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flowerwrites06 · 3 years

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break my mind’s eye VII — jjk

Plot: Jungkook thinks marriage is the only way to seal a deal.

Pairing(s): Druglord!Jungkook x Fashion Designer!OC (Name: Belle)

Rating: G | PG | M | R 18+

Type: Drabble | Oneshot | Two Parter | Series

Word Count: 7k+

Genre: Mafia | Angst/Smut/Fluff

Tags & Warnings (for entire series): drug dealing, marriage through trickery, explicit smut, drug use, dubious consent, prostitution, miscarriage, lots of manipulation, impregnation through manipulation

JEON JUNGKOOK TIES THE KNOT!

‘It’s a sad day indeed as the most eligible bachelor in the city is now officially married! The ceremony took place in a garden like-setting on the grounds of the old Jeon manor where we could see the cherry blossoms falling on Kim Belle’s veil.

The couple absolutely glowed in the afternoon light and Jungkook couldn’t keep his eyes off his new bride. While this relationship came as a surprise to everyone, many sources speculate that the two had been liaising for years in secret. Leave it the Jeon family to be as extravagant yet discreet as possible.

As per the family’s tradition, they will be staying in the manor for two nights before going back to their shared home.

Belle’s dress had been a little underwhelming to some of us until we got word that her waistline is encrusted with approximately 96 5 carat diamonds, the whole dress designed and created by Madame Saito, her mentor and one of the leading designers of our country. So appearances are quite deceiving as we’re looking at an easily $20, 000 wedding dress adorned by the new heiress.

The whole ceremony moved as smoothly as the falling flowers. Definitely a step up from the previous few articles written for Kim Belle in poor taste. The new Mrs. Jeon takes the award for being the most elegantly majestic bride of the year.’

“Sorry, sir?” Yoongi asked to make sure he heard Jungkook ask him to come over to his office for a private meeting. There were two ways this could go. Either a bullet in his head or a bullet he has to put in someone else’s head. Namjoon told him a lot of stories of how newer members of any mafia made you kill someone at least once to test true loyalty. Because really one could die to save themselves from any more misery but living their entire life responsible for a murder was a whole other story.

Jungkooks’ expression did not falter in the slightest, still in his proper wedding attire with a light tint on his lips from Belle’s lipstick. “It’s only going to be a few minutes.” He walked past him having every expectation of being followed.

Yoongi did not hesitate to continue walking along the large regal hallway before turning right into a dark rustic office. A much older man already situated himself on the couch while two guards stood on each side of a figure resting on his knees in front of the table.

The usual bright and luxurious light in the rest of the mansion unfortunately did not reach this room. Scent of tobacco mixed in with expensive cologne and sweat swirling in a dark room adorned with deep brown furniture. This was a place of purely business. Despite the pretty lavenders on Jungkooks’ breast pockets matching the flowers in Belle’s hair.

“Park Jeongsu…he was found in midst of exchanging letters to the mayor.” The older male spoke in a gruff tone possibly from the smoke infecting his throat.

“Thank you, uncle.” Jungkook stared down at the wooden box lined in purple velvet. “Do you see that? That’s what you called loyalty.” Fingers traced the outline of some diagram on the top that Yoongi could quite catch but it shone in gold. “Chul has been mingling with the likes of our own gang…” He scoffed with a smile. “Clever.”

Yoongis’ heart seemed quickly tumble down into a tight cage situated somewhere deep in an endless abyss. There was more sources for the mayor. Just how many rats did they have in this place? The man understandably was given minimal information so it was easy for him to stay unknowing and a little confused.

“I despise disloyal people, Jeongsu. I really do.” He attempted to give the trembling male an apologetic look but anyone could sense there was no sincerity. “Especially on one of most joyous occasions of my life, I expected all my soldiers to stay by my side. To protect me as I have tried to protect you and your families. I’ve always tried to be a gracious leader.” Jungkook shrugged. “If it were my father, your own balls would be stuffed down your throat until you choke to death.”

The mere description and Yoongi saw the male on his knees breathing heavily, the cloth around his mouth inflating at every breath.

“Of course today I can’t get my hands dirty.” He moved both hands away from the box. “I need to be gracious and generous today in honor of my new beloved wife.” Jungkook leaned on the edge of the table by his hands. “Thankfully my uncle was nice enough to question you while I was gone…” He gestured towards his blood soaked shirt and swollen eye. “So if you’ve come this far to me, that means you’re of no use.”

The words barely settled into the room but muffled protesting began from the vulnerable target. Even if the cloth wasn’t hindering his clarity, Jungkook and his uncle probably would not have had any remorse to step away. This wasn’t a family or business of mercy.

Flickering open the wooden box, Jungkook in his most casual aura picked up the shining silver object. Each bullet placed inside with heartwarming care before the older mans’ voice slithered through the intimate moment.

“Jungkook…” His uncle warned with a stern tone, smoke riddling the air around him. “It’s bad luck to execute someone on your wedding day.”

“I know.” He muttered without sparing him a sideways glance. Once everything had been prepared, Jungkook walked around the table and stood in front of the traitor. The gun handed out in Yoongis’ direction.

All eyes were on the male now and he never felt more uncomfortable in his entire life. He had been stuck in a trunk before so that was saying something. Eyes flickered from the older man to Jungkook to the male who clearly had been on his side. Of course refusing to do so would end with both their lives taken and then this whole operation would combust back into nothingness.

You’ve shot guns before. Not at innocent people.

No one was truly innocent. At least that was sentiment he plastered in his mind hiding away all the warnings and alarms from his conscience. Padding closer to where Jungkook stood, his heart raced faster at every step swallowing down any protest struggling to push through.

The thrashing faded away into a meek sob as Yoongi faced the man. Much to his discontent, the lack of lines on his face and the broken brightness in his eyes showed that he was but a boy. Possibly a tad younger than Jungkook himself or his age. Either way his mind now haunted itself with the prospect of killing a near child for the sake of his operation. Was it worth to take a life for this?

He was not the only one risking things however. This boy was one of many who were already victims of Jungkooks’ rule, at least Yoongi knew the one kneeling before him had fought for a cause.

Clicking back the safety, Yoongi tightened his jaw ignoring the tears streaming down their cheek and the giant eyes staring back at him.

For a few seconds the younger male calmed himself to an almost peaceful breathing state. It was brief and hard to truly notice but Yoongi saw the little nod he gave him. Reassuring the older male that this needed to be done. One life to protect the many.

In a rush of adrenaline Yoongi pulled the trigger. It wasn’t as loud as the guns he received in the precinct. Perfect for quick and quiet executions especially during these occasions. For a moment he could pretend that nothing even happened. Though blood leaking from the hole made on the others’ forehead spoke a truer story.

To the side he dropped, light thud echoing in the room before nothing but silence plunged comfortably.

“The den in Gongneung needs to be put under heavy security. I remember him one of the boys who was patrolling there.” Jungkook nodded towards the unmoving figure before fixated his gaze on the two guards who immediately bowed in response. “And I want a private meeting with the person who brought him in as a tribute.” He finally turned to Yoongi, expression softening a little at how frozen the man was. Carefully he patted him on the back. “You did well, Yoongi. I know being a medical apprentice, this isn’t exactly your line of work but I need to see whether it’s safe to have you around.” A small smile played on his lips. “I suppose I can always trust Belle’s judgement.”

Yoongi forced him to meet the younger male’s gaze, an awkward smile flickered but quickly faded away as he dumbly watched Jungkook take the gun away from him and put it on the table gently.

The boy lay limp on the dark wood slowly being painted with blood, deepening its hue into a deep wine glistening in the lowlight. Definitely not a sight supposed to be seen on an auspicious day.

Jungkook watched the blood ooze across the room and merely stood over it to move closer to the door. “Clean this up. No more tasks until I get to the mansion.” He ordered simply. “Yoongi…”

His attention flicked back to reality in a rush of cold air before following Jungkook along like a confused puppy.

As the bright light almost burned his eyes, Yoongi pretended that he just woke up from a really bad dream and nothing ever happened. He learned how to do that very quickly in his career especially after he shot his first person in the field. Not the healthiest way to cope but his pay did not actually cover for therapy.

Jungkook dug his hands into his pockets looking out the window. A bright, perfect day to be married after so long of hearing one proposal after the other. It was finally done. Eyes flickered towards the raven haired male who finally caught up to stand next to him. “Unfortunately I have to ask you another favor as well, Yoongi.”

“Does it involve me killing anyone? Can I have a five minute break first?”

The younger male chuckled before shaking his head. “No…it’s—it’s a little more delicate than that.”

Yoongis’ brows furrowed, all of his attention now dissipated into what he was going to say. Though he hated to admit he had a small idea of who it involved.

Jungkook stammered before glancing around the hallway and sighing. “It’s about the wedding night…”

The first thing she took off was her heavy earrings as they were led into one of the private rooms to change into more comfortable clothing. Apparently Boyoung wanted to have a small word with the two of them before they went off to bed. Her limbs felt like they were going to pop out of their sockets with how exhausted she was. Who knew just wearing a heavy dress and walking around would take so much out of you.

Belle understand on a whole new level just how models felt having to create such a strong demeanor that even pain could not pass across their features. Hours spent on chatting people up and others admiring the now famous waistline on her dress. The girl loved the dress more because of the fact Saito made it just for her made her happy enough.

Jungkooks’ hand permanently set on the small of her back. The man had disappeared for a while during the party but from the way his face tensed when he walked back here, she knew it had to do with work.

The guide opened a door for them and they were led into a room similar to the one Belle dressed up in for the ceremony.

Giving a kind smile to the guide, she walked and placed her earrings on the small table next to the bathroom. For the moment the couple had finally stood on their lonesome with no one to disturb them.

The young lord took the opportunity to pounce at his new bride and take her lips into his.

Her veil toppled off her head from the force and Belle couldn’t help but giggle a little into the kiss. “Not now.” She whispered.

“A few minutes.” Jungkook breathed out pulling her veil off gently before pressing a few more pecks on her soft lips. Whatever strain tightened up his nerves significantly loosened being around his only source for relaxation.

Belle hummed in protest, pressing against his chest to have him pause. “Your aunt is going to be here in a few minutes. We need to be decent.”

Jungkook merely smirked and gave her another peck just at the moment the door opened.

Boyoung gave her nephew a cheeky smile as he backed shyly before closing the door behind them.

“What did you want to talk about?” Belle asked with a sweet smile gracing her lips.

The older woman let out a sigh but still kept a decent smile gracing her features. She looked over at Jungkook who hung his head for a moment. “Dear…” Her tone rung grim and serious. A rare sound coming from a lady who always looked extremely happy every day. Once again the usual habit of holding Belle’s hands when she spoke of something. “The Jeon family has been around for many generations. Possibly longer than the city itself.” Boyoung chuckled lightly. “So with that age and prestige, there comes…a few traditions that lived on for our family’s continual survival.”

Belle nodded, trying to search her expression with the hope that was just some simple task she had to undertake. Maybe eating more fruits or balancing stuff on her head. Except the other womans’ voice sounded far too serious for something like that. Eyes flickered over to Jungkook who had his arms folded over his chest and his expression softened.

“Family members must be married at 21…” Boyoung repeated the tradition the couple already fulfilled. “They also need to carry on the line of the Jeon family.” Her grip tightened on her hands. “Do you have any conditions that may prevent you from having a baby?”

She stammered lightly. “No—I don’t think so.”

Boyoung nodded before giving her a smile except it wasn’t as bright more consoling.

“Why are we talking about babies now?” Belle smiled nervously.

She glanced over at Jungkook for a moment who tightened his jaw, seemingly unable to look Belle straight in the eye. “You understand the world we live in, dear. At some point, you both will need to dedicate yourself to your own lives just like Jungkooks’ parents did. Which is why we make a point to marry and have children in their brisk days.”

Belle’s lips parted for a moment, sensing where this now dreaded conversation was headed. “When—when do you want us to have children?”

Boyoung took a deep breath as the younger female had the urge to yank her hands away. “There is a ceremony on the wedding night for every Jeon wedding. I’ve done it, Jungkooks’ mother has done it and many of our ancestors. You are to—lay with one another that will give you a child.” She spoke carefully. “Because of a few incidents in the past, there is a strict rule that this ceremony must have two witnesses. Preferably people that the couple trusts not to fib or lie about the consummation.”

Her whole body felt like it burst into flames but no one noticed or cared. A little voice inside her screamed out so loud, Belle was worried she might actually mimic the volume right there and then. She really thought this conversation would not happen until a few years after the wedding, maybe when her heart wore down to the subject. How much more of her naivety was going to be shredded to waste before she realized these people did not care who they hurt. Especially when it came to their ideals.

“I know it’s a lot to take in, dear but—we must prepare tonight.” She caressed her cheek.

Belle could almost feel a slight sting on her skin at the seemingly affectionate movement. Blood curdling screams still echoed through her insides but on the outside, she nodded as any captive trying to live would do. Just nod and hope it ends quick.

Boyoung immediately smiled using the minor response as a reassurance boost before grinning at Jungkook. “I will see you both bright and early tomorrow.” She announced walking out of the door.

The couple now standing in a pit of thick silence.

“You knew about this.” Belle whispered, eyes growing glossier by the second as they stood face to face with one another. “Is that the part you conveniently forgot? The part where I’m supposed to make children for you tonight too.” She winced while Jungkook was trying conjure up words that would be most appropriate to reassure her.

Unfortunately the way their family worked and the way society worked were so far off from each other that even he felt helpless against it. “Belle, we’ve been doing it without protection this whole time. What’s going to be so different now?”

“They want me to be impregnated!” She shouted making the male hurriedly glance over at the door worried someone might be listening in. “With witnesses…” She whispered under her trembling breath.

“Baby, calm down.” He raised his hands to cup her cheeks, give her some form of comfort that he could while still making Boyoung and the rest of his family happy.

Belle roughly pushed him away, her bracelet tinkling and tugging at the fabric of his shirt when she moved back. “No that’s why you chose me, isn’t it?” Voice shook down to her very core as she yanked away from Jungkook attempting to hold her hand. “You wouldn’t feel bad if I was in display as opposed to someone you actually cared about.”

The lord paused in his tracks for a moment feeling his heart clench at the dark thought swirling in his wifes’ head. “I don’t want to do this just as much as you, B.” His words faded more into a mutter trying to keep the conversation private because he knew with all his soul that there was one person pressing their ear against the door. Thankfully most of these doors in the mansion were decently sound-proof. “You think I want people to see us like that?” He grabbed her by the cheeks now forcing to keep her close, noses just brushing against each other. “This is my family. You should know more than anyone that we can do everything for family.”

“Don’t do that.” She shook her head, breathing out a small sob and attempting to pull away from him again but his hands were firm to keep her still. “Don’t do that, this is not the same. It’s a baby—”

“I know.” He whispered, her pulse pounding against his palm making his stomach drop. “I do care about you. I care about you a lot…”

“No you don’t—” Belle hated that she was not just feeling anger pump through her veins but fear. Genuine fear. The permanency of what they were about to do could terrify anyone but at least normal people had the chance to say no or turn back.

“I do.”

She took a deep breath gently pushed his hands away. “If you did care about me…we wouldn’t be married. And I wouldn’t be preparing to be bred like an animal.” Swallowing down the painful lump in her throat despite the tears already trailing down her cheeks. People cried at weddings after all but rarely for this reason.

Before Jungkook could say another word Belle rushed away into the bathroom, slamming the door so hard it almost made even him jump.

No. No no no no no no no no no this was wrong. Of all the fucking things Yoongi witnessed in his entire life, this made him nauseous even thinking about it.

Witnessing impregnation. That’s what they called it, the men quietly smoking at the open area near the bedroom it was going to happen. The excited bastards looked to be about the age when it was acceptable in their time to behave in this manner, chin sagging down to their toes.

So along with mass selling drugs, the Jeon family loved impregnating their women in front of other people. How unsurprisingly disappointing.

The worst part was that Yoongi had a feeling Belle wasn’t a long-time girlfriend of Jungkook. He wasn’t even sure if the two were a real couple. But a child is fucking real. This wasn’t a fantasy game anymore for status, this was solidifying a future that the woman probably didn’t even want.

Silence plunged into the room when from the corner of his eye a lavender adorned figure stepped in next to Jungkooks’ aunt.

His plump lips curled up into a smile at the older female, bowing down before a grim expression flashed across his face and Yoongi immediately knew why he was here.

Jimin looked around at the people in the room and his heart dropped seeing the chortling men at the corner. He prayed to the high heavens none of them were going to be in the booth observing this horrendous ceremony. Instead his eyes flickered to the man he hoped was Yoongi. “Witness?” He asked briefly. Much to his somewhat relaxation, Yoongi nodded.

“This your first time?” One of the older man asked the two males.

They both agreed shortly and the older man laughed.

“Oh it’s better than it sounds. In all my experiences, they both loved it. Sometimes it’s a sweet affair.” He smiled.

“And other times?” Yoongi asked daringly.

Unfortunately the men shifted uncomfortably, the slightly younger ones cleared their throats while the older ones looked more grim than normal.

“Virgins are the worst to endure.” The oldest one there spoke up, shaking and sitting on the chair. “Crying…blood…those are the ones you need to worry for the most.”

“We haven’t had a virgin in a long time though.” A more springy man spoke up. “A few of us suggested that the mating ceremony should not be mixed in with losing one’s virginity. Not much fun for the to-be mother or father.”

Yoongi swallowed down thickly, their casual tone about this whole mess making him even more nauseous.

The conversation was immediately paused when Boyoung padded back into the room. “It’s time now, boys. Into the booth.” She muttered almost under her breath gesturing towards to the gap on the left of the entrance.

Taking calculated steps one after the other, Yoongi simply followed the lavender adorned male through the small opening into a tiny booth. Their shoulders brushing against each other as they observed the beautiful designed window, vectors formulating the letter ‘J’ mixed with butterflies and flowers.

However through the window was something far less pleasant.

Silence diseased the large room. Belle was left to hear her own hurdling thoughts just to stay sane. From the corner of her eye she noticed the shifting through the open window with a designed barrier to create some kind of class to this horrid tradition.

His hand pushed her chin so her gaze could be fixated on him. “It’s just you and me, okay?” Jungkook whispered. “Just us.”

Like a brainwashing scheme where Belle was stuck in a river between a bank of fantasy and a bank of reality. They were not alone. She could feel the familiar eyes burning right into core. But what was so new about pretending? She pretended this to a point where her entire life was now dedicated to the man before giving no chance of another life.

If Jungkook couldn’t get out this then how could she ever think the same? It wasn’t like she could run away either, there was no one around to help her. No one to stop this.

Hand gently cupped her cheek before leaning in for an initiating kiss, light warmth spreading through her. His lips became so familiar for comfort nowadays that Belle lost a little of her conscious sense for her own peace of mind.

However this was not meant to be an act of love or even attraction. She was reminded of this when Jungkook pushed the fabric of her dress up without warning. “I’m sorry.” He whispered in her ear. No this was a responsibility. A chore to get done on a to-do list curated for the young lord.

Made to lie on her back, Belle’s vision grew blurry feeling her legs being spread apart with the utmost care but hardly any of the warmth she usually remembered. Then there came the burn through her entrance as he pushed in. A trembling breath passed through her lips struggling to keep composure in such a vulnerable position.

Walls ached the deeper he moved in, his one hand gripping at the sheets until his hips stilled once she was completely full with his already throbbing cock.

Her gaze flickered up to the cherry blossom paintings on the ceiling, pretending a cool spring breeze touching her face and the sound of water flowing. This isn’t real. For a second Belle forced herself to drown into a pool of fantasy. This wasn’t real. The pain faded minutes ago and so did her sense of consciousness.

She wasn’t here, arms pinned down by strong hands and hot breath cascading down her neck. No it was back at the boutique. Belle spending hours sewing her favourite daffodil yellow dress with a tall cup of iced coffee and her hair in a comfortable bun.

Her head was pulled back into reality when Jungkook pressed a kiss on her lips and it all poured back into her. Legs aching from the spread, her heat a little numb from the friction while no sound passed her lips except for light heaving.

Yoongi struggled to control his heavy breathing as the scene took place before him. The man felt like a prisoner witnessing his inmate being beaten. He just had to watch cruel reality play out it’s painful dance. Having the stomach for it was not his biggest issue. Except he knew Belle was not here out of unconditional love for Jungkook. He promised himself to always help people in need but truly aiding someone to freedom required a hefty journey in the process.

Right at this moment however that sentiment seemed like empty words.

This was not Belle’s world. The idea itself was what caused a pit in his already upset stomach. She didn’t grow up in this life nor did she choose it. It was never supposed to a part of her but now she had to deal with evil test of fate.

Jungkook intertwined his fingers with her loose ones, pressing reassuring pecks on her jawline as his hips snapped against hers. Sneaking a free hand between her legs he rubbed onto her clit hoping to give her some kind of pleasure while his own orgasm rolled to the edge.

A light tickle shot through her but stopped midway when she could feel him reaching his release. The way his face contorted and his thrusts grew desperate but sloppy.

This isn’t real. Fingers fisted at the sheets. This isn’t real. A light groan uttered under his breath. This isn’t real. More tears burning and gathering at her overflowing eyes.

This is real.

The man stilled as his release burst through his veins.

Her body lay compliant as she felt herself being filled up to the brim. Belle sucked onto her bottom lip, closing her eyes almost trying to turn back time somehow.

Jungkook hesitantly leaned in and tried to press a kiss on her cheek.

“Get off me.” She whispered. “Please.”

The male paused feeling a burning behind his eyes when she still tried to be kind despite what he did. Pulling out of her gently, Jungkook got off the bed with a shaky sigh curling his hands into fists when he couldn’t comfort her. How could he? He was the reason she needed comfort in the first place. Swallowing the lump in his throat, Jungkook turned away to the bathroom.

Yoongi didn’t realize he had been gripping onto the grill of the window the whole time, until he felt something wet on his palms. When he pulled away it felt like taking a splinter out tiny little bleeding holes interrupting the lines.

His ears pricked up at the trembling sigh the other let out.

When he looked over at him, his cheeks were already stained with tears while a few more flooded at the brim watching Belle slowly shift to the middle of the bed. “I have—” The male whispered before swallowing down painfully. “I have to go to work after this.”

The both of them helplessly watched the girl shake and force herself to sob quietly as she fixed her dress.

“Please…go see if she’s okay. If you can.” The pleading look in Jimin’s eyes mimicked the ache in his exhausted heart. They both knew Belle didn’t deserve this mess. They both witnessed her kindness and now saw her pain.

Yoongi nodded even though it was clear there was nothing any of them could do for her right now. Not at this moment. God if he could just tell him right there and then that he was trying his best to help her out of here.

But when he saw the way Belle curled into herself and tried to take to deep breaths while tears were still streaming down her face.

He knew he had to do a whole fucking more than his best.

Two nights later.

Sun felt warm on her skin, shoes crunched against the pavement as she relished in the murmurs and cheers of the market. How long had it been since the woman had just walked through this corner of wonders? All the high fashion shows, sleek garments and elegant wear were almost nothing compared to the raw simplicity of the red cotton or hand crafted jade jewelry. Belle remembered how she used to create necklaces out of flowers and little stones giving it to Taehyung as a gift because he was the only one who would accept it.

No matter how high she went in this pillar of success, this still brought a warmth in her heart without fail.

Wandering eyes paused on one clothing stall in particular. Padding closer, she saw the smallest pair of yellow shoes shining in the sunny day just at the edge of the display. A smile tugged at her lips when she noticed tiny daisy details embroidered onto it. Carefully the woman picked the pair up almost worried that it might fall apart because they looked so delicate and innocent.

“You have child?” The lady at the stall smiled at her kindly as she waved herself with a fan to waft away the heat.

Belle smiled, relishing the soft fabric under her fingers pads almost acting as a therapeutic substance. “Not yet.” She chuckled softly. “How much is this?”

The lady boxed the shoes up carefully before handing it to her with a bracelet for free. When Belle tried to refuse, she waved it off with that same sweet smile. “It’s for good fortune.”

With slight reluctance the girl thanked her again and moved onto the other stalls. As her eyes wandered, she stopped at the sight of a familiar figure walking out of the market area towards a pay phone. Forehead knitted and curiosity peeking, Belle moved to the more crowded areas so she could see what was happening without being caught. Sneaking around was not the most elegant behavior but at this point, the girl lost all care of what was proper and improper.

Pausing behind the payphone Belle hugged the bag to her chest finally catching Yoongis’ voice speak into the call.

“Jeon family is more traditional than you think, man. They had witnesses to watch the consummation.” Anger was clear in his tone especially in the way it rasped a little more when he tried to lower his volume. “Jungkook handpicked the damn witnesses, what kind of fucked up family is this?”

Belle felt a strange air of relief hearing someone else say those words other than her screaming it over and over again in her mind. Despite the urge to thank him for reassuring her sanity, she stood still to listen when he spoke up again.

“Jungkook is adding extra security to the Gongneung den, all his strongest supplies are there. He knows there’s rats in his empire so we need to get this done before he finds a way to hide all of it again.” His voice was much lower than before.

The woman still caught all the words that were needed however. Heart pounded against her ribcages padding closer to the payphone until the worry of Yoongi seeing her did not resonate anymore.

Yoongi gave a few more words of encouragement to Namjoon before doing his checks again and the sound around him numbed. He saw a familiar reddened and teary gaze fixated on him. For a moment he wanted to believe that she just arrived not hearing a word of their conversation but he knew better than to be so naïve.

Before he could think up a strategy, Belle rushed over to the male in a huff and stood merely a breath away from him with her back pressed slightly against the phone. There was a flash of anger on her face before it faded into something that made Yoongi wish the anger could come back again so he could endure it better.

“You’re a police officer?” Bottom lip trembled and her already exhausted eyes flooded with heavy tears. “And you just watched that happen?” Belle knew why Yoongi couldn’t just burst into the room and stop the event just like she couldn’t stop Jungkook or Boyoung from going on with tradition. But the sensible side of her lost its way that night and now the girl found it far too difficult to find it.

“If I could, I would’ve shot all of them right there and then.” He murmured feeling his stomach drop at the way her voice couldn’t keep any of its usual composure anymore. “I want you to get out of this. I really do. But we need to—we need to work together if this is ever going to stop.” His words dialed down to a whisper now that their faces were merely a breath apart. It took a few minutes for him to realize that his hand was caressing her cheek, sloppily wiping away the tear that flowed down to his thumb.

How long had it been since she wanted to hear someone say those words? Someone that could help her get out of this. A part of her would have agreed in seconds, for the first time falling into another’s arms and feeling like she did not have to do anything. But the tiny yellow shoes in the bag grew heavy on her. “Yoongi—” Belle breathed out staring down at her purchase, hands shaking.

Confused eyes flickered down to follow her gaze and immediately saw the miniscule box inside the bag. “What’s wrong?” He opted to search her expression now. “Belle?” Some side of his mind tried to shout that his hand should be back in his pocket. If anyone saw the two standing this way then they would both be in trouble and none of this would be worth it. But she felt so warm and broken that he was afraid they both would fall apart if he moved even the slightest away.

Belle stammered trying to form the words somehow before sniffling. “I’m pregnant.” She sobbed lightly.

The news lingered heavily in the air between them and Yoongi felt like the wall of his mind close into this one thing. All of the things—all of these goals now stripped down to these two words that he prayed would not be true. He knew it might be possibility. He saw the whole thing happen with his own two eyes but for some reason a more naïve part of him—whatever was left of it—wanted to believe they had time. Yoongi took a deep breath before shaking his head. “It’s okay…we’ll figure it out.” He made her meet his gaze. “We’ll figure it out, I promise.”

She closed her eyes, nodding while her tears seemed to take their own freedom down her face. “Okay.” Words came out in a whisper.

The older male couldn’t help but mimic her nodding for a moment, slowly moving his hand away and hoping no one in the town recognized them. “Do you need a ride home?”

Quickly the girl shook her head feeling an ache in her belly calling the place ‘home’. It would be their child’s home. She would have to accept that someday. “Can we—” She glanced over at the bustling market. “Can we walk through the market for a little bit?” A sad smile tugged at her lips though her eyes glinted with desperation to capture any sense of false joy that came across the path.

Yoongi swallowed a small, unexpected lump in his throat before glancing at the market. “Yeah…of course.”

Maybe a few more minutes of blinded excitement could redeem that little piece of sanity.

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#jungkook #jungkook imagines #bts imagines #jungkook fanfic #bts fanfic #jungkook fanfiction #bts fanfiction #jungkook mafia au #bts mafia au

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zacharybosch · 4 years

Text

Playing Dead - chapter 2

featuring the first of some new illustrations by the incomparable @theseavoices!

chapter 1: tumblr / ao3

read chapter 2 of Playing Dead below or on ao3!

The Florentine house was, like Hannibal’s property in Baltimore, extravagant. But unlike Baltimore, this house was decorated far more warmly; where Baltimore had felt like a museum, chamber after echoing chamber filled with so many terrible and untouchable things, Florence was like a private club for the museum’s esteemed patrons. The hallways were lined with wood panelling in a thousand subtle shades and hues. The furniture in the sitting room was bespoke, hand-crafted by a family of local artisans who had been building furniture in the city for centuries. The blankets on the beds were all antique textiles, carefully and lovingly restored. The kitchen was Tuscan marble the colour of warm sand, grand and beautiful and covered in dust.

The bathroom was a different matter. It had been exquisite when they first arrived, with elegant frescoes on the walls, floor tiles coloured like the deep ocean, and a huge, shiny copper bathtub taking pride of place in the centre. Now the room was a cacophony of mirrors, hung on every empty patch of wall and propped up in every available corner. Some of them were modern and reflected Will’s image; most of them were far older, and showed only Hannibal’s scowling face.

The floor was dull and splattered with bloodstains. Will had placed towels on the floor to keep the worst of it off, but the attempt was half-hearted at best and if he knew where the mop was, he didn’t care enough to ever fetch it.

The tub was no longer shiny. Will had given up trying to keep it clean when his attempts to turn Hannibal kept on failing. Now the rim of the tub was turning black with the build-up of dried blood and other bodily fluids.

Hannibal was desperate to clean it. Will could see the twitch of his fingers, the grimace every time Hannibal lowered himself gingerly into the tub, but he was too weak to do much beyond lie on the sofa and complain about it. Vigorous cleaning was certainly outside the realm of Hannibal’s current capabilities.

Will had been sparing at first in his attempts to turn Hannibal, but Hannibal’s insistence that they try and try again, and Will’s apparent inability to say no, had got them to the point where Will was making the attempt nearly every week. The toll on Hannibal’s body was enormous, and the IV drip snaking out of his arm had become a near-permanent feature.

The last attempt had been mere days ago, but instead of packing up their things and preparing to leave for the next multimillion dollar bolthole like Will knew they should, they were in the bathroom and attempting the change again.

“I’m still angry that you opened the window,” Will said, trying to disconnect Hannibal from his IV drip. “I told you so many times not to do it. All it takes is one person to glance up from the street and see your face. We can’t risk it.”

“You have me locked up here like a prisoner. This is not at all what I imagined our future together would hold.” Hannibal batted Will’s hand away and disconnected the IV tube from his cannula himself. “I think I can be forgiven for wanting a little fresh air.”

“You get fresh air every damn night when I take you out into the courtyard. Don’t pretend that this was anything other than you trying to pick a fight.”

“Did it succeed, at least?”

Will closed his eyes and silently prayed for strength. “No. This isn’t a fight.”

“A shame. Maybe you should rip my ear off again.”

The ear was Hannibal’s favourite fallback. No matter that Will had done it just to provide some evidence that Hannibal was dead, no matter that Will had immediately applied his healing blood to the wound to help a new ear grow in its place, no matter that Will had done it all solely to smooth the way for their escape; as far as Hannibal was concerned, it was just another scab to pick at. But all Will said was, “Get in the bath.”

Hannibal eased himself in slowly, crusts of dry blood flaking away from the sides of the tub as he settled and adjusted himself. He hadn’t removed any of his clothes, and it just made him look all the more frail, veins standing out in stark relief against the soft drape of his shirtsleeves.

“Remind me again why we’re doing it this way,” Hannibal said, in a tone of voice that suggested the last thing he wanted was to be reminded of why they were doing it this way.

“Because,” Will grunted, fiddling around with sticky tape and plastic tubing, “we’ve tried the old-fashioned way and it didn’t take.”

“This approach hasn’t exactly been taking either, Will. The old-fashioned way was far more stimulating.”

“And it also has an incredibly high rate of failure. This way is easier to control, more precise. Do you want the change or not?”

“You know that I do.”

“Then stop nitpicking.” Will connected the new tube to Hannibal’s cannula. The needle had been inserted in the same spot where he’d bitten Hannibal that first time, back in Baltimore. He could see the marks, the shiny, pink little punctures where his teeth had sunk in so easily. Already half-healed by the time Will had hauled Hannibal over the butcher block and poured his regenerative blood down Hannibal’s throat, they were scars that would never fully fade.

Will felt an absurd stab of sentimentality, and swiftly brushed it aside. “Okay. Where do you want to bleed from today?”

“Surprise me.”

Will took a knife from his box of supplies, a mean little thing with a smooth wooden handle and a wickedly sharp blade, and stuck it deep into Hannibal’s thigh.

Hannibal didn’t flinch, just closed his eyes briefly and worked his jaw. “The femoral artery, again. That’s not very surprising, Will.”

“I swear to God, Hannibal, I will walk out of this house right now and never come back.”

“Then walk,” Hannibal challenged, and Will slammed his fist into the side of the tub in frustration. For a long moment they just stared at each other, both on the brink of doing something stupid.

Eventually, Will silently picked up and inserted his own cannula, connecting himself to Hannibal via two metres of sterile plastic tubing. He watched his blood wind its way through the tube until it got to Hannibal’s end. Then he yanked the knife out of Hannibal’s thigh.

The rush of blood was sudden and powerful, and Hannibal’s trousers and Will’s hand quickly became soaked. Will perched on the edge of the tub and slowly licked the blood from his fingers while Hannibal’s body spasmed and eventually stilled. Every time they did this, Hannibal passed out from the blood loss a little quicker. If Will couldn’t get the change to happen soon, he’d have to consider holding off entirely for months, maybe even a year, to let Hannibal come back to his full health. It would not be a pleasant time for either of them.

But Will knew that Hannibal would demand they try again as soon as he awoke from this current attempt, just as he would demand after the next failed attempt, and the next, and the next.

The longer they remained like this, with Hannibal suspended in a bloody half-life, coming back from the brink over and over, the more reluctant Will became to see the thing done. Over the preceding months Hannibal had grown difficult to deal with, borderline petulant. Will didn’t want to be stuck in the mire of yet another petty argument, only for that to be the time that the change finally took hold, and then Hannibal would be frozen forever with a sneer on his lips and a chip in his heart.

Will wanted… He didn’t know what he wanted. The old Hannibal, maybe, whoever that was. The Hannibal he had known in Baltimore, after the revelation but before the blood and the escape to Europe, when they would just sit and talk and exist together. Before Will had recklessly dangled the promise of eternal life, and Hannibal had grasped at it viciously and refused to let go.

Perhaps the new Hannibal, if Will could just make the damn change stick, if he could bear to open himself up like he knew he should, instead of meeting every one of Hannibal’s jabs with another brick in the wall between them.

After every attempt, when Hannibal had been drained and filled with Will’s blood and left to stew overnight, there would be a brief moment, just a small handful of seconds, where Hannibal awoke and he was thrumming with power, radiant and vital as a king. Those moments were what kept Will trying again and again, the tiny glimpses of Hannibal elevated to a level beyond what he had ever achieved in his human life.

But it always ended up a false hope, Hannibal’s awakenings being nothing more than the defibrillator effect of Will’s blood as it shocked him back into life and then faded into nothing. The small chance that it wouldn’t fade, that Hannibal would awake strong and full of new vampiric life and then stay that way, seemed to become more impossible to grasp the harder they reached for it.

#hannibal #hannigram #hannibal lecter #will graham #vampire au #my fic

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sun-summoning · 7 years

Text

just some sarada and sakura stories

i. future

sarada’s favourite version of dress up involves taking parts of her mother’s gear that she no longer uses, particular armour that’s too big for her and a cat mask of porcelain that has been long put to rest. sarada runs around the house draped in black and with the mask on her face, leaping from one piece of furniture to the other while explaining that the floor is lava.

when sakura enters the room, walking over said lava, sarada turns to her dinosaur and rabbit teammates and tell them that lady blossom is here and that they mustn’t fall for the tricks hidden in her apron.

her mother raises an eyebrow at her. “am i supposed to be the bad guy?”

“yes, mama!”

“what should i do?”

“bad guy things, duh.”

her mother laughs and agrees and soon she has sarada struggling in her embrace.

“no, mama!” sarada yells. “too tight!”

her mother loosens her grip but still holds on to her. “i have you now,” she declares in her evil voice.

“you’ll never get away with this!”

“and time for my secret move,” her mother continues. sarada tenses. “kiss attack!” soon her mother is pressing sloppy kisses to her forehead and cheeks and sarada starts to giggle because she’s ticklish. she yells that she concedes and when her mother’s barrage subsides, sarada pouts at her.

“when i’m bigger, i’m going to be way stronger,” she declares.

“i’m sure you will, sweetheart.”

“i’m going to smash the ground like you can, mama.” she bites her lip. “when i’m bigger, will you show me how to do that?”

her mother makes a fist and grins and sarada makes one too. “you bet i will.”

ii. modern au

when sarada comes home and finds her mother using her laptop, she panics and almost trips on her feet as she grabs the computer away.

“sarada!” her mother yelps in surprise. she frowns, more concerned that annoyed. “what are you doing--”

“why are you using my laptop?!”

her mother blinks. “you mentioned that you wanted to take a trip together during your school holidays, so i was just doing some research,” she explains.

she speaks so slowly, so calmly, that sarada remembers that maybe she needed to relax.

“you kids these days.” her mother just shakes her head. “so attached to your devices.”

sarada pouts. “i’m not--”

her mother just pulls her down to the couch, gently prying away the laptop and settling it over both of their laps. she goes through a few tabs, showing sarada some places she was thinking of bringing her. they discuss their family trip and how fun it would be to go to the beach together and bury papa in the sand, and when they’re done, her mother glances at sarada and asks:

“and what was with that reaction earlier, missy?” her mother closes the laptop and puts it on the table. she turns her body and sarada grimaces, realizing they’re about to have a serious discussion. great. “are you hiding something?”

“no!” but sarada answers too quickly. she curses herself, because what kind of ninja would be so poor at hiding information. her mother raises an eyebrow, and knowing that the world’s strongest kunoichi probably has ways of making her talk, sarada rubs the back of her neck and admits almost indiscernibly, “i, um, write, you know, like, stuff.”

“what was that?”

“i like to write.”

when sarada looks up, her mother is nodding and smiling. “can i read--”

“no!”

her mother isn’t even remotely fazed by all her yelling. “alright then--”

“like, it’s fan fiction.” sarada doesn’t even want to consider how red her face must be right now. “just. stuff. modern aus. fantasy aus. whatever. stop asking questions, mama, jeez!”

iii. inheritance

“mama!” sarada yells from the attic. “ma!” she yells again when she gets no repsonse. “maaaaaaaa!”

“yeah?” sakura shouts from downstairs.

“mama, i found your old forehead protector!” sarada has the decency to stand at the edge of the attic entrance.

“what was that?”

“your forehead protector!”

“what?”

“your forehead protector!”

“oh! okay?”

“can i use it?”

“can you what?”

“can i use it?”

“what--”

“what is wrong with the two of you?!” her father growls when he stomps down the hallway.

he looks up the ladder at sarada, glaring at her, and then turns his furious gaze to the office where he knows her mother is. “stop yelling across the house!” he scolds. her mother comes into view, having come a little closer so they could try having a quieter conversation. her father continues chiding them, but her mother lets out a guilty giggle that sarada can’t help but share.

“we are very sorry anata,” her mother says.

“yeah.” sarada tries not to grin too widely. “sorry papa.”

he just rolls his eyes when they start laughing again and walks away.

her mother soon joins her in the attic. “what were you saying, sweetheart?”

sarada holds up the forehead protector she’d found in a box of her mother’s old things. based on the photos she’s seen, this is the one her mother used when she was in her teens. it’s a little scratched up, but to sarada that just adds to its wonder. her mother took down some of her biggest bads wearing this thing.

can i use this? she wants to ask, but sarada shakes her head. “i’m going to use this,” she declares.

her mother rests a hand on her head. “yeah?”

“yeah,” sarada says. “is that okay?”

“of course it is.”

iv. picture frame

one day sarada finds a box of old photographs and wonders why they’ve never been framed. they’re clearly from her childhood, sometimes featuring her grandparents or naruto or ino, but mostly they’re of her and her mother. when she asks why they’re in a box, her mother looks sad.

“i didn’t want to remind you of the fact that it was just the two of us,” her mother admits.

sarada looks at the first few: her and her mother having a picnic, her and her mother at the beach, her and her mother with their garden. they’re all close-ups, selfies taken by her mother or with a tripod, reminding sarada that it really was just the two of them for quite some time.

“and i didn’t want to hurt your father like that either.”

sarada’s lips thin. her mother has always been painfully kind, and sarada hates hearing about the sacrifices she’s made for for her.

“but,” her mother continues, “i couldn’t stop myself.” she shrugs. “really, these photos were just for me.” she moves to take the box back but sarada shakes her head and brings it to her chest.

“no,” sarada whines. “they’re mine now.” her mother raises an eyebrow and sarada just shrugs. “fine. they’re ours. can i take a few and frame them?”

her mother just smiles. “take whichever ones you want.”

v. “because we have you..."

sarada reads a lot, from ninjutsu scrolls to medical texts to trashy romance novels. she can’t help but enjoy the excessiveness of the latter books, and sometimes she wonders how her parents were able to be away from each other for so long.

“were you ever worried?” sarada asks her mother. it might be rude, but her curiosity is getting the better of her. and she knows their bond. sarada could never ask her father something like this without the mood dampening severely. with her mother, they can turn this into a joke.

“worried that he’d what, cheat on me?”

“yeah.”

her mother actually snorts. “oh, no, not at all.”

“really?” sarada glances at the novel she’d been reading. the husband had stayed faithful during his years away from his wife, but that didn’t stop the drama caused by another character implying infidelity. “how come?”

“how come i believed my husband would be faithful to me, his wife?”

sarada rolls her eyes. “you don’t have to be a smartass.”

her mother laughs. “i’m not trying to be,” she teases. “many reasons. he would never do that to you, for one.”

“that wouldn’t have anything to do with me...”

“it would have everything to do with you,” her mother points out. “he would never do anything to hurt our family. you father loves you so much, sarada.”

“but it’s not about me.”

“well and he wouldn’t do anything to hurt me either.” her mother stops folding the laundry. she glances at sarada’s novel and rolls her eyes at its cheesy cover. “sasuke loves me,” she says. she sounds a little exasperated, as if she’d had to have this conversation too many times, but for her child, she’d power through it once more. “before i was his wife, i was his friend and i was his teammate, and he would never do something to damage our relationship like that.”

“oh.” sarada rubs her neck and wonders why she had to ask about this at all. “o--okay.”

“and besides,” her mother continues, “that’s just not who your father is. something like infidelity -- it’s entirely out of character for him.”

vi. through her eyes

one morning sarada looks at herself and wonders what she might be like had she had green eyes.

it’s a simple thing, but sarada thinks it would make many changes to her life.

for one, she thinks people would have seen her mother in her with a little less struggle. sarada gets it. she’s every bit her father from his colouring to his attitude to his sharingan. but that’s it. nurture was the biggest part of her upbringing and sarada is just like her mother in so many ways undetectable ways.

she probably wouldn’t have been so doubtful during her adolescence, either. deep down, sarada knows her idea was, ultimately, really stupid.

glasses? glasses? she thought she might have had a different mother because of glasses? she doesn’t even want to think about how needlessly convoluted the story would have been, how insulting it would have been to everyone involved, and how utterly absurd it all would be had her stupid, stupid glasses theory been true.

what was she even thinking?

she hurt her mother with those doubts, but her mother is so painfully, foolishly kind and barely spared the apology a moment of thought.

sarada looks at her reflection and thinks she looks like her father, but if she concentrates for a moment, she sees her mother there too.

she’s there in the way sarada smiles, the way she stays confident and leads and comforts others when need be.

she’s there in the way sarada’s hands seek to help those in need. she shatters the ground like her mother, mends wounds like her mother. she doesn’t have the same medical precision, but her mother taught her enough first aid.

and she’s there in the way sarada looks out and is able the best in others. she’s there in sarada’s capacity for hope.

vii. freestyle

when sarada becomes hokage she gains access to a lot more information. she knows she can learn more about her clan’s heritage, but she also feels like that’s something she should address with her father personally. they’ve discussed a few things, but he seems to think he’s protecting her from something so sarada has learned to just leave him alone.

there is one piece of information that catches her off guard though. she goes straight to her parents’ house and with her father out tending to the garden, she sits across from her mother. she drops her hat onto the table and asks her mother:

“why didn’t you become hokage?”

her mother blinks. she’s retired but she’s still one of the finest kunoichi this world has ever seen and she maintains her soft smile. “what do you mean, darling?”

sarada rolls her eyes. “stop that.”

“stop what?”

“pretending.”

“i’m not--”

“i know it was unofficial, but there are still some records,” sarada points out. “tsunade-sama and kakashi asked you to be the next hokage. what...what happened?”

“what happened?” her mother echoes, still grinning. she rolls her eyes as if this is a silly question and then she shrugs. “lots of things really.”

“don’t give me that.”

“it’s true.”

“mama--”

“you happened, sarada.” it sounds like a jab, but her mother reaches across the table to hold her hand. she smiles the way she does when she wants sarada to understand something, but sarada can’t quite comprehend this.

sarada has wanted this role for so long that sometimes she doesn’t remember why she ever did. and to find out it was offered to her mother long ago? and her mother declined it?

“the hokage must devote so much of their time and their life to the village,” her mother explains. she’s said this before to sarada. “i couldn’t do that. i didn’t want to have to be away from you. maybe i’m selfish, choosing you over this village, but i made the right choice and i know it.” she touches sarada’s cheek. “after all, look at what you’ve become.”

sarada wonders what her life would have been like had her mother taken up the mantle when it was offered to her.

would her father have left? would the world still be the same had he not gathered the intel he did in his absence? would she and her mother still have been close? probably not. the seventh loves boruto and boruto loves him too, but their bond is so tense and awkward and love or not, their relationship could never compare to what sarada has with her mother.

sarada considers all the past hokage, so many of them childless, and the ones that did have families ended up fairly estranged. would that have been her and her mother? if her mother had been the seventh, would she have been painting obscenities on the mountain? and god forbid, if her father still had to leave too, what then? would she have been raised by her grandparents? would she--

"i never wanted the role, anyway,” her mother clarifies.

sarada can’t help but snort, because according to the seventh, even her father once made a comment about one day being hokage.

“i wanted to be stronger, i wanted to make the world a better place, and i wanted to make sure your father was happy,” her mother summarizes. “and then when you came along, all i wanted was to make sure you had the best life i could offer you.”

which, sarada understands, she never could have done as hokage.

“oh,” sarada breathes. “o--okay.”

her goals were so simple it’s almost baffling, but her mother has always been a fairly simple woman. sarada nods and wonders why this revelation is so reeling. maybe it’s because given the importance of being hokage to sarada, the fact that her mother could decline it so easily implies just so much.

“you’re my baby,” her mother says.

“mom.”

“you are!”

“ugh--”

“oh stop that.” her mother rolls her eyes. “you think because you’re hokage now, you aren’t my little girl?” she shakes her head. “you’ll always be my baby, sarada.”

“yeah, yeah...”

sarada stays a bit longer, asking about how they’re doing and how boring retirement is and if they’ve developed new old people hobbies. eventually the sun starts to set and her father comes back inside and says he’ll get dinner started. when they ask sarada to join, she declines gently. she slacked off the whole afternoon, after all, just chatting with her mother.

“you did it, by the way,” sarada tells her as she stands. she grabs her hat off the table and her mother stands too, pulling sarada into her arms.

“did what, sweetheart?”

sarada grins. “you gave me the best life you could offer. thank you, mama.”

fin

#fic #sarada uchiha #sakura uchiha

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snickerl · 6 years

Text

Blutendes Herz V

XF fanfiction

Blutendes Herz (Bleeding Heart) is not really a consecutive story but the chapters build upon one another somehow.

Part I can be read here, part II here. Here you will get to part III, and part IV can be found here.

Author's Note: This installment begins exactly like part IV but features an alternative ending which is supposed to soothe the heartache shippers might have suffered from reading the other one. Closure B takes off at the point where Mark asks Scully what her friendship to Mulder really consists of. You can either re-read the first part or jump right into the flow below the cut.

You're sitting on the couch together with your favorite human being. She's pouring you a third cup of tea.

"Thanks for bringing me my favorite tea, Mulder, but you don't have to find excuses every time you come here. Next time, just give me a call when you're in the area and drop by without any of these stupid pretenses."

You scratch the Mexican blanket, the Casablanca DVD, and the funny little porcelain fox she once bought at a garage sale off your mental list. "I hate coming with empty hands, Scully," you reply, not telling her that deep down you're afraid that just you alone is not enough to make your visit worthwhile. That's why you always bring her something she'd left at the house when she moved out.

Just when you started to relax a little, you hear a distinct knock at the door. Your pulse instantly accelerates because of the foreboding sound, whereas she seems to be a picture of calm. "Sounds like Mark. What does he want? When has it become out of style for a man to give a woman a chance to dress properly and freshen up her makeup before he shows up at her doorstep?" she whines, tying her robe tighter. She combs through her hair and rubs her cheeks. You want to tell her that she looks perfect the way she is, that she doesn't need makeup or perfectly styled hair to be beautiful, but you only give her a short, apologetic shrug and sink deeper into the couch cushions, wondering what excuse he might have to drop by at her place just like that.

"Sorry for coming unannounced, my love, but I missed you so much and a man can only wait so long. Impossibly another whole day."

Alright, no pretenses from his side. He's painfully frank about why he's here and his open infatuation is like a cold fist squeezing your heart.

Before Scully is able to reply something, he licks the words off her tongue with a juicy kiss. He shoves her backward into the living-room, his lips glued to hers, maneuvering her to the couch you're sitting on. He obviously plans to engage her in a veritable makeout session, maybe even more, because he clearly wants to plant her flat out on the comfortable piece of furniture. Unfortunately, your long legs are in the way. You try to pull your feet back, but there's not enough space, so you can't prevent him from stumbling over them.

"What the..." he hisses. It takes him a moment to assess what has just happened, but then his facial features morph from utter surprise into boundless fury in a matter of nanoseconds. "You? What the hell are you doing here?" he bellows at you, clearly not pleased at all to see you.

As there is no real justification for you to be here other than that you, like him, simply wanted to see her, and you doubt he would be amused by this one, all you can come up with is the same excuse you gave her earlier.

"I brought Scully a box of tea she forgot at our house." If this feeble attempt to explain your being here wasn't so damn embarrassing, you might have burst into laughter at how ridiculous you sound. But you don't feel like laughing, and neither does he.

"What? You brought her tea? A year after she left you? Are you kidding me?" His voice has become louder with every word. In the end, he's yelling at you.

"Mark," the receiver of the tea intervenes, "would you calm down, please. There's no need to shout like this."

"Who knows how many times I've seen him here? Four, five? And how often has he been here without me even knowing? Huh, Dana?"

"You're not seriously expecting me to give you an account of who I meet with when you're not around, are you?" Her eyes indicate quite clearly that his boring questions are pissing her off. You've never seen her eyebrows melt into her hairline like this, and you've been at the receiving end of her indignation countless times. You're an expert, actually, on what she looks like when she's mad.

Mark is unwavering tough in his current state of anger. "You're entertaining other men in your pajamas when I'm not here, Dana, and it's supposed to leave me cold? Really?"

Your breath is halted. Of course, he doesn't know that Scully in a robe was so common to you even before you became romantically involved that it really is no big deal. Actually, you haven't really noticed she was in her pajamas when you got here until she said she would go change quickly and you told her not to be silly. You saw each other in hospital gowns, nightwear, undergarments, naked more than any other working duo on the planet, so seeing your former spouse in a pair of flannel PJs underneath a thick white terry cloth robe isn't inappropriate one bit. For you, that is. His attitude varies slightly from yours.

"What are you implying here, Mark?" Scully asks tight-lipped, although it's pretty obvious. Regardless that he is miles off target with his suspicions, you feel a pleasant twitch in your groin. An unexpected, yet very pleasant one.

"He's more to you than just a friend, right?"

There, he speaks it out. His voice is weirdly distorted when he draws imaginable quotation marks into the air pronouncing the word 'friend'.

CLOSURE B - Shippers: Everything's Yar

The innuendo is hovering above you like a heavy rain cloud imminent to empty itself upon you. Scully feels it too, and she decides to let the drops fall and soak you.

"You're right, Mark, Mulder is more to me than a friend."

"I knew it," he hisses through clenched teeth.

"It's not what you think, though."

"Ugh, come on, Dana, don't give me this shit. You simply never stopped loving him, that's it, and I was a welcome stopgap to help you cope with your separation, some stupid jerk who boosted your self-esteem adoring you and putting himself at your feet. What an idiot I've been."

"Wow," she mutters, "this is how you think of me? That I would use you like this? I thought you knew me better."

"Well, do we ever really know a person? Know all their motivations and thoughts, every hidden corner of their soul?"

You'd like to tell him that you do. You know Scully's soul better than your own. You can draw a map of every wound that soul has suffered from. You can tell exactly how high the wall is she's built around herself at any given moment and why it's there in the first place. You're able to follow her lines of thought without her having to utter a single word. If he knew how he's wronging her just now, he would keep his fucking mouth shut.

You can't help but back her up. "Would you take it down a notch, Mark? Why don't you just listen to what she's saying?"

"Don't you tell me what to do!" he bellows at you, angry beads of spit splashing out of his contorted mouth. You can't blame him. You remember how you reacted to the Ed Jerse incident all those years ago, and you hadn't even been a couple back then. Jealousy can do peculiar things to a once self-assured man.

"Mark, please sit down and listen to me," Scully says, "I never used you, neither did I ever lie to you. There are certain things I haven't told you, that's true, things about Mulder and myself, but not to betray you but because they are-"

Mark's hands shoot up to silence her. "Wait, let me say it, Dana," he demands, his voice sharp as a knife, "because they are cla-ssi-fied. What a perfect excuse for everything!"

"Well, they are, I can't help it," she replies steadfastly, "I'm not keeping them from you to hide any secrets you obviously think I have but to spare you the ugliness of what I've seen. Believe me, you don't want to know what Mulder and I dealt with. I understand that it's not easy for you and that I'm demanding a lot, but this is the only way it's going to work between us. If you cannot trust me on this, if you can't give me credit here, I don't see how we are going to continue our relationship."

"That's rich, Dana, really! Now I have to be thankful that you're protecting me from the world's villainy? Great! Like a boy who doesn't get told that his hamster died while he was in school."

She stares at him, bewilderment and disbelief written all over her face. "I can't believe we're having this conversation, Mark. I thought we had an understanding that my work with the FBI was part of my past I wanted to leave behind me."

"Can you at least tell me what you meant when you said he's more to you than a friend? I'm sorry that I'm so pathetically territorial here but I need to know there's nothing going on between you, otherwise I'm going to get crazy."

He seems to have forgotten that you're still here, or he doesn't care. You wished she had let you go a few minutes ago. You feel out of place and not entitled to listen to this conversation but you also know that your being here gives her strength. The two of you have got nothing indecent to hide from him, as much as you'd like there was.

"Please, baby, tell me what's so special about him that you can't let go of him," Mark implores, sounding so pleading and vulnerable all of a sudden, you can't but sincerely pity him.

Scully looks at her boyfriend. You notice compassion for him in her eyes, how seeing him falling apart in front of her touches her deeply. She will tell him, you realize, and your stomach feels as if you've just swallowed a pile of glass shards. You try to shield yourself from what you're going to hear because it will be as painful for you as it will be for her.

After another moment of silence she needs to muster up the strength to articulate the words, you hear her say, "he's the father to my son. Mulder and I have a child together."

Boom! The bomb has exploded.

You feel dizzy as the aftershocks ripple in waves through your body. Mark has turned into a pillar of salt. You're actually not sure he's still breathing. He stares at Scully with eyes wide and his mouth gaping. "I'm sorry, what?" he finally manages to utter.

"His name is William. He's thirteen."

"You have a son?"

"Yes."

After a moment he needs to process the information, Mark jumps up from his chair. The loud bang of the backrest making contact with the floor tears the silence apart that has been thickening the atmosphere in the room up to a point you feel you're suffocating.

"I can't believe this! For the six months we've been together you didn't deem me worthy to let me know this of you? That you are a mother?"

"I'm not a mother. Not anymore."

You feel like throwing up. You inhale deeply to fight the nausea. What you want to prevent from happening under all circumstances is that they turn their attention to you because you're emptying the contents of your stomach into the kitchen sink. This is not about you, although you play an important role in this. This is about Scully and Mark.

"What do you mean not anymore? Is he dead?"

Scully gasps. Tears flood her eyes and you see how hard she struggles not to lose her composure and break out in crying. You have to help her out.

"We don't know for sure, but we can assume that he is alive," you tell him, and to her you say, "we have every reason to believe he's safe and happy, Scully."

That's all you're going to say. What's more to explain needs to come from her. Mark won't understand anything with the cryptic way the two of you have been beating around the bush so far. How can he?

As if on cue he croaks, "what's that supposed to mean?"

"I gave him up for adoption a few weeks before he turned one. I insisted on a closed adoption, so we have no information whatsoever about him." Her voice is calm and firm. She has once again managed to detach herself from the painful emotions, talking as if she was giving facts on a case.

"You gave your child up for adoption? I can't quite believe this, Dana. It doesn't sound the least like you. You're far too caring and giving for me to be able to picture this. You love kids. You work up to exhaustion to cure the children in your hospital, and I've seen you together with your nephews and niece and together with my kids. I can't imagine a reason why you should be giving away your own son."

You hate to admit it, but he impresses you. He's not judgemental or self-righteous, he's not blaming or condemning her like so many other people who have learned this about her, including her own brother. He is quite the contrary. "What happened, sweetheart?" he asks in a gentle voice full of empathy and reaches out to her but she pulls her hands away. 'Come on, Scully,' you want to call out to her, 'let your guard down. Open up to him.' But her eyes are glued to her entwined fingers, the knuckles white from kneading them fiercely. She bites her lower lip so hard you're afraid she'll draw blood. The tension wafting off of her is palpable, the inner turmoil readable.

She looks at you, questioning you what to do in the wordless communication you have perfected between you over the years. You give a nod that has to be almost invisible to Mark but is to Scully as if you were gesticulating wildly with both arms. She gets it. She clears her throat, wiping her palms on her thighs in what is an irrational replacement activity. You know that her hands get cold when she's tensed-up, not sweaty. You want to take them in yours, warm them up with your body heat because you actually are on fire, but you're aware that this is her battle to fight. You've talked to your therapist more than once about William, you're not sure she's ever talked to anyone about him, really talked about him. So you catch your breath with relief when she starts to speak.

"I longed for this child. I wanted to be a mother so badly, I had even tried IVF at a time I was single."

"IVF? With a sperm donation?" Mark asks.

"Uhm, yes," she answers shyly. You can see how hard she tries not to look at you. She most certainly doesn't want to give him a clue about the donor's identity.

"But it didn't take it," he concludes correctly.

"No. No, it didn't. I was told I couldn't conceive naturally, so this had been my only chance. A very slim chance, but I was so hopeful and therefore devastated when it failed and I had to accept that I was never going to have a child. About two years later, something that can only be called a miracle happened and I became pregnant the...uhm...the old-fashioned way."

Now she does look at you and Mark takes his eyes off of her to look at you too. He arches an eyebrow, you literally see the movie running in front of his mind's eye and you do everything you can to keep the sweet smile off your face that is tugging at the corners of your mouth. What a magical night that was!

Mark refocuses on Scully. "You call it a miracle, so I take it you were happy when you found out you were pregnant."

"Indescribably. The pregnancy and childbirth weren't without complications, though."

You almost laugh at the ridiculous understatement. A presumably dead father, the everpresent fear that her pregnancy was engineered, that her baby wasn't normal, plus a childbirth witnessed by supersoldiers were actually poisonous to the experience, not *complicating* it. She was finally in a state she had yearned for so long and then she wasn't allowed to enjoy it like any expectant mother should. The injustice of it all still makes you curse everything and everyone: fate, God...the Cigarette Smoking Man and his cronies.

"But when William was finally born and I was holding my healthy baby in my arms, I was so happy. I thought that a wonderful life was waiting for me together with my beautiful son and his father."

So did you. The kiss you shared with her in her apartment was so promising. You finally had the feeling you had found your home, somewhere you could settle down and someone you belonged to. Your bliss lasted exactly for 48 hours - the most wonderful 48 hours of your entire life - before you had to leave the woman you had eventually allowed yourself to love and the baby boy who had taken possession of your heart the moment you first held him in your arms.

"How naïve I was. How stupid," Scully whispers more to herself than Mark, completely sunken in her painful memories.

"Where the hell were you, Mulder?" Mark obviously has problems making sense of what he's been hearing so far.

"I, uh-" you start without even knowing what to say when Scully leapfrogs you. "Mulder's life was at stake. He had to go into hiding."

"I see. He saved his sorry ass and left you and the baby alone."

"I told him to get himself out of harm's way."

"Of course you're defending him but seriously, what kind of man leaves a woman who's just given birth all to herself with a newborn?"

You can't but agree. What kind of man did that to her?

"Our lives would've also been threatened if he had stayed."

"Sure, he did you a favor heaving all the responsibility onto you." Sarcasm is dripping off of every word.

"You weren't there, Mark. Don't judge Mulder for what he did if you don't have any idea what it was like back then."

You can't stand her speaking on behalf of you. You don't deserve it. "He's right, Scully. I shouldn't have left. My place was at your side. Yours and William's."

"Don't be ridiculous, Mulder! You know that had you stayed, they would've gotten you. What would've been the purpose of you staying?"

"The purpose, Scully? The purpose would've been not to walk away from the only two people in the world that were important to me."

You gaze at each other, both briefly oblivious of the third person in the room until said person coughs uncomfortably and brings you back into the here and now. You both turn your heads and look away from each other, startled by the unexpected intensity of the moment.

Scully clears her throat. "Well, Mulder, dead you wouldn't have been of any help either."

No, of course not, but you would've had more than just two days with your family. You would've gotten to know your son better than what was possible in only 48 hours. How many more time would you have had before they shot a bullet through your head? A week? A month? A year? You might have been able to see William sit upright, eat his first solid food, crawl or babble his first words. Mommy, most probably, and maybe even daddy. You could've watched Scully as a mother. You were struck by the radiance of her smile when she was nursing him, you would've loved to see more of her parental bliss. Every single day more with your son and his mother would've been worth your inevitable violent decease.

But you chose to listen to Scully and Skinner in their efforts to convince you to go underground, They told you it would be better for the three of you. When you were lying all alone in a bed in some shaggy motel room in the middle of nowhere, thinking of Scully and William until your heart bled, you weren't so sure anymore that it had been the right decision. When you finally reunited with her in a dark, cold prison cell months later, a broken woman was kneeling in front of you, begging you for forgiveness although you had no right to blame her for anything.

"Honestly, Dana," Mark and his full voice pull you out of your painful reminiscences, "I can imagine that as FBI agents you had to deal with the scum of society and that you put your life on the line every once in a while, but that agents have to go underground to protect themselves and their families from getting killed is new to me. Is that a regular professional hazard you accept when you sign your contract?"

"We were Special Agents. We worked for a unit called the X-Files. Our cases were very much out of the ordinary," she explains without really revealing what kind of individuals you were dealing with. Some hadn't even been human.

"And because of an extraordinary case, Mulder had to hide?" Mark tries to understand.

"We had messed up with some very powerful forces during the course of our work. Almighty forces. Forces that moved people around like pawns on a chess board."

"Such as?"

Scully avoids Mark's eyes. Failing an answer, she hangs her head, presses her lips together and simply shrugs. He knows what to make of her reaction. "Classified," he notes dryly and gets an affirmative nod. "Okay, so you sent Mulder away two days after your son was born. He wasn't there to help you with the baby. I got this. But that can't possibly the reason why you gave...uh, what was his name again?"

"William," the two of you croak in unison and Scully heaves a sad sigh.

"Look, Mark," you rise to speak, "this is all quite painful for Scully. For the both of us. Allow me to cut this a little short. Not only Scully and I were pawns, but so was William. Due to the nature of our work the circumstances are-"

Mark raises a hand to stop you. "Ah, Mulder, let me say it once again: classified." He lets the word roll off of his tongue with relish, as if it were a sip of well-aged single malt, only that he isn't enjoying the taste.

"Right, but let me tell you this much: Scully acted out of pure love for her son. With giving him up, she took him out of the game. You have to understand, on their chess board he wasn't a simple pawn like us, he was the king, the most valuable token they had. Only far away from us in an adoptive family was he able to lead a normal life, a life out of reach of the forces that meant us harm. Scully made the biggest of sacrifices for a mother to make."

"It was our sacrifice as parents. I'm so sorry that I couldn't protect him, Mulder," you hear her whisper. While your look rests on Scully's slouched figure, out of the corner of your eye you notice how her boyfriend picks up the chair he's knocked over earlier and slumps down on it.

Her guilt pangs make you feel awful. All these years, you haven't managed to dissipate her worries that you held her accountable for the loss of William. "Don't you dare apologize to me, Scully. None of this is your fault. All this shit you've been through centers around me, I'm the one to blame here."

"Mulder, you know I chose this life at your side many years ago and never regretted it."

"That doesn't keep me from believing that you would've been better off without me. You deserved far more than what you've got."

"Nonsense. How often do I have to tell you that I would do it all over again?"

You have nothing to say to this. She's told you this many times, that she never regretted having chosen this life although it cost her so much, and as much as you wished for her to have this other, carefree life full of joy and light, you thank the gods above that against all odds she'd chosen to be with you, you selfish sonofabitch.

"Wow."

The man who's set this conversation in motion earlier in a pang of jealousy brings himself back into focus. You have almost forgotten he's still there, listening to what Scully and you had to say to each other. Poor guy, this can't be something you want your girlfriend and her ex to be talking about while you're in the room. Actually, this can't be something you want your girlfriend and her ex to be talking about at all.

"Your relationship really is one of a kind." Mark is shaken by a bitter chuckle. "Listen to you! You're so fucking tender with each other it makes me question my position in this threesome."

You can't believe the word he's chosen. "Threesome?" you make sure you heard him right.

"Yes, threesome." He pauses for a moment until he stares hostilely right at you. "Let me ask you this, Mulder...has it bothered you even for a second that there was someone else when you decided to sneak back into her life? Huh? I mean, honestly, haven't you heard that trying to steal a guy's girlfriend behind his back is no way to behave among men?"

"Mark, please! Would you stop being so possessive!" Scully implores. "I don't like it. Plus, there's no need for you to make such a scene."

"You keep saying that, Dana. You allayed my suspicions more than once, assuring me of your affection for me and that he and you are just friends," he snarls.

"We are just friends," she shouts back at him.

He chuckles again. It's a mocking, sore chuckle. "You really believe what you're saying? What I've just seen here weren't two friends but two people showing me so much syrupy devotion to one another, it makes me gag."

His harsh words bring tears to her eyes, and you hate him for it. He doesn't understand anything, or maybe, actually, he understands it all.

"It's so damn obvious that I'm the fifth wheel here, I think I better go."

He jumps off the chair which threatens to tip over once again. He grabs his jacket and strides toward the door, but Scully blocks his way. "No, please, don't go!"

"Why? Why do you want me to stay?"

"Because...because I really enjoy being with you."

"You know what, Dana? This I actually do believe. You enjoy being with me. You like me. Maybe even a lot. But not even once did I hear from you that you loved me. I don't blame you, don't get me wrong. I know that in a relationship, there's always one party more deeply in love than the other and I guess in our relationship that party is supposed to be me. It's not a very pleasant position to be in, I have to tell you. I've been there already with my marriage to Jessica, and I'm not going there again. I'm sorry. I'm really madly in love with you, Dana, but if you can't love me back the way I love you, and I've just been shown that you can't, I have to get the hell out of here to save my neck."

"What is it you're saying, Mark?" she whispers in a trembling voice although she knows. You do too.

Mark cups Scully's face, tilting it up to make her look at him. His voice is gentle now, his features calm and peaceful. "I'm saying..." He sighs, clenches his jaw so hard you see his muscles throb, inhales deeply through his nose, then continues in an even softer voice, "I'm saying that you are a stunning woman. You're breathtakingly beautiful, you're sensitive, warm, giving. You were a wonderful mother, of that I'm sure. I fell for you the moment you stepped into my office. The man who gets to be loved by you is one lucky guy. Unfortunately, I'm not that man. I wished I was, but I'm not and never will be. Someone else in this room is. I've been enjoying my time with you, Dana, a lot, but I have to protect my heart from being broken, and it will be broken if I stay."

"Mark," Scully starts feebly but is silenced by his lips on hers. It's a chaste kiss, their mouths lingering on each other in a tender touch.

"Take care, sweet Dana," he says while swiping the remains of the kiss off her lips with his thumb. "And you, asshole," he starts talking to you without taking his eyes off of her, "you better get your shit together and make her happy."

He moves toward the door. His hand is already reaching for the knob when he turns around to look at you both. "Go find this son of yours. Build the family you both so achingly long for. You were both FBI agents, for Christ's sake, you know how to get information about someone, don't you? Classified or not."

He opens the door and walks through it but stops in the hallway once again. Without looking back he says one more thing. "Send me a Christmas card of the three of you." Then he's gone.

Scully is rooted to the ground. She stares after him, frozen, not even blinking an eye. You close the door softly and lean your back against it. You're downright flabbergasted by the ultimate course of events. You really have to give him credit. You'd bow to him if he was still here. That was some kind of a dignified exit off the stage. You're beginning to understand why she'd gotten involved with him. The man has class.

"I'm sorry, Scully," you mumble, "that's not what I came here for, today."

"I don't know what to say," she whispers, tears streaming down her cheeks. "I'm an awful person."

"No, you're not."

"I treated him badly, took advantage of him."

"Did you listen at all? He said you were stunning and that he treasures the time with you. No man praises a woman like that if he feels taken advantage of."

"I should've never gotten involved with him. It was not fair to let him believe that I could ever...after what we had...I mean...argh."

She pushes you aside and takes angry strides back into the living-room. Your heart breaks seeing her in so much despair. All you wanted when you came here was to share her company for a while. You didn't mean to chase her boyfriend away, although, if you're being honest, for your own selfish reasons, you're glad he's gone.

Some of what he'd said to her is still ringing in your ear.

"Is he right, Scully?"

"Right with what?"

"That I...uhm, that the other man in this room was in the lucky position to be loved by you?"

Mark Finlay isn't the first man to make such a remark. Many years ago, Philipp Padgett, the writer who lived next door to you, told you that Scully couldn't fall in love like he'd written in one of his stories because she already was in love. He meant in love with you but you were too slow-witted to be able to put two and two together at the time.

"Mulder, you know that the reason for me to leave you was not that I had fallen out of love with you."

She can't hide that she doesn't really want to talk about it right now, but you have to know so you insist. "That's not what he was trying to say, I guess."

"No, maybe not."

"And?"

She looks at you with her beautiful blue eyes that are now red and puffy from crying. "Mulder, let me process the relationship that has just ended before contemplating another one, okay?"

"Sure."

You clear your throat. You're a bit embarrassed. What did you expect? That she would fall into your arms right away and kiss you as if she only waited for Mark to disappear? She had been serious about this man, she had really wanted to give this relationship a try. You just realize how close you'd been to losing her. If it wasn't for the bond you share through William, the time you'd become estranged from one another during the height of your depression could have been fatal to your relationship. The son who left your life as an infant keeps holding the two of you together, how ironic is that?

Scully is standing at the window with her back turned to you, her body posture rigid. She's folded her arms around herself and you see her shoulders rise and fall with every breath she takes. She's upset and confused. You'd like to envelop her in a comforting embrace, stroke her back while she buries her face in your chest and place a kiss into her hair - strictly platonic, without any ulterior motives - but you're not sure it'd be much appreciated. Scully hates to be vulnerable. You can count on the fingers of one hand how often she allowed you to see her in a moment of weakness, the moment she told you that she'd given up William being one of them.

"Scully?" you break the deafening silence.

"Hmm?"

"Do you think he's right about...this, uh, other thing?"

You hold your breath.

"What other thing?"

Her eyes are still locked on something outside.

"William. That we should track him down."

You think you're able to see how the last bit of strength leaves her body. For a moment, you fear she's going to collapse like a marionette whose strings have been cut off, but then she recomposes herself. She straightens her shoulders and her voice is quiet but firm when she starts to speak.

"I sometimes imagine what he looks like. I picture him tall and lanky as you, with brown, thick hair. He hadn't grown enough of it when I handed him over to the social worker to be able to tell what color it would eventually be. His eyes had my color, but most babies are born with blue eyes, especially fair-skinned ones like him. They have very little melanin in their eyes, the pigment that gives color to the eyes, skin, and hair. The eyes sometimes don't produce much melanin, if any, while the baby is in the womb. After birth, light stimulates the production of it, which is why the eye color may darken or change over time. His eyes were still blue when I last looked into them, so maybe they still are."

You haven't seen Science Scully for a while, but there she is, rational and detached as ever, letting facts capture the space where emotions are too painful.

"I wonder what he's like as a schoolboy. Does he like science like I do or is he more gifted in the fine arts and attends a theater or writing class? If he has inherited your height, which I hope he has, he plays basketball probably or he is a good swimmer, maybe, like you. I bet he loves pizza like all teenagers his age, and computer games. Maybe he has a dog. It's nice for kids to grow up with a dog. I've always been a dog person. If he was living with us, we would have a dog, for sure. An Irish Terrier maybe, or a Jack Russell. Those are funny."

She's in another world, a dream world, where she keeps William around. You ask yourself whether this really is a healthy way to cope with the loss. You're not sure and you make a mental note to ask your therapist. You see the same broken woman you saw all those years ago in your prison cell, bereft of everything good in her life, and you realize you're the only person who's able to keep the fragments of her together, which is why Mark never stood a real chance against you. Only you have the ability to glue the pieces of her shattered existence together and make her a whole person. It's your advantage over all men that think they could hit on her, but it's also an obligation. You've seen what happens to her when you're not fulfilling your duty. She gets lost and disoriented with all the choices she'd made being proven wrong after all. You are her lifeline, the x-axis to the y-axis in her coordinate system. It's your damn responsibility to be the man she needs you to be after all the sadness you've brought into her life.

You approach her cautiously, for she's so buried in her contemplations that you're afraid to startle her. 'Take her by the hand and guide her,' you hear your inner voice tell you, so that's what you do. Your fingertips graze the back of her hand which is now dangling lifelessly at the end of an equally lifeless arm, which belongs to a lifeless woman. She doesn't react, is not taking the hand you're offering her. Her walls are up, you realize. Two rows of solid bricks, erected to shut everyone out, to retreat and deal with the pain all by herself. But you won't let her. Not this time. The two of you made that mistake once, each dealing alone with the loss of William, you won't let it happen again. This time, you're going to hold on to her and you're going to help her heal.

"I'm here, Scully," you whisper into her ear.

EPILOGUE

"Mr. Finlay, there's a private letter for you in the mail today. It's on your desk," the agency's intern who is responsible for distributing the incoming mail tells him.

"Thank you, Chad," Mark replies, but the boy is already gone.

He puts his briefcase on his desk and switches the desk lamp on. It's still dark in the morning at this time of year. He pushes the button on his phone to listen to the messages on his voicebox and takes a sip of the coffee he's brought along. He lets himself fall into his chair and sighs. Two more weeks until Christmas, then he will have two weeks off. He will spend Christmas Eve with his ex-wife and the kids this year. He's resolved all his issues with Jessica and they are able to converse on a friendly basis again, which is good for their two children, Benjamin, 12, and Louise, 15. He leans back in his chair and contemplates his agenda for the day when his eyes fall on the envelope on his desk with the note 'confidential'.

He reaches out and takes it in his hand. The paper is thick and there's a commemorative stamp with a Christmas ball on it. Season greetings, obviously. How many has he already received of these? All his clients, and he's got lots of them, send him season greetings, and the house owners, who want him to find tenants for their properties. This particular letter is also from a client, a very special one. He recognizes her handwriting instantly and has to smile.

He doesn't want to rip the envelope, so he opens the top drawer of his desk and takes a letter opener out. He positions the point at one corner and slides the sharp blade through the paper. He puts the opener back into the drawer and closes it slowly. He takes another sip of coffee before he pulls the card out.

The front only says Season Greetings, but when he unfolds it, he looks at some familiar faces. Two out of three are familiar at least, the third person is unknown to him but is so much a combination of the other two that he has to laugh. It's a teenage boy with the same thick dark hair as his father and the blue eyes of his mother.

He takes a closer look at the woman's face and is taken aback by the sheer elation etched on her face. Her eyes are sparkling and her toothy grin almost reaches her ears. He's never seen her that happy, which hurts him a little because he'd always thought that she had been happy with him also. Maybe she was, but not as happy as she could be, as happy as she is with this other man. Below the picture, he finds a personal note from her.

Mark, hope you are well. Thanks for everything. Dana.

His eyes fall on the man. With his long arms put around the other two, he looks like a proud family man determined to do everything in his power to care for and to protect his loved ones. "Well done, asshole," Mark mumbles, "looks like you've really gotten your shit together."

He takes his iPhone out, opens the messenger app and touches the profile picture of one of his favorite contacts. Hey Jess, he types, looking forward to spending Xmas with you and the kids this year. XOXO, Mark. He hesitates for a moment, then presses send. He watches for the indication that the message is being delivered and smiles when the little blue check tells him that's it's been received. The green dot next to his ex-wife's name indicates that she's online right now.

A few seconds later, her reply gets in. Me too, and a smiling emoji.

END

#xf fanfiction #msr #i love happy endings #dana scully #fox mulder #mark finlay #enjoy sailing shippers

28 notes · View notes

forebodingowl · 4 years

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i really need to get back to writing in here. i dont think i have for an entire month, or at least 3 weeks! every thing has been going okay. i mostly do art or set up streaming stuff on my computer at daytime, and then i read comics and go to sleep. still doing self care. slacking a little bit on it so i need to bring exfoliation back to my daily skin care routine. got almost all my furniture set up now except for my vanity. i can finally put my clothes in the dresser instead of searching through the box. things have been good. i see asa every week. i love him and he is so kind and patient with me and does so much for me. i did a blue diamond makeup test and it came out BEAUTIFUL , i am so proud of it. i also have been making tik toks sometimes and they’re kind of funny, so i like that about me too recently haha. i have like 0 summer clothes and no a/c so i’ve been sweating my fucking ass off. i ordered a bunch of summer clothes off Romwe and i’m waiting for those to ship, they probably wont be here till first of july. and i’m hoping to have an a/c in a week. its going to be in the 90s this weekend tho so i’m just gonna have to suffer through that.

i havent worked out or eaten healthy in a couple weeks. i’ve been eating wayyyyy too much take out and i need to chill with that. i need to save money. my grandpa ken said he’s sending a $500 check to me in the mail so i’m going to use that for the a/c. so random from him because i havent seen him in a long time. i’m going to go back to writing in this every night and morning because it super helped keep me on track. i’ll post my to do list for tomorrow right after i finish this journal. i have to finish cleaning my room tonight and finish filling my dresser with clothes (the dresser asa built and put up for me). i’ve been drawing some fanart of dotflow, a horror game asa showed me, and for a music video Ashnikko and Grimes did together for their song Cry. I loved the early 2000s CgI graphics of it and the little plot about revenge and grief. i’m drawing a scene from it with her floating in 0G in her gundam space ship while crying, and he tears are floating up., i want to make it a gif of the tears going up and maybe move the body up and down so it looks like it’s floating. i am trying to go to bed earlier these days and i am pretty tired tonight from the heat and not much sleep with asa so i thinkk i’m going to rest well, and i’m going to take some sleeping meds to make sure of it.

UGHHHHH i love asa so much he is so GOOD TO MEEEE, i am so so so damn lucky to know him. i want to be better to him so i got him a bunch of gifts off etsy to make him a nice little present. i am sooooo excited because i ordered a bunch of stuff that has to do with his favorite games and stuff. i think he is really really really gonna like it. hmmm. my grandma blocked me on facebook because i dont support police and i do support BLM.

oh thats something new that happened since last time. the BLM protests after the killing of George Floyd. Protests not just here in America, but all over the world. It’s so beautiful i could cry right now thinking about it. people are shouting to defund the police, and to charge police with their unprovoked killings of black people. i want all of that. i want people to get better and i want black people to feel safe and loved. i’m crying lol. it’s just so fucking sad. it’s soooooo sad. i really hope we can start a revolution. i hope this just doesnt fizzle out when people get tired. its hard work.

on top of that, coronavirus is still a thing here thats still killing people and spreading. apparently even if you heal from it, it leaves your body wrecked for the rest of your life. young healthy people who recovered from it now have asthma and extreme exhaustion among other things. this one young healthy girl had to have a double lung transplant, it ruined her lungs so bad. she could have died. i dont understand why the world is like this. i’m sooooo fucking sad. i dont understand why we cant all work to make a society that takes care of everyone and makes sure everyone lives happy comfortable peaceful lives. why is there so much evil? the point of society is to work together to make each other happy. to take care of each other. why havent we ever been able to do that? hasnt the cruelty gone on long enough? i hope i live to see some sort of change. but who knows with the way global warming is doing too, and politicians not taking it seriously and allowing huge corporations to continue polluting the earth. capitalism ruined everything and the money machine is evil and greedy.

i dont want to leave this on too sad of a note. i lov e my friends and hold them dear to my heart. they are my family and all i think about all of the time. i know i am doing good and i am safe and i thank my lucky stars for all the good in my life. i am such a lucky lucky girl. ive been feeling so happy. oh shit i forgot to reschedule with my psychiatrist lmao, i’ll set an alarm to do that and to call my grandpa tomorrow.

i love you sabrina. you deserve all of the love that you receive. everyone loves you because you are such a caring gentle soul, you are so funny and creative and full of life. you are so full of fun and you are clever and adventurous. theres so much good in you and people see that and are drawn to you. take care of yourself beautiful. love yourself. you can do anything. <3

#journal

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adambstingus · 7 years

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10 Fun, Cheap Date Nights You Can Have At Home (That Aren’t Netflix)

How often have I babbled on about the importance of keeping the romance alive in your relationship? Im not trying to be annoying or repetitive, but it is important! I am a firm believer that religiously practicing date night on a regular basis is crucial to relationship health. Let me be mores specific. Im not talking about a double or triple date where the conversation is flying six different ways. I do love those group dates with my favorite couples, but I am talking about the importance of one-on-one dates with your boo. Setting aside quality time to spend with your hubby with no distractions is like an apple a day for your relationship.

To keep these date nights interesting, youll want to mix it up and try new things. Obviously, date night has the potential of becoming a very expensive activity. Try hitting up Groupon and Living Social for not only cheap dates, but dates you would have never thought of yourself, like flying trapeze classes or a painting class at a local bar. But for those of us that arent rolling in the dough, these internet deals can still be a splurge. Dont worry, I am here to tell you that you can still have a date night every two weeks (or once a month, whichever you fancy) at home and on a budget. Here are some creative ways to make your date night romantic, entertaining, and low cost.

1. Living Room Camping

This is one has sentimental value to me. When my fianc and I first started dating I was going through a rough time in generally and the bad days at work didnt help. When Id had a particularly crappy day, I would come home to find a good old fashioned fort in the living room. The outside was made with sheets and furniture; inside he made a comfortable cushioned floor using pillows and comforters. We would take refuge inside the fort and forget about all of our problems. Dont knock it until you try it! Use your fireplace or some candles as a mock campfire, roast some marshmallows and tell ghost stories. How does that not sound like a good time?

2. Outdoor Dining

If youve got a nice or even just a clean backyard, use it! Set up a small table for two outside complete with candles and a bottle of wine. Put on some nice background music and have a good old fashioned backyard dinner. Its very romantic. Unlike eating on patio of a restaurant with twenty other couples sharing your moment, this makes for a very private and intimate setting. Think your backyard or patio doesnt have the ambiance needed for outdoor dining? An easy fix is to hang cheap outdoor lights. Its amazing how one detail can work wonders on setting the mood.

3. Boudoir Photo Shoot

Okay, so if you are a little more on the reserved side (cough, prude, cough), this one may not be your cup of tea, but hear me out before you rule it out completely. Date night is supposed to be all out coming together with your significant other and getting intimate. I think this is pretty intimate, not to mention fun for all parties involved. Start by choosing a designated back drop like a free wall, a hanging sheet, the bed, etc. Pick a few different pieces of lingerie to change into. Give your guy a camera (prob best if its not a camera phone, dont want these pictures accidentally getting posted on Facebook or Instagram), and let him take control of the photo shoot. Youre the model, he is the director. Enjoy (insert winky face here).

4. Wine Tasting

If you and your guy are wine-os, youll love this one. Use your kitchen table, bar, or coffee table. Set out a few different bottles of wine and glasses. Make sure to set out some food that pairs well with what youll be drinking, think cheeses, veggies, bread, etc. No food equals getting drunk way too fast, passing out early, and a nasty hangover. That being said, take your time as you would if you were in Napa on a rustic vineyard. Swirl, sniff, sip, and then discuss your opinions on flavor and stuff. Obviously I am not well educated on wine specifics, but you dont have to be to enjoy this. Its just you and your boo, no wine snobs to make you feel dumb. If you are a wine snob, great! Youll have fun with this one too and there wont be any amateurs to slow down your night. Remember to light some candles and put on background music!

5. Game Night

Game night can go one of three ways and Ill leave it up to you to try one or all three. The first is nostalgia game night. Choose your favorite childhood board games (mine are Candy Land and Operation) and laugh at the memories over a bottle of wine or your favorite beer. The second is adult game night. This includes a more grown up version with games like Cards Against Humanity. The third is x-rated game night. Go to your local sex shop or search online for an intimate adult game. There are tons to choose from involving blind folds, melted chocolate, and roll of the body part dice. Whether you choose PG, x-rated, or all three, game night with your handsome babe is sure to be loads of fun.

6. Project/Craft Night

With all of the hours we spend pinning cool crafts on Pinterest, this option seems very appealing. But please, for the love of god, do not make your significant other do something he will hate like knitting or scrap-booking. Choose a house project youve been meaning to get around to or a fun project you can both be involved in. Make sure this is an activity that interests BOTH of you, not just you and not just him. Youll also make sure this is something that is more fun than it is hard work, remember you are doing this as a date. Order a pizza or take out and of course you can add alcohol to the mix if you fancy. Put on your favorite Pandora station and get to work. My man and I did this as a date night with a painting I had seen on Pinterest. It was a hand painting in which each family members hand was in a different color and the prints were all over the canvas, overlapping each other. It looked really cool, so we tried it and of course included the dogs. It was interesting night to say the least, dogs and paint can get messy. No matter, now we have a somewhat decent piece of handmade art to hang in our home.

7. Karaoke

Yes, Blake and I have done this and it was so much fun! We didnt plan on it, it just happened. We started one night with tacos and margaritas, an hour later we were taking turns on the Play Station 3 mic and singing our little hearts out. A bit of heads up, this may not be the greatest idea if you have close proximity neighbors who dont like crappy singing and loud music. If you can, do this! Such a great way to let loose with the one you love. Not into singing? No problem, make it a dance party instead. Im not a video game person, not in the slightest, but karaoke and dancing games are perfect for this. We have Sing Star and Just Dance for Play Station. If you dont have these games but want to try them, check your local rental store or RedBox. You wont regret this one!

8. Spa Session

I know what youre thinking, my manly man wont even get in a bubble bath. First of all, that sucks for him. Second of all, he will end up truly enjoying this one if he approaches it with an open mind. Okay ladies, dont torture your men! No tweezing, waxing, or anything else that is painful and/or will change his appearance. Thats how youll send him running and screaming out of the bathroom. Instead, make this a relaxation effort, not a make over. Run a warm bubble bath with salts and scented oils. While youre waiting for the tub to fill, start with a face mask. I like the warming ones, they immediately send my mind into relaxation mode. Help your beau apply and rinse off his mask. Slip into the tub together and just relax and talk. For added romance, carefully place a few candles safely around the tub and bring a glass of wine for each of you. Just dont get so relaxed that you fall asleep, because after the tub youll want to move it into the bedroom and take turns giving each other back massages. Stop by a body shop like Bath & Body Works for some aromatherapy massage oil. Best spa session ever.

9. Cooking Class

I know I said in home and I meant it. When I say cooking class I dont mean attending an actual cooking class, I mean doing your own cooking class with just the two of you. Find a recipe from a cooking magazine, book, or show that sounds delish to both of you but neither have any experience with cooking such a dish. You will work together, sharing the tasks at hand. And I mean for you to cook an actual gourmet meal, not Mac & Cheese from a box, no matter how much you crave it sometimes. This is your date night activity, so have some fun with it. Put on your aprons and help each other chop, season, and stir the ingredients. When youve completed your edible masterpiece, its time to dig in. Sit down to a table set for two and cheers each other to your cooking accomplishment.

10. Star Gazing

Its back outside for this date night. Sometimes all you need is star-filled night sky to add that little extra bit of romance. If you have a cozy backyard (and ideally a fire pit to keep you warm), take a thermos filled with hot cocoa or spiked cider, a blanket, and your loved one to do some star gazing. Do some research before hand and make a game of trying to spot certain constellations. If you have a stable flat roof, set up some lawn chairs and enjoy the view from up there. Be careful getting on and off your roof! No back yard or accessible roof? Take a stroll down to your local park. Odds are, it will be deserted after dark and the jungle gym style toys make for great seats.

No matter what you choose to do on your date nights, make sure you are focused on each other. Make it about you two and nothing else. Hopefully Ive inspired you to try something new with your partner in crime. Maybe one of these unique date nights will start a spark and youll be truly glad you branched out. If nothing else, simply relish in the company of your loved one.

from All Of Beer http://allofbeer.com/2017/07/27/10-fun-cheap-date-nights-you-can-have-at-home-that-arent-netflix/ from All of Beer https://allofbeercom.tumblr.com/post/163476190967

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samanthasroberts · 7 years

Text

10 Fun, Cheap Date Nights You Can Have At Home (That Aren’t Netflix)

1. Living Room Camping

2. Outdoor Dining

3. Boudoir Photo Shoot

4. Wine Tasting

5. Game Night

6. Project/Craft Night

7. Karaoke

8. Spa Session

9. Cooking Class

10. Star Gazing

Source: http://allofbeer.com/2017/07/27/10-fun-cheap-date-nights-you-can-have-at-home-that-arent-netflix/

from All of Beer https://allofbeer.wordpress.com/2017/07/27/10-fun-cheap-date-nights-you-can-have-at-home-that-arent-netflix/

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allofbeercom · 7 years

Text

10 Fun, Cheap Date Nights You Can Have At Home (That Aren’t Netflix)

1. Living Room Camping

2. Outdoor Dining

3. Boudoir Photo Shoot

4. Wine Tasting

5. Game Night

6. Project/Craft Night

7. Karaoke

8. Spa Session

9. Cooking Class

10. Star Gazing

from All Of Beer http://allofbeer.com/2017/07/27/10-fun-cheap-date-nights-you-can-have-at-home-that-arent-netflix/

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garynsmith · 7 years

Text

Top comments of the week Feb. 20-24

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‘Can you help me hang my artwork?’

Jim Weix · Commented on 4 listing presentation questions you should always expect

Would you be able to take my dog or cat while I’m out of town? Answer: I can’t. My 80 pound dog is very aggressive with other animals

Can you help me move some furniture when I sell? Answer: I can’t, due to my back, but I can get you people that will.

Would you help me paint this room prior to market? Answer: Due to a detached retina, my painting is really bad.

Can you help me hang my artwork? Answer: No problem, but my bad eye causes me to miss the nail a lot, so you’ll need plenty of drywall repair paste.

Will you go out with me on a date if I select you to list my home with? Answer: Let me check with my wife, she works for the Internal Revenue Service

‘Hey honey, we should go visit this one’

Alex Saenger · Commented on Robot makes unique 360-degree property videos

Very cool technology, but in my opinion, not great for the purposes of actually selling real estate. I owned a virtual tour company before I became an agent. We did 360 virtual tours. We also did still photos and even offered floor plan tours. What I discovered in the end was that agents don’t want to, or can’t afford to spend thousands of dollars on these types of solutions unless in the multi-million dollar price range. Thus, this type of solution will be very [seldom] used, and only on the VERY expensive properties.

What most buyers want is an accurate representation of a home or space. They want enough information to either say, “nope, not interested,” or, “[hey] honey, we should go visit this one.” And our job as professional marketers of real estate is to get the prospective buyer TO THE PROPERTY! We are not trying to sell houses over the internet. A person has to step foot in the property to fall in love with it. They have to experience the environment, feel the flow and size. See the views with their own eyes. Our job is to get them there so they can become comfortable making an offer, and create a Win-Win for both buyer and seller.

Musings on an obsession

Greg Ward · Commented on Fast-growing, 18-state brokerage: No office, 100% splits

I have been [obsessing] over the direction of our industry. Seems like this model is winning in most markets and it makes sense why: Agents want to keep more of [their] commission…Period. If you can provide a high level of service to the agent at a more affordable price, then it’s a no-brainer to the agent. My biggest concern is that most of these models seem to [acknowledge] the fact that the consumer has all the leverage, but their answer is lower fees to allow the agents to use their commissions to either discount, or invest in their business (Into SOI, lowtech marketing, etc); however, with big players like Zillow and now, Opendoor, the old way of lead gen and prospecting wont be as effective and the big box brokers and teams who can afford to play the online lead gen game and online marketing game will continue to take more and more market share, leaving the small agent, discounting even more just to compete, eventually getting out of the business all together.

Concessions should never be first

Lisa Dearing Damron · Commented on How to save the deal when clients play hardball

I for one was immediately disappointed that the first solution out of the gate was “Realtor contribution”. The Realtor did not stain the hardwood floor, neither did they botch the appraisal or allow the roof to get old. There are so many great pieces of advice that should have been given to agents first, like:

1. Remember that it is not your job or place to decide how the issue should be handled. Your job as a trusted real estate advisor is to inform your client of all the options, pros and cons, and help them to decide what to do. 2. Be on top of the transaction from the start:a) Monitor the appraisal request and deny access if the appraiser is not from, or familiar with the area of the subject property. You can’t choose your appraiser, but you can usually get a way with one rejection. b) Talk to your buyer up front and make sure they understand the difference between “safety issues” and non-safety issues in an inspection.

Everybody eats because everyone gets paid for their hard work. Sure, concessions are made, but that should NEVER be the first option.

‘A nice gravy train to ride’

Randy Hilman · Commented on Should agents discount if a seller finds the buyer?

Come on, double the liability and work? A lawyer could close a FSBO transaction for a fraction of the fee agents charge. For decades, the fixed price percentage model was a nice gravy train to ride, but it’s about to be retired to the steam engines museum by the saavy new entrants into the marketplace. And don’t think consumers aren’t paying attention. So, I reduce my fee by 1% for double-sided transactions and 3%, if the seller procures the buyer. I even help them find buyers by giving my sellers very nice fold-over promo business cards and creating flyers for open houses, if they choose to host them. To avoid missteps, I want to preview all seller-generated advertizing, qualify the buyer, handle all the paperwork and manage the transaction from beginning to end. As a listing agent, my state allows me to assist unrepresented buyers in the preparation of offers and with other ministerial actions, like scheduling inspections, connecting them with service providers, etc. The buyer and seller agree on price and terms, I provide the disclosures and prepare the offer, encouraging buyers to submit all docs for legal review. It’s time we got real and started offering better service at lower prices. In my opinion, It’s the only real chance we have as independent agents to build a reputation before the red tide comes in.

‘This is the answer’

Jeff Del Castilho · Commented on Robot makes unique 360-degree property videos

I’ve seen and produced quite a few VR videos similar to this in the early stages of VR and I can tell you this is the answer. Being able to minimize the human [footprint] (“nadir” for you astronomy nerds) was always a huge issue and they seem to have figured it out. There were some editing companie that were trying to charge us 3 times the total cost of the producing the entire video just to remove the nadir. In my opinion this is as close to a true VR tour as it gets and while there is some mild shaking (this is actually the least shaking ive ever seen in a true VR video), I’m sure this can easily be reduced or completely removed with advances in editing tech and camera stabilizing tech. IMO, this company gets it.

Strict policy

Andrew Cork · Commented on How to respond when clients demand to know your politics

I learned a long time ago talking about politics with a client/customer is like quicksand. DO NOT go there. My response is: “I hope you don’t mind, but it is my [strict] policy to never discuss politics with business clients.” It works every time. :)

‘If you can’t be found on Google, you don’t exist’

Anton Usaj · Commented on The best real estate digital marketing plan you’ve ever seen

Great takeaways on digital marketing plans for agents. Key takeaways I think we’re appearing online with a great bio and some sort of value for potential buyers and sellers to show you’re a real person. If you can’t be found on Google, you don’t exist to the cold/internet lead. Instagram and Snapchat in my opinion have the strongest potential to connect with potential clients on a personal level. Connect your Facebook Business page to IG so you have access to the most powerful paid advertising tool on the internet right now. I would also advise partnering with your brokerage to allow them to promote your listings and drive traffic back to your personal agent page. All good stuff. Great panel!

Top comments are compiled by Inman’s editorial staff in no particular order.

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