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therachelperspective · 3 years

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VIDEO GAME | Assassin’s Creed IV: Black Flag [Nintendo Switch]

Other things to call this post –

• “Things Rachel finds eons after it actually comes out” (in regards to the Assassin's Creed series)

• “Things Rachel starts in the middle of the series instead of the beginning,” and/or...

• “Things inspired by something else that made me abandon that other thing entirely.”

Earlier this year, I started playing Immortals: Fenyx Rising and quite enjoyed it. Enough to hastily head over to the internet to search for similar styled games to add to my wishlist. Assassin’s Creed was included on multiple lists especially with the recent release of its newest iteration, Valhalla. But reading more about the series as a whole, I quickly became intrigued by its many versions. Shortly thereafter, thanks to one of my local GameStop stores closing (and my deep love for discounts), I happened upon a copy of the “Rebel Collection” – which includes Black Flag and Rogue, plus their respective DLC – for a decent price and quickly snatched it up. Little did I know the obsession that was about to begin. Fenyx Rising who?

After 120 hours of game play as I completed the main story and the side quests (I’m a very annoying completionist), I have discovered that I find great satisfaction in sneaking up on and shanking people. Knowing full well I wanted to play more of this game while enjoying the different locales and periods of history, I actively sought out and purchased all of the Assassin’s Creed games/applicable collections for the PlayStation and Nintendo Switch.

TL;DR– this was my first Assassin’s Creed game, but I loved it so much that I obsessively played it for weeks, and now want to play all of them.

It’s a widely known fact I come to find and enjoy things looooongggg after everyone else has had their way with them, so there’s really no surprise here. But I don’t mind because I absolutely hate waiting for new releases of anything anyways (games, books, movies, etc). With that in mind, there is a LOT of discussion out there that Black Flag is not a fan favorite of the series. I enjoy pirates, so I ain’t mad about it as a starting point into the series. Plus, what’s not to enjoy about the sexy blonde-haired, blue-eyed, tattooed pirate Edward Kenway?

What I think really ruined it for gamers was the strange plot twist that revealed itself towards the end of gameplay. Or at least “plot twist” is what I’m going to call it and the reason I’m giving for not 100 percent loving the story. Remember how Indiana Jones was a pretty great series until they added the fourth movie and it felt totally disconnected from the rest because they added aliens? That’s what Black Flag reminds me of – it’s all great and piratey… until you find out what the Templars sought in this particular game and what it can do. The Observatory building design and the device it held felt so jarringly alien that I dare say I felt that same disappointment as I did from Indiana and his crystal skulls. In both, I’m not sure what inspired creators to include an unconnected sci-fi element in an otherwise interesting story. However, I will wait until I have played all (or at least more) of the Assassin’s Creed series before I rank it so low as other game players do.

WHAT I LIKED

✔︎ It tells you exactly what to do! I learned that I really enjoy games like this, with literal steps to achieve the end goal. Like the issue with playing Animal Crossing, for example, is that you have to literally create things for yourself to do, unless there is some sort of event taking place or you’re still trying to complete your museum. But games like Assassin’s Creed or Immortals Fenyx Rising (and so many others I haven’t discovered yet) that have you play through a story and give you objectives and quests to do, that style really works for me. Currently very glad that I have the rest of the series to keep me busy for a while. ✔︎ Assassinations I’m realizing I might like violence a little too much because sniper shots and stealth attacks brought me far too much joy while playing this game.

✔︎ Petting the Animals I know it’s a small feature, but the non-hunting animals in the game – cats, dogs, and even a cow – are pettable. AND, even though I completed it without realizing it was a thing, petting a certain number of animals is an “Abstergo Challenge” objective.

WHAT I DISLIKED

✗ Maneuvering Edward. Don’t get me wrong, I did eventually get the hang of it, but even then there were times where I missed achieving something because he managed to get stuck in a spot (usually hanging from a rooftop) and wouldn’t move despite my using proper technique (aka moving the joy stick around like a crazy person). EDIT: I later learned this has a name – the “Assassin’s Creed Curse.” ✗ I was unable to achieve an objective the same way other players could because of my console (Nintendo Switch vs. Playstation). One of the “to dos” in the game was crafting the Whale Hunter outfit by using the skins of the white whale. Well, as a Switch player, I was not able to access the Community Events that would spawn the white whale, as was available for the Playstation. Instead, I was only able to achieve this by merely purchasing the whale skins – very anticlimactic – and crafting the outfit that way. While glad I was still able to complete the task, I was also kind of bummed about not being able to hunt the whale itself. Just for a moment, I wanted to feel like Captain Ahab lol. ✗ Motion controls, or lack thereof. Either I neglected to turn them on, or they weren’t available for the Switch, but using motion controls for certain tasks would have helped GREATLY. Especially trying to shoot something. It would have saved a lot of time and effort instead of twitching the joycon back and forth trying to aim my gun or my harpoon. Remind me to look into that when I play Freedom Cry (AC4’s DLC featuring Adewale, Edward’s quartermaster on the Jackdaw) or when I start Rogue.

#games #game #video game #assassin's creed #assassin's creed 4 #assassin's creed IV #assassin's creed 4: black flag #assassin's creed IV: black flag #black flag #edward kenway #nintendo switch #playstation

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serahsanguine · 5 years

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School, Sex and Subterfuge NC-17

Chapter 9 of?

part one, part Two, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7, part 8, AO3

tagging @today-in-fic @skullsmuldon @foxystarbucks @baronessblixen

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

Notes; im so sorry this chapter has taken so long to get out i have struggled quite a bit over last few months with depression, writer's block and my three kids. I would make one thing very clear i will never ever leave a story unfinished i have read a story where this has happened and it annoyed me so much. It may months or even years to complete but i will always finish a story this goes for both long-running stories I have.

on a lighter note, I have many many ideas for this story some i really think you will enjoy :)

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

Chapter 9; An Answer?

Mulder knew she was going to be confused but he certainly didn’t expect her to run out on him, maybe a slap or some hateful words but not this. This is something he didn’t not know how to deal with, the confusion of not knowing either way. This is when he truly realized he had hurt her a lot more than he thought and his actions of past events coming back to haunt him. How could he be so stupid?

He let everything go, his whole heart poured out in words, he was willing to let her in, he had let her get this close. He sat down on the closest seat he could find, the emptiness of the room hitting him like a freight train. He could hear people scuttling about outside the office door. He looked around at the books, the certificates, the countless women he had brought back to these four walls. The memories they had, the stories they could tell but not one of them meaning anything to him in reflection to the memories he had of Dana Scully. The minutes ticked by and silence fell upon the room once more.

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

Scully ran and ran her heart racing, blood pumping, breathing fast and uneven. She flew past people, whizzing past the gardens, cars and buses. She ran until her legs could not run anymore. She was in shock, he said I love you, and he wanted to start over. She stopped a couple of miles from campus next to a small lake, the water reflecting the moonlight in all directions, the sun had set and the air was warm. There was peace and silence in the air all around her. The nightlife chipping and chirping as small bats flew above her.

She stared into the open water her mind fogged, her heart bleeding. Could she start over with him? Could she love him? Was she already in love with him? Was Missy right all along and she cared for him deeply? She started walking back to her dorm. The question running over and over in her mind and the answers nowhere to be found. She was torn in two her rational side saying no, but her mind screaming to let him in.

The Next Day.

She still hadn’t made a discussion on what she was going to do she needed to talk to someone, rationalize it in one way or another. She took Serah out to dinner somewhere different, somewhere she won’t be seen by him. It was a small restaurant, quiet, even for the dinner rush hour. With homemade food from starters to desserts, plus it didn’t cost a lot either. They both sat in the corner booth with a window overlooking the garden and cobblestone road.

Scully explained in a shorter version of everything that happened and Serah just sat there and listened.

Serah took Scully’s hand and clasped it inside her own. “What are you going to do?”

“I don’t no Serah, the rational side of me has a bunch of issues,” She looked over at her friend and she just nodded and let her continue.“At the end of the day, he still is my professor, he's older than me.”

“Oh, come on Scully. He may be older than you but not by much it’s only 8 or 9 years and it’s not like your a child, your a beautiful woman with her own mind and age is just a number baby.”

“I suppose you’re right but what would Ahab think? Let alone, my friends? Present company excluded. Should I transfer classes, or just quit going?”

“Wooo, wooo, wooo. Let's answer them one at a time”

“I don’t know what your father would think but if he loved you and could see you were clearly happy with Mulder then I suspect he would be happy too. If your friends can’t see that you are happy with him you don’t need them in your life. And to answer the last two questions is an unequivocal no. If you were to listen to your heart what would it say?”

That was the question wasn’t it what would her heart say, he was amazing everything about him, his intelligence, his heart and soul, certainly his looks. And come on he is mind-blowing in bed he knows how to treat a woman and make feel her on top of the world. She blushed at that thought.

“If he means that much to you you should at least email him or go to his office.”

Scully looked at her friend with a curious look “Did I say that out loud?”

“Yes dear you did,” Serah said sarcastically smiling from ear to ear.

She blushed hard when she thought about what she said about Mulder in bed. She laughed it off.

“Maybe I will.”

“Humm.”

“Talk to him that is; see where we go from there.”

They both finished up the lunch grabbing their things and headed towards their next lecture.

Several hours later

It was getting late and many of the students had gone to either the dorms or out into town. Scully stood there at Mulder's door anxiously hesitant to knock, she could see his shadowy figure walking back and forth across the room. Several minutes passed, she was lost in her own thoughts when she lifted her hand to finally knock, he opened the door bowling into her sending papers everywhere.

“Shit I’m sorry,” he said before even looking at who he had run into. She started helping to pick up the papers.

“It’s ok, it was my fault,” she said sheepishly ad he looked up at her and their eyes locked, both frozen in there place.

“Dana.” He said matter of fact.

“Fox.” She replied in the same manner.

He picked up the last of the sprawled papers “Come in.”

“After you.”

They both stepped into his office shutting the door behind them. He placed the papers on the nearest surface and walking through to his private office where they couldn’t be seen.

The atmosphere was tense, so tense you could cut it like butter. The only noise in the room was the gulp of air from the water container and the hum of people chatting walking by. They both stood there not saying a word if a pin were to fall you could hear it shatter around the corners of the room.

She had a whole speech prepared, why they were not good together. What would happen if they were to get caught? But standing in front of his presence she lost all rational thought. Her stomach was in knots. Her heart hammering in her chest, her hands clammy, her mouth dry. But it despite all that she was the one to talk first.

“I love you too,” the words just poured out of her mouth her brain finally caught up with what she had spoken.

His face was in shock but was the kind of shock when someone is happy. She stuttered when she realized what she had said. She went to say something, but secretly she said fuck it, she deserves to be happy and damn to the consequences, at least for now. If something were to happen further down the line they would cross that bridge when they came to it.

She ran to him, wrapping her arms around his neck, her legs around his waist and kissed him with such force they both toppled to the floor with her on top. He hit the ground with an ugh but they both started laughing hard.

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

He was hurt but didn’t care, she had said the words back to him, and he was over the moon. He touched his lips to hers, his hands in her fine silk hair. She pulled away and asked,

“Why me? Out of everyone, why me?” he looked into her eyes with such clear and understanding and such force without hesitation.

“You’re beautiful, so quick-witted and funny, you keep me on my toes always surprising me. You laugh is infectious and you smile lights up the whole room. You...are my friend, and you told me the truth. Even when the room is full of people, you are my constant... my touchstone. "

Her smile meant everything to him and he didn’t expect her to say anything back not quite yet anyway.

He kissed her neck her body started grinding on top of his, he felt his erection grow underneath his trousers and felt the flush of her skin against his own. His hands sitting on top of her t-shirt just above her hips.

“Mulder please…”

He lifted her top above her head and discarded it on the floor next to them, soon unclasping her bra and discarded that too. She moved her body slightly and it took him no hesitation to take her breast into his mouth letting the nipple roll around underneath the flesh of his tongue. Her hands undoing the buttons on his shirt. She smiled at his bronze chest as she raked her fingers down his stomach before undoing the zipper and button on his trousers then pulling his cock free from his cotton boxers.

“Fuck Scully” she only licked her lips, God those lips he thought and she smiled a wicked smile as she started pumping him at an antagonizing slow pace. He let her continue until he couldn’t take it anymore moving his hands from her hips lifting her skirt. He sat up just a little bit.

“Do you have any idea what wearing this little black mini skirt and black knee-high socks does to me?” he whispered sultry in her ear. Before moving her panties to the side and slipping his fingers through her dripping wet folds.

“I have…..Jesus Christ” her words left as he could tell she was lost in what he was doing to her he found her bundle of nerves at the apex of her legs.

Swishing, gliding, flicking, rushing and slowing his fingers bringing her to her peak and stopping before lowering her body every so slightly and sliding his member into her opening. He felt her hugging him, clinging even as he filled her up stretching her to her limits. She threw her head back her wet matted hair sticking to her skin. As she let out a moan of pleasure. She placed her hand either side of his head on the floor.

Creating an even deeper angle he let a growl her lips touched his and he took it as a sign to started thrusting into her, her tiny body matching his pace, her naked chest pressed up against his hot flesh. With the sound of their moans and skin slapping skin and the smell of sex clinging to the air.

“Mulder, I’m so close.”

“Me to let go,” and she did with the force of the world-shattering around her. He moaned right along with her, the height of pleasure exploding in there bodies at the same time.

After a few minutes, they lay spent half-naked on his office floor. He looked down at her.

“Next time I’m taking you to dinner first and make love to you somewhere other than my office floor”

“Maybe you’re apartment?”

“It’s definitely in your future, ” he smiled.

“I’ll hold you to that.”

“I hope you do,” he said before holding her close giving her one last hug before helping her up off the floor and finding her clothes. After they finished getting dressed and looking presentable. He looked at her and asked, “so dinner?”

“I didn’t think you meant now?”

“No time like the present," he smirked.

He left the office first and she soon followed slipping into his car hoping no one saw before he drove her to the restaurant for dinner.

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A MASSIVE HAPPY NEW YEAR TO EVERY ONE!

#txf fanfic #txf #The X-Files #the x files #the xfiles #mulder and scully #msr fanfic #school sex and subterfuge

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ericsonclan · 4 years

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Animal Crossing

Summary: Prisha takes an interest in Violet's Animal Crossing adventures.

Read on A03:

The microwave dinged just as Prisha had gotten up to check on it. Reaching inside, she carefully extracted two mugs of hot cocoa, placing them quickly down on the counter. She grabbed a spoon from her utensil drawer, lightly skimming the surface of the liquid to remove the gluey residue from the top of each mug. Then she took the mugs in hand and made her way back over to the couch.

Violet was curled up on one corner of the couch with a blanket, looking so dang cute that Prisha wanted to push the Switch aside and give her something else to focus on. She could tell that Violet was too invested in her game for that though. Her tongue was stuck out just the tiniest bit as she concentrated on whatever she was attempting, her fingers mashing the controls desperately.

“Wow, I didn’t know Animal Crossing could be that intense,” Prisha noted, taking a sip of her hot chocolate.

“Animal Crossing is always fucking intense,” Violet growled. Her eyes didn’t leave the screen. “I’m trying to get rid of Moose. He looks just like Ahab, that creepy cook that worked at Ericson’s when Louis and I first started. But no matter how many times I hit him with my butterfly net, he won’t. Fucking. Leave!”

She was adorable when she was angry. Prisha watched her in fascination, noting how her pajama top with the cute baby chick on it had gotten all scrunched up around her waist in the midst of her anger. Prisha loved when she wore that shirt. “You should drink your cocoa before it gets cold,” she mentioned lightly.

Violet nodded, placing her Switch down for a second to take a sip. Prisha glanced down at the screen. She knew Animal Crossing had cute characters, but she wasn’t exactly sure what the appeal was outside of that. Violet had her character’s passport pulled up on the screen right now. Rather than making her character look like herself, she’d given the girl darker skin and longer hair. It was a charming design. Prisha was about to look away when her eyes suddenly did a double take. Wait a minute. Was the name of Violet’s character… Prisha? She instinctively snatched up the controller, ignoring Violet’s distressed yelp as she examined the screen. Her eyes weren’t deceiving her. The name was Prisha.

“Prish, no fair, give it back!” Violet whined, leaning forward with outstretched arms.

Prisha simply leaned back, holding the Switch at arm’s length. “Vi, do you mean to tell me that you’ve been playing as me in Animal Crossing this whole time and didn’t think to mention it?”

Violet pulled back, hiding her face in shame behind a pillow. “It’s not a big deal, I just…”

“That’s so cute!” Prisha gushed, her eyes practically sparkling with excitement. “Does that mean I can design a villager that looks like you? I want to play!”

Violet removed the pillow from her face, giving Prisha a skeptical look. “Seriously?”

“Well, you made me look so cute, I bet I could make you look even cuter!” Prisha gasped, looking back at the screen. “Could we be in the game together? We could make a quaint little beach house and collect seashells and coral all day! Oh, it sounds divine!”

“Well, we could visit each other’s islands,” Violet responded, sitting back up. “First you’d need your own copy of the game though, and if you don’t have your own console it’ll mess with the progress of the game…”

“I don’t care about all that,” Prisha tutted, waving a hand dismissively as she handed the Switch back to Violet. “If you’ll just excuse me for a moment…” She jumped up from the couch, running toward her bedroom.

“What are you doing?”

“Ordering my own copy! I’m going to pay for next day delivery!” Prisha’s voice was faint from inside the other room. Violet could hear her loudly clacking on her laptop keyboard, the way she did when she got really excited.

Violet lay back down on the couch, feeling a sort of giddy warmth filling her heart. She couldn’t wait to play Animal Crossing with Prisha.

#twdg #twdg violet #twdg prisha #twdg privet #fanfic #animal crossing

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bbrandy2002 · 5 years

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The Breakfast Club Chapter 8

The Royal Romance AU

Summary: sex and drugs (that pretty much sums it up). This a light hearted chapter before the fireworks of the final two.

Warning: sexual content, drugs and mentions of abuse.

Characters belong to Pixelberry and some dialogue by John Hughes.

Song inspiration:

Drake, Olivia and Maxwell are halted at the corner of a corridor, having returned from Drake's room with pot. Vernon is standing outside of the library and returning to the office directly across the hall. Even with the guard in the office, he has a direct view of the door.

As the trio scramble to come up with something quickly, Drake has an idea that may be dangerous, but, feels it's worth the risk. He motions for them to follow and leads them to the end of the hall. He opens a supply closet and inspects a large ventilation duct in the ceiling. Olivia stands there with her mouth agape, "Walker, you are fucking crazy if you think I'm getting in that". Drake begins moving a steel ladder in place, "Then share your grand plan with us Liv...I know this palace inside and out, trust me on this".

Olivia scoffs at him, "Trust you? You've been a jackass and boozing since we arrived this morning".

Olivia and Maxwell look to each for confirmation from the other that this will not end disastrously.

Drake loosens the vent cover and it swings down. He turns to face both and explains there is two more vent covers on the second tier of the library; they will open one, hop on top of the book shelf and climb down. Olivia is still hesitant and feels it is too dangerous, but, Drake and Maxwell are are going regardless. She shakes her head and lets out a heavy breath, "Whatever, let's just get this over with."

Maxwell, being the tallest, climbs in first. Olivia gives Drake a killers stare as she begins her ascent up the ladder. He follows behind her, grabs her legs and boost's her up. Drake then makes his way inside the vent.

He grabs his cell phone and turns the flashlight on, directing Maxwell to keep moving. As Maxwell leads the group, he starts to giggle to himself, "Hey guys, tell me if you've heard this one....Lady Penelope walks into a bar with a poodle in one hand and a two foot salami in the other, bartender says 'well I guess you won't be needing a drink, Lady Penelope says.....OH SHIT!!!!!!...." The ventilation flooring under Maxwell gives way and he crashes through the ceiling, landing hard on the floor below him.

Olivia immediately stops moving and looks down, with concern, through the gaping hole. She discovers Maxwell on the second floor of the library and yells down, "Maxwell, are you okay?"

Maxwell staggered on the floor for a moment, glanced over himself, then nodded, "I think so, but, remind me never to tell a joke about Penelope again".

Olivia assessed her situation, "How the hell am I supposed to get down now?

Drake remained quiet; with Olivia leaning over, he was able to see her ass cheeks hugging through her pink, lacy panties. She turned her head around and noticed his eyes widened and focused under her skirt. She kicked him in the shoulder and he jerked up, hitting his head. With the weight and sudden movements, the floor under them feel in.

Maxwell was able to move before they both crashed to the floor beside him, immediately jumping in to come to their aid.

Both were shaken up and needed a moment to just breathe, but, not seriously injured. Maxwell helped Olivia to her feet, who then bent over punching Drake several times for his inappropriate staring.

He raises his arms to protect himself, "It was an accident".

She screams back at him, "You're such an asshole.."

Drake stands, dusts himself off and limps slightly over to Maxwell, "So, Ahab...Kybo Mein Doobage..."

Maxwell reaches into his pants and pulls out the joints, still in the baggie.

Drake walks to the railing, sits down on the floor and gets his lighter out.

Maxwell looks to Olivia who keeps her focus on Drake. She's apprehensive, wanting to try it too, extremely curious, but, anxious.

Drake lights the joint, take's a hit and relaxes back into the railing. He gives her a questioning look and holds the joint out towards her, "You in, Red?".

With a determined looked, "I'm in".

Maxwell rubs his hands together excitedly, "OooHhh Yyyeeaaahhh...".

*****

Liam takes Riley's hand and begins leading her through the Palace at a quick step.

She laughs at his persistence, "Liam...where are we going? What about...Twat Muffin?".

He chortles, "I have to show you something and there's not a lot of time......also, it was Twat, Waffle".

Still holding her hand, basically pulling her along, they make their way up to the King's chambers and into Liam's bedroom.

Riley takes it all in with amazement, "Don't you think..this..is a little too soon?".

He stops at his dresser and quickly opens the top drawer, pulling out a tiny, blue velvet, ring box.

He opens it up and shows her what's inside. She looks carefully, "It's a pearl".

He has a nervous smile and his breathing becomes heavier, "Riley...". He can barely get his words together, "tomorrow, it will be announced at the ball in honor of my birthday... that I will officially be betrothed to Countess Madeleine...my father is making the agreement as we speak."

She swallows hard and her smile fades, "then...what about...our moment just now?".

He shakes his head and moves her to his bed, both sitting side by side. He takes the pearl out of the box and places it in the middle of her palm, closing her hand around it.

He grips her fisted hand and stares into her eyes, "I don't know what is going to happen tomorrow, I certainly don't want it, but, before my father returns in a few hours, I have to give you something my brother found while we were swimming in Italy last year. I have to give this to someone special and I doubt after tomorrow, I'll get that opportunity. This moment.... it's all I have."

She looks down at her hand. Her mind is racing with so many thoughts...she's with the Prince of Cordonia, he is pouring his heart out to a girl like her, it's all unreal and she never wants it to end. She looks up at him with glassy eyes and a wispy voice, "Then, let's make it special."

Liam takes her to the balcony off of his bedroom. Standing behind her with arms around her waist, he points out his mothers garden and tells her stories of his misspent youth in the maze. They dance to music that only the two of them can hear, a sweet melody that comes from their hearts. As he lifts her into his arms for a twirl, he holds her close, never wanting this new feeling to leave. Liam hasn't been this happy since his mother was alive and doubts he ever will again.

Riley wonders how a girl from the wrong side of town, is here, at this place, experiencing this moment. Two nights ago, she was living with a drunk mother and stepfather....her mother's fifth husband. She had always served as her mothers caretaker; she picked up the pieces when her mother was beaten, cooked dinner each night, cleaned the house, whatever was needed to keep her happy. Each man her mother mindlessly brought into the home was angry, wild, and good for nothing; Riley experienced her fair share of physical abuse and a mother who pretended it didn't exist. Her current stepfather, however, crossed the line and Riley had to leave. Her mother had passed out and he set his sights on her. She fought him off as he gropped and beat her; she had no choice but to run away. Riley always felt like the garbage her home life was. When Constantine called her a whore, it was a word she had been called for as long as she could remember; it never stopped hurting.

Her ruffled skirt swayed with each turn. Her long, brown hair swept with the wind and her smile lit up her entire face. To Liam, she was perfect in every way.

His lips found her neck and gently placed kisses down to her collar bone. She absorbed each one as her hands ran through his hair. Every kiss and touch they shared was slow and methodical. They memorized every single feature and sensation, holding onto what would soon be only a beautiful memory.

Liam caressed her arms and gazed at her with longing, "I've never...you know".

She kissed him softly and smiled, "I haven't either".

His head was spinning as he held her hand and led her to his bed, "are you sure?"

She nodded, "yes".

He didn't know where to start, he could only think about how much he wanted to feel her... to be one with her.

Her hands shook as she reached for the buttons on her shirt, mentally preparing herself, it being her first time too.

He watched in awe as her chest was exposed, sweat already pooling on his forehead.

He reached for the hem of his shirt and pulled it off. She ran her delicate fingers over his muscled chest, as he hesitated briefly before cupping her breast.

They both were breathing heavy with anticipation and nervousness; perhaps, stalling somewhat in removing their bottoms.

Riley inhaled deeply then removed her skirt and panties, blushing as she kicked them aside. Liam ran his hands over her bare flesh, taking every portion of her in. She swore she was in a dream, his touch took her away and the ecstacy she felt sent chills throughout her body.

She sat on his bed and situated herself back to get into a comfortable spot. He watched with eyes widened, keeping his focus on her, while he removed his pants and underwear.

He moved himself on top of her, careful not to put too much weight down. He leaned in placed a small kiss her nose, "You're so beautiful".

Both of them heaving, she opened herself to him. He reached down and rubbed himself along her opening until she was wet enough.

He slowly inserted himself, only stopping when she winced. She waited a moment, adjusted herself, before allowing him to continue.

Time stood still as the two shared in the most sacred and loving act of their young lives. It was a mixture of pleasure and senses; a passion, they both elicited in the other. There was a feeling of completeness, that both had always longed for. Every single second was poetry in motion, yet, a bittersweet song.

*******

Laughter fills the air of the library as the trio sit in a circle enjoying their time. Maxwell is blowing smoke rings and eating them, "Chicks, cannot hold der smoke! That's what it is!".

An already stoned Olivia takes another hit and coughs, "Like...I'm so popular...I'm the most popular girl in all of Cordonia...like everyone loves me."

Drake watches her with amusement, "Poor baby", he says sarcastically.

Maxwell crawls over to Olivia and falls into her lap. Olivia looks down at his face and starts laughing hysterically, "Max-well, booga booga...SALAMI!!!".

Drake looks down at the joint in his hand, "phew...this is some strong shit".

For the next ten minutes, they go from breakdancing with Maxwell, gazing in admiration at the hole they caused in the ceiling, singing campfire songs with Drake and poking at the mole on the back of Maxwell's neck, swearing they see a face on it.

"Where the hell are our drinks?"

@lovemychoices @gnatbrain @burnsoslow @lodberg @choiceslife @silversparrow02 @stopforamoment @thisperfectmemory @kingliam2019 @moneyfordiamonds @pedudley @emceesynonymroll @romanticatheart-posts @carabeth @dcbbw @ao719 @timothygorgeous @missameliep

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#choices trr #the royal romance #trr liam #trr fanfic #trr drake #maxwell beaumont #trr #liam x riley #drake walker #olivia nevrakis #liam x mc

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sigritandtheelves · 6 years

Note

so, um, more simple? please? love you. k. bye.

your wish is my command, anon, and i love you too. this ask popped up just as i was finally working on ch7. 😊

Simple

Chapter 7

Other Chapters: One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six

PG-13 | 2k wds | pre-XF AU | MSR, Melissa/Samantha

_+_

February 2, 1990 - Stanford

Dana Scully said “Thank you,” and hung up the phone, but when the receiver settled into its cradle, she found herself unable to think. It took her a moment. She wobbled on her feet, and then sat heavily in the chair beside her kitchen table. She couldn’t quite breathe. She didn’t know what this meant. She didn’t know who to call first. Melissa, she thought, maybe, but then… no. Fox. She needed to talk to him first. He answered on the fourth ring.

“H-hi,” she stammered.

“Dana?”

She looked at the pad of paper where she’d just scribbled down some notes: dates, a list of questions, the words 18 weeks and fitness test. “Did you do this? Is this because of you?” Her fingers felt numb gripping the phone and she was suddenly cold, even under the fuzz of her purple sweater.

“Do what? Hey, are you okay? Dana, what’s wrong?”

“I—“ she began, but faltered. “I just got off the phone with the FBI,” she said. “They, they’re, they said… They want me. I mean, they want to recruit me. They got my scores from the last exam, and they said they’re looking for pathologists, and… was it you? Did you tell them to do this?”

“Dana, that’s so… oh my god, we could work in the same building. God, that’s incredible!” He laughed. “And no! I don’t know why I didn’t think of it, but no, this was all you! I don’t work in recruitment.” He laughed again, his excitement buzzing through the phone line, and then he seemed to pause. “But,” he said. “Are you happy about this? Is it something you might want?”

This made her stop and think a moment, which she hadn’t yet had a chance to do. Was it? She thought of the FBI’s resources, the kinds of cases she’d come across, the excitement of looking over Fox’s case notes when he’d shared them with her. This wouldn’t be overdoses and liver cancer or small-town average deaths. This would be murders, strange deaths, important cases. Her answer seemed so easy. “Yes,” she said “God, yes. More than anything, I want to do something important.”

There was a sound behind him, someone else’s voice, and then his hand must have come over the mouthpiece because he offered some kind of muffled response.

Dana frowned. “Who’s that?”

“Oh,” he said. “Partner. We’re heading out on another case tomorrow. Georgia this time.”

“On a Saturday?”

He chuckled. “Hey, murderers don’t take weekends off.”

“And neither do telekinetic mutants?”

“Nope. This one’s no mutant, though. At least I don’t think. Hey, are you coming out to interview? Get a tour of the Hoover building?”

She smiled. “Yeah. Thursday. It’s all happening so fast. Will you be back by then?”

“I’d damned well better be. I don’t want to miss you.”

If he were out of town, she thought she might scream—to be so close, to be where he worked, and not see him. The FBI. Working side-by-side with him, or at least in the same city. It was… perfect. Maybe too perfect. There had to be some catch. And of course, she supposed, there was.

“Oh God,” she said. “What will I tell my dad?” She thought of Ahab’s stern frown when she’d said she was interested in pathology, how he’d said Now, Dana… like she were a child. He would cross his arms and frown and make her feel small again. Like Daniel had.

“Don’t worry about that now.” Fox’s voice was warm, and she imagined him behind her, talking into her ear, lips in her hair. She missed him, couldn’t believe he’d been here only two weeks ago. “I’ll try my hardest to be there.”

“Okay,” she said.

He sighed, and she could sense, suddenly, his distraction. “Hey, I have to go. But I’ll call you from Georgia, okay? I got one of those calling card thingies for when I’m out of town.”

“Alright,” she said. There was a tinge of melancholy seeping in at the edges of her excitement. Because this partner was taking him out of town at just the wrong time. Because of her family. If she flew east and saw them, if she told Melissa, she’d have to tell her parents, too. She could already sense their disapproval, from across the continent.

But.

But if it worked out…

“Hey, Dana?” His voice was low, murmured, as if to keep between just them.

“Yeah?”

“I’m so excited for you.”

“Me too,” she said. “I— I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

And they hung up.

—

Her parents, it turned out, were not the most pressing problem she had to deal with. First thing Monday morning, scrubbed and starting rounds, she looked up to find Daniel stalking toward her like a bull. Pen to the chart she was reading, Dana’s jaw fell open at the sight of his determination.

“Daniel, what—“

“I need to talk to you,” He said.

Dana blinked. She glanced at the patient whose chart she held, then back at Daniel’s red face. “Excuse me a minute,” she said to the patient, and placed the chart back at the end of the bed.

Daniel practically dragged her out of the room, hand firm on her elbow.

“Please let go of me,” she said. Her words seemed to startle him. He checked himself, dropped her elbow, and gestured toward his office door. Before it had even closed, he was turning that hard look on her again.

“Where are you going?” He asked.

Dana’s brow furrowed. “What are you talking about?”

“You requested off three days this week.”

She stiffened, crossed her arms across her chest. “Yes,” she said. “I have an interview.”

“With the FBI?”

Her eyes widened. He had inched closer to her, and she involuntarily stepped back. “How—“

“They requested my letter. I had half a mind to send them a different one.”

Dana felt her face getting hot. “You can’t do that. You said you wouldn’t let this—“

“Who is he?”

Those eyes. She’d never seen him this way. For the first time in his presence, she felt not just irritated by his territoriality, but threatened. Unsafe. Against the fear, she straightened her shoulders and lifted her chin. “Who is who?”

He leaned in again. “Don’t play with me, Dana. That man you were with. You were kissing him outside your apartment. Does he work for the FBI? Are you fucking him to get a place there?”

A red streak of anger plunged through her, head to toe, at his words, and she squeezed her hand shut to keep from raising it to slap him. She breathed deep, held his furious gaze with her own. The worst thing of all was that she had wondered the same thing at first, wondered if Fox had put her name through to someone. But that wouldn’t have been as low as what Daniel was suggesting now. And he hadn’t, anyway. “Are you following me? You were watching me?”

“You said there was no one else.”

“When I said that, there wasn’t.”

“How’d you meet him?”

“Daniel, it’s none of your business.” She’d backed up further, and now she gripped the door’s handle behind her back.

“When?”

“Daniel,” she said again, slower this time. “It’s none of your business.” Eyes fierce, ice blue, hard as stones, she wouldn’t back down.

“You’d be stupid to join the FBI.” His words were bitter things. “You’d be throwing your life away. You’ll be nothing, just some lab rat. Is that all you are?”

His shift in tense didn’t go unnoticed, and his vile words stung. She saw, then, that he thought he was losing something of his own making in her decision to leave. He saw her choice as his failure. Part of her wanted to feel pity for this man and his crippling pride. But she did not. “I’m not yours,” she said. “You didn’t make me what I am. My future is my own.”

“Your future’s in some cinderblock basement without any heat, surrounded by dead things.”

“I’ll bring justice to those dead things,” she said with her own version of venom, which was truth and not poison. “And you’ll send the FBI the first letter, because it’s what you promised.” She swallowed. “And my future is with someone I love.”

With that she twisted the handle and swung open the door. Dana turned on her heel and kept her shoulders straight as she could down the length of the hallway. She pressed the barred door that led into the stairwell and, when she saw that it was empty, collapsed against the railing. Her hands came to her face and she let out one solitary sob, a single choked concession to her overwhelming emotions while she bent at the waist over disinfected tile. Then she tucked them back into place and stood, if somewhat unsteadily. She wondered how many more men like this there would be in her future. How many in the FBI, how many in the labs, on the training field, in her own parents’ living room. She imagined her spine stiffening like rebar, her heart growing brittle with ice as it steeled itself against cutting onslaught of their judgment. Then she thought of Fox, how his face crumpled slightly when he spoke with empathy for his victims. She thought how he’d said It takes a lot out of me. She thought how his eyes could thaw the ice and melt the rebar before they could make her rigid and cold. If he were there, she could be a different kind of strong.

Still braced against the railing, Dana swiped at her eyes, pushed some escaped hair back toward her ponytail, and took a deep breath. She went slowly down the stairs, regaining herself as she went. She’d caught the FBI’s attention on her own merit. She loved someone who didn’t want to possess her, but to listen to her. She was flying toward him, and a new future near him, in two days. She would be okay.

—

Tuesday - Athens, Georgia

“Diana, this case designation is strange.” He had loosened his tie, and was slouched at the motel’s small table, looking through the file for a hundredth time. “I meant to ask earlier—why does it begin with an X in stead of a number?”

Diana sat across from him, transcribing notes from a recorded interview. She paused the tape and pulled the orange padded headphones from her ear. “Hmm?”

“The case file,” he said, tapping the number on its outer file-folder. “Its designation is strange. I haven’t seen that before.”

“I’m not sure,” she said. “This one came directly from Blevins.”

Fox looked up. “From Blevins? Why so high up?”

Diana shrugged. “The second victim, he was ex-military. Maybe some government big wigs wanted to push it through?”

Fox chewed the top of his pen, tried to use this information rethink the connections, the motive. “You think the killer could be military too?” The deaths seemed random, but too strange to be unconnected: localized burns, charred like stripes across four men’s torsos.

“Could be,” she said. “It’s worth checking. Unless you’re in too much of a hurry to get out of here. You have a date back in DC or something?”

She said it jokingly, but Fox looked up sharply, caught in the headlights. He supposed he was pretty obvious, and she’d been there when he got the phone call, but he didn’t want his love life to affect his work. “I’m sorry,” he said.

Diana shook her head with a half-smile. “Who is she?”

“She’s—“ he thought about how to describe Dana Scully, what words he could possibly use to talk about her. Then he thought about the fact that she may be joining the FBI and thought he’d better keep her name to himself. She didn’t need to start out in this minefield already surrounded by rumors. “She’s a doctor. Brilliant. But it’s long-distance right now.”

“Must be hard.”

A small, tight nod, followed by an awkward silence. He looked back at the report.

“Do you think…” he said after a moment. “You think there are more cases like this? Marked with an X in this way?”

— end chapter seven —

go to chapter 8

#a thing i wrote #simple #chapter seven #au #msr #melissa/samantha #it's been sooooo long #i feel bad

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starbuck09256 · 5 years

Text

A picture in the sand

Episode Fic

Unruhe

Pictures in the Sand

Author: @starbuck09256

For: Kasey Slippin Mickeys

Rating: Teen (I did use the f word not sorry)

First a huge Shot Out to @gaycrouton for putting this goodie together. Girl you are fantastic. I can’t wait to read your fic and everyone else's!

My prompt was Unruhe and that it should take place in Traverse City with another woman goes missing. I followed it mostly. I rewatched the episode about 9 times, which isn’t bad I like the ep anyway. Here is my angsty (as requested) interpretation.

Not gonna lie, I’m really terrible at procrastinating so this is very much not Beta’d I apologize for spelling and grammar errors. Just happy to barely make the deadline.

6am Dana Scully's Apartment

She wheels her suitcase next to the end table. Not paying attention she swings it to far and the picture frame on top falls and shatters to the newly stained wood flooring. “Shit” Scully mutters before moving her suitcase to find all the shards of broken glass. She picks up the frame staring at a picture of her and Melissa at a family picnic at the beach from a few years ago. Melissa’s glowing smile staring back at her, she traces the pattern of Melissa’s dress remembering Melissa spinning them around in the sand, letting the tiny pebbles crush against their toes. Like they used to do in San Diego. Melissa had been galavanting around the world and had just gotten back her smile to be with family, the lightest Dana had seen her in the last few years. Scully thought it was just because Melissa had finally gone to all the places she talked about endlessly in the dark confines of their shared room. Scully sighs, she remembers that dress Melissa wore in a different context too, one where she is helping their mom pack it away in a donation bin. Melissa so much taller than Scully, it didn’t make sense for Scully to keep it in the back of her closet as a reminder of the women who embodied the bright color and flowy design. The picture inside the jagged frame not scratched and torn right on the side of Melissa dress. The irony isn’t lost as she sits there on the floor where Melissa bled out in between the wood slates a bullet meant for Scully, a life meant for Melissa. She can’t help feeling that the last two years have been so unfair, she is no closer to justice for her sister, no closer to finding the answers of where Duane Berry took her. Now as the nightmares have increased she thinks of the women in Allentown all dying slowly, she wonders if she is next in line. If this picture of her and her sister will find its home on her moms mantle along with catholic candles that flicker in and out of all the lives tragically cut short by senseless violence. Scully presses the picture into the front pouch of her suitcase. Vowing to find a new frame to hold the precious photo right when she gets back from their new case in Michigan.

She’s only been to Michigan a couple of times. The only real fact about the state that she loved is no matter where you are you are within 7 miles of water. The water calls to her, always has, from years of watching her father navigate it’s depths to summers spent at camps with giant lakes that at night made you feel like you might as well be in the middle of the ocean. She remembers briefly staying once and seeing the shores of the great lake as it extended out for miles. From her seat at the window she looks out to the expanse of trees and meadows the clouds just above the horizon. Mulder shifts against her. His head resting in her lap on his coat. It’s been a weird few months between bounty hunters and his moms stroke he is more restless than normal. The case brought to them because of the weird photo of a girl seemingly screaming into the camera. Mulder ever elusive with his information he likes to dangle clues and hints to her but never the full story. It use to be fun, this game they play him trying to get her to open her mind to the fantastic to make connections and leaps with scraps of information. Now though it just gets on her nerves. Why not just tell her the facts? Does he think she is so closed minded that she will refuse to go? She wants to refuse. Start standing up for herself more, part of her is tired of seeing these women taken, beaten, lives destroyed in the end does it even matter the how? Is the why so important? What about stopping it? Lately she feels like they are only there for the aftermath, taken to a point so far outside of plausible. She’s getting tired of being taken herself. He mumbles in his sleep and shifts closer to her. That’s the real problem she thinks, how close they are and yet not at all. While they spend endless hours together, eating, sleeping in crappy motel rooms, driving miles and miles of road and for what? to be put in danger constantly?

The larger part of her though finds it still so thrilling. The challenge the way his eyes light up when he gets a new case and they go back and forth it's why he dangles clues and hints. He loves seeing her mind work, and in truth she loves the challenge. She looks at the photo again, the edging is distorted the colors blending together. She isn’t sure how you would capture an image like this, how the abductor took such a photo. She presses her finger down on the edge looking at the long lines on the side, a face to the far right what is that? A reflection? She wonders what the image is trying to say. She thinks of the photos of her and Melissa torn and stuffed into her roller bag under the seat. She thinks back to all the photos she has taken over the years the others that grace her mantel in tiny rows. Her brothers photo with his new wife how he blames her openly for Melissa's death. As if she didn't already blame herself. She thinks of those women in Allentown how they said they are all dying, the photos they showed her of others like them that have passed on. She has an appointment in 3 months for more scans. She joined the mufon group and has been getting emails of members passing away one by one. Leaving children and husbands behind. She would only leave behind sad plants and half finished articles for medical journals and Mulder. How would he do with a new partner, she thinks back to Jerry whom he just described as a colleague. Is that all she would be to him in the end? A colleague a good friend? There have been moments when she thought they would be more. Melissa certainly thought they would be. Melissa's’ constant insistence that Mulder was the compliment to Scully's stubborn soul. Scully wonders if this is going to be the end will he be her last? She's never missed having a lover. But lately she wishes her bed wasn't so lonely. Now as Melissa has pointed out she has in fact put everything and everyone on hold for this search of theirs, to find answers for him and now for her. In the past she has found men who are obsessed with things it seems. The latest one resting in her lap. She swallows hard, sleeping with Mulder would be a terrible idea, but if there weren't consequences because she would be gone in a few months? She tries to clear her conscience about it all, her recent scans were fine but the emails of more and more members with the same type of cancer in exactly the same spot are more than scaring her. Mulder is scared too, she now stops mentioning when another one has been laid to rest. She’s seen his fear shining into her eyes when she gets even a cold. Imagine what cancer from a lover would do to the man? She would never do that to him. If the dedication he has for his annoyingly little sister is anything. The rabbit hole he would fall down if they were more and she was taken by the disease from her abduction would kill him.

She thinks about her mother and father, how after his death the strong capable of anything Margaret Scully faltered. At first her mom said she could pretend for a few minutes in the morning that he was still at sea, that his smile would grace her eyes soon as he would sweep her into a deep hug that warmed her bones. Then she would remember, remember that time was short. Missy's death certainly didn't help. Losing a child is something that no parent should ever bare. She had asked Dana to give her antidepressants, and while it scared Scully to the core it renewed her mother's faith in God. That that was the only way she could keep going, knowing that her Ahab would be there waiting for a life eternal and her sweet daughter's spirit would be free. But Melissa's death had done the opposite for Scully, she has scene so much injustice so many things that make her doubt God's word that now she has become skeptical and even cynical in so many ways. Mulder has seen it in her and while she wears her cross everyday part of it is just because it reminds her of Melissa. It reminds her to try and fight. She will fight till the bitter end. Even if that is sooner than she wants to believe. Mulder shifts slightly again and she moves the picture through her fingers. Tries to put that skepticalness to the side. Tries to think like Mulder would. Why would the killer leave it at the scene? How did he get it beforehand? Was he stalking her? She taps on the photo again and moves back to the case file, shifting just slightly careful to not disturb Mulder.

She reads the report over and over until her eyes want to water at the dry dead air of the cabin. The sun is seeping through the light onto Mulders hair now, his features almost boyish in sleep. She is usually the one sleeping against him even if flying isn’t her favorite thing. She squirms in her seat a bit wishing secretly that Mulder would wake up so she can lay against his shoulder and catch a few minutes of sleep herself. She moves her hand, fingers brushing through his hair. She knows he doesn’t mind, though he still teases her a little when she does it in doctor mode. She sees his small smile and he starts to move. She gives him a soft smile back as he rubs his eyes looking at her with the translucent clouds shading the sun as it shines dimly on her hair. He reaches up and touches her cheek to sweep a stray strand off her face. “Your turn” it’s almost a whisper. She smiles gratefully as he moves and positions his jacket against his shoulder for her to rest against. She sighs as she snuggles into the warm fabric. Mulder pulls the shade down against the morning dawn as they continue to soar through the air.

2 hours later

She wakes dimly to the voice of the captain letting them know they are starting their dissent into Grand Rapids. Traverse city looms another 2 hours away along the lake coast. It’s interesting the rules they have made through the years. They never discuss a case on a flight and so that time has been devoted to them reading books sometimes playing cards. Arguing over which mythical creature is the most likely to exist. Or more often than not it’s like this morning's flight snuggled against each other asleep. She hears Mulders soft snores against her head. The last few months she has been more worried about his sleeping habits especially after she told him what she found in Allentown. More often he comes in with dark circles and the extra coffee through the day has not gone unnoticed. She can’t complain though, because despite all of this he still is there in the morning to greet her, with a steaming cup to chase away her own night terrors. Places like planes offer a few moments of peace that the other one is safe, and that they are together. She tries not to analyze it too much. Tries to rationalize the fact that they have been through some truly horrible things and are bound to have some strong ptsd and codependency issues. She doesn’t want to love him that way. She likes them just being friends. She wants a bit more out of life, especially if there is less available to her, seeing all of these things over the years she is wondering what she is really fighting for anymore if not for Melissa maybe she would have already left. Is it to be flying off to save women from abductions? Is she trying to find validity in her choice to prove to herself that giving up medicine to become an FBI agent was really the best decision? Is she now leading herself down a path to have another Jack or even worse another Daniel?

She knows that Mulder is in love with her. She knows that he has become just as dependent on her as she has on him. She doesn’t want that, she doesn’t want a world where the two of them can only exist with the other. She has become consumed by this quest of his and paid so dearly, and now here they are chasing a lead on a case they really have no business on. She knows that it’s about the picture. He sees something or knows something she doesn’t. She’ll have to wait for the drive into town to find out.

As they reach the drugstore she is lost in the sea that is the investigation, while she looks at expired film heating beneath it parts of the edging make sense, if the film is expired and the heat has distorted the edges. But the screaming that is odd, when she points these things out to Mulder he finally explains his theory. She sees a photo booth in the drugstore small and yet she wonders if the film has been tampered here too. Mulder must think something similar as he grabs her hand just as she finishes her questions to the owner. “This film shouldn’t have the same distortion if my theory is correct.” he mutters pulling her into the small intimate photo booth. She sighs “Mulder,” she starts but he pulls her down and she is sitting right next to him and he’s smiling and pointing to the camera. She gives him the look, the one that shows she is not amused, but he wraps his arm around her leans forward to start the series of 5 photographs of them. He tries to do bunny ears and the camera catches her laughing at it. She sticks out her tongue in the next and so does he. The third picture is just them stern and serious. The fourth a soft smile from both of them. The fifth begins to click and he makes a kissy face and her grin lights up the tiny booth. Its short lived and while she thinks the exercise is pointless the film proves to be unaffected. She waits for Mulder to throw the pictures away but he doesn’t he pulls out his wallet and tucks them in with a 20 dollar bill and 2 ones. She shakes her head, he asks the owner if they can take a few more photos with the same film. “I think the picture is the key to this Scully,” he leaves and she follows him out.

They drive to the girls house, pictures on the fridge of a normal couple. Lost in moments together, traveling, and laughing. She wonders if they will find this girl alive, if these will be the last time she smiles. She thinks of moments when her and Mulder where sure that it was the end. She thinks of the pictures of them in his wallet. What a stranger would think. What she thinks of this closeness that has grown between them.

He takes the camera “Watch out scully it’s loaded,” and he points it right at her but the picture that comes out is of the girl distorted again and she looks up at him confused. He starts to tell her more about his growing theory, how these pictures are the key Psychic photography. She hates this, she hates looking at cases and having him come up with something so crazy she has to try and wrap her mind around it. She always gives him the benefit of the doubt listens to his theories, but sometimes she just wants a simple explanation. Maybe she is just burned out. It happens to everyone with all the things that have happened to them she hasn’t had a chance to take a break. She wants to talk about this more but as always he is already getting ready to leave. “He was here I think he stalked her.” As they step out into the bright sunshine her phone starts to ring, letting them know that Mary has been found wandering and disoriented.

At the hospital Scully is faced with looking in the hollow eyes of the woman on the fridge, one that won’t be smiling again as pain and inevitable death beacon her near. The scans don’t lie, Mary is facing a very difficult road of recovery if that is even possible. As Scully stares at the scans as Mulder goes to grab them something resembling coffee she thinks of Betsy in Allentown, about those women with tumors at the same spot as Marys unfortunate lobotomy. Mulder has sense Scully's distance and luckily has chosen to back off, leaving her with the time she needs to figure things out. Scully is deep in thought when Mulder returns he sets down the coffee letting the steam rise up and wafted into her nose. It’s a beautiful smell coffee, seems the fine people of Traverse City understand its importance. Mulder touches her shoulder gently a sad smile across his lips as he stars at the scans once more. Just as the uniform officer comes in and tells them another woman has been taken. Anger boils through Scully, whomever this guy is he has no idea what he is doing and unless they find him soon she is afraid of another poor woman facing the same fate. Mulder throws the rental keys to her knowing that right now he needs time to look over the details from the officer, starting working up a profile right away. Precious time is ticking fast as she presses her foot down on the pedal. This is her strength driving fast and a little more reckless than Mulder ever has. It annoys him, how much she speeds and whips into places. It’s why he drives most of the time in reality. Because she got tired of hearing him complain about her going to fast, but time is of the essence. They are following a patrol car the blue and red lights flash into the fading sun. As they race around the corner. Mulder finally looks up at her his voice catches in his throat. “Mary will never be the same will she?” Scully shakes her head in sadness. “We need to find this person, and fast” She nods and throws the car into park, throwing her seatbelt off dashing to the scene. They need a clue, a hint, and hopefully something more than a screaming girl in a fucking polariod.

Just as they get there they realize that the rush wasn’t necessary, Scully needs to review the file as Mulder heads right inside to assist. Another man dead another woman taken and nothing to go on. Mulder doesn’t find any cameras or film, in the car as he was thinking through the profile he wonders about the word Unruhe, a place? A thing? A person? It sounds like it’s a word. He asks one of the officers to use the computer quickly typing the word into a search box as he continues shuffling through 1040s and spreadsheets. Scully walks in the file in her hand, a killer like this she thinks might have been there might have been at the scene. As they argue again over the photograph she feels the frustration of the day, of the inevitable failure that might await them if they can’t find something quickly. Mulder is ready to head back to Washington, to find the clues that have eluded them so that she can save the next victim. Both of them know that time is limited and Alice doesn’t have long, while she thinks him going back to Washington is a mistake, it’s really not that long of a flight and the bureau does have some fantastic resources. She sighs hangs her head and works her connection. It seems that for them, when they go their separate ways they form a complete picture in the end.

She watches as he races out leaving her the keys to the rental car as he hitches a ride back again. She works through the evening and well into the night in a small motel with a view of Grand Traverse Bay on Lake Michigan. She opens the window and listens to the water softly kissing the sand while the moonlight shines off the lakes black opals and into the darkness. Mulder calls her lets her know his planes has landed and he has been able to get a forensic photographer to help him first thing in the morning. She lets him know that Mary Lefont died and she fears that the same will be true for Alice if the construction owner has hired men off the books. Mulder sighs, “You caught that Scully, you found us a tangible lead as soon as I find something out with this photo I’ll call you it should help you refine it” She hums in response right now she is looking at a list of 300 people in the apartments next to the latest abduction. She sighs and says she is tired before hanging up. She knows that sleep will be hard fought tonight, it’s already almost 3am. She walks out of the hotel towards the Bay listens to the waves as they crash against the shore with a dullness. While the stars shine brightly out beyond the black depths of the lake she thinks of Mary, about those pictures of her smiling in those photos on the fridge. Her toes are in the rough sand from the lake, not like the sand that she and Melissa danced to in the photo. She wonders of Alice's family will have similar photos on their mantel of another woman taken in her 30s. She hopes that the station can pull up something on the construction workers, they need this lead. Regardless of the success Mulder thinks he will find she needs the tangible investigative skills of the mortal realm. She walks back to her room, letting the moonlight chase her form across the soft swirls of the water. She falling into a lifeless deep sleep while the dull ticking of Alice's life lingers in the background.

In the morning after she wrestles Gerry to the ground. She thinks back about the pictures she has of Ahab of the two of them at her medical school graduation, her white coat and his proud smile. She wonders after all the terrible things that have happened to her would he still be so proud? Or would his smile have dimmed like that glossy paper it was printed on. Would her own eyes shine as brightly as they did that day ever again? Or had the 3 months she missed, the sister she mourned be evident through the lense. She knew the risks was aware of the horror she would face. Lately she feels as if she is facing a far more looming nightmare. Another birthday another lonely night with no prospects of changing. Mulder and her might be pushing that line in the sand between acceptable partnerly behavior but it’s a not a road she is ready to take, nor is she sure she wants too. She loves him, she knows this after so many dangerous situations, hours and days spent together how could she not. She thinks of the other pictures she knows he keeps in his wallet. The one of him and Sam, sometimes she thinks she still sees that young innocent kid staring back at her. His devilish grin when he shows her the fantastic. The way his face lights up just a little when she pulls out his favorite sunflower seeds when he was sure they were out. Does he see it in her? Does he see the young agent who was new to the field but prepared for the boys club? Does he see the same smile and young ambition she once was so consumed with that she let the rest of her life slip away? She’s getting older her birthday just passing and she thinks about the fact that now she is as old as Melissa was when she died. She thinks about the pictures they won’t take, about the people now missing from the Christmas dinners, the Sunday brunch, the nephews birthday parties. Her phone rings and it’s Mulder he booked the first flight back and is already on his way to the precinct. She wants to know where Alice Bryant is she wants them to win one for once. Mulder wants her to wait until they can interrogate Gerry together. They are so good together, she knows. The two of them play off each other so well with suspects. Mulder seems crazy and she seems scary and she loves it. She loves the power it gives her. She loves seeing justice and fear mingle together in the room. She hopes they are scared, hopes that the suspects feel even the small degree of fear that they cause their victims to feel. It is that feeling that has kept her with the FBI, she loves being the one to find the evidence and then confront the suspect with her findings. Mulder is in a way the perfect partner for her. He steps back lets her take the lead, knows that if anyone will find something tangible to hang a case on it’ll be her.

Gerry gives them a location, and as they race to find her, she can’t help but be angry at Gerry seeing her as troubled. She isn’t troubled is she? Conflicted? Scared? Maybe. She doesn’t want to overthink a psychopaths words. She learned long ago from Mulders profiles how they use words and gestures to gain trust. Luther Lee Boggs being a prime example for them both.

Scully races up the hill hoping and praying that they can find Alice alive, and hopefully not as damaged as Mary, but as she makes it to the top, Alices still form crushes her thoughts. She touches Alices’ cold skin, her cheeks. Watches as the CS tech starts to take photos of the scene. More photos, more death, and now another body. At least Gerry is in custody. At least they saved the future woman that he might have tortured and killed. Mulder meets her at the car, her anger rolls off her in waves like the lake shore. Maybe tonight she will sit on the shore and cry, no one would be able to hear her sobs over the water. She wants to leave to go home and fix her broken frame try to not think of photos and sand and lives that could have been. She can’t drive and though she wanted to be in control she hands the keys to Mulder so they can drive back to their hotel and clean up. She needs to wash the failure she feels down the drain. It doesn’t work that way, Gerry shot the police officer that was processing him, they put out an APB but her mind can only race about possible new victims he already might be on his way to take.

They look at the photo of the officer on the paperwork, Mulder is right the photos are probably the key. God who else did Gerry take a photo of? Who else is going to deal with a madman telling them they are troubled and killing them to fix it?

Apparently the benefit of Traverse City being smaller than most major metropolitan areas is when you need to steal something you pick the same drugstore you stalked your victims. Gerry has assaulted the owner and taken more film. They walk through the drugstore one more time, she thinks of the apartment complexes on each side and tells Mulder as such as he once again puts money into the photo machine. She looks at him in curiosity, last time they went in this time he is letting it roll without them. HIs theory has developed and isn’t ready to share just yet, she knows he will explain in the car. She wants to get going, he tosses her the keys and she walks out into the bright sun.

She doesn’t remember much she remembers her foot hurting from the injection remembers the struggle as she tries to get her gun. She wakes strapped to a chair with Gerry in the dark corner as her eyes try to adjust to the light. Her arms taped down roughly the large sheetrock tool on the shiny metal table. She wants to plead in a responsible way. Gerry knows that this is the end, she can’t let him think that she will be part of his prize. She doesn’t remember much of her German important phrases and it takes her a few moments to come up with what to say to him. Especially since conversational german was the only class she ever got a B in. Luckily the words are there, as if her mind knows to channel the knowledge buried so deep. Gerry gets up to grab the camera, she sees her chance if she can get the tray she can cut her restraints and take him out. She needs to stall, she needs Mulder to have time to find her. She wants to give him time, She asks Gerry about his own Howlers about the trouble with his father. She channels Mulder and knows what brothers will do for sisters. Her own brother would do for her and Melissa. Gerry pulls the tray away and takes the camera to take her picture once more. She struggles with thinking that the photos she took with Mulder in that small cramped little booth won’t be the last ones he sees of her. He will see her on the floor of the padded room in a weird distorted photo that will filter into his dreams for years to come. But luck is on her side and she is able to convince Gerry to take a photo of himself. The camera flash is almost blinding, she knows he is sick she just needs to show him that this has always been about him and not anyone else. The photos come out in a small series of flashes, they wait for the polarization to show the image. She feels vindicated when they show him dead, show him his fate. That justice is finally with her. She just hopes it doesn’t plan on taking her with him. Gerry flips through the photos over and over. Questioning the images, like Mulder did. What do they mean? She hopes they mean that her life will be hers again, that she will be able to see the waves and shore once more. But Gerry thinks it’s about time, that his time is ending and he must hurry. Fear runs through her body a surge of adrenaline as she tugs and struggles against the restraints. She thinks about the time she almost drowned, how it felt struggling in the water, wondering why something so beautiful and peaceful would try to take her life. How she would gasp and flail her arms in sheer panic, like now as she hears Mulder calling her name. God Mulder please please prove that picture true and he does. Thank god he does. She feels him release her final bonds reach out his hand to take hers. She feels the storm calming inside of her, like Mulder is a life preserve her around her waist pulling her up against the tide. She walks out of the dark trailer, walks past the paramedics straight to the lakeshore. She takes off her heels, the prick of the injection still stings but the sand and the wind and the waves cradle her in their embrace. She takes a deep breath, lets the air of the misty water fill her lungs up. She takes a moment to look down at her feet in the sand and as she looks up she almost swears she sees Melissa in the distance dancing on a distant shore.

tagging @today-in-fic @gaycrouton @xfilesfanficexchange @improlificinsarcasm

#xfepisode2019 #mulder and scully #unruhe #s4 #fanfic #msr #angst #myfic #xfchallenge #so glad to be done #man I need a beer #this was a toughie #hope you like it Kasey!

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lokisgame · 6 years

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Just As Friends [2]

[part 1]

She won, two out of three, then they did a few rounds of steady backstroke to rest, letting their thoughts float aimlessly. Mulder watched the lights reflected of water onto the ceiling, hearing nothing but his own measured breathing, weightless, happy. Even loosing to her felt good, fair. She didn't gloat, she didn't try anything, simply threw herself into the competition, unafraid, ready to give 100 percent. He had a feeling she did that with everything, and the thought made him smile. He glanced to his left and saw pale, slender arms draw graceful arcs above the surface. They passed the final flags and turned around to go back. He waited for her at, what he realized, was the deep end of the pool, five and a half feet was nothing for him, but for her it meant treading water to keep breathing. Crossing the last few yards in a slow breaststroke, she didn't stop when he reached out for her. “Let's take a minute.” Her hand on his shoulder, meeting half way, and a second later her arms were around his neck, thighs around his waist. Scully smiled when his arms closed around her, hands gallantly above the waist. Mulder touched bare skin, the back of her suit cut out deep, and his cheeks colored when their eyes met; so much for suave. She kept smiling, though, pulling herself closer, her embrace warm, soft breasts just a layer of fabric away. Her chin landed on his shoulder and he held her close, trying to think friendly thoughts. "Thanks,” she sighed into his ear, and let the water take her weight as he kept her from sinking. In that moment, she trusted him. "Any time," he said, hugging her lightly and she hugged him back.

"You can study at my place, if you want," he offered, as the doors closed behind them. "No, but thanks," she smiled, hiking the gym bag on her shoulder a little higher, "if they haven't worn each other out by now, the guy would have to be an olympic gold medalist in bed." Mulder filed that away to think about later. "Okay, but let me walk you home anyway, it's late." "Don't you have your own studying to do?" "I'll manage." He smiled and pulled the hood of her jacket over her head, "C'mon, you'll catch a cold." "Doctors don't get sick," she said, pushing the hood back, "don't you know that?" "Yes, they do," he pulled it up again, chuckling. "I can't see you," she whined, trying to fix it. "Yeah, I'm brilliant and handsome, such a shame," he scoffed, putting arm around her shoulders, hand resting lightly on the top of her head, to keep her from throwing the hood back. "Stop it, if I can do it, so can you." She looked up, and true enough, his face was shadowed by the enormous hood of his navy blue windbreaker. "You look like you just got off the deck of a fishing trawler." "Arrrgh," Mulder growled making her giggle, and picked a path that lead back to the dorms. "I was going for clandestine meeting in a dark alley, but I'll take it." "Sure, Captain." Mulder let go and the night became just a little bit colder than it was a second ago. 15 minutes later they stopped in front of her dorm complex. Somewhere above, through a cracked window, they could hear a girl scream, short staccato yelps of ecstasy and then a piercing cry, someone on another floor cheered, hands clapping. Scully groaned shaking her head in resignation, Mulder chuckled. "What are they on?" "My offer stands." "You don't mind?" He nudged her a little, to get moving, "let's get your stuff." Different speakers blared behind closed doors, as they walked down the corridor to her place. People coped as they could, by creating noise of their own. A girl, tall and slender, wearing jeans and a crop-top that said 'I can't, I'm in med school' went past them, rocking her hips and smiling at Mulder, like she could. "It will take just a minute." Scully said, unlocking the door and flicking the lights on. The room was small but neat, books stacked, notes only slightly askew in their binders, charts stuck to walls with tape mixed with pictures and polaroids, stemming from a black and white print of Einstein, his tongue stuck out to the wold. "I thought you were a med student." He said, trying to understand the connection. "I did my undergrad thesis in physics." She said, emptying the gym bag onto the floor and hanging out the wet towel over the back of a chair, before packing thick volumes into it. "And you switched to medicine?" "Long story," she zipped up the bag and went for the bathroom, the tap started, water splashed. The towel slipped to the floor and Mulder went to pick it up, taking a glance at her desk, more books and lecture notes. A framed picture of what had to be younger Scully caught his attention, her arm around a slightly younger boy, one tooth missing from his grin. Behind them, a tall man had his arms around a younger version of himself and a girl, matching them in height, but willowy instead of solid. All red-haired and freckled to varying degrees, smiling to the camera. Her family, father, two brothers and a sister, all five of them happy. "Okay, I'm good to go." She said, coming back, drying her hands. He glanced up, feeling guilty of snooping, but she came to his side, pointing to the picture. "That's Bill and Missy, Ahab and my baby brother, Charlie." She smelled like apple pie and just a hint chlorine. "Cute," he put the picture back, next to a huge mug filled with highlighter rainbow, "let's go." Before she opened her mouth to argue, he took her bag and swung it over his shoulder, leading her out and just as Scully was locking the doors, the moaning started again. "You've got to be kidding me," she sighed, shaking her head. "Maybe they're scared of the Russian judge." Mulder grinned, and taking her lightly by the arm, made her walk faster. She looked puzzled for a second, but he winked at her and as they passed the lovers' room, he pounded one fist on the door. "Keep it down, will ya!" He yelled and grabbing her hand, they ran. Scully laughed as they stumbled down the stairs.

They shared the couch, Scully curled up in one end, Mulder stretched out in the other. Silence reigned, broken only by rustle of pages, soft thumps of textbooks against the coffee table and occasional crack of sunflower seed. Nursing second mug of black coffee, Scully leaned back on the arm rest, stretching her legs. His hand landed on her crossed ankles, petting them absently, eyes never leaving the paragraph he was reading. Sometime past 1 am, she ended up lying down on the seat, with her legs bent at the knee and draped over his, sharing the cramped space. The book she was reading a minute ago, lay open on the floor. Mulder took the blanket from the back of the couch and draped it over the two of them, letting himself rest too, just for a few minutes. The swim had really taken it out of him. Curling up a little he felt her shift, limbs growing heavier with sleep. He noticed the diagram she was studying; human heart with all it’s cross-sections, every part marked and labeled in Latin, and wondered, which parts held the people she loved, and if there was any room left, for one, Fox William Mulder.

#x files fanfic #msr fanfic #fluff #just as friends #college au

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fullmetalwindbreaker · 5 years

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incomplete list of my favorite tom waits lyrics

- never drive a car when you’re dead

- there’s always free cheddar in the mousetrap baby, it’s a deal

- what’s he building in there?

- the lion has three heads, and someone will eat the skin that he sheds

- well hell doesn't want you and heaven is full, bring me some water, put it in this skull

- if there’s one thing you can say about mankind, there’s nothing kind about man

- god tempers all the ruins for the new shorn lands, the devil knows the bible like the back of his hand, all the good in the world you can put inside a thimble and still have room for you and me

- come down off the cross, we can use the wood

- ol captain ahab he ain't got nothin on me now, so swallow me, don't follow me

- offered me a key, cuz opportunity don’t knock

- fifteen feet of snow in the east, and it’s colder than a welldigger’s ass

- well there’s one thing you can’t lose it’s that feel, your pants your shirt your shoes, but not that feel

- I'm a pool-shooting shimmy-shyster shaking my head

- bazanti bootin al zootin al hoot and al cohn

- impossible you say? hard to believe? perhaps out of the realm of possibility? Naaaah

- [Pretend German] kommienezuspadt, kommienezuspadt, kommienezuspadt, kommienezuspadt, sei punktlich , sei punktlich , sei punktlich, kommienezuspadt

- when the road's washed out they pass the bottle around, and wait in the arms of the cold cold ground

- gimme a winchester rifle and a whole box of shells, blow the roof off the goat barn let it roll down the hill, the piano is firewood times square is a dream

- i know you can’t speak i know you can’t sign, so cry right here on the dotted line

- colder than a gutshot bitch wolf dog with nine sucking pups pulling a number four trap up a hill in the dead of winter in the middle of a snowstorm with a mouth full of porcupine quills

- he was in a wrecking yard in a switchblade storm, in a wheelbarrow with nothing but revenge to keep him warm

- tonight i’ll shave the mountain, i’ll cut the hearts from pharaohs

- i drink 100 shipwrecks, tonight i’ll steal your paychecks

- there is a drum of bourbon, 800 pounds of nitro, his boots are thunder as he plays, there is a stone inside it, tonight his bones will ride it, i’ll need a tent to hide it

- i know karate, voodoo too, i’m gonna make myself available to you, i don’t need no makeup i got real scars, i got hair on my chest, i look good without a shirt

- now i’ve always been puzzled by the yin and the yang, it’ll come out in the wash but it always leaves a stain

- I think about you every time I pass a filling station on account of all the grease you used to wear in your hair

- boney's high on china white, shorty found a punk, don't you know there ain't no devil, there's just god when he's drunk

- there's always construction work bothering you in the neighborhood in the neighborhood in the neighborhood

- as the senators decapitate the presidential whore, the bald headed senators are splashing in the blood

- it’s raining and it’s pouring on the pillaging and goring

- Frank settled down in the valley and hung his wild years on a nail that he drove through his wife's forehead

- perhaps this yarn is the only thing that holds this man together, some say he was never here at all

- let marrow bone and cleaver choose while making feet for children’s shoes, through the alley, back from hell, when you hear that steeple bell, you must say goodbye to me

- independent as a hog on ice

- it was a train that took me away from you, but a train can't bring me home

- she just goes clank and boom and steam, a halo, wings, horns and a tail, shoveling coal inside my dreams, there are no laws she's made of cream

- i got to keep my eyes open so i can see my lord, i’m gonna watch the horizon for a brand new ford

- how do you move in a world of fog that’s always changing things, makes me wish that i could be a dog

- i got the style but not the grace

- dig a big pit in a dirt alley road, fill it with madrone and bay, stinks like hell

- life’s a mistake all day long, tell me who gives a good god damn

- god used me as a his hammer, boys, to beat his weary drum today

- the sun is up the world is flat, damn good address, for a rat

#long post #im sorry i had a treemndous urge to chronicle all this

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tepkunset · 5 years

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X-Force Vol 5 #6

The X-Force Discourse

Shoutout to @fuckyeahbatgirls for motivating me to get off my ass and finally catch up on this series and these posts LOL 🖤

TL;DR Synopsis:

This issue is just a flashback to how Ahab wound up with Constantin and Baby Stryfe (yeah turns out Stryfe is also in baby form, I don’t know why I was too dumb to realize that, I mean of course,) ended up working with the Transia government. He lies to a bunch of mutants brought to him in exchange for the futuristic weapons he provided the military with about Cable and his group being terrorists, and convinces them to fight for him. Additionally, he now has a still houndified Rachel under his control, who he’s been using to take out Clan Chosen back (or forth) in his future. Then finally we return to the present battle, where Baby Stryfe forces Baby Cable to surrender by promising if he doesn’t, X-Force, Clan Chosen and Rachel will all die. So he does, going through the portal and leaving X-Force behind.

Things I like About This Issue:

Shit actually happened that we didn’t already know and mattered, which is a step up from the last one. Congrats on passing the bar so low it might as well be in Subterranea.

But in all seriousness though, this issue does connect some dots that still needed connecting. It’s nice when stories come together.

I now have significant hope that Rachel will be de-hound somehow at some point soon, even if she’s gotta suffer through more bullshit before then. I’m just so glad she wasn’t forgotten.

Baby Stryfe took off his helmet and I lost my shit over him having good hair LOL. He looks like a cross between Cable and Winter Soldier.

I can actually buy X-Force being taken down by Baby Stryfe’s groupies, given James was taken down by surprise, and two of the three of them are kind of impossible to get near? One guy is made of electricity and the other fire, so... I’m actually not really sure how they’d be defeated. Maybe Domino will actually get the chance to use her guns? Or I suppose Shatterstar could take one for the team and get fried up in order to stab’em? I’d suggest that James could do the same, if not for the fact that Brisson apparently conveniently forgot he has a healing factor on par with Wolverine. I’m not including Cannonball because so far he’s done jack shit in actual fighting, in favour of just flying around in the background or whatever...

Things I Dislike About This Issue:

...Seriously, what exactly was Sam’s plan here, though? I’m trying to understand what is going on. He flies overhead this guy to do... something... and then just gets taken out? What happened to being nigh invulnerable when blastin?

It’s like he’s forgotten during every fight. All he does is fly around and get acting all high and mighty. 🙄

At one point for a second I thought we were actually supposed to sympathize with Baby Stryfe, when he starts talking about how he’s a failure to Apocalypse. I was like pssht yeah next please. But given he then goes onto secretly have all the mutants who won’t fight for him dig their own graves and then kill them, I’d say that solves that. Unless we’re supposed to sympathize with him despite being an evil person to the core? Like, not to say you can’t have sympathetic villains--there are plenty great ones out there--but I’ve never considered Stryfe to be one, personally. But then again I don’t know a whole lot about him (and don’t really care to, TBH?)

While I buy X-Force getting taken down, I’d like to know just how the fuck Ahab and the hounds got captured. Like he himself may be severely busted up but you got Rachel Summers there, bitch. What the fuck are a couple of men with guns in track suits gonna do? Especially given we later see her and another hound take out all of Clan Chosen so like. Which is it?

“I am Commandant ConstantAAUUGGHHHGLGLG” --the sound Constantin would make before Rachel sends him and his men flying.

Or maybe Ahab surrendered because he wanted to trick Constantin? In 02 they say Ahab begged them to spare him, which doesn’t exactly sound like his character. I kind of felt like he was in a worse situation than this for that to happen. So now I have to imagine the whole thing as for some plan. But even if it was a plan, it was an awfully dumb and long-way-around one.

Mostly though, this issue left me wondering again why the fuck could this it and the last one’s snooze fest not have been combined into one single issue. Like I said, this isn’t a TV show trying to pad out runtime, but now it sure feels like it. The last issue easily could have been placed in a page and a half somewhere in this one.

#x force #x force vol 5 #marvel comics #x force discourse #meta #i don't even gotta tag spoilers i'm so late w this one lolololol #fit for a queue

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sprnklersplashes · 6 years

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wounds tend to linger

AO3

So this fic was born partially out of a discussion with @calibaz about if Alice ever feels anger towards her dad for leaving her alone in the tower and partially resolving some of my own issues with canon. Some of you know I have issues with WHook, but since the prompt was too interesting for me to ignore, I did my best to set aside my biases and if this comes across as bashing, I am sorry. Also I used “Rogers” as a way to differentiate from OG Killian, who also appears in this story, not as a means of bashing him.

Rogers thought all their issues were resolved with the death of Gothel and that now he and Alice could enjoy their happy ending. Turns out the past isn't easy to outrun.

The house is completely dark when Rogers returns, which is odd. He’s fallen into the routine of going out early on Saturdays before Alice is awake to do the shopping and when he returns, she is up and about with a pot of coffee brewing. Today though, the kitchen light is off and when he steps in, the house is eerily silent.

What’s more odd, in fact it is a step above odd, is that she is in the kitchen, still in her pyjamas, but instead of making coffee and singing under the kitchen lights like she always is, she’s sitting cross legged on the table with the light off. With the natural light coming in from the window, Rogers can just about see her flicking a pen between her fingers and if he strains, he can hear the muffled sobs that make his heart clench.

“Alice?” he whispers as he creeps closer. He turns the light on and she doesn’t even move; her face nearly blank, looking at something that isn’t there. He thought her bad days would be gone for good with the curse broken and Gothel gone, apparently not. “Alice what’s the matter?” When he puts his hand on her knee, he tenses, expecting her to startle, but she just lifts her head slightly to look at her.

“You’re back,” she states.

“Yes.”

“You came back,” she continues. “You came home.” All at once, it dawns on Rogers. Yes the curse might be broken and Gothel gone, but the wounds the witch made still linger and take its toll on Alice. Ever since he was cast away from her he imagined her sitting at the tower window, waiting for him to come back, and that doesn’t just disappear. So he smiles gently and cups her cheek, making her look at him.

“I came home,” he whispers. “And I will always, always come home to you.”

Contrary to what he both expected and wanted, Alice’s eyes harden, her mouth turns downwards, she shakes her head.

“No,” she tells him, the tiniest hint of venom in her voice. “Not always. Not when it really mattered.”

“Alice, what’s this about?” he asks.

“I found the storybook,” she says and gives a mad sounding laugh. “Henry’s storybook. The new one, with our story in it. And do you know what I found in it, Papa? Do you know what I read in our story?” Rogers’ throat runs dry as a million thoughts fly through his head. “I found the day you left me. Tried to get Maui’s hook to free me. Then stopped because you wanted to fight a duel. You left me alone for hours to protect your honour, your stupid reputation. Left me alone going out of my mind with worry all because someone bruised your precious ego!” The pen flies out of her hand and clatters against the wall.

Her words hit him like Ahab’s bullet did. Of all the things he’s done that he’s not proud of, this ranks high on the list.

“Alice that was years ago,” he reminds her. “Why bring up the past now, when everything is so good?”

“Because it’s not good,” she says. “Because it can’t be good when you did that. You’re not meant to do that!” She jumps off the table and steps towards him, such power in her slight frame he backs up. “You’re not meant to be the one who leaves me, you’re meant to be the one who stays! Not the one who left and never said anything to me for years and years!”

“That’s not fair,” he counters. “My heart was poisoned, Alice, what did you want me to do? I spent years looking for a cure! I couldn’t be anywhere near you!”

“I know!” she sobs. “But you could be near me. We couldn’t touch but you could be near me. You were near me so many times. You could have written to me, shouted to me, done anything to make me feel like you still cared! Instead you just sailed around the world and did everything you wanted now that I wasn’t there to tie you down!”

“Alice it wasn’t like that!”

“How do I know that?” she asks. “I never heard a word from you for years. You know after I got out of the tower, sometimes I’d wait by the ruin. Wait for days, hoping you’d show up. Hoping you at least cared enough to come back and see if I was okay but the joke’s on me isn’t it? I got out and heard about Captain Hook drinking in taverns and trying to steal another man’s wife and I thought ‘no, not my Papa. They’re talking about a different Hook’. The I read the bloody storybook and every damn word they said about you was true.” She’s close to hyperventilating, tears streaming down her face. She could end up in a full blown panic attack if this doesn’t wind down.

“Alice calm down,” he tells her.

“No I won’t calm down!” she says, sounding like a child. “Did you know that the other you has a daughter too? And he’s never made her feel like he didn’t love her or made her feel alone, so maybe I should live with him and not you!”

It’s like his heart is poisoned again. The words hang in the air between them and from the look on Alice’s face, she doesn’t regret them one bit. She wears her heart on her sleeve. She meant every word she just said.

She doesn’t say anything else. She just shakes her head at him, gasps a little bit and heads for the door. Rogers doesn’t try to stop her, partially because he’s not sure what’s going on is real. Not until he hears the door slam so loudly that he walls shake and then he wakes up and jerks into action. He races to the door and opens it, only to catch a glimpse of her coat as she runs down the street. He could of course run after her and take her back to the house and talk to her until she calms down and sees sense.

Instead he stands in the doorway, his stomach ice cold, his head reeling, and his heart broken.

*****

One of the best things about Robin is that she doesn’t ask questions when she knows she shouldn’t, rather the opposite of Alice in that regard. So when Alice appears at her door with tear tracks and her cheeks, bitten nails and lost looking eyes, Robin just nods and lets her in. She makes her tea, and a cup for herself, and they sit on the sofa together and turn on the TV and watch some singing contest that neither one of them could care less about, but it numbs Alice’s brain for a while.

Her phones makes a noise after a while and the screen lights up. As much as she doesn’t want to; she opens it to see a text from her father-‘where are you?’. Five minutes go by and other one-‘We need to talk about this.’ ‘Please come home, Alice.’ ‘Just tell me if you’re okay at least.’

She plans to ignore them all night long, but they keep coming in, some of them at five minute intervals, some in a chain of short, sharp pings until she cannot take it anymore. She opens her phone and types out her reply; ‘I’m fine, I’m with Robin, don’t come to get me. I want to be away from you for a bit’. She feels guilty, knowing how cruel her message sounds, but part of her also doesn’t care.

Robin is looking at her, not at the phone but at her, her expression concerned.

“Can I stay over?” she asks.

“Of course,” Robin answers. The other good thing is that she doesn’t have to go home to get her things; she’s stayed at Robin’s so many times that there’s her pyjamas, underwear and a toothbrush on standby in case movie nights go on too long and become movie mornings. Robin toys with one of the bracelets on her wrist.

“Papa and I had a fight,” she mumbles. Robin’s hand moves to her shoulder and rubs soft circles on it. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“In that case,” Robin says. “There’s at least three of these dumb reality shows and a day’s supply of chips in the kitchen.”

“Your version of a day’s supply or mine?” she asks. When Robin laughs, she smiles for the first time that day. She watches reality shows with Robin and eats whatever Robin makes and lets all that business go to the back of her mind. For as much as she can allow at least.

*****

Robin is still asleep when she wakes up. When Alice pushes a lock of her hair behind her ear she doesn’t even flinch. So Alice crawls her a quick note telling her where she’s going and puts it on the pillow, gets dressed and heads out the door.

She heads to the bakery and orders two coffees, one black for Robin, one cappuccino for her, and a chocolate éclair, Robin’s favourite. She’s tempted by the triple chocolate cupcakes on the display, but this is for Robin. She deserves a treat for last night.

As she waits for the barista to finish her order, the bell rings and another customer comes in, the only other one to be at the bakery this early.

“Morning, Hook,” the barista greets and Alice freezes before logic clicks in and she can breathe. In this town, her dad isn’t “Hook” or “Killian” to pretty much anyone, just “Rogers”. He doesn’t mind, it’s less confusion for everyone involved.

The Storybrooke version of her father stands at the counter with a broad but tired grin on his face and his baby girl sitting in a papoose on his chest.

“The usual?” the barista asks.

“Aye please,” he responds before he turns and sees Alice and his face grows brighter. “Morning Alice how are you?”

“Fine,” she responds, trying to keep her voice sounding as normal as possible. Hope gurgles and reaches out to her, and Alice… She isn’t made of stone. “Hello gorgeous, how are you today?” She steps forwards and lets Hope take hold of her finger in her fist before she lets it go and reaches for Alice’s necklace.

“Yeah, you might want to keep a distance,” Hook says with a laugh. “She’s in that mode where she likes all the shiny things and decides they’re hers.” He looks down at the baby, expression full of love and happiness and… Loyalty. “Aren’t you, my little magpie? You’re just a pirate like Daddy aren’t you?” He kisses her little head and rubs his nose against her hair, apparently not caring about anyone seeing him. Like he and Hope are the only two people in the bakery.

“You love Hope don’t you?” Alice asks before she can stop herself, running her fingers over Hope’s hair.

“Of course I do,” he answers, furrowing his brow in confusion.

“More than anyone else?” she asks before he can ask what’s wrong.

“Well, not more than anyone,” he admits. “She sits in her own little bubble with Emma and Henry and my brother and Milah.” Hope gurgles and takes his finger like she’s saying thank you. “But yes, I love her so much. I’d do anything for her, if that’s what you’re asking. Alice what-”

“And what if someone separated you from her?” she asks as tears prick her eyes, not sure if she wants the answer. “And you couldn’t see her, what would you do then?”

“I’d tear down every kingdom until I found her again,” he says. Alice sees realisation dawn on his face and she feels bad for dragging him into her issues. But she doesn’t stop.

“But you’d let her know you love her?” she asks. “You wouldn’t just let her think you didn’t?” She’s shaking now, her heart feels like it’s going to burst and she’s worried about throwing up in the middle of the bakery.

“Never,” he says. “Alice, is everything okay?”

Instead of just answering, Alice does what she’s been doing since yesterday. She runs. She runs out the door without her purchases and down the street until she finds some big rubbish bins she can hide behind and just breathe. She puts her head on her knees and lets herself cry miserably, wishing she’d never found that damn storybook.

“Alice?” she hears after some time, she doesn’t know how long. “Alice, love, are you okay?” She stays silent, hoping he has the sense to go away. “Alice unless the skips now where combat boots, I know that’s you.”

She decides to admit defeat and stand up and climb over the skip and sit on top of the lid. She ends up being greeted with the sight of a slightly-horrified looking Hook who still has Hope perched on his chest.

“Your father may not have his heart poisoned anymore,” he says. “But you are still liable to give him a heart attack with those antics.” Alice gives a small shrug and taps her feet against the skip. Hook raised an eyebrow and took a careful step towards her. “You’re not okay, are you love?”

“Not really,” she admits. She feels everything she’s held back since yesterday morning begin to pile up inside her. Cracks forming slowly and she knows she’ll break soon.

“I know I’m not your dad but is there anything I can do to help?” he asks. She lets the tears fall then as she loses the strength to hold it together. “Oh, sweetheart.” Hook reaches up and dries her tears for her, the exact same way her own father used to do for her.

“Papa and I had a fight,” she admits. He doesn’t react, she guesses because he doesn’t know how to, but he keeps wiping her tears and stroking her back. “How much did he tell you about me? About why he couldn’t be around me?”

“He said that a witch kept you locked in the tower, and that she poisoned his heart,” he replies softly. “So that he could never save you.”

“Did he tell you why his heart was poisoned?”

“Because she discovered him in the tower with you.” She shook her head violently, trying to clear it of all the bad thoughts inside her, trying to get them in order. “Love be careful you’ll hurt yourself.”

“He didn’t tell you the whole truth,” she sighs. “Gothel poisoned him because he fought a duel. He left me waiting for him to go fight a bloody duel!” The tears come harder, faster now, snot dribbles out of her nose and breathing gets harder. “He thought fighting was more important than me!”

“I’m sure he didn’t think that, Alice,” he whispers. “Come love, let’s get you down off this.” He takes her hand and helps her off the skip, muttering a soft ‘there we go’ when she hits the ground. “Alice, I think you might need to talk to your dad about this.”

“Why?” she asks.

“Well, I think there might be a bit more to the story,” he said. “Maybe he deserves the benefit of the doubt.” Alice shakes her head, not wanting to think that. Petty as it is, she wants to sit in her anger.

“You know he never once came back for me?” she asks. “He never even wrote me a letter until I sent him one first. He never even tried to check if I was all right he just left.”

“Alice, I’m not for a moment going to pretend that I know what your father thought all that time,” he says. “But as a Killian Jones, I do think this sounds like a classic Killian Jones mistake. Running away from your mistake because you were too ashamed to face it.”

“You think he was ashamed?” she asks. She realises that in all her anger, she never really looked at him when she confronted him.

“I do.”

“But it doesn’t change things. Doesn’t change the fact that he left me alone for years,” she reminds him and he only nods.

“I know, love, I know, but don’t you think he might deserve a second chance? Don’t you owe it to yourself?”

His words unlock something in her; she was expecting him to tell her she owes it to him. Owing it to herself is another matter and one she hasn’t considered.

“How’d you mean?” she asks.

“You love your father; don’t you owe it to yourself to try to hear him out before you shut him out completely?” he asks. “Take it from me, holding on to grudges it hard. Save it for the people who really deserve it.” That gets a giggle out of Alice at least.

“Will you come with me if I do?” she asks. He might not be her true father, but she feels close to him. And there’s also the added bonus of the fact that he’s good with words where she is less so, which might come in handy.

“Of course,” he says with a caring smile. “Let’s just get your coffee and cupcake and…” He puts a hand in the papoose, underneath Hope. “Maybe stop to change a nappy first.”

*****

And that is how Killian ends up at the doorstep of his alternate self-his daughter gurgling happy on his chest and playing with his shirt, his not-daughter picking her nails anxiously while waiting at the door.

“Be careful, love, you might hurt yourself doing that,” he says without thought. “It’s a hard habit to break.” Alice nods, but doesn’t take her eyes off the door.

When it opens, Killian sees his alternate self nearly collapse with relief at the sight of Alice. He understands even if people think he can’t yet. He remembers fretting endlessly the first few months Henry in the Enchanted Forest and even younger when he was out at parties. And then there’s Hope, who has turned his world upside down, who he’d move mountains for. She doesn’t have to go missing for him to know how he’d react.

He goes to hug her and Alice immediately steps back. His heart goes out to both of them.

His alternate self looks at him, a small hint of a smile on his lips.

“Thank you for bringing her home,” he says.

“I want to talk,” Alice tells him. “I’m ready to. But I want him to come in too.” She shrugs. “Conflict mediation.”

Rogers lets him in without resistance, even setting up a space Hope to play on the mat. Alice retrieves a rather sad but still charming looking teddy bear from her bedroom and sets it on the floor, smiling as Hope immediately becomes enchanted with it. Killian wonders if he’ll ever tire of Hope’s squeals of happiness, her near-toothless smile. He hopes he doesn’t. Alice gets up and creeps silently to the table, looking from him to her father nervously.

“Alice… I know I was wrong to duel Ahab,” he begins. “I should have come straight home to you.”

“Yes, you should have,” she says. Killian finds himself surprised at the fire in the girl known for her big smiles and bright eyes. “But that isn’t why I’m upset. Well it is but it isn’t.”

“I know,” he sighs. “I know. Look Al, the truth is-” The words get caught on his throat and to everyone’s surprise, he turns to Killian himself for guidance. Killian is confused for a brief moment, considering all the possibilities he has, before realising all he really can do. He nods. He can’t take this fight for Rogers, but he can help him get onto the field. “You’re right, I could have talked to you. It was only when you walked out the door I stupidly realised all the ways I could have spoken to you. I could have stood at the bottom of the tower and shouted. I could have left you letters. Could have asked any of my crew to come in and give you my messages. But it’s too late for all that now.”

“Why didn’t you?” she asks, her voice broken.

“I was…” He looks at Killian again, and Killian repeats the same nod, his heart pounding. He hopes against all hope he does the right thing. “I was weak. And selfish. Every day I thought about how much I missed you. I never stopped to think about you missing me. All I could think about was ending my own pain. I should have thought about easing yours.”

His admission almost makes the room lighter. Killian can see it in Rogers, how it lifts the weight off his shoulders and as for Alice… he hears her breathe.

“And I’m sorry, Starfish,” he continues, beginning to sob. “I’m sorry that I was so blinded by my pain I didn’t think about yours. I wish I had written to you or talked to you or done anything to ease your suffering.”

“Oh, Papa,” Alice says, running over and hugging him. “Thank you. Thank you.”

“Do you forgive me?”

She doesn’t speak, but she nods against his shoulder, blonde curls bouncing up and down.

Killian senses that it’s a family moment, so he makes to leave, lifting up Hope-who is rather upset at having to be separated from her new toy-and strapping her into the papoose with soothing noises and kisses on the head all while bouncing her gently, hoping to give her the sleep she so clearly needs.

“Hey,” his own voice whispers form across the room. Killian turns to see Rogers looking at him with shining eyes. The two Killian Joneses with their girls on their chests. “Thank you.”

#knightrook ff #knightrook #angst #alice jones #killian jones #wish hook #my fic #one shot #ouat #i am kind of (read: very) nervous about this fic but here we go

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spookyscullies · 6 years

Text

Moby-Dick, Milk, and The Spy

based on this post by @mulderswaterbed :

“In school, Mulder would be that tall nerd kid who has jeans a bit too short for him and sits alone at lunch because no one wants to hang out with this spooky kid whose sister went missing, until this new kid in school arrives and she sits with him because she notices he’s reading Moby Dick. Her name is Dana Scully, her dad’s a sailor and she asks him which character is his favourite.”

in short, i just couldn’t help myself. i hope you all enjoy !

(set about a year after Samantha’s abduction)

rating: G

Fox pulled some crumpled bills from his pocket and handed them to the cashier shakily. He licked his lips and dragged his hand across his too-short pale wash jeans, wiping away the clamminess. He could feel the impatience of his classmates behind him as he gathered his things: a tray of his food, a milk carton, and his book, Moby-Dick.

He read often at lunch, he was used to it. He always sat alone at a table in the corner of the cafeteria, all students avoiding contact with him. He was an outcast, a loner. He’d heard the whispers as he crossed the halls, while he was sitting in class. “Spooky”, they’d called him. It had all begun happening after his sister, Samantha, disappeared about a year ago. He had never been one to exactly fit in, but after his sister disappeared, it had only gotten worse. The strange looks he’d received and the sneers of discomfort thrown his way.

He encountered all of those phenomena as he passed his peers on his way to his regular lunch table. He tucked the thick book under his arm and carried the tray all the way to the table with no accidents. He’d learned after many of incidents and rude names he’d been called that the best way to carry your lunch and a book was to put the book under his arm. He set his tray down, then his book, propped it open, and began to read, absent-mindedly fiddling with the milk carton’s opening.

Fox was startled out of the world of Moby-Dick at the slamming of a tray across from him. He glanced up, confused, as a girl sat down. She had bright red hair, big, blue eyes, and freckles dotted all over her face. She was... pretty. Well, pretty intriguing...

“That’s my favorite book,” The girl said, nodding at it’s splayed open pages.

Fox just stared back, unsure of what to do. He was still messing with the milk carton, but she pushed his hand away, her fingers brushing against his. His hands got clammy again. She opened the milk carton with immeasurable skill, taking less than two seconds.

“Do you have a favorite character?” She inquired, sliding the milk back over to him. He eyed her suspiciously. He’d never seen this girl, this pretty... pretty intriguing girl before, and here she was, striking up conversation with the school’s most unwanted student. Surely this was a prank, surely she was a spy.

“Uh... who are you?” Fox cautiously took a sip of his milk, as if she might have laced it with something.

“Oh, right. I’m Dana Scully. I’m new here,” Her cheeks flushed with pink as she realized she had forgotten to introduce herself. She grinned, nevertheless, holding her hand out to shake his. He accepted warily, cursing himself for not wiping his hand off on his jeans beforehand.

“I’m Fox Mulder. Um, are you sure you want to sit here?”

She took a bite out of a ripe, red apple, munching thoughtfully. After swallowing, she replied, “Well, no one else was sitting here, and you obviously have good taste in books, so yes.”

“How do I know you weren’t put up to this by Jeffrey over there?” Fox discreetly pointed toward Jeffrey Spender, resident bully. “Or Alex?” He moved his finger to point at Alex Krycek, Jeffrey’s right hand man.

“I guess you don’t.” Dana answered simply with a shrug. “But if it helps you believe me, I could tell you who my favorite character in Moby-Dick is and why I like the book so much.”

Fox shook his head yes, eager to hear more from this new girl despite his misgivings.

“My father is in the Navy, so his favorite place is the sea. He read it to me when I was little. We started calling each other Ahab and Starbuck; he’s Ahab, I’m Starbuck. My dad said he considers me like Starbuck because I’m hard-headed and strong-willed, like how Starbuck is the one to object to Ahab’s motivations. It’s kind of obvious why my dad is like Ahab. He is a Navy captain, after all. So, I guess my favorite character is Starbuck because he’s so much like me.” Dana stabbed at the vegetables on her tray aimlessly, with no real intention of eating them.

“I like Ahab. He’s determined to do what he sees as just and is willing to fight for his cause.” Fox truly aspired to have that kind of tenacity. It was something to be admired.

“I won’t spoil the ending for you, but that could be where Ahab goes wrong,” Dana raised an eyebrow at Fox, vaguely hinting.

“I could see that, but I’m only about a third through the book.” Fox pulled out a bookmark decorated with alien heads on it and stuck it inside, closing the book. He liked talking to this girl, Dana. Moby-Dick could wait a while.

“So, Fox. Interesting name.” Dana rested her chin upon her hand, catching him with those cool, blue eyes.

“Honestly, I prefer that people call me Mulder, but no one ever listens.” Fox confessed, taking another sip of his milk.

“Well, if I call you Mulder, then you can call me Scully.” Dana propositioned.

“Deal, Scully.”

“Alright then, Mulder.”

Mulder smiled. She was pretty... pretty intriguing.

#msr #msr au #young!mulderandscully #txf fan fiction #msr fan fiction #scully #mulder #fox mulder #dana scully #txf

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serahsanguine · 5 years

Text

School, Sex and Subterfuge NC-17

Chapter 3 of?

part one, part Two, A03

tagging @today-in-fic @skullsmuldon

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

Chapter 3: The Start of Something new?

Three hours later Serah and Scully were sitting at a small table in their little favourite hidey-hole restaurant. The sun was setting and Scully had been silent for quite some time. In the past few hours, she had managed to call her Mom and found that Melissa was going to ring her later tonight. Now Scully sat staring into space, waiting for her Watermelon, Olive and Feta Salad to arrive.

Serah was sitting there, staring at Scully while sipping her lemonade.

“Dana, you haven’t spoken a word in 25 minutes?”

Scully turned towards Serah with a blank look on her face

“Just thinking”. She wrapped her hand around her diet coke, absent-minded.

“Are you going to take him up on it?” Serah pushed.

Neither person needed to say who they were talking about. They both knew.

“I honestly don’t know the answer to that question.” She sighed and there was a small pause before she continued talking. “If I said no, would he continue to fail me with bad grades? If I said yes, what would happen then? Would we get caught? If so. Would I get expelled? Would we have a casual sexual relationship? I have so many questions and so few answers.”

Serah stayed silent; she didn’t know how to help, she didn’t know what to say. She could physically see her friend’s mind in turmoil. The waitress soon arrived with the food and they both fell back into silence.

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

Later that night;

Serah had gone out to give Scully some privacy. Scully was laying on her bed, her back flat against her mattress, her legs crossed but straight, her mobile in her hand anxiously waiting for a call from her sister. An hour passed and she must've fallen asleep. Her phone started ringing. It only took a few rings but her mind was groggy, her eyes sleep ridden. She placed her hand near her ear.

“Hello?”

“Dana, it’s Missy”

“Uhh Missy, do you know what time it is?” Scully rolled over and looked at her alarm clock. It read at 1.50 am. She groaned to herself. Placing her other hand to her eyes, she tried to rub the sleep out of them.

“Oh, shit. Sorry Dana, I forgot. See, its 9.50 am here.” Missy sounded happy. Scully could hear the birds and traffic in the background.

“Where are you. anyway? It sounds busy”

“I’m in London! It’s so fresh here, so vibrant. Things are so different. The weather… I can’t even describe it. I love it so much, little sister.”

“I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself.” Scully sat up and looked around the room. She saw Serah’s bed was made and unslept in. I wonder where Serah went. She looked down at herself realising she had fallen asleep in yesterday’s clothes and they were rubbing against her skin. She was uncomfortable and sore.

“Dana, are you still there?”

“Humm, yeah sorry. I was lost in thought. I suppose”

“Mom said you wanted to talk to me about something” Melissa heard shuffling down the phone and wondered what her sister was up to.

“Uhh yeah. Give me a second.” Melissa heard more shuffling before she heard her sister speak again. Scully sat back down on the bed, after undressing out of her jeans and into some blue silk short and spaghetti strap top. She climbed back into bed before picking the phone back up to her sister.

“I don’t know where to start Missy. I feel like I am in a no-win situation, but saying that, I could experience some amazing benefits we could….. Oh, I don’t know.”

Missy could hear her sister rambling. “Dana, breathe. Just breathe and start from the beginning.”

“I Don’t have a beginning, I don’t have a middle, I don’t have an end.”

“Dana. You’re still not breathing. You’re rambling. Please, just take a long breath.” The other end of the line went quiet for a little bit, and she heard a deep inhale and then a deep exhale.

“Ok, Umm…. Well, there is a thing. Well, a proposition of sorts. It could go amazing, thrilling; an intense experience. A period in my life that I would never forget. But should I get caught, it could go very badly, I could get expelled or worse. And if Mom and Ahab found out, I don’t even know what would happen.” A lone tear fell down her cheek, she was tired and frustrated. She had only been at college for a little over a month and she had had enough already. All this confusion and frustration was taking a toll on her body.

“This proposition, as you put it, sounds like an amazing experience. You are so young, Dana. You need to live a little. If I did everything like Mom and Dad wanted I would not be moving around Europe or having the time of my life.”

She heard Dana starting to protest.

“But I am not like you, Missy. You are so outgoing and free.”

“Dana, you’re so passionate, so controlling over your emotions. And in life, you need to be free and to be yourself. If this ‘proposition’ is as good as you say it is, I would say go for it. Just be careful and if anything should go awry, I am here for you, to either help you with Mom or Dad or with anything else that may go wrong.”

“Thank you, Missy. I appreciate it.” Scully yawned and got comfortable.

“I’m going to go, Dana. Now get some sleep.” She listened and waited for a reply and all she heard was the soft snores of her sister down the phone. She smiled and hung up, glad to have put Dana’s mind at ease.

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

Scully woke up when the sun was just starting to peek through the curtains. It was already incredibly warm, her body ached in protest from being up so early and having had a late night. She realised she was still clutching her mobile in her hand from talking to Melissa the previous night. She was so glad she had phoned her and put her mind at ease somewhat. But she was still apprehensive about the meeting later that day.

She looked at the time and realised she would normally have gone to the gym. But she wouldn’t go today. She didn’t want to see him, not before the meeting if she could afford it till later. It would make things less awkward, or so she hopped. She got off her bed and proceeded to the bathroom, intent on having a very hot shower to get ready for today’s activities.

As the day dragged on, the more and more nervous she got. She tried concentrating on her lectures but her mind was clearly elsewhere. So, in the end, she gave up completely and went to Memorial Court. There weren’t as many people as she thought there would be. She sat there for hours, watching the wind blowing flowers. Her senses were lit with so many different smells, hearing the grass rustle and sway, and people talking almost humming in the distance. She sat there and thought about some of the day’s events.

She had met Sereh for lunch but something seemed off with her friend; the normally outgoing girl was shy and timid. She tried to push the subject but Serah shut her off completely. Instead, Serah changed the subject on to her, asking what she had talked about with her sister the previous night. Serah was happy that she had come to a decision and wanted to know all the details of it later.

The was starting to set, lighting the sky in reds, oranges and yellows, cascading in an illumination of light. Scully realised that the time had come to make her way to Mulder’s office. It was now or never. She stood up and made her way there.

About ten minutes later she had arrived outside Mulder’s office. She kept staring at the Gold Engraved nameplate hanging by the door: F. W. Mulder. She looked at it suspiciously because when he introduced himself, it certainly did not begin with an F. She looked upon his office door with its chestnut frame and mirrored frosted glass so no one could see into his office. She suspected this was for his benefit more than anyone else's. She lifted her right hand up, about to knock on the glass, but hesitated. Was she really prepared to do this? Something suddenly hit her: what if she had got this all wrong? What if he just wanted to talk about her bad grade? Before she could even think any further, the door opened on her hand still in the air.

Scully blushed and put her hand by her side. She willfully looked at the man in front of her. Starting from his shoes, working her way up his legs. The dark blue jeans hanging low on his hips. She licked her lips as her eyes worked up his chest where she saw a black T-shirt hugging his pecs and upper arms. She looked up and smiled at him, and the walked into his office.

Mulder stood there staring at Scully. She was beautiful. Her face was free of makeup, her hair down in small waves. She looked like a goddess. She smiled up at him and her eyes lit up. Those beautiful blue eyes will be the death of me, he thought. He could see every freckle and a slight red tinge on her skin from the sun. He smiled back at her and moved out the way for her to walk inside.

Scully moved into Mulder’s office and sat down on the chair in front of his desk. She was nervous and excited. She heard the door click and looked around the room. Papers were spread over his desk. And there was a board with an “I Want to believe” poster on it, as well as a couple of pictures of him, a couple of years back, and a woman next to him, with long brunette hair and matching hazel eyes. She assumed it was his sister, the resemblance was uncanny. That’s when she watched him sit on his leather chair behind his desk.

“Her name is Samantha. She’s 28 and currently living in San Francisco.”

“She’s beautiful, she looks like you.”

“Thank you she is a pain in my butt, but I love her.”

Scully smiled sheepishly at him; her palms were clammy and sweaty but she was keeping a calm façade.

“Miss Scully, do you know the reason why you are here today?”

“I am assuming it has something to do with the grade on my paper, sir.”

“Yes. you could say that. And no sir, please. Sir is my father, just call me Mulder.” He was trying desperately to stay collected. Both for her and himself, but she was staying very calm about the situation.

“I can try harder.”

“Well, what I propose is that you have some extra tutoring in my subject and see if we can get your marks higher.”

“And what would you propose, Mulder?” She was playing naive; she wanted him to say the actual words.

“I’m sure you have heard the rumours, Miss Scully.” Two can play at this game, he thought, actually quite thrilling to have someone challenge him.

“Dana, please. And yes I’, well aware of the rumours.” She smiled at him, he was being flirty with her, and she was enjoying it.

“I can confirm they are all true.” He smiled back at her. A cute boyish charm he had about himself

“What would this entail exactly?”

Mulder shovelled some papers around his desk, moving his phone which currently he was using as a paperweight. He found what he was looking for and handed her the pieces of paper.

“I have a contract here which states what would be involved. What would happen if, say, we got caught. That’s if you agreed,” he suddenly could not face her eye’s and went shy. And a small blush formed on his cheeks. “Take your time in giving me your answer,” he quickly added.

Scully could tell he was shy about asking her, and by the impression of what he had been like with former partners, he was nothing but shy. She licked her lips and smiled at the prospect of her having this effect on him. She took the paper from him and their hands touched and lingered. They both felt the spark of electricity and the unspoken bond of intimacy the raw sexual desire between them. She brought her hand back, papers in hand and rested them in her lap.

“I have one question before you go.”

“Go ahead.”

“Do you believe in the existence of extraterrestrials?” He whispered the last few words eerily but seductively.

Scully Smiled in return and answered, “Logically, I would have to say no.” Mulder nodded having expecting this answer. “Given the distances needed to travel from the far reaches of space, the energy requirements would exceed a spacecraft's capabilities th—”

“Conventional wisdom” He interrupted her, winking at her, enjoying the banter between them. And he smiled at her before getting up, walking to the door, and holding it open for her.

She followed him to the door and glanced down at his well-formed ass. He turned around suddenly and caught her in the act. A very crimson red formed on her cheeks at being caught. She walked out of the office and just before he shut the door she said:

“Professor Mulder, I'm looking forward to working with you.”

She quickly hurried down the hallway on the way to her dorm.

#mulder and scully #Dana Scully #Fox Mulder #school sex and subterfuge #new chapter #The X-Files #the x files #the xfiles #the x files fanfic #AU fanfiction #fanfiction #college au

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poeticsandaliens · 6 years

Text

In Dreams

Rating: Mature

Genre: Set post MS IV, but really an introspective fic.

Summary: The life of Dana Scully as described by her dreams. Some are smutty, some of horrifying, some are beautifully mundane. Many of them are of Mulder. This is another of my Barns-Courtney-album based fics (really, that album is inspiring), set to Golden Dandelions.

Consider this another one of my late night ramblings, as I procrastinate multiple papers. Apologies to Jess Mabe who I do not know for referencing her fic but I couldn’t help it. It was too good a chance to pass up.

Tagging @today-in-fic.

As a child, Scully dreams novels—legendary things, epics worthy of the ancient Greeks, brimming with pixie dust. She dreams a cherry tree with a different woman’s face on each blossom, a plethora of talking dragons, web-footed fey creatures that catch flies on their tongues. She dreams the looming sorcerer of her nightmares, with three fingers on each hand and a scarlet cape. The names of knights spill over her tiny lips, and when she wakes up, she’s sorry if she can’t recall them.

She hardly remembers the dreams of her adolescence. Maybe she’s too tired; maybe she can’t distinguish them from reality. Her teenage years are a blur of spiked jackets and Marlboros, making out with Larry Monsoon on the roof of her parents’ house and Missy taking credit for the condoms Ahab finds in the car. There are at least a hundred dreams of tests, more anxiety-inducing than the exams themselves. Sex dreams a plenty, probably more pleasurable than the sex she’s having at the time. Every once in awhile, a puff of mysticism, to counteract the strict diet of rebellion and heart-guarding rationality she keeps to in her waking hours.

More memorable and certainly more nagging are her dreams of Mulder. The wet dreams, the wild fantasies from their earlier days of working together. Restraining herself at work, she goes home to a ten-dollar vibrator and errant thoughts of her partner. When she dreams, it is sensual and extravagant; it is of parts of him. Taut pectorals, ripe lower lip, hazel eyes that never stop seeking. Hands before hips. Hips before hands. Once, after she watches Mission: Impossible, she dreams that he walks into their office in that red speedo, abdominals glistening, leans in to kiss her—and then whips off his Mulder-mask to reveal Assistant Director Skinner. After the Eddie van Blundht incident, she shoves that dream to the back of her mind.

However wild her sub-conscious fantasies become, they never measure up to the real thing. It’s worth noting that after they finally cave, when she smashes her mouth to his in the front seat of a shitty rental car, when they fuck in some dingy middle-of-nowhere motel, she dreams of him markedly less often. No. That’s not true. She still dreams of him, but her dreams settle comfortably in the mundane. She dreams of him popping a giant gum bubble and its pink splatter getting on her paperwork. She dreams Skinner calls them onto a case in the middle of a tropical vacation, and the hassle of catching a flight home wakes her. She dreams of facing him at the altar, wearing emerald green, and then running away before she can give her vows. She dreams that he forgives her, and they drive off into a desert sunset and live happily ever after in unwed sin. Sometimes, in the ever-changing narrative of her dream-life, Mulder dies of cancer, but sometimes it’s Scully in the coffin, watching him grieve for her and seeking the words to describe him like an omniscient narrator. She hates being the mournful storyteller more than anything.

When she’s pregnant with William, sleep is a reprieve. Going through the motions at work, she yearns to cast herself onto Mulder’s vacant couch, palm pressed against her growing son, and retreat into the world her brain creates for her. Scully has always been confident in her mind’s ability to provide what she needs to survive, so she pretends her dreams aren’t making things worse. Her dream world, once a land of magic and heroes, restricts itself to a green, loose-shingled house on the edge of an empty planet. There, the leaves are always blotted auburn and muted yellow; the wheatgrass is always dry and rustling in an autumn breeze. The dragonflies are always overgrown, swarming in clouds of violent blue and indigo, the sheen on their backs so bright she almost has to avert her eyes. A worn swing-set rocks gently in the front yard. A gangly, red-haired boy in a plaid shirt chases beetles the size of rats. Mulder is there, some nights a wise face etched into the only oak tree, dispensing loving words to his family, some nights tossing a baseball to his son, on the best nights turning dust into fireflies with a touch of his palms. Scully watches them from the rickety porch—always the porch—and marvels at the setting sun. The sun is always setting. The sun never sets.

On the run, she dreams of the fountain of youth spilling liquid gold, and Spender emerging from it with a lit cigarette between his fingers. She dreams of monsters, always monsters, babies with the black eyes of aliens and her own dry skin shedding into copper scales. She is surprised these dreams never caught her earlier, while she was neck deep in the X Files and her rational reality chipped away. Mulder’s arms sooth the assault of distorted creatures, but she still dreams of horns sprouting from William’s soft baby-skull and a dragon’s muzzle from his snout. She still sometimes imagines Mulder’s arm around her shoulders wrinkled and rotted and turned to dust in a matter of minutes, then turns in the mirror to find her own body reduced to a bonesack with a head of red hair and a cross dangling into her ribcage.

When she leaves him, it’s all sex dreams again. The wacky ones from her youth, intermixed with something more tender and mature. There’s more stroking in these fantasies, greater exploration and less hammering into the headboard. Somewhere, filed in the recesses of her brain, is a pegging dream that still makes her blush, but it’s the one where he fucks her in an empty airport Chili’s until she cries out his name that jolts her awake with an orgasm she isn’t prepared for. That’s the one that leaves her wet and aching for him, after all their time apart. She’ll never admit it, but that’s the one that makes her cry.

She stops dreaming when she sees him again. Except for one night, when a picture of their home in the dead of winter appears clearer than if she were actually seeing it. Inside, she is reading the newspaper; he is smoking a curved pipe. A deerstalker hat sits on their kitchen table. She turns to him and asks, with all sincerity, “do you mind if I practice my violin?” It doesn’t matter that she’s never played the violin in her life. It is an urgent matter. Outside, she hears the scuff of a horse and carriage in the snow. She tells him later, and he tries to convince her that no, he’s the Sherlock Holmes in their partnership more than she is, since she’s a medical doctor and keeps his feet grounded in reality. Scully calls bullshit. She is always Holmes, and Mulder will never be one hundred percent grounded in reality. It’s one of the reasons she fell in love with him.

She has a hazy summer, rosy and heavily pregnant with their daughter. The August heat is unbearable; her tank tops are too small, so she fans herself all day and in the evening lets their baby feel Virginia sunlight. Her shoulders are tan. Her belly is smooth as a skipping stone. She lies on their sky-blue adirondack chair for hours on end in a sort-of half-conscious state, listening to the hum of dragonflies. If her eyes close for a few seconds, she dreams of rivers and wildflowers. The murky Potomac, a slender brook, a roaring mountain cascade with her mother’s face etched into the current. Where she sits, facing the setting sun, fey creatures rustle in the untamed grass—little girls with freckles, Mulder’s eyes, and butterfly-wings, wearing skirts sewn of autumn leaves and carrying thumbtack swords in their hands. She dreams of weatherbeaten horses the color of ripe buckeyes galloping towards her. Fox Mulder rides to her in a suit of armor, shaggy and noble, his stubble greying but beautiful as it ever was. He takes off his gloves and presses his cheek against her rounded abdomen. He tucks a dying dandelion behind her ear. On the other horse is her son, a ranger-boy—a wiry, green-caped adolescent Jackson who hasn’t yet solidified his place in the world. Elfish ears stick up through his hair. She notices—from both their backs sprout the wings of crows, for they have died and lived to tell the tale. She embraces them.

#the x-files #txf fanfic #dana scully #fox mulder #msr fafic #babyfic #I guess #stupid midlife miracle baby #jackson van de kamp #todayinfic #i dont know if yall remember me saying i was a poetic bitch #but give me caffeine and a research paper on a deadline #and i will procrastinate and write purple prose out the wazoo

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