#sorry old memories unlocked there for a second

[kimmkitsuragi]

bro i just found my old pen case covered with gaga stickers KSKKSDJFH

[brainrotzora]

these things are always happening to the ones i like :////////

anyways the lighting in this dungeon is so nice

didn't get any good pics bc i was too busy dungeoning but so pretty...best dungeon music so far goes to snowcloak though btw

[hiyashortking]

You Catch Lucifer Masturbating

Disclaimers and credit: read this post before reading any of my content, please.

Premise: Inspired by @venomhound's prompt list found here for the prompt: you catch them masturbating. My tenses are all fucked up in this one and I've chosen not to edit it to make sure it all matches ✌️.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

He’d forgotten that he asked you to stop by when you had a moment this week to drop off some bullshit he didn’t actually care about. He was just looking for an excuse to see you again, especially against the backdrop of his room. But depression and trauma do some fucked up shit to one’s brain because he forgot this scheme and left his door unlocked, and you came wandering in when he had his cock in his hand and your panties on his face.

How did he get your panties? A story for another time …

On the bright side, he temporarily cured himself of his desperate want to be around you. If someone had told him last month that he’d be actively avoiding you and would actually go back to his old place to get away from you, he would have put money on it. Unless it was Husk, of course. He was bordering on being obsessed with you, so desperate for just a glance at your face most days. And now? Hiding in shame.

The King of Hell, hiding from a simple little undead. It would be laughable if it wasn’t so pathetic.

You knocked on his door.

Like the true diva he was, he was in his bed eating ice cream and chocolates, surrounded by the fluffiest of his duckies. The only thing he’d managed to get out of bed for every day was his long, hot as fuck shower, during which he would not allow himself to stroke his cock. Punishment was something Lucifer had been taught well, and now he was enacting it on himself.

You knocked again.

He cleared his throat. A “who is it” came out with a squeak, which made him clear his throat and ask again in a tone with more authority.

“Hey, it’s me. I will never not knock again, I promise.”

How could you even joke about this?

W-wait, it was YOU at the door?

He jumped out of bed and fumbled around, trying to make his room look cleaner. He opened the window for fresh air, but the air of hell wasn’t fresh at all so he’d closed it again.

“I hope it’s okay, Charlie let me into the palace."

“Y-yes, of course. I’ll be right there. Is-is Charlie with you?” Where were his clothes? He wore the same fucking outfit every day for millennia, one would think it would be easy to get quickly dressed. The closet! Of course, that’s where clothes would be!

“She and Vaggie are downstairs. I didn’t tell her what happened but she got worried when she called you and you didn’t pick up. She said you’d done that in the past but that you’d been really attentive to her lately so she wanted to make sure you were okay …”

Running a hand through his hair, he opened the door and leaned with the other hand on the doorframe, trying to obscure your vision of his bedroom. He looked as gorgeous as always. Since you hadn’t seen him in a while, his smile seemed even prettier today. His hair looked so soft, you wanted to reach out and run your own fingers through it. He smelled amazing. Why hadn’t you ever realized how form-fitting his clothes were? You felt as if you were seeing him for the first time.

“Hey, bitch,” he says, and immediately regrets it. But his smile only falters for a second.

You chuckle. He always makes you smile and laugh like a fool. “Well, you seem to be doing just fine! I don’t know why Charlie and I were so worried!”

He imitates your chuckle and tries to push away memories of why he is avoiding you. But wait- shouldn’t he be apologizing? His smile disappears when his thoughts race of what you must have thought and how he probably made you feel and-

“Y/N, I am so, so, so, sososososo sorry,” he lets out, almost as if his body deflates with each sound. His tail is out and literally between his legs.

“It’s o-”

He steps toward you abruptly and closes his door behind him. “Let’s sit down,” he takes your hand absent-mindedly as he focuses on which room to bring you into. Not his office. Not the librar- maybe the library? Didn’t you love reading? Maybe he could distract you with all the books!

He only realizes he is holding your hand when you’re at the center of one of his smallest, coziest libraries. “Oh fuck, oh shit, I’m so sorry I didn’t realize-”

“Lucifer, stop!” You plead.

He takes a deep, sharp inhale, his face awake with surprise, holds the breath, and releases it slowly, tilting his head up and relaxing his shoulders as he does.

“Thank you,” you say in unison, and then grin like the fools you both are.

“Please sit down,” he says as he does the same on the sofa across from yours. “May I get you something to drink?”

You noticed there were servants downstairs who were catering to the princess and her partner but who did not follow you up to the second floor.

“I’m just happy to see you, I’ve been struggling to think about anything else since you left.”

You’d been thinking about him since he left? He’d been gone for weeks!

“I’m so sorry to have worried you. As you can see, I am fine and dandy. Well- not entirely dandy, I’m obviously very much attracted to all the genders- I mean-”

Fuck, you missed him. One second the picture of elegance, and the next tripping over his words. When you caught him stroking his cock, with your used underwear on his face, you let yourself lean into all of the thoughts you hadn’t allowed when you assumed it would be impossible to be on his radar. And then he had the audacity to disappear, leaving you alone with just your fantasies.

Though you called him several times, you did doubt the situation you had seen. He was the King of Hell! Why would he be interested in you, all of being in hell? Maybe he just had a panty fetish and it didn’t mean anything that they were yours. Did this feel personal because it was, or because you desperately wanted it to be?

Wait, what was he saying?

“I’m so sorry to have worried you. As you can see, I am fine and dandy. Well- not entirely dandy, I’m obviously very much attracted to all the genders- I mean- wait- is dandy still an insinuation of being gay? Was it ever? Anyway, I’m not fully gay! Obviously! I mean-”

He was so fucking cute. You could listen to him ramble all day. “I honestly didn’t think you were going to see me, so I didn’t think about what I would say if you did. I’m just really happy to see you. I’m sorry I didn’t think this through more. I just want to be in the same room as you again.”

It wasn’t difficult to stun this man into a moment of silence, but the silence rarely lasted. He cleared his throat. “I, uh, I wanted to give you some space. I am obviously deeply apologetic for my behavior.” 

Was he struggling to look at you? Is the most powerful man in all of hell blushing and avoiding your eyes? Fuck, why was this turning you on?

“Please tell me if there is anything, anything in all of Hell I can do to gain your forgiveness. I will, of course, entirely understand if it would be impossible for you to forgive me, but I would be doing myself a disservice if I didn’t at least ask.”

“Luci, may we be blunt?”

He nodded.

“What exactly do you want me to forgive you for?”

What? What exactly? For being a creepy, rude, disrespectful, vile, impish-

“I think I want some clarity about why you think I’m upset with you,” you added.

“Well, you- … I- ... wasn’t what I did bad?”

“Bad?”

He hated how the thoughts I’ve been a bad boy intruded into his mind, but here he fucking was again, with his fucking trauma getting in the way of a new relationship, not to mention how fucking cliche. Wait- a possible relationship? You were here, seeking him out, confessing to thinking about him, not being mad at him for crossing boundaries, maybe not even wanting those boundaries to begin with? Was he letting some fucked up negative core belief about being "bad", whatever the fuck that meant, ruin something he could have with you?

“Oh, Luci,” you rose from your spot and kneeled in front of him as you would if you wanted to help a child feel less intimidated. “Can we just forget this happened? Maybe not all of it, because it led me to assuming I might have a chance with you. So, I guess, let’s maybe just keep the part where you might be attracted to me, and forget any other misconceptions?”

“A chance with me?”

You nodded and waited patiently for him to process.

“You would want a chance with me?”

You nod again, smiling. Waiting.

How had he only then realized you were on your knees in front of him?

He slid from the couch to join you on the floor, and scooped you up with ease to settle you sideways in his lap. He couldn’t think of you on your knees just then.

He felt welcomed by you, but realized that wasn’t consent. “Is this okay?” he asked.

“Yes, Luci, you can touch me anytime you like and you can touch any part of me you’d like to touch. I love, love, love being touched,” you emphasized. "Is it okay if I touch you, too?" you asked him.

Baffled, he nodded. "Yes. My word! Yes, enthusiastically! Yes, please!"

Did this grown ass man just quiver?

Oh shit, were you feeling him getting hard?

You seemed to share a brain cell in that moment because he apologized again, his arms loosely around you. “I haven’t- … done what you’d seen me doing- … since that day, so my body is-”

Whenever he got shy and apologetic, you wanted to respond with nurturing, but this time a second feeling won over and you laughed and hid your face in his neck.

“Lucifer Morningstar, you were so upset that I might think the King of Hell is immoral that you haven’t come in weeks?” The ridiculousness was too much to bear. Fuck, and he smelled amazing. You let yourself nuzzle into him, enjoying the feeling of his flesh. Did he have flesh? What were y’all made of down here? You rubbed your nose gently against his neck, enjoying how even the slightest touch connected you.

“That is correct,” was almost the truth, as he did not take responsibility for the things his body did while he was sleeping.

He let himself lean against the sofa a bit, enjoying you snuggling against him. He closed his eyes and tried his best to relax. Breathe in, hold, breathe out. Breathe in-

“You amusing, wonderful little fool,” you whispered, and when you did your lips brushed against his neck, and you were certain then that he had shivered.

You were not making it easy for him to settle down. You often wondered how he managed to go from tense to relaxed and then back to tense so easily. And these were his reactions when you were on your best behavior. How would he respond if you intentionally teased him? Shhh, brain, not now, you pleaded with yourself.

“Not everything about me is little,” he said back with some confidence.

“I know, remember?” You move your head to see his face. Fuck, you weren’t supposed to bully him! The man was vulnerable! Could you just chill for today?!

“Ugh!” he groaned. Had he been blushing before that remark, or was it only just now?

Seeing your smile helped ease him again and he wondered aloud, “maybe I need to walk in on you touching yourself thinking about me, so we can be even?”

“That would be challenging since I don’t really masturbate.”

“You don’t mas- what?”

“I prefer fucking.”

“You prefer fucking?”

“Yes, or being pleasured by someone else. I must just not be good at it or something, I’m not a big fan of solo play.”

“You’re not-”

“Are you just going to repeat everything I say?” You chuckle, realizing you’d been obliviously playing with his hair. You had the fingers of one hand at the back of his head, tugging gently and releasing, while the other battled with his hair's softness in the front, refusing to stay put where you'd wanted it to be.

“I might just, until something you say doesn’t wildly surprise me.”

You take pride in being able to surprise someone who came into existence at the beginning of time.

You’re also glad he positioned you this way in his lap, so you could more easily hide how wet this exchange was making you. What the fuck was your kink, powerful men being vulnerable? You couldn’t have just been into feet or something? Great, now there was an image of Lucifer kissing your feet in your brain. In boots. That he bought for you. With his endless hell currency. Fuck.

“I guess I’ll have to abstain a little longer," he mused. "Because now all I want is to turn you on so much that you can’t stop touching yourself.”

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

[honeyxbunny99]

Sandor Clegane~ The Bitch and The Hound pt.5

You rolled over onto your other side and woke in a start when your arm ran into something big. You gasped, having never woken to a man in your bed. Then memory struck that the muscled hairy frame beside you belonged to your husband, who had just fucked you into perhaps the best sleep you'd ever had. You smiled to yourself as you watched his body gently heave up and down, hearing him snore. You sat up in bed, covering your chest with a sheet and leaning over to trace small infinity symbols on his bicep.

Your husband grumbled and his hand snapped to your wrist.

"It's me." You assured, kissing his shoulder and placing your other hand on top of his.

"I know it's you... That tickled." He smirked, rolling over and pushing you back down to the bed. You squealed as he hovered on top of you again. "What is this bullshit?" He looked at the sheet and pulled it down to expose your breasts, resulting in another gasp from you. "There they are."

He sighed heavily and laid his head down on your chest, crushing you. You giggled, "Get up."

"Go back to sleep."

You tried to struggle beneath him but he was dead weight. He began snoring exaggeratedly and you squirmed.

"Ooh, careful, I like that." He warned and you stopped immediately, hitting him gently on the shoulder but smiling brightly when he looked at you. ~He's smiling! Really smiling! At me! He likes me!~ You blushed under his gaze before grabbing his face with both hands and joining your lips together in a quick, chaste kiss.

A knock sounded at the door and the handle jiggled up and down.

"(Y/n)? Are you okay in there?"

It was Anna on the other side of the door. You felt like you were doing something wrong and began scrambling, whispering, "What are we gonna do?!"

Sandor laughed at your worried expression. "What if your husband finds out?"

You narrowed your eyes pointedly at him and faked a laugh. He finally raised up from you and you saw he was still naked. "Hide!" You whispered.

"I-I'm fine, Anna, just one second."

"HIDE?!?" Sandor mocked you, matching your whisper. "Are you ashamed of me now?"

"Sandor, your cock is out." He looked down and then turned to you, hands on his hips. "All the more reason to stay put."

"Go, please!" You begged, getting up and quickly putting on a robe before shoving him into the closet. You ran back to the door and cleared your throat, grabbing the key and unlocking it to reveal a very confused Anna. "Hello, my love." You greeted her.

"(Y/n) what happened last night?" She entered the room and sat down on the bed, making herself at home.

"Well, straight into it then, huh?"

"You woke me in the middle of the night to bring bathwater for the hound... Yes, straight into it."

You sat down with her and sighed, praying your husband would keep quiet in the closet and not scare the spirit out of your friend. "Last night, I..." You tried not to stammer and choose your words carefully, knowing he was most likely listening. "I don't know, I just wanted to be kind to him... Anna... He killed for me."

Anna widened her eyes. "Killed who?"

"I don't know, some member of the Kings guard... He was spreading rumors about me and Sandor just turned on him... I think he's warming up to me." You smiled softly, looking down at your hands which you'd joined with hers.

"I think he likes killing." She said coldly, surprising you. "I'm sorry, milady, but I heard what the queen regent said yesterday, and I think she's right... After the way he's been treating you, with a man like that in your life, you'll never have love." She trailed off, regretting the disappointed expression she'd caused on your face. "Except me, (Y/n), of course. I love you!" She wrapped her arms quickly around your shoulders and you pat her gently on the back, though you were offended at her words and truthfully did not want to be holding her at all. "You're too kind and beautiful for that old dog."

"Sandor." You reminded her.

"Sandor... Does he call you by your name?" She quipped, not knowing of all the intimacy you'd shared behind closed doors. She looked back at the sheets and you both saw the blood. She shook her head, her eyes growing angry. "Forgive me, milady, but I won't call him that. You're an angel and he's a dog. Look at what he's done to you, again." She stroked her fingers down your cheek and stood up. "I'll launder these right away, you just rest, (Y/n)."

You watched the closet silently as she stripped the bedding, feeling so horribly embarrassed and sad for your husband. You hadn't expected her to be cruel to him, though you supposed now you should have seen it coming. Anna left the room, closing the door and you stood slowly when Sandor did not emerge.

"Sandor..." You called. "I'm so sorry for what she said about you..." You approached the closet.

"Cersei said that?" You heard him shuffle around.

"Yes... When she pulled me aside in the garden yesterday... She was trying to scare me, but it didn't work."

"No," he emerged, pants and shirt on. "S'pose not seein' as how you drew me a bath instead of ran for the hills."

"Please don't be angry with Anna... I understand if you are, but she only knows what it looks like... The bruises, the blood, the loneliness."

He nodded but would not smile at you any longer.

"Thank you..." You started. He scoffed. "For the bruises?" He looked almost ashamed.

"Yes." You surprised him. "I know that everything you've done has been to protect me... You've made yourself out to be a villain and me a helpless damsel, but that's not what this is. I want to tell Anna about you, about us."

"Bad idea." He walked past you to find his boots.

"She deserves to know the truth, she'll love the real you, as I do, I just know it."

"Fuck what Anna or anyone else thinks about me!" He startled you, turning around to look you in the eyes. "As long as I have you. You're the only one I want to know me, got it?" He walked to you and held your face between his hands, forcing you to look up at him. "If other people know about us, it will only end badly."

You were confused by his desires to keep his kindness a secret, but you nodded anyways. He leaned down and planted a kiss on your forehead.

"Will you be punished for staying in so late?" You wondered aloud as he pulled on his boots. You had never seen him in the morning, after all.

"Today Joffrey is meeting with his small counsel. Not much risk there so I was given the morning off. Still, I best be gone now."

You nodded and helped him quickly put his armor back on. You opened the door for him and watched him leave without another look back at you. "Will you come to me again tonight?" You felt silly asking, like you had a childish crush. You watched the back of his head nod and you smiled and bit your lip.

You walked through the castle halls with Anna and cringed whenever she spoke poorly about 'the hound'. "I swear, the mountain should have just finished the job back when they were boys and everyone'd be better for it--"

You couldn't take it anymore, and you grabbed her by her arms and shoved her up against a wall. "Enough." You hissed. Her eyes were wild with shock and you almost felt bad. "Sandor is my husband. I will not have you wishing death, calling him ugly, cruel, anything of the sort. You know nothing about him!"

"Milady, I am--"

"Everything you think about him is false. He has been kind to me, has sacrificed for me in ways you can't imagine." You released our grip on her finally, embarrassed you had let your emotions get the best of you. "I am sorry, but when you lash out against his name, you lash out against mine now."

Anna did not say anything for a very long time, only stared at you. Finally, she asked, "Are you in love with Sandor Clegane?"

You thought on her question for a moment, breathing deeply. "No..." You settled. A soft, barely noticeable smile tugged at her mouth.

"And I'm not a handmaid." She replied. You smiled softly back at her, knowing she saw the lie in your tone as soon as you spoke it. "You're going to have to explain to me how that happened." She chuckled and offered her arm out to take yours again. You hesitated but eventually joined her side again. The pair of you walked back to your room smiling.

You decided to leave out the first night, only discussing the last two nights you'd spent together. You tried to explain the events as plainly as they happened, highlighting Sandor's best moments, but occasisonally you would get distracted and blush talking about how he looked or how his touch felt against you. Even Anna would blush and giggle with you.

"And well, this morning when I woke up, he was still there..." You began and she gasped.

"He wasn't-- When I came in and-- Oh no!" She hid her face in embarrassment. You comforted her.

"He was, I made him hide in the closet. I don't know why I just didn't want him to scare you, I guess. I didn't know if he wanted you to know we were together..."

"Milday Clegane, I offer a thousand apologies for my stupid tongue!" She shook her head. "I'll apologize to Sandor as soon as I see him."

"No, don't!" You raised your eyebrows. "He can't know that you know!"

"Why not?" She furrowed her brows.

You sighed, "I don't know, all I do know is that he told me if anyone found out the truth about us it could be bad..."

She nodded slowly. "He fears for your safety... You're meant to be tortured, not cumming and falling in love."

Your eyes widened and you both laughed, leaning into each other.

"No, he's right... It's best no one knows. Someone could report it to Joffrey and you'd be put in a much worse position than you are now."

Your stomach flipped at the thought. You wondered for a moment about Anna, if you should have trusted her with all this information. Your heart sank at the realization that you had just handed her all that she needed to betray you. "You... You won't tell anyone, will you?"

She narrowed her eyes at you. "(Y/n) they would cut out my tongue before it would speak a word against you... Or your husband." She nodded, and with the conviction in her voice, you had to trust her. "I still say that he's a lucky man... But with the way you've described him last night, I can see the appeal." She laughed and you gawked.

Anna braided your hair and told you about her own sexual encounter last night after the tournament. Later she left the room to fetch your dinner and you laid back on your bed.

"An open door, hiding behind it the prettiest girl in Kings Landing." An unfamiliar voice called from the hall. You sat up suspiciously and peeked your head to try to see. The hall looked empty from where you were standing, and so you walked closer to your door and peeked your head around the corner.

You gasped, "Gods!" before smiling to match the stranger's.

"I'm sorry to frighten you, dear, that was not my intent."

"And what was your intent, calling out to me so ominously?" You joked.

"I wanted to see you. I meant to introduce myself at your wedding, though you looked a bit fearful, so I stayed back... Petyr Baelish." He offered a small bow.

"(Y/n) (L/n)-- Clegane." You stuttered, correcting yourself. In truth, you hadn't introduced yourself post marriage before. You supposed you'd better start practicing. He smiled wider at your mistake.

"Yes, yes I know..." He didn't seem to be budging so finally you stepped out fully into the hall, ever conscious of your open door and the setting sun. "I wish to offer you my condolences; I heard tales of your abuse in the throne room, and now to be married to man called 'Hound'... It's not a fate fitting of such a beauty."

You tried to smile at his compliment, but his prescence felt almost threatening--snake like. "Thank you, Lord Baelish... I am safe and my family is safe, and that is all that matters to me now."

"Safe?" He quirked a brow. "Do you feel safe with him? With The Hound?"

Your mouth went dry, and you felt as if you were being interrogated for some crime. "He is as they describe him, but it's nothing I can't handle."

"Oh yes, you're very strong; of that I'm certain... I lost a girl to him once." He shook his head. "You see I'm in the purveyance of pleasure, the finest house in the land for it..." He looked around the hall proudly before focusing his eyes back on you, scanning you up and down. "One night, he came to my hall... Asked for a girl, a young girl. I don't deal in children and so I gave him the youngest I had at the time; a girl about your age. She'd come to me from the street, begging for shelter in exchange for her services; said she couldn't survive another day alone out there. I took her in... When I gave her to the hound that night, she looked frightened, and I suppose she should have been."

You studied him and tried not to let on that his story was indeed beginning to frighten you.

"The next morning, she packed her things and told me she had to leave. She couldn't bare the risk of seeing his face again, letting him touch her. She said 'I'd rather die in the street, than be raped by that monster again.'" Petyr swiped his tongue across his lips and leaned in closer to you, you unconsciously mirroring him. "I thought she was weak, at the time. But looking back on it all these years, without another incident from him, I've wondered what he'd done to frighten her so. When I heard of your betrothal, I pitied you. I wondered how long it would take before you chose death as well... Yet here you are, smiling and safe… Now, you've rendered me curious."

His eyes lit up as he concluded, but you were horrified. You closed your mouth and tried to fix your expression. "I..."

"He was stalking outside my pleasure house the night after your wedding night, drunk and angry... It was bad for business." He dropped casually and you bit your tongue.

"Tell me, my dear... Has this marriage been consummated?" Your eyes widened and you reared your head back in offence.

"Ask the maester. Ask my handmaiden." You said with venom in your tone, but he only smirked.

"I am asking you."

You nodded. "As I said, its nothing I can't handle. He is my punishment for speaking ill to King Joffrey, and I accept it. It is a fate befitting a bitch like me, as he said."

"I worry only for your honor, my lady." He leaned forward with another small bow and this time reached his hand out to take yours. You reluctantly obliged and allowed him to bring your hand to his mouth. "And for the women in my employ." He kissed your knuckles and acknowledged the soft bruising on your wrist. He cupped his hands around yours. "A flower means nothing to a man so violent... Do hold strong, Lady Clegane. If you ever need me, you can send Anna to me. She knows the way." He gave his sly smile again and you narrowed your brows at his knowledge of Anna.

"I'll keep it in mind..." You spoke lowly now. You couldn't put into words why you were so uncomfortable. He made no outright threats to you, no insults, and you'd heard no rumors about any dastardly deeds. Almost effortlessly, though, it felt as if he saw right through you.

You heard Anna's steps come closer until she looked up and saw Lord Baelish. Her steps slowed and her eyes cast down. "A pleasure." He nodded to you, and you nodded back, watching as he disappeared silently down another hall.

"What did he say to you?!" She questioned immediately, concern in her eyes.

"I-- Nothing."

"He never says nothing. He tries to confuse people, manipulate them, but he's always talking." She hurried past you and set the food tray onto the table.

"He told me a story about Sandor..." You were still coming to terms with it yourself. Could he have really hurt that girl so much?

Anna walked up to you and grabbed your hands to ground you. "Listen to me. He says nothing for the benefit of others. Only himself. It's best not to listen to a word he says. Just put it out of your mind."

"But, Anna.." your eyes began to well with tears of panic, reflecting on the conversation. "He questioned our marriage... What if he knows, what if he saw somehow that I love him?!"

"Then he'll think you're a stupid girl! Sandor will not budge, he doesn't speak positively of anyone. I'm sure he's still going around with his usual grimace." She assured and you steadied your breathing. "But maybe it's not enough... Maybe you need to play your part better. If he won't hut you anymore then you need to stay inside for a while. I will bring you all your meals and should anyone ask, you are unwell." You nodded.

"This is so ridiculous.” You sniffled. “Sandor’s nowhere near the monster everyone thinks he is.”

“Well you’d better start acting like he is.” She ordered. “You’re Joffrey’s prisoner whether he said it outright or not, and The Hound is your keeper. Love him in private, hate him in public.” You nodded, though you could not deny the sadness brewing in your heart at the thought.

Just then, the door swung open to reveal Sandor. “Out.”

Anna looked at you for an extra second to ensure you understood before she nodded at your husband and exited. Immediately he began to remove his armor and you wrang your hands together once to calm your nerves. You were so worried you had done something wrong and that your relationship would crumble any moment. You turned on your heel and walked over to him to help with his armor. As soon as you came to touch him he stopped his actions and looked over your face. When you had released the last piece from its lacing, he took your face in one of his hands and forced your eyes up to him.

“You’re upset. What happened now?”

You tried to gently pull your face back but he held onto it so easily. “Nothing’s happened. I’m not upset.” You tried to smile, though his fingers squeezed your cheeks.

“You’re as bad a liar as I am a dancer.” He released your face and sneered. “Was it that bitch? I’ll call her back here, she shouldn’t be upsetting you.”

“Sandor…” you said, hardly above a whisper, tears of shame threatening to spill past your lashes. “I think I fucked up.”

His face hardened and you held yourself for comfort. “I told Anna—“ “You told Anna what?!” He demanded.

“About last night! I told her… I was just trying to get her to stop saying horrible things about you and then she saw it in my eyes—“

“Saw what in your eyes?!” He looked so angry you shuttered before answering.

“My love for you… She said that it was obvious, that she should have seen it this morning.” Your voice lowered in shame and the tears ultimately slipped out. When you finally looked back at him, his face was angry but his eyes were wide in shock.

“I took her back to the room and told her about last night, about how you swore you would come to me at night to watch over me, how I’ve never felt more at peace than I did last night knowing that you were beside me…”

You waited for a berating but when his face made no change you huffed softly and walked to the bed to sit down. You pouted, feeling once again that you’d ruined everything.

“Do you trust her?” His voice was surprisingly soft.

You thought for a moment, still too ashamed to meet his gaze. “I only trust you… There is no doubt in my heart or mind about who you are to me… But Anna said that she would have her own tongue severed before she spoke against us… she’s never been anything but a friend to me. I trust her, but..”

“But?” He asked and you shut your eyes tightly.

“Do you know a man named Petyr Baelish?” Your eyes focused on his shoes now, still by the door. “Little finger?” He recognized. “I know him, he’s a snake. He’s that little shit’s Master of Coin.”

You were stunned he hadn’t been angry with you yet— you wanted to bash your own head into a wall. “He came to our room… he… He asked me if our marriage had been consummated.. He,” you looked up at him now, nearly accusing him. “said that after our wedding night you were hanging around his whore house.”

He grumbled and kicked a piece of his armor in anger. “That little cunt!” You stood in reaction to his outburst. “I’m not angry with you!”

“You have no right to be!” He retorted as he walked quickly over to the wine. As he drank you steadied your nerves.

“Well, actually—“ you began and he shot you a glare, slamming down the wine causing some to splash upon his hands. You decided to change your tone. “I’m just confused! You’re so worried about someone else finding out that you’re sweet to me, discovering you hadn’t really fucked me, and yet you seek out other women the first opportunity you get?! Of course he thinks our marriage is a sham—“

“I didn’t think—“ “Clearly.” “Shut the fuck up!” He shouted at you, though you weren’t afraid. He marched towards you and lowered his voice into a growl. “I didn’t think I could control myself!” He bared his teeth at you like an animal and you stepped back a bit, smelling the rich wine on his breath. You were confused, so you said nothing. “Do you have any idea how hard I tried to get the image of you naked and trembling out of my head?! I never meant to fuck you, woman, I’m no rapist but—!” He cut himself off and breathed heavily as he looked down into your wide eyes. “I didn’t want to spend another night with you and risk hurting you.. I thought to take it out on someone I could pay..” Looking into his eyes you began to feel bad for your judgment. “I didn’t, though, (Y/n)… I haven’t touched another woman since I met you.”

“You could have had me that night.” You told him, remembering how you waited for him on the bed until tears lulled you into sleep.

He shook his head, eyes focused now on your mouth. “I didn’t think you could ever want me.” He scoffed. “Hell, I still don’t think it.”

You looked at his lips now, wanting him more than ever, before you threw your arms around his neck and collided your mouths in a passionate kiss. “I want you, Sandor! I’m so sorry.” He kissed you back with the heat from the night before. “I don’t want to lose you, I’m such a stupid girl!” You spoke between kisses as his hands pulled you into him.

“It’s alright, princess. Everything,” his breath hitched when you kissed just below his jaw. “will be alright.” He pulled you back by your hair and you let out a small moan that caused his eyes to glaze over with lust.

“Please make me feel safe again.” You begged, sliding your hands down his chest. “Please I want you inside me!”

Your words seemed to flip a switch in him and he growled, picking you up by your ass and you struggled to wrap your legs around his waist quick enough. One hand squeezed your ass and the other pulled your hair just right as he slipped his tongue past your teeth. He slammed your back against the wall and you moaned again in surprise, tongue darting out to stroke his. He pulled away, leaving you breathless and begging with your eyes for more contact.

“I’m not holding back this time, girl. You want me, you’ll get me.” He said it like a threat but it only made the heat in your stomach expand and your thighs clench together in excitement.

“Get on with it then.” You challenged with a smirk. He smiled before dropping to his knees and dipping his head under your skirts. Instantly you moaned at the contact of his tongue on your folds. You threw your head back against the wall, but after only a few strokes from his talented mouth, he was up by your face again. You opened your eyes in surprise, only to hear him say confidently, “Yeah, you’re ready for me.”

You glanced down and watched him take his hard cock in hand and stroke it. “As you are for me.” He smiled and bit his lip for a moment in contemplation. “Not here.” He said and you barely had a chance to furrow your brows before he threw you over his shoulder and carried you into the bathroom. He set you down in front of the damaged mirror and turned you around to face it.

“What are you—“ he ripped your dress down your shoulders exposing your breasts and took one in his hand, looking at you through the reflective glass.

“I want you watch.” He said, voice thick with lust.

He raised of your skirts over your backside and you leaned against the sink. You felt your own wetness slide down your thigh and you closed your eyes in embarrassment. The effect this man had on your body was beyond your imagination. Without warning his hand slapped down on your ass and the head of his cock made circles around your entrance. You moaned, leaning back into him and watched him grit his teeth. And then he was inside you and you felt whole again. Tears sprang to your eyes again as he stretched you in this new position.

“Oh don’t give me that. You can take it, I know you can take it.” He teased, going so deep that you felt his balls press against your sex. Your hand reached back his grab his arm and you blinked your tears away, watching his face morph in pleasure. “That’s it, good girl.” He pulled out slowly, only to slam back in. You yelped in surprise, your nails clawing into his wrist. “So good, for me.” He struggled out pulling you back by your breasts and sinking his teeth into your neck. You moaned and reached up with your other hand to pull at his hair.

He began to thrust in and out of you quickly and you couldn’t hold back the moans. You watched his large dominating figure toy with your nipples and suckle at your neck and you felt just as powerful as he looked, watching him be overcome with lust for you. You leaned down, bent over the sink and he stayed upright, his hands on either side of your hips. You moved your hips back against him meeting his thrusts and watched him moan and groan in surprise, watching your two bodies come together. His nails dug into your ass and your head dipped in pleasure and exhaustion. He changed his angle slightly and hit the secret spot inside you that only he seemed to know about and you cried out, clenching around him.

He brought his hand up to your face and wiped the sweat from your cheek before sticking two fingers in your mouth. You licked and suckled and he panted behind you. “Good girl, don’t cum yet. You can cum when I say..” he instructed. Your face scrunched up in need of release but you did your best to obey.

“Please!” You begged finally, legs going completely weak. He slammed into you so roughly that his balls were hitting your cunt every time perfectly and it made you whimper with each thrust. “Go.” He finally breathed out, taking his fingers out of your mouth and grabbing back into your hips as if it were his life line. He was the only thing holding you up now and you shuttered and clenched around him.

“Shit!” He said and you felt something spill into you before he pulled out and released his seed all over your backside. As soon as he pulled out your legs caved and you crumpled onto the floor, still spasming from your orgasm. You rubbed your sex as he had the night before and felt another wave on pleasure wash over you. You wanted more of him but knew that he was spent. Still, as you looked up at his from the floor, looking like a God to you, you couldn’t help but act on your thoughts. He had done it to you after all.

You raised up onto your knees with little struggle and stroked his thighs with your hands, leaving wet kisses leading up to his dripping cock. “What the fuck are you—“ he gasped when you licked a stripe up the underside of his member. He grabbed your hair instinctually and you looked up at him to make sure he was alright with your actions. You flattened your tongue and licked again, tasting your combined fluids for the first time.

You moaned as you continued to clean all the juices off of him, trying to suck him just as you had done to his fingers. He let out something near a whimper and now both his hands were in your hair, encouraging your motions. You watched his chest heave quickly in excitement as you wrapped your mouth around his tip and swirled your tongue. You wanted all of him and tried your best to take him completely in your mouth. You could feel him twitch inside you and felt with your hands how his thighs began to quiver. You relaxed your throat and moved your hands to cover the rest of his member and stroke in tandem with your mouth. His hand pressed hesitantly against your head. “I want you to come again.” You said, popping him out of your mouth for only a second. “I can’t—“

You pressed on, not convinced by the way his cock was growing ever harder in your mouth. You spit and stroked with your hand and moved your mouth to pleasure his balls, his fingers pulling your hair tighter as he moaned “(Y/n).” He stuttered out and when you looked up you realized he was watching it all play out in the mirror. You switched your hands and your mouth and picked up speed. His breathing grew more intense above you and you heard him mutter curse words when you swirled your tongue around his tip again. He looked down at you in shock and tried to control his hips natural urge to thrust. You stroked him fast with your hands and quickly licked the underside of his head until he groaned and tried to pull away, white pouring out of him again. You whined and leaned forward to claim your prize, controlling him with your hands. You licked and swallowed all that you could, overcome with need for him as the man above you came completely undone, swears spilling out of him like a broken dam. Finally you were done and his legs were as weak as yours now. He joined you on the floor, trying to catch his breath as he looked at you with wonder.

“Good boy.” You said, also breathless. He looked at you for another moment in shock, as you struggled to loosen the ties of your dress, sweating in the tight silk. “Where did you learn that?” You smiled softly, shy again reflecting on your actions from only moments ago. “I didn’t learn it from anywhere.” You said easily. “I just wanted to taste you like you tasted me…”

Finally Sandor rolled his eyes at your struggle and picked you up and spun you around on the floor, undoing the laces at your back with ease. You felt his breath on your neck and you tried to slow your own breathing as he pulled your dress down. “I have never…” He started, leaning down to kiss your shoulder. “Thank you..” he settled. Your face raised in surprise and you turned your head to smile at him. You brought your hand up to the unmarred side of his face and held it gently, pressing your forehead against his. “Anna was right… about the look in my eyes. I didn’t want to admit it before.” You turned to him so he would know you were serious. “I love you, Sandor Clegane. I want all of you, all of the time.”

His eyes practically sparkled at your confession, his expression soft. “You don’t have to say it back…” you smiled, reserved in your confession. “I just want you to know it.”

You pulled his face gently into a kiss that you felt encapsulated all your feelings for him and pulled away with a hum. When you opened your eyes and he opened his, you could almost swear you saw tears brewing. You leaned your head against his sweaty chest and listened to his heart beat for a minute. He looked down at you for a while, contemplating what to say. “Come on, princess.” He raised up and left your dress on the floor, pulling you up and carrying you bridal style. You yawned, dropping your head back against his chest. He laid you down gently in bed and crawled to the other side of you. You turned on your side and felt him undo your braid and comb through your hair with his fingers as you closed your eyes contentedly. He may not have said it that night, but you felt more loved by him than ever before.

Unknown to both of you, however, there was an enemy just outside your door. They smiled and retreated into the shadows, wondering exactly how grateful Joffrey would be for the knowledge of this thrilling turn of events.

[tusswrites]

Some Nights (h.j)

🫢pairing: hong joshua x reader

🫢synopsis: when laundry day takes a turn for the worse—fast

🫢genre: fluff, crack; rating: 16+

🫢word count: 1.7k+ (supposed drabble whoops)

🫢warnings: mentions of death, but it's not that serious (sorry to whoever died in the fic, you were there just for the plot) T.W: self-harm mentions, but reader misread the situation okay? nothin happened fr.

🫢a.n. : I was upset I didn't have a Joshua fic, but apparently a small dig into my trove and I had an old fic I never thought would see the light of the day, because it was a private fic to shu @welcometomyoasis . Anyway it does see the light on his birthday so HAPPY BIRTHDAY Joshua. See you down south for more notes.

check out the masterlist here!

Pedal to the metal, your mind whirs out the last few days of conversation, pulling out each molecule of the word that you’ve exchanged with him, trying to come up with some memory to nail his soon-to-be fatal. action. What could drive him to the ledge on this starry night you think? A leviathan of worry has blossomed from deep within, your mind cannot rest till you reach him right this instant. 

“Pick up. Pick up. Why are you not picking up, Hong Joshua?” It’s unlike him to avoid your calls. You were his priority; there’s never been a moment you’ve doubted that. His phone could only be unlocked with your face—much like parts of him were hidden away, only you were able to fathom what he truly felt. When his hums turned noncommittal, when the nods lost fervor, and when the smile ceased to reach his eyes, you knew it was time for lockdowns in the apartment. You and he, paired out in couple pajamas, matching each other's quirks in absurd face masks and cucumbers, binging reruns of The Real Housewives.

“I wish that this all would end” What would end? Is this what it’ll trickle down to? Were your movie nights pointless? Did prancing around in matching oversized tees and going pantless, holding concerts in the kitchen with spatulas as microphones mean nothing to him at all? Where did this even start for it to end like this?

 “I could use some friends for a change”

Is that what this is? Has he gotten into a kerfuffle with his bandmates? Did the recent rumors and blatant lies spread by the press cause rifts between his friends? And what about you? Did his random middle-of-the-night calls from a foreign country because he couldn’t fall asleep without hearing your sweet voice, (never mind the fact that you were time zones away) mean nothing to him? 

“I'm scared you'll forget me again” For that, you wanna smack right across his face hopefully slapping the stupid away in a blatant show of violence. How could anyone ever forget him? How could he ever think you would forget him? Doesn’t he know he’s etched in your heart forever? No man’s ever plowed this deep within the minefield of your heart, bringing to light parts of you that you feared would be a bother. Time and time again, he’s made you understand that you were never a bother to him, that he truly loves you, why else would he entertain your silly dissections at the ass crack of dawn?

 “I still see your ghost”

Now this is the part at which you had rattled, thinking no further to read more of the darned note, instead choosing to grab your keys and run to Pledis this very second, Hybe’s tight security be damned. The past few weeks were not easy on your boyfriend. A crazed fan had started a fabricated lie about Joshua and his ‘alleged’ girlfriend, and in no time he was under the scrutiny of the public eye. Protest trucks were sent to Hybe, stalkers greeted him at every corner during the late-night walks he took to cool off from the craziness he had to encounter in the day, the press was merciless and his fans betrayed his trust with malicious posts. You watch as the man you love becomes a shell of himself, doubting his every move, not even able to withstand making a silly joke or sparing some couple-times. You were every bit the understanding girlfriend

To top it all off with the scandal, he had lost his childhood best friend too. A tragic death that could have been avoided. Joshua blamed himself and his aloofness for his best friend's untimely decease even though you had reassured him that was not the case. Odd hours during the night he’d wake up crying, consoled only by you.He needed intimate proximity and tight hugs, you could get by that. When the outside world was tumultuous and the mind offered no peace to his turmoil, you’d crawl under his sweatshirt, greedily hogging up his body heat, comforting him, your head over his heart- another soul to listen to the racing beats reverberating the ones in his crazed mind. “I still see him and feel him, you know? It’s like he never left. His ghost follows me around wherever I go.” He’d confessed one night after waking up in a cold sweat jerking you violently awake. No amount of soothing words could dulcify him that night. You’d listened to him sob the night away gasping for deep breaths, curled up around your stomach.

 But that was a month back. You had forced him to go for grief counseling and slowly he was opening up, and getting better. The mirth in his eyes was slowly returning and you had hope that your boyfriend was feeling more of himself.

Except for today. You had caught onto a piece of paper that had flown out when you were whisking through his pant pockets while doing laundry. Words that had frozen you in place before kickstarting your flight response. Which is why you were here, pulled up in front of his dorms after a quick call with Jeonghan, owing to which you didn’t have to show up to Hybe. Without any words you barged into his room, thanking Hannie silently for the foresight to clear out the dorms letting you have your moment with Joshie. You are a little surprised to see him snoring on his bed as if he hadn’t just caused you a cardiac arrest. Unsure how to express your feelings—let alone with love instead of violence—you leap onto the bed and land on his stomach, knocking the breath right out of him. “Umph-” His eyes have widened into huge boba balls staring into your brown orbs as if you were a lunatic. Which, in hindsight you were. You did attack a sleeping person but you can explain yourself okay? With punches probably. “Y/N can you please- What is happe- Why am I- Is this a-” His words were slurred, sleep still hanging onto his droopy eyes but all the more befuddled at your crazy actions. Slowly you see his brain catching up to him trying to thwart your steady influx of punches.

“What the hell is going on” “I’ll tell you what the hell is going on Joshua Hong. It’s you and my poor heart. What am I going to do when you leave me to take care of my shattered heart. Didn’t you promise me forever? And now you choose to leave me? “When did I-?” “You think this is funny. Writing a suicide note and shocking-” “Suicide note?”

“Don’t try to act like you didn’t, making me look like a fool here.-” “Literally what the fu-” ‘You said to be ready for an engagement ring soon, we mapped the stars and painted out our children-” “Y/N love, would you please calm down?” His hand was placed over your palm effectively shutting you up and forcing you to stop yourself mid-rant. But your eyes worked just fine and so you sent out beams of anger waves at him “Alright let’s go one by one."

“What note?”

You thrust the creased-up tidbit to his awaiting hands, indignance written all over your face. You gaze inquisitively at your boyfriend of five years poring over his handwriting, reading whatever the hell he had written. Way too quick for you to catch up, you see his wrinkled brow straightening, only to furrow and deepen as he escaped into a cacophony of laughter. Was he laughing? At your misery? After what he had just done? Does he think this is a joke?

“Hong Joshua you better have an explanation for this or help me go-” “Baby, these are song lyrics” WHAT?? “Seriously, do these words not ring a bell to you?”

Snatching back the paper from his hand you read over the words one more time except this time from some part of your brain, music played and you held your breath as the lyrics of ‘Some Nights’ by Fun began to play in your head.

Well, some nights, I wish that this all would end

'Cause I could use some friends for a change

And some nights, I'm scared you'll forget me again

Some nights, I always win (I always win)

But I still wake up, I still see your ghost

Oh Lord, I'm still not sure what I stand for, oh-ohYou peer back up at your boyfriend who was trying his hardest to hide his grin. But he wasn’t the stronger soldier today because very quickly he began to guffaw, head thrown back- an arm around his chest clutching his pecs. You hate this cocky bastard.

“Aww baby, were you worried about me? “ “Asshole”

“Come on now, why are you lying? You came into this man cave you had sworn to never step foot into just because you were worried about me. Oh my God wait till Hannie finds out about this.” “Please don’t tell him. He’s never gonna stop teasing me.” You grumbled.

“Wow please? Means you are that mortified.” You say nothing. He is true. Once Jeonghan finds out the whole reason you had bribed him and the rest of the band with free dinner to hold an intervention was over a song lyric, you are never going to hear the end of it. “No baby, don’t look embarrassed. It’s cute that you care about me. I am truly touched. Come, we have some time to ourselves, what do you propose we do?” “Movie Night?” you ask softly. ‘Is that all you want?” “I am okay with anything as long as it’s with you.” You supply back to him.

“Aww I worried you quite a lot huh? You are never this nice.”

“You seem to be unsatisfied with the movie night proposition. Do you have any plans in mind?”

“Oh wow, she remembers her manners. Thank you for asking, baby. I was thinking, let’s do our skin care. I got some sample masks. And while our eyes are closed, let’s, I don’t know, listen to some music by Fun- Ahh I was kidding please stop attacking me. l take that back.”

Too late for that. He’s dying in your hands tonight.

-*-*-*-*-*-finished-*-*-*-*-*

A.N: Don’t kill me. Don’t kill me. Don’t kill me. Don’t kill me. Don’t kill me. Based on an irl story. Hehehe.

Comment below/ Send an ask to be added to the taglist.

@skzbangchanniee @ariananotgrandeee

Also, please listen to 'Some Nights' by Fun! Aju nice song it is 🫢!

[xxx-wounded-angel-xxx]

Love blooms in bookstores - part one

Hi 🌻anon ! Here's the first part of your request, I'll try to get part 2 out as soon as i get out of my writer's block.

Felix Volturi x reader

Wordcount : 1188 words

No one had wanted that small bookshop your grandma left behind, but you. “Old books are boring”, said your uncles. “Moving in another country is not interesting and too much trouble”, said your parents. “This shop is too much work”, said your cousins. They all wanted to sell it, even if it meant giving up the apartment above it. “But no”, you said, “I will take it.” And so you did. You wanted to be a librarian at first, but this was a wonderful opportunity, to inherit the bookstore your grandma loved so much. You also had fond memories of Volterra…

So, you signed the papers, put all your belongings in boxes, stopped talking to your family that was pissed at you for not selling the shop that would have brought them money, and you left for Italy. Your Italian was not perfect, but it was good enough and would get better with practice. You also received your grandma’s saving that were connected to the inheritance of the bookshop, and learnt the same way that some patrons of Volterra allowed you a fund for taking care of that historical building, an important shop for the community. Once the paperwork was complete and everything was in order, you finally moved to Volterra. It was almost a religious moment, the one when you finally unlocked the door to the bookshop. It wasn’t as big as you remembered, you weren’t so little anymore, but it was still as magical as you remembered it. It was hard for you to fathom that you would never see your grandma behind the counter again, but at least you got to make her legacy keep on living, like you knew she wanted. You explored the shop a little, but quickly moved to the living area upstairs, where you would live from now on, you had to settle down. The house had been empty for a good few months now, and you had to clean up a lot of things. You brought all your things in, leaving in boxes most of your belongings for now, you would have to get rid of some of your grandma’s things first.

It took you a whole week and half to choose what to keep and what to get rid of, donating and selling what you wouldn’t have the use for. Once that was done, you organized your own belonging, and you were finally settled in. It was now time to take care of the bookshop. You started to look in the book of counts, and it didn’t seem too bad. There was even a regular, a certain Demetri Aster that would regularly buy a lot of books for a good amount of money, keeping the bookshop afloat practically by himself. You hoped that this client would not mind the change of owner, and remain a regular client. Sadly, you quickly discovered that very few things were done by computer, you would have to change that, like the way to keep track of the stock for example. It would be much easier for you in the end. You decided to start to familiarize yourself with the bookshop by doing the full inventory, which was the most logical way in your eyes, and also a good way to get to touch every book.

That was on your second day of inventory that you met him. Despite the bookshop not being open yet, you had kept the door open, to keep some air flowing in to prevent you from dying from that many dust. A smooth and masculine voice had resonated through the shop as you were inventorying your third bookshelf of the day, asking if you were finally open again. You turned to the intruder, discovering a well-dressed man, maybe in his late mid-twenties looking at you. He was that typical well-dressed man you were expecting to see, except that he was very handsome, and you could swear he had an accent, even if you couldn’t pin it yet. “I am sorry, but I have not reopened yet. I am merely at the beginning of the inventory.”, you told him nicely. “I need to know precisely what I have and what I need before reopening grandma’s bookshop.”

At these words, the man apologized. “Oh, I am sorry to disturb you then. I was quite the good client for your grandmother, and I was hoping the bookshop would reopen soon… My name is Demetri by the way, and I want to say that I am truly sorry for your loss, your grandmother was a wonderful woman.” You nodded and felt bad that you looked so under-dressed compared to your usual self and covered in dust, while meeting for the first time who you hoped would be your best client. “I intend to reopen as soon as I can, and I am hopeful that I will be able to by the end of the month.” That brought a smile on Demetri’s face, he seemed to have missed a lot to have shopped in this particular bookshop. “That would be absolutely delightful!” Since he seemed to have the time, you allowed him to stay in the shop with you, chatting. You were curious about Volterra, life around and Demetri seemed to know a lot about the town and its surrounding. It was nice to chat with Demetri, and the rainy afternoon seemed to go by much faster in his company, until Demetri bid you goodbye, promising you to come back as soon as the shop was open again, and gave you his phone number in case you needed him.

Like you thought, it took you three weeks to finish the inventory, clean the shelves and organize the books, but also get a program to digitalize most of the things. You distribute flyers around the town to announce the reopening and change of owner, and text Demetri about the set date which delight him. He also promises to come with his brother, which pique your interest. When the day of the reopening finally arrive, you put on one of your best outfits, but can’t help but be a little worried at how bad the weather is, it is not really inviting… For the first hour, no one shows up. And when rain starts pouring, you thought it was a bad sign. But finally, you heard the door open, and a familiar voice greeting you.

“[Y/N]! It is nice to see the bookshop opened again!” “Demetri! It’s a pleasure to see you again.” You greet him, delighted to see your first customer. “I’ve ordered a selection of books on my own, so I let you have a look around…” That’s when you saw him. The man behind Demetri was a giant, so tall and muscular and handsome… Your eyes couldn’t let go of him as you took in his figure, his short dark hair, sharp jawline, kissable lips… He had his arms crossed in a casual way, the muscles flexing under his tight shirt, and you finally got the revelation why you were into bigger guys: you were waiting for him to show up in your life.

[adore-laur]

THE FIRST DAY HOME

— an addition to milestones (part of the dadrry universe) 🌅

——

A revitalizing gust of autumn air graced Harry's lungs when he nudged his hip against the handicap button near the hospital door. His hands were too occupied to manually push it open himself since one acted as a crutch of balance for you, and the other gripped the car seat that held his two-day-old daughter.

During the journey out, finally leaving behind drab hallways and stuffy rides in the elevator, Harry refilled his disposable coffee cup and drowsily glanced between the Keurig and his sleeping baby girl. He noticed she was no bigger than the burbling machine in front of him. Just shy of eighteen inches tall, she could have practically been mistaken for a doll with her pouted pink lips and silken eyelashes that melted the hearts of everyone who passed by. The nurses Harry had made friends with over the past couple of days fawned over her, and it had taken a good ten minutes to leave the waiting room because of all the attention.

She belonged at home, though, which is why he politely excused himself and ushered you and his baby out of the hospital like he was relocating valuable artwork. On second thought, the analogy didn't sound too far from reality.

Scanning the congested parking lot, Harry tried to remember where he parked the damn car; those three cups of black coffee he had downed in the last hour weren't working in his favor. He shivered and tucked you closer into his warmth. It was November, so a chill hung in the crisp morning air and required sweatshirts. His daughter had a crocheted blanket from the nursery resting over her body and a pink beanie snug on her head. The temperature change didn't seem to bother her, nor did the movement when he eventually steered the two of you in the direction of the car.

He unlocked the doors while mentally reviewing the safety procedures for securing a fragile baby into a big, scary vehicle. So many things could go wrong, but he brushed aside those troubling thoughts and carefully installed the car seat to face the rear.

"You got everything?" you asked faintly, lingering behind him like a gentle spirit guide.

Harry turned his head and took in your physical state of weariness. "Yeah, love. Did you want to do it? Sorry, I got ahead of myself." Your detached gaze looked right through him as you shook your head.

"No, I'm too tired and sore," you whispered, sniffling a little. He sincerely hoped it was from the weather and not from forthcoming emotions.

Lovingly cradling your head, he said, "I hear you, honey. How about you go sit down and rest for a bit? I'm in dad mode right now. You need to be in sleep mode."

You slumped your forehead against his chest, an adorable way of nonverbally saying thank you, then retreated to the other side of the car to get in the back. Harry reached over to buckle your seatbelt before continuing his task.

After pushing his unwashed hair out of his eyes, he clicked the car seat into position and tightened the straps securing his daughter just to be safe. Her blanket was tucked behind her neck, and he inhaled the skin there, her addictive baby smell easing his cluttered mind almost instantly. With a featherlight kiss to her cheek, he softly shut the door and slid into the driver's seat with aching joints and a foreign feeling coursing through his veins. He adjusted the rear-view mirror to better see both of you and grinned when he saw you dozing off already. He couldn't help himself when he reached back to loosely grab your fingers and plant a kiss on your wedding ring.

"What's wrong?" you slurred, weakly squeezing his thumb. The way you stared at him, so very tired yet so very beautiful, reminded him of memories gone by.

"Nothing," Harry said with a choked laugh. Why was he tearing up? When had that happened? "You… you're a mom. We're parents. It hit me just now."

He always knew you were never meant to be a stranger in his life.

"Well, Mom needs Dad to start driving so I can sleep in my own bed again—and on my stomach." You smiled lazily. "Oh, I can't wait for that."

With that, he reversed out of the parking space and headed home. It was a tranquil drive along the coast, soft breathing and sips of coffee being the only sounds until he eventually pulled into the driveway, the slowest he'd ever done.

The next few minutes were a blur. Harry unpacked the trunk stuffed with supply bags he had brought to the hospital, which were full of necessary and unnecessary items. Once inside the comfort of the house, he watched you immediately sprawl out onto the couch and drown in the comforter that had been left there from your five-in-the-morning contractions.

Harry filled a glass of ice water for you and set it on the coffee table before kneeling, his knees cracking due to minimum use in the last forty-eight hours. "I'm going to show her around the house," he murmured, playing with your hair.

"You sound like a real estate agent."

He hummed a dry laugh. "Am I delirious, or has motherhood made your jokes worse?"

You kicked your foot out to hit him; however, you accidentally nailed him right in his groin region. Harry grunted and pinched his eyes shut, suffering through the momentary pain. Your gasp quickly turned into a giggle, and he tickled your neck as revenge.

"I'd like to have more kids with you, thanks," he said, standing with a groan and subtly adjusting himself. "Call me if you need anything, yeah? And drink some water, please."

He stepped away and lifted his daughter from the car seat, his heart expanding at the way her body remained scrunched. He then wrapped her blanket around himself, the material stretching enough to cover her.

He should show her the nursery first, where he would spend a lot of bonding time in the upcoming weeks, or even the kitchen, where she'd be his enthralled audience member as he cooked meals. Instead, he slid off his shoes and opened the patio door before slowly trekking down the wooden stairs leading to the house's private beach area. The California sunrise was a boundless blend of blues and oranges, and the water along the horizon sparkled.

"What do you think?" he asked the sleeping bundle in his arms. With bare feet, he found a place on the sand where the waves barely reached his toes. The sound of them crashing on the shore solidified the feeling of home in his chest. "Pretty breathtaking, huh?"

He would never get sick of the view since it was the backdrop of his most treasured moments with you. Drinking coffee together and watching the sunrise as birds chirped their morning songs. Spending golden hour evenings kissing in the ocean while lust flourished like a summer zinnia. Moonlit nights sitting by a campfire, prattling on about the future while tipsy on wine.

Everything circled back to you, like he was in a whirlpool of your sheer, shimmering existence.

"Your mom," Harry mused, "she's amazing, isn't she? Sometimes, I wonder how she does it. How she makes everything look so effortless." He bent his knees and laid his daughter on his thighs, as if speaking to her directly would ingrain the sentiment into her head. "I want you to know she will give you the world, okay? She's going to make you feel so loved, and I'll do my absolute best to match her affection, but know that you won't meet anyone who loves more selflessly than her."

The breeze agreed as it picked up and swirled around him. Glancing down, he studied the creation in his arms. Her features were the perfect fusion of him and you, with the shape of her eyes matching yours and the shape of her lips matching his.

"I hope you look more like her than me when you get older," he said, drawing shapes in the sand with his fingers. "But the selfish side of me hopes you have my smile. Don't tell her that, though. Let's wait until she sees it, because then she'll never be able to say no to you. I figured out that secret ages ago."

He couldn't wait until her personality started to shine through. Would she try to get her way by being clingy like he does? Or would she give him puppy-dog eyes like you do? If it was a mixture of both, he would have a troublemaker on his hands.

"Anyway," Harry said with an exhale, "I brought you out here because this beach is where we'll spend lots of time together. Dad has special memories here. My favorite is when I proposed to your mother. After she said yes, we ran into the ocean without knowing where life would take us." His eyes became glossy, a film of tears threatening to escape his waterline. "I'm so glad it brought us you. I'm so, so glad."

As morning eased its way into full effect, he looked back at the house where years of love resided. Why not add some more?

——

[hjparisian]

always yours-harry j potter x reader

p: harry j potter x fem! reader w: TW !!! toxic relationship, abuse, fluff ending, cussing, not proof read summary: harry and (y/n) come across each other a bit after the war and reconnect. a/n: another request from a lovely follower! so sorry this is so late. i haven't had motivation to write and couldn't figure out what to even write. if any of you guys are in an abusive relationship, please try to reach out to someone! i know it's better said than done but you all deserve the best.

The light breeze felt perfect to (Y/N). It was her day off of work from the Ministry today, so (Y/N) decided to use this day for herself to relax. Merlin knows that her work and her boyfriend has her feeling drained.

(Y/N) had just exited Flourish and Blotts, nose in one of the new books she bought. Her focus was disrupted when she bumped into a large figure, making her drop her book.

"Oh my goodness, I'm so sorry, I should've been looking where I was going," (Y/N) said to the person as she went to pick up her book but someone else grabbed it first.

"Oh it's alright, no worries," a familiar voice said to her.

(Y/N) looked up to the person handing her her book back.

"Wait, H-Harry?"

"(Y/N)?"

The girl was in shock. In front of her was her old friend and former crush, Harry Potter. The last time they've seen each other was at the Battle of Hogwarts. Though she had returned to Hogwarts for her eighth year, Harry did not.

"What are you doing here?" (Y/N) asked the man.

"I was just grabbing some stuff for school."

"School?"

"Yeah," Harry said. "I'm teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts at Hogwarts."

"That's amazing Harry!" (Y/N) said to him. "I mean you were the best at the class. Plus you were such an amazing teacher when you taught Dumbledore's Army so it doesn't surprise me."

"Thanks, (Y/N). And what are you doing?"

"Oh, I just came from Flourish and Blotts. It's my day off from the Ministry and I was looking for new books."

"Well," Harry says. "What else do you have planned for today?"

"Honestly, nothing else."

"Do you want to come over to my place?" Harry asked her. "I mean, you don't have to if you don't want to. I was just hoping we could catch up maybe?"

"I would love to," (Y/N) said without a second thought.

Harry and (Y/N) exited the Leaky Cauldron and apparated to Harry's place. It was an apartment not too far from London. Harry unlocked the door and let (Y/N) enter.

It was a rather simple but clean apartment. There were a couple photos on the walls from Harry's years at Hogwarts. One that caught (Y/N)'s eye was a picture of Dumbledore's Army during their fifth year. Harry was in the middle of the photo and (Y/N) somehow had a spot right next to Harry.

"Bring back memories, huh?" Harry said as he stood behind her.

"Yeah. I still remember the first meeting." (Y/N) said. "I wanted to punch Zacharias in the face."

Harry laughed at your comment. "Me too, but he did come around."

Harry guided (Y/N) to the couch in his living room.

"Did you want anything to drink?" Harry asked her. "I got water, butterbeer, firewhiskey."

"Some butterbeer please."

Harry left to the kitchen and returned with two bottles of butter beer, handing one to (Y/N).

"So, how are Hermione and Ron?"

"They're good. They got engaged recently."

"Really?" (Y/N) said in awe. "That's wonderful! I remember talking with Hermione about Ron back in sixth year. Finally got her to admit her feelings for him."

Harry nodded his head, grinning at the memories. "They were both too stubborn to realize it."

(Y/N) nodded before taking a sip of the butterbeer. "What about you Harry? You were with Ginny last I heard."

"I was but not anymore." (Y/N) had a shocked look on her face. "We broke up a while back."

"Really? And Ron hasn't killed you?" (Y/N) asked.

Harry chuckled a bit. "It was actually Ginny who ended it. It was mutual so no bad blood between us."

"That's good then."

A question had been burning on the back of Harry's mind. Thankfully, they were on the topic of it.

"What about you? Are you with anyone?"

(Y/N) set down the bottle she was holding before she answered. "I am actually."

Harry felt his heart drop a bit. "Who is it?"

(Y/N) started messing with the hem of her top, feeling a bit nervous. "Do you remember Cormac McLaggen? He tried out for keeper our sixth year."

For some reason, Harry felt his heart crumble a bit. That bloke Cormac is with (Y/N)? Those two couldn't be anymore different. How could that troll earn her love?

"Harry?"

(Y/N)'s voice snapped him out of his thoughts.

"Are you alright Harry? You were zoning out a bit," (Y/N) pointed out.

"Oh, yeah I'm fine. I remember him, bit of a jerk from what I remember in sixth year." Harry said. "Is Cormac good to you?"

(Y/N) avoided eye contact and kept messing with her shirt. "Oh yeah. I mean we have a few arguments here and there, but he means well. Do you mind bringing another bottle of butterbeer please?"

Harry nodded before getting up to the kitchen again. He didn't necessarily believe (Y/N), but he wasn't going to prod on their relationship.

The two had been enjoying reconnecting. Harry told (Y/N) stories from his first year teaching at Hogwarts, one including how a third year girl sent him a singing card on Valentine's Day. (Y/N) also told Harry about her job at the Ministry and how her coworker spilt coffee on Kingsley Shacklebolt's robes.

(Y/N) looked at the clock on the nearby wall to see that it was a quarter past twelve am. She couldn't believe that she's been talking to Harry for this long. She had to get home.

"Hey Harry, I have to get going," (Y/N) told the man sitting next to her.

Harry looked at the clock to also see how late it was. "Oh, sorry. I didn't realize the time."

"It's quite alright Harry, I had a wonderful time with you anyways."

"Will you be apparating home?" Harry asks her. "Don't want you to head home by yourself if you aren't."

"Yes, I am. You don't need to worry," she said to him. "Besides, I know a few spells thanks to a certain Gryffindor."

Harry smiled a bit, knowing she was referring to him.

"I'll see you later Harry," (Y/N) said while handing him a paper.

The girl disapperated, returning to her home.

Harry unfolded the paper, which revealed some numbers. It was (Y/N)'s phone number. Right under it, she left a small message.

Call me! :)

The next morning, (Y/N) woke up to hearing noises coming from the kitchen. She put on a sweater and walked out to find her boyfriend Cormac cooking.

"Good morning," he said to her.

"Morning," she said.

"Thought I'd make us breakfast before you go to work," said Cormac. "Also where were you last night? You got home pretty late."

"I was catching up with an old friend."

Cormac hummed before asking her the dreaded question. "Who?"

"Oh it's no one special," she nervously said.

Cormac raised an eyebrow at her before asking again. "Who were you with, (Y/N)?"

(Y/N) cleared her throat before speaking. "Harry."

"Potter?"

"Yeah him."

(Y/N) looked at her boyfriend, seeing a look of resentment in his eyes.

"I never really liked that bloke." Cormac said while handing (Y/N) her plate. "Gave the keeper spot to Weasley just because that's his best friend."

(Y/N) just nodded, not wanting to say anything to make Cormac upset.

The two ate until (Y/N) had to go to work. While heading to work, (Y/N) felt her phone buzz. She saw it was a number she didn't recognize, but the back of her mind was hoping it was a certain boy.

(Y/N) took chance and answered it. "Hello?"

"Hello?" A familiar voice said. "Is this (Y/N)?"

(Y/N) laughed a bit before responding. "Yes it is."

"Oh good. It's Harry."

"I know," (Y/N) said, smiling. "I recognized your voice."

"Ah yeah," Harry said. "How are you?"

"Good. Just heading to work."

"Oh I'm sorry, I didn't realize. I can call later."

(Y/N) felt herself smiling more.

"No it's alright! I have time. Besides, it makes the travel to work less lonely."

And so began a new routine of Harry calling her on her way to work. Which then went into them calling each other after work. On nights Cormac was away, Harry and (Y/N) would call each other.

Harry and (Y/N) began seeing each other more in person too. He'd join her on trips to Diagon Alley for more books or to grab a bite after a long day of work.

This change did not go by unnoticed by Cormac, though. He noticed how distracted she became, how she smiled at her phone more, how she left for work earlier and came back later, how she'd go out more.

The boy had enough.

One day, when (Y/N) had returned from work late, Cormac was sitting in her living room, waiting for her arrival.

"Oh! Didn't know you were here Cormac, I thought you wouldn't get home 'til later," the girl said upon noticing her boyfriend on her couch.

"Where were you?" The boy asked her.

Cormac had gotten up and walked towards her, glaring at her.

(Y/N) had begun to feel a bit nervous, knowing Cormac wouldn't like the reason she had returned late.

"I-I was at work," (Y/N) stammered out.

"What about after work?" Cormac questioned her. "Where did you go?"

"Just went to grab a bite."

Cormac began pestering her. "With who? You had to have been with someone if you've taken this long."

(Y/N) felt herself starting to shake. She had never enjoyed when Cormac began to act like this, knowing he was getting angry and a bit emotional.

"I was just out with a friend," she meekly said.

"I wanna know who you were with (Y/N)."

"It was just a friend, Cormac."

"Don't bullshit me. Was it with Potter?"

(Y/N)'s hesitation was all Cormac needed to get his answer.

"It was with Potter, wasn't it."

(Y/N) couldn't lie to him, knowing he figured her out. She nodded.

"Yes, but he's just a friend."

Cormac laughed at her. "Oh really, (Y/N)? Doesn't look like it to me. All those days you came home late, were on the phone for hours. Probably all with fucking Potter. Wouldn't be surprised if you went and shagged him."

--TW description of physical abuse--

"Cormac, I didn't shag him! We were just reconnecting, that's all. Please let's just tal-"

A loud smack echoed through the room.

Cormac had hit her.

"Shut up you bitch!"

Tears welled up in (Y/N)'s face. Cormac took noticed of this and began laughing at her.

"You're crying?" The boy shoved her against the wall. "What if I give you something to actually cry about?"

"Cormac, stop!" (Y/N) sobbed.

He let go of her and let her drop to the ground. (Y/N) had begun sobbing loudly, hyperventilating.

"Get out (Y/N)! Go to your fucking boyfriend Potter for all I care." Cormac screamed at her.

--TW end--

(Y/N) had pushed herself up and got out the door before Cormac slammed it behind her. She decided to use her strength to apparate to the only person that could help her.

She knocked on the door and waited a second before it opened to reveal her former schoolmate.

Harry stared at her before bringing her inside and embracing her. She flinched, but began melting into his embrace after telling herself that it's just Harry.

"I just need to know," Harry began. "Did Cormac do this to you?"

(Y/N) just nodded, not wanting to speak.

Harry felt himself become angry. How could Cormac do this to her? She was an angel, unlike that asshole. He never deserved her. But did Harry himself deserved (Y/N)? He couldn't protect her, keep her safe. This could've been avoided if Harry was with (Y/N).

He couldn't think about that now when (Y/N) was in his arms needing care. He brought the girl to his bathroom, doing his best to try and tend the bruises that littered her skin. Harry drew a bath and brought a change of clothes for (Y/N).

"I'll be right outside, I promise." He told her. "I'll have to finish checking your bruises when your done."

Once (Y/N) decided to get out of the bath half an hour later, Harry made sure he didn't miss any other injuries before bringing her to his bed. He was just going to let her rest until a hand grabs his.

"Don't leave. Please."

Harry would always listen to (Y/N).

The boy stayed with her until sleep finally took over. As much as Harry wanted to stay with her, he had business to take care of.

Thankfully, he remembered where (Y/N) lived after dropping her off multiple times so he apparated in the night to her door. He banged on the door hard until it opened, revealing his new worst enemy.

"What do you want Potter? (Y/N) isn't here."

"Oh I know." Harry told Cormac. "Just came for a chat."

Harry stepped forward in an attempt to enter the house until Cormac stopped him.

"I'm busy right now."

"Well I guess I can try to make this quick," Harry said.

A punch was thrown at the older wizard, catching him off guard. Harry grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and pushed them into the apartment, shoving him up against the nearest wall.

"I know what you did to (Y/N), McLaggen. How dare you hurt her!" Harry screamed at him.

"I didn't do such thing." Another punch was thrown.

"Don't you dare lie to me! I know you did it. You hurt her! You never deserved her."

"Oh but you think you do?" Cormac scoffed at Harry, while trying to push him off.

"I would've treated her way better than you ever have."

"You want a slut like her? You're pathetic Potter."

Those words had enraged Harry more than ever. The two continued fighting, Harry having the upper hand. One more punch landed on Cormac before he fell to the floor.

"You better stay away from (Y/N). If I hear that you stepped one foot near her I won't hesitate to punch you again," Harry spat at him before making his leave back to his home.

Harry headed for his room, wanting to make sure that the girl he loves was still there. Fortunately, she was, but she was awake.

"Where did you go Harry? I was getting worried."

"I just went to take care of something," he said, trying to reassure her.

"What do you need to take care of at this time?" (Y/N) said while walking toward him.

A small gasp slipped her month before her hand made contact with his cheek. Harry would be lying if he said it didn't feel nice.

"You're hurt Harry!" (Y/N) exclaimed before dragging him to his bathroom.

"(Y/N) love, I'm fine." He kind of wasn't. Harry looked at his reflection in the mirror and saw the marks Cormac apparently left him. He was too focused on getting vengeance for (Y/N) that he ignored it.

(Y/N) began cleaning his face. "Harry, you have dried blood on your face. I don't think that's considered fine. What were you doing?"

"If I tell you, you have to promise you won't be upset," Harry said to her.

"What?" (Y/N) paused, confused.

"Just promise me."

"Fine. I promise I won't get upset."

"Alright, well," Harry began. The adrenaline was gone and he began feeling nervous. "I went to visit Cormac at your guys apartment."

"You went to see Cormac?" (Y/N) squeaked. "Why would you do that Harry?"

"I couldn't stand what he did to you (Y/N). He hurt you. You didn't deserve what he did. I had to teach him a lesson."

"So you went to beat each other up?"

"Well, him more so than me," Harry joked.

"Why? Why would you beat him up for me?"

"Because (Y/N). I love you."

(Y/N)'s eyes widen in shock. "W-what?"

"I love you. And I think I always have. Seeing you brought back those feelings I've had back when we were at Hogwarts. I would do anything to protect you (Y/N)."

"Oh Harry," tears welled up in (Y/N)'s eyes.

Harry noticed and got a little bit worried. "It's alright if you don't feel the same way. I know you just had to deal with Cormac so-"

Arms wrapped around him and lips met his. Harry froze for a second before melting into it, gently placing his hands on her waist.

(Y/N) was the first to break the kiss, to respond to Harry's declaration of love to her.

"I love you too, Harry."

(Y/N) finished cleaning up Harry before heading back to his bed. His arms wrapped around her, keeping her warm and safe.

"I promise to protect you no matter what," Harry said to her. "I would do anything for you."

"And I will do the same for you, because you're mine."

"And I will always be yours."

[starillusion13]

Hi congrats on 500 i would like to request for ateez ot8xfreader

IS THIS THE END?

Pairing: Ateez! ot8 x fem! reader

Genre: Lore Au, Angst, Mystery

Warnings: crying, mention of death, fever dream, many flashbacks, loneliness (major warning is this is mixture of sad and happy fic, idk why am feeling so down in this spooky season.)

W.C: 5.3k

Note: please I want to thanks to people for reading and reblogging. Reviews are always appreciated 😭. Applause to the ones who come up to me to interact and they know how friendly I am. Okay enough!

Network: @cultofdionysusnet @k-vanity

dear Anon! ( I'm sorry if you wanted something spicy or fluff but i instead of these two, wrote something very different. i hope you may like it. Please let me know.)

Standing in front of this place seems different now, no more those chaos, those laughs echoing through the huge space, those smiley faces running around the street and getting shelter inside the huge place. Street is just now a silent and abandoned place without those lively beings occupying the area. Your fingers touch the cheeks to feel the wet sensation only to realize that you are crying, Crying for what? You don’t have hope for anything to return to its origin, right? Nothing can turn back. You are lost, they are lost and everything is lost. This place is lost without you all. Are you still going to keep a hope within yourself for, for them. Why? Everything is clear to you. You have seen those faces, those words, that scene still haunting you every day, every second and every moment and even now. Your heart aches on those thoughts but never you are caring to soothe it. It’s only because you don’t know how. How can you say to yourself that everything is alright when nothing is in its place, not even your mind and your heart.

Please.

Please what? Is there someone to listen to your pleadings, to listen to your heartbreaking cries every night and to see your helpless state? No. No one is going to pull you into their arms and rub your back with whispers, ‘Shush….its okay…I’m here. Nothing can hurt you. I’m here.’

I am here. Nothing can hurt you.

You are still here but everything is hurting as you are here alone. You are not with them. Them? Is it just them? Are you really going to refer them like this? They are your ‘home’. A safe place. The warehouse in front of your eyes is the only home to you and to them.

Taking few steps closer to the big metal door, binding with chains and locks, your hands fish inside the pocket for the keys. Hastily, you unlock the different locks and pull the chains and throw them to the side, not caring if they are okay to use afterwards. Your mind is just focused on one thing and that is to enter the place. Gripping the big handles in your hold, tears flowing continuously and so you close your eyes. You are ready to push the door but a memory flash across your mind.

▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️

“Welcome to the Wanteez.”

Chuckling, you asked the person, “Wanteez? Why such a name? like, are you wanted?”

Standing in front of an old abandoned building with rusted gate, with some graffiti sprayed across the door and the walls all around, one name is quite repeated ‘WANTEEZ’ and also there are some other things repeated like their names and ‘Heart Awakened Live Alive’ and ‘Hala-zia’. Them and their names, both are weird.

“Yeah something like that. You know why as hear clearly, the loud beats of the music is coming from inside and guess you know, people don’t like citizens like us causing disturbance in the society.”

“So? You guys are enjoying yourselves and why does it matter to those others, they can simply ignore it. It’s not like anyone lives around this place. The nearest house is much far away from here to reach this sound. Unless, you are playing the speakers in front of their house. I would do this if anybody had complained anything about me.”

He laughs loudly along with you on your comment, “There’s more to this, you know. People assume us that we are some sort of gangsters and we are doing illegal stuffs behind everyone’s back. The government and police are always attentive to this surrounding to find any little proof against us to claim us as the criminals.”

“Are you?”

“Huh?” His face turns into a frown and his confused eyes staring back at you.

“The way this place looks like, I must believe you guys have some illegal shits up your sleeves.”

Before he could reply you back, you both feel someone’s hand around your necks.

“What are you both doing here? So, you finally brought our girl to this place.”

You smile to this intruder between you both but you are really happy to see him so energetic like always.

“Yes, Woo. Joong finally brought me here after so much whining and ta da I’m standing in front of the building.”

Wooyoung is the one who is always hyped up with silly matters and trying to lift up everyone’s mood in every situation. The way he takes care of everyone and other’s need is very adorable. Being one of the youngest member, he is referred as the menace also because of his mischievous acts but he is the first one to jump in for you if you are in trouble. The most clingy one and your favorite one in this family. But hush, don’t let him know about this as he would be going to shove this on everyone’s face.

Hongjoong removes his friend’s hand from around his neck and walks towards the gate and before he could pull it open. Wooyoung gives you a mischievous smile and holds your hand and makes a run towards the gate.

“Let’s go….”

“Woo...I will fall. Slow down.”

With other hand, he pushes open the door and left Hongjoong cursing at him

“I swear Wooyoung….”

▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️

You push open the door.

Darkness reflects back to you but the full moon day spreading its light inside, slowly clearing your vision and those memories of coming here and spending time fills your mind. Your eyes are blinded not with the darkness of the room but those happy days replaying in front of you.

▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️

As soon as you step inside the warehouse, your hand still in his hold, you come to a halt and take heavy breaths. With calming yourself and fixing your posture, you look towards the centre of the warehouse, where six other boys staring back at you, some confused and some with soft look on their face. With a quick smile towards them, your eyes follow the interior of the place, some small high widows lining the upper end of the walls on your sides and also huge ventilators, old and somewhat rusted rods attached to the pillars for arranging their stuffs. Many of their items spread across the floor, food packets, clothes, shoes all scattered near a corner, basket ball and different kinds of flyers. You pick up a flyer near your feet and eyes scan the photo and description, some men in black outfits of coat and masked and fedora hat with chains decorated on them. ‘wanted’ written at the top of each flyer.

Those flyers still scattered around you. Tears blurring your vision, legs feeling weak, hands shaking by your side. With shaky steps, you walk towards the sofa, covered with a layer of dust and memories. Taking a seat, your hands caress the material.

“Who are they?”

You look at them with curious eyes but none of them answer you, only Hongjoong snatches away the paper from you and throws it aside. Furrowed eyebrows and pouty lips staring at him, he just gives away a dry smile.

“Nothing, its just something which is not your concern or…any of us.”

Your attention moves towards the speaker where the song has been changed to a different melody. It’s a very soothing one from the previous one and you can see Yunho memorising his steps while looking at the mirror. Seonghwa and San by his side and Wooyoung grinning beside them.

“Well, I don’t care about these mysterious men but I care of these three not acknowledging my presence. I feel so neglected and hurt.”

You make a fake crying expression to which Wooyoung stick out his tongue and Seonghwa flick his head and comes near you and now you are grinning to the scene.

“I cant ignore my girl ever.” His warm palms over your cheeks, soothing your every nerve from the exhaustion since the morning. He has that magic of warmness and healing in himself for which you always run to him for warmth like the heat in winter afternoon.

“I don’t believe you. Also, why is this place so dirty?”

He lets out a groan on your question to which everyone laughs and you jokingly glare at them.

“I have to clean this place all alone and everytime these idiots have to destroy it afterwards.”

You keep a neutral expression for few seconds and one two three you burst into laughter. And now everyone has abandoned their previous individual works and attention focused on you. Only you.

Maybe they are friends since childhood and you are a new addition to the group but you are the most precious part in their life. They have their own individual stories and some of them has shared a little part of their life with you and some just gives you tight smile whenever you want to know about them, like Hongjoong, the leader of this group. He has built this whole friendship circle and the last one to meet you. You don’t know much about him but still you trust him, have faith on him that whatever he does or is going to do in near future is nothing wrong. It means no harm to anyone but you fear for him. He keeping his life and feelings aside, always caring about his friends and you.

Will he be safe?

The second person you don’t know much about is the person standing in front of you, Seonghwa. He has a very strict family and always, he needs to follow their rules and regulation on everything as if every second of his life is already scheduled and he cant have his own way and this is the place where he met hongjoong and now this hideout is the escape place for him. This cold abandoned place has the warmness only because of him. He also gave you a bracelet which has a sensor and signal technology attached to it, of course made by yeosang so that they can know if you are in any danger or not. The way a bracelet braces your wrist like a protectiveness. He is always there like a protective barrier to you.

“I thought you will take my side but you are literally laughing like them.”

“I’m sorry Seonghwa but you looked so funny while complaining. Its not like I’m a tidy person myself so….”

You walk towards Wooyoung and snatch the packet of snacks from him, ignoring his whines. Munching on some, satisfied with the spicy chilli-peppered flavour, you again go near the eldest one.

His confused eyes keenly following your every move and his eyes go wide when you a bundle of papers which are kept in a place altogether on the table in front of the sofa.

“What the hell….”

Wooyoung skipping steps towards you, messily throw some other stuffs towards Seonghwa and others joined in the fun too. That’s how the chaos filled with some running after others, scolding, whining and laughs echoed throughout the place.

Whatever their individual life was, one thing was common among them. It’s you. Their precious treasure in life. You were their everything. You were meant to keep safe by them as you were their only hope in life.

To be their light.

▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️

Your gaze falls on the diary still kept in the place where it used to be on the table. You don’t know exactly to whom this actually belongs to but you know, this is most important thing to them. Maybe was. They are no more here to keep this diary. You put the diary in your backpack when you notice a drone placed in a corner and you know that’s broken.

▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️

“What are you doing Yeosang?”

He is still connecting the wires and testing his remote, not aware of your presence behind him. You place your hand on his shoulder for him to get startled and the drone on which he was working fell from his hand.

“Oh…I’m so sorry…I didn’t mean to scare you…”

“Y/N. Its you. I thought….Leave it. What are you doing here today?”

“Wooyoung has a dance battle later this evening and he asked me to go there to watch his performance. So, your eyes are blessed with my beauty.”

He chuckles. Taking the drone in his hands, he gets up to put it on a shelf nearby. He is the quietest one in this group and the reason is very clear. Somehow, like Seonghwa his life is also controlling one but in a different way. He belongs to a royal family from the city, Sector 1. He has an image to be maintained and also his father doesn’t like him to be friends with others who don’t belong to any royal blood. He is the first one you met. You first met him while you were returning home from school and he was standing in the middle of the road looking up at the sky, maybe questioning about himself. About his life. That’s how you become friends when you two met often at that street and that’s how he introduced you to Seonghwa at one convenience store. Yeosang is very talented in every stuff but outstanding when it comes to technology. You know his secret feelings about everything as he only shares such things with you. And you are always there to listen to him. You are his little blue bird to keep the secrets safe. A bird of hope.

“lets go.”

“where?”

“Come on. Don’t you wanna see how well Yunho choreographed Some steps for Wooyoung?”

You gladly accept his hand and go to the other room where both of them were practicing to a song, you heard it before from them ‘To the beat’.

Both of them are very passionate when it comes to dancing. You love to see the rage behind their eyes to make every step to a perfect level and until they are satisfied, they are repeating the steps again and again.

“Yunho, why don’t you go to the dance battles as well?”

The music is already paused by the other to get some water and so your words are well audible to the tallest one. You could see a sad expression flick to his eyes but quickly he sends a wide smile towards you. This does not ease your worry for him. He doesn’t share much with you but he is the most comfortable person to spend time with. He is the one to give you hug after a long day, to give you the feelings of having an older brother. Brother? Is that he to you? You don’t know what they are to you. But they are everything you need. He is a perfect brother for his friends in this place and a perfect man for every girl out there. And for you?

You feel hands engulfing you in a bear hug. You smile widely, snuggling to the chest, knowing who this is.

“How are you tiny?”

“Ugh! I’m not tiny. Joong is tiny. Call him that, not to me. I’m very tall, atleast than majority of the girls in my neighbourhood.”

“Whatever makes you stand tall.”

“My legs keep me stand tall. You are just too tall Yunho. A walking giraffe.”

“Excuse me.”

“You cant be excused. Woo….lets run away before this giant bury me here.”

Grabbing his wrist, you run outside. Don’t know where. But atleast every place is like heaven when one of them is with you.

▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️

A thud sound makes you startled and then you noticed how a black cat has entered the place. You didn’t notice before but the gate is open and maybe the cat has entered through it as there is no other possible entrance. ‘But I’m sure, I had closed the gate when I entered here’. The black cat sniffing a cabinet and you thought of some food or something is kept there but still out of curiosity, you made your way towards the cat.

The cat is not frightened with your presence near it but as if it is signalling you to open the drawer. With shaky hands, you pull the handle.

An hourglass? No wait. It’s that ‘cromer’.

▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️

“Don’t touch it.”

“Hm?”

“Capt…I mean Hongjoong doesn’t let anyone to touch it.”

“Why? What is this?”

“its cromer. it’s a very important part of our life, especially to him. Come on, lets go to the park.”

“Jongho. Are you all not hiding something from me, right?”

Silence. Your anticipation for an answer grows with each second of his mouth shut and slow breathing.

“…no..”

“hmmm…so you are.”

“what do you mean?”

“Well, I know I’m not close to you all for a long time like you guys are from your childhood but in these five years, I have come to know a lot about you all and also not. Whenever, one of you spend time with me, shares a lot of things with me. I start to think, I have known you completely. I know you all. But the next second I don’t , as if you all are ones with hidden life. What are you all hiding from me?”

“y/N…its nothing like you think.”

“It is everything that I think and like you know. Its nothing the way you all are trying to show me things. If you want me to stay away from this, I will. Stay away from you- “

“never. We wont let you stay away from us.”

“I cant. I cant stay away from you all. You guys are like pirates in my life. The eight boys with individual mysterious pasts and united through friendship and on a heist to conquer the treasure. But, I don’t know what I am. An intruder in the pirate ship, maybe?”

“Our light. Our precious treasure.”

Their light.

Jongho, the youngest of the group. You met him when he was thrashing things around the basketball ground because his dreams of being an athletic came to an end after his accident where he hurt his leg and hand. You still don’t know the cause of it but you know both jongho and yunho feel uncomfortable with the topic and so you keep quiet with this. Jongho is the not the one to show affection in front of everyone but he is really a caring person when you are alone with him. He is a very passionate guy with his personal things, majorly his singing. His soothing honey like voice and gummy smile is everything you need to keep your nightmares away. He is a great listener like yeosang and so the most of the time when you are feeling low, you can find these two beside you.

▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️

There is no one to light up your darkness now. You are all alone here. In this cold abandoned building, sitting in front of the table in middle of the warehouse.

▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️

Palms pressed over your eyes, a presence behind your back, pushing you towards your front.

“Mingi…you know I can’t see when you are literally closing my eyes. Slow down. I can’t match your steps here where different things bumping my shoe.”

“I told you, yeosang to keep your gadgets somewhere else then why are they scattered here?”

You could hear Mingi scolding Yeosang but you know Seonghwa is already picking up the things from the ground.

“So? You could have done then, why still waited for me to clean the mess? I am very much busy.”

Your hands come up to remove his hands from your eyes when you come to a pause but he holds it tighter.

“Not now.”

Licking your lips, you pull your lower lip between your teeth and contemplating as what need to be unfold here. What are they upto? Its not your birthday today then-

“Congratulations on being with us for five years.”

Your eyes squint several times to adjust with the view. Hongjoong standing with a cake in his hand, smiling widely at you with Seonghwa glaring at Wooyoung and trying to smile at you because the other one is trying to blow away the candles. Yeosang by your side gives you a smile and congratulates you with San behind him, giving you his eye smile.

“Y/N. You better blow the candles before him or I have to smack him and light it up again.”

“Don’t worry, San. I’m sure he doesn’t want his name to be removed from the dance club.”

“But you don’t know that Yeosang is there to help that menace so better be prepared.”

Yunho comes to your other side with jongho trailing behind and both of them are smiling wide at you but something is there that Yunho is sad about because he is the worst one when it comes to hide his feelings. Its not right time to ask him but maybe later.

“Tiny. San is right. Never trust these two’s intentions. They are bestfriends and they can do anything for each other.”

“Aren’t you all?”

Yunho asks in surprise, “What?”

“Best friends? Aren’t you all best friends with each other?”

“No tiny. We are more than that. We are like brothers, Hongjoong accepted me in this group as if…as if…he is my own elder brother. But soon after others treated me the same. We are a family.”

“So, you all are to me. My family. Also, you all need to stop calling me tiny. I’m not Tiny.”

“Of course, you are.”

All of them laugh at you and meanwhile Jongho pats your head with shaking his head to ignore them. He signals you to blow the candles and when you are about to blow it, you pause. Their worried and confused looks earn a chuckle out of you.

“Whose plan is this for our 5 years?”

They all stare at you. Wait not you. Someone behind you. Mingi.

You quickly turn around, causing his hands to fall from your shoulders. Small eyes and wide smile staring down at you.

“What happened?”

“Thank you.”

He turns you around and hands resting on your shoulder like before and now, you smile towards everyone.

He whispers in your ears, “Welcome.”

“Also, I like the name ‘our girl’ because you all are my ‘my boys’. No wait. ‘My Pirates’.”

Their smiles drop for a mere moment but quickly nod their heads and you blow away the candles.

What are they to you? It’s obvious that they are your family. The only people who actually cared for you like a family. They are like brothers with each other but with you. With you? Did you fall in love with them? Love? You haven’t thought like this with them but you are sure one person is always making it obvious. Even if you feel a little bit something more with them. You are sure its not the same from the other end.

San. He has almost confessed his feelings several times but you just waved it off with changing the topic or just giving him a smile. You being their light was first referred by him. His life is very unstable unlike others. He had to change schools several times and this time, he made himself clear that he has to permanently settle down at one place. Due to changing places often, he does not have any one permanent in his life like you before meeting them. That is why, you are so close with him. The nights you both spend together with your head resting on his shoulder and talking about your life. The comfortable silence between you both and whispers which are only for between you two.

San is a comfort place. They all are. In their own way. The way mountains stand high to protect the nature and its beauty, he is the one shielding all of you and can even sacrifice himself to save you all. To save the friendship and the bonding of the family.

To protect his light.

Their light.

Their treasure.

 You.

The member who is just the opposite to San is Mingi. He is a mysterious person. Its true that they all have some hidden past but his present is also hidden. When San is very physical and verbal with everything, Mingi is quiet and staying all by himself. When you first met him, he was still in school and he got in many fights and Jongho and San were there to bring back him from the scene. He is the one who still thinks himself as the extra member in the family even after so many years. You don’t want him to be left out in any way so you always keep his update whenever you are with them. He always keeps his earplugs on and closing his eyes, staying in a corner of the warehouse. But secretly, he is the most emotional one.

Maybe they have individual mysterious past and some uneven presents which are not clear to you. You don’t know exactly what they do for the living but one thing is common. The future with you all together. The uncalled blurry future which is peeking like a moonlight yet you are not fazed with it. The way they keep you safe from this world. You need to keep them safe from whatever lingering danger roaming around for them.

But, can you?

▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️

“Mr. kang Mr. kang please tell me. Tell me. What’s going on here? Where are they?”

“Go away. Just go away. You don’t have to know about this. I’m sure you don’t want to end up in a similar way like them.”

“what? What happened to them?”

“Nothing you need to know.”

“I have to. I need to know. Let me enter the building. Leave my hand. I need to see them.”

You are screaming and the people crowding the place are looking in between the warehouse entrance and to the side where Mr. kang is holding your arm, preventing you from entering the building. You could see many police cars and ambulance all around. Government forces are also guarding and preventing from anyone trespassing the area which they have already closed with barricades and no entry tapes.

Your screams are echoing the place even silencing the thunderstorm and heavy rain at the moment. Everything is blur to your eyes. Your tears and raindrops mixing together same as the way your hope to meet them mixing with the worry of what happened to them. Everything is crashing to the ground with each rain drop. But one thing is still in your mind, to see them.

A government officer comes near you and Mr. Kang, and your hope to know about the scene rises.

“Hello, Mr.kang.”

“please, what happened? Let me enter. Please.”

The officer looks at you for a moment before Mr. kang speak up, “Ignore her. I will take care of this. So, that’s the end, right?”

“No one is alive. Each on of them is deceased. Also…your son was there too. One among the deceased ones.”

“I know.”

You look towards them with horror in your eyes, “Who?”

“Kang Yeosang.”

Yeosang.

One of the deceased. Them. They are deceased.

You sat on the muddy ground with bawling your eyes out and crying louder. If it were some other times then one or the others would come running to you to engulf you in a tight hug and never let you go until you had come down. But now again. Its you all alone. You don’t have a family now. But atleast you have wonderful memories with a family.

▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️

You are again crying and hiccupping like that day again now, sitting on the sofa with the cromer and your backpack. You don’t know what to do with these stuffs but you are going to take all their stuffs with yourself before someone else gets their hand on them.

The cat is still roaming around the place. You put the cromer on the table where moonlight is coming directly from the big ventilators and starts to put everything possible in your bag. Its late at night already and your eyes feeling droopy with tiredness and crying. So, placing the bag aside, you lie down on the sofa to rest yourself.

.

.

.

.

“She is lonely without us. I can’t see her like this.”

The girl’s head resting on the thighs of the tallest man among them. His hands combing her hairs and caressing the scalp in between. Her legs placed over the other’s thigh, one with broad shoulders and his hands drawing soothing circles over her sides to lull her to sleep.

The other peeking down at her with his best friend from behind the sofa and tears glistening their eyes. Another tall man sitting on a chair nearby the sofa, staring at the tired body sleeping soundly in his friends’ hold.

“She is still wearing my bracelet.” Said the one who is examining her hand and the bracelet.

“She even put my drone in her bag.” The eldest who is still holding the bracelet in his hold looks at the person behind the sofa on hearing his words.

The person beside him nods his head with similar sad smile, “She even pass through the dance club with the hope that she would still see me waiting for her.”

“Everything is still in the same place. Thanks to that dad of mine to lock the place and not letting anyone to enter here but I know he is just going to sell this place to the government and she is doing her best to protect this place with her all might.” Yeosang says while wiping the tears and turning away from them.

The leader kneels in front of his face and removes the loose strands of hairs and tugging them behind before caressing her cheeks with a soft smile on his face but tears threating to fall from his eyes.

“I should not have included her in my life when I knew that one day, I need to leave her here all alone. I should not have showed her the hope of us together forever.” He pauses before continuing, “I thought I could have achieved both- the victory and her but I lost both.”

“But you said We can get back with her and that’s possible?”

“I don’t know, Mingi. I don’t know anything anymore.”

“Is it possible?”

Everyone looks towards the youngest on his sudden question as he was being all quiet and him asking the leader caught everyone’s attention.

“What?”

“Is it possible to start again?”

Hongjoong turns back to the girl sleeping peacefully while the eldest caressing her hand. The leader’s thumb ghosts over the dried tears over her cheeks and dry lips with exhaustion reflecting from her whole self.

“I don’t know what to do but everything is possible till she is being our light and our precious treasure which we need to protect. Our only hope to start a new beginning from the horizon.”

Honjoong leans forward to peck her lips.

▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️

Your eyes shot open and you sit up. You are sweating and bring your fingers to your lips, you feel as if the dream was real. They were here. No. how can they be? You touch your forehead and then to your neck, you are having fever. Its just a dream because of your exhaustion. It was a fever dream.

‘Everything is possible till she is being our light.’

‘Their precious treasure.’

Your eyes stare at the cromer. You need to know about them all over again but in details. You need to find their past and what happened to them that day.

‘Our only hope to start a new beginning from the horizon.’

The diary.

You rummage through the items to get the diary and quickly pull it out.

The title written on it: ‘From the witness.’

Flips open the diary, the first page reflects the word, ‘The Black Pirates’.

The words written scribbled below are Passion Young Fever.

“Is this the end?”

.

.

.

“Or is it the beginning of the end?”

.

.

.

The fever dream was real?

Or actually, you never met them?

Or maybe, It’s just the part of the witness you read in this diary and all these times you spend yourself imagining in her place.

Was it her dream?

Or yours?

……..

[ Now listen here! When writing this down, i literally plotted a whole series but somehow i uploaded this one-shot on the request. maybe I would write a series on this in future. Should I make it a series?]

Perma Taglist: @mymoodwriting @justhere4kpop @vvshere @anyamaris @yeoobin @icchyi @jwnghyuns @piratequeen-queenofgames @dinonuguaegi @oreharuuu @eriny123 @sanwifesstuff @kiwiisnthereoops @kiwiraccoon [open!]

[randomfoggytiger]

The Scully Family In-Depth (Part XXIII): Loss, Second Chances, and In Absentia

We begin the countdown to the end of the Scully Family series!

Today, we tackle a broad array of subjects: complicated familial dynamics, well-intentioned meddling, and conflicted yearnings.

A VERY MERRY MISCOMMUNICATION

The episode opens on Bill and Tara’s Christmas display-- specifically, Tara herself: great with child and jubilation. When her husband unlocks the front door, she rushes over to greet her guests, beaming under Maggie’s effusive, “Look at you!” and Dana’s “You’re huge.”

“Sorry about the digs, Mom, I know you hoped you’d never have to spend another night in base housing,” Bill pipes up, displaying a natural conscientiousness. 

“Are you kidding? This is wonderful.” 

It’s Scully who is taken aback by the obvious: “It’s the exact same layout as our old house.”  

Her brother nods, half amused, “Well, that’s the Navy for you.” 

“Bill tells me, Mom that you’re going to be staying in your old room; and the nursery’s going to be in--” Tara briefly pauses, looking back at her husband for confirmation, “--Dana and Melissa’s room.” 

He and Tara quite obviously believe the house will delight their guests; and are just as obviously delighted with it themselves. It seems their move here is rather recent (or recent enough that Maggie hasn’t flown out to throw a housewarming party, yet) and kept as secretive as possible from their family. 

This points to a few things:

Bill seems exultant to live once again on familiar turf-- a doppelganger childhood home-- and to grow his own child up in that replica. 

Tara is overjoyed to take part in that dream with him, and build their life in a copy of the happy memories of his childhood. Meaning, the stories he must have told about his growing up years were tender and fun and nostalgic; and she wanted their child to have a similar happy experience. 

Both Bill and Tara are proud of their cookie-cutter house; but are more proud that they not only kept it as a surprise but are able to shock Maggie and Scully with it. This points to a generosity of spirit: that, although celebrating their first Christmas together as parents, they still took the time to plan around their extended family.

Yet, amidst their happiness, Bill stops to recognize that his mom isn’t a fan of base housing; and Tara to assure her mother-in-law that she has the rights to her own room and familiar comforts. 

As rampageously happy as the two are to share this experience with Maggie and Scully, they miss a few saddened moments: Dana uncomfortably smiling over sleeping in the room she used to share with her dead sister, and Maggie lagging behind to process her losses in this replica Christmas house. 

Scully, however, notices that her mom is hanging back; and she stops her ascent upstairs to check in: “Mom? You okay?”

“Oh, yeah”, Maggie brushes aside, turning from the tree. “Just thinking about your Dad. And Melissa,” she adds as she sweeps by and up the stairs. It would seem both Scully women have the same determination as their hosts: contribute to an impeccable family holiday. While husband and wife think that’s fitting up rooms to reignite nostalgia, mother and daughter think that's setting aside their unease at these reminders-- i.e. getting over themselves-- so Christmas won't be spoiled.

Scully is stopped from following the family up the stairs by a phone call: an unmarked woman’s voice-- Melissa’s. 

“Dana.”

“Yes, I’m sorry, who is this?”

“Dana. She needs your help.”  

It’s not here (as I first assumed) that Scully panics, running up the stairs and insisting she heard her late sister’s voice and insisting Bill drive her to a random location. But panic is present as she dials up San Diego’s FBI extension and insists they trace the call; and bewildered panic is there as she arrives at the scene, Bill chauffeuring her in his car.

It’s a tiny but important detail about their relationship: Scully hasn’t shared with her brother why she needs to visit a stranger's address, doesn’t even tell him why when they arrive at a crime scene. But he supportively drives her over and patiently wait outside while she loiters in, begs for information, and sifts through the details the local force gives her. 

After she retreats (after she sees Emily Sim-- which will be discussed in a future post), she rejoins him outside; and Bill quietly asks, “Dana, what’s going on? They’re joking that you got a call from a dead woman.” 

This is interesting: either the police are loose-lipped chatters near unauthorized crime scene gawkers or Bill is rife with intelligent, circumspect behavior: 

Bill Scully knew exactly what to say to pry details from the investigation team; or

Bill Scully quietly and nonchalantly listened in on the other cops’ conversations, enough to know that his sister was talking with the detective about a phone call from beyond the grave. 

While not particularly earth-shattering, it’s a cool little insight into his character. 

At his gentle prodding-- and Bill is gentle, bending down and speaking softly (so different from but not dissimilar to Mulder’s methods)-- Scully opens up: “I thought it was a dead woman-- just not the one in there. I know it’s not possible, Bill, but it sounded just like her. Our sister.”

Bill’s freezes, unable to process this information. 

“Melissa,” Scully further clarifies. 

We’re not shown Bill's reaction-- or Scully’s reaction to his reaction-- instead swinging immediately over to the dinner scene. But that in itself is incredibly telling: both siblings are forced to address Melissa’s absence… and both siblings put it behind them as quickly as possible. Even more telling is the fact that Bill treats his sister with nothing but compassion this episode and the next, despite the direct ties between her work and their sister's death. It speaks to a largeness of character: despite being a bully (he was as a child, he was to Mulder, he can be-- though he tries to temper it-- with his sister), he never held Melissa’s death against his youngest sister. He is just and he is fair... in this judgment, least.

Their father and Bill and Scully (and possibly Charlie) all served their country; and with that service came duty and responsibility and danger. Melissa was a casualty to that service, just as their father’s crew members and many other innocent civilians were (or might have been) casualties in war. Bill himself could become a casualty to a future conflict or could fail to prevent other innocent lives from becoming casualties themselves. The fact that Bill understands and does not hold Scully responsible for Melissa’s death-- despite what his little sister could believe herself-- is an incredibly mature, nuanced take that I’m glad replaced the horrendous, stilted, one-sided perspective Memento Mori almost made canon (post here.) 

At dinner, Bill and Tara and Maggie are quietly conversing amongst themselves-- lightly catching up on neighbor or family gossip, I presume-- while Scully sits withdrawn and anxious. Before she gets up to leave, we get a glimpse of Bill and Tara’s comfortable interactions: he passes the food her way, without thought, and waits for her to grab her portion patiently. It takes no effort from him to be considerate to people he likes, which we can chalk up to his mother’s training growing up (e.g. post here.) 

Scully, visibly uncomfortable, leaves the Hallmark moment to call up her wayward partner (who jumps into frame in a Scrooge sleeping cap); but, despite a desperate need for reassurance or help or comfort, she hangs up the phone without speaking and returns to the table. This, here, proves that-- while Scully has made progress-- opening up to others is still a challenge for her. 

Which is desperately sad in hindsight: A Christmas Carol and Emily force Scully past her own barriers-- to admit her infertility to Maggie, to fight against her mother’s staunch insistence that Emily is not Melissa’s child, to attempt to defuse Bill’s suppositions, to beg for custody of her daughter, to accept her need for Mulder on this case. And to unfortunately feel that it was all for nothing: Emily dies; and Scully resurrects distance between herself, Mulder, and her family once again. 

She returns to the table, still ill at ease; and another dynamic from the cancer arc resurfaces: Bill notices that something’s wrong-- “Everything okay?”-- first, which then draws Maggie’s attention to her daughter. Again, this points to a keen observational ability on Bill’s part (which I’ve discussed here, and in his Personality Typing post here): he is able, almost without effort, to see through his sister’s disguises; but is, unfortunately, not able to translate his observations fluidly-- unlike Mulder. 

An interesting thought: if this be the case, it's easy to see why he hates Mulder so completely. He intuits that Mulder can see through Scully, as well (after observing him sitting by Scully’s bedside, kissing her hand, and advocating for his own form of treatment), but remains convinced that Mulder uses this to his advantage-- in effect, tricking her loyalty and pressing her pain points to keep her close to the work; and, selfishly, close to him. But, again, Bill can’t read people completely correctly: he senses the right emotion but miscalculates its underlying reasons. Because of this, he can sense his sister’s true feelings (“You think you can cure yourself”/”Is everything alright?”) and Mulder’s true feelings (“Was it worth it?”) and his mother’s true feelings (“You know what this is doing to Mom?”), but doesn’t temper those feelings with nuanced, mature perspective-- namely, he doesn’t try on other people’s shoes.This comes back to bite him: as much as he wants to help-- and he does-- Bill can only blunder around inelegantly while stepping-- ironically-- on pain point after pain point. 

Tara accidentally interrupts her husband’s quiet prodding with a loud exclamation: the baby kicked. Scully, alert (and slightly panicked) realizes it’s a false alarm; and is then trapped in a situation where everyone but herself is embracing the moment. Maggie, Tara, and Bill are all smiles as one parent chatters about her excitement and the other reaches his hand over naturally to feel his child move. 

“You had boys and girls-- so which one kicked more?” Tara asks; and Maggie responds fondly, “Oh, I had some pretty tough little girls”, while turning to catch Scully’s eye: an echo of her “You were always the strong one” in Memento Mori (post here.) 

Scully doesn’t respond, looking quietly from her mother back to her sister-in-law, eyebrows scrunching in pain as Tara cheerily rambles on about motherhood: “You know what? I can’t believe I’m about to say this-- as big and fat as I am now, I can’t wait to have more. This is our baby, our son. It kinda gives everything new meaning.”

At this, Maggie looks over to share the moment with Scully… and notices her daughter’s fallen face. Her son was onto something, after all. 

Speaking of Bill, at his wife’s closing statement-- “I can’t help but think life before now was… less. Just a prelude”-- he looks pleased as punch: a sentiment he obviously shares with her. Bill, the big, traditional family man; and Tara, the big, traditional family woman-- they’re suited to each other; and deliriously happy. However, he’s too shy or self-conscious to say it out loud, smiling at his wife before catching most of that smile back when Maggie happily locks eyes. It could be because he perceives an outward expression of tender emotion to be contrary to his masculinity-- an effect he and Scully took from their father-- or because he just feels giggly and googly-eyed and vulnerable over this new emotion. Either way, he clamps down on it as best he can… which isn’t a lot.

Afterwards, Maggie joins Scully in the kitchen, both of them pitching in to clean the dishes-- an exact mirror, three years later, of the last Christmas the two shared with Captain Scully. (As an aside: Scully washing dishes with her manicured, professional suit sleeves is so… Scully that it almost made me chuckle.)  

“What’s the matter?” her mother prods, refusing to let the issue go despite her daughter’s “Nothing.” Hand on her hip, she stares Dana down while the other woman turns aside, purposefully avoiding eye contact and sighing. 

Scully tries to shake the interrogation away with a half-truth, plopping a plate down roughly and turning defensively to get the matter over with: “Mom, I’m very happy for Bill and Tara.”

“You don’t seem to be.” 

The truth of that statement cracks through her defenses; and, after a momentary pause (where she looks to the side, up, and down-- like all the Scullys do when facing intense emotion), she gives up, sighing, “Oh, Mom.” Pausing for another long spell to pull her feelings together, she confesses, “Several months ago, I learned as a result of my abduction-- of what they did to me-- that I cannot conceive a child.”

Maggie is shocked and grieved; and immediately scoops her daughter up in a hug, knowing she needs it. Scully, like in Memento Mori, stands still: trying to cast off her own emotions by becoming the bearer up of others’ pain. 

“I’m so sorry,” her mother consoles. 

“It’s okay,” she rejoins-- voice vulnerable, cracked, young: so like the voice of Season 1 Scully that we know she is cut to the quick over this news. Her eyes begin to water and her face begins to crumble: and this is interesting because it shows she has still clung to the emotional growth of Redux II, not (yet) sliding back into complete, stone-walled distance. “I just never realized,” she continues, a vulnerability from her deathbed woven through her words, “how much I wanted it until I couldn’t have it.” 

This is the second time Scully's allowed herself to be completely open with her family (the first being Redux II.) And as hurtful and frightening as this vulnerability might be, Maggie is rewarding that openness with comfort and support; which, in turn, helps Scully open up that much more later on. 

The scene transitions to the nursery where Scully is sleeping-- the famed replica of her and her sister’s childhood bedroom-- surrounded by infantile toys and furniture. It’s here that her dreams begin to be plagued with memories and premonitions, nightmares of her (as yet unknown) child.

In her first dream, little Scully bursts in through the door with Bill in hot pursuit. He is in full bullying mode, threatening to turn the wild rabbit she rescued into stew-- and while he is obviously over-exaggerating to get a rise out of his gullible baby sister, it sets her ablaze in righteous fury: “No, you’re not!” she yells, pushing him backwards. Still, when he retreats, Scully doubts her abilities, yelling, “You’re not going to find him. …Bill!” as if she can call her brother back and reason with him. 

It’s not news that Bill was a bully and they had a sometimes turbulent relationship: in Gethsemane, she fondly recalled one of their arguments to a (presumable) family member before his arrival, regaling (with glee) how she either maneuvered or pushed him down the stairs. Still, these squabbles didn't break or deeply affect their relationship: she hung out with him and Charlie during her tomboy days, and the two brothers chipped in one year to surprise her with a bb gun (posts here and here.) What I find interesting is that Bill could see through her even then; and that, while Scully tried to put up a brave front, he never seemed to buy it.

But that brings up another valuable point: Scully believes she’s gotten away with a false front (post here); but in reality? No one-- not her mother, not her father, not her sister, not her brother, not her partner, not even her boss-- is fooled by her pretenses. Scully herself believes she’s being incognito when she’s painfully transparent; and that aspect-- her inability to lie believably-- is coded deeply into her character (and was one of the reasons Gillian Anderson was frustrated that Chris Carter hadn’t told her Scully was in on Mulder’s Redux I collusion.)

(Also, as another side note: I know they couldn’t direct the little girl to mimic Gillian’s faces, but the casting crew were incredible: they picked one who made an identical expression naturally. Look at that face! It’s Scully’s when faced with horror, anxiety, or fear.)  

Little Scully sneaks down to the basement where she pulls out a large, tin storage container; and, unfortunately, finds a very dead rabbit inside. After staring silently in horror, she looks back at the stairs and sees Emily. The dream, then, does something interesting: the camera shoots back to young Scully to show her unnaturally blank face, leaving us to conclude this moment has bled in with current Scully’s processing unconscious: 

Scully recalls the moment when she accidentally killed an animal; yet later, she also purposefully kills a snake (after disobeying her father’s orders.) After each incident, she is horrified, but it’s not until she makes an active decision to take a life that the weight of her guilt comes crashing down. While terrified after finding the dead rabbit-- and feeling the horror of it years later-- the cost of her actions hadn’t sunk in. This means she was too young, at the time, to fully understand or grapple with what she’d done; and it’s only now, in hindsight, that the weight of this moment is oozing inward. 

Despite the dead rabbit and the dead snake, Scully joined medical school to study dead bodies. Knowing Scully’s mentality, how much of that was penance or morbid curiosity before it became her preferred calling? Death itself seems to spook, not intrigue her (post here); and finding answers to its causes soothes her worries and gives her peace. So, if that be the case, a fear of death-- or her actions contributing to a death-- would, perhaps, lead her to seek out a way to control it: interpreting, understanding, and translating Death in terms that are concrete and immutable. Hence, her career choice.  

Emily appears on the stairs in her floral onesie, blankly looking down on young Dana while clutching the railing. Scully, then, is tying her neglect of this case-- of boxing away this little stranger as an unfixable tragedy-- in with the preventable death of her rabbit. Which is even sadder, in hindsight, because her own unconscious was whispering that this child was doomed to a terrible end; and her guilty, self-conscious reflex was stating that it would be her fault.

She wakes up at this moment to a second phone call: Melissa again; and this points to four other conclusions: 

Emily Sim and Melissa are inextricably linked: either Melissa’s second phone call-- which Scully would have heard, though she hadn’t woken up yet-- was what triggered her dream appearance, or her appearance in Scully’s dreams triggered Melissa’s phone call. 

It makes sense why Scully ties a connection between her late sister and this little girl, and ends up believing her to be Melissa’s daughter. 

The truth, however, is a touch more complicated: Melissa Scully functions as the voice of Scully’s conscience-- more accurately, as its advocate, helping her sister to tune into and listen to it clearly. We see this exemplified by their dynamic in One Breath (post here) and The Blessing Way (posts here and here); and that hasn't stopped with her death. 

Melissa is advocating for Emily because she is a byproduct of Scully, not because Emily is a byproduct of herself. She is protecting her niece because she has always protected her sister. 

Scully wakes and answers her cell phone, overwhelmed when her sister's voice echoes over the line a second time.

“She needs your help,” Melissa repeats. 

“Who is this? Why are you doing this?”

“Go to her.”

So Scully does, at nearly three in the morning; and is, again, turned away by Mr. Sim. She doesn’t let the matter drop this time, booking it to the local police station and stirring Det. Kresge up to reopen the autopsy investigation. There she finds a picture of Emily that is identical to one of young Melissa… which brings up another set of observations. 

The child on the staircase in her memories was likely Melissa-- her shadow since childhood. 

The dream, however, changed it to Emily, either creating connections supernaturally or strengthening the ones she’d made unconsciously after catching a glimpse of the little girl in the Sim house. 

Bill has family photo albums in his house. The one Scully opens looks like an original, not a copy, with her mother's handwriting printed neatly inside. Perhaps these photos were mostly of his own childhood-- around the world, in Japan, and (presumably) before Scully was born-- and perhaps he was given this for safekeeping sometime after Paper Clip. With Melissa dead and Bill and Tara building a home of their own, Maggie probably thought they’d want this album for themselves. Scully, perhaps, probably even made copies for her mother and herself before it was shipped off, since she knew exactly where to look to find that particular picture of her late sister. 

I also have a personal theory: Bill Scully later reveals he has a photograph of Melissa that was taken during the months his little sister was abducted. He never shared this with Scully-- perhaps because he assumed it would dredge up bad memories (another indication of his gentler personality: not wanting to hurt her with reminders. And, of course, another indication of his meddling protectiveness.) But the fact that Missy had given it to him, had possibly let him take it while she was off-the-grid traveling up and down the West Coast, speaks volumes to Bill’s motivations. He has deep wounds regarding Melissa, too; and guards her memory fiercely, albeit silently. Her loss is harder for him to talk about than his own father-- he was even originally written to resent his youngest sister for “causing” Melissa’s death (though that scene was rightfully deleted and his character reworked, thank goodness.) 

After Scully finds out Emily Christine Sim was adopted, she calls up Mulder’s FBI contact (Danny, the basement gnome)-- not Mulder himself-- and asks him to send Melissa Scully's PCR results to San Diego, where she is: effectively keeping her partner out of the loop. Despite their history, Scully is alienating herself and her struggles again: perhaps because, deep down, she is afraid of what Mulder will puzzle together with her abduction, a dead sister, and this adopted girl. 

Without intending to, she falls asleep once more and is caught up in another nightmare: herself as a child, holding her father’s hand, while walking down the aisle to pay their respects to an open casket. As she approaches, the casket leaks water and blood; and after peering over the side, the body of Mrs. Sim is revealed-- and opens its eyes. Stumbling back, she realizes the hand she is holding is not her father’s: it’s Mr. Sim’s. But as he opens his mouth, Bill’s voice speaks instead: “Dana?”

Scully is roused violently from sleep, and comes face-to-face with her brother’s worried, bemused expression. 

Again, she dreams of death. 

Again, she dreams of death connected to Emily. 

Again, she dreams she must helplessly watch tragedy unfold. 

Up to a point, these dreams can be dismissed as her reality bleeding (heh) into fantasy-- the second phone call reminding her unconscious of Emily, Bill speaking through Mr. Sim-- but Scully doesn't give this line of reasoning a first or second thought. Why?

And just as her unconscious starts to turn over these complicated emotions, reflection is snatched away by outside interference. 

(As an aside, this episode proves that, if anything, Scully is a light sleeper; which also proves that Mulder is a quiet and sneaky dude, slipping in and out of her perimeters without setting off her sensory detectors.)

Bill watches her try to pull herself together, asking in feigned nonchalance, “This where you stayed the night?”

“Yeah,” she affirms, feigning nonchalance herself, “some of it.” Remembering her research, Scully quickly checks then closes her laptop, unwilling to share her suspicions with anyone just yet.  

“It’s supposed to be a vacation.” Bill is annoyed but trying to hide it-- and, while it isn’t his place to dictate how Scully spends her time, he does have a point (or half of one.) He sees Scully’s dedication to her work as dedication to her partner; and probably suspects that Mulder is putting her up to this. Yet, despite his abhorrence for the man or his methods, Bill never outright scolds Scully for her inattentiveness, and does try to have patience with her odd behaviors. Still, his annoyance is hard to extinguish; and he asks, “Whatcha working on that's so important?” to better understand why she’s ducking and dodging. 

Scully, once again, ducks his attempt. “Just, uh, unfinished business.”

Seeing that they’re at an impasse, he switches topics: “So, you up for joining us this morning?”

“Yeah, I’ve, I’ve,” she stumbles, working through a plan in her mind, “got a little work to do. Can I join you guys later?”

Bill scoffs, lightly, trying to maintain an upbeat rather than imposing attitude. “How are you gonna get around?”

“I’ll, I’ll rent a car.” 

He watches her go, good naturedly exclaiming, “Alright-- lunch!” When she doesn’t respond (and continues stepping away), he adds, “I’ll hold you to that!” She, again, doesn’t comment; and he lets her go, trying to shrug off their interaction with a glance at his newspaper. 

After a long day investigating shaky leads, she arrives back at Bill’s with the PCR results in hand. Right after discovering the similarities between her sister and Emily’s DNA-- reacting with shocked, bittersweet tenderness-- Maggie appears, catching her daughter in the thralls of discovery. 

“Dana? Are you alright?”

Immediately, Scully looks down, masking her demonstrative expression; and her mother sighs, changing the topic to other pressing matters.  

“It’s 2 o’clock in the morning-- where have you been all day?” Maggie scolds, shuffling forward in exasperation. “We were expecting you for lunch.” 

Now it’s Scully’s turn to sigh: this can’t be put off. “Mom. Sit down.”

Maggie complies, head in her hands: another round of bad news from Dana. 

“The woman who committed suicide--” she begins, letting us know that Scully and Bill had previously shared details of the case with Maggie and Tara, “has an adopted daughter. A three-year-old named Emily. I got a sample from Emily’s blood; and I had the lab run a test on her DNA. It’s called a PCR test. This,” she continues, handing the evidence over to her mother, “is Emily’s. And this… is Melissa’s, which we ran during her murder investigation.”

Scully’s face is tortured, her head bent-- an expression of utmost struggle and vulnerability (post here.) “They match.”

Shaking her head in disbelief, her mother asks, “What does it mean, ‘they match’?”

“It means… that this little girl Emily… is Melissa’s daughter.” 

Maggie looks up in disbelief. “It’s not possible.”

“You can’t deny that there’s a remarkable resemblance.” 

“Melissa was three-years-old when this picture was taken, she was practically a baby,” Maggie snaps, eyes flashing. “All kids can look the same at that age.” 

“Mom, it’s uncanny. Emily looks exactly like Melissa. That’s why I order the PCR test-- because her face may change, but her DNA can’t!”

“And that test is accurate?” Mrs. Scully presses, even angrier. 

“There is a 60% chance that Melissa is Emily’s mother. I’m gonna order a more comprehensive test-- an RFOP. It’ll take a couple of days, and then we’ll be sure.”

“Oh, I’m already sure--,” Maggie denies; and the root of her denial comes to the fore: “--your sister didn’t have a baby, she would have told me.”

“Mom. Remember about four years ago Melissa took off? She traveled up and down the West Coast-- we didn’t know where she was half the time.”

“You’re saying she was pregnant and she didn’t want us to know?”

“That was 1994. Emily was born that November. She could have given her up for adoption and none of us would have ever known.” 

Suddenly, Maggie is struck with another idea, softening under Scully’s insistence. “Dana, listen to me. I know what you’re going through.”

“Mom--” snaps Scully, hurt that her motives are being called into question. “This has nothing to do with what I’m going through.” But still, she does not offer further clarification-- does not tell her mother that she, too, is having premonitory dreams (post here.) Because, really, this is about what Scully is going through-- not solely her infertility, of course, but also her memories, remission, second chance at life, and (misplaced) guilt-- and she can’t wholly refute or deny her mother's claims.

When Maggie explains, “It has happened to me-- when your father died”, she loses ground on her conviction, doubting her instincts. It’s what Melissa warned her against in The Blessing Way-- “You’ve lost touch with your own intuition!”-- and what she tried to help her see and understand when Scully was doubting her choice to join the FBI. It’s what she finally learns, four years after her sister’s death, in all things (post here.) 

“It was a long time before he left me,” Maggie admits as her daughter struggles with confronted tears. This is a sore spot for both of them; but while Maggie has moved on-- “before he left me”-- Scully still struggles with echoes of the painful past. She cannot forget or let go as easily. “I saw him in my dreams. The phone would ring; and just for a moment, I was sure it was his voice. And, and you’re doing the same thing with Melissa-- you’re seeing her in this child. But that does not make this child my granddaughter.”

During this speech, Scully has been struggling with denial, doubt, tempted belief; and at her mother’s last words-- “We’re still connected to them, Dana, even after they’re gone”-- she tears up, conflicted. 

There are many, many points to consider in this conversation: 

Maggie’s nature is just as confrontational as Bill’s, but she’s raised her son to (mostly) butt out of business not belonging to him. 

Despite Melissa’s black sheep ways and hard-to-swallow beliefs, Maggie remains convinced her daughter would have told her if she’d been pregnant. And she's correct.

Maggie would have (per her own expressions of hurt at this possible exclusion) embraced a granddaughter out of wedlock. This falls in line with her first two children being conceived before marriage (if the show's wonky timeline is to be believed), her undogmatic support of Bill and Tara’s IVF pregnancy, and her excitement over the birth of her second grandson, William.

Scully reveals how closely knit she and Maggie were (and are): “Remember about four years ago Melissa took off? She traveled up and down the West Coast-- we didn’t know where she was half the time” couples the anxiety, worry, and frustration of Melissa’s disappearance in with her mother and herself. We've seen this closeness demonstrated in The Blessing Way’s deleted scene (post here) when Melissa's arrival ended the personal conversation between Maggie and her youngest daughter.

Scully is still struggling with trusting her own instincts, and will continue to do so until all things. And, as befits her pre-established pattern, she leaps into decisive change then begins to doubt and second guess her intuition and choices (post here.) 

Scully dreams, this time of a Christmas long past.

She and Melissa sneak down to the tree; and while she loudly exclaims, “Look at all the presents!”-- betraying her rapture over receiving gifts-- it’s her sister who shushes her (“Dana, be quiet; they’ll hear us.”) Grabbing a large box-- another peek at her gift goblin side-- she excitedly whispers, “This one’s for me!” Again, Melissa checks her: “You wish. That’s for Billy, you dope.” The girls continue rifling around-- Scully still amped over (supposedly) finding a Hotel California record, Missy still shushing her-- until they find their cross necklaces; and it’s then that Maggie appears from the shadows (“You don’t have to shake it, Dana. You can open those now”) and sits beside them.

While Scully is awed by her present, Melissa is ambivalent, politely thanking her mother but not really responding to Mrs. Scully’s speech: “Your grandmother gave me a cross just like that when I was about your age. It means God is with you, and will watch over you wherever you go.”

When she looks at her mother in thanks, younger Dana sees her current self in Maggie’s place. 

A few takeaways: 

Melissa is the ringleader, it appears, in this mischief making venture. While she is the older sister (and, therefore, has more bossing rights), she seems more aware of the danger of getting caught than Scully. 

Scully, in each of her flashbacks, seems to be a second mate to mischief makers: breaking their father’s shooting rules with her brothers and sneaking down the stairs on Christmas morning with her sister. She is already drawn to rebellion, even at a young age; and will soon begin to flirt here and there with striking out on her own-- smoking her mother’s cigarettes on the porch or describing her parents’ opposition to the FBI as "they though it was an act of rebellion." That streak continues with “other fathers”, kicking back against her superiors in defiance or shoving off Mulder’s ‘restrictions’ whenever she feels unappreciated. 

Melissa already seems detached from her mother’s beliefs, and is (most likely) only a year or two (or three or four) away from rescinding her faith. 

Scully, however, hangs onto Maggie’s every word: a child wholeheartedly devoted to hero worship-- one who trusts so implicitly that she ends up doubting her own opinions and beliefs. 

Scully’s necklace is markedly longer than the one she wears in canon. This presents us with one of two theories: that Maggie gifted her another one for her birthday, as she said in Ascension; or that Melissa gave her her hand-me-down when she left the faith. 

Scully loves presents. Loves. (Which works out, because Mulder loves to give them.) And Hotel California, apparently. 

The Revival was warned that Scully would not look good with this type of straight, flat bob. And yet, it persisted. 

Scully, again again, ties another dream into Emily: this time her own motherhood, gifting her younger self-- or her dream self’s daughter-- a personal family tradition. 

It’s Tara who wakes her up.

“Dana? I’m sorry,” she begins, her choice of words implying that she’s aware of Scully’s late night, “there’s a detective here to see you?”

When Scully descends, Tara is chopping food for breakfast, Maggie is serving Det. Kresge some coffee, and Bill is nowhere to be seen. He was awake early yesterday, so it’s natural to assume he’s already up and out-- maybe last minute preparations for their party later today? 

As she and Kresge move aside to privately chat, Tara and Maggie send them concerned peeks every so often. 

Of course, Scully ends up leaving. 

I want to touch on Emily Sim very briefly in this post:

After Mr. Sim is arrested, Scully hurries through the house looking for (who she presumes is) her niece. She finds her on the stairs, and the two face off blankly while Emily's father's pleas of innocence escalate off-screen.

When Scully leads the girl to the social worker’s van, Emily clings to her hand-- revealing nothing, but not unwilling to be in her care, either. Both are grim and determined; and while Scully softens as she tucks the little girl into her car seat-- “Let’s just get you buckled in here nice and safe, okay” is important; and will be discussed below-- Emily doesn’t start to brighten until she catches sight of the other woman’s cross. Without thinking, she reaches for the necklace-- a shiny present she wants to claim; like her mother-- without thinking-- again, like her mother. 

It’s searing in hindsight, knowing this tiny girl is doomed to die; but it’s also bittersweet in the moment as Emily exactly reenacts Scully's dreams and patterns of behavior.

And this leads me to a theory: with how each dream is structured, and with how Emily behaves in them, exactly as she does in real life-- always staring with large, knowing eyes and a somber, resigned expression as if she knows Scully-- I wonder if Emily is the one projecting these dreams. Whenever Scully remembers the past, Emily seems to burst through and center these memories on herself in the present. (And whether she means to or not, I wonder.) Her grandmother has prescient dreams, Melissa had sensing abilities, and Scully herself has had a fair share of psychic and supernatural experiences. I’ve theorized before that all humans have access to psychic ability because of their alien DNA (post here), but need to have a close connection to or brush with Death to unlock it (post here.)

And if that be the case, these dreams and premonitions centering Emily began to occur after Mrs. Sim’s death-- meaning, if that unlocked an ability in Emily (for whatever X-Files reason) then that could be working in tandem with Melissa’s phone calls. And if that be the case, Scully the Conduit (post here) was picking up both signals. Canon itself supports this supposition, though mildly: "You found her; and you saved her," says Mulder; "She found me," Scully corrects.

Scully reaches out to caress Emily’s hair (a mirror of Maggie Scully's maternal gestures) at the same time the girl reaches out to snag her necklace. Touched, and desperate to establish a connection, she asks, with wide eyes, “You like that, huh?” 

Emily doesn’t respond, staring, transfixed, at the cross instead; but Scully takes initiative anyway, immediately removing her chain and clasping it behind her ‘niece's’ neck. This act is a combination of many significant details, which can be summed up in two sentiments: passing on the family legacy to this newly discovered Scully, and surrounding her with God’s protection-- as Maggie had done when she was a little girl; as she did herself, seconds ago, by securing Emily's seat belt. In short, her actions are a marriage of different forms of protection: familial, physical, and spiritual. Scully extends all three to this child before she knows Emily Sim is hers. 

When it is time to go, Scully leans in with an assuring pout and promises, “I’ll see you soon, okay?” And Emily mirrors that pout, nodding up and down in earnestness.

They watch each other through the window, locking eyes as long as possible. 

At Bill and Tara’s Christmas party that evening, Scully can’t focus on the present. 

When Maggie tells her relaxing daughter-in-law, “Every year, my husband insisted on putting the angel on top of the tree by himself” and Bill, just returned from hobnobbing, teases his late dad’s masculinity-- “Man’s work”-- to her and Tara’s amusement, Scully remains distant and lost in thought. Bill looks down and notices her detachment; and, having reached his limit, asks, “Dana, can you give me a hand in the kitchen?”

Maggie immediately snaps her head over, knowing exactly what her son is doing; and Tara’s face drops, knowing exactly what her husband’s doing, too. Both women, it would appear, figure the siblings have grievances to air; but hope it won't get to insulting or catastrophic levels. They’re both adults after all, right? 

And that’s another interesting point: as uncomfortable as this shift has made Maggie and Tara-- even more so because Scully hasn’t fully returned from the cloud of her thoughts, and isn't clued in to what’s about to happen-- they’re not trying to mitigate or stop Bill. It would seem they, too, have criticisms of Dana’s behavior lately, but haven't voiced them for her and Christmas’s sake. We know this to be the case because of Bill’s accusations in the kitchen: Mrs. Scully has been sharing her daughter’s information with her son and daughter-in-law, likely in an attempt to smooth ruffled feathers or get them to understand what she’s going through. However, this, in turn, makes Scully feel judged and vulnerable; and, despite Maggie and Bill’s best intentions, she begins to retreat even more.

“What’s up?” Scully asks as Bill begins pouring himself a drink. 

“I need you to tell me what’s going on,” he says, voice light but concerned. 

“What do you mean?”

“You’re not here, Dana, you’re a million miles away. I thought you came to see the family.”

Scully, caught, sinks into annoyed despair. “I did.” 

“Well, I thought that this other thing was resolved,” Bill huffs, becoming frustrated himself. “I thought you caught the guy that murdered that woman.”

“We did,” she affirms, trying to draw him away from shaky territory but unable to look up from the ground. 

Bill, as always, sees right through her: “Then it’s about the girl, isn’t it?” 

She doesn’t answer, determined not to-- but her eyes pop up after he passes by, realizing he must have gotten that information from someone.  

Conciliatory-- trying to prove he’s on her side, that she doesn’t have to ice him out, that he understands-- Bill softly confesses, “Mom told me.” Maintaining eye contact, his voice rises higher, almost cracking at the end, “You really think Melissa had a baby?”  

“Yes, I do,” Scully admits; and her admittance now-- an admittance born from, he thinks, a crazy partnership with a crazy partner who keeps invading their family time with selfish, questing demands-- irritates him completely. 

“She call you from beyond the grave to tell you that,” he mocks, voice edged with bitterness. 

At this sudden attack, his sister is instantly furious… and hurt, tightening her chin to prevent an influx of strong, complicated emotions. 

“Sounds like something that partner of yours would say,” he concludes, somehow shifting the blame entirely off of Dana’s shoulders and onto Mulder's while simultaneously-- and accidentally-- insulting her intelligence and abilities. 

Fed up with his misunderstanding, Scully insists, “It does not matter where that phone call came from. What matters is that there is a little girl who needs my help.” 

“This isn’t about any little girl, Dana,” he snaps, done with the pretense on both sides-- a pretense she is unaware of and confused by, tilting her head in astonishment at his blunt, “It’s about you.” 

Bill continues with his half-right, half-wrong blunders: “It’s about this emptiness, this void inside yourself you’re trying to fill.” 

And that is when he takes it too far: it’s one thing to be chastised about her inconclusive connections by a mother who understands, and it’s another to be reprimanded by a brother who doesn’t; and who constantly misreads her intent. 

But the truth is: they’re both in differing degrees of wrong here-- 

Scully has spent their joint Christmas vacation taking off at all hours of the day and night without a word. To the family, this is a slap in the face, especially considering she chose to fly out to bond with them during a new and intimate chapter of their lives. (Not to mention, one of them is close to her due date and up every morning making breakfast for her guests.)

Bill is not the only person who is frustrated: Maggie, too, keeps chastising her daughter’s flakiness. Maggie, too, outright fights Scully's theories and suppositions. While struggling with her own feelings, Mrs. Scully is also forced to mitigate between her daughter and her son's pent up emotions.

While it is certainly not his place to presuppose or judge, Bill is trying to understand his sister's perspective. If that isn't difficult enough, most of his assumptions are derived from is mother-- the exact same sticky situation as the cancer arc (posts here and here.)

Because Scully isn’t communicating with anyone unless she has to, the family is left to grapple with whatever information or interpretation they can gather or think up to explain her behavior. This leads to projections and assumptions: Maggie assumes Scully is seeing Melissa everywhere the way she saw her late husband; and Bill assumes Scully is struggling with an emptiness and void that he and Tara struggled with during their infertility journey.

And that’s where Scully’s fault lies: she assumes her brother wouldn’t understand, even if she told him. She is aware, to some extent, that Bill and Tara struggled with infertility; but she hasn’t stopped to learn the details. That’s understandable, too; but when Bill blunders in and gives her unsolicited advice, he is speaking from his own feelings and emotions-- not to chastise or finger wag at her. 

And that’s where Bill’s fault lies, too: he is given no direct answer of his sister’s feelings, so he projects his own onto her to humanize her actions. This, in turn, makes him impose his own thoughts, beliefs, and wishes onto her, as well: she, too, must feel and emptiness and void at not being able to have children; and that void must be guiding her to these actions.

And that’s the really messed up part: they’re both half-right and half-wrong; but the miscommunication from all sides is exacerbating the issue. Maggie pries open Scully and shares what she finds with Bill and Tara to soothe their feelings; this gives them a faulty understanding, and clams Scully up tighter next time.

In short: the problem is, Scully isn’t communicating fully; and her half-responses leave blanks for Maggie or Bill or Tara to fill in. And when they do communicate, everyone’s opinions and thoughts-- while well-intentioned-- careen away from each other and crash in a ditch.

 Without knowing where Bill is coming from-- and possibly not registering the vulnerability in his eyes-- Scully loses the last ounce of her patience; and, rightfully, sticks up for herself: “Bill, I don’t expect you to understand but I am not going to stand here and justify my mo--” 

“Dana?” Maggie cuts in, looking between both of her children. Called back to herself, Scully grits her teeth and looks away from her brother. “There’s a telephone call for you.” 

She leaves without another word; and Maggie studies Bill intently before following her out, reading from his face that the conversation ended in disaster.

After Mr. Sim’s staged suicide, Scully returns home to a warm, inviting fireplace, eyes misting at its likeness to her former childhood memories. She then notices the manger scene, a little child in the center of so much hope and intrigue. (There is a connection between Scully's journey and this manger scene-- no, not in the way you're thinking... at least, not exactly-- which I shall touch on in the next part.)

Bill pops into the room, voice tense as he asks, “When did you get back?” 

Startled, she stares into his eyes a few seconds in silence; then, seeing he intends no harm, simply replies, “I just got back.”

“Well, you’re just in time,” he amends, diffusing his feelings for the moment. “I was on my way over to the neighbors. Mom and Tara are already there.”

Unable to keep up even a whisper of facade, Scully ducks her head, nodding with pinched eyebrows and a strained face. 

“What?” he asks, softly. “What happened?”

Her head shoots back up, eyes wide and turbulent-- was she that obvious?-- as she questions whether to tell the truth. Her eyes tear up and her mouth slightly tightens before Scully admits to Marshall Sim’s death. 

Bill is sympathetic-- empathetic, even, as he asks, “Do you think it has something to do with that little girl?”

His tenderness and openness to hearing her thoughts, and to intelligently connecting a few dots on his own, releases her strain. “I think it might,” she assents. 

He pauses, turning inward, before pronouncing, “Dana, I have to show you something.” 

Intrigued, Scully follows her brother up to the nursery-- her room-- where he digs out a photo of Melissa-- one she'd never shared with her sister. 

After handing the picture over, Bill slumps his way to the window, head down, shoulders inward.

“Look at the date on the back,” he says heavily. Missy’s death still strongly affects him, so much so that touching this part of his past is draining to Bill. Which must be particularly affecting, considering his desire to replicate every detail of his childhood, down to the same rooms, for his own nuclear family.  

The date is Oct. 7 - 94; and when Scully flips it over to check, Bill releases a weary sigh. 

“Does Melissa look pregnant to you in that picture? It’s about four weeks before the girl was born.”

This is interesting: the Scully family, as a whole, has a problem with communication-- Scully with sharing her thoughts, her job, her conflicting beliefs; Bill with his struggles and weaknesses. To reveal that he knew Melissa wasn’t pregnant in 1994, Bill would've had to dredge up that photo as proof. Instead, he’d hoped to avoid that-- just as Scully had hoped to avoid sharing her own findings and suspicions about Emily.

After their argument, Bill, it seems, wanted to sweep the disagreement under the rug and enjoy Christmas. That resolution, however, fell through after seeing Scully's crestfallen face. And after hearing his sister mention murders disguised as suicides, Bill realized his reticence was no longer a priority if Dana was putting her life in danger because of a false dream.

“Bill, it doesn’t prove anything. Melissa didn’t have to get pregnant to have a baby, there’s--” Scully grasps for an idea, eyes wandering, “--there’s in vitro fertilization, there’s surrogate motherhood--” 

“Dana,” Bill cuts in. “Listen to yourself. You’re creating this whole scenario to fulfill a dream.”

“What dream?” She knows, deep down, what he means; but hasn’t wanted to touch this thought directly. 

“To have a child.”

Again, Scully struggles with self-doubt: his reasons sound valid, and logical. Are the dreams and the phone calls and the 60% chance just projections, as her mother said, as her brother is saying? (Which he got from their mother, no doubt.) 

“Look, I…” Bill pauses, stopping and starting his own difficult admission, “I understand. I know the need--” he tears up and looks away as the words spill out, “--Tara and I tried for years. But making this girl,” he concludes, convinced in the righteousness of his pursuit, “into Melissa’s daughter is not the way. You’re only going to end up hurting yourself.” His face is iron, his warning absolute. 

But though his words waiver, they cannot convince; and Scully won’t let the possibility go, not when she still has doubts. More honestly, not when Emily calls out to a part of herself.

The doorbell rings, and Bill sighs, walking away to answer it. The second he leaves, her face wilts, mouth and nose twitching against tears. 

“Hi,” he greets; and “Hi,” he is answered. 

“I’m here to see Dana Scully.”

“Oh, may I ask, um--”

“I’m Susan Chambliss from the County. It’s about the adoption.”

At that truth bomb, Bill looks up at his sister, shooting her a “Dana?” just as her face contorts in mild panic, caught. 

Gliding past Bill’s question, she swiftly says, “Hi. Thank you for coming in on Christmas Eve,” and rushes past after one last glance at his discomfited expression. 

Here is where we get an incredibly telling look into one Dana Scully’s psychology. 

Her application for adoption is denied, and she nearly breaks down in tears as Susan kindly lays out the reasons why she shouldn’t consider adoption, stating, “You’re a single woman who’s never been married, or had a long-term relationship. You’re in a high-stress, time-intensive, and dangerous occupation-- one that I sense you’re deeply committed to. And one which would become overnight a secondary priority--”

Scully looks up, either to contradict or persuade, but bites back her reply until the other woman is finished.

“--to the care and well-being of this child. I’m not sure this is a sacrifice you’re prepared to make.”

And perhaps Scully isn’t, either: she’s rushing things (just as she later rushes the IVF, posts here and here), and is troubled that not only would she have to ease up on her dedication to her occupation-- to the X-Files, to Mulder, even-- but that she hadn’t considered she’d have to. 

“Well, it’s one that I’ve given a great deal of thought to,” she explains, nearly losing the battle to her tears. “To be honest, I’ve started to question my priorities since I was first diagnosed with cancer.” 

This revelation-- and the fact that she is struggling with her infertility and was loathe to share these struggles with Mulder this past week-- points to two possibilities:

Scully was, perhaps, looking for a way out, and Emily provided that. This isn't likely, considering the stunned reaction she has when internalizing the consequences for adopting her high-risk 'niece'.

Or Scully is misinterpreting the signs again: doubting herself, her choices, her commitments; doubting whether her sister should have died, whether she should have gotten cancer, whether she should have been stripped of her fertility.  This is not only likely but also transparently the case: she's rushing into these decisions, despite the danger, despite the fulfillment her work provides, despite the loss of her close working relationship with Mulder. Scully's staring down an endless line, and thinks Emily is the new 'right path' she faces at every crux of her life.

Scully has been struggling with the fact of her infertility for months-- so much so that she only told her mother, and then only under added pressure. Again, she is trapped in a cycle of hyper-fixation-- that endless line, post here-- doubting herself and laying unnecessary blame at her feet. We know Scully commits to then wants to backtrack on her commitment-- in other words, she has attachment issues (post here)-- and looks to other signs or other voices or "other fathers" to tell her what to do, be it dating Daniel Waterston or breaking up with him or recruiting to the FBI or doubting her recruitment or partnering with Mulder or doubting her partnership with Mulder or getting cancer or losing her faith or gaining her faith or recovering from cancer or losing her fertility or finding her 'niece'. In short, she probably sees this miracle 'happenstance' as a second chance, or a sign from God or the paranormal or the supernatural that her sister sanctions; and thinks Melissa-- who she ‘failed’-- is relying on her to save her daughter. A new mission, a new appointed path. And though it doesn't feel right, she tells herself, "There's only one right thing to do."

And yet, the thought that she’d have to give up her work shakes Scully to the core: she is in tears at the thought, but she is also in tears at losing this last chance. (Mulder senses this, too, in Emily; but, as he tells the judge, doesn’t feel it’s his right to deny a mother her child.) 

“And I feel like I’ve been given a second chance,” she admits, nailing my previous points home. 

“Ever since I was a child, I’ve, I’ve never allowed myself to get too close to people. I’ve avoided emotional attachments. Perhaps I’ve been so afraid of death or dying that any connection just seemed like a bad thing. Something that wouldn’t last.” Her dreams make more and more sense: the rabbit and the snake and the coffin and her beloved vocation. “But I don’t feel that way anymore.”

This is the reason why she brought a cheese platter to Mulder’s room in Detour; and this is the reason she took family time off and has avoided reaching out: she is caught in another cycle of self-doubt-- questioning their partnership, questioning her abilities, questioning the X-Files's endless line. But what Scully is missing is that she hasn’t taken family time off, not really-- it’s not her nature to do so, for long. Even her own vacation later this season (Chinga) is interrupted by a case, which she solves without resentment. She needs the work just as much as Mulder does-- and she knows this. But that doesn't stop the toxic pattern of self-sabotage.

“You are aware of Emily’s medical condition. I want to stress to you, Dana,” the social worker continues, “Emily is a special needs child. According to her doctors, her condition is incurable. She requires constant care, both medical and emotional. The good news is, you have first hand experience of grave illness. The bad news is, you’d have to relive it through the eyes of a child.”

Again, Scully almost breaks-- tears nearly spilling over, mouth crumbling. That is hard: she still avoids mentioning her past illness whenever possible. But what else, she believes, can she do? 

“I realize that,” she nods, wiping a tear away. “And I feel like I’m ready.” 

Scully is being tossed about by remission expectations and fertility expectations and familial expectations and her own impossible expectations; and is grasping at motherhood as the fix-it solution she thinks she needs. The reality is… she’s not ready for parenthood. She would love Emily with all her heart; but she would have had to turn from the path she chose, the one that feels right, the one she still needs to learn and grow.

There is one last dream in store for Dana Scully: Melissa joins her for a late-night couch chat, wanting to know why her little sister is up.

“You worried about Quantico, or who gets the most presents this year?” she teases, a little joke over do-gooder Scully probably being the goodest girl all year for Santa; or a delicate poke at her insanely competitive, insanely jealous younger sister. 

“I guess I’m afraid I’m making a big mistake. I could tell Dad sure thinks I am,” Scully confesses-- how easy it appears she was able to confess back then, before international conspiracies and scientific, rigorous adherence. 

“Oh. Well, it’s not his life, Dana.”

“Yeah, I know that. But y’know, when I started med school, it felt so right. It just seemed like that was where I was supposed to be. Then… and then by the time I graduated, I just knew it was wrong. And now the FBI feels right. But what if that’s wrong, too?” The self-doubts and endless lines were there from the beginning. 

“There is no right or wrong,” Melissa replies. “Life’s… just a path. You follow your heart, and it’ll take you where you’re supposed to go.” This motto defines Scully and her life choices.

“I don’t believe in fate. I think we have to choose our own path.”

And here is the voice of her conscience, her intuition, her guide: “Well, just don’t mistake the path with what’s really important in life.” 

“Which is what?”

“The people you’re going to meet along the way. You don’t know who you’re going to meet when you join the FBI. You don’t know how much your life is gonna change. Or… how you’re gonna change the lives of others.” 

Scully is being pointed once again back to her path-- the FBI-- and the people she changed there-- Mulder. As much as she craves a life with Emily, it isn't meant to be: something feels off, conflicting; but it also feels right. Because she is here to save another life-- Emily-- before going back to hers. She still has answers and truths to uncover for herself before she can leave this life, this path, with a good conscience. 

Tara wakes her from this last dream; and Bill and Maggie swoop in behind her. 

“Did Santa come?” he teases. 

“Santa’s still here,” Tara returns, pointing at Scully. 

“She always had to be the first one up on Christmas-- couldn’t wait to get into those presents,” Bill parries, cuddling up to his wife and making her and Maggie laugh. 

Mrs. Scully swoops to the couch and snuggles up to her daughter; but before anymore distractions (ahem, Bill) can continue, Tara waves him off and exclaims, “Okay, enough pleasantries! I’m dying to know what’s in this box!” 

Bill launches to the tree, excitedly passing presents to his wife, mother, and sister-- even the forgotten Scully sibling (Charlie) sent a present. For once, everything seems to be going smoothly.

A brief note on Charlie: as already mentioned here, his lore seems to be spotty at best. But there is one consistent theme: ever since they were boys, Charlie stuck around and played with Bill (per One Breath’s flashback); and that seems to have carried into adulthood. He sent a message through Bill in Memento Mori’s deleted scene, and he sent a present for the family this year through Bill again. Whatever the status of his relationship with the Scullys, he seems to always use with his elder brother as his mouthpiece-- like Melissa had been for Scully, before her death.  

“Don’t open anything-- don’t open! I’ll be right back!” Bill chirps as he rushes out of the room to answer the doorbell. 

Of course, it’s a man with a package for FBI Agent Dana Scully. Bill rushes back while she signs for then reads it; but at her prolonged silence, the room becomes still. 

“What is it?” asks Maggie, worried. 

“It’s a DNA test on Emily Sim’s blood.”

“What’s it say?” Bill asks, voice devoid of amusement as he rises to his full height. Maggie, too, is similarly unamused. 

“It says definitively that Melissa is not Emily’s mother--” Mrs. Scully looks down, anticipating unpleasant emotions for her daughter, while Bill maintains eye contact, brows lowering in stressed pity, “--but that they found striking genetic similarities between Emily and Melissa. So many that they… ran a test against another sample that they already had.”

“What sample?” Maggie questions. 

“Wh-what are you trying to say?” Bill prods-- he knows, or is afraid he knows. 

“According to this… I am Emily’s mother.” 

We’re not shown the Scully family’s reaction to this news; but the next time they appear is in court, slipping out of the judge’s chambers after giving testimony on Scully’s behalf. 

Mulder is waiting outside on a chair when Tara leads the way, approaching him trepidatiously with Bill right behind her and Maggie lagging back. As Bill steps forward, visibly fuming over the other man’s presence, Tara flashes Mulder a tight smile-- taking neither side, but remaining polite. Her husband stands his ground, forcing Mulder to go around; and stares after his sister's partner with hatred and contempt. 

The last time we see the Scully family is at Emily Sim's funeral.

Alone, Scully sits in the church, withdrawn as figure after figure passes by. Maggie's gentle hand on her shoulder rouses her-- another the one person who can understand the loss of a child.

Tears glistening in her eyes, Mrs. Scully asks, “Are you ready?”

“I think I’ll get a ride back with Mulder,” Scully replies: choosing her place not with her "normal" family but with her partner-- a woman in search of the truth, where she knows she belongs.

At least, as Melissa said, until the next thing feels right. 

They embrace in understanding, then Scully pivots to give her brother an affectionate hug goodbye. He leans his face down into her shoulder, burying his nose there while she envelops him fully. 

An important note: these are the first hugs Scully has initiated-- a gesture of comfort for her mother and brother-- and both are hugs goodbye (which will be discussed below.)

But Scully doesn’t linger long: she drifts over to Tara, who is standing behind her husband, ashamed of her own good luck and happiness. Scully beams at her sister-in-law and the baby-- she will not taint little Matthew’s arrival with sadness-- and is faintly aware that Bill is carefully watching her face, relaxing only when he sees her able to face her nephew. 

Greeting the baby with a kiss, Scully whispers, “Bye bye Matthew” as Tara’s face nearly crumbles in tenderness, relief, and sorrow. 

“We’ll see you in awhile, okay?” Tara says, and Scully assents, “Okay.”

This, then, means Scully is leaving from the church directly to the airport: ‘Bye, bye, Matthew’ and the long hugs and well-wishes only point to one conclusion. If they expected her back at the house, their goodbyes wouldn’t be so final. And that means the mystery of Emily’s coffin will never be revealed to the family-- another of Scully’s well-kept secrets. 

Maggie stays behind to trade one last smile with her daughter before following the new parents out, and Scully gives one back: she will be all right. 

So many meanings can be gleaned from Mrs. Scully's final glance back: she knows her daughter wants to heal alone, and respects her; she grieves for her daughter's loss, and she empathizes with that pain. But most importantly, I think, is that she is proud of Scully.

Scully will be all right... until her peace is spit upon posthumously: Emily's body has been spirited away. No proof of her only chance at motherhood (for now.)

MENTIONS, APPEARANCES, AND OTHER LOOSE ENDS

We hear about the Scully family twice in Season 6: You have a brother who hates me,” Mulder insists, trying to convince his partner he is who he says he is (Dreamland); "Mulder, call it whatever you like-- I've got holiday cheer to spread. I've got a family roll call under the tree at 6:00 a.m.," Scully insists when he lures her to a haunted mansion on Christmas Eve (How the Ghosts Stole Christmas.) It's obvious, then, that the events of Emily have not torn apart these relationships.

Season 7 features one mention-- in En Ami, Scully lies about going away for a family emergency; and Mulder is on familiar enough terms to call up Maggie and ask about the family emergency. It's obvious that Mulder's closeness with Scully's mother has changed between seasons; and, though he called her likely out of concern for his partner, he came away from that phone call with enough calm (it's implied) to not frighten Mrs. Scully out of her wits, unlike every other call before.

And lastly, for me, Season 8: Maggie appears at Mulder’s funeral (Deadalive)-- but doesn’t stay as long as Skinner (likely because she knows her daughter wants to be left alone)-- and her daughter's (begrudging) baby shower (Essence.)

"You know it would be a whole lot easier for everyone if you would just tell us the sex, Dana?" Maggie prods as she hurries about the party area, arranging and rearranging balloons. When Scully doesn't respond, she yells from the other room, "Did you hear me?"

"Yes I heard you, Mom, for about the thousandth time-- you can wait. Didn't you have to wait with us?"

"Well," her mother rambles on, "I just know it's a boy. I can just tell by the way you're carrying-- it's a boy."

"Well, see, you obviously don't need me to tell you because you obviously already know," Scully baits, letting her mother stand shocked and overjoyed for a few seconds without correcting her assumptions.

"Then it's a boy?"

Without replying, Scully stares her down while turning on the tap: purposefully withholding the information with a straight face and twinkle in her eye.

"Oh, it's the least you can tell your mother considering everything else you're keeping secret."

They're interrupted by a knock. The arrival of Lizzie Gill reveals another layer of Mrs. Scully's meddling: she's signed up a baby nurse to help her daughter, without her daughter's permission. Scully doesn't outright jump at the offer, but does get comfortable around Lizzie (while ignoring her mother's pointed "See?" glances) enough to later accept her assistance.

This moment-- and other similar moments like this-- paints a rather interesting picture of their dynamic:

Scully is sharing less with her mother than she used to-- or, perhaps, Maggie is realizing how much her daughter keeps secret.

Yet, it doesn't seem to disrupt their relationship: Maggie is glad to participate in any way she can, enthusiastically peppering the apartment with decorations and her daughter with questions.

Maggie hired a baby nurse for Scully: why? Apparently, she thinks Scully would be unwilling to have her mother stay over while settling into early parenthood, despite her own "retirement" and widowhood. The nurse, in question, would function as hired help for practical needs; meaning, she wouldn't be staying over, either. This establishes that Mrs. Scully is alerted to and fully supportive of her daughter's strictly enforced boundaries.

"Considering everything else you're keeping secret" means that Scully (and Mulder) have not discussed his role in her baby's life at all with other people. At. All. And that it was Scully who decided on this continued secrecy, refusing to answer any questions during her entire pregnancy. Mulder's followed in her footsteps-- and probably likes that others are hindered from asking him questions or handing out back slaps-- while everyone else has been left to make assumptions. Including Maggie Scully.

Unfortunately, Scully stumbles upon Lizzie swapping her baby vitamins; and, having eaten some already, rushes to the hospital to have a full examination. Maggie waits with Mulder in the hallway; and after the doctor gives her patient an all-clear, Mrs. Scully rushes in and asks for her daughter's forgiveness.

"I'm so sorry, Dana." Seeing that Scully is frozen in place, trying to master her emotions, her mother initiates the embrace-- as she always has-- and continues, "This is all my fault. I brought this into your home. You know I would never let anything happen to you," she adds, a repeat of her words in Wetwired, while looking down at her daughter's baby bump. "Would never knowingly let anybody hurt you."

Scully keeps her head down, but assures, "I know, Mom."

Studying her face, Maggie adds, "I'm so worried about you. You keep everything so bottled up." This, then, paints Maggie's overbearing meddling and thousand-and-one questions in another light: anticipation over her grandchild, yes; but also frenzied worry and concern for her daughter, as well.

Again, Scully doesn't answer, nodding along as if to soothe her mother rather than admit her reticence; then looks aside to Mulder before his attention is pulled away and consumed by Skinner. However, it is important to note Maggie was included in this hospital visit: we know she's no longer on Scully's paperwork (hasn't been since pre-One Breath, that we're aware of; and hasn't shown up for any of Scully's S8 medical emergencies, which proves she was completely in the dark.) And we know Scully would have called Mulder, regardless, to help apprehend Lizzie Gill once the other woman was caught. But Scully chose to call up her mother and ask her to the hospital: perhaps because she feared the worst, the premature death of her baby. It's one thing to fear miscarriage before you've told your mother about the pregnancy (Via Negativa), and it's another thing entirely to lose the baby after your mother is invested in its arrival.

And that's it for Maggie Scully, Bill Scully, Charlie Scully, Tara Scully, or Matthew Scully's appearances! Or so I decree, as someone whose stops canon at Season 8~.

I leave Season 9 and IWTB and the Revival for those who want to take up the mantle and explore the Scully family for me: it wouldn't be fair to this series to spend the last few parts picking apart my grievances.

CONCLUSION 

That's it for the Scully family! Can you believe we've come this far?

Only two parts left: the tragedy of Emily Sim, and the failure and success of Scully's (and Mulder's) journey to parenthood.

Thanks for reading~

Enjoy!

[bellewintersroe]

Max Verstappen x HornerDaughter!

Part 8, here’s the LINK to part 7, how tf have I got so far already? Pls comment guys to let me know what you’re thinking or if you have any conspiracy’s about what’s gonna happen, I love the engagement, keeps me motivated lol. Also just a quick shout out I don’t dislike Kelly, I just used her for the story as it’s FICTION, if ya’ll hate desperately on peoples partners for no justified reason then leave pls cos it’s weird. Only a short chapter but I wanna get more of a build up before we reach more deeper into the story :)

Leni wakes up with one of the worst hangovers ever, plus, she’s on the bathroom floor? That would be the worst part of the night, but when her memory pieces back together and she has to deal with what happened the night before going back to sleep on the bathroom floor seems fine… Taglist: @ironmaiden1313 @callsignwidow @fangirl125reader @norassimpingzone @roseseraj @eugene-emt-roe @copper-boom @its-elias-world @cassiopeiia24 @larastark3107

“Ugh.” My voice cracked, eyes momentarily opening only to squeeze shut again when a blinding light, sunlight, stung my eyes. My first thought was, fuck, I’d left my contact lenses in, my second, why on earth was on the bathroom floor?

Momentarily I was dazed, my eyes feeling like they had cheese shredders in them. I peeled the dry lenses out of my eyes, dropping them in the toilet. Thankfully it was a clean toilet and I didn’t wake up to my own vomit. With a groan and a slight grace, I sat up straight, blinking around the room. My phone laid besides me, and shakily, I reached out to unlock it. As I did I wanted to curl up and DIE. A drunken text from Max only caused flashbacks from the night prior. We kissed, and I really fucking enjoyed it. Me and Max kissed. Max Verstappen and I, my long time FRIEND kissed. My heavy head dropped into my palm, groaning again. I’d broken every single rule I’d set myself, NOT to go there, or at least wait a few months. Drunken me seemingly had the control of a horny 18 year old. When I realised I had 0 underwear on that’s when I became even more confused.

We hadn’t had sex? No, no. For sure we hadn’t done that. I don’t think he fingered me? Turns out they were stuffed in my bag for some bizarre reason, and I couldn’t quite piece together why on earth they weren’t actually on me. I don’t even know if I wanted to know, thinking about it too much gave me a serious case of hangxiety, and my poor stomach couldn’t tolerate it. Pathetically, I wretched over the toilet and threw up even more contents from my nights intake.

Please God, stop me being sick and I will never drink again. Ever!

It was crazy how such an extreme hungover could bring an atheist to become religious, right? With last nights actions I couldn’t even bring myself to respond to Max, plus, his message made no sense, something about being too drunk and his birthday. I felt too much shame, he probably only kissed me because he was just as fucking plastered. I was confident he’d never want to do that sober, surely not?

The only thing I could do was sit down in the shower, contemplating every single action from the night before, letting the water cleanse my skin of the pure sins. What would my dad say if he knew I’d been snogging his golden boy? It would make it awkward to say the least.

I laid in bed, hair dripping onto the pillows but I didn’t have it in me to care. I’d added too much embarrassing shit to both my private and public Instagram story which had already been viewed and most likely screenshotted thousands of times. Mortified wasn’t even the right word, if it wasn’t for my empty stomach I would’ve vomited from that alone.

Max: sorry that made no sense, hope you’re not feeling too rough this morning? thank you for coming yesterday I had such a good time Max: I hope nothing makes you feel weird from last night, it’s fine between us right?

When I awoke at 2pm I felt my chest tighten at Max’s texts. I even smiled that he had acknowledged last night, a little weird of me seeing as I wanted to pass away earlier, but with my hangover relatively slept off, my feelings for Max were coming on strong.

Leni: hey I just woke up again sorry, I had such a good time, hope you had a good bday

Leni: I don’t feel weird, we’re all good Leni: do you? I caught myself smiling a little too hard, awaiting his reply, when I saw the speech bubble of him forming a response and started giggling, I knew that I was already a goner. I was so deep down afraid of getting my heart broke seeing as Max was fresh out of a relationship (even if he’d mentally checked out) I had to push myself away from any kind of intimate interaction. It had already gone way too far.

Max: no, no not at all

Max: probably the best birthday I’ve had I hated how hard I smiled, my heart kinda sunk when I began overthinking everything I didn’t need to. It all seemed fun now, but how would something between Max and I ever work. What if he decided one day this was all too soon, or if he didn’t actually like me? Our friendship would be screwed forever. I hesitantly locked my phone, staring off into space as I began imagining every scenario possible. I’d have no option but to revert whatever happened between Max and I back into how it was before, if that was even possible. What if Max suddenly thought I was super obsessed with him and I was bugging him by texting him too often?? I scratched my head uncomfortably at the thought, cringing down to my bones at the idea I could possibly be a nuisance to him.

One way to fix this??? Cut communication online from slim to nothing- or as least as I possibly could without growing attached or seeming rude. It was a plan, and it was a plan that commenced today, as much as I didn’t actually want to do it, as long as I didn’t have a sip of alcohol I’d be fine… right?

What could go wrong?

[fionnasbunnyhat]

Summary: You and Fionna meet for the first time

warning(s): Fluff, swearing, and i think that's it.

I was tired and really wanted a coffee to start my day, I haven't been here long so I didn't know which place would have good coffee. I saw a cute little old-looking shop 'the Beatrice Buttler's bakery' The big sign read. I decided that a cute shop like this and it's close to work? Perfect. I walked across the dead road and opened the door to a chime noise. I saw one other girl in the store, she had blonde hair that was messy put in a tie and a stressed look on her face. She was talking to the pink haired male that was working there. They both turned to face me and I saw the girls face, she was near my age I know that for sure. "Hi, sorry are you taking her order?" I said feeling like I had disturbed their conversion "No, what could I get for you?" The male's voice was cheerful and calm like a sweetie.

The girl who was now sat down was watching me, her eyes following me. "Could I just get a regular and a cookie?" I don't start work until tomorrow but I firgured it's smart to look out beforehand to get a good memory. "Of course!" He said smiling and turning around while grabbing a few things. I stood there moving my feet around myself, a few minutes later he handed me a bag. "That will be 4.50 please" I gave him the money and sat down at a table, a few more people came in while I was standing in the line so the blonde haired girl couldn't speak to the worker. She decided to move herself and sat on a chair in front of me, I felt rude not saying anything so I placed my phone down and smiled at her. "Hey!"

"You seem too happy" I wasn't expecting that to be the first thing that came out her mouth but okay "Sorry, is it unnerving?" I stopped smiling and gave more of a upset or dead faced. "Hmm...no it's just how are you happy living here?" She had to have lived here long enough to see how sad this city is. To be truthful I didn't really like this place but the rent at my house isn't that bad. "I don't know" I said, where is this conversion going? "My name's Fionna" She said while eating a biscult. "YN" I smiled for a split second before taking the cookie from the bag and starting to eat it. "YN? That's a cool name" Fionna started telling me about her jobs, her cat and how she knows the owner of the shop and a bunch of other things I forgot.

The next day before work I came in and she was there, she seemed to be more happy than yesterday. "Hey Fionna and Garyyy?" I said, she mentioned his name being Gary but I still wasn't sure. "Yep thats me" He said pointing to him while letting out a smile. "Could I get the same as yesterday, just a basic coffee and a cookie" He nodded while smiling "So- YN where do you work?" Fionna said coming close to me, her hair seems to get messier and messier but somehow I like it. I told her where and she started talking about random things after that. She spoke a lot, I listened and tried to remember all the things she told me but it was hard.

"If your ever free would you like to hang out outside of here?" I said I was just about to leave for work "Oh- Yeah are you free Friday" She said smiling while fixing herself up a bit. "Yeah! Wait hold on" I grabbed a pen from my bag and looked at her. "Could I have your hand?" She put her hand in front of me and I turned it around to the palm and wrote down my number, she was confused on what i was doing. "That's my number, message me on where we should meet Fi" I said giving her a quick nickname and I sped-walked out while waving.

When I got home from work I sat on my bed and grabbed my phone unlocking it for the first time today and I saw a message 'Hi' 'It's Fionna' 'from the store' 'the one with the cat called cake' 'I was thinking maybe your place if your up for that :p' I smiled at her messaged 'Yeah that's fine with me do you want me to pick you up?' I wasn't sure how far away she was from mines. 'Where do you live (Not in a creepy way)' I chuckled at her comment and replied 'XXXXXXXXX' I sent my address 'Wait holy shit- we don't live that far away from each other. 'Oh?' She sent her address and she was right it was pretty close. 'I'll see you tomorrow!' I messaged before going to sleep.

I'll make a part 2 I just don't know how big the limit is on Tumblr :D

[coldresolve]

Moneymakers, pt.li // Risk

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Conrad jolts awake when the door he’s propped up against pops open, sliding away from him. He leans sideways until the cuffs grate harshly against bruises, letting out a groan. Left and right are hard to differentiate as Davin crouches down next to him, looking uncharacteristically exhausted.

“Shit took a turn, hm? Sorry to keep you waiting.”

As if Conrad has a clue how long it’s been. He finds it hard not to grimace when Davin brings the knife to his hands, even if he knows it’s just to cut the zip ties. His voice is still distant, rough. “Is he…?”

“Renee?”

Conrad nods.

Davin shrugs a shoulder. “He’s still got most of his organs. Decent start, all things considered.”

Once the ties are cut, he unlocks the cuffs, one after the other. Pocketing steel as he turns Conrad’s hands over to gauge the abrasions in his skin. Whatever heat remained in the car is quick to seep out, making the air icy. Davin ushers him forward, and he follows along with sluggish, unsteady movements, finds himself already exhausted by the time he swings his legs out the door.

“Do you think you can walk? We’re not in a rush this time.”

Conrad shakes his head, blinking hazily at the concrete floor.

Maybe it’s obvious, because Davin pauses to look at him, then touches his cheek and forehead with a hand that feels painfully cold. A line appears by his nose when he shakes his head. “It just keeps getting better.”

The garage is foreign, but it connects to a narrow hallway he vaguely recognizes. It’s a colorful home, almost cozy if you disregard the strong smell of disinfectant hanging in the air. Pain is constant in Davin’s arms, something Conrad has to bite to avoid making noises about – the arm pressing into the bruises on his back makes it hard to breathe, or think.

He doesn’t get more than a glimpse of the first room, but it imprints itself in his mind. All spent tissues, thin metal tools discarded, clear tubes hanging disconnected from IV stands. There’s blood on the floor. A lot of it, or maybe it just looks like that because shoeprints have smeared it around. It looks like something horrific happened, but Davin doesn’t even pause. Instead he silently pushes the second door open with his back

Conrad’s eyes are drawn by memory to the wallpapers first, thin vertical stripes of red, white and yellow. A bed lines either side of the room: one he remembers lying in, while the other isn’t more than a mattress on a foldable frame, a couple feet closer to the ground than the other.

Renee is lying on his back, unconscious and naked apart from a cloth that covers his crotch. Part of his face is obscured by blue plastic connecting the hose of a machine to a thick tube that disappears between his teeth. An IV in his left hand and the crook of the elbow, sticky pads on his chest, an armband of gray nylon, and a clamp on his finger all connect wires to different devices held by . A set of clear tubes have been sewn into the skin of his stomach, draining blood into two bottles at his side. Apart from bruising, old and new, those are the only visible injuries on his abdomen; the rest is covered with white gauze, folded and taped down on an area that covers far more than the wound Conrad saw in the car.

A man stands leaning over one of Renee’s hands, dark fingers carefully running over one side of his palm, feeling out the bones underneath. His profile is vaguely familiar, as is the diligence in the way he moves. He doesn’t look up when Davin carries Conrad to the opposite bed, just nods in the direction of one of the displays. “Already fighting the vent, though I don’t reckon he’ll be back until tonight.”

Davin sighs. “Late shift, hm?”

“Should’ve timed it better,” the man chuckles.

The mattress is thin enough that Conrad feels the springs underneath. The smell of detergent blooms from the covers. As he gets settled, body aching, he draws his legs up, wrapping his hands around his ankles.

His focus is drawn to Renee compulsively, deadlocked.

The mechanical, even rise and fall of his chest, the stillness of his face, not just unnatural for him, but unnatural, period. His hand isn’t clenched or shaking, but is instead limply steered by the man lining up a fracture. No sign of pain even at that. No grin, no sneer, no frown. Just closed eyes and pale, scratched skin. Someone must’ve cleaned him up, but missed a spot behind his ear, a patch of either dirt or dried blood about the size of a quarter.

It doesn’t feel fair to picture him as a ticking bomb threatening to explode the moment he goes back to normal, even if Conrad can’t shake that feeling. Renee doesn’t look like a torturer right now. He just looks injured, and it messes with Conrad’s head, like a tapestry flipped to expose the knots that allow it to be.

Davin taps his shoulder with a glass of water. His other hand is cupped, obscuring its contents.

“Wh…?”

“Painkillers,” Davin says. “If you want them, anyway.”

Conrad is still for a moment before he reaches out, letting Davin pour the pills into his cupped hand. He tilts them all into his mouth in one go, taking the glass as the film begins to dissolve. He drinks all of it, although it doesn’t fully wash away the bitter taste.

The dark-skinned man has turned to watch him. He hesitates before offering a careful smile. “Do you remember me?”

Conrad moves his tongue in his mouth, eyes faltering to the ground. “I don’t remember your name.”

“That’s alright. I’m Shaun.”

He shifts. Different thoughts float around his head, things he might’ve said if he weren’t too fatigued to make an attempt at confrontation. Instead he murmurs out a half-hearted, “Okay,” and leaves it at that.

Shaun doesn’t ask his name in return. He doesn’t say anything, in fact, just nods and eventually returns to strapping two of Renee’s fingers to a splint. 

The silence resettles. Davin sinks into a chair by the wall, sitting for a long time with his elbows on his knees as if thinking, before he leans back, head against the wall, closing his eyes. Quietly, Shaun works on lesser injuries, a couple lacerations here and there too deep to leave alone.

And Conrad watches that perfectly even rate of each inhale and exhale, listens to the rhythmic hiss of the machine pushing air into paralyzed lungs.

It has occurred to him that Renee might’ve been broken long before that first night, but being presented with it this brazenly following another night of terror at his hands is nauseating in a way he can’t fully put words to. It’s cosmic. It expands beyond everything that has happened between the two of them, touches at some universal fact Conrad isn’t entirely sure he has the stomach to grapple with. That maybe the only thing separating their suffering is the degree of complicity.

Maybe the only real question is how far back one could trace Renee’s self-destruction, how many lies he might conceivably have told himself before the cracks began to form.

Closed eyes, mechanical breathing.

In the beginning, Renee would order him to beg – only to lash out in anger whenever he finally did.

Conrad feels faint.

He’s been so wrapped up in the spiral of thoughts that he hasn’t noticed a third person entering the room. A woman has walked past Davin to a low side table near the foot of Renee’s bed. Her back is turned as she filters through a basket of different vials in search of something specific, tight curls wrapped in a low ponytail, a beige cardigan swaying when she moves.

Something happens when she turns around, and Conrad’s only warning is the subtly sharp look Davin has levelled at her. She lets out a small gasp when her gaze locks with Conrad’s.

“Oh, dear,” she breathes.

From Renee’s side, Shaun reaches out as if to stop her, but she has already crossed the room, crouching down in front of Conrad. He catches the silent grimace on Shaun’s face when he closes his hand around empty air.

“I didn’t know we had someone else coming in,” the woman murmurs. Conrad stiffens when she brushes a curl from his forehead, taking in the injuries to his face. “You poor thing, you look so sad. What h—”

When she takes his hand, he instinctively reels back a little, and it makes her look. He follows her gaze to nail beds that have calloused in the absence, and the scar on the back of his hand that dips in. Half hidden by his sleeve are the abrasions on his wrists, scabs formed across the thin skin. Weeks of metal wearing it down.

“Imani,” Shaun says gently.

Conrad mirrors the woman’s wide eyes, the same uncertainty. She looks up, and this time, she tilts his head to get a better look at the side of his face that isn’t bruised and swollen. Lips parted, she takes a deep breath, as if steeling herself. “Shaun, this is the boy they’ve been talking about.”

Picking dirt from his nails, Davin glances up without raising his head. “Who?”

Imani braces a hand on the mattress to look over her shoulder. “How is he here?” she asks. “Why in the world would he be with you?”

Davin narrows his eyes. “I’m not sure I understand the question.”

“Are you toying with me?” She lets out an incredulous breath. With a light squeeze to Conrad’s hand, she gets to her feet to face Davin, crossing her arms. “Tell me what’s going on.”

He snorts. “What happened to client discretion, hm?”

“You’re more than a client and you know it,” she says, voice low, but there’s a hint of frustration in it now.

Maybe Conrad is reading too much into it, but she stands between him and Davin with her feet apart, like a barrier, a shield, and it makes his throat tighten.

“Don’t you dare act like I’m being unreasonable, Kit. Answer my question.”

“Imani,” Shaun says again.

“No, look at him!” she hisses. “Look at him, Shaun, look at his hands. Don’t tell me you can’t see what that is.”

Through a vision rapidly blurring, Conrad can discern the accusatory note not just in her voice, but in the way she gestures – pointing, feet apart, chin up.

“Was he here the last time? Did you know?”

Shaun winces. “Imani, we can’t.”

Shaking her head, Imani rubs her shoulder. She nods at Renee’s bed. “Is he involved in it, too?”

As the first trace of wetness rolls down Conrad’s face, he shudders. He can barely breathe, let alone squeeze words out without his voice breaking. It’s barely audible, even to himself. “H-he—”

“Maybe you’re right.”

Davin speaks up evenly, catching Imani’s gaze as her attention snaps back to him.

“That I’m not just a client, I mean. If that’s the case, all I can ask is for you to trust me to the same extent I trusted you and your husband by coming here. Twice, in his case. You share some risk simply by us being here, and I’m sorry to have put you in this situation, but my partner was dying, and I had nowhere else to go.” His eyes drift toward Conrad, as if by chance, before his focus returns to Imani and his tone drops. “This is just not the sort of thing you want to insert yourself into.”

As Conrad grits his teeth to suppress a whine, Imani shakes her head again, slower this time. “Are you behind this? Did you…?”

“I’m not going to answer your questions, Imani.”

Shaun clears his throat, carefully putting his hand on her shoulder. “Maybe it’s a good idea if you and I talked in private,” he mutters low.

She takes a deep breath, still looking at Davin. “I can’t just leave him with you if I don’t know...”

“I understand your concern,” Davin says. “I do, trust me. If it’s any consolation, his torturer is currently incapacitated.”

Imani’s shoulders drop. She looks at Renee’s bed again. Hesitates, perhaps having the same trouble visualizing his unconscious body as anything but wounded, in the same way Conrad just did.

He’s struggling to stay present again, fighting the draw of feeling nothing. The room slips in and out of focus.

“C’mon, honey, he’s upset. We’ll talk, alright?”

As Shaun gently guides his wife toward the door, the word wait tries to push its way past Conrad’s throat, but all that comes out is a low huff. He uncoils himself, leaning toward them, hands clawing at the bedsheets.

Imani says something, but he doesn’t hear it.

“Please, wait—”

The door is already closing when he finally manages to breathe the words out, and the only person who hears it is Davin.

Despite his captor’s lack of expression, when their eyes meet across the room, the meaning is clear.

Previous / Masterlist / Next

[captainpineappl3]

LEGO Red Dead Redemption is a game we need:

You might see a similar post from @phantom-of-the-501st because we were talking about this together!

Also spoilers for the RDR games.

Base Game Concept: We've all played a LEGO game and we know that they frequently make games for other franchises such as Star Wars. LEGO RDR follows the entire storyline from prequel of the second game all the way to the end of the first game. If the game is too big with all that then we remove the first game because RDR2 adapts much better (sorry).

The World: LEGO games have used a large scale open world before so we can assume the exact same for RDR. The LEGO Hobbit game I'm pretty sure used a massive scale map which admittedly you mostly fast travel around but you could walk around a lot too. Another good example is LEGO City Undercover, a very detailed world to explore.

(side note I only just realised the "i" in "CiTY" is the only letter that isn't capitalised)

Obviously including all of the side missions from Red Dead Redemption and Red Dead Redemption 2 would likely be too much for the game include so as an alternative, we reduce them down to character unlocks and small Easter eggs/tasks. Another good example of this is how it's done in LEGO Jurassic World where you can occasionally find sick dinosaurs and you have to search around the area to find what they need.

Now imagine this but with a random character from RDR/RDR2 like Albert Mason. You meet him, the coyote steals his bag and runs away, leaves it in a place that's difficult to reach. Now it's your job to work out how to get it back, perhaps using a lasso or hitting some targets or the good old LEGO building a small object to reach it.

Completing these small side missions can unlock the character for you or give you a red brick/collectibles perhaps (more on those later). Missions that can't be adapted very well can simply be turned into character purchases. Imagine wandering the bayou and finding that cabin with the poem about Jimmy Brooks, then you turn around and the good old Strange Man is stood in the corner ready for you to purchase him.

Unlockable characters also gives you easy opportunities for an Easter egg like Red Harlow.

The Story: The story is possible to adapt to a LEGO game form although obviously it has some significant difficulties we'll cover later. As stated above, RDR2 is our priority to include so the game of course starts with Colter, the whole gang is there in their beautiful LEGO form. Just like the original game, Colter is entirely used to teach the player the basic mechanics of the game. Here's an example of a few starting missions.

Outlaws From The West teaches you basic combat and you finish by unlocking Sadie as a character.

Enter, Pursued By A Memory teaches you how to do parkour and unlocks John (that or John isn't unlocked until the epilogue).

Eastward Bound where Arthur broke the goddamn wheel? Sounds like a great time to do some building, hitting targets and doing some parkour to go get the wheel and the rest of the stuff that fell off the wagon!

You get the point, the story is adapted into LEGO form making use of all the same stuff you've seen in LEGO games before. Some missions could probably be removed or several missions can be combined into a singular level. There's one massive problem you may have realised about this though...

LEGO is a very kid friendly company and well, Red Dead Redemption certainly is not...

How can we fix that?

Adapting Red Dead Redemption To Be Kid Friendly: Well obviously we have the simple steps of just... not including the murder dungeons? Head explosions via sudden increases in kinetic energy applied through double barrel shotguns wouldn't be a concern anyway since LEGO people literally explode into their individual pieces upon death anyway.

But then we have the big concern about the choice language in RDR.

Fixing Red Dead Redemption's Language To Fit LEGO: We all know where this is going right? An aspect of LEGO games that we all know and loved yet sadly hasn't been seen in ages. The non-verbal noises. We can probably steal a few sounds from the original games. Arthur has plenty of "argh"s when he gets shot that would fit perfectly with LEGO's style. But I think we also should still bring in the voice actors to make some noises for it.

In the event that we do keep a few voice lines, I personally recommend "LENNYYYY!".

But what about how this impacts the story? How will Dutch explain all his amazing plans? How will the Pinkertons threaten the gang? So much of the game relies on verbal communication to progress the story!

How To Replace The Talking: Our first issue is Dutch explaining all his plans. If he can't speak up then how could he get his points across about making a lot of money and leaving to Tahiti?

Simple! If you're not at camp, Dutch does an overly animated pause as he thinks before suddenly and excitedly reaching into his pocket and pulling out a hastily drawn diagram on a piece of paper illustrating exactly what to do.

If you're at camp then there's plenty of options available, my personal favourite being he wheels in a whiteboard and draws on it with his coloured pens whilst the gang all sits there on the floor with their legs crossed looking up at their great glorious leader.

It's the exact same for whenever the Pinkertons come to demand Dutch from the gang. They walk up and pull out a wanted poster of Dutch and angrily growl at the gang.

Also just to make sure Micah is still unlikeable despite not being able to insult anyone, we may just have to make him a bit of a bully. Stealing food, kicking and shoving people out his way, forcing others to do work for him etc.

Speaking of Dutch and his ability to manifest a whiteboard out of nowhere, it's about time we finally discuss characters.

Character And Their Abilities: LEGO games are known for their characters having different abilities and I think it's best we make the entire gang as playable characters of course. Maybe not all available at the start but they certainly are needed eventually. Here's the main ideas for the gang so far and their abilities. A lot of them are still yet to be worked out.

Dutch - Investigative (able to find details others can't that then reveal objects or their locations) Hosea - Disguises Arthur - ? John - ? Javier - ? Bill - Strong (able to break objects other's can't) Micah - Dynamite (can place it and thrown as a projectile) Charles - Tracker (able to see footsteps and follow trails) Sean - Pyromaniac (throws fire bottles like which cause splash damage on impact unlike dynamite which has a fuse) Lenny - Double jump/more agile? Sadie - ? Karen - Disguises/Distractions (able to lure NPCs away from places) Tilly - Double jump/more agile? Mary-Beth - Pickpocket? Uncle - ? but he has to throw out his back after any strenuous activity. Abigail - ? Susan - ? Pearson - ? Strauss - ? Trelawny - Disguises Swanson - ? Kieran - ? Molly - ? Jack (young) - Small and can go through crawlspaces.

Most if not all of them will also have some sort of ranged weapon depending on what they mostly use in game. Arthur likely with a revolver, Charles with a bow, Susan with a shotgun etc.

Some characters may also act slightly differently, a good example being brutes like Tommy in the Valentine saloon who is harder to fight and requires you to fight differently, like the stronger opponents seen in LEGO City Undercover.

Another important thing is collectibles.

Collectibles: Red bricks are obvious. They're in every LEGO game and there's always the obvious ones like stud multipliers. But we can also include ridiculous ones like: All horses become cars, Lawmen and Pinkertons have little police lights on their head, All guns become water pistols, Dynamite explodes in confetti, All guns fire explosives.

We could also consider other collectibles like special hats or weapons.

The final point I have to cover here is character deaths.

Character Deaths (obvious spoilers): The story has to reach some character deaths eventually... it's inevitable. But LEGO likely isn't going to be very comfortable with good ol' Sean Maguire getting the worst surprise party ever.

How do we fix this?

SLAPSTICK COMEDY!

We can't keep them around because the story doesn't make sense so we have to remove them in LEGO friendly ways. Here are my suggestions!

Jake Adler - Technically already dead but to avoid showing a corpse in the wagon we just go with a classic skeleton.

Sean - As you walk through the streets sudden swinging log booby trap flies down and absolutely punts Sean into orbit, never to be seen again before a the gunfight rolls out.

Kieran - Instead of being killed and rode into camp, a cutscene is shown where Kieran is on guard around the camp, caught by O'Driscolls and quickly tied up and thrown into a dingy which floats away before the O'Driscolls send a fake scarecrow copy of Kieran into camp which confuses the whole gang before the ambush attack.

Hosea - Instead of the scene that broke everyone's heart, Hosea boots Milton right in his little brick balls and jumps down a drain into the sewers.

Lenny - Whilst running across the rooftops Lenny is caught in a snare trap which quickly loops around his foot and lifts him away with party balloons.

Molly - Miss Grimshaw during the middle of Molly's rant pops Molly's head of just like a LEGO minifigure would be and boots it off into the woods causing Molly's headless body to go chasing after it. That or another idea which I think I prefer is Dutch and Molly have a dramatic argument in the middle of camp, once again someone gets kicked in the balls before Molly storms off, never to return.

Leviticus Cornwall - Whacked around the head with a frying pan by Dutch or Micah causing him to fall overboard from his boat and he is chased away by a shark.

Cold O'Driscoll - It may be best to change the story a bit here and instead of making sure Colm is hanged, you make to make sure he gets arrested by either leading them to the cops or leading the cops to them.

Eagle Flies - Instead of being shot he is whacked round the head with a frying pan and knocked out, almost arrested before Arthur saves him and you return him to the Wapiti tribe albeit a little dazed.

Agent Milton - Arthur, Abigail and Sadie beat him up, tie him up then shove him inside a barrel and stick it on a passing ship.

Miss Grimshaw - Tricked by Micah somehow (maybe by him pointing behind her making her turn away from him) before somehow she is dragged away perhaps by Micah typing her to a horse or something.

Arthur Morgan - Rather than Arthur dying, he helps John to escape (more on this later).

Micah - I'd love to kill this man but LEGO probably wouldn't allow that. I'm not sure how you work around that. Maybe you freeze him in a bit of ice and turn him in to the lawmen but honestly I don't know.

I don't know Red Dead Redemption 1 as a game well enough to discuss the character deaths in it as I have never played it through (sorry but I cannot ride a horse in that game) however with the death of John and Uncle, instead of being killed by the Pinkertons, in exchange for john's help capturing the gang, John, Uncle, Jack and Abigail are all rewarded with an all expenses paid trip to Tahiti. The final thing to note in all of this is what we see in the credits of the game and the thing I said I'd elaborate on with Arthur.

The Credits: Just like the original Red Dead Redemption games, the credits feature cutscenes showing the aftermath and current events happening once the gang falls apart. The cutscenes go like this:

Remember how Sean got launched into oblivion back in Rhodes? Well the first shot we see is of a nice sandy beach and who comes falling out the sky? The good ol' Irish legend himself! He's made it to wonderful Tahiti.

A little after Sean has set up his nice camp on the shores of Tahiti, who comes rocking up in a little boat still tied up by the O'Driscolls? That's right, it's Kieran.

Y'know it really is strange but did you know that the sewers of Saint Denis seem to connect up with the plumbing networks of Tahiti? It's honestly quite nice because it means Hosea was actually able to wander through them and eventually find himself with the others on the nice sandy shores.

Lenny! Whilst he's flying over the ocean looking pretty bored and annoyed that he got to miss out on all the fun back at that bank robbery, he suddenly notices Hosea, Sean, and Kieran all looking up at him from the beach and manages to untie himself from the rope of the balloons, dropping himself down to them where they all hug and reunite.

Turns out after Molly's breakup with Dutch she really just needed to get away from it all and clear her head. Good thing that she was able to afford a one way ticket to Tahiti!

Miss Grimshaw ends up their somehow I don't know.

Arthur. My sweet old boy. After helping John escape the gang and the Pinkertons he finds himself at a port, waiting for a boat. His brother John says one final goodbye to him and waves from the pier as Arthur pulls out a ticket from his back pocket and puts on his sunglasses and Hawaiian flower shirt and boards the ferry of too the wonderful Tahiti where he spends his days lounging around in a deckchair next to his horse (also in a deckchair), sipping his drink from a coconut through a straw with a little parasol in it as Hosea and Lenny come to sit by his side. Obviously because he's warm and relaxed his Tuberculosis heals too and he's cured. Amazing!

This concludes my 2395 word explanation of why we need a LEGO Red Dead Redemption game and the amazing ways it could be adapted. Come on, Rockstar, you're already a games development studio just get that partnership and work with Traveller's Tales and their experience to make this a thing!

[b4ts1e]

▀▄▀▄▀▄Their Warm Embrace▄▀▄▀▄▀ (𝚏𝚎𝚖!𝙼𝙲)

𝙲𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚎𝚛'𝚜 𝙸𝚗𝚌𝚕𝚞𝚍𝚎𝚍: 𝚀𝚒𝚞/𝙰𝚞𝚝𝚞𝚖𝚗 𝙻𝚒𝚗 𝚃𝚊𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝙱𝚊𝚞𝚖𝚊𝚗𝚗 𝙾𝚙𝚊𝚕 𝚂𝚎𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚍 𝙼𝙲 𝚂𝚎𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚍 (𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝙾𝙻:𝙽&𝙵)

𝙲𝚘𝚗𝚌𝚎𝚙𝚝:

Step 2, as the request says- so the main trio are all 14! I'm also going to take the insecurity part a bit further- so warning for that.

(𝚃𝚑𝚒𝚛𝚍 𝙿𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚘𝚗)

The sun was beaming down on the town of Golden Grove, most would see this as good- but for one girl in particular, it felt like irony. She was best friends with some of the prettiest people in Golden Grove, at least in her opinion- and yet as the sun shone brightly on the small town she felt...out of place. MC Second, that's the girl silently suffering from her own thoughts on herself- hiding behind a carefully crafted smile that's been almost perfected through her most recent years of life. Middle school was rough, it's when everyone started to develop physically and everything started to change from a happy, colorful, childhood day dream to a dusty gray, worrisome, life hazard. But like I said before- she had almost perfected that sunny sweet smile. Almost. Most people wouldn't be able to see past the blinding light of that smile, those who knew MC best- people such as Tamarack, Qiu, and her mother could see something was wrong. The three were worried for her, after all- even when asked she'd avoid the question and give them that sickeningly sweet smile, her own mask.

It had been around a week since MC had taken time to hang out with her friends outside of walking to and from school back to their homes in the cul-de-sac, or lunch periods- which they've even noticed she had been eating far less then usual, it only made them worry more. Autumn was the first to bring it up without MC around to her mom, seeing if she knew what was making their friend act so differently. Sadly, it was a dead end from her as well- Opal's work had been more demanding lately, resulting in her coming home late into the night.

When he had discussed it briefly with Tamarack, hoping he'd get something from her- but she also knew nothing due to being busy with strings practice. Soon they knew they'd have to take the initive and confront MC personally, and that's where we stand now. Autumn standing right outside his best friend's, and crush's, door- waiting for an answer after knocking.

(𝚀𝚒𝚞'𝚜 𝙿𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚙𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚟𝚎)

When I received no answer, my worry grew ten-fold. MC wasn't the type to not answer the door, hell they used to rush excitedly to open it- the memory made my cheeks warm slightly but I shook it off quickly. Now was not the time. "Luckily I know where the spare key is kept." I muttered to myself, quickly grabbing it- unlocking and opening the door as quietly as possible. I carefully closed the door behind me, being as quiet as possible as I slowly searched the house for MC. Once the first floor was cleared I headed for the stairs, before hearing a loud thump of something hitting the wall before clattering to the floor. I quickly rushed up to her room, hearing soft crying on the otherside of the door- cautiously I entered the room. The sight broke my heart. Seeing MC balled up in the smallest corner of her bed, hugging her knees to her chest and crying into herself- her room was a mess, old photos from before she moved torn to shreds and her phone on the ground. The screen was shattered, it must have been what hit the wall.

"MC? Hey- sorry for barging in, but... what's wrong?" I ask softly, taking off my blue plaid jacket- putting it on the floor as I slowly approached the bed, her gaze snapping up to meet mine. Her eyes were wide, red and puffy- she had been crying for awhile that much was obvious. "Q-Qiu! Oh- uh-" she said, wiping harshly at her eyes- trying to hide the evidence despite being caught. "I'm fine! Just...saw a sad ad for an animal shelter! Yeah..." she lied through her teeth, avoiding eye contact as I sat on the edge of her bed carefully.

"We both know that's not true. MC...what's really wrong? You've been acting strangly for awhile, but this last week- you've been so closed off from both me and Tamarack. Did we do something wrong, or did someone say something to you?" I asked, ready to track down whoever would dare to hurt my MC- er my best friend. Yeah. Best friend. Her eyes widened drastically before she jumped forward towards me a bit, quickly shutting down one thing I had said. "No! No. You and Tama did nothing wrong I swear- I just...." she cut herself off with a sigh, visibly deflating.

Carefully I reached out, gently grabbing her forearm- rubbing small circles into the skin. She offered me a small smile in return- forced but genuine. "Lately I've been feeling...insecure? I think that's the word for it- but it's not just insecure y'know? Everything seems to be so dull now, I just- I feel so out of place. I mean- it's like I'm on auto pilot, my mind is so foggy..." she explained, tears gathering in the corners of her eyes again. "Foggy?" I asked softly, slowly pulling her closer to me to wrap her in a small hug.

She nodded and leaned into my chest gently- she appeared fragile, ready to shatter at the slightest gust of wind from the wrong direction. "Like I'm viewing myself from outside of my body...I don't know it's hard to explain." she said softly as I gently fiddled with her hair, hoping it'd help her calm down a bit. "I get it, thank you for telling me- but why'd you hide this from me, Leafy, and your mom?" I asked carefully, noticing she stiffened slightly.

"I didn't want to be a burden..." she said softly- had we not been this close, which totally wasn't making my heart pound, I wouldn't of heard her at all. I wasn't going to have that- nobody, not even her, could speak that way about my best friend. "Now you listen here and you listen good, okay? You will never be a burden to any of us MC. You're important to all of us. You're the sturdy bridge that holds me and Tamarack together, and you hold me together as well. Always keeping an eye out for others yet never keeping one out for yourself. You are one of the kindest, beautiful, and self-less people I know MC." I said quickly without thinking, making eye contact with her to ensure she was listening- making sure she knew I meant it to the ends of the earth.

Her cheeks seemed to brighten in a pink hue, eyes fluttering as she stammered for words. I give her a soft smile, pulling her into a proper hug. "You mean the world to me MC. Never let yourself forget that, but if you do? I'll just keep reminding you, over and over again." I whispered softly, holding her tightly to my chest so she couldn't see how red my face or ears had gotten. Though I doubt she didn't hear my heart racing.

She started to shake and shiver before the damn in her eyes finally burst, crying into my sweater- sobs coming from her as she finally let it all out. Softly I smiled, glad to see she was letting it out now- no longer hiding behind that sticky sweet smile she wore so well as I gently traced shapes into the back of her shirt.

"And about those insecurities of yours? I'm going to show you that those kinds of thoughts are so incorrect that they defy all known logic." I say softly, but trying to make her laugh even just a bit- I was successful as she giggled lightly through her choked sobs.

"Oh yeah? How exactly are you gonna do that Autumn?" she asked, looking up from my chest with a smug smile- cheeks still damp from tears. "Well- what are you insecure about?" I ask returning the smug smile full force as my heart fluttered at the use of my nickname. She took a moment before looking down at herself, puffing her lips out a bit with a pout. "My looks mainly...I mean- you and Tama are so pretty and then there's just me. Average MC." she degraded herself- pinching and pulling at her skin. I grab her hand to stop her from contiuing to do so.

"Average?" I started with a chuckle, deciding to focus on being called pretty by my crush later. "MC you are far better than average! You may not see it but I do. Your eyes are so gentle yet whenever you are standing up for Tamarack or settling an arguement- the look of determination gives them this shine I swear the stars wish they could replicate it. And don't get me started on your hair! It's always so pretty! Even when it's a mess because of the humidity of spring or tangled because you just woke up- even then it's so soft and compliments your complextion as well as your stunning eyes!" I rambled, letting out every single detail I've noticed about them- it was natural.

(𝚃𝚑𝚒𝚛𝚍 𝙿𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚘𝚗)

Qiu continued to go down the list- naming the smallest things about MC and explaining why every part of them was the prettiest thing he'd ever seen. They didn't even notice how long they'd been rambling until they heard a small embarassed whimper come from the very female he was praising for earnestly. That's when he saw just how red her face was and their's quickly began to glow an even brighter red. Both incredibly flustered for what Qiu had so shamelessly spewed on about- as if MC was a hyperfixation he just couldn't look away from.

From outside the door, Opal stood and watched the two fumble about- embarassed. She smiled softly, glad that her daughter was feeling better with Autumn's help- and proud of the selection of friends MC had made four years ago when they first moved here. Quietly she retreated to the kitchen, deciding to make something sweet both teens would enjoy to snack on after such an emotionally taxing day.

𝚆𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝙲𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝: 1,678

[eemcintyre]

Repaying the Favor (Tom Cruise)

TW: discussion of blood/periods, one mention of throwing up.

Summary: Tom comes home one afternoon to find you in a great deal of pain because ~it's that time of the month amirite ladies~, and he does what he can to try and make things better, despite you insisting that you can handle it.

I myself have been on my period, so I have been nothing but angry, depressed, and h-word (more than usual I mean 🙃🔥) and this is what happened. So it was productive, at least, I guess?

After a hectic morning of back-to-back appointments, Tom was returning to the apartment he and Y/N shared. He was hoping to not only grab a brief lunch, but also some quality time with Y/N before heading back out for the second half of his work for the day.

Unlocking the door and crossing the threshold into the main living room/kitchen area, he was surprised at how quiet the apartment was. Scanning his surroundings for Y/N, she was not to be found, so he proceeded to check the bedroom, calling out “Sweetheart, it’s me, I’m home.” He was met at first with silence, which concerned him, but before he could panic about her being mysteriously gone, he heard a muffled groan. However, upon reaching the bedroom, he still couldn’t see her anywhere.

“Y/N? Are you alright? Where are you? What’s going on?” He darted across the room until he spotted her lying on the floor by the side of the bed. She was lying on her stomach, twisted in a position that looked odd and uncomfortable with one leg bent toward her midsection and the other straight out. Tom breathed a sigh of relief, ruffling a hand through his hair.

“Don’t do that to me, honey- I thought you’d been taken,” he laughed nervously at the movie reference, noticing that she was also clutching her stomach and had several heating pads draped across her body.

“I-I’m sorry, I- ow, ow, ow…” Y/N struggled to explain herself as several intense pains stabbed in her midsection. “It’s, I just…”

“When did it start?” Tom asked, quickly realizing what the problem was. He crouched down to where she was splayed out, gently placing a hand on her back. Y/N furrowed her brows, this time in confusion instead of discomfort.

“How did you…?”

“I grew up with three sisters, remember?” he chuckled. She covered her face with her hands in embarrassment over the whole situation, but he pulled them away with his hand that wasn’t comfortingly stroking her back. “Hey, don’t worry, I'm not one of those guys who thinks periods are gross. It's just blood. I really don't care. If you stick me with something sharp, blood's gonna come out." He paused, recalling an incident from a while back. “Like that time I knifed my hand really bad trying to make stir fry.” Y/N managed a quiet giggle. “I practically bled all over you, but you just rolled with it and didn’t freak out, and you got me all fixed up.” He smiled while reflecting on that eventful memory.

“C’mon, why didn’t you tell me?” he pressed as Y/N attempted to roll over into a new position, the old one no longer comfortable as new pains began to spring up.

“It’s just humiliating, it shouldn’t be such a big deal, and you’re so busy, and I ruined the sheets…”

“Ok, ok, hold on,” Tom interjected, lacing a hand into one of hers. “It’s nothing to be ashamed of; let’s get that straight. And I can wash the sheets; that’s not a problem.”

“No, I’ll take care of it; it’s not necessary-” Y/N, who had been trying to sit up, was cut off as she doubled back over in pain. Tom threw an arm around her shoulders.

“And as for me being ‘too busy’, I’m not going anywhere, angel. Not when you’re too sick to sit up. I don’t have anything going on the rest of the day that can’t wait.” He had made his mind up and could not be moved by any of her continued pleas that she was fine and could manage by herself.

After fetching her a dose of painkillers and reheating the lukewarm heat pads, he delicately scooped her off the floor, transferring them both to the nearby bed. He settled her on his lap while he rested his back against the headboard. She was curled up in such a way that her head was nestled in his neck and chest, and he could reach an arm around to knead her stomach.

Once the painkillers started to kick in, he felt comfortable enough to run out of the apartment to grab her a few things. Y/N insisted that he had done enough, to which he replied, “If you don’t tell me what you want, I’ll just have to guess.” He slipped into his leather jacket, making sure his wallet was still in the pocket.

“Do I also have to remind you of the time I was out of commission sick for almost a week? You practically waited on me; you cooked everything, you sang to me, you sat with me while I was throwing up-“

“Oh no, please don’t talk about throwing up,” Y/N implored, already nauseous from the consistently intense stomach pain.

“Oops, sorry,” he winced.

She begrudgingly requested her favorite hot tea and that he rent the new movie she had been wanting to see, blushing and trying not to smile.

“Yes, ma’am. Now, call me if you need anything; I shouldn’t be very long.”

He gave her a peck on the forehead and a peck on the lips before leaving on his quest, and Y/N replied, “You know you’re the best, right?”