of no understanding of language. Shiva mentioned something about a League of Shadows, but Tim isn't really sure what it is exactly, just that they wanted Cass to join them, but after killing someone for the first time and accidentally stealing their soul, she started to run away from them, mostly living in the streets before a friend of Shiva's found her in Hong Kong. Her and Tim are mostly attached at the hip to each other, inseparable.

Bruce and Barbara decided it would be safer and less stressful for Cass if she lived in the Clocktower instead of having to live in the manor. Time mostly passes without many events after that, with most of their focus being to make sure Cass adjusts well to Gotham and find ways to communicate with her. That is, until Tim stalked one of Bruce's missions despite being benched and met – promptly being hit in the face by a brick – Stephanie Brown.

She was a self taught prodigy of time magic, daughter of a lesser death mage, she was hellbent on spoiling all of her father's plans. Bruce didn't really like her motivation to practice magic, and did his best to try to get her to give up.

Tim and Steph quickly became close to each other, and as weeks passed it became clear that she wasn't going to leave the streets of Gotham no matter what. Bruce was peer pressured by everyone in his life to also accept Steph as an apprentice and actually train her before she got really hurt.

And so, The House of The Bat got three new mage students from very different backgrounds. (I like to think the vibes of the story sometimes are very much like Witch's Hat Atelier) Considering that Barbara has a litteral wizard's tower, she's usually the one who's trying to make sure each one of them goes though their mage's journey safely. She's helping them get a understanding of magic and of their affinity, her classes are very challenging, but not impossible.

Tim leans into Ilusory magic – I think him and Bruce should get pretty similar magic, but while Bruce leans into deceiving, Tim likes to perceive and understand other's mind – Steph gets better and better in Time magic, and to complement the two, Cass starts to study Physical magic.

Just thinking of three mage apprentices running away from rogues, getting into trouble and taking down magical mobsters during the night and having to study grueling hours of torture with Barbara. Thinking of Dick abducting them to a impromptu practical class (Babs is going to murder him). Thinking of Bruce having to deal with three children and messing up so much.

Thinking of Stephanie's death and how hard it would affect Tim and Cass. Thinking of Tim finding a mysterious book in his birthday presents, one that's written in some parts in a cypher that uses a combination of mandarin and arabic he spends months trying to solve. It is a necromancy guide, gifted out of indulging the question of what the little bats would do with it. After all, you only need a basic ritual and a death mage with a soul under their name.

A soul for a soul, an equal exchange.

#batman #dc batman #barbara gordon #dick grayson #jason todd #tim drake #dc robin #robin 3 #red robin #batfam #cassandra cain #black bat #cassandra wayne #batgirl #stephanie brown #dc spoiler

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peachhcs · 1 day ago

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macklin asking only like a week after they see each other again to hang out and they go to the beach or something, something calm and quiet but something they missed

this was actually so so cutie to write :))) adding in more lore about blaire’s relationship with her brothers, so expect that to be a pretty big plot point and the way blaire is the way she is being so closed off and reserved sometimes

au masterlist

mack didn’t really know what too soon was but a little over a week after they saw one another again, they were going to the beach to hang out on one of mack’s days off. he figured the beach was good because they didn’t have to talk if they didn’t want to, but there were always good conversation starters around as people walked by. either way, blaire agreed to going to the beach with him and the brunette couldn’t be more excited.

he saw her in her car when he got there. she quickly waved when he pulled in next to her and the brunette flushed, returning her cute little grin. they met around the back of their cars after climbing out, “hi,” macklin smiled softly.

“hi. i haven’t been to the beach in so long, so i’m glad you suggested this. it’s such nice day,” blaire kicked her back hatch open to grab her beach bag and beach chair.

“i know, i can’t believe how nice it is for october,” he followed her lead down the beach.

“how was your game last night? i saw you guys finally had a win,” blaire glanced back at him and the boy’s face flushed at the idea of her watching his game.

“it was really good actually. our first win of the season, so it felt really nice.”

blaire found them a spot halfway down the beach where there weren’t a lot of people around. the two set their chairs up next to one another. blaire dug into her bag to find her sunscreen. “you want any?” she asked mack.

“i should probably put some on,” he laughed a bit.

“right, you burn so easily,” a giggle slipped past her lips making mack blush. she remembered so many little details about him that he thought she would’ve definitely forgot after two years.

he watched her (not in a creepy way) apply her sunscreen. when she reached her back the boy flushed thinking she was gonna ask him to help get her upper shoulders and he was right because she did, “i can’t reach the awkward middle. can you?”

mack, who tried not letting his nerves show, stepped forward and gently rubbed it into the girl’s skin. it was kind of strange to him being so relaxed around one another after literally not talking or seeing each other for two years, but mack wasn’t complaining. he was actually glad blaire still felt so comfortable around him despite them literally breaking up (and possibly finding their way back to one another.)

“i think i got it all,” the brunette mumbled, dropping his hands back to his sides.

“thank you. want me to get you?” blaire quickly offered.

now rubbing her sunscreen in for her was one thing, but her doing it for him was completely different because mack didn’t know if he’d be able to even function properly when her hands touched his bare skin.

“sure,” he said nonetheless and pulled his shirt off.

the cream was cool against his skin, he squirmed at first, but relaxed the more blaire eased her fingers into the divots of his back.

“so what else has been new with you besides becoming a big shot hockey player?” her tone had a teasing edge to it like how they used to talk to one another when they were 15. it was a good thing she couldn’t see mack’s embarrassing red blush.

“not a lot, i guess. hockey’s been taking up most of time since august,” the boy shrugged lightly.

“yeah, same with figure skating. we have competitions every weekend. when i’m not doing that i’m studying,” the girl agreed.

“you were really good the other day, by the way. i mean you’ve always been good, but..wow. i was impressed,” mack confessed and he wondered if blaire was blushing because she didn’t respond right away.

“thanks, celly. that means a lot,” blaire finally responded, her voice soft.

she moved her hand away from his back and he took that as her cue that she was done. he spun back around, meeting her soft gaze as she handed him the rest of the sunscreen.

“because we’re here you have to play mermaids with me later,” blaire grinned widely and the hockey player laughed.

“okay, deal. i love mermaids,” they shared a laugh and macklin applied the rest of his sunscreen.

for now, the two just sat out on their chairs tanning and people watching. they’d occasionally point out people walking by, but for the most part, they just caught up. the conversation flowed like they never spent any time apart. macklin talked about his year at boston university and blaire told him about her freshman year at santa clara. it sounded like both had really good years.

that feeling macklin’s had since he first saw blaire last week continued growing as the day went on. his chest tightened and exploded each time her eyes lit up when telling him a funny story from freshman year.

it was pretty obvious he’s never been over her. as much as he tried moving on and finding other girls, something always drew him back to blaire like maybe they’d reconnect one day and reconcile whatever happened between them—and surprise, surprise, he was getting that chance. the young rookie was not letting her go this time.

“how are your siblings?” blaire shifted the subject to him, feeling bad she’s done so much talking about her life and hardly asking him about his.

“they’re good. aiden’s playing hockey at boston still. rj’s playing for a little league team and charlie’s doing tennis still,” macklin explained his siblings’ whereabouts.

“i’m glad to hear they’re all doing good. carter and mason are pretty good, too. carter’s finishing high school and mason’s a senior at university of washington,” blaire hummed and macklin could hear the crack in her voice. he always knew she never had a very close relationship with her brothers because of everything that happened with their mom.

“wow, a senior already?” the rookie chuckled.

“tell me about it. he’s moving to ireland once he graduates. he found a crazy good job and he wants to be abroad for awhile,” blaire continued.

“ireland? that’s crazy. good for him.”

“yeah, it is crazy. carter’s pretty sad about it, but he’s gonna do good,” the dirty blonde hummed, her fingers tapping against the armrest of the chair. even though she didn’t say it, mack knew her better than that. he knew she was also sad about it.

“how are you feeling?” he dared to ask.

there was a pause and the boy quickly worried her overstepped by asking. “okay..i guess,” she was vague which mack expected. he wondered if he should push for more, but he didn’t wanna test his luck considering they just started talking again.

blaire kept talking though, “it kind of feels like he’s leaving because he doesn’t wanna be around us anymore though. even though our mom dying was like seven years ago, it still really affects all of us i think. mostly because none of us really processed it right, but i don’t know. mason’s never been the same since. he like hardly wants anything to do with carter and i. me specifically.”

“shit, i’m sorry. that really sucks,” mack sympathized but blaire shrugged. “it’s fine. i can’t really do anything about it. i just try not to think about it.”

a silence fell around them after that discussion. macklin stared out at the beach, suddenly grateful that at least his siblings were somewhat close even and family was still together even though attention got really divided sometimes.

“hey, i think i wanna get in the water now. you up for mermaids?” blaire stood up, clearly trying to break the tension she just created. mack smiled.

“of course,” he grinned and threw his towel off him.

he watched her slip out of her tank top and shorts, his breath hitching when he saw her in nothing but her bikini. he adverted his gaze when she looked back at him, a blush coating his cheeks. “race you?” she smirked.

macklin didn’t even get a chance to respond before she started racing towards the water. he quickly chased after her, some of the other people on the beach giving them a side eye for being so rambunctious. blaire had a pretty big lead and successfully made it into the water before mack could catch her. she dove right in, the cool water feeling good on her warm skin.

mack dove in after her. they came back up at the same time, shaking their wet hair out. “it feels so nice. i miss coming to the beach,” blaire grinned and dipped her head back.

she pushed back so she was floating on her back like a starfish. mack admired her again. the sun was reflecting off the water and onto her skin perfectly that it looked like she was glowing. she hadn’t even changed a bit—still looking like the same girl he fell in love with when they were fifteen.

they played mermaids for a good half hour which just consisted of them splashing one another and diving under the waves. they hurried back up to the beach with pruny skin, grabbing their towels to dry themselves off.

“so what are the chances you could get me tickets to your next home game?” blaire wondered as she squeezed her hair out. mack’s gaze flicked to hers, a look of surprise on his features.

“you wanna come to one of my games?”

“well, yeah. i wanna see you on the big rink with the big guys,” blaire grinned and mack was pretty sure his heart exploded right then and there.

“i can see what i can do, but chances are high,” the boy smiled back.

“good because i really wanna come. i already have an outfit in mind,” she cheesed and there was no way mack wasn’t getting her back.

the two packed up their things for the day and trudged back up towards the parking lot. mack helped blaire load her chain into her car before the two awkwardly stood in the parking lot wondering when their next hang out would be and what this was going to mean for their friendship moving forward.

“this was really fun, thanks for coming,” blaire said first.

“of course. i had a lot of fun too. we should do it again,” he smiled.

“literally just text me, i’m freeish..well, i’ll just tell you when i’m free, but it’s been really good getting to see you again. i’ve missed this,” the girl admitted shyly.

“me too. i’ve missed seeing you. i will definitely text you and let you know about the next game,” he opened his arms for a hug. blaire quickly reciprocated, stepping into his embrace that smelled like sand, salt water, and remnants of sunscreen.

“get back safe,” mack said when they pulled apart. blaire nodded and they finally got back into their cars where mack couldn’t stop smiling like an idiot.

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