#finding my groove again | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

baronessblixen · 6 months

Text

And May All Your Wishes Come True

Day three: Christmas list/wishes

I'm doing the 24 Days of X-Mas Files Challenge that msrafterdark posted!

Summary: What's Mulder's wish for Christmas? (fluff, wc: 1,395)

Tagging @today-in-fic

They are finishing up their latest case at the police station, with Scully filling out forms and both of them waiting for the social worker. Once more, the case has turned out not to be an x-files; rather than suspected werewolves, they’ve busted a cult that believed in human sacrifices to be performed at full moon. And not just any human sacrifices either.

Children.

There were so many children hidden away. Some who their parents had brought, and others who had been kidnapped. She still gets ice-cold shivers running down her spine, thinking of the small, terrified faces they’ve encountered.

Most children have been taken home to their desperate parents or to relatives. There’s only one boy left who doesn’t have anyone. And right before the Christmas holidays, too. She glances over at the boy who is sitting with Mulder and hanging on his every word. The sight causes a funny feeling in her stomach. She knows exactly what it is – and why – but she doesn’t want to admit it to herself. Even in the privacy of her own thoughts.

“Mr. Mulder,” the child says, unwrapping a piece of chocolate that Mulder must have had in his pocket. “Do you think Santa is real?”

“Oh, I know he is,” Mulder says with a smile.

“Really?” The boy scoots closer to him. “Have you seen him?”

“I have.”

Scully smiles. She just can’t help it. Despite everything, the boy trusts Mulder. He’s stuffed the chocolate into his mouth and is chewing noisily, staring at Mulder with his big brown eyes. There’s that feeling again, tugging at her insides. She tries to ignore it, but she can’t.

If she squints, she can just imagine that this child isn’t a stranger. That he isn’t someone else’s baby. With his shaggy brown hair he could be a mini Mulder. He could be Mulder’s and hers. But he isn’t. She knew that the IVF would mess with her hormones and her emotions, but she can’t let them overwhelm her. She needs to keep a professional distance. For the child’s sake and her own.

“Do you think Santa will still find me when I’m not home?” The boy’s demeanor has changed. He’s solemn now, his voice cracking with worry.

“He will, Jason,” Mulder assures him in a gentle tone. He touches Jason’s shoulder and squeezes it. “No matter where you are, Santa knows you and he will find you. Have you written a wish list for him? I’ll make sure he gets it.”

“You will?” The excitement in the boy’s voice returns. He’s almost in Mulder’s lap now, grinning up at him with so much hope and happiness that it breaks Scully’s heart.

“Of course. Santa is an old buddy of mine.”

“You’re the coolest, Mr. Mulder. But,” he trails off, a shaky sigh leaving his mouth.

“But what, Jason?”

“I didn’t write a list,” he says in a small voice. “I- we weren’t allowed to… I don’t think Santa would have come to that place.”

“Hey,” Mulder says, taking the boy under his arms and putting him in a chair. “I have an idea. Why don’t you write your Christmas list right here? There’s still some time. Let me- Scully, do you have a pen and some paper for us?” Both Mulder and Jason turn to her, wearing similar expressions. She swallows, not allowing her thoughts to go down that road again.

“Of course,” she says, finding her voice. All she has at hand is the bill from their motel. She folds it in half and hands it to Mulder who mouths a thank you. She’s just about done with filling out her form, so she gives him her pen, too.

“Here you go, Jason.”

“It won’t take long,” he says, already scribbling away. “I know exactly what I want.” Mulder and Scully exchange a look and exhausted smiles. After so many years together, she can read his face easily. She knows what he’s thinking. Her own secret thoughts that she didn’t want to admit to herself are written across Mulder’s face now.

She has to look away, afraid that if she doesn’t, she’ll start crying. They have one chance left. Just one. The IVF was a long shot to begin with but with every shot they take that doesn’t work, she just wants it more. And she wants it with Mulder. It’s not a new realization at all. After all, she asked him to be the sperm donor. But seeing him with Jason today has solidified her choice. It’s Mulder. In each and every way, it’s Mulder that she wants.

While Jason writes his Christmas list, the social worker arrives. Scully exchanges a few words with her and asks where they’re taking the boy. He has family on the other side of the country and that’s where he’ll go after the holidays.

Scully looks at him, at this boy whose tongue is peeking out while he draws a Christmas tree with presents under it on his list. He’s going to be fine. He’s going to get a home and a family who’ll love him the way he deserves.

“Jason, are you ready?” The social worker asks him.

“Just a second,” he says, turning to Mulder. “Have you written your Christmas list yet, Mr. Mulder?”

“I’m too old for Santa to visit me.” Mulder chuckles, but Jason shakes his head.

“You said you’re buddies. You have to have a wish, Mr. Mulder. I left you some space here.” The boy points at a blank space on the paper, right next to a doodle of a wrapped present. “You have to write it down,” Jason explains to him. “Or it won’t come true.”

“This is your list,” Mulder reminds him but the boy is adamant.

“What’s your biggest, greatest, bestest wish, Mr. Mulder?” Jason smiles at him, the gaps in his teeth showing.

“It’s-”

“No, you have to write it down. Right here.” The social worker chuckles and Scully can’t help but smile too.

“You’re very convincing,” Mulder says, running a hand through the boy’s hair. “I’ll write down a wish. Happy now?” Jason leans over and checks what Mulder has written. He glances at him and nods.

“You really make sure Santa gets my list?”

“I promise you, Jason.”

“And he’ll find me?”

“He’ll find you, no matter where you are.”

“Thank you, Mr. Mulder.” Jason throws himself at Mulder, who catches the boy and hugs him back. “I hope your wish comes true, too. Bye, Mr. Mulder. And bye, Agent Scully.”

“Bye, Jason,” she says, waving back at him.

“Cute kid,” Mulder says once Jason and the social worker have left. They’re finally free to go home, too.

“He really is. I hope he’ll recover from what he’s experienced.”

“He will,” Mulder says, sounding confident. “Did the social worker say where they’re taking him? I have to play Santa.” He smiles. “He wants a bike, and hm, a kitten. That one might be difficult. But he should get his bike. Don’t you think?” She nods, not trusting her words. She knows Mulder will move heaven and earth so that Jason will get his bike Christmas morning. And whatever else is on that list. Just to give the boy a reason to keep believing, to keep going. That’s her Mulder.

“What did you wish for?” she asks once they get to their car.

“Oh, you know,” he says nonchalantly. “The usual.”

“Which is what?” To her surprise, he hands her the piece of paper before he starts the car. She quickly reads through Jasons’s wishes before she stumbles upon Mulder’s familiar scrawl. Her heart constricts as she reads his words: ‘I wish that my best friend’s greatest wish comes true’.

“Mulder,” she whispers, her emotions overwhelming her.

“It’s all I want,” he says, quickly glancing over at her. He takes one hand off the wheel and grabs hers. “And not just for you, Scully. I want this for us. Spending time with Jason today, I- Christmas is the time to ask for miracles, right? Maybe we can make one. Hell, we’re due for one.” She sniffs, wiping a few tears away. “Hold on to that list. I know you’re the skeptic here, but… I want to believe. I do believe, Scully.”

“I do, too,” she admits, and Mulder squeezes her hand. And maybe, just maybe, their wish will come true.

#i changed the format cause it was driving me nuts #ficmas2023 #i feel like i'm finding my groove again #msr #xf fanfic #my writing #my fic

55 notes · View notes

prettyiwa · 2 months

Text

Prince!Miyuki Kazuya x Knight!F!Reader Summary: An invitation to a royal wedding in the south demands your presence alongside your prince. Before the trek, Prince Kazuya thought of you as a friend and a knight and little else—you were his dedicated Foxglove Knight. A conversation earlier in the week centered around the concept of love, a concept which Kazuya has not been able to stop thinking of, it seems. Words: 1830 a/n: @owoasis has been talking to me about BLL again and I miss it dearly. Here's a scene I wrote like, a year back.

You’ve been taking too long—much longer than Kazuya would have anticipated. On occasion, you’ve taken longer to prepare yourself, but you’ve never made him wait more than a few minutes. It’s erring on rude. If you don’t hurry, you’ll both be late to the feast.

Is it like this for Omae? Outside of Nao’s soon-to-be wife, you and Princess Omae are some of the only women in formal attendance. He’s seen your taste in garments for formal events, and he can’t imagine what would make tonight different. Watching as not one but two different attendants leave your quarters worries him.

Perhaps you’ve fallen ill? Everyone’s feeling the exhaustion from the games, so perhaps the end of the hunt meant the end of your strength. Perhaps you’re more human than you care to admit, and perhaps you need a rest, too.

The door slides open and he’s prepared a remark for you and—

Oh.

The air rushes out of his lungs and there’s an unfamiliar itch in his palms, a tingle he doesn’t know how to control. His face is noticeably warmer and he definitely feels hot where the collar of his coat sits on his neck.

He wants—

That he wants anything astounds him, but here he is, wanting.

It makes sense why you needed the additional time and why you needed the assistance of attendants, why you didn’t come to him for help.

He cannot imagine a scenario wherein you would have asked the royal seamstresses to craft you such an elegant gown, one that doesn’t allow for protective layers whatsoever. If anything, this seems an elaborate set up by Isashiki and a private commission to manufacture a romantic scenario to rival those he reads. The bodice clings to you, velvet highlighting your natural figure to the sash tied around your waist. And you, in his royal blue.

You look otherworldly, a lady fit for court rather than plate armor. It’s difficult to believe only hours ago, you were by his side, covered in mud with that look in your eye as the boar charged you both. And yet…

Shuffling uncomfortably, you rub your hands together before intertwining your fingers in a rare display of—well, he doesn’t know what to call it. He’s never seen you so… out of your element. But, for being out of your element, you look incredible.

“My prince. Surely there isn’t time for you to gawk at me. I believe we’re close to impropriety with our tardiness.”

“Gawk— I’m not—gawk?!”

“Come now.” Your smile is sheepish as you say it, eyes briefly meeting his before looking away.

It’s unusual to hear such a command from you in such a state, voice wrapping around the words with an eagerness for the night to be done. He’s suddenly wishing the night would continue. Will you wear something similar for the wedding tomorrow?

“I believe I should be escorting you tonight, not the other way around,” he says, half in jest, half with the desire to reach out and touch. His smile grows as he extends his arm, watching as you look at it before resigning yourself to his offer.

If only for tonight, you look uncomfortable with his attention.

You fit into his side easily, if not entirely too stiff. Tonight is unfamiliar for you, enough that it has him biting his tongue, stopping most jokes as they come to mind, wishing instead to distract you and set you at ease.

“Have you seen how garish Mei’s regalia is? It seems he’s forgotten that he’s a guest tonight,” Kazuya starts, leading you towards the Lodge, remembering the white fabric with red and gold accents. Startling attire in most formal settings, much less a regal wedding in the middle of wetlands. You smile and breathe out a laugh, but it’s not quite there yet. “If that’s what he wears to the wedding of a friend, I’m curious as to what he would wear at his own wedding.”

“It’s quite the shame that you would never find out.”

“That it is. Not unless relations between our nations evolved that I would be safe attending, but I doubt that we’ll see such an outcome in my lifetime.”

“I made mention of this to Archduke Hongou—”

“When did you speak to the archduke?” Mention of the leader in the northern islands sets him on edge, though he cannot place why.

“My prince, you watched—”

“Watched?” Beside him, you laugh at his incredulous tone. “What, pray tell, did I watch? I cannot recall such a time you spoke to him. You don’t mean during the duels?”

Relaxed, you feel loose by his side. Pliable, he would venture, though he cannot know for certain. This exchange, this needling, remains much more comfortable for you than the rest of what this night holds.

You aren’t given a chance to answer, not when reaching the Great Lodge, not when everyone turns to see the last to arrive, eyes lingering. Lingering on you or him, he doesn’t know, nor does he know whether they linger because of the attire or the timing. Their attention undoes what he’s spent the last couple minutes doing in a matter of seconds, but he won’t give you time to dwell on that.

Conversations start again, though a few pairs of eyes follow you, it seems. He guides you to the seats, the table next to the first, a sign of the effort he put forth in procuring tonight’s second dish. It’s charming, in an inelegant sort of way, the way you pause as he pulls out your chair, the way you look at him with novel apprehension. But you take your seat beside him, shifting closer once he sits beside you.

This is the comfort of familiarity, nothing more.

You’ve had no more to drink than the first, inescapable for it is a custom of this land’s weddings, but it’s given you enough liquid courage that you’re comfortable moving without him as you are in full gear. The feasting is done and the gifts have been brought out—at least, those consisting of alcohol.

Mei, Shunshin, and Amahisa are speaking around him, but for the life of him, he cannot repeat a word they’ve said in the last five minutes. He can, however, name those who still watch you, now with hungry eyes where there was once only polite interest.

Perhaps not. Perhaps the only hunger is his.

Why does he hunger? It cannot be more than a side effect of visiting these lands. It used to be like this in the past, too, but—

“I told you, he’s not listening.”

“You clearly know him better than I, Narumiya,” Amahisa says, voice pleading. “Do you believe he would mind?”

“Mind?”

“If I asked his companion—”

“His knight?” Mei laughs, uninhibited and not because of the alcohol. “What was her title? ‘Foxglove?’”

It’s the mention of your knightly title that earns Kazuya’s attention, forcing his attention away from you for but a moment. “What about my Foxglove Knight?”

Mei smiles with a single brow raised, smug and triumphant, his expression unchanging as he returns his gaze to Amahisa. “Kazuya doesn’t have a say in this. If you wish to dance with her, you must ask her. He cannot determine autonomy for her.”

“I’m aware of that, but I don’t wish to step on any toes—”

“You won’t be,” Kazuya says, standing with surprising fluidity given how the room spins as he does. Even as he speaks, he cannot look away from you, cannot miss the smile you give Harada or the way you turn to look at the archduke. All he knows is that he cannot bear another moment with this ugly twisting, clawing heat, eager to burst from behind his rib cage.

Amahisa’s words fade away, as does Mei’s sharp laugh, and the archduke is the first to take notice of Kazuya’s approach, excusing himself and returning to Renji’s side. Harada looks between you and Kazuya, eyes catching on something over Kazuya’s shoulders before sighing, deep and exasperated, as he does when following Mei.

“If you’ll excuse me.”

You’re the last one to notice, eyes following the hulking form of what should be your rival. When you take notice of Kazuya, you do so without a single drop of admonishment. No hint of self-rebuke for not noticing sooner. No change in expression, either. Except—

Ah.

You smile.

You smile and the musicians change the tempo and the song is much more… subtle. Encouraging, whereas the last was overtly jovial.

“My prince?”

“You seem to be enjoying yourself.”

“Well, yes. Sir Harada promised to share with me the secret to his flaming sword.”

“Did he now?”

“He did. The archduke was quite curious, too, and Sir Harada seemed to have no qualms about sharing the information.”

“You don’t say.”

Your smile falters, dropping almost imperceptibly.

“Is there something you wish from me?” you ask, stepping closer, brows stitching together only slightly, concern starting to interrupt your pleasance.

“Dance with me.”

His request startles you as much as it does him. “My… my prince?”

He doesn’t even like dancing. Why did he say that? More pressing, why does he feel this way?

“I asked you to dance with me.”

Why does he want to dance at all?

“You most certainly did not ask.”

No, that’s not right. He doesn’t want to dance.

“I did.”

Not by himself, anyway. And not, it would seem, with anyone else.

“My prince,” you breathe with a grin. Comfortable, familiar. “That was a command. You’re attempting to command me to dance with you.”

But he wishes to dance with you.

“I did not mean it as such.”

At least once tonight.

“You may not mean it as such, but you tried nonetheless.”

Please.

“Then how’s this,” he starts, taking your hand in his before he bows, a proper request. “Will you dance with me, my lady?”

“Lady? That’s a bit strong.” You look away from him, unable to keep his gaze, though he looks not away. Despite this, you do not remove your hand from his.

“Is it?”

“Since when have I been a ‘lady?’” When you face him again, your smile drops. He remembers the comments the others made throughout the week, questioning your lack of nobility and wondering aloud how you obtained your appointment as his personal guard.

“Since tonight. Tonight, you are not my knight. You are my companion. My lady.” His words don’t change much for you—they never have—but you’re so dangerously close to giving him what he desires. “Please dance with me.”

“My prince…” You pull at his hand, bidding him to stand and face you properly.

“I wish to dance with you, Foxglove.”

He doesn’t need to hear it, but his heart nearly stops when you adjust your hand in his, stepping closer so he may hold you for a waltz. Your smile reflects none of the uncertainties you felt a moment before, achingly soft and just for him.

“As you wish.”

Daiya no Ace Masterlist

#✒.ix writes #daiya.✒#daiya no ace x reader #miyuki kazuya x reader #miyuki x reader #ace of diamond x reader #✒.bll #daiya no ace fluff #miyuki kazuya fluff #rereading all my notes to see if i can't find the groove for this story again

25 notes · View notes