no silver flying cars

scully-loves-ruthie  asked:

I love how your tag is not drunk lol. So what are your hopes and dreams for season 11?

I want William to be a snowboarder.  

I want William to appear and be well-written into the background.

I want the writers to not dismiss the fact they left the entire world plagued by pandemic, but that’s not going to happen.

I want a really fucking hot car chase in a silver Mustang with Mulder flying through streets to get his girl.  

I want Scully to beat the shit out of some guy near the unremarkable house.

I want fanfic writers to stop calling it the unremarkable house.

I want people to enjoy Brilson (Or is it Brelson) without drama.  

I want folks to go outside and breath fresh air and remember that even if the season sucks we get to flail about it together.

I want the season not to suck.

I want Mulder’s hair to be David’s Hell or High Water tour hair.  

I want Brick to lick my face.

But mostly.  For the love of fucking God.  I want Scully to get that dick.  And I want there to be clear implications that it happened.

Whiteout

“Whiteout”

My [very late] contribution to SwanQueenWeek.

A student/teacher SQ AU. Regina is Emma’s college professor and Emma’s got a wicked crush. ;)

Rated M for language and smut.

Words: ~9,600

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“Oh come on Emma! You have to pick one!” August slurs from the backseat.

“Yeah! Seriously Emma, what’s the big deal? We all said ours!” Ruby chimes in from the passenger side.

Emma rolls her eyes in irritation. I am never volunteering to be the designated driver ever again, she vows silently to herself. She loves her friends, but for the last twenty minutes they have been having the most inane conversations. This new game is just as ridiculous as the “if you had to be a vegetable, what would you be?” question.

“I know why she won’t say.” Graham offers from his place next to August. Ruby and August turn to look at him as if he were about to deliver the meaning of life. Even Emma steals a glance at him in the rearview mirror wondering if he really knows. “She’s still not over me.” He explains confidently with his stubble-covered chin jutting in the air.

The rest of the passengers ring out in a chorus of disbelief and hysterical laughter.  

“You wish man!” August says playfully with a light shove to his best friend’s shoulder. “Everyone knows she dumped your ass like five minutes into Freshman year!” He continues with boisterous amusement.

The immediate blush that explodes over Graham’s face makes Emma wince. It’s true she had broken up with him almost as soon as they’d gotten to college. They had been dating since they were kids and Emma was ready for something new. She wanted to grow and come into her own, and tied to her eighth grade boyfriend wasn’t the way to do that.

“Whatever.” Graham grumbles under his breath wishing the bottom would fall out of the cramped Volkswagen letting him disappear. 

“Anyway, that was like three years ago! Ancient history. Fess up Emma! If you had a gun to your head and you had to bone one of your professors to stay alive, who would you pick?” Ruby asks her question again and waits expectantly for her best friend to respond.

“This is so dumb! Who cares? When the hell is some deranged kidnapper going to hold me captive with a gun demanding I have sex with a professor to save my life?!” Emma is completely exasperated. They are only a few streets away from the apartment the boys share, but the ride has grown eternal.

 “Since when are you such a stick in the mud?!” Ruby asks equally frustrated by Emma’s refusal to play along. Each of them had confessed their faculty choice. Even Ruby, whose crush was a sixty-five year old Egyptologist from the archeology department, had answered the question. August and Graham had both picked Professor Mills, but that was hardly a surprise. Ruby can’t figure out why Emma is so reticent on this issue. 

“Come on Emma! Out with it!” August pokes Emma’s arm as if physically nudging her might prompt a response.

After several minutes of nonstop harassment and catching every red light in Boston, Emma cracks like Humpty Dumpty taking a nosedive off the wall.

“Fine! I’d pick Professor Mills! Are you happy?!” Emma confesses while slamming on the brakes at the stop sign just before August and Graham’s apartment. The raucous laughter and teasing die immediately and the trio is left speechlessly staring at a beet red Emma. 

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