#currently laying on the sofa incapable to move

[icharchivist]

for the record, sorry i’m not ignoring my asks rn but my brain is really not computing atm (rough day, very hard time thinking clearly) so i prefer to answer the asks once i’m in a better brain situation

just to make sure that if i reblog a few things the people i’m leaving on read know i’m going to get to those a little later o7 thank you for your understanding

[gcthamqueen]

late night rendezvous.

Elnia gets a late night visitor to her apartment looking for a place to lay low in the wake of his escape from the Jedi - Cad Bane x OC

Author’s Note - because I am chronically incapable of writing anything in chronological order, this is set somewhere in Elnia’s timeline after she and Cad have known and worked with each other for long enough to develop enough of a sense of trust for Cad to decide to hide out in her apartment. And also this whole scene is a thing because as impressive as it is for him to resist a Force interrogation from three of the strongest Jedi in the order, I don’t believe for a second it didn’t leave some lingering effects behind given it was explicitly stated that if they pushed Cad too far, he could lose his mind.

Also don’t ask where he got his hat and blasters back from after escaping Mace and Obi Wan, he felt naked without them 😂

— — — — —

There’s been enough buzz throughout Coruscant’s underworld about something going down at the Jedi temple to have vaguely piqued Elnia’s interest, even with the almost laughably heavy handed way the Jedi seemed to have tried to clamp down on the rumors. Her current planning for the latest job had been more than enough for the fuss to only briefly register on her agenda for the evening, but the last thing she had been expecting was to be jolted out of sleep to the presence of someone else in her apartment through the Force.

Reaching for her lightsaber, she carefully slipped out of bed and silently padded to the door, taking a deep breath to center herself before igniting the blade and stepping out into the main living room ready to attack, only to be met by a familiar tall figure in an unmistakable hat. She couldn’t help but come up short as her half asleep mind finally registered who her unexpected guest was, the Duros’ own hand on his blaster at the sound of the door opening.

“...Bane?”

For the briefest of moments, she thinks he looks almost guilty, before he smirks and the hand on his blaster moves to tip his hat at her.

“Evenin’, lil lady.”

“What in the name of the Winged Goddess are you doing in my apartment?” Elnia asked, turning off her saber and setting it on a side table.

“Need somewhere t’ lay low fer a few days, if you’re amenable.”

“How do you even know I have a place on Coruscant?” she sighed, before shaking her head, “Wait; don’t answer that. I was one of your bounties, of course you know where I live on planet. What were you even going to do if I wasn’t here?”

“Was hopin’ you wouldn’t be, t’ tell the truth.”

“Well, isn’t it nice knowing my one time bounty hunter’s decided my real estate makes for a good bolt hole,” she replied, moving over to her drinks cabinet, “Would’ve thought you had your own little hideaways to retreat to.”

“I did,” the venom in Bane’s voice is enough to make her pause in pouring the Zeltron whiskey, flicking her eyes back to the bounty hunter now on her couch, “Lost my station t’ the karking Jedi.”

“…oh so you’re the one who’s got the temple running around like a flock of headless tip-yip,” Elnia laughed as she moved back over to hand him the drink, “Guess I should have suspected as much.”

“Y’ heard about that quick,” he replied as she perched on the arm of the sofa.

“I wouldn’t be a very good merc if I didn’t keep an eye on the temple now and again, would I? Jedi don’t particularly take kindly to those who don't follow their chosen Force dogma.”

“Sounds like y’got personal experience.”

“Buy me a drink sometime to thank me for crashing on my couch and I might tell you the story,” she grinned, “Now, you are welcome to stay Bane, but I am going back to bed.”

As she returned to her bedroom, she climbed up to sit cross-legged in the middle of her bed to refocus her awareness of the Force to accommodate her unexpected guest, yet as she reached out towards Bane, she was met with a wall of defensive anger that felt like…the first thing that came to mind had been when she had been forced to hide in the jungles of her home world as a child while Gorgara had been hunting nydak, the defiant roars of the chirodactyl’s prey the closest thing she could compare his Force signature to. And she knew fine well what he normally felt like, cool and collected even in moments like when they had first met and she’d done her damndest to take his head off. And hearing that he’d been the one responsible for whatever had gone down at the Jedi temple…

Slipping back from the bed, she stepped into the doorway of her bedroom again, pausing before she decided to talk.

“Bane?”

“Hmm?” was the only response from the lanky figure sprawled out on her sofa, hat tipped down to cover his eyes.

“Did the Jedi try and interrogate you before you got away?”

Even in the dark, she could feel the intensity of his gaze as he reached to move his hat and look at her.

“Now why would’ja be askin’ a question like that, lil lady?”

“Cause your energy in the Force is all kriffed off and roaring at me like a cornered nydak,” she replied matter of factly, “You’re never normally that angry. Plus you doing something to annoy the temple enough for you to lose your station? Seems like a pretty logical conclusion that they tried to interrogate you for whatever job you were working on.”

“What are you anglin’ at?”

“I can fix whatever mess they left behind.”

“You’re not gettin’ in my head,” the forceful way he responded to her sent another wave of angry energy towards her, snapping at her subconscious like a cornered animal. If Elnia hadn’t been certain of his Force interrogation before, she definitely was now.

“I’m not going to make you do anything you don’t want me to, but you’ve seen what I can do to the minds of people who are resisting my influence. Getting rid of something that shouldn’t be there in the first place if you allowed me to wouldn’t take much effort at all.”

In one move, Bane stood up from where he had been sprawled, stalking across the apartment to get up in her space, crimson eyes scrutinizing her face as she looked up at him. He’d seen her handiwork before, so she simply stared back and allowed him to decide for himself if he wanted to accept the offer.

“...that’s all y’want?”

“I have no interest in poking around in your memories. I’m not a kriffing Jedi,” she replied, an amused smile curling the corners of her mouth at his suspicion, “But if it makes you feel better, I won’t even put you under for it, so if you want to tell me to stop, I will.”

“...fine.”

“Good. Now we’ve agreed on that, go lie down on the carpet while I get what I need.”

“What?”

“You’re too damn tall for us both to fit on the sofa, Bane,” she replied with a grin, “And you don’t get into my bed without buying me dinner first.”

Turning back to the bedroom, Elnia headed to the cupboard where she kept much of the equipment she had left Dathomir with, pulling a waterskin and a shallow wooden bowl from the footlocker before returning to the sight of Bane standing awkwardly in the middle of the living room. Settling cross-legged onto her icewolf pelt rug, she turned to pull one of her side tables closer to set the bowl down before unscrewing the waterskin and pouring the Waters of Life into it, a pale green light emanating from the liquid as she looked up at Cad.

“I’m not going to make you drink it, if that’s what you’re grimacing about. The Waters are for me, not you. Now, come on. Head in my lap.”

Fixing her with a distinct expression of annoyance, she only shrugged at him.

“I’m fixing your head, aren’t I?”

Moving to lie down as told, Elnia allowed Bane to get as comfortable as he was going to before moving one of her hands over the bowl, closing her eyes for a moment as she started to chant in Dathomiri as she began drawing on the energies of the Waters. Beneath her fingers, she drew a ball of green energy into existence before directing it to drift around her head. Bane was still tensed up so as she continued, she moved her hands to either side of his head, gently pressing her fingers to massage into his temples.

As much as he’d been reticent to allow Elnia into his head, the soft green light of the swirling magick, combined with her soft chanting and the gentle steady pressure of her fingertips managed to lull him into such a sense of relaxation, he couldn’t help but let out a low rumble of satisfaction.

“…are you purring?”

“Kark off, witch,” he grumbled, cracking open an eye to idly reach up and swat at Elnia, her own hand darting up to lightly rap his knuckles before he got close despite still having her eyes closed.

“Ah, so I’m a witch now, am I?,” she grinned, “And here I thought you liked me.”

“Awful presumptuous of ya.”

“Besides, I didn’t claim it was a bad thing,” she continued, one of her hands moving to cup his cheek at the odd angle as she leaned down above him, pale face framed by her loose silver hair. The ball of green light had now created something of a halo around her head, and as she opened her eyes, their usual silver was replaced by that same misty green which did little to hide the distant gaze that seemed to bore into his very soul at the same time, “It means you’re relaxed enough for me to do this.”

Before he could question it, Cad was suddenly struck by a sensation all too similar to the invasive interrogation of the Jedi, yet rather than their bullish probing, the only thing that he could picture was a big cat like those he had encountered on other planets, silent but ruthlessly effective in hunting down their prey. He’d barely even noticed her pressing forward into his mind, save for the sudden disorientating sensation of no longer being alone in his head.

What seemed to rise up to meet her was a chorus of whispering voices, the same phrase the Jedi had used in interrogating him swirling around his head in a near maddening cacophony.

You will take us to the holocron, you will take us to the holocron, youwilltakeustotheholocronandyouwilltakeus -

Before the sentence could end, Elnia struck, pulling the magick around the echoing impressions of the Jedi’s Force signatures like a snare. As she pulled her hand away from Bane’s face, a green web of energy coiled around what appeared to be a glowing cloud drew away with her fingers before she flicked it away into nothing, the light of her magick dying out with it.

“Well, that worked.”

As Elnia leaned back with a hiss, Bane sat up to regard her, and as she blinked back into awareness of the world around her, he realized that the sclera of her left eye had gone black with a popped blood vessel from the effort, a bead of dark blood oozing from her nose that she quickly wiped away with the back of her hand.

“Y’ sure?”

“You tell me. Any guests who’ve overstayed their welcome still knocking around in that head of yours?”

“I guess not,” he replied after focusing for a moment.

“Told you, Cad,” she smiled ruefully, “I’m very good at what I do.”

[angelofrainfrogs]

Everything Has Its Place

Fandom: Good Omens

Pairing: Aziraphale/Crowley

Description: In which Crowley naps, Aziraphale tries to be smooth, and they are both very much in love.

Rating: G

Genre: General/Romance/Humor

Read on Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20142274

Everything Has Its Place

“Really, dear?”

A yellow eye cracked open at the sound of Aziraphale’s voice. Crowley saw the angel standing over him, hands on hips and wearing an adorable pout (though Crowley would rather dip his toes in holy water then admit the “adorable” opinion to anyone but Aziraphale himself).

“Hi, Angel,” the demon replied, mouth widening into a languid smile as he stretched his arms high above his head.

“I was organizing those books, you know.” Aziraphale pointed to the pile of old books haphazardly scattered on the floor near the couch Crowley currently lay upon. The demon glanced at the pile, then back up at Aziraphale.

“They were on my napping sofa,” he replied with a shrug.

“They were on my reading sofa!” Aziraphale gave an annoyed huff, making a corner of Crowley’s mouth twitch into an amused smirk. “If you wanted to rest, there’s a perfectly comfortable bed upstairs.”

“Yeah, but it’s warmer down here; there’s that new electric fireplace you finally installed.”

And there’s you, Crowley’s eyes said softly, gazing into Aziraphale’s. The angel let out a gentle sigh, knowing he could never fight against the love that Crowley was giving off- purposefully tender, Aziraphale thought, in an effort to quell the angel’s frustration with him.

An effort that, as usual, was working perfectly.

“Oh, you old serpent,” Aziraphale said with a roll of his eyes, bending over to place a light kiss on Crowley’s forehead. “The next time you move any books, can you please keep them in their respective piles, dear?”

“Certainly,” the demon responded, extending the “s” sound as he shifted into a standing position. His smiled widened into a bigger grin. “I can do something even better.”

With a snap of fingers, the books on the floor miracled themselves back onto the couch, stacked just as they had been before Crowley disarrayed them a few hours before. Aziraphale blinked, face lighting up in surprise as he examined the columns of text.

“You remembered where they all were?” the angel asked, sounding amazed. Crowley chuckled and gave another shrug.

“Of course, Angel. I’ll never forget the last time I moved something out of place around here- you locked me out for two days while you made sure everything was as it should be.”

“Oh… Right.” Aziraphale shifted his gaze to the floor guiltily. “I said I was-”

“Don’t apologize again; you know I’m over it.”

Aziraphale glanced up at the demon and raised an eyebrow. “Are you?”

“Yes.” Crowley gestured to the books on the couch. “My point is, I’ll put everything back where it belongs from now on. Alright?”

“Oh, that’s… good. Thank you, love.”

The changes in Crowely’s being were too minute for a human to notice- his toothy grin slipping into a docile smile, shoulders relaxing ever-so-slightly, posture slouching more than usual. However, being much more than human, Aziraphale was perfectly aware of how his demon melted at the pet name.

With a snap of perfectly-manicured fingers, the stacks of books moved to Aziraphale’s desk, ready to be sorted and put on the bookshelves for customers to unwisely attempt to purchase. Crowley tilted his head questioningly as the angel sat at one end of the sofa and patted his lap.

“You said you would put everything where it belongs,” Aziraphale said, face turning a light shade of pink as he spoke. “Well, as we’ve established, we belong with each other so… please, feel free to continue your rest with me by your side.”

Crowley merely stared at the angel, his face incapable of settling on one expression. Uncomfortable with the demon’s scrutiny, Aziraphale absentmindedly plucked at the hem of his waistcoat, gazed fixed on the sofa’s armrest, the redness on his face darkening as the seconds ticked by. Eventually, Crowley threw his head back and let out a barking laugh.

“Angel, I love you, but you are not destined to be a smooth-talker,” the demon said. Aziraphale glared up at him, embarrassed and mildly offended.

“You’re certainly one to talk! You get flustered when I call you lo-”

“Excuse you, I’m much more adept at that sort of thing- it’s in my demonic make-up. Gotta have the skills to induce temptations, you know.”

“Oh, yes, of course.” Aziraphale rolled his eyes, automatically lifting his hands away from his lap as Crowley fell onto the couch next to him. The angel began carding his hands through Crowley’s hair as the demon settled himself into a comfortable position, using Aziraphale’s thigh as a pillow. Within minutes, all the tension in Crowley’s body disappeared and he drifted right back into the nap he’d been rudely woken up from.

“Silly old serpent,” Aziraphale murmured softly, amused at how easily Crowley could fall asleep. Grabbing the nearest book- in Aziraphale’s shop, there always seemed to be a text just within reach- the angel settled down to read.

They stayed like that while the sun and moon made a full rotation through the sky- Aziraphale reading silently, casually switching out a completed book for a few one, gently running his fingers through Crowley’s hair as the demon slept peacefully. Neither of them thought to move, for they were both where they belonged- by each other’s side until the end of time.

[changji]

before and now

◊ pairings: hwang hyunjin | reader, bang chan | reader

◊ genre: angst, college au

◊ word count: 2.1k

◊ warnings: implied cheating

◊ summary: you were in love and so was he. but not all relationships work out.

italics is a memory, written in letter format

Dear Hwang Hyunjin,

After some thinking, I decided that this toxic relationship needed closure.

Proper closure.

Okay, actually, it was my boyfriend who decided that I needed closure. I thought it was the stupidest idea anyone’s ever come up with, but in the end, I caved.

I swear I’m not trying to trash you or become the clingy ex-girlfriend that nobody likes, or trying to talk shit about the things you’ve done.

I just wanted to get these words off my chest, to say them to you.

I’ll never forget how you came up to me on the first day of uni, how nervous you looked, how scared you seemed. You asked to sit next to me, and from then, a pretty great relationship (well, until it crashed and failed).

“Hi, is anyone sitting here?” A boy gave you a small smile. Glancing up, you smiled and shook your head, inviting him to sit down.

“I’m (Y/N).”

“I’m Hyunjin.”

I’ll never forget how you looked past my weird attitude on our first date.

“God, I’m so sorry.” Grabbing a napkin, you began to furiously wipe at the brown coffee stain on his shirt.

Laughing, Hyunjin pushed your hand away from his shirt, held it in his own, and wiped the stain himself. “It’s okay.”

I’ll never forget our first kiss.

Tilting your neck, you peered up into Hyunjin’s eyes. “Thank you for taking me out.” Stepping closer to you, he smiled, showing off his infamous grin.

“I’d be happy to go out with you again.” Slinging his arms around your waist, he swooped down to place a peck on your lips. “See you tomorrow.”

He kissed you again and left you standing in front of your door with a starry eyed look.

I’ll never forget how we weren’t just dating, but we were more. I called you my boyfriend and you called me your girlfriend, and no one questioned it.

“Who’s that?” Jisung pointed his chin in your direction after too many (not so) discrete stares at each other.

Giving him a dazed look, Hyunjin turned his eyes back to you and smiled. “That’s my girlfriend.”

I’ll never forget the first time you said ‘I love you.’

Twirling around the living room with a mop, you laughed as Hyunjin slid around on a towel.

“What exactly is it that you’re doing?”

“I’m helping you clean.”

Suppressing your smile, you listened to the light music playing in the background. “Really? That’s real nice of you.”

“It’s my job as your boyfriend. Along with loving you of course.”

“What?”

“I love you.”

I’ll never forget any time you said ‘I love you.’

You and Hyunjin lay on the sofa, you trapped between his body and the back cushion.

“You’re really cute.” Your cheeks turned a light shade of pink as you buried your face into his chest. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

I’ll never forget how every moment I spent with you, you somehow managed to make my day brighter. .

Trudging down the halls of your apartment building, you lugged the textbooks and countless of assignments your professors has thrown at you.

“Boo!” Hands suddenly found their in front of your eyes. Grinning at the warmth, you found yourself sinking into his embrace, dropping the bags you held.

“Welcome back.”

I’ll also never forget our first real fight after you kissed that Soojin at the Christmas party.

“Don’t misunderstand it, it was nothing.”

“I saw you kiss her! Don’t lie to me!”

“I’m not lying to you! Goddamnit, listen to me for once in your life!” Your glare pierced his soul, and realizing the words that escaped his lips, he stopped, tucking his shoulders into his body as if he could fold himself into a small ball.

“I’ll see you at home.”

How we spent the night in bed, both faced away from each other.

“Still not gonna talk to me?” Hyunjin stared at your back, desperation laced in his voice, silently begging you to turn away from the wall.

“Hm.” You still didn’t budge. He sighed, sitting on the bed and brushing your hair away from your bare shoulder to plant a kiss there.

“I love you. Don’t forget that.”

And I’ll never forget how you started drifting away from me when you suddenly changed your major halfway through our second year.

“I switched to fine arts. With Soojin, you know her.”

“Oh, you dropped business?”

“I just said that. Anyway, we already have a project due soon.”

“We?”

“Me and Soojin. See you later. I love you.”

I’ll never forget how seeing each other every day turned into seeing each other once a week.

“Hyunjin, are you coming home tonight?”

“No, sorry. Me and Soojin have a really important thing to do tonight.

“But-”

“I’m sorry, babe, but it’s celebrating getting a 93 percent on our final. I’ll see you,” The line went dead.

“But… it’s our anniversary.”

How talking all the time turned into talking only when needed.

“Hey, do you wanna go out for dinner tonight?” He didn’t notice the desperation in your tone.

“Ah, I’m busy. I can’t,” Hyunjin smiled, albeit slightly forced. On his way out the door he picked up his phone, saying the name you were starting to despise. “Soojin? Yeah, I’m almost there.”

When texting every hour turned into texts being unanswered.

Sender: (Y/N)

Receiver: Hyunjin

Hey, you didn’t answer my texts. Are we still up for our date tonight?”

Sender: Hyunjin

Receiver: (Y/N)

I’m busy. Sorry.

When cuddling every night turned into your side of the bed being cold and empty almost every single damn night.

You pulled the covers closer to your body, tears staining your face as you stared at the door, waiting for it to open, and for him to come home.

He never did.

How waking up to your face turned into a loud, blaring alarm.

You opened your eyes to the loud screeching of the alarm, the lingering scent of Hyunjin’s cologne left on his pillow, indicating that he was there sometime throughout the night.

But he still didn’t wake up with you.

When eating dinner together every evening turned into uneaten food, wrapped and placed in the fridge.

Cooking for him never brought a smile to your face like it used to. Your food was turning bland, getting simpler with smaller portions. Your face was always kept straight as you stuffed a few spoonfuls of food into your mouth, the taste you longed for no longer there. His plate would be wrapped away and stored away into the fridge.

Yours was dumped into the trash.

How over-exaggerated paragraphs turned into one or two word sentences.

“Will I see you tonight?”

“No,” and he just left.

How “I love you” was directed to her, and not me.

You sat on the couch, motionless as you watched Hyunjin open the door back to the apartment. His smile was wide and his face was practically glowing. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Soojin. Love you, take care,” he walked into the room, closing the door behind him.

Never glancing at you.

How you strung me along for a few months, making me believe you still loved me while everyone around me knew that it was her you were dating.

“Who’s that?” Jisung asked after Soojin just left, but not before hugging Hyunjin and pecking him on the cheek.

“She’s my girlfriend.”

“And (Y/N)?”

Hyunjin shrugged.

I’ll never forget how stupid I felt when I saw your texts to her, completely disregarding me and everything we’ve been through. For her.

Sender: Soojin

Receiver: Hyunjin

Are u with (Y/N)? Wanna come over?

Sender: Soojin

Receiver: Hyunjin

I can cancel I’ll be over soon.

I’ll never forget the pain you put me through, Hwang Hyunjin. People told not to fall for your charms, because underneath that is so much more. Thinking back, I was the most stubborn person alive, and I stupidly decided to ignore them, because I believed that you would change for me.

I was wrong, and I almost lost myself in our relationship.

Surprisingly, the person that I least expected took me to his hometown. He showed me his roots, where he grew up, how he grew up, the little cafe his parents own, his childhood bedroom. He wasn’t afraid to love me for who I am, to show me off. He helped me find myself when I was incapable of doing it alone. He showed me that I am worth it.

More importantly, he showed me that you’re everything I can live my life without.

Now, you might be wondering what the point of this letter is, but the truth is: you lost something great.

Do whatever you like with the people you want, but trust me. Eventually? You’re going to realize you want it all back.

You’ll want to see me everyday, like he does.

“Hey, come here.” his voice was low and slurred, full or grogginess seeing as how he just woke up. Moving into the living room from the kitchen, you sat yourself on the arm of the couch, raking your hands through his, currently, platinum blonde hair. Curling himself back up, he pressed his face against your thigh, dozing off to the feeling of your fingers running through his scalp.

You’ll want to talk to me every hour of the day, like he does.

“(Y/N)?” you were walking through the campus gripping tightly onto his hand, looking for places you haven’t been before, which was probably over half the campus.

“Hm?”

“Did you know that the sun is 93 million miles away from us?”

You’ll want my texts, the one he gets.

Sender: (Y/N)

Receiver: My Love

Make sure to eat!!!!

Sender: My Love

Receiver: (Y/N)

You too! I’ll be home at 6

You’ll want my cuddles, the ones you missed out on.

Feeling your body being pulled back to someone’s chest, you rose an eyebrow to him, despite him not being able to see you. Turning yourself around, you buried your face into the crook of his neck, feeling him nuzzle his nose into your hair. He exhaled, loving the feeling of you wrapped up in his arms.

You could stay like this forever.

You’ll want to wake up to my face, the view he gets every morning.

You woke up to someone stroking your face and hair being moved away from your neck. Opening your eyes, you stared up lovingly at him, cuddling more into his touch.

“Good morning.”

You’ll want how I made dinner for you everyday, like I do for him.

“Is that clay pot chicken rice?” his deep voice rumbled throughout the room, barey rising over the sizzling of food on the stove. Turning around, you beamed at him, smile making his whole day.

“Yeah! Your favorite, then we can go watch a movie or go to your studio or something.”

Smiling, he walked over to you and slung his arms around your waist, kissing your neck. “I’d like that very much.”

You’ll want my long, over-exaggerated paragraphs, like he gets.

Sender: (Y/N)

Receiver: My Love

Remember to eat okay? I might show up late tonight, so make sure you get some rest and keep yourself hydrated, AND DON’T HOLE YOURSELF UP IN THE STUDIO. I’ll have someone watching you, okay? Since I probably won’t see my beautiful, sexy, handsome, boyfriend til late tonight or tomorrow, I hope you can feel my love through this! Love you!!!!!

Sender: My Love

Receiver: (Y/N)

Okay! Don’t overwork yourself and don’t spend the whole night working on your essay. Love you see you tonight

You’ll want my hugs, like he gets.

Deeply inhaling his scent, you shuddered when a hand came around you to rest on your back. Attempting to pull yourself back, you found yourself being brought closer to his chest, a deep whine rumbling from his chest.

“Just a few minutes.”

You’ll want my kisses, like he gets.

Pulling him against you, you grinned when he placed his lips against yours. Trailing away from your mouth, his lips placed gentle kisses along your cheeks to your jawline.

“That tickles!”

“I don’t care.” Only to continue pressing kisses to your skin.

You’ll want me to say “I love you,”  like how he hears it.

“Hey.”

“Yes?”

“I love you.”

Hell, you’ll want my love, how he has it.

“I don’t know what I’d do without you, honestly.” your voice was slightly muffled, due to the fact that your scarf was pulled up to your mouth.

“I don’t know what you’d do without me either.”

“Hey-”

“But I’m happy you’re here. I love you.”

“I love you too, Chan.”

You’ll want me.

But when the time comes, you will always be too late.

I’ll never be yours again.

And trust me, you’ll want everything back.

From,

(L/N) (Y/N)

a/n: god this is so bad lol thanks for reading

[thejokersenigma]

Loki Laufeyson x Reader - Oneshot - Drunken Care

This was just a random idea I had, so thought - despite the shear number of requests and series parts I have to write - I would give a go whilst I still have the inspiration for it!

I know I’ve been writing a lot of Loki lately (I’m just really into his character at the moment) but I promise I’ll work on some other characters now! (Though I’m bound to throw more Loki in, so for those who are only here for him, don’t worry! haha)

Let me know if you want to be tagged in anything!

REQUESTS ARE ALWAYS OPEN

MAIN MASTERLIST

When Loki manually pulled open the usually automatic sliding doors, his face was rather unimpressed at the sight that greeted him on the other side.

You were stood between two rather large policeman, each with their hands firmly gripping your upper arms as though, between them, they had dragged you to the doorway. Loki also noted that the two men seem to be largely supporting your weight, as though your own legs were incapable of the task, and a plain white ceramic mug hung from one of your hands.

Judging by your condition, he was surprised it seemed to be in one piece.

“Good evening, sir.” One of the uniformed officers greeted Loki as the god’s eyes roamed over the scene, furrowing his brow in question. The policeman now eyed Loki up and down, some recognition in his eyes that made him frown. “Do you live here?”

“I’m inside the building, aren’t I?” Loki growled, already thoroughly unimpressed by the Midgardian’s law enforcement.

The policeman didn’t look wholly convinced, eying the tall, pale man warily, but let it slide, now nodding down to where you stood. “This young lady here, insists she lives in the Avenger tower.” The officer explained.

“She does, does she?” Loki questioned, raising a brow at you, a devious look in his eyes which promised trouble should he choose to act on it. You, however, seemed completely oblivious to it, too concerned, it seemed, with weakly attempting to wrestle your arms from the authorities grasp.  “And what… Exactly is wrong with the lady?” Loki now asked coolly, a bemused teasing look, his eyes remaining on you, able quite clearly to see what the cause of your condition was.

“We found her wandering the streets, sir,” One of the men informed him, “She appears to be highly inebriated.” He explained in a disproving tone.

“I am not – um not – inebree – inbreei – ineb… I’m not drunk!” You cried stubbornly, yanking on your arms more violently now where they were still held. “Check my mug!” You exclaimed, “Look!”  You shoved the mug into the officers’ face and then towards Loki. “It’s water! Taste it!”

“It maybe water now, Miss, but your breath count is off the scale.” The man on your right explained to you gruffly, then turned back to Loki. “At first, we presumed she was lying about her address, but her ID checks out. Do you know this woman?”

Loki regarded you with his cold calculating eyes. He could deny it - given your current condition it might do you good to spend an evening in a Midgardian cell. Loki was largely unfamiliar with procedure when detained by the general Midgardian authorities, but a little light torturing might teach you a lesson… Then again, Thor at the very least, would likely wring his neck if he turned you away in your state – and he was bound to find out - let alone what the remainder of the ‘Avengers team’ would do.

Besides, you did seem to have an almost stubborn puppy-like look to you at the moment which had him rethinking his wish to cause you trouble. “Sadly, yes.” He sighed eventually, “You may release her over to me, I can take over her care from here.” He muttered reluctantly, his face expressionless and showing no sign of the ‘care’ he spoke of.

You stumbled slightly as you went to cross the threshold the minute the police released you, Loki replaced their firm grip on your arm to assure you stayed upright. The officers nodded their parting goodnights - even wishing Loki luck with you, which didn’t fill him with confidence - then they turned back to their cruiser where it was parked behind them. Loki closed the glass doors on their retreating back, turning to where he held you as you tipped your mug back, half of the water somehow managing to spill out and down your chin and onto your sleeve rather than into your mouth. “Opps…” You gasped, then giggled at yourself, wiping wiping your mouth with your damp sleeve and Loki watched you in disbelief. “Want some?” You asked happily, holding out the mug.

“I’d rather not.” Loki muttered, releasing your arm and moving past you back towards the elevator and his room. His duty for the night was done, he had played his part, and no one could blame him for what happened to you now.

“Wait, no! Don – Don’t go!” You cried, spinning around and tripping over your own legs, throwing out your arms to catch yourself, the liquid slopping over the side of your cup. “Don – Don’ leave me!” You pouted pathetically, “Everyone’s left me toniiight!” You whined.

Loki didn’t stop though, “You do remember they have left for a so-called ‘mission’, yes?” He called back over his shoulder.

“But they left me!” You persisted.

Loki paused now in exasperation, glancing back at you. “Because you’re injured.” Loki reminded you, his eyes flickering to your wounded shoulder for a moment, the bandage clear through your strappy vest, stained and ruined with a dark colour - though you didn’t seem at all aware of any pain from it.

“I’m a techy!” You exclaimed, throwing your arms up in the air wildly, “All I do is sit at a desk!” You cried and, as if to demonstrate this, you threw yourself down onto a nearby sofa of the foyer. You pouted in apparent annoyance at your colleagues for a moment, then suddenly began to chortle to yourself. Loki frowned at you. “Cop’rs re so stupid.” You chuckled, waving your mug around as though it was a tankard of ale, “Thought this was vodka,” You explained, “is just water.” You slurred, then suddenly threw the mug straight down to the tile floor causing it to smash into pieces.

“Care to tell me why you just did that?” Loki asked, turning fully to face you with a raised brow, not believing what he was seeing. “And what in Odin’s name you’ve been drinking?” He frowned, studying your face. It was weird, you were behaving so out of character – usually so withdrawn and quiet – this side of you unknown to him. He’d be lying however, if it wasn’t somehow entertaining to him.

“Not that much!” You cried as though you too were surprised you were this out of it, “I had a – uh - a vodka tonic, a – a beer – or two – Can’t remember...” You confessed, shaking your head tiredly, and Loki rolled his eyes, muttering something under his breath about weak Midgardians unable to hold the slightest drink.

“I’m not drunk!” You protested loudly, throwing your arms up wildly.

“Then care to explain why you are now on the floor?” He smirked coolly, raising a brow.

“I’m not - ” You tried to turn to look around, but now found you couldn’t, the tiles by your cheek and the dull sting in your hip that felt miles away. “Oh. Hm…” You murmured in contemplation, closing your eyes as you let your head rest on the cool tiles. You were tired.

“You are intoxicated.” Loki concluded with a mutter. “Go to bed.”

You scowled, but the fact that you were lying on the floor, wasn’t doing much for your argument and - now you were lying down – your drunken energy was fast depleting and exhaustion was beginning to kick in. “Fine.” You mumbled.

Loki turned once more to retire back to his room, happy that he’d now convinced you to do the wised thing given the situation but found himself pausing again when he sensed no movement out of the corner of his eye. He turned back to where you were to find you had still made no movement from your foetal position on the floor.

“Are you planning to get up some time this night?” Loki questioned when you still continued to make no sign of moving.

“I am, you naggy Norse.” You muttered, turning your head into the cold tile, the contact refreshing against your clammy forehead.

Loki raised his eyebrows in surprise at this insult - really not sure what to make of it - but he couldn’t seem to help the slight upward twitch of his lip. The hilarity of your comment seemed to hit you then, and you suddenly erupted into a fit of giggles where you lay on the floor - only making it harder for Loki to fight back the humour he found at sniggering girlishly into the marble beneath you.

Loki continued to watch you as your laughing fit subsided and you finally planted your hands beneath your chest and attempted to – rather weakly – push yourself to your knees. You only managed to make it halfway, however, before you released a hiss at the painful pang in your shoulder, and your arm gave way beneath you.

Your reaction time already lagging thanks to the alcohol, you knew you wouldn’t be able to catch yourself before your face collided into the floor, so you were surprised when no solid marble collided with you. The pressure at you waist and on your arm – and a quick glance over your shoulder – told you that, somehow, Loki had been there to catch you. You hadn’t realised he had been that close to you.

“Oppsy.” You smirked drunkenly, “Loki to the rescue!” You grinned as he pulled you back to your knees. You glanced up at the god in almost child-like wonder, “You’re like a white – no like a – a black knight!” You exclaimed. “Wait.” You paused, your smile faltering and you glanced down at the floor, “Is that – is that racist?” Then another thought seemed to hit you and you frowned up at Loki as he pulled you the rest of the way to your feet, “Are you – do you – do you have races on Asgard?”

“What sort of idiotic question is that?” He muttered, keeping hold of your forearm as you wobbled dangerously on your feet - your balancing seeming to have left you now you had experienced the pleasure of lying on the cold floor.

“Tha’s – Tha’s rude!” You slurred reproachfully. “Wait! You can be a dark knight! Tha’s – Tha’s not racist!” You exclaimed, “Is it?” You asked uncertainly as an after though. You suddenly gasped, “Oh my god your Batman…” You muttered, eyes widening in amazed and you suddenly grinned widely through your arms up excitedly then letting them drop over Loki’s shoulders, your chest now pressed against his.

Loki’s eyes widened at this, not at all use to having close proximity to anyone and now your body was pressed up against him as you practically hugged him - the only way for him to comfortably hold you up now requiring his hand to be on your waist. He grimaced as he tightened his hold on you, shifting your position slightly so you were more upright, less of you pressed into him, but he was still uncomfortably aware of your arms over his shoulders and your perfume filling his air and likely clinging to his linen shirt. “Fine, I’m a knight,” He muttered awkwardly, “Can you now return to your room? Preferably staying there?”

“Sure, sure.” You nodded happily, “I’m going.” You pulled your arms from where they hung over him, brushing over his chest as they fell, and you pushed yourself away from Loki who let you go - though rather reluctantly as you still didn’t look particularly steady and he didn’t particularly want to be blamed for you getting another injured shoulder. Somehow, though, you managed to stay upright. Loki moved past you towards the elevator again, calling it, and stepping in when the doors opened. He turned to face the foyer, frowning when he glanced out to see you now heading in the opposite direction for a door in front of you.

Loki cleared his throat. “Your room is on the sixth floor.” He reminded you.

Your reactions were delayed, but his words eventually seemed to permeate through your mind fog and you paused in your path, glancing back at him. “Hm, yeah, right.” You nodded in agreement, “Elevator first.” You turned around then, having to take a few steps back to steady yourself when you overbalanced, but then began to quickly stagger towards the elevator on the other side of the room where Loki held the door open.

You practically pitched yourself forward into the elevator, catching yourself on the large mirror that made up the back wall, having to place the back of your hand against your mouth as a wave of nausea washed through you.

“Don’t throw up.” Loki growled, noticing this as he released the doors, allowing them to close the two of you in, and stepped back into the centre of the box.

You went to open your mouth, but another wave of nausea made you think better, instead just shaking your head ever so slightly in answer. Loki frequently glanced over at you warily as the lift moved smoothly up the tower, but you seemed to make no attempt to move from your position against the wall, and Loki made sure to glance away if you looked towards him.

The lift pinged its arrival and you pushed yourself begrudgingly off the cool glass as the doors slid open. Loki stepped forward, blocking your path as you teetered slightly to the side. “This is my floor.” He stated. “Not yours.”

You lifted a finger at him. “Uh.” You faltered. “Yep.” You agreed, thinking better, “‘course.” You slurred, trying, and failing miserably to make it look like you knew what you were doing, practically falling back the few steps forward you had taken, leaning heavily against the back mirror once more. Your energy was draining from you fast and you already felt like you were fighting a losing battle with your eyelids.

You didn’t notice your legs giving way you until Loki - who hadn’t been able to help glancing back again, seeing the inevitable and, rolling his eyes in annoyance once more – took the few long strides needed to be back by your side, and threw his arm out to catch your waist once again.

You leaned heavily against his side once more, your mind slowly becoming oblivious to everything and knowing you were unlikely to remember much tomorrow.  Loki sighed heavily at your closeness once again, the weight of you against him, that scent of alcohol and something sweet that seem to emanate from you.  He grumbled something about your inability to remain upright, but, despite your proximity, it sounded like his voice was at the other end of a tunnel. His tone was clearly one of annoyance though, yet you were used to this from Loki and it didn’t bother you in that moment, instead, just allowing yourself to enjoy the cold that seemed to be radiating off his icy skin. Loki, begrudgingly held you against his chest, as he reached past you, hitting the button for your floor, having resigned himself to the fact he was going to have to escort you the rest of the way to the room, lest you end up seriously harming yourself.  

When the familiar ping of the elevator rang once more, Loki attempted to lead you – where you clung to his side - out into the corridor, but your feet seemed to have become like heavy lead and barely seemed to offer any movement. Loki struggle with you for only a few moments before he’d had enough for one night, growled something under his breath again about Midgardians and their liquor, then abruptly tightened his grip on your waist and, almost effortlessly, threw you over his shoulder. You shrieked in surprise when your feet first left the floor, but you were soon giggling when you found yourself dangling over the god’s shoulder, allowing yourself to close your eyes and enjoy the gentle rhythm of his strides as the sleepy laughter bubble from your lips.

Loki ignored the almost cute sounds emanating from you as he strode down the hallway, unusually careful of the Midgardian burden. He found your room without much difficulty and made his way your bed, depositing you – surprisingly gently for the amount of trouble you had caused him that evening – onto the duvet.

When he tried to pull away though, you were quick to protest. “No, no, noooo…” You whined, clinging to his arms, your eyes still closed.

“What are you-“ Loki began, frowning in bewilderment at your actions.

“I like your arms… Come back arms…” You murmured sleepily, your fingers scrambling up his sleeve, trying to pull his body back down to yours, already missing his odd coolness against your flushed body.

Loki widened his eyes in amazement. “Really?”

“You’re so nice and – and cooollld…” You hummed happily at the thought. “Like my own personal ice cube...” You chuckled to yourself, your eyes still closed as you continued to try to pull him back down to you. Loki thought about protesting being your ‘personal’ anything, but he knew there was basically no point and the comment made him feel something… funny.

Despite your apparent exhaustion, your grip on his sleeve was surprisingly persistent and, though he knew he probably easily break your grasp – you being a meagre Midgardian – he found himself not feeling quite as displeased by it as he probably should.

“You humans are ridiculous.” He grumbled to himself, shifting you over slight so he could perch next to you on the bed, his back against the headboard behind him.

“You love us really...” You murmured happily, snuggling against his side, resting your head against his solid chest - your last thought being that it was probably the comfiest pillow you’d ever had.

Some of them, maybe. Loki thought silently as he watched sleep pull you under completely now, your face beautifully peaceful and innocent.

 Tags for Everything: @nerdybirdyfiz @beautifulbows924 @arkhamsurviour @angelicshinigami @white-chocolate-mocha-fan @jemjem-chan @sheldonsherlocktony @thatwriterizzy

Tags for Loki: @lexiiiii28 @imagine-that-100 @hakuoyuki @frostymoon11 @vanyali07 @ernesto-deserved-it @drakesfiance @spider-piggyxo @hiddlestoner3059

[annapebbles85]

This morning I woke up feeling hopeful of a positive day. I have managed about three hours of very broken sleep thanks to my naughty pup howling downstairs because our cat walked past her.

I get up, wake up four beasties from their warm comfy slumbers and attempt to move my husband from the sofa as there is no where else to sit if he is lay down. It gets a little stressed trying to get the littlest two ready and the big dog Hero pulls down the curtain pole. Jacob only seems to have trousers that are too small in his cupboard and the chaos begins.

Rather than going to bed and leaving me to it my husband gets into a stressful rage and his tired stress means he gets shouty. Shouty to me just sends my insides into instant panic, I go back to being 8 years old of when my brother and Dad used to get into an argument and it often ended with my brother getting a smack, which filled me with such fear at the time I never got over it. My husband is a good man and he isn't physically violent, but the shouting instantly immobilizes me. Anxiety goes to a million and no matter how I try I can't get out of the way quick enough. I tog the kids up and we are currently buying £20 worth of breakfast and pack-up food because i had to get out of the way. Marriage is hard. Marriage in lockdown is harder. Having a working man have to pull 80% of the family weight while i am physically incapable of keeping house feels utter shit.

The worry that my operation at the end of the month will either make or break our marriage is real. I won't be able to get out of the anger if he gets cross. I will have no choice as I won't be driving for at least a month and he has to go on nights for a whole month, while doing both lots of school runs and keeping house. Yay.

[malecsecretsanta]

Merry Christmas, @gayndsoft!

Read on AO3

*****

Rafael Lightwood-Bane’s Best Christmas Present Ever...    

Magnus leant back on the sofa sipping eggnog as he glanced across to the far side of the loft.

“He looks like he’s doing really well.” Catarina, who was sitting next to him, nodded towards the small figure of Rafael who was currently busy decorating the Christmas tree along with Max and Madzie under the watchful gaze of Alec.

“He is. You know, after all he’s been through…” Magnus shook his head sadly at the memory.

It was little over ten months ago that Rafael had come into their lives Magnus thought remembering the first time they met him. He and Alec had been on a routine mission when they’d heard a faint whimpering coming from behind a pile of rubbish. Magnus’ heart had broken when they’d seen the little boy, likely no more than six years old, cowering back against the wall, filthy dirty and scrawny from lack of nourishment, his brown eyes wide with terror.

It’d taken what felt like hours before Alec had managed to coax him out, and still longer till either of them dared to move towards him, terrified they’d spook him. Finally they’d managed to get him back to the loft, but as the child seemed unwilling or incapable of speech, they really hadn’t known what to do with him.

Fortunately one member of the family did. Max had just turned four and was confident and gregarious making him the ideal person to break the ice. He’d grabbed Rafael’s hand and instantly dragged him over to the toy box. The pair had been inseparable ever since.

For months Rafael didn’t say a word but somehow Max always knew what he wanted and had taken it upon himself to be the little boy’s spokesperson. Magnus still remembered the first day Rafael had spoken, it’d taken months of wrangling with the Clave who had wanted to take the boy to Idris as soon as they found out he was a shadowhunter, but finally they’d succeeded in their attempts at adopting him.

That night he and Alec had sat both the boys down, Rafael holding onto Max’s hand like a lifeline, and asked them how they would feel about being brothers for real. Magnus hadn't even been sure he’d heard it at first but when Alec turned to him and smiled, tears in his eyes, he knew it hadn’t been his imagination. Rafael had whispered, “Yes please”.

It would be nice to say that things had been fine from then onwards, but real life is never that easy. Rafael was still silent around everyone bar immediate family and friends, not out of shyness, more out of caution. Even with the select few people he did trust, he wasn't exactly talkative at first.

Of all the people Rafael took to, the biggest surprise was Raphael Santiago, who the boy practically hero worshipped. It’d started when Magnus had been called out on urgent business one night whilst Alec was on patrol and he’d had no choice but to ask his famously taciturn friend to babysit the boys. What he wasn't expecting on his return was to find the three of them in the kitchen, Raphael instructing the boys on how to make tamales.

Suffice to say when after months of trying to ask the boy what his name was, after all they could hardly keep calling him kiddo, no one was really shocked when he announced he was called Rafael. They’d never really know if that was actually what he was called and Magnus had a sneaking suspicion that even Rafael didn't remember his real name. Nonetheless from that point on, he was Rafael Lightwood-Bane.

“Well he looks really happy now. You and Alec should be really proud.” The sound of Catarina’s voice roused Magnus from his memories.

“So does Madzie.” Magnus looked across to where the kids were all laughing and joking together. Madzie had tinsel wrapped around her neck like a feather boa and Rafael was insisting Max should wear baubles dangling off his newly grown horns.

“Yeah, who’d have thought we’d turn out to be good at this parenting lark eh?” Catarina laughed.

“I’ll drink to that.” Magnus clinked his glass with Catarina’s beer bottle.

“Papa, Papa..” Max came hurtling over and grabbed Magnus’ hand, urging him to join them by the tree. “Look, we’re all done.”

“It looks amazing, blueberry.” Max puffed out his chest proudy as Magnus ruffled his hair.

Every inch of the Christmas tree was covered with ornaments, none of which matched in the slightest. There was more tinsel on it than Magnus even knew they owned and there must have been at least 4 sets of lights. Coordinated it was not but the overall effect was adorable.

“Ok guys, all we need to do is switch the lights on. Who wants to do the honours?” Alec asked in his most serious voice.

“Rafey. Madzie and I did it before.” Max announced.

“Ok then. You up for it Raf..?” Alec crouched down to Rafael’s height and was rewarded with a serious nod in response. “Ok, so when I say, you flick the switch. Papa always likes to make a speech first.”

Rafael giggled, a sound that was always music to Magnus’ ears, before following Alec dutifully over to the switch and chewing his lip in concentration as he waited.

Magnus cleared his throat dramatically.

“I’d like to start by thanking the excellent decorating party without whom none of this would've been possible and of course say thank you to Catarina and Madzie for joining us on this very important day.” Magnus began, punctuating his words with dramatic flourishes of his hands.

“Papa, hurry up..” Max was practically vibrating with excitement.

“Fine..” Magnus huffed in mock affront. “Without further ado I now declare the Lightwood-Bane Christmas decorations open.”

Magnus winked at Rafael who flicked the switch making the loft light up with what looked like thousands of twinkling lights.

“Yay.” Max clapped his hands together happily whilst Madzie grinned happily.

Alec rested his hand lightly on Rafael’s shoulder as the little boy looked around the room, lips parted in wonder.

“You did good kiddo.” Alec whispered and Rafael looked up, proud smile on his lips.

The moment was shattered by Max bounding up to the pair of them, a worried expression on his face.

“What’s the matter Maxie..?” Alec crouched down as Max tugged anxiously at his shirt.

“We forgot the stockings, Daddy.” Max’s brow was furrowed in concern. “How’s Santa gonna leave us presents if we don't have stockings?”

Rafael snorted derisively.

“You Ok Raf?” Magnus joined Alec in crouching, looking at Rafael in concern.

“Santa’s not real.” Rafael snapped.

Max’s lip wobbled a little as he looked between his parents.

“Sure he is Raf. He’s as real as you and I.” Alec reached out to reassure their son but Rafael pulled away angrily.

“No he’s not. Santa is a lie.” Rafael shouted before turning and running off to his room.

Magnus and Alec exchanged a look.

“I'll go.” Alec whispered before standing up and racing after Rafael. Magnus pulled Max into a hug.

The slight tugging at his side caught Magnus’ attention and as he turned his head he saw Madzie pulling at his shirt.

“Is it true Uncle Magnus? Is Santa a lie?” Madzie asked seriously as Magnus watched Catarina shrug behind her.

“No sweetpea, of course it’s not true…” Madzie smiled hesitantly at Magnus’ words. “I’ll have you know Santa is a good friend of Catarina and I. Isn't that right Cat?”

“Um...yes. We’re great friends.” Cat agreed after a second’s hesitation.

“Really??” Max looked at Magnus and Cat with wide eyes before turning his full attention to his Papa. “Can we meet him? Can we? Please.”

Magnus hadn't really thought things through before he’d spoken and now he was surrounded by two excited children looking at him expectantly, whilst Catarina shook her head affectionately behind them.

“You know Santa’s very busy this time of year…” Magnus began, only to be drowned out by a chorus of pleas.

“Okay, okay. I’ll see what I can do...no promises though..”

Both Madzie and Max seemed satisfied with the answer and nodded their heads seriously.

“But you’ve both got to be very good. Santa only likes good boys and girls.” Magnus stood up as both promised they would be.

“Let’s go tell Raf..” Max grabbed Magnus’ hand and pulled him towards Rafael’s room.

………

From outside the room Magnus could hear Alec and Rafael talking and he paused for a second, making Max look at him, his brow slightly furrowed. Magnus held a finger to his lip.

“But he can't be real Daddy..” Rafael sniffed and Magnus felt his heart clench painfully at the sound, knowing that his son had been crying.

“Why do you say that?” Alec asked. As Magnus hovered in the doorway he saw Alec sit on the bed, gently stroking Rafael’s hair as the little boy lay there facing the wall.

“Because if he’s real, why didn't he find me? Why did he leave me all alone?” Rafael turned his head to look at Alec, streaks of tears running down his face.

Magnus wasn't sure he had it in him to speak after seeing the anguish on his son’s face and from the looks of it Alec wasn't faring any better. Fortunately Max didn't seem to have any such qualms and breaking out of Magnus grip, he sprinted into the the room and jumped on the bed.

“Because he couldn't find you, silly.” Max answered confidently. “You’re really good at hiding Raf..”

“You think?” Rafael looked at Max, a glimmer of hope behind his eyes and Max nodded his head enthusiastically.

“Of course.” Max replied with all the certainty of a four year old and Rafael smiled hesitantly. “We can ask him when we meet him and I bet you get extra presents too..”

Rafael sat up a little and furrowed his brow.

“Papa knows him. We’re gonna visit..” Max announced proudly.

Alec caught Magnus’ eye and mouthed ‘what?’. He replied with a slight shrug and a lopsided smile.

“Really?” Raf asked tentatively.

“Yeah. C’mon Raf, let's go get some candy. We always get candy when the tree is done.” Max grabbed his brother’s hand and pulled him up.

“Ok.” Rafael smiled as Max dragged him out of the room, leaving a somewhat shell shocked Alec in their wake.

Slowly Alec got to his feet and walked over to Magnus.

“So d’you wanna explain..?” Alec asked, lips quirking slightly.

“Ok, ok, I may have said I knew Santa. I was kind of put on the spot, you know..” Magnus pouted.

“Right, so what do we do now ?” Alec raised an eyebrow.

“Well darling, clearly we go meet Santa.”

………..

Later that evening after Catarina and Madzie had left and the boys had gone to bed, Magnus retired to his office, ostensibly to make final arrangements. He’d at least partially convinced a very skeptical Alec that he had a plan and now he had to make good on it.

Magnus paced the room, drink in hand, as he waited for the call to connect.

“What do you want Magnus?” Within minutes a very grumpy sounding Ragnor answered the phone.

“Why do you always assume I want something when I call? Perhaps I just phoned to catch up?” Magnus pouted.

 “Unlikely.”

“Ok, well it’s possible I could do with a teensy weensy favour.” Magnus conceded as Ragnor snorted victoriously on the other end of the line.

Magnus spent the next five minutes explaining extensively the events of the day, hoping to soften his friend up before moving on to the real reason for his call.

“No, not a chance.” Ragnor replied once Magnus had finished talking.

“Ragnor, please..” Magnus begged, determined to not give up without a fight.

 “Surely there must be someone else.”

“There really isn't. Rafael’s really smart and he’d know something was up if it was anyone else. Besides, he hasn't met you yet because you’re a curmudgeonly old git who never visits.” Magnus pouted.

“Lovely, insult the man you’re asking for a favour.” Ragnor grumbled and Magnus heard the gentle chinking of crockery in the background. He could picture his old friend sitting on the sofa sipping tea and the image made him smile. “Fine, I’ll do it, but not for you, you understand, because that poor boy deserves it.”

………

A week later and everyone was gathered in the loft’s living room, bundled up in hats and scarves. Madzie and Max were nattering excitedly and even Rafael had joined in, despite looking more than a little nervous.

Alec glanced across and raised an eyebrow as Magnus grinned back confidently. So far he’d kept his plans from everyone, including Alec, and he was really looking forward to their reactions. He only hoped that Ragnor had managed to uphold his end of the deal.

“Right then. Is everyone ready?” Magnus asked and the three children nodded their heads obediently. “Ok, next stop, Lapland.”

Magnus turned and conjured a portal before grabbing Rafael’s hand and leading everyone through.

The scene on the other side of the portal was straight out of a Christmas card and even Magnus had to admit Ragnor had outdone himself.

Everywhere was covered in snow with forests of fir trees in the background. Up ahead, a cosy looking log cabin stood, smoke puffing out of the chimney, lights twinkling in the windows and a brightly coloured sleigh parked beside it. To their right was a large barn and the sound of clinking machinery mixed with Christmas music drifted over the air. On the left hand side there was a large field with a stable block attached, currently inhabited by a group of reindeer running merrily around.

Magnus barely had time to take it all in before the three children began running around excitedly, trying to take in everything in front of them. Alec glanced across, a look of shock on his face and even Catarina looked impressed.

Somehow Magnus managed to herd everyone towards the cabin, before encouraging the children up the wooden steps to knock on the door whilst the adults stood back a little.

Before they had a chance to knock, the door was swung open by a large man wearing a bright red Santa suit, his white hair spilling out from under his hat and a rather impressive looking beard.

“Well if it isn't Rafael, Max and Madzie. I’ve been expecting the three of you.” A voice boomed out with a distinctive British accent that had Catarina stifling a laugh. “Welcome to my home.”

“Magnus, is that Ragnor?” Alec whispered and Magnus nodded his head surreptitiously. “What the hell?”

Magnus had to admit Ragnor definitely looked the part and were it not for the accent even he’d be hard pushed to recognise him under the heavy glamour. Magnus couldn't resist teasing his old friend so he mouthed ‘ho ho ho’ at him, receiving a brief frown in reply.

“So how about I get one of my elves to show you around eh?” Santa Ragnor clicked his fingers and a brightly dressed elf appeared. Magnus was pretty sure he recognised him to be a young warlock that Ragnor had been mentoring. “I'm afraid Santa is very busy at the moment, what with it being so close to Christmas, but when you’re finished we’ll all have some tea. Ho, ho, ho.”

If the last bit was more than a little sarcastic, none of the children seemed to notice, far too occupied with everything around them. All holding hands, they trooped excitedly after the ‘elf’, leaving the adults behind with Ragnor.

“Admit it, I did rather well, even if I say so myself.” Ragnor said as soon as the youngsters were out of earshot.

“Well, it's not bad I s’pose.” Magnus held a finger to his lip as he looked around. “But I was under the impression that Santa was supposed to be jolly and well…”

Magnus indicated Ragnor with a flourish of his hand and Ragnor scowled in response.

“Magnus!” Alec smacked him lightly on the arm in admonishment.

“Fine, Ok. I'm impressed, you’ve outdone yourself old friend.” Magnus grinned. “I owe you one.”

“Damn right. I'm thinking a vintage port as a start, and trust me, you’ll be repaying this one for centuries..” Ragnor grumbled, although the smile on his lips gave him away more than a little.

“Rubbish..you’re enjoying yourself.” Magnus gasped, seeing his friends expression.

“Am not.”

“Are too..”

“When you two are quite finished, can we please go inside...it’s bloody freezing out here.” Catarina interrupted in her best schoolmarm voice.

……..

It was about half an hour and several glasses of port later. Magnus and Ragnor had fallen into their usual pattern of good humoured teasing and the atmosphere was festive to say the least.

“Honestly my dear little cabbage, how is it possible that despite it being Christmas, you still manage to have such awful taste in interior decor. It’s rather drab, isn't it.” Magnus was pacing the room glass in hand whilst Alec rolled his eyes good humoredly.

“It’s called good taste, not that you’d know. Do put that down, it’s an antique.” Ragnor scowled at Magnus who had paused by the open fireplace and picked up an ancient looking snowglobe.

“Like you then.” Magnus poked his tongue out before putting the globe back on the mantle and reluctantly moving back to the sofa, looking at the threadbare patchwork throw on it in apparent disgust.

“Are they always like this?” Alec asked Cat, lips quirking at the corners.

“Yep.” Cat replied with a fond shake of her head. “Have been for the last two centuries. To be honest, it pretty much washes over me these days.”

“Catarina Loss, surely as one of my oldest friends you should be sticking up for me.” Magnus pouted, hand held to his chest.

Whatever Catarina was going to say was disturbed by the loud arrival of the three children. Max and Madzie came bounding in, with Max excitedly telling everyone what they’d seen.

“And there were reindeer and we saw Rudolph. Rudolph, Daddy. Can you believe it? And Mervin, that’s the elf’s name, said we could feed them later if Santa says it's ok..” Alec smiled down at his son but couldn't manage to get a word in edgeways. When Max was excited he always talked a mile a minute.

Out of the corner of his eye Magnus saw Rafael was standing back a little, eyes narrowed as he surveyed the room with suspicion. Clearly Ragnor noticed too and getting to his feet he walked over to the little boy before crouching down and looking at him seriously.

“Rafael, I wonder if I could have a word if that’s ok?” Ragnor spoke softly and Rafael glanced up at Magnus for reassurance. Magnus winked and nodded at his son.

“Ok.” Rafael looked at Ragnor, folding his arms resolutely and sticking his chin out.

“Excellent. Why don't we have a chat by the tree?” Ragnor stood up and guided Rafael with a hand hovering just behind his back until they were just out of earshot.

Catarina and Alec were busy listening to everything Madzie and Max were telling them but Magnus was curious. With a click of his fingers his magic sparked, increasing his hearing so he could listen to what Ragnor was saying.

Rafael had his back to him so he couldn't see his expression but he could tell by the rigid set of his shoulders that his son was definitely on the defensive.

“I'm afraid Rafael, that I owe you an apology.” Ragnor spoke softly but with sincerity. “I really tried to find you last Christmas.”

“‘S’alright..” Rafael mumbled.

“No Rafael, it is not. I pride myself on always finding good boys and girls and you Rafael are one of the bravest and best boys I’ve seen.” Magnus felt himself tearing up at Ragnor’s words and he watched as his son tilted his head in acknowledgement of them. “You are also exceptionally good at hiding, so you certainly made things rather tricky for me, still we got there in the end didn't we..”

“But you didn't find me..” Magnus could picture the frown on Rafael's face as he spoke and he wondered where Ragnor was going with this.

“Hmm didn't I now? Can I ask you a question Rafael?” Ragnor paused for a second, waiting for the little boy’s response. Rafael seemed to think for a moment before cautiously nodding his head.

“Last year, what did you pray for for Christmas?” Ragnor asked kindly.

The next words were so quiet coming out of Rafael’s mouth that even with his magically enhanced hearing he struggled to catch them.

“A family…” A tear rolled down Magnus’ cheek when he heard those words which he hastily brushed away.

“Exactly. Well I'm sorry I didn't manage it for Christmas, but as I said, you were pretty difficult to find and then I had to choose the very best family I could. Even Santa can't get that done quickly, I'm afraid.” Ragnor waved his hands around dramatically.

“You mean..” Rafael’s hands dropped to his side.

Ragnor smiled broadly and nodded his head. Seconds later Rafael threw himself at Ragnor, hugging him tightly.

“Thank you Santa, thank you. You really sent me Daddy and Papa?” Rafael exclaimed excitedly.

“And Max too.” Ragnor laughed.

Rafael squealed with happiness as he snuggled into Ragnor.

“You didn't forget me.” Magnus heard the little boy say.

“Heavens no. Why would you think that?” Ragnor chuckled.

Rafael pulled back and stood shifting from foot to foot awkwardly.

“Um Santa..” He mumbled.

“Yes, Rafael?”

“I’m really sorry.” Magnus saw Ragnor raise a bushy eyebrow in question. “I was really mean about you and I said you weren't real. I don't think I deserve any presents this year..”

Rafael poked the edge of the rug with his toe and Ragnor stood up, dusting off his trousers before placing a hand on the boys shoulder.

“Nonsense, dear boy. You have been very good this year and you absolutely deserve presents. I don't blame you one bit for doubting me, I was very late with your gift last year.”

“But…”

“No buts. Santa knows these things.” Ragnor stood and cleared his throat. “Now then, those reindeer of mine won't feed themselves you know. I don't suppose anyone would like to help, would they?”

Max and Madzie jumped up and down with their hands in the air. Magnus caught Ragnor’s eye over their heads and mouthed ‘thank you’ as he wiped away another tear.

……

By the time they left it was really late, having spent a fun filled afternoon feeding the reindeer, making snowmen and snow angels and having a pretty epic snowball fight. Max was fast asleep, being carried by Alec, and Madzie wasn't far behind, leaning heavily on Cat’s shoulder as she held her. Just as they were about to step through the portal Rafael let go of Magnus’ hand and ran back to Ragnor to give him one more hug before they left.

Catarina and Madzie said their goodbyes and portalled home and Max didn't even stir as Alec put him to bed.

As Magnus tucked Rafael into bed he could barely keep his eyes open either.

“So did you have a nice time today Raf?” Magnus asked as he leant down to kiss him on the forehead.

“Yeah. It was the best. Thank you, Papa.” Rafael murmured sleepily.

“It was my pleasure. Now sleep tight, my little angel.” Magnus got up and moved to the door, switching off the light so the only illumination was the constellation night light Alec had bought him to help him settle when he first arrived.

“Papa?” Raf said groggily.

“Yes, Rafey?”

“Santa said you and Daddy and Max were my Christmas present last year and, well, can you tell Maxi and Daddy something from me?”

“Of course darling..”

“Best present ever…” Rafael grinned.

“Well, my angel, if Santa gave you us for Christmas, he also gave us you and that my darling was our best present ever.” Magnus grinned happily at the beaming smile on his son’s face. “Now get some rest sweetheart.”

“‘Kay. Oh and Papa, I promise I’ll look out for you ‘cos Santa says you're always getting up to mischief, so I said I’d make sure you didn't get into too much trouble.” Rafael spoke earnestly and Magnus had to fight the urge to laugh at how typical it was of Ragnor to have the last word.

“Thank you Rafael. Now then, time to go to sleep Ok?”

“Ok, night night Papa.”

“Night Rafael.”

Magnus closed the door softly behind him as he left and if he cried like a baby later that night as he told Alec what Ragnor had said to Rafael, no one really needed to know.

[calif0rnia-lovers]

Scared To Be Lonely

words: 2299

Part of you wondered how he knew where to find you. It had been nearly five years since your last speaking. Six since you’d actually seen him. Your last contact had come on a night a lot like this one.

Rick had called you; his mind had been clouded by exhaustion, nostalgia and a side of alcohol. He was locked away in his tiny, cramped apartment the clock across the room holding his attention. It had been ten past midnight, officially making it April 22nd. He wasn’t sure if it was his lack of sleep pushing him towards the border of insanity, or the empty bottle of whiskey on the bedside table, that made him dial your number. Although he’d deleted it from his phone years before, it was permanently engrained in his mind.

It had rang four times, Rick promising to hang up if it reached the fifth.

When you’d answered, you hadn’t bothered to look at the number. It wouldn’t matter anyway because you wouldn’t have recognized it. All you knew was that you didn’t want the rings to wake Derek.

“Hello?”

“…I miss you,” was his only admission before he’d hung up.

It not until you were fully awake later that day that you realized why the call had come when it did.

You blink, pushing away any thoughts of the past as you watch Rick reach up to wipe away the water trickling towards his brow. You take in his current state. Dripping from head to toe, he is already causing a puddle to form in your doorway.

Knowing Rick, he has most likely kept tabs on you. It didn’t matter that you had moved across the country to get away from him, and all the baggage he carried. It didn’t matter that you had gotten engaged to someone other than him. He’d always kept tabs on you.

You are the first to speak. Your arms wrap around your waist. Although he’d seen every part of you millions of times before, you can’t help but feel uncomfortable beneath his gaze as Rick steals a glance at you.

“Rick…what are you doing here?”

For a moment you think your question has gone unheard as you watch his eyes drift from yours. His gaze falls over your shoulder.

“Is he here?”

Your brow furrows as your question is abandoned. Your response gets hitched in your throat as your arms cross over your chest.

“You-you’ve been watching me?” You feel your skin begin to heat as his eyes roll. “You don’t get to watch me-or even look into me when you’re the one who-”

“I take it he’s not.” He responds, cutting you off.

You instinctively take a step back as he moves in your direction. Once your realize he’s still moving in your direction, you take another step back regrettably allowing him to step inside.

You remain frozen in the doorway, your back remaining to him. You listen to his heavy feet and how his boots squeak as they track across the floor and you shut the door.

You take a deep breath, your eyes closing as your lungs fill.

One minute. One minute and nothing more.

The limitation is more for yourself than him.

One minute to shove him out on his ass, you tell yourself.

Turning you find Rick is already in the living room. You cannot see what he is focused on from where you stand.

“How are things at the hospital?” He asks as he studies the photo in his hands.

It was taken years before on the eve of your birthday. Although you are not the only two in the photo, Rick finds himself incapable of focusing on anyone else.

You find yourself slightly surprised by his question. Of all things, this is the first question he wants to know?

Rick glances over his shoulder once you don’t respond.

You remain by the door, wishing you’d left it open so that it’s easier to shove him through.

“They’re good,” you nod. “Um…can I get you something to drink? Maybe a towel?”

Shaking his head, Rick places the picture frame back into its place before turning to study the rest of your tiny apartment. You aren’t quite sure what he is looking for, but you find yourself covered in a sense of uneasiness.

Your weight shifts between both heels as you keep your eyes on your feet. There is no point feeding into the desire to study him for any changes. He isn’t staying long.

You clear your throat. “You need to leave.”

Pausing in his tracks, Rick digs his hands into the pockets of his hoodie. He lets his eyes scan the kitchen before glancing in your direction.  

“Do you want me too? Or is it because of Derek?”

“Did you come here to talk about Derek?” You ask, his smile that forms in response sparking an irritation in you.

“He’s not staying here anymore,” Rick notes.

“We’re taking a break-” you stop, your eyes narrowing as you backtrack. “No, why am I explaining this to you? What are you doing here, Rick?”

Stopping before you, Rick causes you to step back until your back rests against the front door.

You straighten your posture beneath his gaze taking a deep breath before mustering the strength to meet his gaze.

His eyes are what made you stay, in the relationship that is. His eyes are, and will always be, evidence of the weakness you present him. No matter at how well he has perfected the ‘stern, hardworking, no-nonsense’ persona his eyes were the evidence that he was…a “feeling” human like everyone else.

“I feel like I’m losing my goddamn mind, Y/N,” he admits quietly. “I just…I just wanted to see you.”

Your body tenses as he reaches forward to lift your chin. His gaze remaining on yours once you don’t flinch beneath his touch. You aren’t sure if you allow him to kiss you because you want to, or you know that he needs to.

It is soft, simple. Rick isn’t sure if it’s out of fear of pushing it, or admitting how much he’s missed being granted permission to complete the task. Either way, he doesn’t test his limits, he pulls back.

Your body instinctively follows his, the step forward in an attempt to keep him close pulling your hand his to his chest.

The kiss you return is not nearly as reserved, the eagerness fueling your actions pulling a chuckle from Rick as his hands find your hips.

His kisses travel along your shoulders before trailing along the front of your shirt. Lowering he gently pushes against the fabric of your shirt. Tugging it over your head you drop it to the floor as he kisses your side allowing him to push down the fabric around your waist. You arm secures around his neck as he kisses you and you step out of the fabric.

Securing his arm around your waist, Rick carries you to the nearest surface before laying you down on the sofa and climbing over you.

With your legs still wrapped around his hips, you try to pull him down to lie on top of you. Rick manages to hastily remove his clothes leaning down occasionally to kiss you.

With his arms around you, you both find yourselves pleased to find the action still elicits the same response. The soft welcoming sense of comfort and security washes over the both of you, Rick finally feeling his body truly relax after what seems like ages. He lets his lips brush against yours, his thumb lightly tracing along the curve of your jaw as you lift your head to return the kiss.

Years without it made the action seem close to addicting, your body coming alive with a slow burning heat once you are reminded of the wonders of his lips. Rick is simply content with showering you with kisses, murmuring how much he’s missed you in a soft voice lost beneath the crackles of thunder.

Your fingers tighten in the hair at the nape of his neck, tugging in anticipation of what is to come. As his lips travel to your neck he strokes a hand down your waist to your thigh. He gently kisses and sucks against your sensitive skin, his hand stroking and massaging your skin in all the right places. As much as he wants to make you come down beneath his touch, Rick wraps your legs around his hips as he gently guides his way inside of you.

He had imagined how your bodies would react if ever in contact with one another again. He’d imagined a heated exchange, fueled by the anger you both have. But tonight, the only thing that’s on his mind is providing you with the slow, yet fulfilling lovemaking that had always come nights when the pressure of his job was becoming too much.

The cramped space keeps your bodies pressed together. He has one arm beneath the base of your spine, his other bracing against the arm of the chair behind your neck, allowing you to feel each flex of his muscles as his hips thrust into you.

Each slow thrust helps build the desirable warmth each person always seeks. As your arms tighten around his neck he pushes even deeper inside you – never breaking his pace.

All he wants is to stay here with you, in this moment, tangled up in this small space. He knows that anytime you are clinging to him neither of you can get hurt.

His breathing becomes short and shallow, warm against your neck as the increasing pressure between your legs builds. The tension in his shoulders and the stifled words he manages lets you know he is getting close. Soon you’re saying his name and a series of shameless pleas for him to go faster and hard.

He tucks his face into your skin, kissing against your skyrocketed pulse as you wither beneath him. You’re still trying to catch your breath once he groans against your neck as he finds his own release.

*

It is a clash of thunder that wakes you.

For a moment you’re not sure where you are. It can’t be your room, that is for certain. There is no way there is a man in your bed, let alone Rick Flag.

Yet here he is. His arm is around you, sprawled across your stomach, his face tucked into the crook of your neck.

You roll slowly onto your side, making sure not to wake the man sleeping alongside you.

You aren’t even sure how the two of you made it this far into the house. The fog in your mind stems from exhaustion and a rush of emotions. You find yourself reminded of the last time you’d been in this position.

The unshaven jaw, hair tousled from your fingers. Not a trace of stress on his face. It was years ago after he’d whispered that he’d wanted to spend the rest of his life with you.

Leaning over you place a kiss on his cheek. You let your lips linger against his skin, the soft intake of breath filling your lungs with his scent. It is not until your lips press against his you realize you don’t want to wake him. You know if he wakes you’ll run the risk of him leaving again, and not a single part of you wanted that.

You only manage to scoot about an inch away when you hear his groggy voice.

“Where you going, sweetheart?”

His arm wraps around your waist tugging your body back into his.

“Nowhere.”

The admission comes out just above a whisper.

Rick kisses you in his sleep driven haze, his fingers brushing at your hair.

The soft smile which forms on his lips grows as you turn to hide your face from his eyes. Kissing his tattoo, you continue as his face burrows against your hair. The heat of his skin warms your swollen lips. Despite the rain, he still somehow smells the same.

Following the ink with your lips, you find yourself distracted by the chain around his neck.

Kissing his skin one last time you meet his gaze before letting your fingers trace the silver chain. At the end lay a pair of dog tags, but the dog tags are not what have your attention.

A pair of silver bands.

One he had given to you years ago before things got…complicated.

Slipping one onto your ring finger, you admire it in the moon light. You slip it off your fingers before letting the chain rest back against his chest.

The soft yawn you can’t stifle overtakes your body. Your body curls into Rick’s, the warmth of his chest muffling the sound. A smile spreads across his lips at the action.

“You should get some sleep.” Your brow arches at the soft tease.

“I bet you need it more than me.”

Sighing, he chuckles. “You’re right.”

“Wake me up before you leave.”

For a moment Rick is silent. The fact your words did not come out as a request letting him know he had to make a decision soon. You watched the hesitance, the way his jaw clenched with the furrow of his brow.

[allyinthekeyofx]

Fading Light -Part 3- 1/6

PART ONE  -  Chapters 1-6

PART TWO  -  Chapters 1-6

PART THREE  - Prologue

PART THREE

CHAPTER ONE

It’s been an exhausting day for us both I think and as I surreptitiously glance across the small room to where Scully is sat atop the bed, my emotions threaten once again to almost overwhelm me. Because she’s alive. She is well. And she is here.

But the costs it seems have been enormous for her; for us.

Because she cannot remember; she cannot remember any of it.

The call from Skinner had dragged me from a fitful sleep and the sound of the phone trilling in my ear from where I had left it, not six inches away from me lest news of her should come, had caused me to bolt awake with the same feeling of hope and dread that had become all too familiar since she had gone missing five days before.

Five short days.

Five days that had seemed to me like a lifetime.

Five days were I couldn’t eat without throwing up, couldn’t sleep without nightmares of her laying somewhere cold and dark, the back of her head missing and the gun clutched in her hand coming to plague me. Five days where I thought I had lost her and, not surprisingly, had lost myself right along with her.

Skinner had refused to let me anywhere near the investigation and subsequent desperate search for her after, with my usual aplomb,  I had managed to blot my copybook before the first day had even gone by. 

Upon hearing one of the hastily appointed task force agents, a slimy little brown-nosed bastard named Rigg, lean in to his equally smarmy sidekick and proclaim the absolute futility and waste of man-power to afford so much time and resource on searching for a dead woman, I had quite literally launched myself at him.

It had taken three agents to drag me off the oily piece of shit and I think if Skinner hadn’t intervened, his voice being the only one that managed to cut through the red mist that had descended upon me so completely, I would have killed him right there and then in the conference room.

As it was he got away lightly with nothing more than a heavy case of busted pride and I earned myself a seven day suspension while OPR considered my eventual punishment. But the suspension itself hadn’t bothered me unduly because no punishment they might meet out to me could even come close to making me feel any worse than I had already.

Skinner had driven me home himself. I think he thought he owed it to me after effectively blocking my access from the investigation and while I sat and seethed with unrequited revenge, deep down I knew he had done the right thing. That I was way too close to have even a shred of objectivity any more. And before he had left, he had dropped a hand on my shoulder; a wholly uncharacteristic gesture from this most tightly controlled of men, his expression such a mix of compassion and steely determination that I was unable to speak.

“We will find her Mulder.”

And I had nodded numbly, even then not really believing that she had any intention of being found.

Which was ironic as it turned out, because in fact, Scully was the one who had found him; had found us.

I can only imagine his complete and utter shock that morning when he had turned and seen her standing in his office; a Scully, who while a little thinner than she had been six months ago when the cancer had started to take hold, to all intents and purposes looked and acted completely normally. From the tips of her customary three inched heeled ‘come fuck me’ shoes to the top of her impeccably styled hair she stood in Skinner's office looking every inch the consummate professional.

Oh yeah, Scully had always known how to make an entrance.

I had literally thrown myself out of her apartment and into my car and had negotiated the rush hour traffic that clogged the DC streets like a man possessed. In fact I can’t believe I didn’t kill myself or even worse, some other poor bastard, because I arrived at the parking garage of the Hoover building with absolutely no conscious recollection of how I’d got there.

Because the mantra that had begun repeating itself in my head before I had even ended Skinner’s call had simply increased in volume and urgency inside me until it effectively blotted everything out.

She’s alive. She’s alive.

Skinner had not really furnished me with too many details during the call. I think mainly because he was smart enough to realise that I would be incapable of moving past the fact that she was still with us. That I needed in some small way to process the unbelievable before I could even hope to allow anything else to crowd it out of my conscious thought.

It wasn’t until I reached skinner’s office that he even attempted to explain and despite my need to push past him to see for myself that she was really there, something in his expression gave me pause to hear his words.

“She doesn’t remember, Mulder.”

But as I walked carefully into his office, almost afraid of what I might find, his words just didn’t seem to matter. Because the sight of her standing there drove every single thought from my mind as the mantra started up once again.

She’s alive. Oh Christ she’s alive.

And not only was she alive, she looked completely normal in every way. Better than normal in fact. She looked exquisitely beautiful, impeccable, controlled. Until she locked eyes with me and I saw the fear and confusion that radiated from within them.

The tremor in her voice that she tried unsuccessfully to hide from me.

“Mulder?.....”

And I had been quite unable to prevent myself from crossing the few feet that separated us, and wrapping my arms around her, breathing in the scent of her, the essence that was Scully as the tears filmed my eyes, born of a relief so intense I think I would have collapsed if she hadn’t been there to hold me up.

And right then, I didn’t care as to what might come later, the difficulties that would surely arrive to cloud this day for us both. Because she was alive, she was here, and I was pretty sure she was once again whole.

But alongside that was knowledge that she was balanced precariously on the edge. That whatever happened from here on in, her life had changed forever; because a part of it had been stolen from her even as the rest had been given back.

He giveth and he taketh away. Because he has the power, right?

And it wasn’t lost on me that this time he had taken from both of us.

I had gently led Scully to the small, utilitarian sofa that sat against the wall in Skinner's office. Pushing her down on to it and hunkering down in front of her, taking her shaking hands in mine as I sought answers that might allow us both to understand.

“Do you know what day it is Scully”

“It’s Tuesday”

There was absolutely no hesitation in her voice.

But today is Friday.

And even despite the information Skinner had briefly furnished me with as to her current recollection of recent history, it still shocked me to hear her tremulously proclaim that it was September when in actuality, it hadn’t been September for almost seven months. Seven months since she discovered the cancer was back, discovered she was dying. Seven months. Gone. Taken from her just like that.

And it became clear that while she could ‘remember’ being at her apartment this morning preparing herself for the day ahead, that the memory was wholly false. Because I think I would have noticed if Scully had been wandering around following her morning rituals and I was damn sure that the only occupants of her home this morning had consisted of me and my myriad of dark thoughts.

She could remember in minute detail the events of yesterday – or at least her perception of yesterday – and as she recounted them to me, her recollections seemed vaguely familiar; the case we had been working on, the thick turkey salad sandwiches she had fetched us from the deli across the street when we decided to eat lunch in the office. The fact they had put pickle on mine even though she had asked them not to.

The memories were completely new and fresh in her mind, just as though their events had happened only yesterday. Which to Scully of course, they had.

And Inasmuch as it was worrying and perplexing and unexplainable, I knew that there were far more pressing matters that required our attention. Especially since, on gently swiping away her hair from where it lay, vibrant and glossy against her neck, I wasn’t even remotely surprised to find evidence of the fresh, still healing cut that marred her porcelain skin; absolute and irrefutable evidence that whatever had happened that night in her apartment just five short days ago, had had nothing at all to do with Scully’s free will.

She had been summoned.

Directed.

Just as we had been directed for so many years.

Explaining to her the events of the last few painful months fell to me of course and as I sat in Skinner's office trying to make her understand just how enormous the stakes had been, one thing became obvious. That she couldn’t be told about the relationship we had shared.

That to know what else had been taken from her might very well break her. Bad enough that the life she knew had disappeared, even worse to find a life she had no knowledge of had also been taken away.

And as I observe her now, sat miserably on the hard hospital bed, knees drawn up against her chest, arms wrapped around them I know that she has thrown her walls back up.

An act of protection to keep her from falling. Desperately hanging on to herself amidst such internal chaos as she tries to make sense of everything she has learned.

And not telling her will surely break me.

But I keep reminding myself over and over that she is alive.

And that has to be enough.

Continued chapter two

[allyinthekeyofx]

Fading Light 14/24

Fading Light

AllyinthekeyofX

Chapter 13 and links to chapters 1-12 can be found here

PART THREE

CHAPTER ONE

It’s been an exhausting day for us both I think and as I surreptitiously glance across the small room to where Scully is sat atop the bed, my emotions threaten once again to almost overwhelm me. Because she’s alive. She is well. And she is here.

But the costs it seems have been enormous for her; for us.

Because she cannot remember; she cannot remember any of it.

The call from Skinner had dragged me from a fitful sleep and the sound of the phone trilling in my ear from where I had left it, not six inches away from me lest news of her should come, had caused me to bolt awake with the same feeling of hope and dread that had become all too familiar since she had gone missing five days before.

Five short days.

Five days that had seemed to me like a lifetime.

Five days were I couldn’t eat without throwing up, couldn’t sleep without nightmares of her laying somewhere cold and dark, the back of her head missing and the gun clutched in her hand coming to plague me. Five days where I thought I had lost her and, not surprisingly, had lost myself right along with her.

Skinner had refused to let me anywhere near the investigation and subsequent desperate search for her after, with my usual aplomb; I had managed to blot my copybook before the first day had even gone by. After hearing one of the hastily appointed task force agents, a slimy little brown-nosed bastard named Rigg, lean in to his equally smarmy sidekick and proclaim the absolute futility and waste of man-power to afford so much time and resource on searching for a dead woman.

It had taken three agents to drag me off the oily piece of shit and I think if Skinner hadn’t intervened, his voice being the only one that managed to cut through the red mist that had descended upon me so completely, I would have killed him right there and then in the conference room.

As it was he got away lightly with nothing more than a heavy case of busted pride and I earned myself a seven day suspension while OPR considered my eventual punishment. But the suspension itself hadn’t bothered me unduly because no punishment they might meet out to me could even come close to making me feel any worse than I already had.

Skinner had driven me home himself. I think he thought he owed it to me after effectively blocking my access from the investigation and while I sat and seethed with unrequited revenge, deep down I knew he had done the right thing. That I was way too close to have even a shred of objectivity any more. And before he had left, he had dropped a hand on my shoulder; a wholly uncharacteristic gesture from this most tightly controlled of men, his expression such a mix of compassion and steely determination that I was unable to speak.

“We will find her Mulder.”

And I had nodded numbly, even then not really believing that she had any intention of being found.

Which was ironic as it turned out, because in fact, Scully was the one who had found him; had found us.

I can only imagine his complete and utter shock that morning when he had turned and seen her standing in his office; a Scully, who while a little thinner than she had been six months ago when the cancer had started to take hold, to all intents and purposes looked and acted completely normally. From the tips of her customary three inched heeled ‘come fuck me’ shoes to the top of her impeccably styled hair she stood in Skinners office looking every inch the consummate professional.

Oh yeah, Scully had always known how to make an entrance.

I had literally thrown myself out of her apartment and in to my car, and had negotiated the rush hour traffic that clogged the DC streets like a man possessed. In fact I can’t believe I didn’t kill myself or even worse, some other poor bastard, because I arrived at the parking garage of the Hoover building with absolutely no conscious recollection of how I’d got there.

Because the mantra that had begun repeating itself in my head before I had even ended Skinner’s call had simply increased in volume and urgency inside me until it effectively blotted everything out.

She’s alive. She’s alive.

Skinner had not really furnished me with too many details during the call. I think mainly because he was smart enough to realise that I would be incapable of moving past the fact that she was still with us. That I needed in some small way to process the unbelievable before I could even hope to allow anything else to crowd it out of my conscious thought.

It wasn’t until I reached skinner’s office that he even attempted to explain and despite my need to push past him to see for myself that she was really there, something in his expression gave me pause to hear his words.

“She doesn’t remember, Mulder.”

But as I walked carefully in to his office, almost afraid of what I might find, his words just didn’t seem to matter. Because the sight of her standing there drove every single thought from my mind as the mantra started up once again.

She’s alive. Oh Christ she’s alive.

And not only was she alive, she looked completely normal in every way. Better than normal in fact. She looked exquisitely beautiful, impeccable, controlled. Until she locked eyes with me and I saw the fear and confusion that radiated from within them.

The tremor in her voice that she tried unsuccessfully to hide from me.

“Mulder?.....”

And I had been quite unable to prevent myself from crossing the few feet that separated us, and wrapping my arms around her, breathing in the scent of her, the essence that was Scully as the tears filmed my eyes, born of a relief so intense I think I would have collapsed if she hadn’t been there to hold me up.

And right then, I didn’t care as to what might come later, the difficulties that would surely arrive to cloud this day for us both. Because she was alive, she was here, and I was pretty sure she was once again whole.

But alongside that was knowledge that she was balanced precariously on the edge. That whatever happened from here on in, her life had changed forever; because a part of it had been stolen from her even as the rest had been given back.

He giveth and he taketh away. Because he has the power, right?

And it wasn’t lost on me that this time he had taken from both of us.

I had gently led Scully to the small, utilitarian sofa that sat against the wall in Skinners office. Pushing her down on to it and hunkering down in front of her, taking her shaking hands in mine as I sought answers that might allow us both to understand.

“Do you know what day it is Scully”

“It’s Tuesday”

There was absolutely no hesitation in her voice.

But today is Friday.

And even despite the information Skinner had briefly furnished me with as to her current recollection of recent history, it still shocked me to hear her tremulously proclaim that it was September when in actuality, it hadn’t been September for almost seven months. Seven months since she discovered the cancer was back, discovered she was dying. Seven months. Gone. Taken from her just like that.

And it became clear that while she could ‘remember’ being at her apartment this morning preparing herself for the day ahead, that the memory was wholly false. Because I think I would have noticed if Scully had been wandering around following her morning rituals and I was damn sure that the only occupants of her home this morning had consisted of me and my myriad of dark thoughts.

She could remember in minute detail the events of yesterday – or at least her perception of yesterday – and as she recounted them to me, her recollections seemed vaguely familiar; the case we had been working on, the thick turkey salad sandwiches she had fetched us from the deli across the street when we decided to eat lunch in the office. The fact they had put pickle on mine even though she had asked them not to.

The memories were completely new and fresh in her mind, just as though their events had happened only yesterday. Which to Scully of course, they had.

And In as much as it was worrying and perplexing and unexplainable, I knew that there were far more pressing matters that required our attention. Especially since, on gently swiping away her hair from where it lay, vibrant and glossy against her neck, I wasn’t even remotely surprised to find evidence of the fresh, still healing cut that marred her porcelain skin; absolute and irrefutable evidence that whatever had happened that night in her apartment just five short days ago, had had nothing at all to do with Scully’s free will.

She had been summoned.

Directed.

Just as we had been directed for so many years.

Explaining to her the events of the last few painful months fell to me of course and as I sat in Skinners office trying to make her understand just how enormous the stakes had been, one thing became obvious. That she couldn’t be told about the relationship we had shared.

That to know what else had been taken from her might very well break her. Bad enough that the life she knew had disappeared, even worse to find a life she had no knowledge of had also been taken away.

And as I observe her now, sat miserably on the hard hospital bed, knees drawn up against her chest, arms wrapped around them I know that she has thrown her walls back up.

An act of protection to keep her from falling. Desperately hanging on to herself amidst such internal chaos as she tries to make sense of everything she has learned.

And not telling her will surely break me.

But I keep reminding myself over and over that she is alive.

And that has to be enough.

Continued chapter 15