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Summary: Byun Baekhyun talks about the reasons of why he’s convinced that Park Chanyeol’s loyalty lies with him.
Admin Notes: all i can say is that 5 reasons are not enough for me to explain how much i love this fic 😍 i really admire how baekhyun talked abt chanyeol here and how chanyeol is the best boyfriend 5ever they are really the ultimate relationship goals 😭
P.S. baekyeol, pls do everyone a favor and get married alrdy pretty pls 🙆♀️😚 - Admin Elle ♡
Kylo looks up from his knees and through the bars of his prison cell. They’re glowing in a shade of light blue. They’re beautiful – and lethal. They were made specifically for special prisoners. Like him.
Rey is leaning against the wall, arms crossed as he stares into the dark eyes of the warrior.
Kylo manages a crooked smirk that should be sarcastic. “What does that mean?”
Rey studies his reaction. He always does that: raising walls around himself as soon as someone tries to speak to him. He has been like that since the day they caught him.
“I don’t think you killed the padawans.”
Kylo barely flinches, but Rey’s trained eyes catch that invisible movement. It’s telling, for her.
“My question is: why?” She goes on, “why don’t you tell everyone? If someone framed you, if someone forced you–”
“Forced,” Kylo echoes, a low chuckle barely concealed. “You have no idea what you’re talking about.” He shakes his head, that crooked smirk still in place. It looks like a sad grimace to Rey.
“Why don’t you tell me, then?” She pushes. Soon after, she sighs, as if suddenly exhausted. “You know you can’t lie to me. I know who you really are, I know what’s in your mind. I’ve been there.”
Kylo suddenly gets up, his black cape dancing around his feet as he walks closer. Rey doesn’t move. There’s enough space between them. And bars.
Her shock is clear on her face when he suddenly grabs the bars with both hands, an aggressive look on his face. Any other person would have died simply by touching those bars and indeed, the smoke coming out of his palms tells Rey that his skin is burning slowly.
“Stop looking for any good in me, it’s a waste of time,” his crooked grin shows up again, “Rey.”
Author’s notes: I never liked that Scully never had her name on the office door. I came up with a possible canon-compliant reason why it never happened. Many thanks go out to @contrivedcoincidences6, @edirone and @aloysiavirgata, who read it, gave me some suggestions and encouraged me so long ago. This takes place sometime after season 10. Rated G.
He almost misses it as he reaches for the doorknob, too excited about being back following his long illness. His hand moves from the doorknob to trace the letters on the new nameplate that abuts his. He gives a tremulous smile, biting his bottom lip, as he begins to trace the “S” in SCULLY. In the beginning, he had never planned on ever needing a door plate for her. She was a spy after all, and would only last a little while before he chased her away from his lair. When the X Files were shut down, the office didn’t technically belong to either of them. Besides, she had her own office in Quantico and was on her way to bigger and better things in the Bureau …until Duane Barry and Alex Fucking Krycek. He told her once about the ritual he had when he was little. He would stand by the door, take a deep breath, and close his eyes. He would then walk into the room and hope with all his might that Sam would be there when he opened his eyes. When Scully was gone, that feeling was even worse. He was 12 years old when Sam was taken. Regardless of the constant feelings of guilt and loss, at least he could know on some level that he could not have fully protected Sam. But Scully? It was all his fault. He was a Special Agent with the FBI and was still unable to protect his partner, the only person who had refused to leave his side. Once Skinner re-opened the X Files to help him search for Scully, Mulder couldn’t help but go through the same ritual all over again. Eyes closed, deep breath, walk in and hope against hope that Scully would be there waiting for him. He didn’t want to fail yet another person who trusted him. Looking at the closed office door before he shut his eyes every day, he would first feel guilty that her name was not there beside his. ‘You wanted to get rid of her,’ his inner voice would taunt. ‘No! No! No! I take it back! I didn’t mean it!’ Coward that he was though, he knew that he just couldn’t order that nameplate. He was barely functioning and keeping himself together as it was. He didn’t think that he would be able to survive not seeing her behind that door after seeing the faint promise her name would give him before he walked inside. He almost told her why he never requested a doorplate for her around the time of the Philadelphia incident. However, their relationship was already strained at that point and he didn’t feel like he could really be open about it. How was he supposed to tell her that he was afraid of jinxing things? That she’d most likely run from him as soon as he felt bold enough to hang her name beside his? He didn’t want to test fate by claiming that DANA SCULLY belonged down here in the basement with him. If she left, he would never be able to take that nameplate down and it would taunt him for the rest of his miserable days. No, he couldn’t be the one to put up her name beside his. Now, at 56 years old, he starts the ritual that he has been dreading all these years. He closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, and opens the door. Even though he can smell a hint of fresh pastry, fresh coffee, and her perfume (his favourite), he doesn’t yet open his eyes. He can hear the coffee maker percolating, the sound of the old pipes warming up and the squeak of the chair behind the desk. He can feel her eyes on his as she waits patiently, pretending to read a file to give him some space. He peeks when he can’t take it any longer. She’s smiling at him, her arms relaxed and her tiny feet propped up on the desk behind the conspicuous border of both their nameplates. He opens his mouth to speak, then gives her a shy, acknowledging smile when he sees her expression. She knows. She knows why he used to sleep on his couch, why he used to have such a vast porn collection, why he never slept in their bed after she left. She knows about his rituals. She knows him and understands. He knows now that she knows what this gesture means to him, to them. They still have things to work on, but they both know that she never plans on leaving him again.