#i should have my laptop/internet back too in the evening

[non-un-topo]

On today's agenda: Preparing for a long commute and class without a break tonight while my back is already causing me 7/10 pain.

[alicerosejensen]

Heyyyy hope you’re doing well!!

Please can you imagine Leon (re6) loosing his shit because they kidnapped his girlfriend and he’s like trying everything to get her back? Imagine him crying as soon as he gets to hug her again!😭

I'm fine as long as I have a laptop connected to the internet and food)

In fact, this is one of my favorite plot tropes, when someone is kidnapped, and the main character is ready to burn the whole world to the ground, but to find an expensive person.

Leon, despite his moral principles, I think he could have made many sacrifices. In particular, he would definitely lose his temper if he grabbed onto any thread to find his beloved. At least he didn't stand on ceremony with Patrizio.

Thus, there will be little left of the scoundrel who kidnapped his girlfriend.

Something constantly happens to the poor girl of Leon (either she runs away from him, or she is stolen from him). Sorry, I just love their relationship and Leon, who is ready to kill for his loved ones :D

I still know shit English, but enjoy it if you're interested.

Please read with extreme caution! There are mentions of physical violence, kidnapping and a maniac!Yandere

Leon is a little paranoid when it comes to protecting his loved ones, so most likely he will insert some tracking device into your phone or earrings to be sure that his beloved is safe.

He tries not to violate personal boundaries, but understands that his beloved is in potential danger in relation to him. Therefore, you are under additional invisible protection.

All you need to know is that Leon is not abusing his position as a federal agent. There is no surveillance on you, it's just that if something happens, he wants to have time to prevent it before the irreparable happens (or he goes on a binge again).

His heart sinks at the thought that he may lose you for some reason. Any encroachment into your personal space by outsiders who create discomfort for you make Leon enter the defender mode (aggressive if necessary). You should be safe.

Since Leon is known to a minimum of people about Leon's love interest, the risk is minimal that you will be harmed. At least Leon considered the threat from various corporations and bioterrorists. He didn't even think about the fact that there is some bastard stealing your things.

It was some little things: pencils, hair bands, a pocket mirror, lip gloss. Yes, you said something to him about it, but maybe you just dropped them out of your backpack?

He was calm exactly until you became too nervous. It seemed that you were afraid of something and called him a couple of times with a request to meet on the way home. Leon is not one of those who will refuse, but your behavior worries him.

And when you were walking home, Leon felt your painful grip on his arm.

His main priority is your well-being. "So tell me, pretty girl, what's going on with you?" Don't think I haven't noticed this nervousness.

He will be wary when he hears that someone is following you and dragging your things. Of course you could have lost them yourself, but the chiffon scarf that Leon gave you was the last straw. In addition, you showed him the abnormal love notes that someone constantly threw into your purse.

Outwardly, it did not affect him in any way, but the stingy "I'll deal with it" means a lot. The anxiety level has increased and Leon is worried that some kind of psycho might hurt you.

He often calls and asks if everything is in order and when you need to be picked up from college. However, when you don't answer the phone, everything dies inside him.

The moment he realizes that you have been taken away, a monster wakes up in him, which can bring down hell on your abductor.

His emotional state constantly fluctuates from constant fear for your lives bordering on panic to Ustanak whose task is to find you and finish off the son of a bitch who dared to take you away from him.

"No god will help this son of a bitch when I find him."

It's sad that you lost your phone on the day of the abduction and did not put on earrings. But a nice little bracelet will save you.

are a fucking goddess.

When you wake up, of course, you will be scared. However, you will try to intimidate the criminal by saying that he is so obsessed with you in vain. "Seriously, my boyfriend will come after me and gut you" You don't think Leon will kill anyone at all, so maybe your words don't sound too confident when the kidnapper's hand is stroking your head.

Do you panic when a fucking psycho says it's some kind of date? No one here hears your screams, you can't run away because you're handcuffed. You can't even go to the toilet on your own only under his control, and this causes you a deep psychological trauma. He brings you a fucking lilac, weaving thin twigs into your hair.

"Why me?" - This is the only question that is spinning in your head when you are hysterically pulling out purple flowers, throwing them away from you. - "Am I going to die here?"

You literally go crazy from the smell of dampness and lilac. Constantly shout Leon's name as if he can hear you and immediately breaking into a loud cry, banging on the walls and the locked door.

You're clearly getting claustrophobic.

While you're suffering, Leon is trying to track the fucking signal on one of your trinkets, but he's afraid that you left that day without any jewelry at all.

Claire is definitely one of those people who can talk some sense into Leon while he's looking for you. Considering that the bug gives a bad signal (or maybe your bracelet was damaged due to the fact that you constantly pull it from nerves) from the basement and your location is difficult to track, Leon has already yelled at Chris

You feel like a frog in formalin or even some kind of toy when your abductor brings you clean clothes, which you throw back to him. It's risky to make him angry like that and you really regret it when brute force is used to force you to change clothes.

Yes, then they "take care" of you, but you are already a cornered mouse. The purple marks on your skin and the marks from the handcuffs are now a reminder of who is in charge here.

And you hate that bastard more and more. Unfortunately, you have absolutely nothing to even hit him with. The food that he brings you in plastic dishes, as well as cutlery. You try not to eat, fearing that he might have mixed something in there, but you are forced by force.

It's been three days, and Leon hasn't found you. You feel like you're starting to go crazy until you hear a muffled noise from somewhere above.

All your belongings (including the bracelet) were seized and probably thrown away, leaving you in one long T-shirt, the smell that causes you to have a gag reflex. You literally have nothing on but this rag and underpants

All your belongings (including the bracelet) were seized and probably thrown away, leaving you in one long T-shirt, the smell that causes you to have a gag reflex. You literally have nothing on but this rag and underpants

Has anyone ever told you that you are not the luckiest person?

You tried to attack from behind when they stopped stroking you. It was risky and you failed because the kidnapper reacted before you swung to strike.

You were very painfully punished, left lying on the damp floor in a terrible state, all in tears and without an evening meal.

It's been four terrible days in your life. All because you fiddled with your bracelet too much, which turned out to be thrown away quite far from the place where you were, forcing Leon to go on a false trail.

You felt terrible. It didn't take long to break you. You no longer hoped to see daylight or your loved ones, so you crawled into the farthest corner curled up in a ball and cried.

Having lost track of time due to another fit of hysteria, you did not want to pay attention to the opening door and hurried steps in your direction.

Preferring not to pay attention to your enemy, you became even more hysterical when he tried to turn you around to face him, affectionately calling you "angel".

That's what infuriated you. But when you opened your eyes in another attempt to attack, you froze in disbelief at your own eyes. Have you already gone crazy in this place? So fast, or was Leon really in front of you?

His light blue eyes were dark. Not as bright as usual, but maybe it's because of the lighting… Strong hands carefully examined your body for the number of bruises.

You looked away in the direction of the open door - your freedom, but you felt Leon's fingers gently tracing over your split lips.

You've never seen such quiet hatred before. You were shivering from the cold, feeling that tears were still flowing down your cheeks, and tried to snuggle up to Leon in search of protection and warmth.

But Leon himself pressed you to him, slightly lifting up his T-shirt, checking for underwear. You flinched, and then you heard a single question when you grabbed his back with both hands, pressing your head against his chest.

"That son of a bitch…" - Leon gritted his teeth, still looking at your stolen things on the floor. - "I'll kill him"

The fuse clicked.

Leon took off his jacket, putting it on you (with great difficulty, because you did not want to interrupt close contact with him), and then easily picked up in his arms, like a small child, carrying out of this basement. You closed your eyes just to not see anything else. Leon's scent worked better than any strong sedative, and you wanted him not to let you go anymore.

So small. Defenseless. Bruised all over. He will kiss you on the temple, looking at the sprawled bastard with such a look that it will be clear how it will end. Leon will hand you over to Claire, despite your growing hysteria over the loss of hugs, and do what he has planned.

It's going to be pretty bloody. He expressed some regret about Patricio, but Leon will never forgive someone who hurt you, leaving a scar on your soul. So he'll empty the whole clip on him.

Because of this, he will have some problems, but you are the priority. You will undergo a full examination at the hospital, where Leon will be reassured (partially) that your violence ended with beatings. In general, there are no physical injuries, but both Leon and Claire understand what condition you will be in.

He will take care of you. Try to do everything so that you don't remember that four-day nightmare. He will find a good therapist, but if your brain decided to erase these memories on its own, a kind of protective reaction to stress, then it will even calm him down.

Leon understands the reason for your detached behavior. He is glad that you are not afraid to let him near you, thereby subconsciously making him your shield. he's ready to be one before you start trusting people again.

No one heard it, but Leon was really crying quietly when it was over. You were sleeping after taking a sedative dose, and he was sitting in the bathtub thinking only that he could not save you faster.

He won't touch you once again for fear of triggering some kind of trigger, but in your head it is Leon the hero savior. Therefore, if you are looking for protection in him, then it's even good, because this is how he hopes to redeem himself before you.

In the end, you are faced with dissociative amnesia. You realize that something terrible has happened, but you have a lapse in memory. Leon will be the one who will start distracting you from your memories by persuading you not to remember. He really considers it a gift of fate and will go out of his way so that you don't touch this moment of life at all, leaving him behind a black curtain.

And yet one day he burst into tears clutching to his chest. While you sleep next to him feeling completely safe, Leon will need to hug you tightly and come up with better ways to protect you. He feels guilty that he did not save you and this feeling of guilt will gnaw at him for a long time.

"I'm sorry… sweetheart, I'm so sorry… - what you hear in your sleep. - "Never again…no one will hurt you. Never."You don't remember a damn thing, but you're scared because Leon is crying kissing the top of your head.

He won't let anyone else take you away.

[milkzoro]

need to redecorate

summary: y/n and trafalgar law are in a new relationship, but haven’t met irl yet.

cw: MDNI, smut, law being a creep, spit, slight dom!law, p in v fucking, edging

☆彡

~

he wonders how he was able to bag a girl like you. your supple skin, thick ass and thighs. he was obsessed with the way that you’re always wearing mini skirts that are just a tad too small. he love the pudge of your stomach that puffs so softly out of the hem line.

he’s here again, back at this overpriced indie coffee shop. he knows your exact order and the approximate time frame of your arrival. he is waiting for you. not to pick you up or grab a coffee with you. but to get more images for his collection.

she was so perfect ‘n bubbly he thought, needed to capture her in every moment. when you’re grocery shopping, picking up meds, soaking up some sun while you’re in your backyard. he even has some tasteful shots of you undressing.

he finally notices you leaving the coffee shop with your cup in hand and hips swaying softly.

he has a drone. he would never bring his camera out like this, not where people could see him being a freak. his best shots always came from his camera though. the harder to get the sweeter the treat he thought. but with you just running errands, this would have to do. he’s lucky to have found one small enough to just slip past your mind and not notice it.

he glides the flying camera in your direction, lining up the angles perfectly. “my angel, such ‘n airhead. how have you not found me out yet.” he sighs and takes multiple shots of your body. he absolutely cannot not wait for these photos to develop, you looked delicious.

~

he is now hanging up his prizes from the day onto his wall. carefully placing each one with a few command strips, he could never damage his works of art with a stupid tack. ugh the thought of that disgusts him. law thinks he is a famous photographer. his works should be hung up in a museum (his bedroom).

he was especially excited for tonight though. such a cute and sweet event. tonight he’d get to watch a movie with you and it was also your one month anniversary. getting to see your face on his monitor would make his day. you always looked so innocently beautiful in the setting of your pretty room. sitting there listening to him speak with your dolly eyes.

it never felt weird being in a relationship with you considering you’ve never met in person. it’s been mentioned, but somehow one of you is always unavailable. one month isn’t even that long, he thought. i’ll be ready soon, i just uhh need to ‘redecorate.’

~

“happy one month anniversary babiee!!!” you sang on the other line. oh how you looked so stunning for him. silk cami resting pretty on your neckline and no bra. you felt so cheeky. seeing the attractive man on the other side sent butterflies to your tummy. his dark features cascading in his dark room. truthfully, kinda eery but ohhh so sexy.

his face warmed up at the sight of you. smiling warmly. his golden eyes picking up beautifully in the screen of your small laptop. “y/a ya~. happy anniversary,,,, ~pookie~.” he giggles at that last part. he’s definitely picking up some your language even if he denies that he isn’t.

after assessing our options. law agreed to your suggestion. we were going to watch {MOVIE}. law had everything all set up and had the movie on pause. “you have your snacks baby?” his voice was getting crunchy in the speakers of your old computer. stupid internet. you hummed and cuddled up with your blankets waiting for him to press play.

~

“babe.”

… he didn’t hear you.

“baby.”

“hmm?” his confused little face popped into frame. “yn ya~ what’s wrong?”

you sighed whilst sitting up, meticulously propping up on your tits so he could see you better. “the movies’ so blurry. can’t i just come over~”

law could hear you loud and clear. ‘come over?’ he thought. fuck what was he going to do. he’d love nothing more than for you to come lay with him and ‘watch’ movies. there’s just a small problem, his shrines. it’s about time you two get together, he just needed to be careful.

quick calculations and possible solutions are racing through his mind. uhhh she lives about twenty ish minutes from my place,,, i think i can do something.

he hesitated before speaking, “uhhm y- yea let me send you my address.” him actually agreeing made you so happy! you finally got to see you cute boyfriend! and on our anniversary too, what a treat! cartoony hearts were practically spinning around your head.

“oh okay!! i’m just gonna grab my things ‘n i’ll come over” you blew law a quick kissy through your camera and shut off your monitor. you were so excited.

“shit- twenty minutes to ‘redecorate’, i can do this.” law is panicking.

~

your bag’s keychains jingled against your body as you made your way up to his door, wrist immediately knocking agains the wood. a few moments pass as you anticipate his presence.

when you saw him standing there in front of you you were in awe. his skin glowing under the moonlight, he looked so perfect. was he sweating?

“y/a ya~” his voice is dripping with honey. it made you feel numb. he leaned down to kiss your lips. slender fingers coming to hold you cheek. your lips met his, his taste making you feel intoxicated.

“happy anniversary pretty~ let’s get inside” he reaches for you hand and you can’t help but notice how clammy they are. awe was he nervous? teehehe such a cutie.

~

movie long forgotten, law had you pinned beneath him. eyes assaulting every inch in your body. his thin fingers moving themselves to push on the plush of your inner thighs. “you’re so soft baby~” his fingers were toying with the seams of your panties. “‘nd soo wet already huh?” his eyes flicker to your own.

“shhhiiit ahh~ mhm yes laww” you whine out, dying for a taste. seeing pictures is nowhere near comparable to the real thing. you can already see his dick in his jeans and can’t help but arch your back at your imagination.

“want to feel me baby? let me take good care of you.” he sees your eager nodding and slips you out of your your soaking panties. his fingers are fumbling as he is trying to lower his boxers and unzip his jeans. “god yes law pleaSE.” two of his fingers slip past your fold with ease. noticing your arousal he swirls his digits around, collecting your juices. fuck your so slick, he wraps his fist around his thick cock to spread your liquid. he hisses at the relief.

“gonna fuck you good doll, just say my name for me, okay?” he whines as he gets to push just a little bit past his tip “shhhiiiitttt.”

“law please baby .. haahh~ more hmm.”

you can’t help but moan at his painfully slow movements. you can see it in his face too, the way his eyes are squeezed shut, it’s easy to tell that he wants to move too, but fucking you slowww is driving the both of you insane. his rhythm is picking up causing you to drool and mutter nonsense.

he puts a finger on your mouth pressing down firm against the pad of your tounge then moves to get in between your teeth. he’s adding one more digit to your mouth before using them to try and spread your mouth.

“open your mouth yn ya~” his eyes are lust filled as you see him start to collect spit in his own. he is fucking you faster now and with each thrust and shake, you’re eager to open your mouth for him. wanting to accept any liquid he has to offer.

“such a filthy girl y/a.” he missed, just a little. his fingers come up to rub some of the saliva away. you swallowed the remaining liquid and beg for him to go deeper. “fuck y/n you want it that bad huh, haaah~ tell me,, who’s pussy ‘s this?” his hand come to lay on your neck, squeezing tightly on both sides of your windpipe. he is struggling to hear you and pulls his dick out. “speak baby~”

feeling his length suddenly go missing from your cunt has you in tears. you were so close and full, now nothing. “law fuckk baby i was gonna cu-” he cuts you off and squeezes on your neck harder. “i said whos fuckin pussy ‘s this?”

white spots are forming in the corners of your vision, too close to your orgasm to black out now so you fight to speak back to him. “ahh, it’s ‘s yours law!! fuck- only yourss~” his grip on you looses ever so slightly but still keeps his hand there.

his lips curl into a smirk as he lines you up again. his heat filling you just right, and hearing his breathy whimpers were just enough to get you there. “such a good girl for me fuckk taking me so well baby i feel you suckin me in haahh-”

his dick so perfect for your hole, leaking soo much for him. cleanching down hard, you are ready for release. “law~ fuck s-so close, please uSE ME!” he lifts your knees to hit your most sensitive spot harder. his hips working against your aching body recklessly. you could tell he was close.

“shiit just just like tha baby,, right- ahh right fuckING THERE AHHH KEEP- keep goiNG♡” you walls are contracting hard on his cock almost milking him. your legs are shaking violently as you feel your orgasm start to take control of your whole body. hearing his moans has you squirting around him.

“fuck baby where do you want me to cum?”

comeing down from your high you manage to respond to him. “come on my tits.” you pull your shirt up slightly so he could decorate your pretty breasts with his semen.

he thinks your such a dirty girl and he’s obsessed with it. he pulled his thick, dripping cock from your hole and tightly squeezed around his creamy base. fuck he looked soo good like this, you could practically see his eyes rolling back as he fucking his fist above you. glimmers of sweat beaded on his forehead has him looking so angelic, it’s making your tummy do flips again. a gasp leaves his lips as he shoots his hot load across your breasts and swollen nipples. his breaths sending shockwaves to your aching cunt. he falls down close to you and kisses your forehead.

“happy one month y/n ya~”

~

after suddenly waking up, you notice a rough edge scratching your arm. reaching in between his mattress and the box spring, you pull on the foreign object and discover it’s a loose photo. oh it’s you. you giggle. you find him so endearing and obsessive…

unfortunately for him it was a blurry one, but you had an idea. while law was asleep, fucked out, you decided to gift him something better. his polaroid was placed on his desk so you had a mini photo shoot. you took only a few, one of your tits, still somewhat crusted with his cum. and a couple of your thighs and ass. and the final touch being a lipstick kiss stain in the corner of each one. you placed the camera back in its spot and tucked away your custom pieces of art with his other photographs. he will find them eventually. teheheh you’re welcome my love xx

*& we sleep again zzz*

an: y/n is a freak

[teencopandthesourwolf]

“Here!”

Stiles slams something down on the coffee table to the left of Derek's (Stiles's) laptop.

Derek is searching online, only a little psychotically, in the hope of finding a store that sells these very specific organic coffee beans he tried in a hipster coffee house recently. Derek isn't a hipster—he isn't—he just likes nice coffee, is all. Really, he should have asked the barista to find out not just the brand name but their supplier's address too because this is driving him insane. Maybe he is insane? More likely just incredibly shit at the internet, but he thinks he'd prefer to plead insanity if challenged.

Derek unknits his eyebrows and looks down at… a green thing. It's sort of feather shaped and has many spindles with bronzed edges.

It's a leaf.

His eyebrows knit themselves back together as he blinks down at the thing a couple of times.

“It's a leaf,” he says, because he doesn't know what else he's supposed to say.

Then he looks up—and back and forth at Stiles who is now pacing the apartment and alternating between clicking his fingers and flicking his thumbs and shaking his arms out at the sides of his body; his stimming can get pretty extra when he's anxious.

Derek's frown deepens with immediate concern. He must've really been deep in it with the infuriating Google searching to not have noticed the smell of Stiles's distress when his mate first arrived home.

“Hey, what's—”

“Yes, Derek, it's a leaf. It is a leaf that I brought all the way home. For you. From the cemetery.”

He's still pacing.

“Okay, well do you want to tell me—“

“It's an Apology Leaf. Obviously.”

Obviously.

“And, Derek, do not laugh, because—"

“I won't but could you just—“

“—this isn't funny. I'm ridiculous, I know, and I know that that's funny. But this? This is decidedly deeply unfunny, alright? This is totally not at all funny, Derek. It's like, a thing without one tiny ounce of humour in it, as in not the slightest bit funny in a gazillion sombre years. Do you hear me?” He inhales deeply, holds the breath, then blows it out harshly via puffed-out cheeks as he clicks and flails some more.

Derek hears Stiles and is of course prepared to wait for him to explain whatever this is, because Derek would wait for Stiles until the end of time, if he had to. Although that's not likely a thing to happen in any reality as this is Stiles who can't go for longer than fifteen seconds without talking. But still, Derek thinks it's the sentiment that counts. 

“You, Derek Hale, are good, and someone as good as you deserves somebody far, far better than a ratbag like me. Hence the leaf,” Stiles now tells him in a rush of even more confusing words, his chemo-signals tinged with shame for some worrying reason Derek is yet to discern.

Stiles glances over anxiously from his place of animated, mysterious penance—and then looks away again just as quickly while still trying to wear footprints into the recently painted varnish on the wooden floor of their new apartment.

Derek is clueless as to the cause of Stiles's meltdown, but neither things are a first. Stiles struggles sometimes—just like Derek does, who has plenty of his own outbursts (albeit more moody than vocal) that Stiles has to Private Dick his way through.

Derek is also trying his best not to worry too much about thinking that this is somehow his fault, so now sets his mind on attempting to marry these seemingly unrelated things in his head.

He thinks about the facts he's been presented with:

What is, at an educated guess, a Pacific Yew leaf.

and

Stiles's rather unhinged and self-deprecating dig at himself-slash-compliment for Derek.

...Yeah, no, he's not getting better at this game any time soon. 

“Uh,” he says helpfully, and Stiles rolls his eyes in that Do I really have to do everything myself around here? way of his which, rude.

Good job Derek loves the kook.

“It was just sitting there, on top of my mom's gravestone when I got there,” Stiles says quietly, incredulously, gesturing at the innocuous leaf.

Then he's off again with the pacing.

“And I knew, straight away, I knew,” he says, getting louder again and laughing in this accusatory sort of way, pointing somewhere into the ether, eyes manic.

Derek scratches his nose. He hopes he will soon know, too, because honestly, he's kind of blindfolded in the dark here.

“She was obviously telling me what a dipshit I was! What a douche I am! A massive ass-hat! Total loser!”

“I mean, that's mostly fair, but maybe total loser is a little strong.” Derek will often speak Stiles's language when Stiles is freaking out, using humour to try and ground him. 

Stiles carries on as if Derek hadn’t said anything.

“And I was like, Come on, mom, give me a break, will you? and she was like Seriously, Mischief? You really wouldn't let the special person in your life, your special little guy—”

“You can just say boyfriend, Stiles.”

“—come with you to the cemetery to visit me? Like, as if with that leaf she was reminding me that you are the one person who actually gets this shit, which, I do know. Of fucking course I know. And then—get this—I swear to God, Derek, I felt her literally slapping me upside the head! No fucking word of a lie, man. Like, thousands wouldn't believe me. Millions. They'd say that it must have been the wind or my incredibly vivid imagination. But I know, Der. I know that it was her,” Stiles continues with the confession without stopping for breath.

Derek has thought it before and he'll think it again: the kid's lung capacity is seriously impressive.

“And I also know that I totally should've said yes when you asked me if I wanted you to come with me to the cemetery this morning. Because the thing is, I did want you to. I really, really did. But I just… I just…”

Stiles starts slapping himself on the forehead with both his hands and Derek has had enough of that already. He gets up off the sofa and walks over to Stiles, catching those slim wrists in his grip, gentle yet firm.

“Please don't,” Derek says, imploring Stiles to stop. Derek can understand frustration, but can't stand Stiles hurting himself.

Stiles deflates a little. He then takes a step towards Derek and leans in, resting his forehead against Derek's, their noses lining up like penguins.

“I just—I should have said yes to you when you asked because I honestly, truthfully wanted you there. It's just that I've only ever been there with my Dad. And even then, not as many times as you might think. Not even Scotty has been there with me. It's just a place—it's usually something I do alone. You know?” Stiles' front teeth worry at his pretty lip. 

And yes, Derek does know.

So he says, “Because you feel guilt, right? Even though there isn't a thing in this universe or any other that you should feel guilty about.”

Guilt just for being alive. 

Slightly cross-eyed with the proximity and angle, Stiles looks at Derek in a way that says he knows just how much Derek knows about this stuff.

“Yeah. Yes, exactly. And I guess I didn't know how to be that with somebody else around.”

“But Stiles, that's completely—”

“No, Der. It isn't, actually. Because you're not just somebody else. It's you. And I'm in love with you.” Stiles finally takes a breath while Derek's heart is busy swelling to twice it's size. He will never tire of hearing Stiles Stilinski say those words to him. “And I absolutely should've trusted in that. In us.”

It is, of course, completely fine that Stiles went to the cemetery alone to visit his mother, but Derek also gets where the kid is coming from. He too takes a breath, now, a big one, because this kind of stuff doesn't come as easily for him as it does Stiles.

He swallows his nerves and pushes on.

“I love you, Stiles. And it's alright that we're not perfect. Neither of us are. Us—you and me—we're both just… Finding our way.”

After a moment, Stiles adds, “Together.”

They smile at each other like huge dorks.

“Yeah.” Derek breathes, and his heart might just burst.

Derek scents Stiles, and Stiles breathes deeply too, now. “Thanks,” he says, then Derek kisses him, just as deep and for a long while, because it's his favourite thing to do in the whole damn world.

Eventually Derek pulls back, runs a thumb over Stiles's mouth and says, “You know what?”

Stiles's brow lifts inquisitively.

Derek lets go of Stiles's wrist and takes his hand instead, leading him back to the sofa and sitting them both down squarely by the coffee table where he had been sat fruitlessly Googling not so long ago.

“I believe you,” Derek says.

Stiles frowns. “Huh?” It's his turn to be confused.

“Millions wouldn't, but I believe you, Stiles. About your mom.”

He reaches across and picks up the Apology Leaf, cradling it for a brief moment in his palm before nudging at Stiles's hand and urging him to take it, which he does.

Derek then grabs the laptop, side-eyeing his previous Google search—WHO NEAR ME SELLS PHOENIX ROAST ORGANIC COFFEE BEANS THAT TASTE LIKE HOME—and forcing himself not to get instantly sucked back into that particularly vexing nightmare, while also trying his best to angle the screen away from Stiles who, if he saw, would fall off the sofa laughing at Derek's admittedly pathetic research skills.

Not everybody is a… Technophile? Cyberpunk? Derek has no fucking clue about any of this shit.

With Stiles now passing comment on the aesthetic qualities of the Apology Leaf, Derek uses both index fingers to tap out the words of the thing he wants to look up, taking no notice of Stiles who is trying his annoying not-very-best to smirk at Derek's sorry efforts in Derek's periphery. Clicking through a few different links, this time Derek manages to find what he's after without any trouble, amazingly. He then hands the laptop over to Stiles, who carefully places the leaf down on the arm of the sofa beside him before fully taking the computer from Derek. 

Stiles purses those pretty lips of his as he scans the information on screen, squinting a little.

“Uh, well yeah. It's like you said, Der; It's a leaf. From a Yew, according to this.”

Derek rolls his eyes. “Your mother's ghost is infinitely more clever than you.” Stiles's squint deepens further. “Stiles, she is absolutely spot on about this. Just—scroll down the page a bit, dumbass,” and he ducks his head and smiles, seeing as accusing Stiles of Internet-related Dumbassery is really fucking funny because, irony. 

Stiles tuts but does as he's told.

Derek gives him a minute to read the passage on the website he found. It says:

The Yew tree can live for many, many years. It has deep connections with magic and the universe. It was regarded as the protector of the soul by the ancient Greeks. You’ll find this tree planted at many burial sites throughout the world as it’s recognized as a guardian of the dead.

It is believed that Odin (from the Nordic legend) hung himself from the Yew for nine days and nights. It’s symbolic of its everlasting and regenerative properties and is often associated with transformation and change after a difficult time. The Celtic tradition honours the Yew tree for symbolising death and rebirth.

Stiles is smiling this gorgeous, open smile by the time he's finished reading, and Derek makes an unrealistic wish to be able to keep it there forever.

“So, you were right,” Derek says, “when you said that she knew. You were just a little mixed up about what, is all.” Derek takes another deep breath. “What your mom knows is that you got the chance to begin again, Stiles. After all the shit we went through, you actually got to start over. With somebody who will absolutely protect your soul with their life.”

Stiles suddenly blinks furiously, like somebody just threw salt in his eyes.

“And you knew it, that she knew... something,” Derek smiles back, lovingly, before that smile turns a little wry. “It's just that you were kind of—now, how should I put this…?”

“No. Do not do it!” Stiles shouts—instantly catching on because he'd easily be the brightest bulb in any box—and he's pointing again, at Derek this time. “Puns are my stupid thing, you charlatan, and I can and will sue!” he warns, outraged yet smiling again as he wipes at his eyes with the sleeve of his shirt.

“—barking up the wrong tree,” Derek finishes, his smile now positively wolfish.

Stiles shakes his head and narrows his eyes, but he's chuckling, too as he says, “You do remember that it's you who's the canine in this relationship, right, 'wolf? If anybody's going to be making barking sounds, it's you.”

“Speciesist,” Derek quips.

Stiles pokes his tongue out. Then he's quiet for a few seconds (but definitely no more than fifteen).

“You know, I really was wrong when I said you deserve better than me. We actually absolutely deserve each other, Hale. Because it turns out we are both humongous assholes.”

After a moment, Derek grins more.

“Well, I would have answered that with I love my asshole, but you had to go and use the word humongous, and there's no way I would say that about my asshole—even though I would have technically been talking about you when I said it, seeing as it's actually you that is my favourite asshole.” And he pulls a rare, goofy face, just for Stiles, who laps it up. “Also, thinking about it, I would also have to say that loving my actual asshole is, in fact," he points at Stiles, “your job.” 

Stiles dramatically slaps a hand over Derek's mouth.

“Oh my God, Derek, stop! My ghostly mother could be listening in to us right now! Jeez, dude, have a little decorum, won't you?!” And if Stiles saying that isn't ironic, Derek really doesn’t know what is.

“Sorry, mom!” 

Grinning even more, Derek pushes Stiles's hand away from his face.

“Hey, wanna know the coolest thing?” he asks.

“Why in the name of anything sacred did you bother posing that as a question, Der? Like, when would I ever say no to that?”

Derek leans over and kisses Stiles again, soft and languid this time. The boy's lips are dry and warm and he tastes just like autumn.

Stiles hums and smiles into Derek's mouth as if he really, truly does love Derek. 

After another glorious moment, Derek pulls back, looks at Stiles and says, “Yew trees aren't even native to this part of California.”

.

for @greyhavenisback my beloved <3 sorry i'm a dipshit, douche, massive ass-hat and a total loser, sometimes xp

(i got the info on tree symbolism HERE btw)

[writers-potion]

Idk how to word this properly , I’m writing a book that is like a lesbian scream (the movie) fanfiction, the main character shares a lot of conversations via text to friends and the anonymous ghost face, how do I make the text conversations sound interesting without going back forth typing “she said “ , “they said” or is that something that would be okay to do in this type of setting

(This is my first time writing ANYTHING bigger than a couple paragraphs)

Writing Text Conversations

Hmm I do not know about the movie you’ve mentioned, so I’ll focus more on writing via-text conversations in this post!

Formatting Texts

How you choose to make your text messages stand out will depend on:

How often you use it 

How long these text conversations are going to be. 

If text conversations are short and happen only sparingly, use less intrusive methods, including:

Using [Character Name + colons] instead of “said”

Using Italics and bold for character names

Incorporating it into sentences, i.e. Judy picked up her phone and texted back, “How are you?”

When text conversations are lengthy/primary mode of communication:

Use more intrusive formatting methods

Use [Username + Colon] rather than actual names

Left-aligning Character A’s texts and right-aligning Character B’s text 

Using [tab] and [double tab] to express replies 

Using different fonts and font size 

Using [Character Name + 00:00 (time sent)]

Use Internet/Text Slang Carefully 

For younger/more Internet-savvy characters, make use of shortened words, emojis and slang. 

However, for longer texts, use proper grammar. It’s tiring to read Internet slang constantly. 

Have one character use more slang than the other to characterize their “text voice” 

Use typos sparingly. Readers don’t like being slowed down with misspelled words, even if they’re intentional. 

Generally, emails (even casual ones) should be less funky

Making the Transition/Flow Smooth

Switching to via-text conversation is not too different from starting typical dialogue. Use transition actions like:

Character’s phones pinging 

Character picking up their phone, bending over to check, opening their laptops, etc. 

It was a message from [Character Name]:

Or just as simple as: She texted her sister. 

[lovelettersforthedamned]

frat Peter for the sick fic cos I just know he would be utterly clueless on what he’s doing or how to take care but would just be doing the most to help xxx ❄️❄️ + hope ur better now!!!

in sickness & in health

◦ paring: frat!tasm!peter parker x gn!reader

◦ word count: 0.5k

◦ warnings: mild sickness, mention of alcohol, one little smooch, fluff all around.

The rain outside your window reflected how you felt. Your runny nose, sore throat, and body aches kept you bedridden, your body too exhausted to go anywhere else. If it weren’t for your dear boyfriend Peter, you think you would’ve died in this bed. Maybe you’re exaggerating a bit, but you certainly feel like death. 

You looked like death too, you’re certain of that. The last time you looked in the mirror was when you went to pee this morning. The person looking back at you had the darkest under eyes you’ve ever seen, a puffy and red nose from the constant tissues, and dry chapped lips. Honestly, how you looked was the least of your concerns. Peter’s seen you blackout drunk during the infamous Halloween bar crawl, and if he could still love you after that night, then he could love you now. 

You haven’t gone to the doctor yet, and the wait time for urgent care was ungodly long. So that leaves Peter to play doctor for a few days, and with the help of the internet and your local drugstore, he has one mission in his mind: make you feel better. 

The woman behind the checkout counter looked at Peter like he was insane, and honestly rightfully so. He bought two different types of cold and flu medicine, a heating pad, and three bottles of Gatorade, and he threw in a bouquet of flowers just for the hell of it. 

Walking into your room, you’re sprawled out on the mattress, your laptop reflecting a random movie onto your face. “Hey bug,” he’s out of breath while he frantically puts the bags onto the floor, “I got a few things, but I’m not too sure what you have.” Reaching into one of them, he pulls out the medicine, “The internet said you have a rare form of throat cancer, but I didn’t find any throat cancer medicine, so this will have to do!”

Peter sits beside you on the bed, reading the directions before taking off the cap pouring the right measurements into it, and handing it to you. “Thank you, Pete,” you sit up on your elbow as you toss the thick liquid back, wincing at the taste, “but you really shouldn’t be sitting this close to me right now. I could be contagious.”

“I’m practically immune to all bacteria and viruses babe. The frat flu should be scared of me,” he takes back the cap from your hands before placing it on your bedside table, right next to the tissues. He leans down and kisses your forehead deeply, “In sickness and in health, right babe?” 

You pull back from his touch, confusion written across your face, “But we’re not even married.” 

He stands and walks to the bathroom to wash out the remaining medicine still lingering on the cap, leaving you baffled. “Not yet!” 

◦ author's note: WOOOOO frat!peter strikes again!!!! yes, i am back to normal! thank you so much for asking<3 don't forget to like, comment, and reblog my work if you enjoyed! my 300 follower celebration is still happening, so come hang out! ok, bye ily<333

[mostlysignssomeportents]

The Framework is the most exciting laptop I've ever broken

From the moment I started using computers, I wanted to help other people use them. I was everyone’s tech support for years, which prepared me for the decade or so when I was a CIO-for-hire. In the early days of the internet, I spent endless hours helping my BBS friends find their way onto the net.

Helping other people use technology requires humility: you have to want to help them realize their goals, which may be totally unlike your own. You have to listen carefully and take care not to make assumptions about how they “should” use tech. You may be a tech expert, but they are experts on themselves.

This is a balancing act, because it’s possible to be too deferential to someone else’s needs. As much as other people know about how they want technology to work, if you’re their guide, you have to help them understand how technology will fail.

For example, using the same memorable, short password for all your services works well, but it fails horribly. When one of those passwords leak, identity thieves can take over all of your friend’s accounts. They may think, “Oh, no one would bother with my account, I’ve got nothing of value,” so you have to help them understand how opportunistic attacks work.

Yes, they might never be individually targeted, but they might be targeted collectively, say, to have their social media accounts hijacked to spread malware to their contacts.

Paying attention to how things work without thinking about how they fail is a recipe for disaster. It’s the reasoning that has people plow their savings into speculative assets that are going up and up, without any theory of when that bubble might pop and leave them ruined.

It’s hard to learn about failure without experiencing it, so those of us who have lived through failures have a duty to help the people we care about understand those calamities without living through them themselves.

That’s why, for two decades, I’ve always bought my hardware with an eye to how it fails every bit as much as how it works. Back when I was a Mac user — and supporting hundreds of other Mac users — I bought two Powerbooks at a time.

I knew from hard experience that Applecare service depots were completely unpredictable and that once you mailed off your computer for service, it might disappear into the organization’s bowels for weeks or even (in one memorable case), months.

I knew that I would eventually break my laptop, and so I kept a second one in sync with it through regular system-to-system transfers. When my primary system died, I’d wipe it (if I could!) and return it to Apple and switch to the backup and hope the main system came back to me before I broke the backup system.

This wasn’t just expensive — it was very technologically challenging. The proliferation of DRM and other “anti-piracy” measures on the Mac increasingly caused key processes to fail if you simply copied a dead system’s drive into a good one.

Then, in 2006, I switched operating systems to Ubuntu, a user-centric, easy-to-use flavor of GNU/Linux. Ubuntu was originally developed with the idea that its users would include Sub-Saharan African classrooms, where network access was spotty and where technical experts might be far from users.

To fulfill this design requirement, the Ubuntu team focused themselves on working well, but also failing gracefully, with the idea that users might have to troubleshoot their own technological problems.

One advantage of Ubuntu: it would run on lots of different hardware, including IBM’s Thinkpads. The Thinkpads were legendarily rugged, but even more importantly, Thinkpad owners could opt into a far more reliable service regime that Applecare.

For about $150/year, IBM offered a next-day, on-site, worldwide hardware replacement warranty. That meant that if your laptop broke, IBM would dispatch a technician with parts to wherever you were, anywhere in the world, and fix your computer, within a day or so.

This was a remnant of the IBM Global Services business, created to supply tech support to people who bought million-dollar mainframes, and laptop users could ride on its coattails. It worked beautifully — I’ll never forget the day an IBM technician showed up at my Mumbai hotel while I was there researching a novel and fixed my laptop on the hotel-room desk.

This service was made possible in part by the Thinkpad’s hardware design. Unlike the Powerbook, Thinkpads were easy to take apart. Early on in my Thinkpad years, I realized I could save a lot of money by buying my own hard-drives and RAM separately and installing them myself, which took one screwdriver and about five minutes.

The keyboards were also beautifully simple to replace, which was great because I’m a thumpy typist and I would inevitably wear out at least one keyboard. The first Thinkpad keyboard swap I did took less than a minute, and I performed it one-handed, while holding my infant daughter in my other hand, and didn’t even need to read the documentation!

But then IBM sold the business to Lenovo and it started to go downhill. Keyboard replacements got harder, the hardware itself became far less reliable, and they started to move proprietary blobs onto their motherboards that made installing Ubuntu into a major technical challenge.

Then, in 2021, I heard about a new kind of computer: the Framework, which was designed to be maintained by its users, even if they weren’t very technical.

https://frame.work/

The Framework was small and light — about the same size as a Macbook — and very powerful, but you could field-strip it in 15 minutes with a single screwdriver, which shipped with the laptop.

I pre-ordered a Framework as soon as I heard about it, and got mine as part of the first batch of systems. I ordered mine as a kit — disassembled, requiring that I install the drive, RAM and wifi card, as well as the amazing, snap-fit modular expansion ports. It was a breeze to set up, even if I did struggle a little with the wifi card antenna connectors (they subsequently posted a video that made this step a lot easier):

https://twitter.com/frameworkputer/status/1433320060429373440

The Framework works beautifully, but it fails even better. Not long after I got my Framework, I had a hip replacement; as if in sympathy, my Framework’s hinges also needed replacing (a hazard of buying the first batch of a new system is that you get to help the manufacturer spot problems in their parts).

My Framework “failed” — it needed a new hinge — but it failed so well. Framework shipped me a new part, and I swapped my computer’s hinges, one day after my hip replacement. I couldn’t sit up more than 40 degrees, I was high af on painkillers, and I managed the swap in under 15 minutes. That’s graceful failure.

https://guides.frame.work/Guide/Hinge+Replacement+Guide/104

After a few weeks’ use, I was convinced. I published my review, calling the Framework “the most exciting laptop I’ve ever used.”

https://pluralistic.net/2021/09/21/monica-byrne/#think-different

That was more than a year ago. In the intervening time, I’ve got to discover just how much punishment my Framework can take (I’ve been back out on the road with various book publicity events and speaking engagements) and also where its limits are. I’ve replaced the screen and the keyboard, and I’ve even upgraded the processor:

https://guides.frame.work/Guide/Mainboard+Replacement+Guide/79

I’m loving this computer so. damn. much. But as of this morning, I love it even more. On Thursday, I was in Edinburgh for the UK launch of “Chokepoint Capitalism,” my latest book, which I co-authored with Rebecca Giblin.

As I was getting out of a cab for a launch-day podcast appearance, I dropped my Framework from a height of five feet, right onto the pavement. I had been working on the laptop right until the moment the cab arrived because touring is nuts. I’ve got about 150% more commitments than I normally do, and I basically start working every day at 5AM and keep going until I drop at midnight, every single day.

As rugged as my Framework is, that drop did for it. It got an ugly dent in the input cover assembly and — far, far worse — I cracked my screen. The whole left third of my screen was black, and the rest of it was crazed with artefacts and lines.

This is a catastrophe. I don’t have any time for downtime. Just today, I’ve got two columns due, a conference appearance and a radio interview, which all require my laptop. I got in touch with Framework and explained my dire straits and they helpfully expedited shipping of a new $179 screen.

Yesterday, my laptop screen stopped working altogether. I was in Oxford all day, and finished my last book event at about 9PM. I got back to my hotel in London at 11:30, and my display was waiting for me at the front desk. I staggered bleary-eyed to my room, sat down at the desk, and, in about fifteen minutes flat, I swapped out the old screen and put in the new one.

https://guides.frame.work/Guide/Display+Replacement+Guide/86

That is a fucking astoundingly graceful failure mode.

Entropy is an unavoidable fact of life. “Just don’t drop your laptop” is great advice, but it’s easier said than done, especially when you’re racing from one commitment to the next without a spare moment in between.

Framework has designed a small, powerful, lightweight machine — it works well. But they’ve also designs a computer that, when you drop it, you can fix yourself. That attention to graceful failure saved my ass.

If you hear me today on CBC Sunday Magazine, or tune into my Aaron Swartz Day talk, or read my columns at Medium and Locus, that’s all down to this graceful failure mode. Framework’s computers aren’t just the most exciting laptops I’ve ever used — they’re the most exciting laptops I’ve ever broken.

[Image ID: A disassembled Framework laptop; a man's hand reaches into the shot with a replacement screen.]

[embrosegraves]

𝔸𝕟 𝕌𝕟𝕙𝕖𝕒𝕝𝕥𝕙𝕪 𝕆𝕓𝕤𝕖𝕤𝕤𝕚𝕠𝕟

Not the biggest fan of this I'll be honest. I don't think I'll do something like this very often, and if I do it won't be for a while. Anyways I hope you enjoy even just a little bit &lt;;3

Warnings: Obsessive behaviour, Being unaware of listening devices, hidden camera, author not knowing how to put the correct warning for a fic lmao, I definitely missed something I know it.

Sebastian Vettel x Reader  Obsessed x Obsessed but Seb thinks it’s just him lowkey this was a little inspired by An Unhealthy Obsession by The Blake Robinson Synthetic Orchestra. It's a good song.

Sebastian was never one to invade the privacy of others. He was a gentleman, thank you very much! But he had gotten into the habit of finding out what room you were staying in at every hotel, just so he could… set up, before you got there. 

If anybody found out that he put walkie talkies in your room, he could always just say that it was in case you needed any help. One might argue that hotels had notoriously thin walls, but he was just being cautious. Sebastian was also convinced that no one would be able to find the microscopic camera he had stuck to the tv at the end of your hotel bed. 

Seb had been in his own room (quite literally next door) for about an hour before he heard you opening the door to your room. He listened to the walkie, and watched through the camera he had connected to his phone, as you put your luggage on your bed. He could tell you were exhausted with the flight over and he wished craved to be the one you’d turn to after a long day. 

Eventually his own exhaustion and the jetlag caught up to him and he fell asleep listening to you hum whatever song had been on your mind that day. 

— — — — 

You were exhausted. Having just gotten back from the paddock, your camera’s memory stick positively brimming, all you wanted to do was relax. Before you could spread out on the bed, you needed to change clothes. Get rid of the surprisingly uncomfortable team wear and surround yourself in something more comfortable. Paying no mind to the opened curtains of your hotel suite, you changed into a pair of cotton shorts and an oversized SV5 hoodie that made it look like you weren’t wearing pants.  

Finally able to flop down on the bed, you grabbed your laptop and your camera and started to transfer the images so you could pick out which ones to send to the media team. If you saved every photo of Sebastian, well no one but you would know. Eventually, you sent an email to the head of Media containing an array of photos that had a mix of different drivers within them. 

You spent the rest of your evening browsing the internet for anything even remotely related to the German driver that had been on your mind since you were 12.

— — — — 

He knew that you had only just changed the tyres of your car. Of course he knew. Afterall he was the one that caused you to need to change them in the first place. It had been all too easy to set up. He just needed to make sure that the road you usually took to drive home from the track had an invisible row of spikes that you would drive over. 

All he had to do afterwards was wait for you to call. He knew you would. He made sure that he spent enough time helping you so that he would be the first person you would call should you need help elsewhere. Hearing his phone ring when he was conveniently ten minutes away from you made his heart palpitate. His chest constricted so deliciously at the thought of hearing you beg him to help. He had to play this smart. 

“Yes, Leibe?” He sounded happy, something he would tell you was because of the adrenaline rush of placing on the podium. 

“Hi Seb, listen, I’m really sorry to ask this but do you think you could come and pick me up?” You asked him. “My car just suddenly got a flat tire and you were the first person I thought to call.” 

“Of course! I’ve actually just left the track not too long ago myself-” of course he had “Just send over your location and I can come get you.”

“Thank you so much Seb, I’ll quickly share my location so you know where I am.” 

“I’ll see you soon then, Liebe.” 

After he hung up, you shared your location, as you said you would. It only took him about 6 minutes to show up. No one had to know that he occasionally ignored the speed limits.

— — — — 

People would definitely call it creepy if they knew just how obsessed Sabastian Vettel was with you. He liked to think that it was romantic. To be entirely honest, you thought it was endearing how much he wanted you to be his. As much as the people around you were oblivious to Seb’s unhealthy obsession with you, you were a lot more observant than everyone realised. 

The first time it came to your attention was when you had joined Formula One as a Photographer. Having watched the sport for years now, and constantly keeping up with it throughout your studies, you knew every driver on the grid that year. Being ‘fresh meat’ in the paddock, you were easy to spot for everyone. The drivers more or less were not that interested in the new photographer that the sport had hired. If anything it just meant that they had to pose more than they already did. But there was one driver who couldn’t help but be absolutely fascinated with you. 

You thanked whatever power-that-be that Sebastian Vettel had entered into F1 the same year you entered puberty, as it allowed you to blame that on your sudden obsession with him. Being interested in him since you were 12 had given you plenty of time to become a master at hiding just how obsessed you were. So of course, when Sebastian came up to you to introduce himself, it was only too easy to see the signs of a brand new budding obsession.

— — — — 

Despite being so enamoured with you, Sebastian had never once been inside your house. His eyes were flitting around everywhere, trying to take in as much of your home as he could. You had invited him to come in for a cup of tea after he had saved you from being stranded with no transport. 

“Feel free to explore if you’d like.” You called to him as you made your way to the kitchen to fill up the kettle. You had no qualms about him snooping through your things. If anything, Sebastian snooping through your house might finally get him to understand that he wasn’t the only obsessed party. 

Sebastian was never one to turn down an opportunity that was literally being handed to him. The minute you had walked into the kitchen after telling him to explore, he went straight upstairs. The first room he entered was a bathroom. Nice and clean, spacious. Perfect for some relaxing should it be needed. He didn’t spend long in there. 

The next room he walked into happened to be your guest room. It was a bit plain, nothing too extravagant. A nice bed, a small closet space and a door that led to the relatively large balcony overlooking your backyard. Same as the bathroom, he didn’t spend too much time in the room.

The next room had him more excited than he would admit. Your bedroom. It was cosy and warm and it perfectly embodied everything he thought you were. There was a door that led to the same balcony as the guest room. He spent a bit longer in this room. He contemplated for only a split second whether or not he should look through your drawers, before he rationalised that you had given him permission to look around. Whether or not you meant looking around through your dresser was of no consequence to him. 

He was a little disappointed that he hadn’t found any raunchy toys in your bedside drawers. Nonetheless he continued on his way to the final room on the upper floor. 

Opening the door furthest from the stairs, he discovered your office. It was pretty standard for an office. A large desk with a computer, a comfy chair behind it. On one wall was a bookshelf full of literature of all kinds. He only recognised a few titles so he didn’t bother looking too intensely there. What he did look intensely at however, was a section of your office that could only be described as a shrine. Upon closer inspection he realised the subject of the shrine. 

Him. 

There were photos and photos of him at all sorts of points in his career. His first Formula 1 race, the first time he scored points, the first time he got on the podium, the first time he got pole position in qualifying, his first race win and his first WDC were among many of the countless photos of him that were proudly displayed. He had even noticed that there were newspaper clippings that had been cut out, and in every one of them he had been surrounded in a thick red heart shape. Standing right in front of it, he began leafing through everything that covered the small desk. 

“I thought I’d find you here.” 

Your voice had started Sebastian. His head shot up to look at you. How could he have been so careless as to stop paying attention to his surroundings? He had gotten caught red handed and he wasn’t sure how he could solve this. He didn’t want you to think that he was a creep (though given that you had a literal shrine dedicated to him, the chance of that was slim). 

“I usually keep this room locked when I am away.” You said, moving to place the two drinks you had brought up on your desk before sitting on the plush chair you had next to the shrine. 

“Did you know that I have cameras in every room of my house?” This was rhetorical. “I thought it was quite interesting that you looked so disappointed when you didn’t find anything interesting in my bedside drawers. I thought I might help you find what you wanted.” 

You reached over to open the drawer of the desk he was still standing in front of. His body hadn’t moved an inch, excluding his head that had followed your every movement since entering the room. Which meant that when you did get the drawer open, your hand ever so gently brushed against his thigh. The touch sent an almost violent shiver through both of you. 

Seeing you nod your head towards the now open space in front of him, Sebastian moved his gaze from your face to the contents of the drawer. This explained why he found nothing in your bedroom. Neatly organised inside the drawer was an array of lewd toys. Picking one up, he looked at them more closely. It wasn’t until then that he noticed that each and every one of your toys was customised. With his name on them. 

He fell even deeper at the thought that whenever you played with yourself, it was his name inside you. That it was his name that gave you pleasure and release. He almost didn’t notice the pair of panties you kept behind the toys in your drawers. He grabbed them and looked at the embroidery on the back of the lacy garment. 

“VDS?” The rasp in his voice had you feeling particularly wet and ready. 

“Vettel’s Dirty Slut was a little too long for such a small canvas of lace.” You elaborated. “I’d say I’m a dab hand at stitching, amongst other things.”

His eyes had darkened when you explained the acronym. He had envisioned having you in such a way since seeing you for the first time in 2014. “Show me.” 

You gave a sly smile as you grabbed his hand, leading him back to your bedroom, toys and panties still in his grasp. 

Your tea had long since gone cold by the time you had finished.

welp. there it goes. definitely not my best work, but rest assured that I will try my best to get better at writing more darkly themed fics. can't promise that I'll post my attempts all too often but I'll definitely work on it

thank you for the request Lovey!

[romana-after-dark]

Finish the Job

Yandere!Jake Lockley x GN!reader

Join Dark!Romana's tag list

Dark!Romana's Masterlist

Summary: After months living in a room with only Jake, Steven and Marc as company, you can't say you aren't content most of the time. Sometimes, however you make a little trouble and Jake reminds you that he is the only one who can keep you safe.

CONTENT WARNINGS: Yandere!Jake. Reader is kidnapped. Implied/referenced rape (reader 'never said no' according to jake, but rather just gave in after an unclosed amount of time bc they were lonely/manipulated. The circumstances of this are v vague but remember, if you feel like you have to, its not consent.) Jake Lockley typical violence. Referenced past abuse.

A/N: I began writing this fem reader, as most of my fics are since I am fem, but I realized there was no reason this couldn't be gender neutral. So, that's what it is. If I missed changing anything that makes it seem like reader is fem presenting, lmk and I'll edit it but I looked through this several times.

*************************

You couldn’t say the bed was uncomfortable. You couldn’t say the room was bland or boring. You couldn’t say you had nothing to do. It was a great room, actually. If you were being honest, you loved it here…

The problem was you couldn’t leave. When the man had taken you, it took a while to figure out what was going on with him; it was Steven that explained it, the DID. Honestly, maybe the mental disorder should have scared you more, but you were well versed in different disorders so it wasn’t something that phased you, rather than just made it a challenge to navigate your situation. You were given book after book after book to read, to entertain you when outside of Marc Steven and Jake’s company; it didn't matter how many you went through, you just had them. If you were feeling brave, you made requests but honestly after the boredom of the first month while you were still fighting it, you took what you could get. You were even given a laptop, although it couldn’t possibly connect to the internet, but you were writing. They didn’t even make you show them what you wrote, but Steven would often sit on the bed while you read to him your poems or short stories. You were saving your novel for when it’s finished.

Some days were better than others. 

Some days you and Steven talked for hours.

Some days you and Marc marathonned Star Wars.

Some days Jake held you so warm and so tightly you forgot they kidnapped you.

Today was not one of those days.

You were angry, you were upset, you missed your friends and you missed the outside, you wanted fresh air and you didn’t want to spread your legs for a man that took you away from everything you knew and wanted. 

“Why are you giving me so much fucking attitude today?!” Jake shouts at you, pacing the floor of your room so aggressively he had your throw rug all twisted up.

You were sat up on your bed, shouting back. “You KIDNAPPED ME, you HURT ME you RAPE ME-”

“CALLATE!” He screamed, storming towards you so fast you flinch and scramble back to the wall. “You know I don’t like when you call it that!”

A sardonic laugh. “What? Rape?”

“I never forced you! I never held you down! I never got you too drunk or high to resist-”

“YOU TOOK ME AWAY FROM EVERYTHING AND EVERYONE, WHAT OTHER OPTION DID I HAVE!”

His face is suddenly right up to yours, so close your nose brushed his briefly as he speaks in a dark, quiet voice. “I never heard you say no, mi vida”

He was right. You hadn’t. But they had worn you down, twisted your mind so much that eventually you just began… giving in.

He continued talking, his voice rumbling with the low octive “I only hurt you in the beginning, carino. Just until you began to listen. You needed it, didn’t you? Someone to take you away from everything, take care of you, feed you. Baby, we adore you, and it hurts us when you fight like this.”

Your eyes wheeled up with tears at his words. It’s true, you had become so dependent on them… you weren’t sure you could even shower alone anymore. You’d be lucky if you remembered how to toast bread. Sickeningly, a part of you liked it. You liked he cared for, pampered, adored, and fuck, worshiped. You had time to write, time to listen to music and podcasts. If you need to look up something for a book or research something from a podcast that interested you, you just asked, and the boys would monitor you. You didn’t really need anything except some goddamn freedom. What was that they said in The Handmaid’s Tale? There’s freedom too, and freedom from… They offered you freedom from, and made that clear.

“The world is dangerous, precioso. You know that as well as I do… perhaps better.” With a cocked eyebrow, Jake referenced your past trauma’s, forcing the tears to spill over. “You are too precious, too perfect to be put at risk again. Your family didn’t protect you, but I will.”

Still, you are ever-defiant, shaking your head. “N-no… you aren’t protecting me. You’re hurting me…” but even then, you couldn’t manage much conviction. You hadn’t so much as burned your tongue since Steven, Marc, and Jake took you, and he was right… the rest was just discipline. 

Jake frowned, but simple stood up. He went over to your desk, taking out a Glee notepad he’d found on ebay for you and a pen, tossing them in your direction.

“Write them down, all the names.”

You look at him confused. “W-what names?”

He stalked forward, once again close to you.

“Give me the full name of anyone who has ever hurt you or touched you without your consent.” His gaze was focused, intense. You knew he was on a mission when he looked at you like that.

“I don’t… I don’t know all their full names…”

“If you have workplace addresses, any identifying information that’s helpful. I promise you, I’ll take whatever you give me and I will find them. Every single person who has ever caused you pain.”

“What are you going to do?” You didn’t really need to ask, but you did anyway.

“You and I both know. Now write.”

The list was long, longer than any one person’s list should be. A few, you only remembered their first name so you wrote down what you knew… Jake had his ways. Still, you had some cheek in you, and when Jake looked at the paper, he frowned.

“What the fuck is this.” He smacked the paper with his hand. After the list of people who had violated or harmed you before you came here, were three names Jake recognized right away.

Jake Lockley

Steven Grant

Marc Spector

“You told me to write the names of anyone who hurt me or touched me without-” SMACK! Your head flung to the side from the backhand, and when your turned back to face him, his hand gripped your throat.

“You think this is funny, carino?” His face pressed against yours. “How do you think Marc would feel if he saw his name on that list?”

Your lip quivered at that… you didn’t want Marc to see. Marc was special to you, and Jake knew it; he often exploited your relationship with his alter for his own benefit.

“I’m sorry” You cried, apologetic.

His grip on you loosened, and he looked back at you with sympathetic eyes. Letting go, he tore the bottom three names off the paper and tucked the offenders into his pocket. “I know you are, amor. Now, you sit here pretty, and don’t worry about a damn thing for the rest of your life, si?”

It took about a month. He never left you for more than one day at a time, but he always made sure you had food and were provided for, even giving you access to the bathroom. You didn’t dare even look for an exit; they wouldn’t have left anything vulnerable, and you were on camera, you knew. It would just cause trouble.

It was after one of those such nights where you were alone that he came back to you, still somehow looking put together after being out all night. You knew he hadn’t slept. You awake to his footsteps, heavy boots on your polished hard wood floor. As you stir, a piece of paper is placed on your pillow.

Sitting up you rub your eyes. “Jake, what’s- ” But you are stopped in the middle of your sentence. Every single name is crossed out on the list you had given him. “Does… does what mean they are dead?”

He steps forward, slipping to stand between your knees and bedding over, placing his hands on your thighs. His face was intensely close to yours, dark eyes piercing yours. You lean forward, accepting him in, existing in his precise. Jake did this for you. You were safe here, none of these people could hurt you… but because they had, whether months ago or decades, it didn’t matter. They were dead because they had crossed you, because they had dared to touch what Jake Lockley laid claim to. Jake, Marc and Steven… they were where you belonged.

 “Jake Lockley finishes the job.”

**************

@my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @howaboutcastiel @the-fox-den @fandxmslxt69

[pspkisser]

⚙️ This laptop was saved from obsolescence! [10 mins of read]

Hello!! i am making this post here to raise awareness for PC and laptop upgrades, and how it should motivate you to do that same thing to preserve yours for longer or to give it the power you need! this will feature my history with mine, as well as the steps i took to be able to make him breathe life better! this is the story of his journey, and how it went to this current day.

his name is samuel, he is an asus fx570u and i bought him back in september of 2018 after i turned 13! he was brand new during that time and priced at 800 euros, offering only 6 gb of memory and an HDD as his specs. however he does have an 8th gen core i5 as his cpu and a geforce 1050 ti for his gpu. for something marketed as a gaming pc, it's pretty low and it wouldn't allow him to run fast enough, especially for highly demanding software and causing some compatibility issues. it wasn't severe, but as i was stuck with an hdd, that meant operating systems would run pretty slow on it, also leading to long software loading times. this is made worse by the fact that its bundled system, windows 10, isn't designed to work efficiently on hdd in the first place, but at least that means i have my hands on a windows key to be able to use some windows exclusive programs..

i mainly used him to be able to use advanced video editing software and customize the games i have on it for my own taste, because back then i loved making youtube videos and it was a passion i've had for years until i've partially retired from it. i rarely bought games on it and instead opted for free-to-plays, and overall had a good time with him.

unfortunately within only 3 months, his HDD broke down and i sent him to technicians for them to replace it with another one. it was a minor accident i've had but it formatted all my data, even though it didn't matter much since i uploaded most of it to the internet. i just had to be gentle with him by trying to not moving him around too much to stop that issue from persisting... but it was still low-end in terms of system performance. i finally used him for 1 year straight before moving on to a tower pc, feeling tired about his slowness and believing i couldn't do much about it.

i used that other (unnamed) pc for almost a year, starting from 2020! they seemed to work better since it had windows 7, but embarrassingly enough that version itself stopped receiving official security updates months before i started using it, even though i was careful while accessing the internet with it. its performances were also low, but didn't really matter much since i didn't take so much advantage from the power of samuel. suddenly, i had the foolish idea of installing windows 8.1 on the latter to try to deal with the performance issues on 10, but it led to even more compatibility issues since the drivers i used were meant to be for 10 only. only by early 2021, i got win10 back on him and started using him again to get more power again.

so the low-end performance persisted for very long. back then i never knew how to upgrade pcs, so i was only used to replacing devices with others which wasn't cost-efficient. after realizing i used windows for well over 10 years, i had the idea of switching to a mac and as a result, for xmas 2021 i got myself a cute yellow silicon imac, who goes by the name of sarah! but switching to macos posed new serious challenges, such as getting used to the lack of windows compatibility and the missing features that i was used to for a long time. most of the creativity i did with her was drawings with firealpaca and krita, and cgi with blender, which wasn't really much. still, she is pretty glossy and also powerful for many of the tasks i'm performing with her. originally i also intended to sell samuel, but that never happened (i low regret that decision so much i swear).

in late 2022, samuel's performance apparently had had a big hit... he now takes approximately 20 seconds to open any program and it seemed to me like something was wrong with him. at that time i also gained interest in linux since it's a libre OS capable of much more flexibility, essentially allowing it to revive old PCs. i finally decided to get linux mint to work on him via a dual boot with win11 (what was i thinking when i "upgraded" him from 10?). the performance seemed a little better from then, but programs still took very long to open. for that reason, he had often been collecting dust as he finally became unusable.

finally we've reached 2023. this is the year i decided to take on tearing down devices to learn how to examine problems inside of them. after checking samuel's performance again, i noticed that his HDD was having extremely low writing and reading speeds compared to my tower, which made me feel disappointed. but that's when i finally decided i could be able to replace his hard disk with an ssd, a new generation which is more durable, faster, quieter and energy-efficient...

but i still had a good wait until it was possible. suddenly with my money, i found an ssd which only costed €30, and it made me happy that this would be a quick way of healing up samuel! so i rushed to get it, and finally opened him to prepare everything... unfortunately, his keyboard has to be lifted up in the process, and there are flex cables connected between it and the motherboard. but taking out the hard disk thankfully only requires a few steps; removing some screws, then inserting the SSD inside of it. after that i quickly put linux mint back into him. SO SPLENDID...

for only the price of a high budget indie game, now he can open programs very fast, close to how fast sarah can do, and just about any task works perfectly well on him with way less bugs! thanks to that fast upgrade he's become viable for daily drives again, even though i don't have other desks suitable for pcs which makes me less motivated to use him. really wish id be able to since the architecture he has (x64) means he has a lot more software he's able to handle natively...

but then, i hadn't upgraded his ram. i said before that he only had 6 gb of it, and that meant he could only work with a few programs before becoming bloated. and as i like doing power tasks on him, that obviously causes problems. so one day, i went to a pc part store out of curiosity, and became shocked when i found small ram carts that could be compatible with my laptop. after some talk with the seller, i bought 2 ddr4 carts each containing 8 gb and clocked at 2666 mhz, more than double of what i used to have. after that it was time to take on a challenge to be able to insert them myself.

when the seller asked me if i needed assistance to have the carts inserted into my laptop, i giggled internally because of my past stories with learning how to open devices and trying to troubleshoot or modify them internally. i obviously declined it which saved me money, but also meant i had to do it all myself. after an hour of painful manipulations which required me to take out the entire motherboard from samuel, while that next step was also difficult i was finally able to insert the carts into it, before placing all his components back into place. and after such a long time of waiting...

i've finally done it!

Samuel is feeling very well right now!! despite his cpu and gpu dating from over 5 years, now he can do even more tasks at a time, while also being able to read them faster, a massive improvement compared to when it was stuck with an hdd and only 6 gb of ram. i'm guessing those low specs were for the purpose of saving manufacturing costs, but until you'd find use for the components that you'd remove, they'd end up becoming waste. and with a free os like linux mint, it adds up to an even more optimized experience than windows 10, which comes with so many unwanted stuff and can't be customized very well.

have you had a similar story to mine? did that pose you challenges? i took over 40 minutes to write this entire piece of text, but it should at least be very well detailed! on the best case scenario i hope it would inspire others to do some research on upgrading PCs to preserve their lives and especially save costs. Thank you for reading the entirety of it, don't hesitate reblogging it if you think it would interest your own audience! peace for all of you 💙

[stressed-and-fluff-obsessed]

If you’re still doing requests/no pressure but what about Charlie finding out that Vaggie’s new wings are ticklish when she tries to help her preen them?

Oh my goodness I love this one!

Preening Problems

Summary: After recently getting her wings back Vaggie doesn’t remember how to preen them when they get out of shape, Charlie helps her out

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Charlie watched in concern as Vaggie trudged around the parlor, seemingly in pain or discomfort but Charlie couldn’t figure out why and didn’t want to pry.

Vaggie had recently gotten her wings back when she went to train with Carmilla and now that the battle with the exorcists was over they had time to relax.

Charlie wasn’t lying either, Vaggie’s wings were beautiful but they looked a little bent out of shape. Feathers stuck out left and right, the shiny white and silver color had dulled significantly and they seemed a lot more twitchy than usual, it concerned Charlie.

But she didn’t know what to do! She knew Lucifer was a fallen angel but he was miles away on a business trip so he was out. So what else could she do?

When Vaggie finished trudging around the parlor like a zombie, she had retreated back to her room likely to rest so Charlie took that as her opportunity to go up to her own room and quickly jump on her computer to do some research.

Charlie acted quickly since she didn’t know what was happening to Vaggie she wanted to figure it out quickly, she surfed the news station, asked around to her friends but still nothing, Charlie was at her wits end for now.

With a defeated sigh Charlie closed her laptop and looked at the time, she had been internet surfing for two hours now so she pushed herself from her desk and walked over to her bed, kicking off her shoes and grabbing KeeKee, sliding under the covers with the cat.

“I don’t know what to do KeeKee. I’ve never seen this before and I’m worried it’s hurting her.” Charlie told the small cat who placed a paw on Charlie’s arm reassuringly before going to sleep but that gave Charlie an idea, “You’re right KeeKee, I should probably sleep, I’ll look into this some more tomorrow, goodnight!” Charlie smiled before going to sleep.

~*~

Charlie stood, already ready for the day and ready to tackle whatever she needed to do to find out what was wrong with Vaggie. She placed her chin in her hand in thought, thinking who she could ask to help. “Alastor doesn’t have wings so he wouldn’t know, Niffty is too small to help, Angel irritates Vaggie, my dad is miles away so who..” Charlie muttered to herself before the lightbulb went off, “Husk…Husk has feathered wings! He can help!” Charlie exclaimed excitedly, spooking KeeKee who was still in the room.

Quickly she rushed downstairs and immediately spotted Husker at the bar cleaning a bottle while chatting with Niffty. “Husk I need to talk to you!” Charlie called from the top of the stairs catching the bartender’s attention as he looked to meet her eye, watching her as she raced down the stairs.

“Hey Niff I think I saw a roach down that hall earlier why don’t you go kill it.” Husk told the little maid who excitedly jumped up and scurried down the hall to go find it as Husk turned back to Charlie who had already reached his bar out of breath.

“What is it princess? You seem to be in quite the rush.” Husk asked her, still cleaning the bottle. “I am Husk and I have a question, do your wings ever get bent out of shape? Like feathers sticking out or them dulling or getting more twitchy?” Charlie asked the bartender who hummed in understanding.

“This is about Vaggie isn’t it? Yes that happens to wings all the time, even mine. We have to preen them. It’s a lil embarrassing so I won’t tell you about it but you can look it up if you want kid.” Husk answered, smiling softly as Charlie’s face lit up.

“Thank you Husk!” Charlie called over her shoulder as she raced upstairs and jumped back onto her computer looking for a video on how to preen a pair of wings.

After watching the video Charlie deduced that it didn’t seem that difficult and made her way to Vaggie’s room. When she arrived she knocked softly on the door, waiting for a moment before hearing a sound that sounded like someone dragging themselves out of bed and winces of pain that made Charlie’s heart clench in sympathy.

A few seconds later a very uncomfortable looking Vaggie opened the door and her face brightened a little when she saw Charlie, “Charlie! Come in.”Vaggie answered, stepping out of the way to let Charlie in who settled on a nearby chair as Vaggie settled on her bed.

“Vaggie we need to talk about your wings.” Charlie spoke up, feeling sympathetic as Vaggie flinched at the mention of her wings, drawing them close but wincing when she did so.

“Vaggie it’s okay you don’t need to be embarrassed, I asked Husk about it and watched some videos so I know what to do if you’ll allow me?” Charlie asked, hope present in her voice as Vaggie averted her gaze seeming to consider it before nodding and turning around, snickering softly as she heard Charlie’s excited gasp.

“It’s not that big of a deal babe.” Vaggie chuckled, hearing a: “it is to me!” from behind her before wincing quickly as she felt Charlie’s hands come into contact with her wings, “Sorry sorry!” She heard Charlie yell from behind her, “It’s fine babe but please take care of them.” Vaggie asked, extending the feathered appendages as much as she could.

She heard a grateful hum from Charlie before she got to work, picking out the broken feathers and rearranging the out of place ones, not rushing at all and taking her time to do the job right.

The two of them sat in comfortable silence, Vaggie slowly relaxing as Charlie patiently preened her wings, giggling a little when she removed a broken feather and Vaggie ruffled her wings as if the say thanks for getting rid of that persistent feather.

“How’d you learn to do this so well babe?” Vaggie asked Charlie, humming in approval as Charlie removed another painful feather, “Lots of videos.” Charlie deadpanned making Vaggie chuckle.

They sat in silence for a little while longer before Vaggie suddenly yelped and Charlie’s hands quickly retracted, “Oh my gosh I’m so so so sorry did I hurt you?!” Charlie frantically apologized, stopping when Vaggie grabbed her wrist, “I’m fine Charlie I’m just..a little sensitive.” Vaggie explained, face heating up as Charlie processed those words. When it finally clicked Charlie grinned like a child and an excited gasp escaped her making Vaggie chuckle.

“Your wings are ticklish?!” Charlie exclaimed excitedly, “Yeah” Vaggie answered as Charlie turned her back around. “I’ll try to be more careful.” Charlie told her but the teasing edge to her voice told Vaggie that she was not going to be more careful.

Charlie did continue picking out all the bad and broken feathers and preening her wings but every so often…”AHAH! Chahahaharlie!” Vaggie yelped as Charlie’s hand ‘accidentally’ slipped up and scribbled over her wing.

It was long but a bit later Charlie had finished and Vaggie took another look at her wings through her teary eyes. They were back. They had their glossy shine back and there were no longer feathers sticking out everywhere, they were normal again.

Vaggie wrapped her arms around Charlie in a tight hug, “Thanks Charlie.” Vaggie smiled, pulling away from Charlie, “Of course!” Charlie grinned back, “But there’s one more thing I need to do to make sure your appointment with me is fully good to go.” Charlie exclaimed, putting on the most serious face she could muster as Vaggie cocked her head to the side curiously.

“Yeah and what’s that?” Vaggie asked, yelping when Charlie tackled her down onto her bed, the two of them tousling for a moment before Charlie got Vaggie down on her back and immediately started scribbling over her wings making her release a strangled sound and start thrashing, loud laughter pouring out of her like a volcano.

“CHAHAHAHAHARLIE!!” Vaggie screeched, wings flapping as they were playfully attacked, “That’s Dr.Charlie to you! I’m finishing up your check up!” Charlie playfully scolded the fallen angel as she continued writhing under her tickly touches.

Charlie then kept one hand scribbling on one wing and used her other hand to knead at Vaggie’s hips making her buck and laugh harder. “CHAHAHAHARLIE WAHAHAHAIT!!” Vaggie cackled, back arching off her bed as Charlie’s hand snaked around to claw at the base of Vaggie’s wing.

“Wait? Wait for what?” Charlie teased, laughing at the way Vaggie cracked one eye open and glared at her, “CHAHAHAHARLIE!!” Vaggie shrieked, “Ohokay okahay” Charlie snickered, climbing off Vaggie and rubbing the previously attacked wing to rid it of the phantom tickled.

“Thahahanks Chaharlie, I reheally needed thahat.” Vaggie pressed out through her laughter, “No problem Vaggie.” Charlie answered as they settled into each other’s embrace and Vaggie’s wing wrapped around Charlie making her smile.

Trust is a valuable thing that’s not easy to hold onto so do what you can to make it last.

(Woah long one, thanks for the request anon, this one was fun!)

[joheunsaram]

Discord Discourse (knj)

next

summary- Kim Namjoon likes to spend time in a discord server... dedicated to him. With new friends and a budding crush, will he ever be able to truly be himself without revealing who he is?

word count- 2.8k

pairing- idol!Namjoon x fanfic writer!Reader

rating- PG15

genre- internet relationships, s2(maybe)lovers, angst, fluff, slightly smutty

warnings- pretty angsty, a little sexting but not actual sexting, superficial conversations portrayed as deep (lol im sorry I didn’t want to make this too long), infatuation, open ending, talks of a daddy kink

a.n.- this was not supposed to Joon’s bday drabble but it somehow ended up so lol. this is for all my fic writers out there. please don’t hate me for what the reader did... there may or may not be another part in the works oops lol

Thanks to the beautiful @raplinesmoon​ for helping me brainstorm, beta and fix the ending!!

As always feedback appreciated, a reblog and a like goes a far way. Send me an ask! 💌

- Kim Namjoon had a bad habit.

It wasn’t like watching too much porn, although it was somewhat like that. It wasn’t googling himself to read comments on his videos, although it was somewhat like that. It wasn’t talking to his fans incognito, although it was exactly like that.

Sitting in his room, in his boxers, he had all the lights off. His eyes were fixated on his screen, two fingers hovering over the touchpad of his laptop as he scrolled periodically. He pushed his glasses back, his face luminated by the blue light of his screen and swallowed, ignoring the way his stomach knotted and his face heated.

Kim Namjoon had a bad habit. And it all started when he joined a random discord server named after his studio. Of course he never revealed himself. To the unsuspecting largely female members, he was John, an autocorrect happenstance that granted him his anonymity. Not that anyone would believe he was him anyway. Not in these circles.

He thought it would be cute to interact with his fans when his new solo song came out, a way to practice his English. He wanted to know their reactions and their criticisms without the love. Little did he know that all he would get was affection and that affection would not only feed his dwindling ego but give him a dopamine rush that had become so addictive it had his heart racing every time a notification popped on his phone.

monolover: omgggggg did you see joon in the new mv???? I’m fucking dying! moonchild: yes I want to lick his whole body! GODDAMN HES PERFECT!!! joonsbicycle: honestly if he’s not getting every inch of his body worshipped rn whats even the point of life? moonlover: I volunteer as tribute! God the things I would let that man do to me!!!

He chuckled at the thread, lower lip caught between his teeth and looked around his dark room. The silence in the air was deafening. He liked his home. He was proud of his collection, making it look like an art museum, beautiful and untouchable. The wooden accents and the plush furniture was comforting but they felt cold.

There was no one there to worship his body. There was no one even there to kiss him. Which is why this was a bad habit. He shouldn’t be getting happy sucked into this small world of eight women who had somehow unlocked more kinks in him than should be possible. And he really shouldn’t be holding his breath when your name showed that you were typing.

It was unhealthy to be almost in love with someone who he didn’t even know. Yet when your message popped up, his heart skipped a beat and his boxers got tighter.

yn: if namjoons sitting alone rn it’s a crime!!! I would be on my knees in front of him marking those thighs fuckkk. yn: speaking of! new super smutty fic is out reblog for good skin lol I really hope he never finds my blog he would be traumatized.

“You have no idea what you do to me,” Namjoon whispered as he stared into the dark abyss in front of him, imagining you crawling towards him, your lips travelling up his legs, your teeth leaving indentations between the muscles.

When he first joined the server, he had been immediately drawn to you. Perhaps it was because he had joined right after he posted about his plans for opening a gallery and the first thing he saw was your in depth analysis on an artist you admired but he had never heard of. It made him eager to post about art too and gave him the push to step away from his nerves and talk. He expected to be told that he was boring and that nobody cared. He was used to that. But the server was inviting, asking questions and letting him soliloquize about paint strokes and abstractions. They welcomed him with open arms without knowing who he was, especially you.

You asked him probing questions that made him think, re-evaluate his stances, and then you turned out to be something out of his wet dreams. The more time he spent on the server, he realized it wasn’t just a place to discuss his and his team’s music and accomplishments. It was a place where they also discussed how attractive he was. In full uncensored detail.

After only a month, he had read every single work of fiction you had created, all of them featuring him. The other members of the server were writers too, but somehow he only found your works alluring. The first thing he read was a whopping ninety thousand word story about heartbreak and love and perseverance. It had him tearing up with his character, a broken man who worked a dead end job.

He had praised it and the moment you told him it was supposed to be an anti capitalist piece, he read it all over again. This time he caught the nuances and critiques of a system he hated and was a part of — just like the Namjoon in the story. You had never met him, yet his fictional self made all the decisions he would make, felt the things he would feel, and after a really long time, he felt like he was seen. His fictional self wasn’t an idol, he wasn’t famous or beloved. He was just himself and it made his longing for a normal life seem… well, normal.

With time, he used your stories to teleport himself into worlds he wouldn’t experience, into situations he would never be in, and he felt alive. Seeing himself from your eyes made him feel incredible, invincible, even if you were practically a stranger.

So without any further ado, he clicked the link you sent and lost himself in a new world. A world where he was apparently a sex god that could make you cum six times in a row. He was hard by the time he finished the short story, and then he read it again, wanting to memorize the moves you so desired. He knew he would never meet you in real life. He had been lucky but he would never get that lucky. Yet he did it, stroking himself as he imagined how you would sound. Your female characters always whimpered when teased and moaned his name breathily. Would he ever get to hear you whimper?

As if reading his mind, you sent him a message.

yn: don’t get too turned on reading the new story. I want you to figure out the hidden meaning 🤪 john: what hidden message is in jisoo calling Namjoon daddy? yn: john we all know you love when I call Namjoon daddy in my fics lol but look deeper 👀 john: it’s only cause it seems like your characters love saying daddy. Anything you wanna confess babe? yn: ughhhhh I hate that you all know my kinks because of this!!! tell me when you see it

Namjoon read the piece again, ignoring how turned on he was to find nuances, and then he read the description of the room, a description he had skimmed over to get to the good parts. How did he miss that?

john: theyre fucking in prison?! john: WHY IS NAMJOON IN PRISON?! john: I thought you said he would be a good guy! He’s always a good guy in your fics!!! yn: don’t get all emo on me. He could be falsely imprisoned lol yn: but nah I put him in prison as an allegory. Like how life can feel like you’re caged in but you forget about that feeling if you have someone you love by your side. yn: ugh I hate explaining stuff makes me feel like a belong on r/verydeep HAHAHHA john: that’s actually fucking profound. Who knew porn could be art? 😝 yn: sex with me is always art thank you very much john: yeah I bet it is, baby. I wouldn’t mind you calling me daddy anytime.

Namjoon blinked as soon as he registered what he had sent, his heart pounding in panic. He had always had these thoughts about you. He never thought he would tell you any of them. What was fucking wrong with him?! Did he really think a few flirting comments from you gave him free reign to sext! God he was like the terrible men on Tinder, just a testosterone filled Neanderthal focused on sex. Fuck!

yn: as hot as I find out intellectual discourse I really wouldn’t sext with a stranger. you could be like twelve for all I know

Namjoon perked up at the message. You technically didn’t say you didn’t want to, just that you wouldn’t. Perhaps he stood a semblance of a chance when it came to you. Perhaps all the texting and subtle flirting made you like him too.

john: as a matter of fact I turned 28 today. so I’m definitely not twelve yn: ha you’ve been reading too many of my fics your bday really the same as Joons?

Oh… he hadn’t thought through about this piece of information. Of course you knew when your favourite celebrity’s birthday was! But hey a lot of people have birthdays at the same time.

john: virgins unite baby john: VIRGOS! I MEANT VIRGOS! yn: lmfao not helping your case john: how do I prove I’m of age yn: honestly idk yn: guess no sexting for us. rip. john: well… what if we do a voice chat? john: not that I just want to sext you! john: it’ll just be nice to hear your voice and get to know you better yn: ha I’m not going to sext you daddy 🤣 yn: but sure I like talking to you (yn calling)

Namjoon’s eyes widened at the screen, his throat dry. He hasn’t expected this easy acquiescence. He thought you would just blow him off, but after months of daily chats he should’ve anticipated that you’d be comfortable enough to chat with him. Taking a deep breath, he clicked the little green phone to pick up.

“Hello.”

“Hey! Wow, your voice is really deep. Somehow even though your name is John I expected a girl,” you giggled and it was a rush of endorphins tapped right into his veins. Your voice was nothing like he imagined. Where he thought of you to have a high pitched, slightly princess-ey tone, your real voice was lower, an alto with a rasp that made him weak. He wanted to listen to it everyday.

“So does this prove I’m not a twelve year old?” he teased, hiding his nerves with a confident bravado you preferred in the fictional Namjoon.

“Nah. But I really want to talk about this book I’m reading because it’s so funny and dumb in the best way and I could care less how old you were,” you replied. He chuckled as you launched into a rant about this romance series you were reading about a group of men who read romance to solve their romantic problems. Namjoon lost himself a little in the similarities between himself and the plot. Wasn’t he also reading romance to mold himself into a perfect man, albeit he was trying to woo the author herself, but still. However as you continued, he thought about how exceptionally stupid it was for him to even attempt to seek out something other than friendship with you.

It wasn’t as if he could just ask you out and take you on a date. He couldn’t hold your hand or kiss you under the lamplight of a rain soaked street. He only knew your first name and if your accent was any indication, you most likely didn’t live anywhere near him. Should he really try to start something if he knew for a fact that he couldn’t give you the romance that he knew you wished for?

Decision made, his nerves eased and he listened to your rants, discussing the novel he had never read. He couldn’t let his heart get involved. If you love someone, set them free, isn’t that what they said? Well he would set you free to meet the guy of your dreams. You didn’t actually like him, you had mentioned to him time and time again that the Namjoon in your stories wasn’t based of off the real one, and other than light teasing,  you had made no indication that you thought his alter ego ‘John’ was up to your standards either. No matter which persona he was, he didn’t fit you, so for the sake of the only freeing friendship he had, he decided it was better not to complicate things.

At least until you said your next words.

“Want to hear about my next story? I think I’m going to write my first idol fic. Something about the loneliness of fame, of how isolating it seems,” you pondered out loud, and Namjoon hated how much he already related to the story.

“Tell me about it. Fame fucking sucks,” he commented, momentarily forgetting his disguise.

“Are you famous, John?” you asked, a teasing grin visible over the line, making Namjoon contemplate whether to come clean. At 3am, his impulsivity was at an all time high so without any forethought of consequences, he hit the camera icon.

The screen split into two, the left side showing his dark room before he clicked on his bedside lamp. The bright light blinded him momentarily, his hand automatically rubbing his eye before he sheepishly looked at the camera. He heard nothing from you but could see your icon showing you were still on the call.

“Hi… umm I guess I’m kinda famous,” he said, laughing uncomfortably. The longer the silence went on, the more his nerves clawed at him, making him flush so deeply, he wished he could turn back time.

“What… the… fuck?”

He heard you whisper before the call disconnected. Staring at the chat, he tried to overcome the sudden wave of dejection at your rejection. It was a logical response. You had said multiple times you wished he never read your works, of course you were taken aback to learn about him, about who he really was. He should give you some time to catch up.

But patience was never Namjoon’s strong suit, so he messaged almost immediately.

john: please say something

You didn’t reply for an hour even when your icon had a tiny green circle next to it, indicating that you were still there.

yn: I am really really sorry about all the fics and the rude comments. I really didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable and I apologize if these conversations were creepy or disturbing. Just know that you are a great source of inspiration for me and I hope you keep making amazing music for me and other fans. Thank you so much for your hard work. I will delete my blog if you like and I won’t bother you again, john. yn: I mean Namjoon. yn: really sorry again. yn: also happy birthday!

Namjoon stared at his screen cursing at himself for ruining almost a year long friendship for a moment of loneliness. You had said you made him uncomfortable but he was sure that if anyone was uncomfortable it was you. Bracing himself, he decided to answer the only way he knew how. Honestly.

john: Please don’t apologize. You have never made me uncomfortable Y/N. Please believe me.  I really do enjoy your stories and talking to you. I would consider us friends if you’d have me.

As soon as he pressed enter he got a response. Only it wasn’t one he was expecting.

Your message could not be delivered. This is usually because you don't share a server with the recipient or the recipient is only accepting direct messages from friends. You can see the full list of reasons here: https://support.discord.com/hc/en-us/articles/360060145013

His hands shook as he wrote another message only to get the same message in return. After a year of friendship it seemed that he should’ve just hid his true self after all. Shutting his laptop, fell onto his back on the bed, lying to himself that he was okay and that it didn’t hurt.

Opening your blog on his phone, he was relieved to see it still up. Heart pounding in a last ditch effort, he raced to send you a message. Copy pasting his earlier words from discord, he hoped that this time they reached you.

He was ecstatic when the script under his text changed from delivered to seen, his heart soaring in the effervescence of hope. You never replied back, at least not till his eyes were scratchy from staring at the screen and his lids were heavy from sleep.

Kim Namjoon had a bad habit. But if he could salvage his friendship with you, he had no intentions of breaking it.

-

next

taglist -  @awhnamjoon​ @alpacaseoks @raplinesmoon @codeinebelle @aislinnstanaka@miscelunaaa @moonchild1 @shydestinyyouth @itsjaneeet @piecesofapril11@yoontaethings @jeonyreads @pb-n-juju @everythingaboutfangirling @jeonjungkookenthusiast1997

Thank you for reading this fic! If you liked it, please tell me your thoughts. I appreciate your feedback!

Please reblog and check out more stories on my masterlist <3

[harrysmimi]

Still Want You

Synopsis: Harry wants a restart but YN still feels guilty for what happened

More of my work | Based on this ask

I really hope you like this anon. Took me pong enough to write this.

PS. I haven't edited this cuz I am too lazy. I'm sowwyyy :(

Harry was nervous knocking on the door. He tugged on the neckline of his t-shirt as he dripped the small bouquet of red and white roses, a box of chocolate covered almonds and a small pack of cat treats.

He was there to see his favourite girl and his favourite boy ever.

It's been almost a year he has seen YN. He was finally ready to start over and get his life together, since past ten months he's had a great tour, released a new album and was back on a little break.

YN and Harry have been together for well over two years, inseparable and madly in love with one another. Harry loved the fact that she was his little secret that he so selfishly wanted to keep with him. Which unfortunately was one of the reason which drove them apart.

His breath hitched when she opened the door and first thing a white fluffy cat with big green eyes came to greet him. That was Prince, the cat he adopted for her for her birthday, he was (and his) their son. Prince loves Harry deeply to say the least.

"Harry?" Her voice was barely audible but he hear her nerves getting through her just loud enough. She is an anxious person, he knows that.

"YN!" He greeted her with a pleasant yet sad enough smile. She moved aside so he can come in and closed the door when he did.

It was a new place, just three streets away from the place he rented for them to move in together, as a surprise. It was small, just enough for a person and a pet. Everything looked dull and gloomy, there was just a bed with a pillow, and a sofa seperating the room into a living area and a bedroom. It was like her old flat she first moved into, but a little smaller and two rooms less as she shared that one with a roommate, there was a seperate living room at least.

YN got him a glass of water the first thing as he took a seat on the sofa. He could see she had set up her laptop up on the coffee table with a dozen unread emails and half eaten plate of Rice and Daal with a side of raw mango pickle. She sat on the other side of the sofa waiting patiently for him to start the conversation.

"I wanted to see you." He started to which she just smiled. "YN look I am sorry for what happened, but let's start all over again please!"

"I should be the one apologising." She looked at him with the same guilt he saw all those months ago.

It was months ago YN and Harry were starting have little arguments here and there. It was unusual for him. Yes, YN would have her bursts of frustration and anger here and there but Harry always made sure to be the mature one understanding the circumstances of situation. He'd be the one sitting her down and making her talk her mind and heart and share the same when she'd unknowingly hurt his feelings. He's always been patiently wonderful with that.

But they were both particularly bitter about the situations which were coming up one by one. It started with when YN wanted to bring home with her for her Diwali break. Even though her and her family did not celebrate it, they were willing to meet up with him and spend the holidays, even one of her cousin was getting married right after Diwali. It was a huge thing for YN, he knew that. But he had chosen to back down.

A festival and a wedding means there would be people, and where there are people, means there would be countless pictures and with his lifestyle, he prefers to keep his private life private. It means he wouldn't have been able to keep his dreamy little secret, a secret. He wanted to meet her family but in private. While her intentions were never vile, he knew the internet would ruin her mental peace.

But soon after they had to stop going out together on dates, to eat out. She had to stop being seen with him. Which made YN feel hurt.

She wanted to everything with Harry. Yeah, she was willing to endure everything given what came to be with him, hell she was even sceptical for weeks after he asked her out for the first time for the same thing! But once she was all in, she was willing to risk it all. She even put on an armer and spoke to her very strict brown parents about him.

YN was angry at him for months.

All she wanted was share what they had with not having to constantly look over their shoulders. And him protecting her got no where, still to this date she recieves nasty comments online. Even her LinkedIn profile is not safe for her to log into gor work.

Though she feels guilty for what she did. Despite her annoyance and frustration what she did was not right in any sense.

She was out with her colleagues and had kissed her colleague Harry hated the most, to which she came clean after whole three weeks. Just when Harry had cooked her an amazing meal and bought her favourite flowers to apologise for being so overly protective and to ask her to move in with him. She wasn't drunk that day, she has never touched alcohol in her life.

Just as YN was about to say something, her work phone started ringing. He somehow forgot she works from home most of the time and it wasn't a weekend. She excused herself to answer the ohone to ask to person to postpone whatever she had to do.

"I'm sorry about that," she placed the phone face down on the coffee table to look at him. YN still hasn't been able to forgive herself for what she did. She should have been mature and talk to him.

Since their time apart her life had a big down fall, and it's falling down in the blackhole some hell universe. She had switched her job, her family back home was going through hell and she couldn't go back because who would help her family if she went back home. Her grand dad had passed and their family business was crashing each passing day. Her dad and his brother could do so much with handling biggest loss of their life. She was going through a lot in that moment. But that does not justify her actions what so ever!

Harry told her, he needed some time. And by some she never thought it was be more then ten months and few rebounds later. They never officially broke up or even had that conversation. She deserved to see all that, she made herself believe that. She was more upset with herself than she was to be with him when they never actually called off anything. That was that.

"Have taken me long enough to come in and say that I accept your apologies." He spoke as he carefully tried to move closer to her. He doesn't want her to move away. "I was equally responsible for hurting you after the same."

Harry could see her relax a bit but stiffen up again, so he carefully moved closer to her. "Look we can at least be good friends." He softly spoke as he took her hand, still remembering the feeling like it was yesterday. Her hands still held that warmth he never forgot and they still felt tiny against his own.

YN let out a shaky breath. She have been trying. Trying so hard to get over little heartbreak, it was more harder than when she had her heart broken for the first time. She thought about being friends with him and actually trying to reconcile just so she can have a great person like him in her life again.

Alas she is a jealous person, and she can see him with anyone else. She don't want to be that toxic friend to anyone, so she had made up her mind that if Harry didn't wanted to be back with her she'd never ask to be at least his friend. She looked up at him through her lashes as tears filled her eyes.

"I can't." She admitted.

"Hey, come here!" He whispered as he wrapped his arm around her.

YN never thought she'd be so vulnerable after seeing him again. She had been preparing herself to be strong and act like she has grown much mature and not breakdown, but she did. "I am so sorry!" She started chanting in muffled voice, guilt of hurting him stil felt so saw like it happened just a minute ago.

"Hey, hey, you're fine, you're fine." He gently smoothed her hair as he rubbed her back.

"I still, I still can't get that out of my head!" She muffled again his shirt.

"It's gonna take time." He admitted, "but if you give us a chance, we can make it work. I promise will try my best love. It's been so hard to breathe without you."

"I cheated on you. I don't deserve you, you deserve someone so much better than me." She broke from the hug, a little frustrated maybe. At herself to be exact.

"So did I." He admitted too. Maybe it's not right to get together back again but he have seen being get through so much worse together. Maybe, just maybe they can work it out. Yes, they can work it out. "Told you need a break and did the same. Maybe this is wrong, to get back together. But maybe we could make it the best thing ever. I promise I won't try so hard to protect you from every little thing which comes with my profession."

"I still haven't forgiven myself, Harry," corners of her mouth quivered, "I haven't."

"You want some time, take as much time as you need. Still want you, my love. That's all."

She just nodded and they sat in silence for what felt like ages until YN broke the silence with her sniffles, she wiped her tears and looked at him. "You want some daal chawal?" She knows how much he loves that.

He let out a soft shy chuckle, "you know I am not going to say no."

"I'll get you a plate." He nodded and walked to the kitchen.

......................................................................

It was four months later. YN and Harry started to talk more recently and back together officially, giving one another time they need.

It wasn't until just just on Sunday YN agreed to go on a date with him for next weekend, her day off. He was going to take her see Niall at the Wembley. It was Monday and Harry couldn't wait already.

Waiting for Saturday and going to studio like a torture to him for the first time. He haven't got to see YN much since he visited her, she had been busy with her work. Apparently she was getting a promotion, she'd be the youngest senior manager at her firm and the pressure was too much so he did not wanted to be in her way. But they spoke, stayed on phone calls on her lunch break and texted throughout the day as both of them got free time. Late replies did mot seemed so bad after all now.

It was finally Saturday and Harry was there to pick up YN at her flat. He was all stocked up on the water bottles as it was hot, he knew she wanted to stand in the merch line and buy almost every single thing even though she can get everything delivered to her doorstep on her one command. She is a true Niall fan. He still remembers the first time she got to meet Niall, she was freaking out and now they've become best of friends.

"Hello my love." He greeted her as she opened the door.

"I am so sorry, I forgot to send this important file that why I am late." She anxious ran to her bathroom to where he followed her.

"It's alright love, the show doesn't start for next six hours." He assured her. "And knowing Niall, it won't start for next ten, so don't worry about it." She laughed at that comment.

She was wearing a pair of baggy jeans and a large white shirt keeping it simple and cute, should he add. She had her hair in a braid and put on a pair of silver hoops. And they were ready to go. "Oh we're matching!"

"Oh yeah!" He realised.

She rolled her eyes, "when are you going to stop copying me." He just chuckled and walked a step forward to place a soft peck on the back of her head.

"Never." He mumbled taking in the smell of her shampoo."You look very pretty, love when you wear Kajal."

"I am going to look like a panda real quick." She grabbed her glasses off the counter and put them on.

"A gorgeous panda, might I add." He added and recieved a elbow to his rib before they both fell in fit of laugh. She grabbed her sling bag on the way out. But Harry stopped her at the exit of her building.

"Before we walk out, I have to tell you something." He let out a anxious breath. "We are taking Sam with us, just to be safe, okay? Don't want anyone of us getting hurt unknowingly."

"Okay." She nodded. Well that's understandable, if not for her, for him at least. No one knows her there but every fucking one knows him there. Once they walked out of the building, he found he even got a chauffeur for the day.

"Oh yeah, one more thing." He reached the back pocket his jeans and pulled out a tennis bracelet.

It was the Tiffany bracelet he got her one random day just because, and she wore it every single day no matter if it went with her outfit or not since then. He recieved that back when she returned all his stuff back to him with all of his hoodies and the tad bits of gift he gave her.

"You still kept it?" She looked rather surprised.

"Of course I kept it, know how much you cherish this." He gently grabbed her hand and placed the bracelet around her wrist, he tried to approach her with a kiss but she cuddle close to him swiftly dodging the moment. He just needs to give her some time so he settled with placing a gentle peck on her head.

They reached the venue in half an hour, stood in the line to buy the merch and just making it in time for lunch with Niall. YN did not expect Harry to get VIP passes, even though the performer is literally his best friend. She still did not expected to go to a concert with VIP passes. Yes she saw Harry perform multiple times but it was with his family in the privacy box standing by the side of the stage. This was whole knew experience for her. They were going to the VIP tent there with Niall's mum and girlfriend.

"Be careful here." Harry grabbed her hand as he guided her through the metal walkway around the stage to the pit area where the tent was. He knows these things are nasty slippery even through they have little bumps on them which are supposed to be slip resistant.

The whole evening Harry wasn't afraid of how people would treat the girl he loves so much. He wasn't afraid of hold her thinking about all the nasty things people might say. He sang and danced all evening along with her with his best friend performing there. It was when Niall was playing This Town with his guitar trapped on, at the end of the cat walk.

Harry's got his arms around the girl he adore so much to sing along, just so she can hear him. "If the whole world was watching, I'd still dance with you. Drive highways and byways to be there with you, over and over the only truth, everything come back to you." That made her turn her head around to look at him, he couldn't hold back the bright smile as he placed a kiss on the apple of her cheek, "you still make me nervous when you walk in the room, them butterflies they come alive when I'm next to you, over and over the only truth everything comes back to you, hmmm!" YN leaned into him there. She could start crying.

"You wanna take a picture?" He suggested as the song ended.

"Oh yes!" YN pulled out her phone from her bag and the posed for a few selfies and Harry clicked a few pictures of her while Niall was in between set change.

After the show, Harry her took her to her favourite place for dinner. And that was about the night before he drive her back to her place with all the merch she bought.

......................................................................

It was a few more months later.

YN mostly worked from home, she only ever had to go to work if there was a meeting or briefing to be done. It was one of those days for her, but more important somehow. Her day at work ended at three in the afternoon as she was early reporting to work. She had taken in a cab there as her car at the service centre. So Harry decided to go pick her up.

Harry waited for her outside her work building as he couldn't go in because the security won't let him in without an ID. He don't have that obviously, because he is not an employee there and he knew YN was done anyway so he didn't mind waiting for her by his car. He was dressed all comfy in a pair of sweats and puffer with a beanie on his head. It was November already and getting colder already.

YN did not liked Mondays, that's what he knew really. But this particular Monday she was very giddy and got up at six in the morning and reported to work at eight sharp. He wasn't sure what was so special about today but she seemed very ecstatic about it.

"Harry!" He hear his name as she ran out of the door, dressed in a baby pink suit and her black coat on top of it with her laptop bag slung around her right shoulder. The first thing she did was jump in his arms to place a firm kiss on his mouth. Taking Harry by utter shock. It was the first time they kissed, he did not mind it, he rather loved it actually. "I. Got. The promotion!" She squealed stomping like a little toddler. He could see little tears of joy in corner of her eyes.

"Oh my goodness!" He was surprised to hear that too, she has been after this promotion for so long, "I am so proud of you baby!" He pulled her in a warm hug. He had seen her obsess about this project wanting it to be perfect for one of the biggest clients in her firm, followed by which she would happen her promotion.

"You are?" She cooed, sounding like she'd cry.

"Yes baby, I am!" He exclaimed as he squeezed her tighter, "so, so, so proud of you my love!" He carefully pulled apart enough to look at her. "You deserved it." He placed a kiss on her forehead. She just buried her face in his chest.

"I need to call Mumma." She chuckled as she pulled away to wipe her tears.

"Yeah?" He smiled, "give me this, call you mum." He grabbed her laptop bag and proceeded to place it on the back seat as she made her way to the passenger seat calling her mother already.

They had the day planned out already, they were going to go to his place. The new place he got just a month ago in a more gated area with more security for her personal safety.

"You kissed me." Harry said as he closed his front door, she had already taken off her coat. His puffer was already off in the car itself.

"Yes..." YN nodded anxiously, "I am sorry if you didn't wanted me to."

"Are you kidding me? I've been dying to kiss you my love!" He took a big step towards her as he grabbed her by her waist to place a gentle kiss on her mouth. "Oh I've missed this!" He place another feathery kiss on corner of her mouth, he could feel her melt in his arms there as her knees almost gave in. With his arm on her back and behind her knees he picked her up as he spun her around.

......................................................................

It was another day of celebration for YN as she was able get another big project in to the firm just a year after her promotion, her superior arranged a little dinner party for her. It was a very formal event, with the CEO and all the vice presidents present there. Of course she took Harry with him.

Harry had drove YN back to her place his place as they planned last minute on spending the weekend in at his. They both changed into some comfy clothes.  Luckily Harry kept all of her clothes as they were.

They both got comfy on the sofa. "Need some water." Harry got up from his place and walked in the kitchen. The kitchen at his new was surprised put of sight from living room and it was weirdly quite at his, except Prince snoring next to her. Harry was watching him for the day while YN was at work. He had a blast the three hours Harry was at the dinner with her, running around the house that he passed out on the sofa there.

Harry came back, acting a bit fiddly. He watched as YN flipped through Netflix. He knew he have to do this. He wants to do this.

He placed a kiss on her mouth before he got on both his knees with her hands in his, their laced finger layed on her lap. He had to resist himself from giving her get another kiss or he would forget to say what he is going to say.

"What happened?" She asked looking at him confused.

"I've got say something." He started with a bright smile and flushed cheeks. "Rather I've got something to ask you."

"If you're asking me to move in, then not until—"

"We get married, I know." He interrupted her, "I actually wanted to ask you, will you marry me? You don't have to answer now, take as much time as possible. As long as it takes, I still want you." He could feel his heart thumping in his ears.

"You are serious with this?" She asked in a low voice, not believing what is happening, as her eyes welled up with tears. "You want to get married?"

"Yes, I am damn serious about this." He announced. "I want to get married."

"Yes, I will marry you Harry!" She exclaimed as pulled him in for a hug. Suddenly there were claps heard from the kitchen as her family and Harry's family walked out. "What the—" she hid her face in Harry's shirt as she knew her kajal was all messed up already, Gemma was recording this. Harry laughed as he looked at her face and helped her fix her face, wiping her tears with the sleeve of white shirt he wore.

"It's okay, your cute panda face is just for me to see." He whispered to her making her chuckle.

"It's official now!" YN's mum announced. It was just their immediate family. Harry's parents and his sister, her parents and her brothers. And they knew there was going to be a proper engagement ceremony done, not today but someday.

Harry wanted to give YN a heads up, given the fact how their relationship took a turn and how hard it was mend things and beat the odds. He didn't expected her to say yes then and there but he was prepared with a ring. Anne handed him the ring he had custom made just for his girl.

"Want to make it official, official." He opened the box to reveals a beautiful ring, which he took time in sliding onto her finger.

"Even we have a surprise for you." YN's brother announced as he handed his sister a box too. It was a platinum band in there. Just a cultural thing where it is permissible for men to wear gold or jewels, Harry respects that. He knows they are going to have a proper engagement ceremony planned out in future all abiding by her cultural rituals. This was just for family and their eyes only.

She slid the ring on his finger too. And they were officially, officially engaged now.

This wasn't something Harry imagined would ever happen.

......................................................................

N O T E :

Well... Had this in my inbox for a while while now. I am so so so sorry this took forever to post! 🤧 Hope you liked it. Ik I'm a bit rusty that I haven't wrote anything since like January.

I love you xx

[bl4cktourmaline]

🍙﹒星 — day 4 featuring tenma tsukasa

knock knock!

heres some mail!

ଘ(੭´꒳`)°* ੈ‧₊ 💌

⌨️ᶻᶻᶻ...nian-7 is typing... ♡

↻ᴹᵉˢˢᵃᵍᵉ ˡᵒᵃᵈᵉᵈ !

❝sooo.. i know i don't really know mango very well but seeing as tsukasa is on their favorite characters how about tsukasa for their birthday event for slot 4? <3 ❞

━━❝I love hearing your voice even when we are so far away from each other❞

You loved being somewhere different. The scenery was gorgeous, the food was amazing, and the new fashion? You were in love with all of it… The diversity in clothing styles, makeup styles, and hairstyles was everything you wanted to see. 

You were glad to take the chance you’ve been dying for… But, something wasn’t right.

It was quiet. Too quiet.

You loved the rare quietness you got from time to time… But, being somewhere totally new with nobody was isolating.

Of course, there were other classmates, but they weren’t considerable as friends.

There were many friends back at home and it was never lonely. Hanging out with friends was awesome, but what was more awesome was being with him…

You sighed, reviewing the pictures you took on your camera on your laptop. ‘Who knew taking pictures all day was such an exhausting thing…’

As much as it was boring, it was also slightly entertaining to see where your day led you. Plus, you had many pictures to show your friends once you got home.

Call it unprepared, but you didn’t realize that you would need to purchase cellular internet for another country. So, you were offline for the next week until you could get the chance to make a plan.

Falling backward into the chair, you groan. “This sucks…”

Ring!

You jolted upwards, looking around the room. “What the hell?”

The noise was heard again, and it came from the hotel phone. You laughed softly before scooting the chair backward and stood up, walking towards the phone.

You pick the phone up and hold it to your ear. “Hello?”

“Ah- I finally got it!” The voice on the other end exclaimed.

Eyebrows furrowed, you tilt your head to the side slightly. Laughing awkwardly, “Who is this?”

“You don’t recognize the sound of my terrific and mighty voice, co-star!?”

…

“Tsukasa!”

“AHA! You guessed right, my amazing co-star! I can never get anything past you!.”

“Wait,” You paused. “How did you find my room’s number? I couldn’t even text anyone!”

It took a moment for Tsukasa to answer. “I asked your instructor what hotel you were staying at! The process was long but unimportant! What matters now is that we are speaking!”

You laughed at him with a small smile, sitting on the bed.

“Everybody has been missing you, my co-star!”

“Now?”

Even though you couldn’t see him, the smile on his face was screaming from the other end of the phone. “Of course! I wouldn’t dare lie to you!”

“Oh no, of course you wouldn’t.”

Tsukasa suddenly sighed. “I can’t believe you had forgotten the fact you had to buy a new plan when you left the country!”

“It slipped my mind…” You sighed, rubbing the side of your head. “I was busy planning everything else! I would have gotten the international plan for the time being if I remembered!”

“That’s why you should have a bright calendar like me!” He beamed. “Every shining star must have one, you know?”

“I’ll be sure to get a calendar once I’m home,” You smiled.

It was silent for a moment until Tsukasa mumbled something softly.

“Hm?”

“How is it there!?” He asked loudly, causing you to drag the phone away for a moment then back to your face.

“It’s honestly so nice here,” You explained. “It’s so beautiful. The sites are amazing and- I wish I could show you and everyone else. But- the culture here is fascinating! I had gotten the chance to speak to some locals and some traditional clothing stores and I’ve gotten a great chunk of history on some of the culture here! Oh and also- the food is so tasty!”

Tsukasa listened quietly with delight as you continuously spoke about the new place you had been staying at. He liked how much you loved the new place and how passionate you were about it…

“Sounds fun… We and our friends should all go to the shining future together!”

You laughed with a smile and nodded. “I think we should too- oh, but I have to go soon. I need to finish up some homework before tomorrow.”

“Oh. Of course! A light has to do their work to make sure they can truly become the shining stars they’re made to be! Just like me!”

“You get it.”

The silence came back. It felt like he had something to say but at the same time, not really… It was hard to tell…

“Co-star?”

You hummed a small tune in response.

“I love hearing your voice.”

You were silent, still smiling, before becoming confused. “Huh?”

“I truly love hearing your voice whenever I can,” He softly said, contrasting with how he usually spoke. “I love hearing your voice even when we are so far apart. It’s comforting to hear! Not as comforting as mine but-”

You burst into a small laughter before he could finish his sentence. “You’re so sweet, Tsukasa. I honestly feel the same about you… it’s pretty quiet and lonely without hearing your voice every so often,” You breathed out a laugh.

It was silent again but felt more complete. “I’m glad you feel the same way!” He laughed. “Nobody can get enough of the star! It’s an after-star effect!”

“What the heck is that?”

“The effect after seeing someone amazing on stage who was truly so amazing you want to see more of them!”

You laughed again with a fond laugh on your face.

…

“Well, I should let you get back to work now, huh co-star?”

“It’s probably for the best,” You shrugged. “Call me tomorrow around this time again. I’ll make sure to finish my work early so we can talk for longer.”

Tsukasa laughed. “Alright! Farewell, my amazing co-star! I shall speak to you tomorrow!”

“Goodbye Tsukasa.”

You put the phone down before pausing, just remembering the conversation then laughed. How much of a dork he was…

(っ'-')╮=͟͟͞͞💌 You receive a letter from Mango!

↻ᴹᵉˢˢᵃᵍᵉ ˡᵒᵃᵈᵉᵈ !

𝐍𝐨𝐰 𝐥𝐨𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠. . .

i hardly write on this blog but i hope to change that soon TT i love writing for tsukasa he is so silly 🩷 HEHHE

[lunathebee]

Pairing: Steven Grant x fem!reader

Warning: none just cheesy fluff

A/n: I love lego flowers so much but its so heckin expensive in my country ugh, i changed the plot a tiny bit if u dont mind @spicydonut25

Summary: Y/n brings the perfect gift for Steven on their date.

Meeting Steven was strange, and dating him is even stranger. The British man seems to drive Y/n crazy (in the best way possible) because he doesn't fit in any male category that the internet offers.

Y/n's eyes are starting to get tired from looking at the laptop's screen, scrolling mindlessly through the lists of gifts that everyone thinks are good ideals for a man. But they're all wrong! This is not any man; this is Steven! For God's sake, he doesn't need perfume or a pair of sneakers.

Y/n cursed under her breath. She wants to get the perfect gift for Steven; the poor guy should keep a random trinket she found at his table like a lucky charm.

*ting*

The sound catches Y/n's attention. Quickly tossing the laptop aside, she reaches for the phone to see what's up.

*Hi Im just texting to make sure our date are on Friday 7pm this week yea?*

It seems to be a text from Steven himself; he always wants to double check everything and tries his best to be on time. Y/n can't help smiling while tapping the screen and typing back a reply.

*Yep, im looking forward to meet u soon <3*

Steven replied almost immediately after, but instead of making Y/n happy, it made her stomach churn with anxiety.

*Me too, got a small surprise for you*

Y/n sighed tiredly; she can't believe Steven had already gotten her a present, and here she is, on her bed, with a blank mind. Would a new jacket do the trick? or a bag? or maybe something for little Gus.

Y/n returns to scrolling on her laptop, looking at the many items that flash on the shopping website. And just when she thinks her luck has run out, she notices something. 

Lego.

Not only Lego, but Lego's flowers! The store even had the flowers that Steven gifted Y/n on their first date, the type of flowers that Steven was so determined to get that he ran to five different stores to find them and almost missed the date.

Y/n smiles to herself while thinking back on the memories. This sure would be a very thoughtful gift for Steven, and plus, his desk will look better with it as a decoration (not a random trinket).

Feeling satisfied, Y/n added the lego set to her cart and completed the payment, thinking about how happy her lover would be.

===☾︎ ☾︎ ☾︎===

"You're early!" Y/n exclaimed when she arrived at the spot and already saw Steven sitting there, waiting for her. "Traffic is terrible; I should have left the house earlier."

"No, no, it's alright, you're right on time." Steven smiled and stood up to hug Y/n, sneaking in a quick kiss on her cheek too.

"Oh and here," Steven said, letting go of his lover and reaching into the pocket, pulling something out to show. "A present, as promised."

It was a beige box with silk ribbon wrapped around it, forming a bow. Y/n's face lit up when she eagerly took the box from Steven's hand, quickly unwrapping it. "A keychain! of my favorite animal!" Y/n said out loud before holding it near her eyes, seeing how the glitter sparkled under the street light.

Steven swears it's the most beautiful sight ever, seeing how excited Y/n is over his small gift. It's not very exaggerated to say he is a bar of ice cream and Y/n is the sun, the way he melted for her but still wants to admire her forever.

"Oh, I've got something for you too!" Y/n held up a paper bag and smiled shyly. "It arrived a bit late, so I don't have time to wrap it properly, sorry."

Steven mumbled a quick "it's okay" before saying thank you and taking the bag from Y/n's hand. The moment he looks inside to see what it is, his eyes widen with shock.

"A..No way! Is this for me, darling? Lego?! Oh, hang on now, let me take a better look...Lego's flower! Oh...wow.." Steven can't help his excitement upon seeing the gift; he had seen some kids bring some sort of blocky toy like this to the museum but never dared ask what it is.

"So this is... popular among kids, right?" He asked, fingers trading the display picture of the box.

"Hmm, I would say so, but this one is for adults; it contains a lot of pieces."

"Oh geez, I appreciate it, but why don't you just buy something cheaper? Like...real flowers? I love anything, as long as it's from you." Steven blushed while saying this and looked down at his lap; he has this bad habit of avoiding eye contact whenever he is nervous and can't seem to quit it.

But Y/n never mind; instead of getting mad, she put her hand on Steven's cheek, slowly guiding his head so that he looked at her.

"Real flowers will wither, but this one won't; it will stay forever, like my love for you."

[sigritandtheelves]

All Along, Like Fire (Part 7)

FINAL PART!

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6

Mature | 3.4k words | MSR, AU

—

October 13, 1995

Mulder sat alone in his apartment, head in his hands, staring at the floor and thinking. Diana was gone—her things gone, most of the furniture, even the crock pot his mother gave them for their wedding. He wanted to believe that all of this wasn’t his fault, but he felt like a failure for the way their marriage had ended. And for the decisions he’d been forced to make because of it. At his feet was a lone cardboard box of photocopies, the most important documents he was able to salvage. It was the all he had left of the X-Files.

His clothes were also boxed up, along with his books, his trophies, his diplomas and knickknacks. Tomorrow morning, a moving truck would arrive, and he would say goodbye to this place forever. He wasn’t sorry. Just sad, a little ashamed. He’d let Diana make a fool of him here, let her seduce truths out of him while he was blindly manipulated for years. He’d planned to sulk alone until it was time to load the truck, but a knock on the door startled him. He opened it to three familiar faces.

“Well well well,” Frohike said. “If it isn’t the spooky birthday boy on Friday the 13th.” The little man shoved a bottle of Jack Daniels into Mulder’s chest and pushed into the apartment.

“Happy Birthday, man.” This from Langly who toted three pizzas, which he tossed onto the coffee table. Byers echoed the sentiment, carrying a mysterious white box under his arm.

“What are you guys doing here?” Mulder asked, not unkindly.

“Couldn’t let you sit alone on your birthday, could we? We’ve got a lot to celebrate.”

“We do?”

Frohike was digging around in the kitchen cabinet for glasses, but they were almost all packed away. He settled for a quartet of coffee mugs and plastic novelty cups. “Yes! Imminent divorce and new beginnings! Fighting the good fight!” He carried the dishes in and passed them around.

“We’re gonna miss you, Mulder,” Byers said. “But we all agree this is a good step. You can do some really good work this way.”

“Then why do I feel so crappy?” Mulder poured shots of the Jack Daniels into the mismatched cups.

“When’s the last time you saw Scully?” Langley asked, flipping open the first pizza and digging in for a slice.

“Last week.” Mulder frowned.

“Well, there’s your answer. Cheers.” Frohike knocked mugs with Mulder and threw back a shot. “All in good time, my man.”

Mulder downed his shot with a wince and reached for a slice of pizza. “What’s in the box?”

Langley waggled his eyebrows. “Goodies,” he said.

“Open it up,” Byers tapped the lid of the unmarked container.

Inside were several gadgets, one of which looked like a large gray brick, and at least two bulky phones with fat antennas.

Byers explained, “Those are hacked satellite phones that will connect from anywhere. They’re essentially untraceable and should hold their battery for several days between charges. Good for off-grid work.”

Langley was too excited to wait for him to ask about the brick. “And this one’s a hacked satellite modem. You’ll have internet no matter how remote you are. New tech, definitely not consumer hardware.”

“So you can stay in touch,” Byers added.

At the bottom of the box was a new laptop, which Mulder was sure had a range of nonstandard additions and upgrades.

“And we’re gonna come out to visit,” Frohike said. “Soon. Maybe this winter if that’s okay.” If Mulder didn’t know better, he’d think the man was choking up. He was touched, and another wave of sadness washed over him.

“Thanks guys,” he said, voice thick.

—

San Diego, CA

The warm California air made Scully think of her childhood—fond memories with Melissa on base housing, sticky summers when freckles appeared on all the Scully children’s noses. She drove up in front of a small house that was so like the one in which she’d spent those years. She double checked the address against the one on her paper; it was right, though she couldn’t imagine this unassuming abode as the site of any secret research. There was a small garden out front, wind chimes hanging from the porch roof. She breathed in deeply. There was no reason not to go in now except the terrifying thundering of her heart and the sense that there was no going back after this. She opened the driver’s side door and got out.

On the porch, she was greeted by two unsmiling men—not hired muscle, she thought. Maybe doctors in plainclothes to blend in with the suburban atmosphere. They wore khakis and polo shirts and the looked around, suspicious, before letting her in. Beyond the foyer, the inside of the house couldn’t be any more different than its outside. It was sterile, white, and filled with beeping machines and medical equipment.

“This way,” one of the men said. He led her up the stairs to the second floor landing, where a woman in scrubs was backing out of a room, closing the door behind her. The man led Scully to the left, to an open bedroom door that was just as sterile, just as white as the downstairs. Here, though, a crib sat in the corner—also white—with a mobile of farm animals hanging over it. In the center of the room stood Diana Fowley. Scully’s eyes ping-ponged between the crib and the woman she didn’t trust at all.

“Agent Scully,” Diana said.

“Not anymore.”

The other woman’s mouth twitched into a smile. “Right, of course.”

“Where is she?” Scully’s heart was pounding, and she wouldn’t allow herself to think about what—or who—was behind the other doors of this nightmare suburban experiment.

“In the crib,” Diana said, stepping aside to let Scully see. “She’s sleeping.”

Scully took three steps closer. She couldn’t breathe. As she approached, she saw a tiny figure in a onesie covered in stars, little fingers curled into fists on either side of her auburn head. “Oh my god,” she whispered.

The child looked perfect. She moved her lips into a subtle dreamy frown, and her long lashes lay against pink cheeks. Scully bent over to lay a hand on the baby’s chest, to feel the movement of her steady breathing and the tiny flutter of her heart.

“You can pick her up,” Diana said. “She’s yours now.”

Tears were blurring Scully’s vision. She tried to blink them away, but one slid down her cheek. She swiped it quickly. “And she’s well now? She won’t get sick?”

“She’s healthy,” Diana confirmed. “But she’s chipped. Like you are.”

A brief wave of anger flared through Scully, but she swallowed it down. She knew what she’d bargained for. She’d accepted the price. She brushed a finger against the baby’s cheek, and the child turned into it, as though seeking out comfort. “Does she have a name?”

“The nurses were calling her Emily, so that’s the name we put on the paperwork. You could change it, but that might take some time.”

Scully shook her head. “No,” she said. “No, I like Emily.” She couldn’t imagine giving up a single minute with this baby for the sake of another hoop she’d have to jump through. She swallowed hard against the lump in her throat, then reached both hands into the crib to scoop the child up. Emily wrinkled her little nose and let out a whimper, but didn’t wake. Scully held the baby against her chest, buried her nose in the impossibly soft skin of her neck, her downy head.

“Hello Emily,” she said, and closed her eyes against the enormity of it.

—

Traveling with an infant was a new experience for Scully, and not easy while alone. She was terrified that the baby would stop breathing in the back seat while they drove, that she’d be too hot, too cold, too hungry. But little Emily seemed happy enough, and slept for much of the first day’s drive. Scully had bought a pack-and-play, formula, bottles, and diaper packages in two sizes. Instant motherhood was even more frightening than leaving the job she’d worked so hard to prove herself in.

At a rest stop in Santa Rosa to change the baby and get some caffeine, Scully discovered something hard buried in the package of clothes Diana had sent with her. It was a small cryo-package containing three vials. One was clearly blood: Emily’s, she thought, dated July of this year. Before she’d been cured. Another was mysteriously green and unlabeled. The third looked familiar, an amber liquid she’d seen before. It was labeled Purity - 3.9506. A dated code: the current iteration of the vaccine. She almost didn’t notice the note tucked below the package:

         To get you started.

                   - DF

Scully wanted to hate Diana, but she found herself unable to conjure the same fury she’d felt last year. This was a gift that Diana taken great risks to provide. Whatever bargain she’d made to keep herself safe, it was clear that the woman was still ensnared by the Syndicate’s poisoned grasp. Scully allowed herself to feel grateful to her, despite everything she’d done. Scully placed the vials back in the chamber and made a note to store them with her own recovered ova. Emily had woken up when the car stopped moving, and was beginning to fuss. Scully shoved the clean onesie into the diaper bag and unbuckled the baby, hushing softly to her and humming.

“Shh, it’s okay,” she murmured.

Scully was unaccustomed to the number of strangers’ smiles that greeted them. An elderly couple stopped to coo over the chubby infant, to remark how like her mother she was. Scully’s smile was tight-lipped and nervous. They weren’t wrong—the child did look like her. She had the same blue eyes, the same fair coloring. She tucked Emily’s warm little body against her chest and nuzzled her head.

“Let’s get you some food, hmm?”

By the third and final day of driving, fear had turned overwhelmingly to love. When the baby woke in the morning light, she greeted Scully with a wide, two-toothed grin. She sat up in her pack-and-play and pushed at the mesh sides.

“Good morning!” Scully laughed and felt a flood of warmth accompany her own smile. The little girl babbled a steady “yah yah yah.”

They had six more hours on the road, and then a whole new life ahead of them.

—

Lummi Island, WA

October 20, 1995

Beyond the mainland, the salt air reminded Mulder of chill mornings on the Vineyard. He could go fishing here, or watch the sunrise from a boat, every day if he wanted. Though the coastline and the island were different from the ones where he’d grown up, the place felt like home. The closer he drew to his final destination, the more the melancholy that had clung to him in the last two weeks melted away. He was nervous, but it felt more like excitement than anxiety now. He fiddled with the radio—there wasn’t much signal to pick up on the island, but he needed something to fidget with. The anticipation was almost unbearable.

He rounded a grove of trees and finally caught sight of the little house up a short driveway: blue clapboard, a tiny porch, a brown shingled roof over the cozy two-story cottage. He pulled up alongside a white fence—honest-to-god picket—and climbed out, stretching his limbs with a massive heave of his chest outward.

This was it. This was home, now.

The front door of the house opened, and he felt his heart stutter, then swell. There she was. There they both were.  Dana Scully walked toward him with an impossibly cute baby on her hip, smiling broadly in jeans and a woolen sweater.

Mulder couldn’t help the grin that broke out over his face. He pushed through the waist-high gate and walked up onto the porch.

“There are my girls,” he said.

Scully blushed. “You made it.”

“I did,” he said as he reached them. He leaned down to kiss the woman he’d ached for over two long weeks. Her lips were soft and sweet, and her eyes dropped closed at the contact. He cupped her cheek, curled his other hand at her waist, and felt the pull of her middle toward his. “I missed you,” he said into her mouth.

Scully breathed deeply, eyes still closed for a moment, and nodded. Then he turned his attention to the baby.

“And you must be Emily.” The infant eyed him curiously and reached a finger out to touch his nose. “Hi baby.” She pulled the hand back and tucked two fingers into her wet mouth. Mulder booped her own nose in return, which earned him a shy half-smile as she tucked her head against Scully’s neck. “She looks just like you said. Just as perfect.” Mulder palmed the baby’s downy head, where blonde hair was growing in soft and fair. The little girl didn’t pull back or object, just watched him with something like awe.

“She’s been really good,” Scully explained. “I think she’s only cried twice since I brought her here. I mean she fusses, but…” Scully shrugged.

Mulder tickled the baby’s belly, and reached into his jacket pocket. He pulled out a tiny stuffed fox about the size of his hand, and Emily’s eyes went wide. “You like him? That’s Mr. Fox.” He handed over the toy, which Emily grasped with both hands. “He’s like me.”

Emily pressed her little fingers into the fox’s button eyes, her tiny fingernails scritching at the plastic.  Then she brought the fox’s head toward her mouth and bit down on the pointy nose.

Scully laughed. “She likes it.”

Mulder bent to kiss the top of the child’s head, then added another to Scully’s head for good measure. “Let’s go inside, hmm? I can’t wait to see how it looks in person.”

—

Later that night they lay facing each other on her bed—their bed now, Scully realized, and the thought made her heart beat faster. They were tucked under quilts and printed flannel sheets against the autumn chill. Emily slept in the second tiny bedroom next door, warm and safe with a mobile of colorful planets and her little fox beside her.

Scully felt the momentousness of this night, now that it was just them, now that they were really together. She found herself watching Mulder for doubts, for guilt, for regret. She held her own small sorrows: leaving her mother, leaving her job. But she feared most that Mulder would come to resent her for the loss of their work in D.C., their resources, their allies inside, as it were.

Mulder pursed his lips in a frown. “What are you thinking?” he asked.

Everything, everything. Her mind was spinning: What if we fail? What if we lose her? What if they take back the bargain and come for us all in the night? What if you never forgive me? But Scully just shook her head. It felt like too much to talk about now. “It’s nothing. It’s okay.”

She knew he wouldn’t believe her, and he didn’t. He moved his face closer to hers on the pillow. “It’s not nothing.”

Scully’s fingers fidgeted under the blanket. She heaved a deep sigh, and decided not to begin their new life by hiding things, by keeping anything bottled up. “I know we have a plan,” she said. “I know we’re not giving up and that our work will just be different here, but… it’s pretty enormous change—all of this. You must have doubts. I just don’t want you to… regret this. Because of me.”

Mulder was quiet for a long moment, his brow furrowed in thought. “I understand why you might think that,” he said finally. “I know that in a lot of ways, this feels crazy.”

It did, Scully conceded. Two months ago, they woke up in their separate city apartments and put on suits to go to work for the government. Mulder was married to another woman. Now they were on a remote island off the west coast, with a baby for god’s sake, planning a resistance to a global colonization in secret. Their lives couldn’t be more different.

Mulder reached an arm across the space between them and took hold of her hand under the blanket. “It’s hard for me to explain why, but this feels right.” She could barely make out his features in the dim light, but she sensed how serious his face was, how intense his look. “Scully, all of this started for me, because my family lost a little girl, and it ripped us apart. I lost her. I lost my family. I needed something to fill that emptiness, and I did it with work, which I thought might help me find her again. I wanted so badly to fix what happened to us.”

Scully nodded. She felt her chin wobble at the profundity in the pause between his words.

“But the same evil that took my sister also gave me another little girl. And it gave me you.” He squeezed her hand. “I still need to know what happened to Samantha after my father used her as a bargaining chip. And I will find out. That hasn’t changed.” He swallowed hard, and Scully wanted very badly to lean over and kiss comfort into him. “But this,” he motioned between them, “is a real chance at family, and that’s something I never thought I could have again, not even with Diana. I don’t know what kind of father I might make, if that’s even what you want from me. I didn’t have a good role model. But… I want us to try.”

Tears were dripping down Scully’s nose now into the flannel pillowcase, and she found it hard to speak. She sniffed. Nodded. Bent her forehead to touch his. “I want that too,” she managed to say. “And I want… Emily to think of you as her father. If that’s okay, I mean. If you want it.” She shook her head at her nervous rambling. “I just know you’d be a really good dad.”

Mulder nuzzled her nose with his own , unmindful of the damp. Then he tipped his chin to kiss her lips, sliding his arm around her middle and pulling her toward him. They held each other tight in the near-dark. “Yeah,” he croaked, and Scully realized he was on the verge of tears, too. “I want that.”

Her head fit perfectly, tucked under his chin. Her face pressed against his t-shirt where she could feel his heart beating, and she pressed a kiss there. She pushed one knee between his and breathed deep, letting the smell of him, of them together, fill her with warmth and need. God, she loved him so much. It was like she’d been holding her breath her whole life, and now she was gulping in oxygen. She knew, then, that they would make this work.

“Well,” Mulder said, his tone lighter now, “if I am any good at it, we’ve got all those little frozen uber-Scullys in storage. Maybe we’ll just make a whole tribe, huh?” His hand was on her waist, and he slipped it between them to poke her belly.

She laughed through her tears, nodding. “Yeah, maybe we will.”

And then he was kissing her and she was kissing him back and it was getting too hot under the blankets for all these pajamas. They were hungry for each other. He touched her like she was the only thing he’d ever wanted, like this was the only thing that mattered. They made love in tear-streaked desperation: clutching, dizzy love—though they were quiet and mindful not to wake the baby (their baby) with too much noise. After, when they’d slept an hour or so, he woke her gently with more kisses. This time their lovemaking was slow and gentle and reverent—like they had the rest of their lives.

— END —

A/N: I had many ideas about what their big plan was to save the world, how they’d build a network of allies through the Hosteens (and the Lummi people that they are so close to now), because who better to help them survive colonization than the people who have already survived it? But this ending also felt right and I think I’m happy with it. Thank you so so so much to everyone who has read and left hearts and kudos and comments. This was supposed to be a one-off little thing. It’s no novel, but it’s more than I’ve been able to write in a while.