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xdacted · 7 months

Text

The wind chimes we hear

Paring: Charles Leclerc x Sister! Reader

Warnings: fluff, family fluff, family angst, family feels

Word Count: 2,760

Status: Completed (part of a mini-series)

* A Request*

There was the green field, littered with dandelions and daisies swaying in the wind. Sunlight drenched the stems, rolling over the grass, kissing my skin. The twinkle of our grandmother’s windchimes, clinking together. The scent of the sea, the taste of salt dancing high above the air.

I could hear my brothers laughing, pushing each other, shoving the other into the dirt. The sound of our mother scolding them, my father’s bellowing laughter. They called my name, pulling at my hands. They didn’t understand why I was so small, why I couldn't run like them.

I didn’t get it either.

They call my name again.

It sounds fainter.

The sun goes cold, and the grass stops dancing. My father’s face distorts, fading into nothingness.

“Ma’am?”

There’s a hand on my shoulder, gently pushing me. My eyes blink open.

There’s a woman smiling down at me, her red lips showing a dazzling set of pearly white teeth, “We’ll be landing soon.”

I nod, trying to suppress the yawn that grows in my chest. My headphones have slipped to my temple, and with a groan, I push them back. The cabin light is far too bright, I pull my hood further over my head.

What a strange dream.

We spent the entire summer with my grandmother. We ran around her spacious backyard, and we loved it. Sitting around her stained glass table, staring up at the colors as they shimmered in the light of morning. We were kids then.

The city is nothing more than a spec outside the window. Surrounded by the glimmering sea, clouds making it seem impossibly far. Home.

__________

Catching a car was more difficult than I expected. Normally, my mother was more than happy to pick me up - or she would’ve sent one of my brothers - but we were all coming in at different times. I didn’t want to burden her.

Summer break was a glorious time. I always managed to snag a few days free of practice, I would always dread going back, but I would never sacrifice it for anything. My brothers were always happy to be home, hiding out at our mother’s house before telling anyone they were home.

Our lives pulled us in different directions, but we always found our way home when Monaco came calling. I looked out onto the streets, cars buzzing past, and people bustling on the streets. This country bore us, we loved it. We would always come back.

The car ride is short and before I know it, I’m standing at the steps of our home. The door swings open before I can knock, my brothers staring back down at me, pulling me into the waiting house.

They wrap me in a hug, their arms tight around me. I breathe them in. The house around us seems to breathe with me. With all four of us between its walls, I feel the anxiety in my stomach uncoil. I hadn’t realized how much I missed them. Emotion is tight in my throat but I force it down.

I would never hear the end of it if I cried.

“Little Miss Champion,” Lorenzo brings a hand down on my hair, ruffling it.

I whine, pushing his hand away, “Lo! My hair…”

He chuckles, “I’m so sorry.”

He doesn’t sound sorry at all. I smile. This easy batter has been missing, we’ve been missing. Being here with them feels like coming back to myself. I can hear the windchimes again.

“Good flight?” I nod, sliding my backpack from my shoulders, but Arthur is already taking it from me.

I don’t bother protesting, following them into the house. Charles pulls my suitcase behind him, parking it at the threshold of the kitchen. They let me walk in first, and when I do, my mother is standing there.

I nearly crushed her in a hug, burying my face into her blonde hair. She presses a kiss to the side of my face, brushing my hair back, “What is this love, hm?”

I can’t help the laughter that leaves me. She smells like honey and lavender, her hair soft against my temples. I don’t ever want to break away. Her hands soothe down my back, tucking themselves under my hoodie.

“I missed you,” I whisper.

It’s faint enough to die in the air, but she lets out a little giggle.

“I missed you too, my beautiful girl.”

I curl tighter around her.

Being away hurts. It hurt to know that she was here alone, in this empty house. It hurt to hear the excitement in her voice when I called. It hurt to have her hold me knowing I’ll leave in a few days.

“Mum -”

“I love you so much,” She beats me to it. She pulls away from me, her warm smile making my heart full.

“That’s not fair,” I nearly whine.

She just shrugs, but the smile never leaves her.

“Alright! Enough already,” Arthur claps his hands on my back, “We’re hungry!”

“Yeah,” Charles says, sliding his arm around Mum’s shoulders, “You took forever.”

I roll my eyes and pinch at Arthur’s sides, “Shut your face.”

__________

Dinner is an easy affair.

I don’t bother asking where Carla, Charlotte, or Alex are. The first day is always just for us.

“So what regiment have they got you on now?”

Lorenzo gestures to my plate, it’s mostly green. I promised my trainer I’d take it easy, but with my mother’s cooking, a promise meant nothing. I shrug.

“Nothing,” He snorts, “I mean it!”

“So why no pasta?” Arthur stuffs another forkful into his mouth, our mother scolding him under her breath.

“Planes always mess with my appetite,” I reach for the pitcher of water, “Tomorrow I’ll eat more.”

The conversation is plain, but it’s wonderful. To just be here with them, talking about nothing. We laugh and joke, the house seems to burn with energy. Soon, the food is gone and we race from the table.

Mum captures Lorenzo as he tries to sneak past her, she pulls him to do the dishes with her.

“What a loser,” Arthur mutters, plopping down on the couch. He goes to reach for the remote, but I snatch it first.

“Hey!”

I wave him away, “You’ve been here all day. I just got here.”

“Exactly,” He doesn’t make another move to it, leaning his face into the palm of his hand, elbow propped on the arm of the couch, “It’s only respectable.”

“I know you’re not talking about ‘respectable’.”

I lose myself in surfing the channels, clicking through news broadcasts and show reruns. There’s never anything good at this time, but I always look anyway. A cartoon’s theme song rings through the house and I let out a small laugh.

As children, we would all pile into the kitchen and watch it before school. It would run right when our mother would coral us to the door, tugging on Arthur because he always wanted to see it end.

I’m lost in my thoughts when Charles’ voice rings out.

“Who’s that?”

Charles and Arthur leaned over my phone, tapping at the screen. I hadn’t even noticed Arthur moving. It lights up to the picture of me and my boyfriend. My arm slung around his shoulders, pulling him down for a kiss.

Shit.

“No one -”

Before I can snatch it back, they’re pulling it away from me. There’s a look on Aruthur's face, eyebrows pulled into a tight furrow. I can feel the anxiety coil in my stomach. I wasn’t ashamed, I just wasn’t ready.

“No one?” Charles frowns at me, eyes darting to the phone in his hand, “This? This is no one?”

My face grew hot. Why did it always have to be this way?

Arthur scratched the side of his face, “Really? Who is this guy?”

“No one,” I sigh.

I reach for my phone again, but Charles jumps back. He tucks the phone into his pocket, holding a hand up to my chest. I let out a groan.

“Charles, please -”

“If he is ‘no one’,” I can already hear the question, I roll my eyes, “Why not tell us who he is?”

“Because I am a grown woman with my own business,” I thank the heavens I decided to leave him in France, “Now, give me my phone.”

“Tell us who he is.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

I almost screamed. My face is red, and I can feel the tears prick in my eyes. It was always like this.

I can see Lorenzo enter the room out of the corner of my eye. He takes in my state - arms crossed over my chest, cheeks red, pinched expression - and lets out a bark of laughter.

“What’s wrong with you?”

“Nothing,” I say quickly, his eyebrows shooting up to his hairline, holding his hands out in defense.

“Hey! I haven’t done anything.”

The apology is on my lips, but Charles and Arthur beat me to it.

“She has some secret boyfriend,” They flash my phone at him. I am mortified.

“A secret boyfriend?” He steps closer to the phone, and he moves closer to the screen, eyes squinting as he inspects my boyfriend's face. He makes a look of disgust.

“Really?”

This wasn’t fair. They were judging someone they hadn't even met. I have never, ever, judged one of their girlfriends. The many that passed by, I have never once held any hatred towards them. But they hated my boyfriend simply because he loved me.

It was so stupid.

“Why this guy?” Lorenzo turns to me, Charles and Arthur voicing their agreement, “Really? You shouldn’t be -”

“I am not a baby!” I can feel the tears, my voice going thick with emotion, “I am a grown woman. I can live my own life. I don’t know who you think I am, but I’m not five years old anymore!”

They stare at me, mouths agape. As soon as my words leave me I want to take them back. I can see the regret crawl across Charles’ face, but I can’t take it. I snatch my phone from his hand and run out of the room.

I hear them call my name, and even feel as Lorenzo tries to grab my arm, but I push him away.

I stomp upstairs, slamming the door behind me.

__________

When I stop, my lungs burn. I’m wheezing out into the air. My heart is thundering within my chest. I can feel the embarrassment pool in my gut.

It didn’t matter how many trophies or world titles I won. It would never matter. They only saw me as their little sister. I had been in their shadows for years, watching as they stepped into the light. The world loved them, the world adored them.

Couldn’t I have this one thing?

Couldn’t I have someone to love me?

I pick at the hem of my shirt. I’m being selfish. They didn’t mean anything by it, it was just careless teasing. But to me - I dared to look at my phone, my boyfriend's beautiful smile staring back at me - it wasn’t careless. I bite on my lip, pulling at the skin.

My room is just as it always was. The walls are littered with pictures, posters lining the sides of my bed. I filled it to the brim, you could hardly see the wallpaper beneath. On my dresser, there are the trinkets I left behind. Seashells and paddock passes. I can feel the emotion welling in my throat again.

This was more than just the teasing.

I push my back into the door. On the other side, I can hear my brother’s voice. They’re arguing, scolding one another, blaming the other for my outburst. But it wasn’t their fault.

So much was changing, we were growing and it frightened me. I side down the frame, pulling my knees into my chest. The tears come before I can stop them. I really was a baby.

I moved out two years ago. I wasn't far, but I wasn’t home. Charles moved out ages ago, and Lorenzo before him. Our leaving wasn’t new, but that didn’t change how strange it was. At first, it felt wrong. I threw myself into training, hours with my coach, and hours distracting myself. There was a reason I only came home a few times a year. It was always hard to leave.

Summer break was always my only exception. I stayed and it hurt.

I always wondered if they felt like this, but I never had the nerve to ask. I was afraid they’d laugh in my face, afraid they would call me a kid. Being away seemed so easy for them, racing across the world. Different cities, different countries, different time zones.

It didn’t look difficult for them at all.

Meanwhile, I cried at my first international competition. It was only for three days, but I called home every night.

I rest my chin on my knees, blowing out a sigh.

My tears have subsided into sniffles. The ridiculousness makes my face burn again. I can almost laugh, but before I can push myself off the floor I hear their footsteps come up the stairs. They try to speak in hushed whispers, but I can hear everything anyway.

“Move, this is your fault!”

“Mine?! You made her upset!”

“Shut up, both of you!”

I almost laugh, covering my mouth just in time to stifle it. I can hear them stop at my door. There’s a long moment of silence, I can feel their hesitation. I look up at the doorknob, the dying sunlight spilling in through my blinds.

There’s a tentative knock. I say nothing.

Charles calls my name.

I say nothing.

It’s evil, but it makes me crack a smile.

Another knock rings through the room, louder this time, “Stop being mad at us…”

I can hear Charles and Lorenzo smack Arthur on the head.

“OW!”

“You’re so stupid.”

Lorenzo tries this time, but his voice is soft, “We’re sorry. We didn’t mean to make you upset, will you open the door?”

I rise to my feet but just stare at the door.

“Please?”

With a roll of my eyes, I turn it open. It reveals the apologetic look on their faces.

“We’re sorry,” They say, nearly in unison. I can’t help but laugh.

When we were kids and got into fights our father made us apologize together, we’d have to redo it if we weren’t.

“I’m sorry,” Arthur starts, looking up at me, fiddling with his hands, “We shouldn’t have looked at your phone.”

To his right, Charles nods, “It was wrong, and I’m sorry.”

I look at Lorenzo.

“What?” He holds his hands up, “I didn’t really do anything wrong -”

Charles jabs him in the ribs.

“Ah! I’m - I’m sorry,” He muttered, brown hair falling into his eyes as he doubled over, “I’m sorry.”

“I meant it,” My arms are tight, gripping onto my sweater, “I’m not a kid anymore.”

“We know,” Lorenzo pulled himself upright, “We know. It’s just…you’re our baby sister.”

“No one is ever going to be good enough for you.”

“Ok,” I mutter, “But he doesn't have to be good enough in your eyes. He’s my boyfriend. He’s good enough for me.”

They seem to think. The silence that passes over us is heavy, I can almost see the wheels turning.

Arthur is the first to speak, “Does he make you happy?”

I can’t help the shock that makes its way onto my face, “Yeah…he does.”

He shrugs, “Then that’s all I care about.”

I crack a smile, reaching over to grab his hand. He interlaces our fingers, giving me a quick squeeze. I can feel the unsaid, ‘I love you.’

Charles doesn’t say anything, he just moves forward, wrapping his arms around me, “I want you to be happy. That’s it.”

I let go of Arthur to hold his middle, “I know. I am.”

He lets me go with a sigh, pulling away with a smile. It’s bright and the one thing that hasn’t changed since our childhood. I hear the windchimes again.

Twinkling in the daylight.

Lorenzo hooks his arm around my neck with a sigh, “If it’s what you want, I guess it’s alright.”

I smack his arm.

He smiles too, pressing a kiss to my forehead, “I mean it.”

“I know.”

The anxiety clears. There’s still something unsaid between us, but it isn’t enough to ruin this moment. Our mother calls us from down the stairs.

“Have you made up yet?”

We dissolve into laughter.

“Yes, mum.”

_________________

A/N:This work has been cross-posted on Wattpad and AO3. All are under the name XDACTED. Thank you for reading and feel free to request fics about any of the drivers <3

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slippinmickeys · 2 months

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Three Part Harmony (22/25)

“I don’t know why, but I think the girls’ cabins are probably cleaner,” Scully had said, their arms full of firewood at a fork in the woods above the lodge. He had nodded and followed her and now a small fire was burning cheerfully in the grate of the first cabin to the west, a sign that read ‘Ojiig’ over the outside of the door.

There were bunks all along the edges of the small building, stripped bare for the season, but they found a small cedar cabinet that housed linens and blankets a plenty. The top bunks were removable from the bottoms and easily lashed together to create a bed big enough to sleep the two of them with William in the middle. The pack-n-play had been one of the few things that Scully had not been able to bring.

Once they had their minimal chores completed, the cabin warming up nicely, they turned to each other and existed in the exhale of the moment, so much ground to cover they were overwhelmed into silence.

“Do you have any idea,” Scully finally said, stepping up to him, pressing her nose into his chest. “Do you know…”

He brought his arms around her and pulled her close, shushing her.

She was hyper aware of him, had been since she’d connected with him during the rescue, and now every part of her body thrummed at every point of contact.

“That was incredibly risky, what you did,” he mumbled into the crown of her head. “But thank you.”

At that she let the tears come, all the frustration and fear and longing coalescing into a tight ball of emotion that released like the opening of a steam vent.

“Hey, what’s with the waterworks?” he asked gently, dipping his head to look at her. “I was only gone a few days.”

Scully huffed a watery chuckle and held him, amazed at his capacity to laugh, to forgive, to love, to hope. After everything Mulder had been through, he was still soft, affectionate, ultimately kind and noble. She could occasionally feel herself harden against what felt like life’s continual abuse, but endeavored to take her cues from Mulder, who was always able to find a humane equilibrium.

He continued to murmur words of comfort, rubbing her back, his hands pulling little frissions of energy that skittered along her skin. She didn’t know if it was a byproduct of their mental connection, or just the result of their reunification, but she shivered under his touch.

“Are you cold?”

She pressed her body more firmly into him and looked up into his eyes.

“No,” she said, and she could feel the energy in the room shift. Knowing what was likely about to happen, she closed the door on the connection to her son–he was at the apex of the distance she could be away from him anyway.

Oddly, she could still feel Mulder’s consciousness, rippling just under the surface like river grass.

Mulder leaned down, his lips just a hair's breadth from hers. “Whatever this is,” he whispered. “I can feel it, too.”

Scully pushed up and pressed a kiss into him, and the careful control she’d been holding for the better part of a week instantly unraveled. Any semblance of restraint that they’d maintained due to the danger of their circumstances, or a necessary propriety in the presence of William or Rhonda, crumbled.

Mulder’s hands raked through her hair and she threw her arms around his neck, their kissing turning desperate and frantic.

Before she knew it, she was on her back on the makeshift bed, the scratchy wool of the blanket smelling pungently of cedar and making a mess of the back of her hair. Mulder was in between her legs, his body weight a delicious press. Her muscles felt heavy as rain clouds, the blood pooling above her thighs like a thunderhead.

They’d had so many close calls, she thought. So many missed opportunities. All of them running roughshod through her mind whenever their bodies came together. It made their lovemaking more urgent, and more poignant. It was still something to be cherished, but it was also something that needed to be felt .

They were still wearing most of their clothes when Mulder pulled aside her panties and slid thickly into her, the noise he made as he did so throaty and hoarse.

There was no finesse to this bout of lovemaking, no rhythm, but she still soared higher with every rough thrust, the wet sounds of their coupling the only soundtrack as she climbed.

Mulder had a pained look on his face, but she could sense his impending release, could feel it building alongside her own, the tension running just under the skin, arcing back and forth between them until they both came apart at the exact same moment. Their orgasm was roaring, chemical, like a deflagration to detonation transition, the spread of a flame that only burned between the two of them.

They collapsed together in a damp heap, utterly spent and out of breath.

Mulder was the first to move, rolling off of her briefly before pulling her into his side.

“I love you,” he said.

She turned in his arms to kiss him, to look him in the eye. "Me too."

“Now,” he said, and she could feel his nerves still thrumming alongside her own. “Tell me. What all can the two of you do? How do you do it?”

Scully reached out and strummed the bristles along his jaw.

“I’ll show you,” she whispered.

XxX

When they walked through the door of the lodge, Rhonda was holding a squirming William. Both the older woman and child lit up at the sight of the boy’s parents.

“Something tells me,” Rhonda said, wearing a knowing smile, “that you got here just in time.”

Scully gave her a curious look.

“Here,” Rhonda said, handing the child over. “Why don’t you help him walk over to his daddy.”

Scully felt a zing of delight shoot through her. She suspected what was about to happen. Reconnecting to the boy’s mind, she turned him and set his feet on the floor, holding him by the hands.

Mulder, wearing a small curious smile, squatted down about six feet away and faced them, opening up his arms in invitation.

“Hey bud,” he said encouragingly. “Come here!”

William took a few wobbly steps toward him, holding onto Scully for balance.

“Go see Daddy,” she said, loosening her grip on him when they were only a couple feet away. And then William let go of her hands and lurched forward, walking on his own for three steps before falling into Mulder’s outstretched hands.

Everyone immediately cheered, Rhonda and Scully whooping for joy while Mulder swung the boy up in the air, holding him above his head, the widest smile Scully had ever seen Mulder wear stretched across his face.

“You did it!” Mulder praised his son effusively, and Scully could feel a surge of what felt almost like mental voltage coming off of the boy in a rushing wave.

Above them, the lights hanging from the ceiling of the lodge glowed in white-hot candescence and then dimmed back to normal. Rhonda and Scully exchanged a quick look, but then turned back to William, all of them telling him what a good job he did, what a genius he was.

Mulder lowered the boy until he was tucked up against his side, his face joyful.

“If he’s done that before,” Mulder said, turning to Rhonda. “I don’t want to know.”

Rhonda smiled at him. “He looked like he was about to, so I scooped him up before he could. Wanted you both to be here to see it.”

Scully shot Rhonda a grateful look. William’s first steps and both she and Mulder were with him to bear witness. It felt a little like fate.

XxXxXxXxXxX

Mulder leaned back in his chair and sighed contentedly, his belly full of a warm meal.

They had pulled one of the cafeteria tables to the floor near the lodge’s fireplace and Rhonda had thrown together a delicious dinner of some of their more perishable foodstuffs. Scully had William in her lap, and she was taking turns feeding herself and the boy from the plate in front of her. She’d been wearing a small rare smile since their son had taken his first steps a little earlier in the evening. What Mulder wouldn’t give for that to be something she wore regularly.

He studied his little family pensively. Flicked his eyes to the woman who was helping them at great risk to her own life. Scully caught his expression and her gaze lingered on it.

“What I did to rescue you,” she said, feeding William a bite of banana. “I thought I would be pushing the limits of what William is capable of.”

He nodded at her eagerly, leaning forward so that his arms rested on the tabletop in front of him.

“I didn’t,” Scully said, giving him a significant look. Goosebumps rose up on Mulder’s skin. “His power is even more vast and incredible than we dreamed.” Mulder considered this for a moment, what she was inferring; that these gifts would be both a blessing, and a curse.

“Luckily,” she went on, “there’s a lot there that he can’t tap into. I think eventually he will be able to, or maybe only when he has very big feelings. But I think we can guide him as he grows up. Help him control it. Teach him when and how to use it.”

Important, Mulder knew, but he was more focused on the part she was leaving out.

“You say there’s a lot there that he can’t tap into. Do you mean you can?”

Scully took a breath and then nodded at him solemnly.

“So what kind of power are we talking about here, Scully? I saw you rip bolts from solid steel. Crush car door handles like they were soda pop cans…Do you think you can use his powers to kill?”

Mulder saw the apprehension wash across her face.

“Yes,” she eventually said.

“And would you?”

Mulder knew that Scully would do anything to protect their son. He knew that she would kill without a second thought if someone were coming after him. But he needed her to say it. Needed her to acknowledge it.

“Mulder…”

Mulder flitted his gaze to Rhonda and William and leaned toward Scully, resting his arms on his knees.

“Would you?” he asked quietly.

Her voice was equally low. “Yes.”

Mulder gave her a small smile. It was finally time to give voice to something he’d been thinking about since his rescue.

“Good,” he said. “Because I think we need to fight back.”

Scully swallowed thickly, turning her own eyes toward where their son sat on the floor at Rhonda’s feet, playing with a soft fabric book.

“Fight back,” she said without inflection.

“We can’t run forever,” Mulder explained. “We can’t give William a normal life if we’re being hunted. I think we have to hit them back. I think we have to hit them back so hard they wouldn’t dream of coming after us again.”

He watched Scully’s face for a reaction, but she kept her features unnervingly steady.

Finally, she said, “And how would we do that? We take the fight to them?”

“Oh,” he said. “I think we all know they’re going to bring it to us. One way or another.”

Mulder could see Rhonda pale, even from several paces away.

“Agent Bryson,” Mulder went on. “Tried to make me a deal. William for our freedom. When I told him to go to hell, he assured me that he would get our son. He said this time when they came for him, it would be like the very hand of God coming down, rather than an SUV of black ops mercs.”

The room was very still, even William taking a moment to look up at the faces of the grown-ups around him.

“And you think we can fight that and win?” Scully asked.

“I need to know if you think we can,” Mulder said. “Because I don’t think we have a choice.”

Most of the burden of their defense would necessarily come down on Scully’s shoulders, though he would do whatever he could to help her. His connection to their son was still and might always be rudimentary. A sharing of feelings, a wordless communication. He did not have the connection with him that Scully did. He couldn’t control what William could do like she could. And Scully seemed to be a necessary component to their shared nexus; the circuit through which their impulses passed.

She looked at him levelly.

“And if we take out whoever they send after us, you think they’ll leave us alone after that?”

Mulder looked at her squarely. “I don’t think they’ll have a choice.”

Scully released a slow breath. It was always going to come down to this, and they both knew it.

“I don’t want to run any more,” she said. She sounded tired, but also determined.

Mulder nodded at her, and as one, they turned to Rhonda.

The woman looked down at William and then stood up straighter, a look of conviction settling on her features.

“I’ve been running from things my whole life,” she said. She looked at Scully. “If you want to fight back…I’ll fight with you.”

Mulder turned to Scully as well. She licked her lips, looked at their son for a long moment.

“Let’s end this,” she said.

#the x-files #fanfic #my fic #msr #wip #family fic #but not fluff #three part harmony #almost done with this one folks

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drachonia · 8 months

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𝖑 𝖔 𝖛 𝖊 𝖘 𝖙 𝖔 𝖗 𝖞 .

Chevalier Michel Fluff notes: felt like writing this one just to get some Chev brainrot and general headcanons out of my head. nothing too serious or crazy here. excuse my (literal) french or lack thereof. it's been awhile since i've spoken or written any of the language, so i may be a little out of practice. feedback in messages is always appreciated. otherwise, i hope you forgive me for any mistakes. <3. content warning(s): written with OCs in mind, established characters/OCs, wholesome, sleepy little tiger babies.

A yawn pierced the silence of the royal palace of Rhodolite, the brutal beast getting to his feet and glancing at the candle on the windowsill before lifting it up to his lips to blow it out with a hushed breath, quietly closing the door behind him as he left the office. The king was lead down the hallways by a soft humming melody. The beast followed the melody like a siren’s song down the halls, the faintest of smiles upon his face as he peered into their bedroom, taking note of his wife, his Belle, singing to the two young boys as she rested her head against the pillows, letting them curl up with her. Her eyes closed in a blissful sigh, only opening up to meet his own arctic blue depths in the most loving gaze. She beamed as he moved across the room with a quiet stride, crouching down to rid himself of his gloves and slip off his shoes, climbing into bed and looping his arm behind the pillows that rested against the back of his sons’ heads. Olivier tiredly rubbing at his eyes as he yawned and smiled up at his father, drifting off quickly. It reminded Chevalier much of a certain brother of his, gently brushing the wavy pale blonde locks back from his little brow as he snored quietly. “Chevalier…” his beloved whispered to him, gently nodding at the elder of the boys, eight year-old Arsène, reading their large storybook quietly in the bright moonlight that illuminated the bed from the window behind it. His tiny fingers gently leafing through its pages as he quietly brushed at the wetness of his tired little cobalt eyes. The very picture of his father, if quite small. Chevalier smiled lightly, the smallest quirk of his lips as his eyes narrowed at the little boy that had subconsciously snuggled into his father’s side as he’d joined them to venture into dreamland. He gently grasped the spine of the book, fingers pressed between the pages as he lifted the book out of his eldest’s arms, feeling Arsène’s reluctant grip as he resisted. “Mon petit, you managed to wake before me, it is time for you to rest.” Chevalier gave another gentle tug on the book, feeling the young prince’s grip slacken, but not relent. “I was just reading the part where…wh-where…” his eyelids drooped and fluttered in fatigue as he started to drift before his body jolted slightly. He pouted and frowned up at his father, only to be met with the same smile as always. “Arsène, c’est l’heure d’aller au lit.” Chevalier hummed, leaning over to kiss his forehead, moving to do the same to Olivier’s as younger brother slept curled into his mother’s side. Arsène whimpering and letting go of the book to his father’s grip. Chevalier reached to the bedside table, plucking up one of the boys’ bookmarks and placing it between the hardcover pages. His hand gently setting the collection down and turning back to give the final goodnight kiss to his wife before resting his own head against the pillows. “Papa…?” The beast’s eyes flickered in the moonlight down to Arsène’s matching ones, full of childlike admiration, “I love you.” Some say that the rarest expression on the brutal beast was a faint smile, reserved only for his darling queen. But that wasn’t entirely true, for he had just as bright of a smile when he was reminded just how truly loved he was.

“I love you too, mon petit.” He murmured, drawing his family close as the four of them held each other tight.

lace headers by saradika.

#ikemen prince #ikepri fanfic #drac writes #ikepri fluff #ikepri chevalier #chevalier michel #ikepri oc #family fic

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ejzah · 2 months

Text

A/N: A small Densi family fic in honor of @mashmaiden’s birthday. Hope it’s been a great day!

***

Sandwiches and Slides

“Hey, hey, hey, get back here!” Deeks called out, breaking into a slight jog to keep up with a running Caleb. He stopped, looked back over his shoulder at Deeks, then started off again across the foamy surface of the playground, giggling madly the whole time.

Caleb narrowly missed a low hanging swing, but swerved at the last second. It was enough to slow him down though, and Deeks caught up with him, snatching him up under the arms.

“Ah, where think you’re going?” he asked conversationally, swinging Caleb up into one arm. It was more difficult now at 14 months. Caleb laughed and wiggled for a few seconds before he gave up, and settled.

“Looks like somebody’s giving you a workout,” Kensi observed from across the playground. She stepped over the ledge, walking towards them with something in each hand. She’d gone in search of snacks about fifteen minutes ago.

“Yep. Apparently making me chase him is way more fun than the plethora of features designed specifically for him to play on.” Deeks gave Caleb a mock stern look, and the toddler grinned up at him. “Isn’t that right, Mr. Caleb?”

“Dada kiss,” Caleb requested, presenting his forehead, and Deeks obliged.

Turning back to Kensi, Deeks nodded at the stack of wrapped packages in her hands. “What’s that?”

“I got us waffle sandwiches.” She peeled back a wrapper enticingly. “Bite?”

“Yes, please.”

Smiling, Kensi held out the sandwich for Deeks to take a bite, then started in on the other side herself.

“Where’s Rosa?” she asked, brushing a few wind blown strands of hair out her face.

“By the slides with Thing Two,” Deeks answered, gesturing with his chin now. Kensi offered him another bite, and Caleb leaned forward, opening his mouth wide.

“Bite,” he echoed.

Shaking her head indulgently, Kensi broke off a small piece and popped it into Caleb’s waiting mouth.

“Ank you,” Caleb replied around his mouthful.

Between the three of them, they finished one sandwich. Kensi balled the empty wrapper up and stuff it into the backpack on Deeks’ shoulder.

“We better go find the girls,” he said. “They’ll be furious if they found out we ate without them.”

“Mm. It’s amazing how similar they look when they’re mad,” Kensi commented.

“They get it from their mother.” He threw a wink at Kensi, who gave him a wry smile.

“You wanna play on the slides with your sissies?” Kensi asked Caleb as Deeks set him down once more. He perked up at that, pointing in the direction of the slides.

“Sopee?” He made a face as though he’d completely forgotten the existence of his twin. “Sopee! Sopee!” he called out at the top of his lungs, keeping it up until they reached the other side of the slides.

As soon as he caught sight of Rosa and Sophia, he ran the rest of the way, crashing into Rosa’s legs. Rosa stooped to hug him, then he moved over to Sophia, and they hugged as though they hadn’t seen each other in months.

“We got you lunch,” Kensi called out, holding one of the remaining sandwiches in the air.

“Oh thank you, I’m starving,” Rosa said. She hurried over to get it, taking it back to a bench off to the side, the twins tagging along.

Kensi sighed, resting her head on Deeks’ shoulder. “You know, I worried a little bit about the age difference between them, but seeing them like this makes me realize that it was the best thing that could happen.” Across from them, Caleb and Sophia were steadily conning Rosa into sharing her food. For every bite she took, they got two.

“We have some amazing kids,” Deeks agreed softly.

“Yes, we do.” Kensi tipped her chin up for a kiss. “Share the last sandwich with me?”

“Absolutely.”

#ncis la fanfiction #densi #marty deeks #kensi blye #Rosa #densi twins #family fic #fluff #ejzah fanfiction

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smallestapplin · 3 months

Text

I got you.

Have some family fic. Arthur is my oc as submas's dad, and Ingo and Emmet are around 16 in this

Cw : mentions of underage drinking(please do not, I do not condone or recommend.)

Being a single dad is tough but nothing Arthur couldn't handle, he loves his sons and knows he did well when his eldest came to him that morning.

"Hey Dad, some friends asked if me and Emmet could go to a party at their house tonight, would it be okay if we did?"

Arthur pats the teen's head, "Sure bud, just be safe, okay? You call me if needed, alright? Keep me posted."

Ingo huffs, playfully smacking his dad's hand off his head.

"Sure. Thank you!"

The eldest runs off, and faintly the older man can hear his youngest cheer at the news. He made sure they packed everything they needed, phones, house keys, and wallets, once everything was checked, he gave them both a hug and watched them leave.

Even now when he knows they'll come back home, he still feels a twinge and sadness knowing he'll be an empty nester soon.

Around ten at night, he checks his phone one last time to see if Ingo or Emmet had sent anything, still nothing it seems.

He's sure his sons are fine, but there is still that small voice in the back of his head telling him something is wrong. Arthur sighs, taking a deep breath, only looking at his side when his herdier nudges him.

"I know, pepper. They are strong boys..." the worry was eating at him.

It's not uncommon for his boys to want to spend the night at a friend's house or go out, but he still worries. He's glad they have each other but it's the whole reason he bought them phones in the first place, he knows they will use it but still.

He just hopes everything is okay.

He moves his covers and lays down, turning the lamp off. Before he sleeps for the night he turns his phone's volume up and keeps it close to his head.

Those ease him a little, just enough to fall asleep.

He woke with a start, grey eyes snapping open to the obnoxious ringtone he set for his eldest.

Blurry vision barely catches the time.

2:47 am

He answers it without a thought, though his face is still in his pillow.

"Ingo?" His voice was muffled by the plush pillow and thick with sleep.

He sits up with speed when he hears sniffling on the other end.

"Ingo, are you okay? Is Emmet with you?"

The Pokémon sleeping around him begin to stir at his quick movement.

"I...I know you said not to drink. B-but our friends-hic- friends took us to a different party and we had some, but they left us and- Dad, please come get us."

The fear dripping in the young boy's voice had Arthur up, slippers on, and speeding down the hallway and out the front door before he could finish.

"Alright, tell me where you are I'm on my way. Don't hang up, stay on the line with me."

He's in his car before his son even gives him a location.

Arthur is relieved the house isn't too far from where he is, ten minutes by car. The adrenaline in his veins kept him awake, though he might've broken a few traffic laws in the process, but he didn't care. His car nearly screeches to a halt in front of the house.

"I'm outside, do you feel safe enough to come to the car or do you want me to come in and get you two." He already had his seatbelt off and one foot out of the car.

"We can come."

Arthur stands outside the strange house and can finally breathe when his sons walk out, the two looking towards the ground looking guilty and afraid, tears welling up in their eyes.

Once close enough their father grabs them, wrapping them both in a tight hug.

"By Arceus I was worried. Are you two okay? Anyone hurt?" He looks them over, his stoic face breaking into concern.

They merely shake their heads not wanting to talk. He moves from them, letting them hop in the car so he can drive them home. The ride back home is silent, even as Arthur tries to ask if they are okay or if anything happened.

It eats him alive the sad look in Ingo's eyes or the guilt-ridden look in Emmet's.

Once home, they show their full feelings, once the front door shut the two cling to their father's sleep shirt, softly crying.

His arms are quick to be around them, hugging them tightly as he gently shushes them. He can't make out what they are saying, but he can occasionally hear 'sorry's coming from them.

"Shhh shhh it's okay, I'm here, I'll always be here. I got you." His heart breaks seeing his sons so afraid.

He doesn't know how long they stayed like this but it was enough for them to cry themselves to sleep. Arthur carries them both to their separate bedroom, taking their shoes off before tucking the boys into bed.

He goes to the kitchen grabs their favorite cups which he fills with some water, grabs some pain relievers from the cabinets, and some salty crackers, placing one of each on each boy's nightstand before going back to bed himself.

The adrenaline rush turns into a crash and he finds himself passing out the moment his head hits his pillow.

Tragically, he wakes up like clockwork around 6 am, he didn't get a good night's sleep after everything, but he still gets up.

No matter how groggy he is.

He's thankful it's Sunday or else his boys would have to go to school with hangovers, that thought leaves a bad taste in his mouth, but what's done is done.

He quietly makes his way to the kitchen, loading up his coffee maker as he prepares some breakfast.

Slowly but surely the smell of bacon wakes the twins, looking towards their respective nightstands they see what their father had left them.

Emmet takes his quickly, the headache he has is not kind and he wants it over.

Ingo hesitates, he broke rules, doesn't that mean he broke Dad's trust? He doesn't deserve to feel better after that, but he caves as his head throbs in pain.

He's the first to take a quick shower while Emmet brushes his teeth, the twins feeling awful after last night and just want to feel better.

After drying off and getting changed the two slowly make their way into the kitchen, where they see their dad finishing up a third plate.

"Your breakfast is ready. You two need to eat."

The plates consist of two eggs, some bacon, a pancake (two in Emmet's case), and some biscuits.

They slowly take their plates but Arthur also points to the stove.

"Made some tea too, Chamomile."

"Thank you, dad."

"Thanks pops."

They both spoke weakly, grabbing a cup too before heading to the dining table. Arthur follows shortly after cleaning up a bit.

He looks at them and notices they are just picking at their food.

"You know, I'm not mad at either of you."

They snap their heads towards him, their silver hair messing up at the speed.

He chuckles softly.

"You two had me so worried, I was scared something worse had happened, I'm just happy y'all called me."

He blinks as Ingo's frown wavers.

"We are sorry, we will never do that again! It was awful. We were going to stay with our friends like usual, but sometime later one of their friends was through a bigger party and said we should join."

"Ingo said no. It's my fault." Emmet interrupts his brother, his smile shaking as tears fill his eyes.

"No! It's both of our faults, we didn't want to look cowardly. And then the drinks got involved and- and-"

Arthur holds his hand up, stopping Ingo in his ramble.

"Thank you for being honest with me. And while I get it, I never want you two to do that again, please, my old heart can't take it." He lightly jests at the end.

"You're my sons, I love you both more than I could explain. You scared me, but I want you to know you can call me for anything and I'll be right there, got it?"

By the end of his little speech, his sons are silently crying but not rapidly.

"Good. Now eat, you two need the energy."

A lopsided smile makes its way to his face, watching them devour the meal he made them.

He's a proud dad indeed.

He runs his fingers through his salt-and-pepper hair.

He can feel he's going to go greyer faster at this rate, but for his sons, it's worth it, as long as they are safe.

#pokemon oc #oc.arthur #oc arthur #submas family #pokemon ingo #pokemon emmet #pokemon submas #submas #family fic #we love healthy families in this household

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creationofacentury · 4 months

Text

(For anyone who's interested in interaction between X and Grumbot: Hello! This is a short fanfic about them.)

------

Grumbot has been working in the grocery store for a long time. He has seen a lot of strange people. People with gills, people with eye patches, people with wings, people with watermelon hats, people that looks like creeper...but the strangest person among them is the owner of the store.

X, is what the they asked Grumbot to call them. X wears their helmet all the time, Grumbot has never seen their face. (Grumbot assumes they have a face. Most people have it.) X never eats, which is very different from most people that Grumbot knows. X also talks in a really unique voice, it sounds like the asphalt surface when Grumbot drags his feet across the floor (X doesn't like it when he does that), and Grumbot likes how X's voice sounds similar to his own. Some times, though, X stares at him with an expression that Grumbot doesn't understand, but despite the strangeness, Grumbot likes X. X takes good care of him, and X is red- Grumbot loves red.

He tells X that.

Beneath the visor and armor, X stiffens. They slowly turn to look at Grumbot and frown.

"Yeah?" X sounds extra cheery today. Normally they just make noises at Grumbot that he has yet to understand and walk away. "Why is that?"

Do frowns go with cheery? Grumbot needs to update his database. "It makes me think of...bed, I guess. It makes me feel warm."

"..." The frown disappears, and now Grumbot can't read X's expression at all. It's all blank. "Your bed only has two colors, and it's yellow and black."

"Bee's color,"

"Yeah."

"I like bees,"

"I know."

"But I still don't know why I like red..." Grumbot sighs- a movement he learns from X, "...Oh, I know! Maybe it's because you are red, X!"

X visibly shakes.

Grumbot tilts his head in confusion.

"...Yeah?" X asks weakly after a few seconds.

"Yeah!"

"...That's great." They smile, and it looks wobbly. "Kid, isn't it almost your bed time?"

Grumbot checks the clock on the wall to be sure. "It's only seven, X, are you alright? You are acting unusual today!"

"I'm fine, don't worry about me." X turns around to fiddle with the counter. "How about we close for the day early, and I'll let you count the diamonds?"

"CAN I?!"

"Yes, but! Just for today."

"Yay! You are the best, X!"

X turns away. "What are you waiting for? Go lock the door."

As Grumbot runs to lock the door, he hears X mumbles. It isn't unusual, X does that a lot, and it's always something about sooma and void, but Grumbot has never figured out what a sooma is. He has a feeling that X doesn't know he can hear them all.

This time though, there's a new word:

"Call me heartless one more time...who's the heartless ones? The simulation is over, it's been years- aren't they your children? I swear to Notch, Grian..."

Grian?

Grumbot collapses to the ground.

System rebooting...

Memory access blocked...

Overwrite?

Access denied...

System rebooting...

"...umbot? Grumbot! Wake up! Kid, come on, come on, come on-!"

"...X?"

"KID, YOU SCARED ME HALF TO DEATH!"

Grumbot realizes they are on the ground. X is cradling him like a human baby, and Grumbot kind of like it.

"X? What happened?"

X has their right hand on Grumbot's forehead, "You are shaking,"

Grumbot wants to say X's voice is shaking too, but he decides not to. He is shaking after all, and he doesn't know why.

"Why?"

"I don't know, you just collapsed- and-"

"Sorry, X..."

"DON'T." X yells and then immediately regrets it, "Sorry, I...don't be sorry for things you can't control, don't ever apologize for that, okay?"

Grumbot nods.

"I need verbal response, kid."

"...yes, X."

And X wraps their arms around Grumbot. Grumbot has seen customers do that. Once, a man with a watermelon hat came in with a yellow shirt child, and when the child cry, the man did this. X told him it was a hug, and finally Grumbot gets one as well.

X's soft, Grumbot decides. He can feel it through the armor. Maybe X have a face underneath the helmet after all, since faces are soft, too.

After three minutes, Grumbot thinks he still needs to ask, "...Can I still count the diamonds?"

X chuckles. It sounds choked, maybe X needs to drink water. Grumbot knows X has a pair of cups and a box of tea, but he has never seen X use them before. They just sit on the shelf in the back of the store, strangely not collecting dust at all.

"You don't sound great, X, are you sure you are okay?"

X stays silent.

It takes them a while to reply, "...Give me a night. I will be okay tomorrow, alright?"

"Okay."

"You can count the diamond on your own right? Don't fall asleep with them in your bed, I will know if you do."

"Okay, okay! I won't! Get better soon!"

With a final pat on the head, X walks him to his room and hands him the diamonds. Grumbot counts the diamond one by one, and he recounts just so he doesn't mess up. When he falls asleep, he dreams of a person in red and a person in black, smiling towards him. They seem nice. All in all, it's a good day. (And if he gets up before X, he can get away with sleeping with diamonds in his bed, then the day would be even better.)

#evil xisuma #grumbot #hermitcraft #hermitcraft fanfic #family fic #hermitcraft s9 #hermicraft s8 #hermicraft s7 #basically Grumbot lost his memory and is living with Evil X #in a grocery store because it's cute #Evil X saved the kids from the s7 server reset #I have been thinking about Grumbot again. This happens every three months lmao #grian #mumbojumbo #grammar tips welcome!!!!!!!!#and you might ask where jrumbot is. well. take a guess.

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ssa-atlas-alvez · 1 year

Text

You'll be 'kay (Hotchner Family)

Prompt: 'We shouldn't have met.'

Warnings: First breakup, crying, harsh breakup

Word count: 565

You hadn’t been dating long and it was your first relationship, you were sixteen and it had started as a crush that had developed. You told her reluctantly and she reciprocated and the two of you had started dating. She even came to a family dinner at Rossi’s after one of the cases and the team absolutely loved her, including your dad.

“We should never have dated,” Your heart clenched. “Hell, we shouldn’t have met.”

“What?” You furrow your eyebrows, you didn’t understand, everything seemed fine yesterday.

“We’re breaking up,” You furrowed your eyebrows before she continued, “We ruined our friendship by trying this, not to mention how distant you are - it’s like you don’t even notice me. I deserve better than you. Don’t try and contact me again.” You don’t say anything as she leaves, trying your best to hold it together.

At lunch, you absentmindedly scrolled social media - you weren’t really allowed phones out, but you were in your history teacher’s room and he didn’t really care if you were on your phone - and your heart broke when you went to your DM’s and realised the chat had disappeared. She had blocked you.

The rest of the day passed slowly and you were struggling to keep a lid on your emotions, but soon enough, you were on the bus home with your headphones blaring and looking dramatically out of the window.

“Hey, (Y/N), how was school?” Your dad greeted you as you walked in.

“I don’t wanna talk about it,” You mumble, walking past him to the living room, getting ready to head up to your bedroom where you were planning on staying until the end of time. Not only had the pair of you broken up, but she didn’t even want you to be friends anymore. You had lost her from your life completely.

Aaron furrowed his eyebrows, placing the tea towel on the counter as he walked towards you, “I know you don’t want to talk about it, but if you change your mind, you can talk to me about it - about anything.”

“I know, I just-” You sniff, looking down. Aaron reached out, gently rubbing your back as tears began to drip down your face. You plopped yourself down on the couch and put your head in your hands.

“It’s alright,” Aaron mumbled, he had sat down next to you and sat down next to you as he continued to rub your back.

“She broke up with me,” You mumbled, “Said we couldn’t even be friends anymore and she deserved better,”

“I’m so sorry,” He responded, “Breakups aren’t fun,”

You shook your head, “It’s really not,” You responded. “I feel stupid for telling her, now we’re not even friends. At least before I told her we were friends,”

You look up, hearing soft footsteps, “(N/N)?” Jack asked, furrowing his little eyebrows, “Wha’s da matter?” He padded up to you, crawling up and into your lap.

“Well, you know Jessie?” When Jack nods, you continue, “We’re not together anymore,”

Jack looked at you, studying you for a minute, he lightly patted your cheek, “‘T’s okay,” He replied, “You’ll be ‘kay,”

You give him a small smile, “Yeah, I think I will be,” You mumble, “How about we watch a movie?” You ask, looking at both your dad and brother.

“Yeah!”

“I’ll get the ice cream,”

“Ice cream!” Jack cheered.

#aaron hotchner #jack hotchner #y/n hotchner #first break up #break up #harsh break up #?#criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #family fic

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sunshines-child · 6 months

Text

little thing that bothers me

How come I’m eve try Solangelo family fic they have a daughter named Bianca? It’s in every. Single. One. And don’t get me wrong, they’re very sweet, and I love the stories differently, but Bianca??? Why? it’s a pretty common misconception that people will want to name their child over someone who has passed away who was also very, very close to them. This little thing is more often than not, wrong. People do name their children after dead grandmas and grandpas, but a big part plays that you don’t know them THAT WELL. (And if they do, they most likely will not name their child after that relative). The thing is that the brain will often try to think of a different name because having the same makes the brain feel like they are trying to “replace” the previous person with that name. (Does that sound confusing?) Nico was very close with Bianca, and I can bet my pretty pennies he’ll feel like if he had a daughter and named it Bianca, there’d be a little nagging voice saying that he was trying to replace his dead sister. Same goes for Maria (although I’ll give a wider pass on that. Nico forgets most about Maria. Not Bianca though) If writer still want Nico to buy a namesake of remembrance, a more likely solution is that Nico puts Bianca as a middle name. Middle names are never really said, but still hold weight. For a first name, it could be a name that has the same meaning as Bianca, or sounds like it. (EX. Cara, Phebe, Kasen, Kari) also, why is it always a daughter? Why is it some rule all gay couples need to have a daughter? Why can’t it be a son? There’s nothing wrong with a daughter, I’ve read Solangelo family fics that are really humorous because two men are trying to deal with how to raise a girl, b it why? And when there is a son with the daughter they’re very little spoken about. Why? Do readers not want to have two gay guys raise a boy? So far I’ve found one fic over Solangelo raising a boy. No daughter. And the writer ended up giving up on it because they received backlash over the fact there was no daughter named Bianca. It’s kind of stupid. (no hate to the Bianca daughter people. The writing is adorable, keep it up!)

#will solace #nico di angelo #pjo #family fic

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localplaguenurse · 11 months

Link

Chapters: 1/? Fandom: 原神 | Genshin Impact (Video Game) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Zhongli (Genshin Impact)/Reader, Zhongli (Genshin Impact) & Reader Characters: Zhongli (Genshin Impact) Additional Tags: Reader is Not Traveler (Genshin Impact), Female Protagonist, Liyue (Genshin Impact), Inazuma (Genshin Impact), Implied/Referenced Sex, One Night Stands, Hook-Up, No Smut, it's all offscreen, Unplanned Pregnancy, Pregnancy, Discussion of Pregnancy, doesn't actually focus much on pregnancy but I felt like I should tag anyways, Single Parents, Reader is from Inazuma (Genshin Impact), Children, Children of Characters, Mother-Son Relationship, Family Feels, Family Fluff, Family Bonding, Soft Zhongli (Genshin Impact), Zhongli is Bad at Feelings (Genshin Impact), Zhongli Being an Idiot (Genshin Impact), Domestic Fluff, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Tags May Change Summary:

Nearly six years ago, you had gone on a trip with your friends to Liyue for a few days. While you were there, you met a handsome gentleman with the prettiest eyes you have ever seen. Though you have not returned to Liyue since then, you still see those pretty eyes everyday.

After all, where else would your son have gotten them?

#ao3 #zhongli x reader #zhongli x you #zhongli #zhongli genshin #zhongli genshin impact #genshin impact #genshin #my fic #my writing #family fic

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aloysiavirgata · 6 months

Note

I have a bet going that even the most saccharine fluff can actually be done well. So, a prompt for you, if you’re willing:

Mulder and Scully’s kid is an elementary student of the week. Every day that week, kid has to do a Special Assignment; Our Family, Draw a picture of the family pet, whatever. Go! (?)

“Are you shitting me?” Mulder asks, staring at the list. “I’ve read Kitty Kelley biographies less invasive than this.”

Scully leans over, perusing. “You’re so dramatic, it’s a very sweet little program! Tomorrow is his favorite book.”

She frowns then. “Oh.”

“Oh,” Mulder repeats. “The Book That Eats People.”

Scully puts her face in her hands. “We’re the Addams Family,” she groans. “Jesus.”

Mulder pats her on the back. “Maybe he’ll pick Madeline,” he suggests, without much conviction.

***

William is at the table, tongue poked between his lips. “How do you spell ‘disavowed?” he asks.

His father scowls. “William, just say I’m a writer. You don’t need all the back story.”

“D-I-S-A-“ his mother begins.

“SCULLY.”

William beams, a gap-toothed smile. His father’s crinkled eyes. His mother’s blue irises. “Go on, Scully,” he says.

***

The cat is curled in a spiral on the Lazy Susan, her glorious tail a twitchy plume.

“Can I tell them why we named her Taily-Po?” William asks.

Scully frowns. “It’s a scary story, William,” she says. “Not everyone is -“

“Yes,” says Uncle Frohike, scooping up lentils with a wedge of paratha. “It’s classic Americana. That’s patriotism in Virginia.”

Scully frowns. “William. Just tell them we found her as a kitten behind a Vietnamese restaurant.”

“There’s a hyphen,” says Uncle Langley, helpfully.

***

William pokes through the cardboard box of pictures. “Can I tell them Aunt Melissa was murdered ?” he asks. “And that it was never solved? And what do I say about Aunt Samantha, Dad?”

Scully stares beseechingly at Taily-Po, who blinks greenly in reply.

***

“Can I bring both bullets?” William asks his parents. “I can’t pick just one of your gunshots!”

Mulder considers his apple crumble. “How about your mother’s bullet and my letter from the Jerry Springer show?”

William perks up. “Yeah?”

“NO,” Scully says, over a mug of tea. “Those are not appropriate for show and tell.”

William stabs at a potato.

“Well, you have your last birthday card from Skinner,” Mulder says. “Most kids don’t get cards from the director of the FBI.”

William rolls his eyes. “It’s just a CARD,” he groans. “It’s BORING. It’s the last day, it has to be GOOD.”

Mulder ponders for a moment. He looks at Scully, the love of his life. Her fine cheeks are drawn in as she blows on her tea, her mouth a damask rose. She has a nose like a Roman queen, hair like Hestia’s tender flame. Against every odd she birthed him a strong, healthy child. He would kill for her. He would die for her.

“William,” he says to his son, not meeting her apatite gaze. “Have you heard of a show called COPS?”

#msr #xf fic #xf fanfic #william #au #family fic #prompt

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curseofroses · 2 years

Text

a star danced

Just a bit of unadulterated mother/daughter fluff sprinkled with usamamo love. Setting: any time post R season Summary: Usagi helps Chibi-usa with a problem, and tells her something no-one has told her before.

“There was a star danced, and under that was I born”

-Much Ado About Nothing, William Shakespeare

“You don’t have this much hair. Why do I have this much hair?!”

Usagi is going to be nice, she tells herself. She is going to start being kinder, wiser, more...motherly towards Chibi-usa. She is absolutely not going to laugh as her future daughter struggles to get a hairbrush unstuck from her mass of pink hair, gets it more tangled, and then snorts in frustration.

The little snort does her in, and she cackles, rocking forward with the force of it.

To be fair, I will be nicer to Chibi-usa is practically a mantra for Usagi. She makes the vow to herself at least once a week, and her personal best is four hours and thirty-one minutes.

She’s doing so good this time. She’s going to call on every bit of her that is going to be Neo-Queen Serenity one day, and she is not going to laugh. She’s going to beat her streak, she is! Chibi-usa gives her a look of annoyance that is pure Mamo-chan, and it sends Usagi into a fit of giggles all over again. This kid.

“Why are you the worst?” Chibi-usa shrieks. “I’m struggling over here!”

“No, I’m sorry, I’ll stop,” she says, covering her mouth, trying to corral her expression into something less...gleeful. The hairbrush is now completely lodged in Chibi-usa’s left pigtail, and the little cone-shaped odango is starting to come undone. “C’mere, I’ll help you get it out.”

Chibi-usa glares. Usagi stares back, doing her absolute best to not stare at the bunny hairbrush that is hopelessly stuck in Chibi-usa’s hair. Think motherly thoughts, she tells herself. Finally, small eyes still narrowed, small arms still crossed over her chest, Chibi-usa takes a few stiff steps forward and unceremoniously deposits herself cross-legged in front of Usagi with a small hmph.

To be fair, she has a lot of hair. Like a lot. Usagi has a lot of hair too, but hers is finer and more prone to tangling. The knots in Chibi-usa’s hair aren’t actually all that bad, just too high for her little arms to reach, and Usagi is able to free the hairbrush with practiced ease. That left odango is done for, though, so without really thinking about it, she removes the pins, lets Chibi-usa’s hair down, and starts the process of getting all the tangles out for good.

“I knoooow,” Usagi sing-songs a few minutes later, a smile on her lips. “Why you have so much haaaaair.”

“...you do?”

“I do,” She hums a little as she runs the brush through Chibi-usa’s thick hair, brushing the ends over the palm of her hand and watching them curl. The curl comes from her, no doubt, and she has no idea where the color comes from, but she has run her hands through hair just like this many, many times.

“You,” she says, reaching around to boop the little girl’s nose, “have Mamo-chan’s hair.”

“Really?”

She turns around eyes wide, as though no-one has ever told her she looks like her papa before.

“Mmmhmm. His is really heavy like this, too. That’s probably why your mama puts your hair in the bunny odangos. If we put it in regular ones they would be the size of your head and you might fall over.”

Chibi-usa falls dramatically backwards into her lap, sticking her tongue out at Usagi from below. They spend a few minutes making faces at each other before Usagi props her back up and continues brushing out her long hair.

“Nobody ever tells you that, huh?”

“Most of the time people say I look just like you.”

You. Not Mama. She doesn’t usually do that, usually they’re very careful to distinguish between big sister Usagi and Mama, but sometimes she slips when she’s tired and it always makes Usagi feel something very big that it’s hard to name.

“Mmm, well, yes, unfortunately I have cursed you with my beauty, but you make a lot of Mamo-chan’s faces.”

“I do?”

Chibi-usa turns around again, and that is one of them. The wide, slightly disbelieving eyes and thoughtful frown. The way he always looks when she’s done something as revolutionary as remembering his favorite ice cream flavor (chocolate chip mint) or remembering which vegetables not to put in the curry (green peas), or when she brings home a book he said he’d been meaning to read along with her stack of manga.

The “you see me?” look.

It makes her drop a quick kiss on the little girl’s forehead. “You absolutely do. And let’s not forget the way you fell out of the sky and immediately knew how to get on my nerves. I should have known whose kid you were from the drop.”

“Wait, what do you mean?”

It occurs to Usagi that Chibi-usa is so young with parents so busy that she might not even know yet that they had started out this lifetime as...well.

“Once upon a time,” she says, separating Chibi-usa’s hair into pigtails for braiding. “There was a very pretty girl who had to take the world’s hardest test, and a baka in a stupid green coat who flirted like a seven year old.”

It’s almost bedtime, so instead of odangos she carefully brushes and braids each pigtail as she tells her future daughter about the time she’d hit her father in the head with a test, and then another test, and then a shoe, and then another shoe, entirely by accident. Chibi-usa bursts into adorable giggles when Usagi gets to the part where Mamo-chan told her she needed to be careful or her bun head was going to turn into a bun body (“Traitor!”) and gets quiet when she gets to the part about the Starlight Tower.

She skips over the sad stuff (she’s not sure Mamo-chan will ever be okay with Chibi-usa knowing about his time with the Dark Kingdom, and she doesn’t need the mental image of all of the senshi dying, one by one) with an abbreviated version of Beryl’s defeat, and instead moves on to happier, sillier things, like Snow White plays and babysitting adventures.

By the time she reaches the revelation that Tsukikage no Knight had been Mamo-chan all along, Chibi-usa has fallen back against Usagi again, but this time, she’s fast asleep.

She looks like her papa when she’s asleep, too.

“And then, a few months later,” Usagi says to her sleeping daughter and an empty room, reaching for her phone. “A little brat nearly broke my neck, and nothing has ever been the same.”

She unlocks the phone, and holds it up, smiling sweetly, snapping a picture with Chibi-usa asleep in her lap. Mamo-chan is probably at work - he’s got a new job lately and the hours are stupid long, but he checks his phone on breaks.

Cute when she’s asleep like somebody else I know, she types. We love you!

As she hits send, she thinks she might not be too bad at this mom stuff, after all. *** There we have it. My first completed Sailor Moon fic in what feels like a lifetime, and it is the most spun sugar cotton candy kind of fluff I have ever written, probably. That seems in character for me, lol. Anyway, if you like it, let me know! I haven’t actively participated in this fandom for some time, but I’ve been scribbling out bits of fanfic for two months now whenever I get the chance so I figured it was time to start getting some of it out there. Enjoy!

#usamamo #usagi x mamoru #chibiusa #family fic #curseofroses fanfic

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jokeringcutio · 1 year

Note

Alright i just watched a wholesome reels of this

Now here's the plot : Imagine Harrow finally getting better that he doesn't need to stay at the asylum 24/7 anymore, basically allowed to leave and take meds to his home. Now that he got more time with his little family, he decided to bring his daughter and his wife (the reader) to a beach. Your daughter wanted to hunt some seashells on the beach, then suddenly so many pretty seashell magically appeared. Turns out Arthur bought a pack of perfect seashells and quietly dropped some to make his lil girl felt so happy that she found those sea treasures. He may a cult leader that once declared to be legally insane, but he's still a great dad you could ever had for your kid ;)

Here it is: Fandom: Moon Knight, Arthur Harrow X Reader Drabble: Daddy Harrow & Daughter, Reader Insert. ~*~SeaShells~*~ Rating: General Tags: Fluff, Family, Cute, Adorkable, beach.

“Oh, daddy! There’s another!” Your daughter couldn’t pronounce the word shell yet. Or well, not the way it is supposed to be said. She had invented her own little word for it and it melted both your heart as well as that of your husband.

Arthur Harrow’s hair had turned grey almost completely and the lines on his face had multiplied. But at least he could walk again. And with the medication, Ammit’s voice and anger were kept at bay enough for him to have left the asylum and live a somewhat peaceful life at home. With you. And with your little family.

“Really?” You heard Arthur say with feigned surprise. He could act, you had to give him that. The way his eyebrows lifted and his grey eyes lit up in surprise. He’d almost fool you. He certainly fooled your toddler, for she ran up to him on chubby legs to show the shell she had just found on the beach.

“ ‘Ere,” she said, showing him the long and twisted seashell that was almost too big to be held in her tiny hands. Her eyes glittered with joy. “It is perfect!”

“It is,” her father concurred, his voice a soft hum. Then he knelt down on one knee to be at eye level with her. He had to use his cane for support, and rested one elbow on his raised knee to keep his balance. His hair fell in front of his eyes, a few hairs stuck to the side of his lips as he spoke to her. “It seems you have found the most perfect of all seashells,” he pretended to study the cone in her hand, then smiled up at her. “Well done.”

She was beaming with pride and closed her tiny hand around the seashell before she came dashing towards you. “Mommy, mommy, look!”

“My, such a pretty seashell!” you exclaimed, happy to play along and see your daughter beam even more. “It’s almost as if I’ve seen that one before,” you added sarcastically, knowing your daughter didn’t hear. She had already turned around to look for more seashells and was walking ahead of you, head bent and hair dangling in front of her face. A mirror image of her father.

Said father was pushing himself up with a groan, but managed to stand straight despite his injuries. His feet worried you the most. You knew they’d never healed properly. He used his cane, which was hard to use on the sandy beach. It kept slipping away between the grains of sand, but he insisted to take it along. You hadn’t seen him carry it around while he was still at the asylum, but once he got out, he brought it along wherever he went.

His brown shoes creaked as he walked. You were glad he wasn’t wearing his sandals and the risk of sand getting in was small. He came to stand next to your side and flashed you a crooked smile.

“Well, now,” he started as he leaned his head closer to yours. “And what is my dear wife implying?” he teased, voice sultry and smooth like honey.

You couldn’t help but blush as you looked up at him, noticing how close he stood to you. “Nothing!” you chirped. You definitely were implying something. This wasn't the first time your daughter had found the perfect shells after all. You knew how Arthur had collected them, bought them just so he could plant them during your walks.

Arthur grinned while he brought his hand into the pocket of his plain wine-red pants. Then he pulled out another seashell, similar to the one your daughter had just found. You were watching her with hawks’ eyes and hadn’t noticed Arthur’s gesture until he gently pressed his elbow against yours. Then you looked at him again and noticed the seashell in his hands.

You smiled up at him, knowingly and conspiringly, while he smiled back at you.

“You know me,” Arthur murmured while he gently put the shell back inside his pocket. “I only want the best of the best for my sweethearts.”

You gently grasped his wrists, halting him in his movements, then stood on your tiptoes to place a kiss on the tip of his nose. With a smile, you retreated. “I love you,” you knew you didn’t even need to say it. He knew. His eyes shimmered with something dark, something between love and lust.

It felt good to say it.

“I love you too,” his words, a daily ritual. But hearing these words always felt like they were new. Even after all these years spent together. You'd never get enough of saying them and of hearing them being said to you.

The two of you started walking along the beach, following your daughter’s footprints while you listened to her happy cries of joy and the soft sounds of the sea.

~*~Fin~*~

AN: Hope you enjoyed my bestie @nicktremblaywayfu I haven't written a lot of fluff yet on this account, as I love to go dark with my tales, but I can do it. I can be homely and cute and sweet :) Happy Easter 💛 And I hope you have a lovely day 💛 To All Readers & Followers on here: Feel free to hit me up with more drablle and imagine requests. Love you all and have a good day (Though I might be uploading a bit more soon ;D )

#Moon Knight Drabble #Moon Knight snippet #Arthur Harrow #Arthur Harrow x Reader #Arthur Harrow Fluff #Family Fic #Imagine having a daughter with a villain #Beach Tale #Read this in the sun #Moonknight #Arthur Harrow prompt #Moon Knight Fanfiction #Friendly and cute

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slippinmickeys · 2 months

Text

Three Part Harmony (24/25)

She could feel him in her head before she heard him.

“Scully!” he said urgently, then she felt his hard grip on her shoulder.

With an instant dump of adrenaline, she sat up straight, the blanket falling to her waist. Mulder was standing next to the bed, his arm extended, still holding onto her.

“What is it?” she asked, instantly sending out mental feelers for William, but finding the distance between them too great.

“They had a tracker on Rhonda’s car,” Mulder explained. “They know we’re here.”

“Shit,” Scully said, swinging her legs over the side of the bed and grabbing the pants she’d worn the day before, sliding them up and on.

Mulder dug into the bag of their things and tossed her a shirt and a fleece, which she pulled on, her thoughts flying a mile a minute.

“Get the guns,” she said, but turned to see Mulder already pulling them out of their luggage, dumping the paper bag of S&W ammunition and ketamine syringes onto the mattress which was still warm from her body.

“Where’s the other Glock?” she asked.

“Gave it to Rhonda,” Mulder said, distracted. He had paused what he was doing and cocked his head to the side as if he heard something. Scully was lacing up her second boot when she heard it, too; the low, distant growl of an approaching helicopter.

Mulder hissed a vicious swear.

“I think we have to assume that’s for us,” Scully said, standing.

Mulder turned to her. “Can you bring it down?” he asked.

“Not before getting confirmation that it is for us. But…Yes,” Scully said. “I have to see it first, though. I have to know its position in relation to me, to everything else. That’s why I connected with you in the US Marshals van and asked you to look around for me. I have to see and feel what’s going on. It’s hard to describe.”

“So when we’re connected…you can see what I can see?”

“Sort of,” she tried to explain.

Mulder nodded, then looked out the small window of the cabin.

“I think it’s coming from across the lake. Toward the lodge.”

“William-” she said, her already thumping heart jumping to beat more madly.

“What if he’s nearby the chopper?” Mulder asked. “Can you work through him?”

She nodded, once again casting out her thoughts for her son. “But I can’t…” She winced. “William is too far from me right now. I need to be with him.”

“Okay…” Mulder said. “Go to him. Now.” He pressed the other Glock into her hands along with the ketamine and grabbed the big Smith and Wesson, tucking it into the back of his jeans. Scooping all the loose ammunition into his pockets, he said, “I think we have to assume that they’re not just coming from the air. That they’re going to come from all over. I’ll go out there, into the woods and by the road. Let me be your eyes and ears.”

“Mulder, no,” she said, a panic gripping her. She saw the sense in his argument, but couldn’t bear the thought of being separated from him again.

“Scully,” he said, looking at her intensely.

She closed her eyes and nodded at him, relenting, releasing him to the wilds. They both made their way to the door of the cabin and Mulder pulled her sharply back before they could push their way through. He pressed a searing kiss to her mouth, pulling away after a moment and then running out into the cover of the forest.

Scully shook herself and then flew out the door of the cabin, running as fast as she could toward the lodge.

XxX

Rhonda had William working on a small bowl of dry cereal when she heard the distant tucka, tucka, tucka coming from the other side of the lake.

She dashed to the big bay windows of the lodge and looked out. On the far side of the water she saw three distant black specks coming toward them, low on the horizon through the valley between the mountains that fed into the lake.

“Christ!” she sputtered, and ran back toward the kitchen to kill the lights she’d turned on.

There were two doors that led into the main part of the cafeteria and one off the kitchen in the back. The doors that led into the main space were to the left and right of the big windows that overlooked the lake. The one to her right led to the main part of campus, and the one to the left, on the other side of the large fireplace, opened to the back side of the lodge where they kept a large store of firewood and some of the utility equipment.

Rhonda flew first to one door and then the other, throwing the locks and then darting to the center of the big space, unsure of what to do next. She should probably go into the kitchen to lock that door as well, but she expected Mulder and Scully to come through it at any moment, and she didn’t want to leave William, who was sitting on a blanket on the floor happily shoveling cereal into his mouth, unaware of the incoming danger.

Most of the large room was as they had found it, all furniture (but for the table they’d pulled in front of the fireplace the evening before) pushed up against the walls and neatly stacked, the old lost and found box sitting next to a dusty upright piano. There was a large pass-through window that opened into the kitchen with metal supports at waist level so that kids could slide their trays along as they picked up their meal. On the other side of the room, behind the dining area, was a small dais with dusty red curtains hanging on either side of it– an area the kids used to put on shows on sodden, rainy days. Otherwise the space was cavernous and empty, but for the pictures along the walls and little William on his blanket.

The specks across the lake were growing larger, and she could clearly see them now, the sleek black shapes of three military-like helicopters, each of them bristling with weaponry.

Keeping low to the ground, she shuffled over to where William was sitting and picked him up along with the bowl of food he was eating, easing her way back to the edge of the room. Her first instinct was to hide, but she knew the men coming for them would search every square inch of the camp. Their only course of action was to fight back.

At that moment, there was a bang from the kitchen, and Scully came flying into the middle of the room, her gaze immediately swinging toward Rhonda and her son. The boy in her arms tensed momentarily, dropping the Cheerios that were in his hand. When Rhonda looked down at him, his pupils went wide, blown black, and then returned to normal, his ice blue irises locked in on his mother.

“Mama,” the boy said, reaching out to Scully.

Rhonda realized that she’d witnessed the moment that Scully and the boy mentally connected.

Scully walked toward them with purpose, holding out her hands, and Rhonda passed the boy over without a word. Scully leaned down to kiss his downy head, and she breathed deeply into his skin, her eyes closed. Rhonda saw the baby relax into her arms.

The sound from outside was growing louder and louder, and Rhonda looked toward the lake. The choppers were practically on top of them, hovering above the roof of the lodge, out of sight. Rhonda watched as black ropes unfurled into the frame of the windows before them, uncoiling to the ground like snakes ready to strike. A moment later, dozens of soldiers dressed head-to-toe in black combat gear rappelled down the cords, each of them swinging up an automatic rifle the second their boots hit the ground. Scully had a faraway look on her face, but then snapped-to.

“Come on,” Scully said in a low voice, reaching out with her free hand to touch Rhonda’s shoulder. “Let’s get out of sight.”

She turned and made her way up onto the tiny stage at the rear of the room, and Rhonda followed her, ducking behind the curtains to hide themselves from view.

Rhonda swallowed thickly. “What do you need me to do?” she whispered.

“I need you to take William,” Scully said, kissing the boy’s forehead before handing him over. “And I need you to keep him close to me, no matter what.”

Rhonda nodded, her skin buzzing with fright. The soldiers outside were taking stock of their surroundings, clumping together in formation of six or eight, each tight knot of men moving in a different direction. They suspected the little family and Rhonda were here, but they didn’t know exactly where. Yet.

“You have a gun?” Scully asked her, and Rhonda once again nodded her answer. “Only use it if you have to,” the other woman went on. “We only have the clip that’s in there.”

“Okay,” Rhonda exhaled.

“Take this too,” Scully said, passing over the ketamine syringes. “Just in case. And stay hidden. I won’t let them get close to you.”

With this, she stepped out so that she could see what was going on outside, as Rhonda pushed herself and William behind the edge of the wall that ringed the dais. She could see a corner of the room; the edge of the fireplace and the door that stood next to it. She watched as Scully, without moving an inch, sent cafeteria tables and chairs flying through the air to block the doorway, silently stacking them in such a way that the soldiers wouldn’t be able to get through.

“Okay,” Scully said, shaking out her hands nervously. “Things are about to get interesting.”

A second later, Rhonda heard a high-pitched sound–almost like tinnitus–from outside the walls of the lodge. Almost immediately after, she heard several distant shouts and one quick peal of automatic weapons fire, like someone’s finger had involuntarily squeezed a trigger.

“What was that?” Rhonda asked.

Scully turned to Rhonda briefly.

“I disabled their comm system,” she said. “And hopefully blew out a few eardrums.”

Rhonda felt a nervous smile creep up her cheeks.

“Well done,” she said.

Scully shrugged. “All well and good,” she said, “but now they know for sure that we’re here.”

XxXxXxXxXxX

Mulder tore through the trees that ran parallel to the camp’s driveway as fast as his legs would carry him. The ground was frozen, but the thick layer of soft litterfall caught at his feet. He could hear the helicopters getting closer as they approached the camp behind him, but had to trust that Scully could easily handle whatever they threw at her and continued to make his way toward the lonely county road from which they’d arrived yesterday.

It didn’t sound lonely anymore. Out past the locked gate of Camp Waawaate, in the open air of the valley, came the rumble of engines, big-treaded tires growling over asphalt.

Mulder hit the tree line and skidded to a halt, his breath coming in gasps, pillars of steam in the hard, frigid air of the mountains. He had the big Smith & Wesson in his hand and pockets full of loose ammo. The gun’s grip was warm in his sweaty palm, but the shiny barrel, pointed at the ground, was as flinty and cold as the snow at the top of the pass.

There was a cloud of dust in the distance down the long arrow of road that shot past the camp, a few inches of snow not quite covering the bristly husks of grasses on either side of the berm. Mulder narrowed his eyes. There were four trucks barreling towards them, maybe five; sand-colored medium tactical vehicles with semi-open bench seating in the back—troop transport, the big diesel engines eating up the distance. The trucks wouldn’t even need to slow at the gate, they could easily plow right through it.

Mulder raised the pistol and sighted uselessly, then dropped his arm. It would be like firing sand at a concrete wall. No point in giving up his position. This was a job for Super Scully.

He closed his eyes and tried to feel for her in his head, and at first it was like an ill-tuned radio, the dial in his head spinning, but then he felt her—half with him and half not, distracted.

“ Scully-”

“ One second, Mulder ,” her voice in his head like cool water on a hot day.

“ We’re about to have company, ” Mulder said mentally.

“ We have company ,” came her voice, distracted and laggy, like an old long-distance call.

The trucks were getting closer, the big twin windshields reflecting the flat gray light of the sky. There were five of them. No, six.

“Scully.”

From the distance in the camp behind them, Mulder heard several male shouts, then the quick skitter of rapid gunfire.

“Scully!”

A moment. Mental lag, then Scully was fully in his head.

“We’re okay, Mulder,” she said, fully present. “Show me what you’re seeing.”

Mulder eased back behind a tree and looked out. The trucks were almost to the gate, and he could hear them downshifting, slowing slightly as they approached.

Suddenly, the tires on the lead vehicle, all four of them, blew out simultaneously. The truck lurched forward on its own momentum, then stopped, the truck immediately following it plowing into its back. Before Mulder could really register what was happening, the same thing happened to the third and fifth vehicles, sending the trucks behind them careening into their tails.

There was the awful sound of metal on metal as the third and sixth trucks both tipped onto their sides, and the whole mass of them went skidding to a hissing, crumpled halt twenty feet in front of the camp’s gate. Mulder ducked lower, staying as far from sight as possible, as troops began pouring out of the mess, some of them pulling injured comrades.

Not far away, Mulder could hear various shouts and voices.

“Spike strip?”

“Call medi-vac-”

“-covert. There’s no medi-vac on this op!”

“Comms are out!”

“Did it work?” came Scully’s voice amongst the shouting.

Mulder was still ducked down, unable to see much for fear of being spotted.

“I’ll say,” he answered. “Their vehicles are toast. But there are troops to deal with, Scully. Lots of them.”

He tilted his head to get a quick look. More and more men were pouring out of the wreckage of vehicles and grouping together, weapons raised. Some took a knee on the outskirts of the ruined vehicles, keeping watch for whatever enemy had just attacked them, but some were already on the move, two tight clusters of them disappearing like smoke down the driveway toward the camp.

“Scully.”

“Are there dead?” she asked. Injured?”

“Probably both.”

He could practically hear her stomach churning, could feel her unease. She’d said she could and would kill to protect their son, but First Do No Harm was a hard habit to break. These men weren’t Donnie Pfaster. They were just doing their jobs. But their job was to take William

“Scully,” he said to her gently. "These men are coming for our son. Take the gloves off. ”

If his partner cracked her knuckles, this was the moment she would have done it. He could feel it through their connection.

“Follow the ones headed for us,” she said. “Now.”

Mulder eased his way back trying to remember Indian Guide tips for walking silently through the brush. He needn’t have bothered. Once he was about fifty feet away from the treeline, there was a tremendous conflagration. Scully had blown the gas tanks on all the trucks.

Mulder tore off at once, his ears ringing, using the cover of the explosion to move through the woods and onto the driveway where he could move silently and fast. Bits of metal and other things he didn’t want to think about rained down around him.

He caught up to the two groups of troopers as he was rounding a curve with the lake just coming into sight. Several of the men whipped around and aimed their guns at him, but for nothing. The weapons they were holding, along with those of all the other combatants, went flying out of their hands and up into the high branches of the trees. A few of the quicker-reflexed men pulled out pistols from holsters, but all the pistols started going off at once, and not a single one aimed at Mulder. Several of the men were shot by their comrades as the triggers kept pulling and pulling and pulling, and those that hadn’t been quick enough to draw their weapons found their sidearms firing from their holsters, into their legs and their feet and the ground. Once the ammunition ran out, blood splatter painting their dark uniforms, combat knives came flying out of belts and into chests and Mulder didn’t have to worry about the troops on the driveway anymore.

The helicopters had moved off, but he heard droning coming from two different directions; the lake and the woods beyond the cabins. If there were boats coming in, Scully would be able to see and deal with them from the lodge. But if there were four-wheelers, or some other kind of troop transport that could bring in fighters through the trees on the other side of the camp, he would need to be her eyes and ears.

Leaving the dead behind him, he took off for the other side of campus.

XxXxXxXxXxX

The explosions of the trucks scared William. Scully’s guilt and dubious conviction over killing the soldiers coming to get them sent him into a fit of hysterics. And there were more soldiers at the door.

Rhonda was shushing the baby, Scully was trying to maintain her connection with him, which felt more and more difficult, and the troops at the doors–both doors on either end of the lodge–had already blown out the locks and were working on the tables Scully used to barricade both entrances. And Mulder was out there, unprotected, with possibly hundreds of trained commandos, all intent on his destruction or capture.

With a quailing of fright, her connection to William suddenly closed off.

When she had first discovered her ability to connect with him, when she was still trying to figure out the ins and outs of their linkage, she had told Mulder that it felt like the boy could shut her out, that it was like he’d closed a door and she was on the other side. She’d thought she was past that; their bond had come so naturally to her lately that she assumed it always would.

But the boy was frightened, her feelings had upset him, and it was all happening at the worst possible moment. And then Mulder was in her head, his words urgent, but choppy. She could connect with him outside of her mental union with William, but it was far easier with the boy’s help.

If she’d had the bandwidth for despair, she would have fallen to her knees and screamed.

Instead, she strode to Rhonda and took her son from the other woman’s arms.

Bam! Bam! Without Scully’s resistance, the fighters at the doors were making quick work of deconstructing her makeshift rampart.

Rhonda was shaking like a leaf, and Scully put a hand on the woman’s arm.

“Rhonda,” she said, her voice as serene as she could make it. “I need you to play.”

“What?!” the other woman said, equal parts frightened, dazed and confused.

In Scully’s other arm, William wasn’t wailing anymore, but he was whimpering, and Scully shushed him quietly.

“The piano,” Scully said, thinking of the way William had delighted in the music. How even Scully’s own amateurish plinking of random keys had made his powers surge back at the cabin. “I need you to play,” Scully went on. “For William.”

Rhonda gulped once and then nodded, shaken, but looking determined. She stepped off the step of the raised platform and sat quickly at the piano against the wall. The banging of the soldiers moving furniture was increasing, getting more frantic, but Scully shut out the noise and lowered herself to the floor, moving her son to her lap.

Outside the building, over the lake, the sun cut through clouds, making the sky a sudden, brilliant pink. Sunrise pink. Beach pink. Scully thought of her father, her dream. The coral edged sky, Daddy in his dress whites. Look inward , he’d said.

And as the first notes of a concerto lifted to the rafters of the lodge, as the first men began moving into the building, weapons raised, Dana Scully closed her eyes, pressed her lips to the downy head of her toddler, and went down inside herself.

XxXxXxXxXxX

Mulder had barely made it to the first cabin on the boys’ side when he encountered the first group of troopers.

They were moving up and into the cabins, searching each one two at a time, and the two coming out of the first cabin clocked him and instantly opened fire.

He dove behind a large beech tree off the dirt path and rolled quickly out to return fire, the huge gun in his hand blasting like a cannon.

“Scully!” he called to her over their connection.

He got nothing back.

Once the gun was empty, he rolled back behind the tree to reload. He could hear the other soldiers calling to each other and when he laid out more fire, the rest of the unit had come in to help, firing rapid spurts of fire at him, chewing up the tree he was behind, and peppering the ground around him, sending dirt and leaf detritus flying.

“Scullaaaaay!” he called again, peeking out at the soldiers so she could see what he was seeing.

The soldiers were moving toward him. Scully was silent.

He fired at the men, who scattered behind trees, unloading the pistol until his finger was pulling the trigger and it clicked uselessly. The men were well trained and moving in on him, fifty meters away at the most. He reloaded, spilling loose bullets into the leaves under him in his haste. He was cornered. Without Scully’s help, he was dead.

A shout. The drone of engines from the east, getting closer and closer. More troops. Something must be wrong. His insides flooded with dread, his mind with panic. And then the sound of another explosion from the direction of the lodge, the groaning of metal and yet another conflagration.

He wasted no more time. Using the distraction, he leapt to his feet and tore ass through the woods toward the lodge, using the forest as cover as the soldiers behind him reopened fire. Mulder was just cresting the rise right behind the big building where Scully, Rhonda and William were when a searing fire blazed across his arm. He’d been hit. He ran on anyway.

Ahead of him, the door of the lodge was wide open, a gaping maw. And then, from the lake, another cacophony. Mulder looked over and watched as a helicopter tilted and fell out of the sky and into a hard-bottomed inflatable troop carrier.

Scully, he thought, and flew into the open door of the lodge.

XxXxXxXxXxX

When the explosions started, Rhonda Fitzsimmons began questioning every choice she’d made in her life that had led to this moment. And then remembered that most of the things that had happened to her, that had propelled her to here, now, had been choices made for her. The death of her parents at the hands of an angry mob, half of them hiding behind white sheets. The loneliness and confusion of being shipped to the cold mountains of the west, to the care of a loving, but unfamiliar uncle. Those were not things she’d chosen. They were things she’d been a victim of. And she had decided, when she offered to help this small family, that her days of being a victim were over.

And so, despite the baby in her arms crying, despite men with guns darting by the windows and trying to get in, despite the distant gunfire and the terrifying knowledge that there was very little in her control, when Scully asked her to play the little piano in the corner, Rhonda did it. It was the only thing Rhonda could do that no one else could. And she had seen how it had helped the child in the past.

Her back to the lodge, to the confusion and the sound and the shouts and the shots, with a gun tucked into her pants and a capped syringe of ketamine sticking out of her back pocket, Rhonda played the piano as she had never played it before.

She played her grief. She played her fear. She played the chaos and the noise and the love of the family she was helping. She played herself; the strongest, most resilient version. She played it all.

#the x-files #fanfic #my fic #msr #wip #three part harmony #family fic #but not fluff

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