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adulting-sucks · 2 years ago

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Outside the Storm

This is my entry for MIssy's 3.5K follower event: You were one of my first follows on here, I am happy to have the chance to participate. @saiyanprincessswanie

Summary: Steve Rogers is the most feared mobster in the Eastern US, and you had fallen for him. What happens when the love fades and you need to escape? In walks Andy Barber-is he your savior or another nightmare?

Word count: 12,938K (Still no chill 😬)

Characters: Soft Dark Steve Rogers x Reader; Andy Barber x Reader; Jake Jensen and Reader (Platonic)

Mafia AU; Defending Jacob doesn't exist

Prompt: "No one else would get to hurt you again, you were his"

Warnings: Your media consumption is your responsibility-This story contains dark subject matter, please stay away if you cannot handle; Smut, lots and lots of Smut; Forced Anal play; angst, lots and lots if angst; Fluff

Once again, a huge shout out and thank you to @peyton-warren who kept me sane and walked me through every word. I couldn't do any of this without your support

You looked at your reflection, hardly recognizing the woman you saw, really just a shell of the person you used to be. You picked up the business card, running your fingers over the embossing on the front, turning it over to see the handwritten phone number, a number you had dialed over and over, always hanging up after the first ring.

You continued staring at your face, noticing new lines, feeling as if your youth was gone, your soul having survived a thousand lives. You stared at the name on the card, again twirling it over and over, dialing and hanging up. Until you didn’t.

“I’ll meet you tomorrow, one o’clock, the place we first met,” you said after you heard the click connecting your call. You hung up, not allowing time for a response, your heart pounding, blood rushing, your ears roaring.

You hid the card in your purse, a secret pocket only you knew about, knowing if he ever found it, you were dead. Steve Rogers was not a man you betrayed, yet with one call, you had sealed your fate, no turning back now.

You stared at your reflection, seeing nothing of the girl you were when you fell in love with the head of the largest mafia syndicate in New York, hell over all of the East Coast. That girl was dead, replaced with an older woman, one who was tired. You stood and walked over to your bed knowing sleep would elude you again.

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You weren’t sure how you were able to do it, but you managed to leave the house unnoticed and alone, something that didn’t happen too often. Steve didn’t like you being alone with so many enemies who would do anything to get to him, even hurting you.

You sat at your regular table in the corner where you could see everything yet remain unseen, blending into the area around you. You sipped your soda, your eyes continuously scanning everything. He walked in just as your eyes made it to the door, your heart thundering in your chest, hands shaking.

“Thank you for agreeing to meet with me,” Andy Barber said as he sat across from you, a gentle smile on his face. “I know the risk you’re taking, I know what I am asking of you-” he continued, pausing at your scoff and eye roll.

“Do you really, Mr, Barber? What you’re asking of me will cost me my life, not that there’s much left of it anyhow,” you retorted, sarcasm dripping from every syllable. “Look, I will hear you out, I will take every word into consideration. But if I do this, I vanish, as if I never existed, and Rogers will never find me. Those are my terms.”

Andy shook his head in agreement, willing to give you everything you asked for for intel on Steve Rogers. He had built his career on doing the right thing, fighting the bad guys, and Andrew Barber was fucking good at his job. But getting to put Steve Rogers away for life, effectively crumbling the New York crime syndicate would be life changing. Steve Rogers was ruthless and cold, yet smart.

“I understand your hesitation but I will do everything in my power to get you out alive.” Andy placed his hand on top of yours, squeezing it to reassure you. You met Andy’s gaze, trusting him almost immediately, trying to ignore the warmth of his touch.

“Okay, when do we start?” you asked, your stomach somersaulting, a feeling you hadn’t had in a long while; you liked Andrew Barber. He was handsome, devastatingly so, his blue eyes so piercing they seemed to see your very soul. You liked how soft his skin was, the way his smile reached every feature on his face, so genuine. You wondered what his lips felt like, how his hands would feel exploring every inch of your bare skin as he kissed every part of you.

“Are you okay?” Andy asked, his voice cutting through your very sinful thoughts, thoughts that had you squeezing your thighs together. “Do you think you can start now, we can record everything for the record. I have an office no one knows about, one rented under a pseudonym by the district attorney's office just for cases like this.” Andy rubbed his thumb over your knuckle, soothing your anxiety, almost as if he had known you all your life.

“Yeah, okay. But we need to go now, and I will do it all at once. Steve thinks I’m at my mother’s house for the next week; I told him she was ill. It’s the only reason I was able to slip away unnoticed.” You looked out the window, wondering if this was truly the right thing to do. You had loved Steve Rogers once, did you still?

“I know how dangerous this is, and I wouldn’t ask it of you if I didn’t think you could handle it. Your strength is quiet, but strong. And if those marks are any indication of your life, then Rogers needs to go away for good.” Andy watched you shift in your seat, self consciously adjusting your jacket.

“Make no mistake, Mr. Barber. I am not a battered woman. These marks are for everyone else, so they know who I belong to. Steve has never hit me, never once laid a hand on me. These marks are the result of his love, of his fucking me into the ground.” You held his gaze, no shame in your words at all; Steve Rogers was a damn good fuck, the best you’d had.

“Be that as it may, it doesn’t change anything. Rogers needs to go away, and you need a new life. That is what I will give you, I promise. And please, call me Andy.” He smiled gently, your hand still in his grasp, his eyes never leaving yours, never showing one ounce of judgment.

You cleared your throat, unable to hold Andy’s gaze. No man had ever looked at you the way Andy was, not even Steve. “Well, Andy, let’s get this going. The sooner it’s done, the sooner I will disappear.” You grabbed your purse, leaving a hundred dollar bill on the table. Andy stood, leading you out to his car. There was no turning back now, even if you wanted to.

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Steve’s POV

Steve pulled into the driveway happy to finally be home. He had been away for almost two weeks, and he couldn’t wait to see you. And fuck you. He had tried to sate his need with other women, but none of them could ever amount to you. You were perfect. Your hair, your skin, your pussy. He had turned you into the perfect woman, and he made sure to mark you everytime he buried his cock in you.

Steve made sure he had everything, almost forgetting the jewelry he had gotten you. The soft velvet housed a gorgeous white gold necklace and ring set, beautiful alexandrite in the center, small diamonds surrounding both in a teardrop shape. Steve knew you loved colored and rare gems, just how he saw you. Stunning and rare.

Steve still remembered the first time he saw you, standing outside of the lecture hall, laughing with the president of the most popular fraternity on campus, your hand resting on his arm. In that moment, Steve wanted to kill any man who even looked at you, and from then on, you were his. Everyone knew who Steve Rogers was, and Steve Rogers always got what he wanted.

Steve opened the door, surprised at how dark the house was, wondering where you were. You weren’t normally gone this late. He pulled his phone out, shooting a text to his head of security to see where you were as he wasn’t used to not knowing your location at all times. Hell, he’d even hired your best friend as head of his technology section. Jake Jensen was such a goofy motherfucker, he never once worried about you being alone with him.

As he waited for a response to his text, he pulled up the tracking app he had installed on your phone without your knowledge, one of the many secrets he had paid Jensen handsomely to keep confidential. He saw your phone showing at the hospital near your mother’s home, his concern and wariness growing.

He shot a text off asking if everything was okay with your mom, setting your present down, losing his tie and shirt. He made his way to his office, poured himself a bourbon as he waited for your reply. You’d never given him a reason to not trust you, but there was something about this that didn’t sit right with him.

His head of security texted back to let Steve know you’d been called away earlier by an emergency, your mom had collapsed and was found unconscious by her home health nurse. The agency had you listed as her emergency contact, calling you about her hospital admission.

Steve was considering this story when his phone rang, you on the other end. He listened as you explained the days events, the steady beep of the heart monitor playing in the background of the conversation. You told him it would be about a week before you’d be home, even with the home health nurses on duty. Steve, of course, told you not to worry about anything but your mother, that he would be here waiting, and to call him if you needed anything at all. He asked if you’d like him to join you once he returned, not revealing that he had already arrived home from his business trip. You told him it was fine and that you’d see him at home, ending with telling him you loved and missed him.

Steve hung up, alarm bells ringing in his head. He immediately called Jensen, commanding round the clock monitoring of your location and communication, to be reported directly to him. Steve poured himself another glass, staring into the fire. He wasn’t sure what would happen or what he would find, but hopefully it was just a feeling.

He drained the rest of his drink, leaving your present on his desk as he headed to his bedroom. He hadn’t slept in about a day and exhaustion was catching up to him. Steve decided to go straight to sleep, changing into flannel bottoms with no shirt, sinking directly into bed, his dreams sending him into even more concern and chaos.

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Flashback

You remembered the first time you saw Steve Rogers, his large shoulders, striking blue eyes, classically handsome looks all focused on you as if you were the only person besides him to exist. You found yourself pulled into the orbit of his space and you honestly felt you were finally where you belonged.

Steve introduced himself, his gaze never wavering from yours as you told him your name, the other man all but forgotten. You knew about Steve Rogers, everyone did, but you never thought Steve Rogers would care about someone like you.

He walked along with you, stopping to offer a ride when you realized you’d missed the last bus back to your apartment. You were hesitant, stranger danger and all, but you found yourself unable to say no, almost as if the world would shatter if you did.

The drive was comfortable, as if you two had known each other all your lives. And maybe for you, you had. Steve Rogers was everything you’d dreamed of, the man of every dream you’d ever had. Tall, nice, focused solely on you and you alone, even if you two had just met. You’d never had that in your life, always feeling invisible or unseen compared to your friends.

Steve listened as you talked about your goals, veterinary school always your dream since you could talk. You had always had a better connection with animals, humans had always managed to let you down or disappoint somehow. You had just finished your second year of your post graduate degree, your clinicals starting in a few days. You’d only been at the school to pick up your rotation for the next semester.

Steve had never been one for love or relationships; he’d learned early in life that you couldn’t trust or depend on anyone but yourself, something his father had always made sure he remembered, especially once he had started learning the business. The Family Fucking Business as the movies liked to say. Every time he watched The Godfather or Goodfellas, he always had a good laugh-nothing about his life was glamorous or pretty. Well, nothing until he met you.

He could listen to you talk all day, every minute, his life finally finding purpose outside of fortune and power. He was lost in the mellifluous sound of your voice and realized he’d missed the last five minutes of your conversation. You laughed at his confusion, finding yourself also lost in him.

He walked you up, stopping outside your door as he tried to memorize every last detail he could, not knowing when or if you would want to see him again. As you stood watching him, trying to find any reason not to say goodbye, you threw all caution to the wind, suddenly finding the courage to do something you never would have.

You stood on the tips of your toes, snaking your arms around Steve’s neck, and before you could change your mind, placed your lips on his. You felt Steve still and wondered if you’d just humiliated yourself until you felt him relax, a hand on your lower back, the other on your cheek as he leaned into the kiss, taking over.

You don’t know how long the kiss actually was, all you knew was the burning in your lungs finally forced you apart. You rested your forehead against his, both of you gulping in breaths of fresh air. Steve pulled back, his cheeks flushed as he continued stroking your cheek softly with his thumb, the trail of heat still on your skin as you allowed yourself to look at him.

You stood in silence, both too lost in each other to say a word. Steve asked for your phone number after a few minutes of being silent and still, handing over his phone as you held your hand out. You typed your number then called yourself to save Steve’s, placing one more kiss on his lips before you ran into your apartment and locked the door.

You leaned against the closed door, your heart pounding, your stomach fluttering wildly, brushing your fingers over your lips where you still felt his. You squealed in delight, scaring the kitten you’d just brought home from class after you performed an amputation on his tail caused by a deep infection which would not heal.

You picked up Nubbins, happy in a way you’d never experienced before. You were always the quiet one who was only spoken to when men were trying to hit on your friends, you were never the main character in any story. Yet, this man you’d only known for two hours had changed all of that. You heard him chuckle and wish you a good evening with the promise you would hear from him soon.

You made dinner and started going over your schedule for the next semester, your favorite movie droning on in the background when you heard your phone vibrate. You jumped, the noise scaring you for a moment as you weren’t used to anyone really texting you. Nubbins grumbled and yawned, moving to sit on the other end of your bed after you had so rudely disturbed his sleep.

You saw Steve in your banner notifications, your heart skipping a beat. He couldn’t wait any longer to talk to you, and you couldn’t be happier about not playing it cool. You texted with Steve well into the night, falling asleep past one in the morning. You knew you’d be tired for your first shift at the local shelter, your meeest clinical site, but it was completely worth it.

You woke up at six, heading to the shower first thing as per your normal morning routine. You dressed quickly, almost forgetting your phone on the way out the door. You had just locked up and finally opened your phone to check the time so you didn’t miss your bus. You heard your name as you came down the front steps, looking up to see Steve standing there with a cup of coffee.

You flushed, not used to having someone take care of you like this. Steve opened up the car door for you, making sure you were buckled in before he made his way to the drivers side. He asked for the name of the shelter, putting it in his GPS as he pulled away from the curb,

From that moment on, you never took another bus again. Steve was always there to pick you up and take you home, sending one of his most trusted men if he was working or out of town. Steve took you to dinner, to musicals, the movies, anything you wanted to do, Steve made sure you did.

The next two years continued like this, Steve being the loudest one at your graduation, your biggest cheerleader through all of it. Nubbins adored him, and you had to admit your heart melted every time you saw your large and cold man enraptured by a tiny ball of floof, finding Nubbins napping on Steve many times.

The sex was always amazing, right from the start. Steve was used to women falling all over themselves for a chance at him, even if for only one night. You, however, you didn’t. You wouldn’t sleep with him until you were sure the connection between the two of you was genuine. You weren’t playing hard to get, nor were you frothing at the mouth for a taste of him. Steve had never met anyone like you, and once he had tasted you, he was never letting you go.

The first time with Steve was straight out of one of your favorite romantic movies: slow, sweet, and incredibly sensual. You’d made your way to his house after dinner, heading in for a nightcap. As you sat and talked, you realized you were ready, you wanted to take this leap now.

You put your glass on the table grabbing Steve’s and placing it next to yours, moving onto Steve’s lap, straddling him as you started to kiss. You felt his hands move down your back, one coming to settle on your hip, the other in your hair as he held you close.

He groaned as you rolled your hips over his lap, feeling his cock harden beneath you, causing you to moan and roll your hips again, trying to find any type of friction.

Steve pulled back, pushing your hair out of your face, his hand caressing your cheek as he stared deeply, asking if you were sure that you were ready, that this is what you wanted. You nodded silently, never breaking eye contact as you felt him lift you from the couch, your legs wrapping around his waist as he carried you to his bedroom.

He kissed you deeply, moving you softly and gently to the bed, propping your head on his pillows. He kneeled between your legs, kissing you again, moving from your mouth to the shell of your ears, down your neck to the swell of your breasts.

He kissed down your stomach, his hands landing under your shirt and pushing it up, his lips following the trail of his fingers. You arched your back up to allow him to remove your shirt, so completely lost in the sensation of his touch and tongue. He removed your bra as he made his way back down your neck, his eyes locked with yours as he took one nipple in his mouth, the other in his hand.

You had never remembered being this sensitive, every lave of his tongue, every nibble of teeth, every kiss sending electric shocks up and down your body, your mind filled with nothing but Steve Rogers. He switched breasts, paying just as much attention to your other nipple, the cool air sending goosebumps down your flesh.

He kissed down your stomach, his hands moving to your pants, unbuttoning them and pushing them slowly down, making sure he kissed every inch of skin down one leg and up the other as he dropped your pants to the floor. Your hands moved onto his head, twining in his hair as he nosed your clothed pussy, your scent already intoxicating to him.

He rubbed up and down over your lace thong, fascinated with the wet patch forming from his ministrations, your grip on his hair tightening the more he teased. He finally hooked his thumbs under the waistband, all patience lost as he ripped them off easily, his mouth finding your clit immediately.

You cried out, his mouth so warm and wet against your cunt, every nerve firing off with pleasure as he sucked and licked, inserting two fingers in. You cried out again and again, the sudden fullness mixed with his suckling hurtling you over the edge, your orgasm immediate and hard.

He worked you through it, his cock straining against his pants as he watched you fall apart. You came a second time, crying out, barely registering the loss of his mouth before you felt him slowly slide his dick in, your walls grabbing on tight. He swore he had never felt a pussy this good, and from this moment on, it was only for him.

As you came back to reality, you found your hips moving in time with his, slow and steady as he fucked you, his forehead resting on yours, his eyes locked onto your face as he kept taking you apart. You opened your eyes, completely lost in the sensations your body was experiencing.

Steve hooked an arm under your right leg, allowing him to fuck you deeper and deeper, his fingers gripping your hip so tightly you knew would leave marks of the best kind. You told him not to stop, begging Steve to fuck you harder, slower, deeper again, cumming for a third time when you felt his hand drop to your already sensitive clit. You felt his rhythm stutter, his thrusts growing more sharp until he came, filling you up so completely you weren’t sure where you began and Steve ended, your bodies and souls wrapped in one sweaty shell, both trying to catch your breath.

Steve had you over and over, his appetite for you never diminishing even as the night turned to morning. He finally let you rest, your body curled around his as you fell asleep so easily. He held you as he also allowed exhaustion to take him, waking a short while later. He wanted you again but made himself let you rest as he went to make some food for you both. He didn’t have any plans for the rest of the weekend, as far as he was concerned, his only job was to fuck you over and over until you had to work on Monday. And Steve took that job very seriously indeed.

You’d never felt so beautiful, so wanted as you did when Steve was buried inside you, your taste all over his face after spending hours with his mouth in your pussy. You had tried to reciprocate his selflessness only for Steve to push you back down and make you forget your previous attempts. You wanted his dick in your mouth, his cum pouring down your throat, but that wouldn’t happen yet. At that moment, it was all about you, learning to read every moan, every gasp, every touch that made you sing.

It would be another month or so before you were able to fulfill your need to suck his cock. You were relaxing in his office, studying for your boards, Steve outside on the phone for business, and in that moment, you couldn’t help yourself. Watching him pace, yelling and frustrated, his veins were popping out of his neck, You watched him slam his phone down, your eyes drawn to the power this man exuded by simply existing.

You waited until Steve had calmed down and made his way back inside, dropping into his chair behind the desk. You poured him a glass of bourbon, setting it down in front of him, running your fingers through his hair as he hugged you. You dropped a kiss on his head, feeling him relax into you.

You couldn’t stop the need blooming through you, just the touch of his fingers creating a heat you could no longer ignore, nor did you want to. You lifted his face, peppering kisses down his cheek, over his jaw to the other side, moving from his face to his neck, licking and biting as you went.

Steve moved his head back, allowing you easier access to him as he wound his hands in your hair, tightening his grip the lower you went. You dropped to your knees, spreading his thighs to make room as you ran your hands up his legs, stopping at his belt. You looked up at him, silently waiting for approval, and so happy you’d decided to leave your hair down, your scalp tingling with each tightening grip.

Steve looked down, lust blown features over his face, twisting in ecstasy as your fingers ran over the bulge in his pants. With one nod, barely perceptible, you unfastened his belt, slipped your hands beneath the waistband of his boxer briefs, and pulled both down as Steve lifted his hips.

Your mouth watered at the sight, his cock hard and leaking. It took everything in you not to immediately shove him down your throat, but you held back, placing long licks up his shaft, stopping to suck the tip in before licking your way back down.

Each lick caused a sigh, each time you sucked just the tip, it caused him to pull your hair tighter, his hips lifting off the chair to push down your throat more. You lifted his cock, moving to suck his balls into your mouth, causing you to smile when your heard a moaned and strangled fuck leave his mouth.

You couldn’t deny how beautiful and sexy you felt in this moment, bringing this powerful man to his knees, a feeling you hadn’t felt often. You finally stopped teasing, your lips wrapping around Steve as you slowly worked your way down, taking a deep breath, starting to exhale as you worked his dick down the back of your throat, humming to relax enough to let him in and remind you to breathe.

You felt his hands tighten the more you swallowed, until you stilled, your drool running down. You looked up at Steve, waiting for him to relax. Once he stilled and his breathing was a little slower, you started to move, allowing him to fuck your throat, his taste filling your senses.

You allowed Steve to take over, his hips thrusting more and more, harder and harder as he worked towards his own end, your drool dripping down his balls onto the floor, and as you looked up at him, he swore he had never seen a more beautiful sight in his life.

You felt him start to thrust faster as his breathing quickened, moans and fucks falling freely from his mouth. You continued to let him lead, finally sated as he spilled his cum down your throat, his taste permanently seared into your memory as you swallowed it all down, waiting for Steve to release your hair before you moved.

As Steve slowly relaxed his hold on you, you made your way up, releasing his already softening cock from your mouth, making sure you swallowed every last drop. Steve grabbed you, settling you on his lap as he kissed you deeply, completely possessive as he tasted himself on you.

You should have seen the warnings then, felt the shift in Steve, but you were so in love, you missed it all. He loved you, he adored you, he worshiped you and your body. It started slowly, little marks here and there, nothing you couldn’t cover.

Eventually, it all changed. Steve marked you every time he took you, making sure everyone around knew exactly who you belonged to. He moved you into his home while you were at work, something you’d only spoken about, but hadn’t made a final decision on, and before you had a chance to discuss it with him, he showered you with gifts including a ring you’d had your eye on for a while. He made sure to fuck you so completely and thoroughly; it worked. You never broached the subject again, accepting this as your home.

Life continued on, and with each passing day, Steve’s obsession grew more and more. He wanted to know where you were every hour. He would text and if there was no immediate response, he would call. You made the mistake of not answering once while you were working; when you got home, Steve immediately took you upstairs and threw you down on the bed, tying your hands above your head.

You’d discussed exploring certain kinks, but this wasn’t about that. This was about ownership, obedience-you didn’t answer the phone, you needed to be punished, something to remind you who was in charge. That’s exactly what he did, edging you for hours, tears pouring down your face as you begged for release, your tear-filled promises music to Steve’s ears.

Once he finally let you cum, you thought that was it, but Steve wasn’t done with you. He spent the next hour making you cum over and over again, until your body went limp. You’d passed out, the last four hours too much on your body. Steve removed your restraints, and left you to grab a warm washcloth from the bathroom, cleaning you gently before gathering you to his chest. You woke up hours later, your body sore, warm from Steve’s body covering yours.

You were thrown into the dark side of this relationship, punishment becoming more frequent and painful. Steve wanted to make sure you remembered who you belonged with, belonged to, who loved you. You didn’t want to make anything worse, but sometimes your mind asked if this was actually love. And in those moments of doubt, Steve would be kind, he would be caring, he wouldn’t mark you as he fucked you.

In those moments, Steve was more of the man you fell in love with, less of the man who made you question your life with him. In those moments, he would hold you, kiss you, tell you how you had made him the luckiest man in the world. He would make love to you, show you off to people at any functions he attended.

In those moments, you were his shining light. You made him feel, something he thought he had lost the ability to do. Then he would flip a switch, the mere thought of you with someone else causing his jealousy to rise. Those moments were the worst.

Not only were you marked all over, you were fucked too hard and before you were wet, your screams of pain fueling his thrusts. He would take you any way her wanted; your pussy, your ass, your mouth and all you could do was allow him.

The longer this happened, the harder it was for you to hide your bruises, to walk without pain, making you quit your job. The more questions people asked, the more ashamed you became. Yet, in his own twisted way, you just accepted that this was what love was for Steve, therefore this is what love was for you.

You cannot remember the exact moment you decided maybe this wasn’t love, that maybe you weren’t meant to be with someone who had to make sure you and everyone around him knew who you were and who you belonged to. You became a toy, an object for him to display, to bend and mold to his will.

The first time you really learned about his work was a day unlike any other; it was the day your view of Steven Grant Rogers shifted into something irreparable. You had handed in your resignation and made your way home early, upset at losing something you had worked so hard for.

You headed to the bedroom to undress, stepping into a hot shower where you finally allowed yourself time to mourn your career. You loved animals, you loved helping them, and you had to walk away from that because Steve finally broke something inside your soul.

You dressed quickly and made your way to the kitchen. Steve wasn’t usually home this time of day, so you were looking forward to having the house to yourself for a while. You had to get every negative emotion out now or you would pay later.

You made your way to the kitchen, grabbing your favorite bottle of wine on the counter, opening the fridge to make something to eat. As you were making your sandwich, you heard a thump from the basement. Putting down your wine, you grabbed the largest knife in the butcher block as you made your way down.

You heard the thumping continue followed by groans, the noise getting louder the deeper you went. Your heart was thudding loudly, your only thought being you hope Steve wouldn’t be mad when he found your dead body.

As you rounded the corner, you stopped dead. In front of you was Steve, flushed from exertion. You watched as he punched a man restrained by chains hanging from the ceiling. You weren’t allowed downstairs ever, and now you knew why.

You watched Steve beat this man over and over, your mouth twisted in horror. This wasn’t the man you loved. This was a psychotic monster dressed to look like Steve. You watched the stranger’s blood splash with each hit, spraying all over Steve’s dress shirt, his knuckles bruised and bloodied.

You shoved your fist in your mouth to stifle your heavy breathing, willing your feet to move, to leave before you were caught, but you were frozen. The stranger looked over at you, his face swollen, but you saw him ask for your help.

You turned and ran before Steve caught you, the last sound to follow you out was screaming which ended with a gunshot. You ran upstairs and hid in the walk in closet, tears streaming down your face.

You’d always heard the rumors and whispers about the business Steve was in, but you never fully believed what anyone said. Now you knew just how naive you had truly been. You heard the door to the basement open, Steve’s voice carrying through the house as he gave directions to his right hand on removing the body.

You jumped as you heard him make his way upstairs, running to the bathroom and turning the shower on to hide yourself from Steve, and maybe also to try and wash away what you’d just witnessed. You quickly undressed and showered again, staying in for as long as you could.

You wrapped yourself in your robe, took a deep breath and opened the door to the bathroom, faking a look of surprise at seeing Steve home. He looked up at you, his clothes changed and blood free. He asked what you were doing at home, you said you had quit your job today and came home early.

As you walked to the closet to get some clothes, your heart once again thudded in your chest. You were scared it was so loud, Steve would be able to hear. You jumped when you felt Steve behind you, his hands working your robe off. You leaned back into him, afraid he would know the truth if you didn’t accept his affection.

Steve kissed your shoulders, up your neck, stopping at your ear. He whispered he knew you were lying and asked why you had been downstairs, his hand gripping your arm in a bruising grip. He grabbed your hair, pulling you to the bed as he bent you over, working his pants and boxer briefs down his legs, freeing his already hard cock.

You cried as he spit on your asshole, his cock in hand as he stroked it slowly. You begged for lube, for anything to prepare you for this invasion, but it fell on deaf ears as he pushed into you. As you felt him stretch your already abused hole, you hated the betrayal of your body, your cunt growing wet with each thrust.

Steve was relentless, fucking you slow at first, trying to allow you time to adjust before he started to fuck you deeply. You felt his hand reach around and gather your slick as he worked your clit. Your tears stained the bed, whether from pleasure or pain, you weren’t sure. You hated that he could make you feel so good while taking what he wanted with no concern for you.

He rubbed your clit harder, your orgasm rushing over you as you came all over his hand. You felt his thrusts quicken, however you weren’t able to keep track as he made you cum again and again. You finally felt him stiffen, your hole filled with his cum as he continued to fuck you through both of your orgasms, his dick softening with each twitch, your skin raw and irritated as his cum leaked out.

You sobbed quietly, long after he’d pulled out and left you limp on the bed, heading to the bathroom to clean himself off. He came back in the room, stooping down to whisper in your ear that you knew the rules. Downstairs was off limits and lying about it was why the punishment was so rough, dropping a kiss on your cheek leaving to change his clothes and head back down.

You laid on the bed, your tears soaking the sheets, unable to move, disgusted as you felt Steve’s cum leaking out of you. After what felt like hours, you finally stopped sobbing and lifted yourself off the bed, crawling on your hands and knees to the bathroom. You filled the tub with hot water, gently lowering yourself into the bath, the water stinging your sore and abused hole.

You sat in the water with your knees pulled up to your chin until the bath had turned cold and you started shivering. Only then did you stand up and wrap yourself in your fluffy robe, heading towards the closet carefully as you were still in intense pain.

You turned to look at the bed, still covered with cum, yours and Steve’s, but you couldn’t bring yourself to lay down. You opened the door, cautiously looking around for Steve, and made your way down to the guest bedroom. You laid down, covering yourself with the blanket as you started quietly sobbing once more, finally falling asleep once you’d cried all you could, which became the new normal for you.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

Present Day

As you finished up the history behind you and Steve, Andy sat quietly, his attention focused only on you. You couldn’t meet his gaze, afraid you would see pity there. Pity was the last thing you wanted, especially from a man you’d known for twelve hours.

You stood and made your way to the table where you’d set your purse down, reaching in to grab your insurance. You walked back to Andy and placed the drive in front of him.

“This is everything I have on Steve. Names, positions, wives, girlfriends, everything you need to put not only him away, but many of those around him also.”

“How were you able to compile this without him knowing?” Andy asked, impressed by your strength and courage.

“My best friend growing up is a tech genius, former special ops. He has been helping me for a while. He created a software program that feeds from all known and unknown government databases. Facial recognition, full background checks, anything that has ever been documented, dark web shit too. I would get a lot of information from the wives. Get a little wine in them and they talk a lot. I would feed this to Jake and he would gather all of the intel he had and match it with what I was told.”

Andy got up and disappeared into another room, returning with his laptop. He plugged the drive in and opened the encrypted files with the password you gave to him. As he watched everything open, he realized that this was it. This was everything he needed to take down not only Steve, but most of his payroll, some high ranking officials and politicians. What Andy was looking at was a nuclear weapon and he held the code.

You sat quietly as Andy worked, your mind wandering back to Steve. You knew this would seal your fate and you would never see him again. You weren’t sure how you felt, or how you were supposed to feel. You were relieved because you would no longer be his prisoner, yet you grieved the loss of him. There was a time you were so in love with Steve, you couldn’t wait to be his wife. Now, you couldn’t even stomach looking at him let alone him touching you.

“This is it. This is everything I need to make sure Steve never hurts you again, or anyone else for that matter. Once I do this, once I make the call and blow this up, you can never go back again. Do you understand what I’m saying? Do you still want to do this?” Andy turned and grabbed your hands, his thumb rubbing a soothing motion.

“I’m sure, but I do have some requests. I disappear immediately when you are done with me. I don’t need anything, I have a sizable amount of money stashed away. I want a new city, a new name, and I want to be able to practice again eventually, in some capacity. I can do shelter medicine, work somewhere small, I don’t care. I just want some part of my life back.”

“I can make you disappear, I will be the only person who knows where you are. My plan is to keep you hidden the entire trial, which should be quick with everything you’ve given me. After the trial is done and I’m sure Steve and everyone associated with him are gone, once I’ve done this, I will make sure to find a way for you to resume your veterinary career.”

You didn’t know why, and this was something you didn’t think you’d ever be able to do again after Steve, but you trusted Andy. You believed every word he said; you couldn’t be sure if it was because you truly did or if it was wishful thinking, but right now you couldn’t care less. Right now, he was here and he was keeping you alive.

“I have an idea for your friend. I will have to make some calls and see what can be done, but this database he’s built would be an amazing asset to our government. FBI, CIA, every branch of the military, this would change the face of national security for the better. Would he be open to something like that?”

“I would need to verify this with him the next time he checks in and updates me on Steve, but I don’t think he’d turn you down at all.” You smiled, grasping Andy’s hand tightly, your feelings bittersweet. You looked up to see Andy staring deeply at you, his face etched with worry and pride. You tried to ignore the flutter of your heart at his gaze, reminding yourself this was just another business proposition for Andy, nothing more.

“Well, I think I will try and get some sleep.” You stood, clearing your throat to cover the sudden rush of emotion in your voice. “Were your men able to get me everything I asked for?” you inquired as you moved to grab your purse. You wanted to shower, take your Ambien and sleep if possible. Insomnia had been your constant roommate the last year or so, why would tonight be any different?

“Um, yes, yeah. They put the bags in the master bedroom for you. I’ve made up the bed, there’s a bathroom in the room for you so you will have complete privacy. There’s a television and any streaming channel you could possibly want. I will make sure to have someone bring your cat to you once we’ve made the arrest.” Andy stood to guide you to the room you would call home for the next week or so.

“I don’t want to take your bedroom, please don’t let me be a bother at all. The guest room or any couch will be perfectly fine.” You followed Andy down the hall, finally agreeing to take the master suite. You walked over to the bed and started looking through all of the items and clothes that had been left. You couldn’t wait to step into a piping hot shower, letting the world fade away for just a bit.

“Well, I will leave you. If you need anything, please let me know. I will most likely be working out in the living room. There are snacks and food in the fridge, anything you want is yours.” Andy moved to stand in front of you, lifting your chin up so you would look at him. “It’s almost over, I promise. Now, try and rest, I will check in on you later.”

You thanked Andy, your skin still warm from his touch, and you could have sworn you saw something in his face, his eyes, something that made your stomach flutter and your heart pound. You shook your head telling yourself Andy could have his pick of any woman, the last thing he needed was one as broken as you.

You made your way to the bathroom stripping as you went, the bag of toiletries in your hand. The shower was hot and soothing, your back finding relief from the tension coiled there. As you stood under the hot stream, you cried. You cried for the loss of yourself, you cried for the loss of your love, you cried at the sheer relief of escape. You cried until you had nothing left.

You turned the shower off, and stepped out, so thankful Andy had the men pick up a fluffy robe. You wrapped yourself tightly and stood before the mirror, wiping the steam to look at your reflection. You applied your moisturizer, brushed your teeth, and made your way to the bed to change. You sat down and grabbed the sleep medication from your purse, taking two. It had been days since you had actually slept, and all you wanted for tonight was a chance to escape.

You laid down, your phone in hand as you scrolled through your updates from Jake. You texted from the burner phone Jake had set up for you, completely untraceable by anyone. Jake created this phone just for you and that thought had you in tears again. If it hadn’t been for Jake, you would never have been able to do this. You’d have been stuck in this endless cycle with Steve.

You responded to let Jake know what was going on, catching him up on your conversation with Andy, your requests, and how things were going to proceed. Jake begged you to be safe, letting you know he would check in with you tomorrow. You said goodnight and dropped the phone back in your purse.

You turned on the TV, and found one of your favorite movies streaming. As you leaned back against the pillows, you drifted off to sleep immediately, your meds and pure exhaustion kicking in. You hadn’t even changed your clothes, still dressed in only your robe on top of the bed, dreamless for a few hours, the only amount of rest your brain would allow.

You tossed and turned, your voice strangled as you tried to wake up, but you couldn’t out run him. Steve was all around and no matter where you turned, he was there. You tried to climb out of the darkness, but it enveloped you, blinding and suffocating you. You jumped up, gasping for air as you felt a pair of strong hands on your arms.

You screamed, thinking Steve had found you, completely forgetting where you were. Andy continued to hold you, trying to keep you from hurting yourself as you continued to blindly fight. Andy grabbed you, pulling you tightly into his embrace, holding you as you started to calm down, your tears wetting his shirt as you sobbed.

You finally calmed down enough to pull back and see the worried look on Andy’s face as he still held you, you finally relaxing into his embrace. You felt safe as Andy gently rocked you back and forth, his hand rubbing your back. Andy didn’t ask you about it and you didn’t offer any explanation, but you knew he understood where the panic had stemmed from.

You started to breathe evenly, your eyes slowly starting to close as you were lulled back to sleep by Andy. You startled awake when you felt him lay you down and cover you with the blanket. As he turned to leave the room, you grabbed his hand and pleaded with him not to leave you alone. Tonight, you needed him, not realizing that this was the exact moment your feelings started shifting towards this man and away from the one who hurt you while claiming it was love.

ANDY’S POV

Andy laid back down, staying above the covers, pulling you back to him, his arm around your waist as you quickly fell asleep again. What you didn’t know is that Andy was feeling the exact same shift in emotions, having been single for so long. Not to say Andy was a monk, but he had only accepted the physical from another person, always scared to make the emotional commitment too. All of that was different with you.

He thought you the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen, everything from your hair to your smile instantly making him an addict. He didn’t think he’d ever be able to get you alone long enough to let you know who he was and what he wanted, but he was damn sure going to try.

He learned your patterns, watching you for about two weeks, non stop. He wouldn’t let anyone else do this, he needed you to trust him. He had seen the pictures, the marks, old ones fading while new ones littered your skin. He hadn’t given you enough credit though, which is how you surprised him when you turned around and asked him why he had been following you.

Andy was so impressed, you had rendered him speechless. As he stumbled to find the words, he almost felt like he was back in high school and talking to his crush for the first time. When he finally found his voice, he handed you his card, his personal cell phone written on the back. No one outside of his job had this number, Andy always trying to keep those around him safe. And now, you were the most important thing to him, the one thing he wanted to protect and cherish for the rest of your lives.

Andy felt crazy. He didn’t believe in love at first sight, but his first look at you had sealed his fate. You accepted the card, turning to head back to your car. Andy watched you pull away, looking away only when your car was out of his line of sight. Andy didn’t think you’d call. He thought it was going to take a few more encounters.

He waited every day, still making sure to keep you under his watch, even when you were at home. He knew what he was risking, but he couldn’t let you go. You called while he watched the light in your room turn on, making himself wait before he answered the call.

You agreed to meet him, and the moment he sat down across from you, he knew this was it. He was done. You had ruined him for any other woman. He couldn’t help but grab your hand to soothe you as you started to talk, Andy hanging on every word you said. When you agreed to leave with him, well, he couldn’t remember a time in his life that he had ever felt this happy.

He had never let anyone into his home before, always worried about privacy and protection, but with you, there was no other place he wanted you to be. He listened as you recounted you life with Steve, jealous at the way you spoke about Steve in the beginning, then wanting nothing more than to murder him with his bare hands by the end.

He didn’t pity you, he knew you didn’t need nor want that from him. He admired you, your strength, something he had never witnessed before. He was impressed at your ability to compile all of the necessary information before Andy even came into the mix. You were brave, you were fearless, and this only made Andy fall for you even more.

He not only learned about Steve, he also learned about you. He learned your passions, your likes, your dislikes, he learned what made you happy and what made you angry, he learned about you, the real you; the you who you thought was dead and buried. He learned it all, committing every last detail to memory. When all of this was done and Steve was locked away, he would give you all of this and more. He would give you anything you asked for.

He had wanted to kiss you when he walked you to the bedroom. Seeing you standing there in his space, his most sacred area in all of the world, it unlocked something inside of him. He wanted to grab you and kiss you stupid, but he knew you weren’t ready for that. He made himself leave, immediately making his way to the bar for another drink. It took all of his strength not to kiss you, throw you down on the bed and taste you until you couldn’t remember your own name, let alone Steve’s. He wanted to show you how you deserved to be treated, how you were the most important thing ever to exist.

He listened as the shower turned on, and all he could think about was the hot water running down your breasts, your hand running along your body, your cunt warm and inviting. He felt his pants tighten, his thoughts only on your naked body. He imagined himself between your thighs, one thrown over his shoulder as he ate you out, your wet pussy dripping your essence down his face. He imagined your scent trapped in his beard, his fingers coated in your slick as you came over and over.

He loosened his belt, opening his pants and pulling them down enough to free his thick and hard cock, the head coated in his precum. He gathered it on his hand, grabbed his dick and slowly started to stroke his shaft, making sure to wipe the tip every time he reached the top.

He imagined you turned around your face pressed against the wall as he entered from behind, your tight and warm pussy hugging him perfectly, as if it was made only for you. He started to stroke faster and faster as he pictured himself slowly fucking you, pulling you back to kiss your neck. He pictured your hips bouncing back to meet his thrusts, your moans the only thing he ever wanted to hear again.

As he felt himself about to cum, he wondered what you looked like when you came. He saw you in his mind, breathless and lost, your orgasm completely possessing your body and soul. As he pictured you cumming, he felt himself stutter, his thrusts into his hand uneven and rushed. He imagined your cunt squeezing his dick tightly as he came, his cum covering his hand and landing on his shirt. He panted as he tried to catch his breath, his ears filled with his heartbeat, his head filled with nothing but you.

After he cleaned himself off, he changed into sweats and a hoodie, needing a distraction to keep him from making his fantasy come true. He worked for hours, completely unaware of the time as the hours passed by. The drive you had given him was a dream for any lawyer; names, dates, every transaction on a credit card, any ticket, everything right at the tips of his fingers.

When he heard you cry out, he ran to the bedroom and threw open the door. You were still asleep, but you were crying and whimpering. He grabbed your arms and shook you, trying to wake you, but nothing worked. You screamed when you finally opened your eyes, trying to free yourself from Andy with your arms and legs.

When you had finally calmed and started to sleep, he tucked you in, dropping a kiss on your forehead before turning to walk away. Andy heard you stir and saw the look on your face, causing him to make his way back to the bed. He wanted to make sure you felt safe and comfortable, so he stayed on top of the covers.

He slipped his arm around you, pulling your body back against his, you fitting as if you were always meant his embrace. He felt you drift off again, following you into slumber not long after. Andy didn’t normally sleep, usually only three to four hours a night, but with you warm and safe in his embrace, he drifted off into the best sleep he could ever remember having. He would do everything in his power to make sure this is right where you stayed.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

You woke up warm and comfortable, having slept better than you could remember. You stretched and rolled over, snuggling into the chest, startling when you realized you weren’t alone. You looked up, Andy sleeping peacefully, his arm around you. You reached out, caressing his cheek, the soft motion happening before you even realized what you were doing.

Andy stirred, clearing his throat as he brought you in closer, resting his chin on the top of your head. You let the warmth pull you under again, and for the first time, you felt completely safe and protected. You didn’t know what it was about Andy that inspired such confidence in you, but he did, and you would enjoy every minute while you could.

You woke a little later to Andy rubbing his hand up and down your arm, slowly bringing you back to reality. You stirred, stretching out your body as you felt Andy chuckle, the rumble low and deep from his chest. You looked up at him questioningly, offended you were being laughed at.

“I’m not laughing at you, put the pout away,” he said, smiling down at you. “You stretch like a cat, full body and long.” You slapped him on his chest and sat up, only just now realizing you were still dressed in your robe, which was hanging precariously open . You asked what time it was, moving out of Andy’s embrace to go use the bathroom and start your day.

Andy informed you it was a little past ten in the morning, which shocked you. You never slept past six maybe seven at the latest. Andy said he’d go get some food started to let you have some time to get ready.

As you entered the living room, your mouth watered at the smell of whatever Andy had made. Your stomach gurgled loudly, causing Andy to chuckle as he sat a plate in front of you. You took a bite, closing your eyes in pure delight as the flavors hit your tongue. You and Andy ate in quiet yet comfortable silence, you grabbing the plates once you were both done eating. Andy fought you until you compromised and allowed him to help you clean up.

As Andy sat down to do some work, you reached out to Jake to check in, needing to hear his voice and know he was safe. Jake informed you Steve had returned home early and was anxious to find out what you had been up to. Jake managed to stave him off for a while saying you were with your mother for testing that would keep you occupied for a few hours. You thanked him, promising him you were safe and would reach out to Steve soon.

Andy continued working, asking you questions over everyone in the files, and what you knew about them. You stopped about an hour later and texted Jake you were going to call Steve. Jake set the heart monitor noise in the background as you used your personal cell phone which Jake kept located at the hospital.

You gave Steve an update, making sure to keep the noise consistent as Jake helped keep the call authentic. When you disconnected, you sighed and rolled your neck and shoulders, tension immediately setting in when you talked to Steve.

Andy closed his laptop and asked what you felt like for dinner, anything you wanted. You told him your favorite food, and of course Andy knew exactly where to order it from, shocking you when he chose your favorite restaurant. You quirked an eyebrow and looked over to see Andy shrug. You had told him your favorite place during your story, and Andy made sure to remember.

You felt yourself loosen up, your mood instantly boosted at the fact that you were heard, a feeling that hadn’t happened in a very long time. While you waited for the food to arrive, Andy poured you a glass of wine, your choice being a sweet moscato while he sipped on the same.

When the food arrived, you and Andy ate, him regaling you with tales of his most humorous and memorable cases. You couldn’t remember the last time you had laughed so hard, Andy pouring more wine for you both as the night continued. You both decided to throw on a show you’d been wanting to watch forever, but you didn’t even make it through the first thirty minutes before your breath evened out as you fell asleep on his lap.

Andy looked down and made sure to cover you with the blanket across your lap as he went back to work, quietly so as not to wake you up. Whenever you moved, he stilled until you settled, keeping you covered up. His hand eventually found its way into your hair, gently playing with the loose pieces as he continued working through more files.

Andy drifted to sleep a few hours later, his head resting on the back of the couch. You woke up, waking Andy up to head to bed. Andy followed you down the hall, and as you stood outside the door, you looked at him, asking him to stay again. Andy silently followed you in, getting under the covers this time before pulling you into him again.

This became the routine for you two, sleep, eat work, spending time together, then sleep. This was your comfort zone, where you wanted to be. You weren’t sure you would ever feel safe or comfortable after Steve, but you wouldn’t shut the door to this chance if it happened.

On the last day with Andy, the end of the week you had agreed to in the beginning, you found yourself sad, disappointed that this was coming to an end, the day moving way too quickly for your taste. Andy slammed the laptop shut, leaned back and took a deep breath. This was ending way too fast for him also. You looked up to see Andy glancing down at you, your head laid across his lap as he played with your hair, your breath catching at the look on his face, a look you hadn’t seen in a long time.

Andy reached out, running his thumb over the apple of your cheek, causing you to lean into the soft and sweet touch. You leaned forward, your lips ghosting over Andy’s, your breath soft and timid. Andy leaned in, deepening the kiss as you lost yourself in his touch. As you moved to straddle his lap, Andy stopped you, his breaths short as he looked at you.

You immediately pulled away, embarrassed and ashamed at his denial. As you stood to leave, tears falling freely, you felt Andy grab you. He pulled you into his embrace, whispering that as much as he wanted this, he didn’t want to go too fast. He didn’t want to lose you, now that he’d just finally found you.

He grasped your chin, making you meet his eyes, wanting you to believe his every word. Andy meant it, he wanted to take his time with you, explore you, he wanted to love you in a way you had never been loved, but he needed to make sure you felt the same while he also needed to keep you alive.

“It isn’t that I don’t want to,” he said softly, his thumbs wiping the tears away as they fell. “I need to be able to keep you safe, to keep you alive, and I cannot do that until Steve is gone. I also need to know this is real, that your feelings are for me and aren’t just grieving a loss or fill a need. This is real for me, so real. I have never felt this way about anyone in my life.” Andy searched your face, trying to find the answers to the questions he so desperately needed.

You reached out and ran your hand along his jawline as you stood up to kiss him, every answer left behind on his lips. He kissed you again, pulling himself away leaving both of you breathless. You entered the bedroom, immediately finding home in his embrace, trying to memorize every touch, every breath before you were pulled apart.

Andy held you, both of you kissing, afraid to drift to sleep. Eventually, you both fell off into a dreamless sleep, morning coming way too fast for either of you. You packed everything up, Andy giving him men orders. After the car was packed, you and Andy stood silent as you drank each other in one last time.

“I am the only one besides my men who will know where you are.” Andy pushed stray strands of hair behind your ear as he continued. “Jake has been secured complete immunity on the condition he becomes a top tech professional for the US government, all branches. He will be set for life and will be able to contact you whenever he pleases.”

You nodded, trying to prolong this moment, still not ready to say goodbye. Andy moved to the side, opening the door to the SUV you were to leave in. Jake stepped out, his large and goofy smile on his face as he grabbed you in a tight embrace, lifting you off the ground. You cried tears of relief knowing your best friend, well actually family, was still alive.

He handed you a phone, going over all of the features as this was the last piece of technology he would be able to make for you. This phone was encrypted with only himself and Andy able to call or text. You could make calls and text of course, however Jake had made this phone completely untraceable with a new phone number spoofed every time you used it. Jake was excited to begin this new chapter, but completely scared of what time would bring. You assured him this was not the end, that Andy had made sure you’d always be able to reach him, even see him anytime you wished. As Jake said goodbye, he quietly whispered about how much he liked Andy. He approved, and that meant more to you than anything else. You watched another vehicle pull in, and squeezed Jake one last time.

As Jake was swept off to begin his new life, you turned to Andy, almost immediately seeking out his comfort. Andy helped you into the back of the vehicle, making sure you were buckled in and secure before placing a kiss on your lips, urgent and filled with sadness at having to let you go. You promised this wasn’t forever, Andy promised he would come back for you as soon as Steve was gone. Andy watched you leave, turning to head inside and start the war.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

The cottage was so small and secure, Andy’s men splitting time between guarding you and also living next door. Andy made sure to call you every day, and every day, you received something from him. A book you’d wanted to read, your favorite fruit, anything that you mentioned, Andy made sure was yours.

It had been two months of non-stop contact, Andy reassuring you he was safe. He spared you the details of the raid, only letting you know that Steve was gone. The next day, you were awakened by gentle purrs and head bumps, opening your eyes to see your favorite cat.

It would be another few weeks before you were updated again, Andy unable to text and call daily the further the trial progressed. You’d kept tabs on the news, able to watch Steve’s empire fall. You felt a sense of relief pour through you once you’d read the headline detailing Steve Rogers fall from grace, his empire blown up from the inside out.

High ranking politicians, police, business men, other mafia contacts all brought down and eliminated by one Andrew Barber. You watched the trial end, Steve found guilty on all counts. Steve would never be free again, nor would he see the light of day, his sentence relocated to a very secure underground prison meant for the most dangerous men.

You waited for Andy, ready to finally be with this man who’d allowed you to live once again. With all of Steve’s people gone, it was safe for you to come back. You looked at your phone, waiting for a call, a text, anything to let you know Andy was coming back, but it never came. Another week passed with nothing from Andy. You called Jake to catch up with him, so proud of him. He was the most important and sought after commodity to national security, and you couldn’t be happier for him.

You were about to give up on Andy, resigning yourself to the fact you had once again trusted the wrong man. You snuggled with your cat, finally allowing your tears to fall. You fell asleep snuggled up, his purrs lulling your anxiety.

You were awakened a short while later, a hand on your cheek while gentle kisses were peppered down the side of your face. You opened your eyes, immediately seeing the one person you wanted more than anyone.

“Andy,” you breathed, immediately falling into his embrace. He kissed you, needy and rushed, wanting nothing more than to be here with you in this moment. He pulled away, his forehead resting on yours as he panted.

“Hi. I came as soon as I could,” he said, twining his fingers with yours. You leaned into him, kissing him again, holding him so close. You looked around, making sure the two of you were alone. He assured you the men were away in their place, that the two of you were finally and completely alone.

Andy gently laid you back, removing his shirt before climbing up to meet your lips. You sighed as he started to kiss your neck, softly nibbling, licking, kissing as he made his way down. He stopped at your collarbones, his hands sliding up your sides as you moved to remove your tank top, offering him access to the breasts he’d dreamed about since the first moment he saw you.

He nipped your nipple, taking it in his mouth as he bit and worked it over, removing his mouth to allow the cold air to hit as he worked over your other nipple, alternating between the two before moving his kisses down your stomach, his hands grabbing your shorts, pulling them down as he went.

You leaned back as he kissed up from your ankle to the knee, ending at the top of your thigh as he moved to the other leg, making his way down from your thigh to your ankle, chuckling when you huffed in frustration, so close yet still no relief. Andy made his way back up, your hands finding his hair as he finally reached where you wanted him most.

He inhaled your scent, losing all control as he dove in, his tongue licking up and down your wet slit, your moans sweeter than he ever imagined. He moved to your clit, sucking the small bundle between his teeth as he slid two fingers into you. Andy almost came right there, your pussy more sweet and soft than he had dreamed.

He worked his fingers in and out, sucking relentlessly as he felt your cunt tighten and squeeze, knowing you were close. He rubbed his clothed cock on the bed, seeking any type of relief while he made you scream, your cries overtaking every sense. He continued suckling, over and over, your juices running down his hand as he made you cum again and again, not letting up until you pushed his head away.

He kissed his way up, stopping at your breasts again, almost making you cum again from the sensitivity as he landed at your mouth. You kissed him deeply, your taste spurring you on more and more. You flipped him over, straddling his lap, his hard cock rubbing over your already oversensitive pussy.

Andy lifted his hips, allowing you to pull his pants down, grabbing his cock, dragging the tip up and down your wet slit, causing Andy to thrust up. You positioned him at your entrance, slowly sinking down inch by inch, his cock filling you to the brim.

You started to rotate your hips, keeping his dick nestled deeply inside, the motion making him still, allowing you to take what you needed from him. This was all about you, what made you happy, what made you feel good, marveling at how beautiful you looked in this light, fucked out yet still fucking.

You leaned down, your hair covering his face as he grabbed it and pulled you closer, kissing you slowly and deeply, following your rhythm. You rode him slow, barely lifting off his cock, taking him so deep you felt him in every part of your pussy, warm and slow.

As you continued fucking him, you sped up, your head thrown back in ecstasy as you balanced your hands on his chest. You bounced harder, your hips swiveling, feeling your orgasm building higher and higher. You continued your pace, chasing your end as you felt Andy thrust up, meeting you.

You let go, your cunt gripping him tightly as you cried out, his name the only word you seemed to know. You felt him still, his hot cum shooting into you, as he kept himself buried deep, not wanting to ever leave the shelter of your pussy.

You laid down across him, panting as your heart started to return to normal, your breaths short and shallow. Andy rubbed his hand up and down your back, his hot breath in your ear. He kissed you over and over, letting you know that this is what he had wanted for you. He wanted you to feel safe with him, knowing he would never do what Steve had.

You fell into a deep sleep, his now softening cock still sheathed fully as he continued to comfort you, making sure you were resting and comfortable. This moment was more than he had ever felt he deserved, and you would never be alone again.

His phone lit up, silenced to make sure you weren’t disturbed. He opened his texts, one message popping open from an unknown number. “It’s done, everyone is asleep.” Andy sent a message acknowledging he’d received it, closing his phone, placing it to the side nightstand. You moved, moaning from the action, Andy keeping completely still.

Andy was a man of few words, but many secrets; he would tell you one day, but for now, this Andy would be all you knew, the prosecutor so in love with you, he would end the world. Andy thought back to his conversation with his most trusted man, Curtis. Curtis had been with Andy from the beginning, helping him build an empire so secret, no one knew who the actual leaders were.

Andy sat silently as he processed the news Curtis had sent. Steve was gone, never to be seen nor heard from again, along with all of his men, leaving Andy in charge, Andy who now had a direct line to Jake.

Every last person in those files had been handled, allowing Andy to silently seize control. As he looked down at you again, he felt so warm and loved. Andy wasn’t sure of much, but he was very sure of one thing: No one else would get to hurt you again, you were his.

#missys3500challenge #Mafia Steve Rogers #Andy Barber #jake jensen #Soft dark Steve Rogers #andy barber x you #andy barber x reader #andy barber and you #steve rogers au #steve rogers smut #andy barber angst #andy x reader #andy barber smut #jake jensen the losers #chris evans characters #first time mafia au #andy barber fluff #soft andy

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azems-familiar · 2 months ago

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Mimodi

did this for Seika, since they start in Ul'dah and Lelesu doesn't, haha. ~1k words, most of it under the cut for length!

The Quicksand’s evening bustle is like a heartbeat, steady and rhythmic and pulsing with Ul’dah’s lifeblood. Momodi watches it all from her place behind the bar, listening to the scattered conversations she can hear - at one table an adventuring party discusses the next job they want to pick up, at the end of the bar a lalafell thamauturge flirts with the burly roegadyn woman next to her, in the corner of the room a pair of Brass Blades are making their way through their fourth round of the night; earlier she’d overheard them mentioning Lolorito’s coin, and had filed that away for later. Whatever he’s planning, she’ll keep an eye and an ear out, and relay anything of import to Papashan - it’s always in her best interest to keep the Sultansworn apprised of whatever the Monetarists are up to, and let them decide if they want to intervene or not. Affairs of state are only her business when she picks up gossip on them.

But they’ve got a missing crown, and the Syndicate once again pushing for more power, so if Lolorito’s bribing some of the Blades…well.

The thaumaturge seems to be making some progress in her flirting - she waves Momodi over and asks for a round for the two of them on her tab, which Momodi fills with a wink - there’s some line about learning the secrets of the craft that’s terribly cheesy but makes the mercenary eye her with undisguised interest. Momodi chuckles to herself, leaning on the bar and noting the drinks down in her book, and as she glances up again she catches the sound of the front door opening over the voices.

The woman who steps in is one Momodi has never before seen in Ul’dah - she would remember an au ra adventurer, as rare a sight as that is in Eorzea. This one’s got pearlescent tan scales all across her face, arms, neck, and chest, peeking out from her sturdy brown traveling attire, and even from across the room the pale purple limbal rings in her eyes catch the lamplight and glow with it. Dark reddish-brown hair that fades to pale green frames her face and is pulled back from her head in two long tails, and she carries a sword of solid steel on her hip and a round shield on her back, walking like someone familiar with the weight of them. An adventurer, there’s no doubt about it…but there’s some indefinable quality about her that draws attention, beyond the strangeness of her horns and scales. She almost seems to glow with a light from within, something neither heard nor seen but felt.

Fairy tales and fantasy, Momodi wants to scoff, but that don’t explain the hole in her memory when she thinks of those heroes who fell at Carteneau, does it?

Conversation dies down for a moment as the newcomer weaves her way carefully between the tables, walking with a light step, then picks back up again in a flurry of furious whispering. The adventurer ignores all of it with a practiced ease, stopping in front of the bar, then hesitates a moment.

“Welcome to the Quicksand,” Momodi greets with her customary cheer, and shoos away another customer she knows is only here to gawp. “What can I get ya?”

“Wymond sent me to you,” the adventurer answers, and ah, of course he had. “I’m new to Ul’dah, and…looking for work. He said you could aid me with both of those things.”

Her voice is soft, and lilted in a way that takes Momodi a moment to place as Ishgardian, which raises a whole lot of questions she’s not so sure she needs or wants the answers to. Since the Calamity, Ishgardians don’t make their way into Eorzea unless they’ve got any other choice - some fled the snows, or poor fortune, but the majority are either disgraced, runaways, or so-called heretics…or a mix of all three. And a dragon-blooded girl raised up in that city? Poor thing.

“Well, he was right,” Momodi says, nodding with emphasis and gesturing for the girl to sit. She does, after a moment, and Momodi rummages around under the counter to bring out her Guild records, humming to herself. “I don’t just run the Quicksand - I’m in charge of the Adventurers’ Guild here in Ul’dah, and if you’re willin’ to answer some questions about what sort of work you’re lookin’ for, and your skills, I can get you on record and start makin’ connections between you and any patrons what might have a use for you. I’ll need a name for that, though, Miss…?”

She startles slightly, as if the thought hadn’t even occurred to her. Up this close, Momodi can see that her eyes are a dark indigo - lovely color, really, she’s a striking young woman. “...Seika,” she says. “Seika Valeriant - I’m an Ishgardian-trained paladin with a grasp on the fundamentals of spellwork, and an attunement to Light-aspected magic.”

Light magic? Well, isn’t that just rare…and Momodi thinks of her initial impression of Seika and wonders, even as she notes the adventurer’s name and skills down on an empty page of her log. The little customary interview and lecture on the basics of Ul’dah and adventuring go by quickly enough, and Seika pays for dinner and a drink and tucks herself onto a stool at the opposite end of the bar from the thaumaturge (who, halfway through, comes over to settle her tab with a pleased expression on her face, the mercenary standing as well and waiting for her). Momodi serves her up and settles back in for the rest of the evening, and keeps wondering all the while.

She’s been in this business for a long time, after all, and she’s got instincts aplenty from it - and looking at Seika, all she can think of is that this one is going to bring change wherever she walks. Whatever reasons have brought her to their desert rose of a city, whatever she’s running from, whatever it is about her that puts Momodi in mind of the long-lost Warriors of Light…something is coming, following along in this adventurer’s wake.

She just has to hope Ul’dah is ready for it.

#ffxiv #ffxiv fic #momodi #my writing #oc: seika valeriant #ffxiv wol #warrior of light #she/her pronouns are used for seika on purpse; they don't begin their trans journey until shb

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randomfoggytiger · 1 year ago

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The X-Files: Son of Egypt

First fic of all time (barring dabbles in my younger years off the internet that don't count.)

All credit goes to @television-overload's intriguing idea-- Samantha adopts and raises William Mulder-Scully (post here)-- with a Prince of Egypt-esque twist~.

Will Van de Kamp couldn’t remember how old he was (and couldn’t begin to take a guess now) or even what he'd said when his mother’s wistful, yearning look stopped him in the middle of a protest. “Your father said that to me, too,” she’d murmured, before quickly walking them away from the conversation. It was then he understood: Samantha Van de Kamp was his mother, Carl Andrew Van de Kamp was his brother, but the man he called “dad” was not his father.

~~~~~

He had just turned twenty-two when Will was finally allowed to join the raids.

Their base's Consortium quarters had been quiet, eagerly quiet as the Van de Kamp men represented their request. Will may have felt aged in his soul-- a cobweb weighed down with dust and filth and dead parts-- but he was young in their eyes; and against this fading generation, who had seen wars and brokered peace before their species was extinguished, Will had to prove he could handle the great risk, the heavy responsibility, the implied future work this one task would set him up for. That was easily done as he parroted back their secrets-- a young boy with a quick mind and a listening ear could learn a lot, particularly when firmly transplanted from his childhood farm into the middle of a Syndicate compound. And a boy who could turn that threat of exposure into a boon for his lords and masters was a gift to be cultivated and groomed. He was approved. In passing, a few half-remarks (“Perhaps he should have been left on the farm. To know so much of our inner workings and with so much history--”, “It was necessary. There was no other way to keep Mulder from--”) snagged at his mind, vaguely recognizing a few names and situations mentioned before; but his attention was caught by Van de Kamp’s reassuring grip and a few curious members striding over to weigh him in the balance for themselves. Later.

Later came sooner than expected.

The raid had been going smoothly. It wasn’t even a raid, Will discovered, but a routine drive-by meant to intimidate a specific helper or informant: a preening “you’re still in checkmate” boast. Elevated desperation reeked from their current victim, choking Will as thickly as Van de Kamp and Henderson’s ruthless satisfaction did. The interrogation ended badly: Henderson was knocked aside and Van de Kamp warned away from his charge by the muzzle of Henderson’s gun. Will Van de Kamp had his own weapon out and aimed at the man’s chest before he could become a hostage; but Will could not pull the trigger. The background noise faded out as both opponents faced each other, equal fear in their eyes. Then the man jerked the gun away, swiftly putting a bullet in his own skull.

Another half-remark haunted Will’s footsteps from the scene. “Can’t change a Mulder,” Henderson hissed under his breath, hand wrapped around his twisted fingers.

~~~~~

The Consortium appreciated the concept of genius but withdrew from his own. Bad blood on all sides, Will assumed; the dark, overcasting shadow of his late grandfather providing contrast to the spark of his intelligence. Eidetic memory was a negative in this den of bloated jackals, gluttoned as they were on easy power and declaring victories when they hadn't even fought wars (though against whom or what no one could point to.)

When Van de Kamp had told the family they were moving permanently on-base, everyone had assumed it was because Andrew had caught the Syndicate's attention. Cunning was prized by a group who had to lick their own wounds one too many times; and Will’s older brother had it in spades. It was ridiculously easy for him to spin anything to his advantage with everyone except Will-- the two brothers knew each other too well for those games to be ended between them in anything other than a fight, a good laugh, and another adventure. Andrew's harsher struggles trying to live up to his grandfather's legacy in the Consortium was harshly contrasted by Will's greater negligence in the name of freedom; and both brothers grew closer and further away as the group's requirements necessarily pushed and pulled at their relationship. There was love, Will knew; but suspicions this intense could only be dealt with alone.

“What’s eating at you? We all don’t take that first shot, it doesn’t mean--”

“Teach me to hack in, not get caught.”

Another tussle, another patch up, another bargain.

Will only gained fringes of information from slipping into those dangerous territories (most of the information having been kept offline since an incident in 1995, he gleaned); but two important pieces were worth the risk: former Special Agent Fox W. Mulder (recently exonerated) had continually entangled himself in Syndicate business while on a madcap search for his sister; and that sister was Samantha Mulder. Samantha Mulder, Samantha Van de Kamp.

He had to find those files.

~~~~~

It took longer than Will was willing to admit to recall where Van de Kamp stored his important documents, cds, and drives. Nocturnal adventures were not unusual for him, even with a mother who quaked with worry and a father who quietly guided him back to his room any time after 10 PM. With the tiniest flashlight he could find in one hand (being invisible was an essential skill to survive when surrounded by betrayals layered with suspicions) and a phone in the other, Will picked his way through the attic, recognizing various names or codes from his notes. Eyes growing strained in the darkness, he finally found a promising box: folder piles, papers filed together, pictures, notes… the X-Files. Or copies of them.

Will flipped around, brusquely set aside, and grabbed for stack after stack until he found his mother’s file. Although she was younger in this photo than any in the house, they still reassuringly shared the same nose (pinched at the bridge, widening out at the tip.) For a brief moment he wondered what his uncle’s nose looked like; but the word “Found” arrested his attention. Everything froze with him in shock, coming back to life only after he sputtered on a choked, belated gasp. Closed… found… 2000… died…starlight. Died.

He clutched as many files and cds as he could; then a box of them; then set everything aside, shaking, as he ruthlessly sorted between importance and paramount importance. Remaining undetected was the goal: it wouldn’t matter how much evidence he collected if he were caught.

~~~~~

Uncle Fox, Will discovered, was a fascinatingly transparent opponent to the Syndicate. He'd never hidden his motives or intentions, often defying the shaved-down FBI report regulations to get "the Truth" out-- conferences, interviews, even an odd media appearance (Cops was one of the notes he underlined.) The smaller, more humanizing details of his life were gathered through safer searches, having been expunged from the Consortium record for their unimportance. Special Agent Fox Mulder (Uncle Mulder) was always accompanied by his partner, Special Agent Dana Scully. And, fittingly he assumed, when Will saw them both for the first time it was together: his uncle’s wide smile and her serious frown captured on-site of one of their cases.

Former Special Agent Dana Scully was still being monitored by her enemies (likely a more indirect way to monitor her former partner): now a doctor at an Our Lady’s Sorrow hospital, her hair was longer and her face relatively unchanged, if the newest articles about her work were to be believed. It was a short leap from those articles to the sensationalism rags about her past, and an even shorter distance from that to tumbling into revelation after revelation: exoneration in 2008, fleeing the law with her partner in 2002… and adopting-out her son, also in 2002. William Mulder-Scully.

The thought flitted and was brushed aside; then slammed back with ringing clarity. Will scrambled for baby Mulder-Scully’s birthday and breathed a sigh: he was born in 2001. Five years too young to be himself, but a cousin nonetheless. He hoped wherever the boy was that it was far from where he was.

But “Closed… found… 2000… died.” wouldn’t leave his mind. Samantha Mulder was buried in North Carolina with a Teena Mulder; and, to Will’s shock, was briefly joined by Uncle Mulder himself for three months. The files he had on hand confirmed the public report, which left him shaken and reeling.

Closed… found.. 2000… died…. Resurrected?

And if closed, found, 2000, died, resurrected was a possibility, then there was an equal chance that born, adopted, given a new identity could be true as well.

A frantic, thorough, and looping search confirmed it: the Will Van De Kamp born to Samantha Van de Kamp existed only after William Mulder-Scully was adopted out. Thinking back, Will couldn’t personally prove his existence after his alleged birth in 1996. The life they lived had never allowed for natural curiosity or too many questions with silence so easily bought and paid for. Until now, he assumed “the work” was dangerous and fearfully weighty, something to be talked of obliquely or not at all. Now he wondered what sort of kingdom he and Andrew were being raised for.

~~~~~

Clones and hybrids and tortured children and harvested women and broken men.

That was their empire.

His mother, a tool of the Project. Carted out against her knowledge and against her will for her father’s (her creator's) means and goals, paraded before a brother she thought she had and married to a man that may or may not know she was inhuman. A string of children lost and born and dead before Andrew survived to carry on her creator's legacy. Complicit in the lie of Will's birth and parentage.

His brother, a tool of the Project. Elevated as its prince, honed to a weapon, and all-but-in-writing handed the keys of the Conspiracy. Immune before immunity was no longer required. Cunningly grasping for that power and for Will, unable to keep both but refusing to lax his grip all the same.

The Project: fruitless lies upon lies that saved no one, having merely benefitted from two opposing alien factions’ war and stalemate. Bullies left with too much aimless power and ashes at their feet.

Will knew he needed to leave. Soon. Immediately.

~~~~~

Andrew was furious Will was leaving without warning and almost without a goodbye. Their ensuing fight was left unresolved-- perhaps forever-- with the punctuating slam and screech of an angry driver venting his pain on the road. Will wondered if his family was doomed to be continually torn apart; and if Andrew would ever start or never stop looking for him.

His mother, Samantha, simply stared, silent tears marking the many years she'd chosen ignorance over truth. A soft then more desperate hug said everything for her; and she quietly slipped into the backroom, giving him time to grab what he needed and leave.

Van de Kamp barged in before Will left, breathless with pain. He, too, was silent; and he, too, allowed his son to leave.

Will knew all three wouldn’t betray him; but how much of that was motivated by love, loyalty, or a twisted sense of duty he couldn’t say.

~~~~~

Doctor Dana Scully was easy to locate but harder to follow, the Consortium’s search for him making it nearly impossible at first. Her frown was still serious and her hair was still long, but her spark was gone. He could only watch this new mother from afar, drifting in her wake-- hungry as she ate, parched as she drank, exhausted as she slept. He couldn’t approach her, the bereft ache in his last mother’s eyes always on his mind, foiling his best attempts to forget. Perhaps former Special Agent Dana Scully and he were not meant to be, or perhaps meeting her in person would turn her from a figment into flesh. Until he could be certain, he waited.

Former Special Agent Fox Mulder was nowhere to be found.

It was a week before Dana Scully led the way to her second home, a ramshackle abandoned house in the sticks. Will knew about this property, even came to scout it out once; but it looked dead from the road, and he’d hurried back to his previous task. By now, he should have learned that appearances are deceiving.

He left his car in the woods, slinking up the porch easily by crouching under the tall grass. The house was still dead-- no hum from the power, no creaking of the pipes, and no shuffling from the steps inside. Half remarks, easy to recognize from a lifetime of training, trickled outside; and Will inched closer to catch them.

Dana Scully’s voice-- harder to hear from where Will was positioned-- was softer than he’d imagined, especially when contrasted with the solemn expression that settled perpetually on her face. “...out here… this house… alone.”

“Well, you know me, Scully,” Special Agent Fox Mulder’s (Uncle Fox, Mulder, Father's) voice rang out, falsely cheerful. “You predicted how this’d go years ago.”

Will caught a mournful murmur.

“‘Catatonic schizophrenia’, I believe you called it.”

“Mulder.” He heard that loud and clear: no nonsense endearment. Amused and trying not to be.

“Though I think our story ended better than theirs. Though not by much.”

Although Dana Scully’s (Scully's) heels clicked close, Will could tell she was only drawing closer to Agent Mulder (Mulder.) There was a long, deep silence, a few deep reassuring breaths, and what sounded like affectionate ruffling.

“You’ll find your way back, Mulder. I believe that.”

Retreating from this intimate moment between two sad, broken people, Will felt fifteen years old for the first time in his false twenty-two.

~~~~~

Will didn’t leave Mulder’s house. He spent the next week or two losing track of time in the rhythm of Mulder’s world: quiet except for the wind moving through the trees, the grass, or slamming up against the lifeless windows. Food was easy to forget when he subsisted on various nonperishables; and the hours were whittled away plowing through various copies of unredacted files. Low profile didn’t seem to have existed in Mulder and Scully’s orbit, with more and more press and eyewitness accounts to corroborate or validate the various outlandish claims they’d both signed their names to.

It also gave him time to think. Losing his family was concrete and understandable even if it was gut-wrenching and grueling. But to have stripped him of his identity, of so large a factor as his age, was as baffling as it was appalling. Will had lived through each milestone, had graduated, had taken other secondary education classes and courses; and now he was left to second-guess everything he thought he knew. Tutelage tempered with lies under the Syndicate could mean anything: how effectively was he taught? Did he even graduate? Likely not, since a fifteen year old brain could not fit the knowledge required for a twenty-two year old collegiate. Had the Consortium fallen so far that they were sloughing off a piecemeal education on their next generation, not caring if they learned so much as they obeyed? If so, the whole structure would collapse within a generation; but then, what structure did they have left to uphold? The selfish men who bought and sold for power were dying out, and the next generation might be willing to take what they could from the scraps. But then why--

And underneath all of those thoughts was the one Will was trying to isolate from but kept finding over and over in the files, typed up plainly in Dana Scully’s neat sentences: “...if it’s only by knowing where he’s been that he can hope to understand where he’s going, then I fear Agent Mulder may lose his course; and the truths he’s seeking from his childhood will continue to evade him, driving him more dangerously forward in impossible pursuit.”

~~~~~

Mulder stepped out of the treeline, gun in hand.

Will realized, as he stared at this man chiseled by regrets and promises, that he had been disappointed in his father a week or more ago. He’d wanted to respect him, had even thought he loved him in a way; but had still withdrawn from the concreteness of his father's weakness, just as his father had. The Mulder standing before him was every inch the former Special Agent Fox Mulder he'd read about: danger in his stance, fire and fairness in his eyes. He’d never met Fox Mulder, but Will was glad to have him back.

Mulder stopped his string of succinct commands when his eyes fell on the files, breath catching as he looked erratically from one copy to the next before flying back up to Will’s face. There was fear in his eyes-- good fear, alive fear-- and his words caught a few times before he asked, “William?”

Fox Mulder, Mulder. Dana Scully, Scully. Will Van de Kamp, William Mulder-Scully. He could live with that.

There wasn't anything to say, so William did what Samantha Mulder had taught him, letting his smile say everything for him. Mulder's face split into the exact same, wide-open beam: he, too, had taught William in his absence. And William knew-- he just knew-- that Scully had passed on her ability to read the layers of emotions dancing across his father's neutral expression. And he could live with that, too.

William watched his father's smile slip as he swallowed back crashing emotions. "I tried looking for you, years ago. When you were a baby. And later, when...." Mulder paused, miserable in his failures.

There was only one thing left to say. "You did."

~~~~~

Acknowledgements: Thank you to @television-overload for coming up with the original idea and for naming Will's older brother. ;)))

Thank you to @ghostbustermelanieking and @o6666666 for creating short, beautiful AU fics that ultimately helped me flesh out the format for this one.

Thank you (in no particular order) @baronessblixen, @welsharcher, @agent-troi, @dd-is-my-guiltypleasure, @suitablyaggrieved, @pianogirlxf, @samucabd, @herdingcats12, @cecilysass, @amplifyme, @slippinmickeys, @enigmaticdrblockhead, @annablume, @spidey-is-tired, @two-microscopes, @spidey-is-tired, @mariaann, @chavisory, @medicaldoctordana, @ibringyouasong89, @cyb3rpeach, @mindibindi, @two-birds-alone-together, @invidiosa, @jessahmewren, @living-in-unreality, @mollybecameanengineer, @tossingmyglossymane, @demon-fetal-harvest, @settle-down-frohike, @storybycorey, @thescullyphile, @scullys-scalpel, @perpetually-weirdening, @teenie-xf, @captainsugarcane, @frogsmulder, @paperheartsarts, @unremarkablehouse, @cutemothman, @my-spookybunnies, @lindz-dude, @sonictacocat, @freckleslikestars, @kiivitaja, @today-in-fic and more for always being willing to engage with my work (and enjoying when I engage in yours.)

Thank you to every single one of the fic writers out there. Your work nudged me gently along to this point; and without your leaps I wouldn't be making these steps.

And thank you to each and everyone of my mutuals and lurkers-- keep on keepin' on~!

Thank you for reading~

Enjoy!

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justalittletomato · 8 months ago

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Okay the rain is keeping my up and I got a soft maul and starlight thought.

Maul returning to mandalore from missions with savage and the other mandalorians or syndicate groups. Starlight waiting and greeting Maul back. Her welcome backs changing to welcome home. A few times he’s come back covered in what she thought was his blood. The worry in her eyes. Maul brushing her off. He didn’t need her to fuss or coddle him.

Eventually as they get closer, maul allows her to check regarding injury. Letting her hands roam over him. She’s gentle. The balm in her hands rubbing a bruise. To soothe the ache. He stopped rolling his eyes at the gesture, to starlight this was not coddling. She cared for him. Genuinely worried and cared for him. And for Maul? He was out of his depth to fully accept it. Hesitant to.

He envied Savage, who so “willingly” let Angel leap at him when they disembarked the ship. The Gardner immediately rushing past to see him.

Starlight waited by the hanger. Cautious.

Does she envy them? Does she tire of having to toe around Maul?

“Welcome home.” She greets, eyes looking to the bruise blooming on his face. He leans in and she brushes his cheek.

“What fate found the one who did that?”

“My saber.”

“Good.” A nod, “ I have some balm, this one will fade well.” The touch was permitted. Maybe perhaps one day…he wouldn’t have to lean in it would just happen. Perhaps…

#maul #maul x reader #maul x starlight

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bucketwritingpail · 1 year ago

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Wip Wednesday anyone?

Danny joins the Blood Syndicate au pt.1

Cw: lying about ages, recruiting minors (gangs)

--------

"I don't think we should be recruiting kids, Wise."

"I'm not a kid," Danny stated defiantly, tilting his chin up and puffing out his chest in what he hoped looked like an intimidating stance.

The ghost guy didn't look impressed, crossing his arms as he asked, "And how old are you then?"

"I'm-" shit. Fuck. He couldn't say fifteen, they'd definitely kick him out for that. What could he pass for then? "Eighteen?" He hated how much it sounded like a question but it was worth a shot. " I'm eighteen," he said, projecting as much confidence as he could muster into his voice this time.

The ghost raised an eyebrow. "You wanna try again with a more accurate number?" There were a few snickers from the group and Danny felt himself deflate a little.

"I'm seventeen in june," he muttered bitterly. Still a lie but probably more passable. It was only a year.

"You know what? You're in," Wise said with a wide sweeping gesture, he held out his hand for Danny to shake.

"That's still a kid, Wise."

"And I'm your fucking leader, Fade. What I say goes. Besides, I was a year younger when I first joined, and I know the lot of you were too. We take in Bang babies who need a place to go. That's the policy."

Fade looked like he wanted to protest further, but swallowed it instead and sighed. "Fine," he ground out.

"Good," Wise Son said, jutting out his chin with an air of finality before turning back to Danny. "Now, kid-" Fade coughed. "That we've settled the possibility of you sticking around," he continued, ignoring the rather unsubtle remains of objection, "You've got to understand what you're getting into. Capiche?"

Danny nodded.

"Y'see, we've got a rule here. You can only join up with us if you can beat us all in a fight. You still wanna try out?"

Danny took a quick look around at everyone and nodded again.

Masquerade stepped forward with an amused expression. "You sure about that, runt?"

Danny stared him straight in the eyes and nodded again. Then, with his own amused lilt to his voice, "I am one hundred percent confident I could beat you all without breaking a sweat."

The gang members all shared a look.

"Alright then," Wise said.

#bucket writes things #dp x dc #dp x dc crossover #fic #wip wednesday #blood syndicate #danny joins the blood syndicate au

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thebucketpail · 1 year ago

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Fade blushing at Rollie <3

#Fade blood syndicate #Tech 9 blood syndicate #Fade #Tech 9 #blood syndicate #milestone comics #i knew it #Fade's got a cruuuush #i love it but at the same time i know something bad might happen #oof

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all-eyes-lead-to-the-truth · 9 months ago

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All Eyes Lead to the Truth (4x14) | Memento Mori

They are referred to as alien-human hybrids. While scientifically correct, they don’t consider the title to be phenomenologically accurate. They are bound in this corporeal form, but possess no superhuman capabilities or powers to signify alien origin.

Down to the most minute cell, they are Kurt Crawford. They are the little boy who held his mother’s hand as they were taken from the El Rico Air Force Base in 1973. They are the innovation of men who weren’t satisfied with God’s plan and decided to make their own.

His existence is similar to a violinist who can play the second movement of Tchaichovsky’s Violin Concerto without missing a note, but who failed to imbue emotion into the song — the audience can recognize the tune, hum along to the melody, but they know deep down that there’s something not quite right.

Perhaps it’s because they were not of woman borne. There was never a mother to nurture them, only the replicas of other missing people. They never experienced what it was like to grow up or figure out their place in the world — they knew their mission the moment electricity lit up their synapses.

At least Dr. Frankenstein could see his creation was a crime against nature; even Mary Shelley couldn’t conjure the horror of a monster masquerading as a man. Perhaps the fact that the alien-human hybrids looked like the Syndicate’s loved ones is their punishment for defying the laws of science.

Regardless, the Crawfords’ pragmatism began to fade alongside the health of all the women who suffered just so they could exist. He knew some of the other series didn’t feel the same. The others thought this intervention in evolution was the key to a better world without considering who they would be making it better for.

Why bother with the betterment of humanity if there were no humans left?

John Locke always said that humans enter the world with a tabula rasa, that a person’s environment nurtures who they are to become. Jean-Jacques Rousseau contended that humans enter the world with a predestined morality, that people are innately good without interference.

But what about them? What is destined for a creature borne of fluid and test tubes, guided by the hands of cruel men?

But then again, it would be an insult to claim innocence in the grand scheme. The Gregor Series may have been evil when they cloned the DNA of defenseless children, but the Crawford Series was still using the genetic material harvested from the same project they sought to destroy. The ova from the MUFON women were an integral part in piecing together the genetic puzzle of who they were, but it didn’t make it any easier whenever they saw the women begin to deteriorate.

The list was getting longer by the day; Edna Cooper, Lottie Holloway, Betsy Hagopian, Penny Northern, soon to be —

“Scully.”

Kurt bowed his head and tried to pretend that their voices didn’t echo around the tiny apartment. For all the bravado Agent Scully was feigning, Agent Mulder matched her with unconcealed fear. This was one of the facets of humanity that made him feel alien. She was dying, and they were fighting. Earlier she had even said she was “fine” while blood poured out of her nose.

He saw death every day. Maybe not first hand, but every file referenced, every lead followed, and every medical chart the Crawfords looked at was laden with it. It seemed to him that wherever death tread, grief and despair were close behind. The losses of the MUFON group didn’t merely extend to the women who died, but the families left behind.

All of the Kurt Crawfords believed that was uniquely human: the desire to live one’s life in the company of others, to bond with others and care for each other. They wanted to believe their desires to protect the MUFON women was evidence that their existence meant something more. They wanted to exist outside the confines of what the Syndicate had planned for them.

But the Agents standing in front of him whispering with trembling breaths went against all he’d learned about human relationships. There were no hugs of reassurance or words of comfort, yet their gazes held an intimate yearning for each other that reached a depth Kurt couldn’t fathom.

Even as the woman rushed out of the apartment, sparing a sideways glance in the hallway mirror to check for dried blood, Agent Mulder’s eyes never left her. The moment the door shut, the man’s entire body seemed to deflate, his head bowing down as his shoulders curved inward. Agent Mulder raised his hand to his mouth and rubbed the short hairs growing across his skin.

Agent Mulder looked like he might vomit or start crying at a moment's notice, and it struck Kurt that maybe what he was witnessing was one of the most important elements of being human he hadn’t experienced yet.

Love.

Kurt couldn’t help but think it looked painful, but maybe that was the laws of equivalent exchange at work. He supposed someone could only feel such intense despair and profound loss because they’d known joy and contentment.

“How soon-“ Agent Mulder started, pausing to take a measured breath. “Do you know how long ago Penny found out about her cancer?”

“Within the past year,” Kurt replied, hoping the Agent would accept this answer so that he wouldn’t have to admit it had only been a couple of months.

The answer was grim nonetheless and they both knew it. Kurt could see Mulder tying to could every grain in the proverbial hourglass Scully had left, and he knew it would be a matter of time before he was crushed under the weight of the spent sand.

“Did Betsy have any files on Scully at her place?”

Kurt knew she didn’t, not really, but he could tell Mulder needed to feel like there was something he could do to help her. So Kurt did the most human thing of all.

“I think she did.”

Read the rest of All Eyes Lead to the Truth on Archive of Our Own!

@gaycrouton

#all eyes lead to the truth #x files #fanfic #x files fanfic #kurt crawford #memento mori #4x14 #cancer arc #mulder #scully #msr

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paullovescomics · 3 months ago

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Finished reading the first series of Blood Syndicate. On a cover like this, the team looks like so many others from the 1990s: lots of attitude, a guy with guns, a really big person hulking in the back, and one with a full face mask. But the team does operate quite differently. The premise is the most striking out of all the Milestone comics. A group of gang members gain superpowers during the Big Bang*, and they band together to form a new gang and maybe bring some order to their home on Paris Island.

While many in the Blood Syndicate do want to make things better, overall, the group's tactics and motivations often live in a moral grey area. Yes, they bust up crack houses to rid their town of that drug, but they also keep the money for themselves. Maybe they spend some of it early on to help the community (I don't clearly remember, I took a while to read all 35 issues), but at least in the second half of the series, they don't. This is a big part of what makes the series interesting. We see them do things that make sense to them, even while we the audience know it's going to turn out badly. These are people who didn't expect to ever have anything really good in their lives, so how will they imagine their superpowers will help them now? How we grow up shapes which possibilities we can see.

As with all of the great superhero teams of the 80s and 90s, interpersonal drama drives a lot of their actions. The soap opera approach to superheroes was still very much in effect here. I personally like that, and I'd like to think that's not only due to nostalgia. I think it does give the audience more to emotionally engage with. It also encourages writers to find subplots for each character, and involve them in more than just fights.

The cast of Blood Syndicate is pretty big. There are like 14 members of the group across the series, and it's not unusual for 12 or 13 to be active at any given time. This means that not everyone gets the same amount of development. By the end, I felt like I had a much better grip on the characters of Fade, Brickhouse, Masquerade and Kwai than any of the others.

The relationship between Brickhouse and Third Rail would be a huge hit among a lot of fans today.

The next old-school Milestone series I plan to read is Icon. Reading the series individually does make the crossover stories a little confusing, but thankfully there aren't many of those.

*The Big Bang is the event which gave many of Milestone's heroes and villains their powers.

#milestone comics #comics #comic books #blood syndicate #superhero #superhero team #comics in the 90s

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ink-sinner · 2 years ago

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the end

— zoya x f!chief

genre : angst, hurt / comfort

warnings : spoilers / allusions to chapter 6

wordcount : 1,363

summary : she has long wished for the end to come.

“is it . . . over yet?” within the winding roads that lead to nowhere, she stumbles towards the end. here, everything is grey. grey ashfall. grey asphalt. her wounds bleed grey, and the distant wails scream grey. it did not have a beginning, and it will never have an end; one day, it was peaceful. (like an urban fantasy, you know, the kind they told around a fire and the kind she could only hear from far away while she bit her tongue and swallowed back her saliva, pretending it was good enough to sate her hunger because if it wasn’t she would get beaten up —) and then, and then. and then it became the syndicate. syndicate, the kind of name you chewed and spit out vehemently like spoiled food, and watch the ants gather like dust. syndicate, you say it with a cruel callousness, or with a cold indifference, vindictive, like oh, that syndicate. good for nothing. hell. the place abandoned by god. syndicate, she looks up, and blinks through the glass shrapnel dug beneath her eye. “is it over yet?” another fire. burnt hands pillage the old warehouse, and find the creaking wood like jewelries in the trash. it’s something. it’s something. it can be sold for something, and distantly, zoya hears their screams fade into the roar of the flames. she thinks she hears someone familiar, but she can’t be sure anymore. here, everything is grey. but the fire isn’t grey. it blooms red, and consumes everything in its path. “will it ever be over?” (“ha, just you see. one day, it will –“ liar.) because it did not have a beginning, and it will never have an end. this kind of chaos can only exist. that’s right. that’s right. only fools can have so tragic a death that they die believing in a dream. she closes his eyes, and leaves him in the only thing that is not grey in this place. it consumes everything in its path. “is it over yet?” she is a lot like fire, she muses. it hungers like her blood, the rush of adrenaline through her veins, buzzing like anger, or something more deeply-seated. absolute loathing. rage. the searing urge to burn everything in her path, set it ablaze, and purify this filth with fire. “this place has no future,” she tells the roaring flames. it dances under the harsh sunlight and her empty gaze. it is not grey, but the smoke is, and maybe it’s the mania, maybe she is just tired or maybe she has completely finally snapped but there’s something funny about this. there is no escaping the grey of the syndicate. it is in her skin, in her blood, the smoke that follows the destruction of the fire. “if there is, i can’t see it.” her eulogy, consumed by the flames. “is it over yet?” her ears are buzzing. she can’t hear anything over the pounding of her heart in her head. “is it over yet?” and she tastes like rust and she tastes like blood. it has become a constant, this lingering sense of heaviness. you could tear her apart and pick apart the pieces of the woman named zoya, and all you would find is the grey of the syndicate, and all the blood she has ever spilled. “is it over yet?” if you tear apart the woman named zoya, it would be a miracle if you could find anything but the unending emptiness and violence within. “is it over yet?” “is it over yet?” “is it?” “is it over yet?” (“who are you asking?” a backward glance, and she almost sees the child that she was. like a flitting mirage, because violence like this does not have a beginning but it will soon end. was she ever a child? “. . . no one in particular.”) (there is no answer to her question.) no. that’s not right. there will be an end. she will make sure of it, and when she is done, there will be no one left to give an answer to. (that’s – – laughably sad.) but it will be over, soon. she will end it all with her own hands, and she will end herself with her own hands, too. she, who was born from this depravity and embodied the violence and chaos that permeated the grey skies of the syndicate. (some days, she can’t wait for it to be over just so she can be over too but of course she never says that.) (it’s just tiring, sometimes, but of course she never says that. there is still a long way to go before this violence can end.) except – except – “it’s over now.” and then she is held by a pair of warm hands, a flitting heartbeat ringing strongly against her ear. like the eye of a storm, she arrives, and the raging storms hush into a bright, sunny day. “zoya.” and briefly, she wonders what she has ever done to have her name said like that, so soft and tender, like the warm caress of a summer breeze. she tries to remember if she has ever heard it like this, but the memory is faint, and the name ‘zoya’ has only ever induced fear or admiration, anyway. always distant, mired grey like the syndicate. that’s the name of a thug, a gangster, a good-for-nothing criminal with no past and future, only bloodshed. but there are arms around her shoulders, holding her close, and she thinks she recognizes these thin, frail arms. she is . . . surprisingly soft. “it’s over.” her head dips to rest against zoya’s shoulder, and they lean against each other like a castle of cards. the slightest hint of wind could topple them over easily and blow them away forever. her shivered breath touches her collar. “zoya, thank you for coming back to me.” her memory fractures like glass. the pieces lay scattered on the ground, but her body remembers the razing pain like muscle memory. no. no. it’s not over yet. there’s still one final battle to fight. and then, and then. “shh,” and there are hands on her cheeks, and they are so very warm. “it’s over now, zoya. you don’t have to fight anymore.” over? it’s over now? no. no. that’s not right. it’s not over yet. it’s not over until she’s dead, too, rotting within the depths of this land she bloodied herself. it’s not over until she’s dead and can’t taint the bright future she dreams of anymore. she tries to push her away (like all she’s ever known), struggle (like all she’s ever done), reject the gentle warmth of her embrace (like all she’s ever had) because it’s not over yet she’s still here she’s not supposed to be here why is she still – but she is so tired that she can barely muster the strength to open her eyes. “zoya,” she says again. her voice trembles in the smoky air, and in the distance, she can hear the low groan of corruptors, gunfire, the screams that permeated the syndicate streets. it’s all the same, everywhere, the same old chaos, the same old senseless human depravity. the grey mire of the syndicate paints her blood dry, until it is the very air she breathes, the violence pumping through her veins instead of blood. it’s not over. it’s not over. but she is so tired that she can barely muster the strength to open her eyes. “rest for now, zoya,” she says. she can hear the footsteps of her sinners stumbling towards them, the fight with corruptors below, but her hands are on her hair, nails gently scraping her scalp, and it reminds zoya of a distant childhood memory like a fantasy long gone. it’s comforting. for the first time, she falls asleep to warmth.

#path to nowhere #ptn #zoya #zoya x reader

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gabby-msr · 2 years ago

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Is Mulder’s Quest Selfish or Selfless? Both? Neither?

Disclaimer: I love Mulder and Scully with all my heart, equally. This isn’t a post to dunk on one of them. It’s common to see Mulder blaming himself in fanfiction for everything wrong that happens to Scully and while, yes, I get it, the question of Mulder being selfish VS selfless has been bouncing in my brain for a while. This is my attempt at putting my thoughts on paper.

Mulder (and eventually Scully’s) quest is a costly one. It lasts for very many years and doesn’t exactly yield the expected returns. For this reason, a common interpretation of The X-Files is that there are terrible consequences to Mulder’s quest and they aren’t exactly “worth it.” It isn’t a far-fetched idea because Scully has to remind Mulder THREE times over the course of the whole run that she wouldn’t change a day. Furthermore, one person can love the X-Files and also recognize that Scully’s life didn’t really get better for joining the X-Files - a lot of things were taken from her.

But is Mulder to blame? This very determined man is alone (with Scully) fighting a nebulous evil that is actively harming people. I think we ought to look closer at what Mulder and Scully’s missions are, their repercussions, but also whether their fight is a worthy one.

The Good Fight: Aliens and Men in Black

“Nothing else matters to me, and this is as close as I've ever gotten to it.”

- Fox Mulder, Pilot.

In the very first episode, Mulder opens up to Scully about his goal in life. It is not sprung upon her later in the series. From the get-go, we know that Mulder thinks that:

Extraterrestrials are responsible for his sister’s disappearance;

The US government is covering it up for some reason;

Proving this and finding Samantha are the only things that matter to him.

Over the course of the series, his focus changes somewhat.

In seasons 2-3-4, he finds out about how women disappear, is returned with a chip in their neck, dies of cancer, and are left barren. He finds out because all of it happens to Scully and he is IRATE. In season 2, after her abduction, Mulder is out for blood to avenge Scully. At the same time, he feels guilty about her abduction, saying that he should’ve told her about the danger, that she didn’t know.

Meanwhile, in seasons 4 and 5, Samantha fades somewhat, and Scully becomes more important. He wants to hold accountable those who are responsible for the abduction and killing of women, as well as the medical rape of these women. There’s nothing negative to say about this. It appears to me to be an objectively good thing.

In the later years, after finding out what happened to Samantha, Mulder appears a little lost and less convinced by his quest. By Requiem, he wants to send Scully home from Bellefleur, saying that the cause isn’t worth it. That she should go home and carry on with her life, have children. Why he “decides” to get on the ship remains a mystery to me, although a point could be made that once he was in the forest, he wasn’t a willing participant.

In season 8, Mulder leaving the FBI appears, to me, as indicative that he’s kind of done. Whereas he would have fought tooth-and-nail to get the X-Files back, this time, he leaves of his own volition. Not only that, but this time, Scully is the one who has trouble letting go.

Mulder reminding Scully that Dogget is a big boy and that she has to care of “the little boy” melts my shipper heart.

I wish the show had explored Mulder’s return more thoroughly in season 8 because he is still involved, but I get the impression that he has more to lose.

In season 9 and onwards, Mulder seems uber-focused on the end of the world in 2012. While we don’t get a good explanation for why Mulder and Scully broke up, this could be a reasonable explanation.

In the revival eras, Mulder appears to me as someone who isn’t as blinded by his quest as he used to be. Having lost Scully has probably shifted his priorities somehow.

A Closer Look at the Syndicate: Was Mulder doing Good?

“CIGARETTE-SMOKING MAN: I’m in the game because I believe what I’m doing is right.

MULDER: Right? Who are you to decide what’s right?

CIGARETTE-SMOKING MAN: Who are you?”

- The X-Files, One Breath, Season 2, Episode 8

So the X-Files world is doomed. Alien colonization is inevitable and would result in the extermination of humanity as we know it. Fortunately for us, a group of forward-thinking men in black, a type of shadow government, has decided to do something about it! Only this guy Mulder jeopardizes it all by threatening to expose them!

Umm... not quite.

A few times during the show, people tell Mulder that he is in the wrong for what he is doing, which begs the question: in the grand scheme of things, is Mulder doing something wrong? Is he threatening the very existence of humanity?

- In Deep Throat, after being returned from the military base where his brain was wiped:

“I just wanna say, everything you've seen here is equal to the protection we give it. It's you who have acted inappropriately.”

- The quote above from the Cigarette-Smoking Man, in One Breath.

- In the episode Max, when Mulder is on a plane with a man who threatens to take it down:

MULDER: I'm sure all the other passengers on this plane would appreciate dying for your noble philosophy.

SCOTT GARRETT: Look out your window, Agent Mulder. You see the lights? Now, imagine if one of those lights flickered off. You'd hardly notice, hadn’t you? A dozen... two dozen lights extinguished. Is it worth sacrificing the future, the lives of millions, to keep a few lights on?

My understanding of the mythology is the following: The aliens will invade by infecting everybody with the Black Oil, and warned the Syndicate about it in 1973. They struck a deal whereby the Syndicate attempts to create alien-human hybrids. In exchange, the Syndicate members have to give up a member of their family to the aliens as collateral (in the Mulder family, that’s Samantha).

The Syndicate’s dilemma reminds me of the trolley problem in philosophy. However, in this case, it could be summarized as follows: Samantha dies, or, without Syndicate intervention, everybody, including Samantha, dies.

So in the end, the Syndicate was only trying to save humanity?

That’s debatable, and the means they used were absolutely ruthless and inhumane. Everybody was disposable. Abducting people like Max Fenig and Duane Barry, repeatedly, and causing them extreme pain and distress appeared to me to be absolutely despicable. Likewise, abducting women, stealing their ova, creating babies with them, and leaving them barren and dying of cancer were also terrible. Furthermore, Samantha’s journals attest that she was tortured during the years between her abduction and her “death.”

From my point of view, Mulder and Scully were the only people who took them seriously, who gave them some hope.

At the end of the day, the Syndicate was looking to protect themselves more than humanity. And they hurt a lot of people along the way.

Mulder Fucks up Big Time

We cannot discuss whether what Mulder is doing is good without taking into account the times he FUCKED UP.

During the show, there are a few instances where Mulder is blinded by his quest. The most egregious example is from Paper Hearts, when he endangers the life of a little girl because he thinks there is a chance he might find out what happened to Samantha. Anybody else would have been sacked after this but this is the X-Files here.

One of his flaws is his impulsiveness.

“Mulder, don’t get on the train.”

Mulder is somewhat aware of the dangers of his expeditions. One such example is when he goes to Arctica in season 2.

It’s a famous Scully ditch. In the end, Scully swoops in and saves the day, but Mulder didn’t intend it that way. He’d left her a letter explaining what he was doing:

“ Scully, when you get this message, I will be too far away for you to stop me, but where I'm going I cannot allow you to follow. I won't let you jeopardize your life and your career for reasons purely personal to me. You were right, Scully... you said a line has to be drawn somewhere. I'm drawing it for you here. I'll contact you when I can.”

- Fox Mulder, End Game, Season 2 episode 17.

So he’s aware of the risks, especially in season 2, after her abduction. That doesn’t stop him from ditching her and needing her rescue, but he can acknowledge that a situation is dangerous and try to limit the damage to only himself. Given their bond, Scully rescues him, which could endanger her as well.

The Cases in Between: The Flukeman, Vampires and Frankenstein

And then there are the actual X-Files. What Mulder and Scully’s job should be. Between mytharc cases, Agents Mulder and Scully travel the USA to investigate the most outlandish claims. Sometimes their help is requested, but at others, they arrive at the scene of the crime and are treated like a nuisance. The entire X-Files policing universe, from the FBI to the average small-town sheriff, is rather hostile to Mulder and Scully’s unexpected methods, though as it often turns out, their contribution solves the case.

Exhibit 1: Squeeze/Tooms

In Squeeze, Scully’s help is requested by an old academy “friend” to solve a most bizarre string of murders. Mulder is drawn into the case too, although his ideas are not well received. Mulder is fought every step of the way and refused a surveillance details many times, only for Scully to be attacked. In this case, without Mulder and Scully acting like watchdogs, Eugene Victor Tooms would most likely be returning to the Baltimore area in 2023 to kill five more people.

Exhibit 2: Quagmire

This case turns out to be rather simple, and Mulder is also wrong in the end (or is he)? Regardless, the town sheriff they have to work with refuses to recognize there is an issue with the lake. His take on the multiple deaths occurring around the lake can essentially be summarized as people being drunk dumbasses around lakes. Even though Mulder turns out to be wrong about what is causing the deaths, he and Scully put a stop to it, and the lake is presumed to be safe again (though we never know on the X-Files).

These are only two examples of Mulder and Scully making their world a safer place. They barge in and are most often not welcomed, and yet, they end up saving people. If I were a victim of some type of monster, Mulder and Scully would be the ones I want investigating what happened. In a world of skeptics, Mulder shines.

Repercussions: Deaths, losses, and sacrifices.

I will probably forget people/things. Apologies in advance.

Being in the close circle of Fox Mulder and Dana Scully has a huge disadvantage: a very high death rate. The following deaths can be attributed to the cause:

Melissa Scully and Agent Pendrell: the very definition of “wrong place at the wrong time.” Both their deaths are tragic and feel gratuitous.

Fox Mulder’s dad: While his death is due to his decision to try and help Mulder for once in his life, it could be argued that he was the reason the Mulder family was on the path it was on in the first place. His involvement in the Syndicate was the reason for Samantha’s disappearance.

Emily: her very existence was a tragedy, and so was her death. She was created by evil people who never intended her to live.

Honourable mention: Queequeg.

Beyond death, Mulder and Scully sacrificed a lot of things to continue working on their quests:

Their lives: from the viewer’s point of view, it appears as though Mulder and Scully have nothing else going on in their lives other than the X-Files. While we can’t possibly know, especially considering we see very little of their personal lives, we know that neither Mulder nor Scully is “progressing” in their lives. Both are single without prospects despite looking really hot and their careers are at a standstill with “little to show for it.”

Mulder seems especially eager to dedicate his life on the X-Files, Samantha, and exposing evil people who abduct people and make them suffer. On the other hand, Scully questions her role on the X-File and their mission more than once. She even tries to appeal to Mulder to lead a normal life - a foreign concept for Mulder.

Whereas Scully is seen having a little bit of a life in the first season - her friend Ellen, going on a date with a boring guy - in the later seasons, it’s Mulder and Scully VS. the universe.

Scully progressively withdraws from her family: in season 5, we can see how the quest is taking Scully away from the family. She’s there with her family, except that she isn’t, not really. Her job is causing a rift between her and older brother, and even her mother doesn’t seem to understand her at times;

Scully’s ability to have children: considering how her ova stolen during her abduction, Scully was robbed of the possibility for children. It is a very sad discovery for her, one she has a hard time coping with;

Their BABY: due to their involvement in their mission, the safest option for William is for Scully to give him up. Repeating just to make sure we remember: SHE HAS TO GIVE UP THEIR MIRACLE BABY, THE ONE WE NEVER THOUGHT SHE COULD HAVE;

So..?

With that in mind, is Mulder and Scully’s quest worth it? Is it selfish or selfless? This post is going all over the place, trying to argue different things. At the end of the day, here are a few conclusions I can come with:

- As far as the average X-File goes, Mulder and Scully are the people you want working your case. They will not give up, and they will most likely the only people in the whole world to be compassionate and understanding. They have put a stop to many monsters who would go on killing people. Their work on the X-File is not in vain;

- As far as the mytharc goes, their mission is a noble endeavour. They are the only ones looking and trying to figure out why people like Max Fenig or Scully are disappearing and suffering. There is SOMETHING there. Alas, they are fighting something that is a lot bigger than just them, and their mission comes at a great personal cost. Beyond that, it hurts other people and the quest can blind Mulder in a way that endangers other people.

I don’t have a concrete conclusion beyond this and would love to discuss this further.

All the pictures used are taken from the wonderful screencaps website: https://www.xfilesarchive.com/index.html Shout out to the owner, who really puts in a lot of time!

#xfile #mulder and scully #thexfiles

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