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carefulfears · 8 months

Note

top 5 (or 10 if you have em) scully taking care of mulder moments <3

she said IF i have 10 😭😭😭

1/ sein und zeit

i fear i have talked about this television scene more times than anyone has ever talked about a television scene....like. one, two, three, four, i was even foolishly invited onto a podcast to talk about it more...

my tags here:

she gets down on the Ground. there's something so primal about it. there's such a lack of pretense and sense of desperation about it. the way he hits the table. we so Rarely see him lash out like that. but it's just too much to Bear. like everything in him is just Breaking the only thing that he's even remotely been able to hold onto amidst all of the unbearable loss and trauma in his life has failed. he's fumbling around for anything that might make it better. that audries fic describing him in this moment as an 'addict out of a fix' with 'newborn anger.' “this is the world? this is it?” it's the way that he spends this whole ep cooking up some elaborate mythology about missing children and how they can be found and then the last shot of the episode is that wide shot of all of the children's graves. sometimes he's just wrong. the world is so much fucking darker and uglier sometimes than the way he sees it. and that's what is crashing down around him in this moment. and she's sitting in the wreckage holding him tight.

this is such brave, brave love. i keep thinking about CSM in the following episode, standing in scully's apartment, warning her. "allow him his ignorance, it's what gives him hope."

she doesn't know what will happen to him, to her, to them, when she breaks down the only method of coping that he has. his mother lost her bedrock too, and she didn't survive. from the moment scully enters, you can watch it break her. she does it anyway. she gets down on the ground, and she cries, and she holds him. god, it all just would've been so different, if there'd been just 1 person, 27 years ago.

(thinking about mulder reaching up to hold scully when missy died, and these tags asking: did anyone hold him, when it was his sister?)

i love the show's message on grief (and trauma), in that this is all that is necessary for "closure." there is no "Truth," (and there really isn't any closure, there's no "beyond" the sea). but it matters that someone knows. it matters that someone bears witness. it matters that someone tells you the truth, even when it fucking breaks their heart. sits in the destruction with you.

the exhaustion in her voice the next morning, when she tells skinner, "it's been a hard night for him." she's still wearing her work clothes from the day before. she was up all night. she's tired, and she's scared, and she's sad. it's been a hard 7 years. it's been a hard 27 years.

it makes me tear up every time i see it, the way she blocks him in the doorway. she's not moving. this is just so scully. it's not even starbuck, it's just so scully. she would keep him in that apartment where she could cover him and control what touches him forever, if she could. (she can't, so you're not taking him anywhere without her. the way she looks her boss in the eye and tells him he better book her a flight too. brave love.)

2/ demons

god, this one just makes me sad. this might be the one that makes me saddest. she's dying. she doesn't have it in her, anymore. i talked about this in my newsletter (and i wrote a fic about it once) but this is like...the only time where she never calls him out on what he's doing. she never yells. she never rolls her eyes. she never gets frustrated with him. she doesn't have it in her. she's dying. he will be alone. she won't be here the next time. what can she even do about it?

i always think about this post:

and you know she is thinking about how if she hadn’t been there he would’ve died. and how the next time he does something like this, she won’t have enough life left in her to keep them both alive. she might not even have enough left for herself. and she’ll give whatever she does have left to him, but it won’t be enough to save either of them. she’ll die cold and pale and he’ll burn himself out. and what can she do but hold him? who will he have when she’s gone? what will he do to himself? who will he call?

and these tags:

this is so cautious and tender and apologetic. sorry for all the pain he feels constantly. and sorry that nothing can ease it. and sorry that she is dying and leaving him like this.

she started writing to him as soon as she was diagnosed, begging. begging forgiveness, begging courage, begging grace. begging for him to not feel there was anything more he could've done, to not become the next cause he is lost in. for him to keep going, as she needs to know he's "out there."

but she's seen him hold a gun to himself too many times, and she knows he's coming down with her. and it's such a loss? this is a person she gave up everything, including her life, to follow, because she believed in him and what he wanted to do in the world that much. but things are different now. he won't survive this. he won't be "out there" saving the world.

what can she do? go to rhode island at 5am, wrap him up. stay quiet, stay still, but scream and thrash at anyone who's careless with him. sink down next to him, cover him, hold him. "maybe we need every answer in the world to survive a single question: how long do we have each other?" (x)

(also, her memento mori journal, in general. she sat in that hospital alone, for days, knowing she was going to die. and she wrote letter, after letter, after letter, to him. so that he would have something. so that he wouldn’t be left alone with nothing, again.)

3/ the end

"as mulder appears. the look on his face is of a man who's seeing, smelling, and tasting the loss of everything he has worked for. it's the look of utter defeat. angle on scully at the door. she sees only mulder right now...she moves to him now. putting her arms around him, holding on to keep him from breaking. off this, we fade out. the end." (script)

i think so often about the script notes of this scene. the description of mulder, as absorbed in destruction. everything that he's worked for, literally reduced to (cigarette) ash. scully only focused on him.

in the final angle of the season, you can really see how she's standing in front of him. her fingers clutching him. but when she first grabs him, it's so tentative. it almost feels like she's trying to see if he's still there, if he exists, if his work doesn't.

this is...the whole thing! there's a reason why this was "the end." the final image of this iteration of the series, before everything changes. this is what it is all about. it's mulder walking headfirst into the devastation of the world. drenched in loss. seeing it. smelling it. tasting it. surrounded by it. and it's scully knowing what he'll find even as he's still moving (this script note, from the hallway: "reverse on scully. returning the look. knowing what mulder is going to find. and what it will mean.")

following behind. eyes on him, while he takes in the ash. just holding on for dear life; trying to keep him close, whole.

(also, i love the moment before the fire, at his apartment, after diana was shot. the way scully tells skinner that he can reach her at mulder's if he needs her, because that's where she'll be. he doesn't even have a bed, or anywhere for her to stay!! she's not leaving him.)

4/ paper hearts

oh, starbuck. we are really in it now.

paper hearts is an ahab and starbuck episode, yes. but mostly it's about grief. mostly it's about harsh awakenings. mostly it's about confrontation with fear, scully's included.

one of the most haunting moments of the series, to me, is when they speak to the father of the 14th victim, twenty-one years after his daughter went missing. and through tears, the father says, "i used to think...that missing was worse than dead, because...you never knew what happened. now that i know, i'm glad my wife's not here. she got luckier."

in that moment, as mulder looks over at the photos on the mantle, missing is not worse than dead. it is not worse than knowing. and later that day, in his first scene, roche calls it exactly as it is: "i understand you take this very personally, mulder."

i've written about this scene in the hallway so many times, because it's truly the crux of this episode (my favorite episode).

from my newsletter:

There’s something so viscerally deep about this episode that’s hard to put into words, but to me, it is most palpable in the moment in the hallway when Mulder asks Scully if she believes that his sister was abducted by aliens. And you can see in his face that he knows the answer, and he’s challenging her to come out and say it. You can see in Scully’s that she would rather admit to anything else.

he's challenging her. he's taking their entire dynamic, and throwing it in her face. not to be cruel. not to disrupt. but just to say...so what now? isn't this what you believe?

i don't think that they've ever been so fragile, as in this hallway, honestly. they rarely threaten to break it all down. their entire lives are built on him walking up to tragedy and saying: it was aliens. it was XYZ. and her following behind saying: no. it was a killer, it was a man.

what does that mean? what is she really saying?

this episode is hard on scully. mulder has never been more haunted. there has never been a bigger reminder of what they are actually doing. they are not just chasing little green men, having adventures, studying sewer worms. they are trying to make sense of something that will never make sense. they are trying to find a "truth" that they do not want to know. they are living their lives in mourning, in bereavement, in remembrance, of a missing little girl, and scully is terrified that they'll find her. that it will be exactly like roche threatens. that missing is not worse than dead.

and there is no one else. there is no one else that even knows how haunted he is. how stuck he is, in that childhood bedroom, like he said all those years ago. how deeply sad it is.

it's all of the little things. it's the "you did good work, mulder" in the beginning. it's the way she asks if he's okay to go tell the 14th victim's family. it's way she exclaims "oh my god" when roche says that he just wants to see mulder's face, when he finds samantha's body. one of the few times that we ever see scully lose control, but she just stands up and screams, opens the door and wordlessly waits for mulder to get up and get out of there.

it's the way that she hears "help me, scully" and digs in the dirt, with her bare hands.

(you can tell in his eyes here that he's been crying, and it really gets to me. there's so much that we don't see.)

in the end, they're back in the basement. nothing left but one scrap of tattered fabric, one more lost failure. it's over. she just comes down to check on him.

the progression of scully's face in this last scene is just unbelievably gut-wrenching to me. her smile, when she tells him to get some sleep, and he laughs. the way it disappears when he holds her, and can't see her anymore. with his mother, flashing that smile and hugging her was all that it took to convince her not to worry. when he repeats the same actions with scully, she looks like she could break.

this post:

Episodes like this make me think how alone - not just lonely, but truly alone - Mulder was before her. Nobody lost sleep over him falling apart under the fist of decades old trauma. Nobody grappled with him, let him wrestle his grief against them, and still stayed. Nobody visited him in the hospital, flew to Alaska, lied for him, stayed by his bed for days straight without an extra change of clothes. Nobody else knew he was suffering or wanted to, knew it more than he knew. That end of Paper hearts where she tells him to get some sleep, he laughs at the ridiculousness of it, but also out of incredulity at having someone to wish for better on his behalf. The heartbroken look on her face as he’s laughing into her waist seems to be her coming to the same realisation; “Who looked after you before? How long did you feel like this on your own?”

she is heartbroken. there is so much grief, in being starbuck. there's grief in being needed. there's grief in following ghosts. there's grief in loving someone who is so encased in pain, in loss. he will not go home and get some sleep. a well-placed joke, that smile, a hug, does not convince her that he's okay. he hurts so much, for so long, and he has one person who knows it. and all they do is keep moving: closer and closer to that breaking point that she is so afraid of, and they can't stop.

5/ redux ii

remember when dana scully lied on her death bed and looked up at mulder as he told her that he was not willing to jeopardize skinner to save himself, and she replied, "well, then, you have to lay it on me."

the way he smiles and shakes his head, chokes out "i can't...i can't do that." through tears...they are so kind to each other. all that she has left in the world is her reputation, and she says: take it. take it all. take everything.

she cries when he won't do it.

6/ herrenvolk

okay, i wanna get into some slightly lighter ones, so y'all remember when she nearly fully knocked skinner into the wall, because mulder came in with a (checks notes) scratch on his face?

this is just so scully.

she is so panicked. she just wants to slow him down, to stand between him and the world for even one moment longer.

these tags:

she's almost begging him not to go in. the extent of her worry is heartbreaking. she loves him. it frightens her to know what awaits him.

one of the biggest conflicts of scully's character is that she just cannot stop him, she cannot shield him, she cannot protect him. the way she leans up here, and pulls him to her shoulder. covers him with a blanket. this is what she can do.

there is so much grief in being starbuck!! in loving someone who walks blindly into a world that you do not trust. in following someone into the worst night of their life: over, over, over. years, years, years. in being first mate, holding the responsibility on your shoulders of having to steer in a safe direction, only having one to choose from.

(i also think it's really special, all of the little moments where she checks in. in the previous episode, in the hospital hallway, the way she says "are you okay?" so softly.

in paper clip, when she makes him stop, and says "no, wait, hold on a second...i don't think you've had time to process everything that you've been through."

remnants of the girl who told him she'll cover for him and he should just go get a beer, take some time for himself, after jersey. who suggested he talk to someone, when jerry lamana died. she's always wanted so much for him, but she understands more now. there's still room to pause, for a moment, before he carries on.)

7/ anasazi

ladies, would you shoot your man with a gun, to keep him from endangering himself, while he was being laced with LSD, and then drag him across the country singlehandedly, while he was unconscious, despite him being twice your size? and this, too, is taking care.

the way she says, "i was certain they would have killed you, mulder." and the fear in her voice, his hand on her knee. (she is so young. she really doesn't know what to do, not as often as she seems like she does). the way he says, "thank you. thank you for taking care of me." they are so kind to each other. it'll break your fucking heart.

(i remember asking y'all a few weeks ago, if mulder and scully ever say "i'm sorry," if they ever apologize to each other. and we came up with a couple of times. i'll tell you what, though: not as often as they say "thank you.")

8/ fire

girlbosses when they singlehandedly solve serial murders, to get their best friend's shitty ex away from them!!! okay, i put this one on here because we were talking about it yesterday, but scully really does handle the entire situation with phoebe so perfectly, and that's hard to do, when you're dealing with friends and abusers.

trish, i loved this part of your post yesterday:

scully gives him the space to talk about it, never says too much but she says enough. her phrasing is SO important. she repeats what he just told her in a way that frames it as wrong.

she's a little rabid, lol. we can see it on her face when she's alone, or when mulder's not looking. but around him (around phoebe too) she's calm. she listens, she addresses what he tells her as bad, without pressing. when he tells her that she's off the case, that he doesn't want to expose her to what phoebe is doing, she asks one time: are you sure you don't want help?

he says yes, and she does it anyway. she catches that fucking murderer so that this woman can go home. just, like, an inspiration to us all.

trish's tweet:

really, truly, genuinely. scully solving the case in fire was the absolute best course of action she could have taken. get that woman out of here, an ocean away from mulder. (give him freedom, let him heal, teach him what real love feels like)

(her eyes locked in on him here, phoebe behind her. the way that when phoebe leaves the room, scully says, "you alright?" instantly.)

meeting phoebe just a few months into their partnership made her so fucking crazy like...i make fun of her for being sick in the head in regards to everyone he meets (men and women alike) and never wanting anyone around him other than her but like, my god, can you blame her!!! he's such a gentle person and people are so cruel and it makes her eyes bug out of her head.

yeah, i really don't have much else to say here, you guys. she solved a murder herself, a case that she wasn't even supposed to be working, so that his old gf would go away and stop being mean to him. she doesn't play!!

(also! while we're on the subject of abusive exes, honorable mention to scully cornering diana into an empty room and telling her to "just think" about who mulder is, who he was when she met him, compared to where he is now. "and then try and stand there in front of me. look me in the eye. and tell me mulder wouldn't bust his ass trying to save you.")

9/ deadalive

oh, you guys remember that time she raised him from the dead, right?

scully at 8 months pregnant, sitting in that hospital chair, holding his hand, for days. knowing he can’t feel it, knowing that there’s nothing that says he’ll ever wake up. that it’s impossible. that there is no science…yeah. she just sits there and holds his hand.

i love the moment when she finds out, and she comes barreling through that hallway. she hits skinner first, and starts yelling, “i want to see him. no, i need to see him,�� slams her fists into his chest.

then she moves onto doggett. repeats, “i need to see him” through tears. and the way doggett says… “i know. but i wish you wouldn’t.”

she’s loved. they want to protect her, protect her image of mulder as she knew him. but they also both know she will fucking plow them down.

i always think of this fic and feel so ill:

“I pulled you six feet out of the ground,” she whispers, dangerously low. “Because I couldn’t live without you. I gave birth to your child.”

she fed his fish while he was in a casket. she planned a funeral and decorated a nursery alone, at the same time. she ran herself ragged all over the country, trying to keep his work going. she raised him from the dead.

(i also feel that i can throw in here, as related, the time that she busted him out of prison and then abandoned everything in her entire life including her career, her family, and everything she owns, to go on the run from the law and live secretly in seedy motels for years to be with him.)

10/ fight the future

there are too many contenders for my last spot, so i’m gonna keep it simple, and go with the most special movie moment. (of all movies).

from my newsletter:

“Mulder watches the spaceship as it flies overhead, his face glows with a heart-melting grin of childlike wonder and awe.”(x)

That’s exactly what it feels like to me, it’s an innocence and excitement that was so present in season one, that was all over him when he told Scully to come look in the second episode, but that’s rare to see in the later seasons. It’s rare to see at this point in their story, after all that’s happened. They are stranded in Antarctica, both of them injured, both of them freezing in the cold, and they are holding each other and gazing up at the sky. What a perfect thing in their big momentous feature, to bring it all back to what it started with.

there’s such a reverent sentimentality to it, in the simplicity. she had stopped breathing, a few minutes earlier. but when he passes out, she pulls herself up, and grabs onto him. keeps him alive, keeps them both alive, just by holding him close. that’s really the heart of it.

(also, i find it so moving that this film is the only time in the franchise that scully considers leaving, not working with him anymore, and it’s because she thinks she’s not good for him. that she’s holding him back. she never considers him as anything other than wanted, something worth believing in.)

some honorable mentions to: little green men, which i’ve written about here. (especially her secret-signaling him to their secret meet-up place, just to ask if he’s okay). the erlenmeyer flask, which i’ve talked about here. (she literally stops him in the street to tell him that she should have listened to him, and she’s sorry, because she should have trusted his instincts. that means so much, you guys). her telling colton she hopes he falls on his ass after he was making rude comments about mulder in squeeze, screaming at a serial killer that she’ll gas him into hell herself and no one will stop her, if mulder isn’t okay, in beyond the sea….she has threatened and shouted at and smacked around so many people for fucking with him, and this too is care!! (anger meaning you’re worth being angry over, etc etc)

how desperately she became frantic to find their son, after 17 years resigned to never ever looking for him, never ever endangering him that way…because she became convinced that it’s the only thing that would help mulder.

and how important samantha is to her. it matters. it matters, that sam is remembered. that someone else in the world knows. someone knows that they played baseball in the summers, that they fought over the television, that he’s looked for her in every room he’s ever been in. someone else cares about her; not as a white whale, not as a photo on a desk, as a little girl who broke her collarbone because she played on swings too hard. scully listened to her journal, and cried. listened to how much she suffered. how much she just wanted to see her big brother. (scully kept a journal like that, too, once. underwent those same tests. almost died at the hands of those same men. wrote her testimony to that same person.) it’s taking care of mulder, to love samantha. and she does.

#i got really really tired by the end but it is what it is #i want y'all to know #that i almost put 'trust no 1' on here #the way that she yells at doggett that she wants to see mulder 'SO BAD'#but in the end: writes to him that she just wants him to be okay even if she can't see him or hear from him #or even if he can't read what she sends him #and the way that she looks over at william in the stroller and puts her hand on his face #just like...that one semblance of mulder that she still has in her life and that she holds onto- in this baby #and he's growing up without his dad and she NEVER wanted that.#and mulder is writing to her that he just wants to come home to her and to will.#and how her voice shakes and she screams when she talks about how badly she just needs to see him. she feels so alone.#and there are only so many solar system onesies and star mobiles and lullabies from the florida woods that she can give #but ultimately she just wants him to be safe and alive and that's what she tells him and that's what she fights for with everyone else #but it's just so fucking unbearably sad and i couldnt do it after the first few i put on here ksjdfk #i would also say!! that her leaving him post-iwtb and their break-up was in a way taking care of him #getting the fuck out of that house. trying to save herself from that trap of grief.#then coming back when it was less haunted and he was healthier and it was able to be their home again #refusing to suffocate there just because he was. salvaging SOMETHING for him to come back to- and ALWAYS being available for that.#asks #sein und zeit #demons #the end #paper hearts #redux ii #herrenvolk #anasazi #fire #deadalive #ftf

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numinousmysteries · 5 months

Text

Fool's Gold

@eightnightsofmulder

@today-in-fic

Eight Nights of Mulder Day 1: Gold

[on Ao3]

December 1993

Mulder is off visiting his mother for Hanukkah and it’s quiet in the office. Scully uses the downtime to familiarize herself with some of his older cases. She’s tempted to reorganize the files but she assumes they’re arranged by a logic only Mulder understands. She, however, cannot decode it. It’s not alphabetical, geographical, or thematic but she’s never seen him struggle to find anything so she leaves them be. The filing cabinets smell like old books, stale coffee, and him.

She’s still a little surprised she didn’t find out Mulder was Jewish until nearly a year into their partnership. Granted, he doesn’t wear a symbol of his faith around his neck like she does and he explained that he’s Jewish more in heritage than in practice. Besides, he told her, he was really leaving town to avoid having his paycheck docked for failing to take any vacation time in the past four years. The year-end deadline just happened to coincide with the holiday so he thought he’d make his mother happy and spend it with her.

Their partnership is odd like that. It’s so intimate at times while, in many ways, he still feels like a stranger. She trusts him with her life, but knows so few details about his past or who he is when they’re off the clock. When she told her sister about her new partner, Missy grilled her: Is he good looking? (Conventionally, sure, you could say that). Does he have a girlfriend? (If he does, she must have the patience of a saint). Would you hook up with him? (That one just got a conversation-ending eyebrow raise).

The office is sepulchral without their usual verbal volley of theories and retorts. Free of his frenetic energy, the space feels like it’s lost its electric charge. It’s like walking into a room knowing the party has already dispersed. His scent has fully permeated the air, warm and musky, as if it’s a skin he’s recently shed. Sitting in his chair, she feels like a child playing pretend. His warmth is long gone from the fabric but it still holds his shape.

It’s her office, too, but it doesn’t feel like it. She has no desk, no name plate, no personal items of her own to pair with his old awards, family photos, and news clippings. It’s as if this is his life and she’s just passing through. Part of her wants to make her mark, to leave something of herself in their basement lair, but she also fears doing so would forever bind her to this place. During her first case on the X-Files she felt like a visitor in a strange land, but each day finds her tip-toeing closer and closer into Mulder’s world—if not his life.

She’s reading a case file from 1991 about a boy in Tennessee who Mulder believed was possessed by the spirit of his great-great grandfather when she notices a second signature alongside Mulder’s in the case report: Diana Fowley. Next to Mulder’s staccato, detached scrawl, Fowley’s signature is all sensuous curves, looping letters smoothly linked together. Scully locates a few other files from the same year and sees the same name.

It doesn’t shock her that Mulder had a partner before her. It’s standard FBI protocol for all field agents to have one. But she is surprised that he never mentioned her before. Was Diana sent to debunk Mulder’s work like she was? Or was she a fellow believer? Did she make the basement her home as well?

Scully’s curiosity gets the better of her and she picks up the phone.

“Holly? Hi, it’s Dana Scully. Agent Mulder is out and I had a question about an old case of his so I was hoping I could speak to his previous partner. Her name is Diana Fowley. Do you think you could find her extension for me?”

“Sure, Dana, no problem,” Holly says on the other end of the line.

Scully hears Holly clacking at the keys on her computer over the phone. She immediately feels embarrassed. Would she be snooping around like this if Mulder’s old partner was a man?

“Hi Dana,” Holly says finally. “It looks like Agent Fowley is currently stationed in Berlin in the counterterrorism unit. Do you want me to connect you to her office?”

“No, that’s fine,” Scully demurs. “It’s after working hours on her time. I’ll probably figure this out on my own anyway. Thank you, though.”

“Anytime,” Holly says and hangs up the phone.

Counterterrorism? It doesn’t seem like a natural stepping stone after working on the X-Files. Scully tries to resume her work but that name keeps appearing and taunting her.

She’s flipping through a file for a case on a murderous Loch Ness-esque monster spotted in Lake Erie when she sees a photo paper-clipped to a crime scene report.

In the photo, Mulder is walking around the shores of a marshy lake with a tall, brunette woman a few paces ahead of him. Scully can’t deny the woman is pretty. She has strong features and wears a fitted skirt suit that clings to her feminine frame. Her dark hair is perfectly in place, the way Scully wishes hers looked out on assignment when it instead typically devolved into a halo of frizz. She looks like a woman—while Scully sometimes feels like a girl playing dress-up in the boxy pantsuits she bought, believing they’d make her look more professional. Instead of acting as sartorial armor, though, she fears her outfits just make her look small and sexless.

Then, she sees it. On Mulder’s left ring finger there’s a gold band, shining in the sunlight. And on Diana’s: a matching one.

It’s possible Diana had a husband at home, but Mulder? It doesn’t make any sense. Scully reviewed his personnel files when she was first assigned to work with him and he’s never been married.

After an hour of struggling to focus on work and pacing around the office she decides to take her research to some more unofficial channels.

****

“Agent Scully, what a pleasant surprise,” Frohike says as he welcomes her into the Lone Gunmen HQ, bolting the door shut behind her.

“To what do we owe the pleasure?” Byers chimes in.

“Yeah,” adds Langly. “Didn’t expect to see you while Mulder’s out of town.”

“Who is Diana Fowley?” she blurts out. She spent the drive over concocting a plausible backstory for her question but once she arrives, she’s too anxious for answers.

The three men look at each other silently for a moment and Scully’s heartbeat accelerates.

“She was Mulder’s chickadee when he just got out of the Academy,” Frohike says, looking down and avoiding eye contact with her. “Good-looking.”

“She was there when he discovered the X-Files. She has a background in para-science,” says Langly.

“But she got a legat appointment abroad and they split up,” says Byers.

“Were they married?” She asks.

“Not officially,” says Frohike. “But Diana was a little ... possessive of Mulder. She made him wear a ring.”

“It was actually kind of romantic,” Byers says.

“Oh come on, man,” Langly snipes. “He was totally whipped.”

“It was complicated,” Frohike says, splitting the difference.

Scully bites her bottom lip. “I need to go. I’d appreciate if you didn’t tell Mulder about this.”

“Your secret’s safe with us, Agent Scully. I’ll walk you to your car,” says Frohike, standing to meet her.

“That’s totally unnecessary,” she says.

“You can never be too careful,” he replies.

Scully wants to protest that she’s carrying a gun and is inarguably in better fighting shape than this short, balding man, but she just smiles and nods.

She’s about to unlock her car when Frohike says, “Listen Scully, no matter what you hear about Diana I want you to know you have nothing to worry about.”

“Excuse me?” She asks, taken aback.

“Even if you and Mulder don’t have that type of relationship, I can assure you we’re all much happier to see him with you than Diana. There was a lot of passion there, but also a lot of mind-fuckery. I don’t think she always had his best interests at heart.”

“Frohike, that’s alright, my curiosity was purely professional,” she says.

“Sure,” Frohike nods. “But trust me, I can tell from the way he talks about you that you two have a good thing going whether that’s just as partners or something…more. It’s a lot more significant than a fake gold ring, anyway.”

She looks at him quizzically.

“What? We obviously analyzed it. Had to make sure it wasn’t a device she was using to track our boy. Didn’t find anything nefarious, but didn’t find any real gold, either. Totally hollow inside, just like the woman who gave it to him.”

“Thank you, Frohike,” she says.

“Get home safe.”

In the rearview mirror, Scully sees Frohike waiting at the door to the Gunmen’s heavily protected fortress as one of the other two lets him in. Then she watches as his small form disappears inside and the door shuts behind him. She smiles to herself as she drives away.

#eightnightsofmulder #eightdaysofmulder #8dom #xfiles #xf fanfic #xfiles fanfic #txf

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baronessblixen · 5 months

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Christmas Cookies For The Soul

Day five: homemade goodies

I'm doing the 24 Days of X-Mas Files Challenge that msrafterdark posted!

Summary: When Mulder doesn't answer his phone, all Scully can do is show up at his apartment to find out what's going on. (season 2, developing relationship/friendship, hurt/comfort; wc: 910)

Tagging @today-in-fic

If Mulder had picked up his phone, she wouldn’t have felt the need to show up at his place. She hasn’t heard from him in over 24 hours and as much as she tries to remind herself that he’s a grown man, she can’t help but be curious. She’s not worried. Or maybe she is a little bit.

He said he doesn’t have plans for Christmas and she almost invited him to her mother’s. Then she changed her mind. It’s not that she doesn’t like the idea of spending Christmas with Mulder. But this is their first year without Ahab. Both her brothers will be there, and Missy.

None of them are saying it, but Scully knows they’re all going to be there because she almost wasn’t. Her abduction is a sore topic for everyone and they avoid it at all costs. Having Mulder there would make things more complicated.

It takes Mulder so long to open the door that for a moment she wonders if he’s even home. When his head peeks through, his eyes look small and his nose is slightly swollen and red. She immediately changes into doctor’s mode, all her alarm clocks going off.

“Mulder, are you okay?”

“What are you doing here?” His voice sounds sleepy and nasal. “I thought you were spending Christmas at your mother’s.”

“I am,” she says. “You didn’t answer your phone and I- I wanted to wish you a Merry Christmas before I left. I haven’t heard from you in over a day.” Now that the words are out, she realizes how ridiculous they sound. Ever since her abduction, they’ve talked almost daily. Whether during the week or on the rare weekends that they don't have a case. Not hearing from Mulder is never a good sign. Seeing him like this only proves it.

“I’m fine,” he says, but doesn’t sound like it at all. “Thank you for checking on me.”

“Do you have everything you need?” She glances past him but the apartment is dark. He was probably sleeping – or trying to – when she knocked on his door. “I still have some time. I could get you-” He laughs softly and then smiles, disarming her.

“I have everything I need, Doc.”

“Are you sure? You still have the Tylenol I gave you the other day, right? Tea, Mulder? You need to drink lots of fluids. You know, maybe I should call my mother and call this whole thing off.”

“Scully, I appreciate your concern, and I consider you a brilliant doctor, but even you can’t cure the common cold. Now go, before you catch it, too.” She knows he’s right but that doesn’t make leaving him any easier.

“I’ll call you,” she warns him. “Every day. Okay?” He laughs again and it turns into a coughing fit. Scully pats his back gently and once he’s calmed down, presses the back of her hand against his forehead. Way too warm for her liking. “You get some rest, all right? And answer your phone or I’ll show up here again.”

“Got it, Doc.”

There’s nothing more to say or do, and yet, she’s standing there, staring at him. Can she really leave him like this? What would her mother do? That’s when she remembers the sugar cookies she made that are waiting in the car. All four kids were told to bring a dessert and Scully had decided to make her grandmother’s famous sugar cookies. She’ll have to show up empty-handed but her decision is made.

“I have something for you,” she says, smiling at him. “I’ll be right back.”

“I’m not leaving.” She feels Mulder watch her as she hurries down the stairs to her car, unwilling to wait for the elevator. The cookies are in the trunk, in a box her mother lent her ages ago that she meant to return tonight. Knowing how much her mother likes Mulder, she thinks she’ll understand. When she returns, Mulder is still in the exact same place she left him.

“Here,” she says, handing him the box. “These are for you.” Mulder opens it and lifts her eyes to hers. She can’t tell if he’s touched by her gesture or if his eyes are glassy from his fever.

“Thank you, Scully. They look delicious.”

“I made them last night,” she explains. “It’s my grandmother’s recipe. We always fought over who got to lick the dough when she made them. Then we fought over who got to try the first, warm cookie.” She shakes her head, trying not to lose herself in the memory.

“Let me guess: you won.”

“Sometimes,” she says with a smile. “I hope you like them. Merry Christmas, Mulder.”

“I know I’ll love them.” He picks out a heart-shaped sugar cookie and stuffs it into his mouth. “I was right,” he says with his mouth full. “Tell your mom hi from me, okay?”

“I will. And you answer your phone.” It’s an order and he nods. “You’ll be fine?” She just has to ask him one more time.

“I’ll be fine. I have these cookies to keep me company. Now go. I don’t want you to catch this cold and miss out on Christmas.”

She considers hugging him but decides against it. Instead, she gives him a small nod and he smiles at her in return. As she leaves, feeling his eyes on her back, she realizes she’ll miss him. That’s something she’ll have to think about another day.

#ficmas2023 #mulder got to be sick today cause i am too #not as fluffy as previous stories #msr #xf fanfic #my writing #my fic

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frangipanidownunder · 1 year

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Today

Rating G, pure fluff, post revival.

Thanks to @txf-fic-chicks-blog for asking me to join this fun nostalgia trip. I had fun writing my loves again!

She studies the box. It’s small, perfectly square, wrapped in thick white glossy paper with a cream bow decorating the top. Intriguing. Terrifying. It doesn’t take an FBI agent to deduce jewellery of some kind. Earrings? A ring? But what for? She checks her cell-phone. It’s the 28th of March. Her memory is sharp but the date means nothing. Not their first case. Not their first date. Not their first kiss. Not their marriage. Not their separation. Not William’s birthday. Not Emily’s. Not Skinner’s. A death? Emily. Missy. Maggie. The Gunmen? Too many to linger. And still her mind is blank.

“Do you give in, Scully?”

He’s smirking in his chair. Silvery streaks in his hair and scruff temporarily draw her gaze from the box in her hand to remind her of their age, of the decades they’ve spent together, apart, working, protecting, mourning, laughing, fighting, debating. And loving each other. Still. Always.

“Tell me again why you’re giving me this, Mulder.” She tries for playful but it sounds querulous. Like when a case has got to the point where he’s about to tell her it’s aliens and she points out that the science doesn’t support his theory and he grins and shrugs and she tries to ignore the worrisome niggle in her gut and hopes something rational turns up.

“Just because,” he says, leaning forward so she can smell his cologne and see the same old testing sparkles in his eyes. “Open it.”

“But I haven’t got anything for you to celebrate…” she flaps her hand in the air, “whatever it is we’re celebrating.”

“I never give to receive, Scully. Surely you know that by now.” The smile oozes across his lush mouth and she squirms on her seat. When will this damn man loose the ability to leave her feeling like a blob of cherry Goop-O ABC.

She turns it this way and that. Shakes it. Sniffs it. If she whips out her scalpel and starts a dissection, he’ll be even more insufferable. Instead, she tugs the end of the ribbon, picks away the sticky tape on the sides, removes the wrapping to reveal a white cardboard box with a single gold letter on the top. S.

“For Scully?” she asks, and her voice is lower than she wants. She can’t believe she’s still falling for his games. That she still craves this to-and-fro playfulness.

“If you like,” he shrugs and it irritates her that her mind is full of cotton wool instead of theories or retorts. How is he still surprising her when she knows him by heart and he knows her inside out?

She loosens the lid. He leans closer. She licks her lips. The tension is thick like one of those early cases in Weirdsville, Virginia when rain would pummel the windows of the motel room and he would roll up his shirt sleeves as she typed notes on the clunky laptop. His brain would spark up like lightning and her adrenaline could power small towns. He’d talk feverishly and she’d temper his wild ideas. Nights lasted minutes. Life was a delirious ride of stellar highs and swampy lows, an intellectual smorgasbord of argument and counter debate, of fact and theory, of impossible, improbable details she could neither deny nor accept. How she missed those days. How she didn’t.

“What is it?” she asks before she prises the lid free.

“You tell me,” he responds and looks right into her, through to her heart, her soul, her essence.

Inside, there’s a fold of white velvet. In that soft fabric, there’s a tiny piece of paper. She removes it, aware of his gaze on her. Her cheeks heat. Her breathing quickens. Just like those nights when they’d unlock the key, uncover the conspiracy, decipher the code, see the arcane truth among the mundane lies. She unfolds it. On it, in Mulder’s precise penmanship, is a date. Today’s date. 032823.

“What does it mean?” she asks, a little flustered now. What has she missed?

His face cracks into the widest of smiles that sets her body to trembling. He shakes his head slightly, softening his grin into more of a gentle appraisement of her, one she’s seen when she’s sick or distressed or in pain. It comforts and reassures and grounds her. She asks again. “What does it mean? I just can’t think…I’m sorry, Mulder.”

“It means,” he says, placing a finger under her chin and moving in for a chaste kiss. “It means absolutely nothing. It’s today’s date. And today we are celebrating…today. Us. Being here. The now. The present. Whatever you want to call it. It’s our anniversary of nothing and I wanted to spend it with you.”

Her forehead rests against his and she chuffs out a quiet hmmph. She hasn’t forgotten anything important. Everything important is right here, right now. No good looking back. No use looking forward.

“Thank you, Mulder,” she whispers.

“Thank you, Scully,” he says, “for yesterday, for tomorrow, but especially for today.”

#txf fanfic #my fanfiction #msr #txf fic chicks #anniversary #today

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phillippadgettwrites · 1 year

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The First Time, Every Time: The Jersey Devil

Rated X / 2470 words / Posted on AO3 / Tagging @today-in-fic

She asks Rob to drop her off at the Hoover building instead of her apartment, and when he pulls up to the curb she immediately unbuckles her seatbelt and tugs on the door handle to discourage him from getting out of the car. She suspects that he might try to kiss her, and the idea makes her nose wrinkle. She can already hear Ellen asking her what’s wrong with him, why she isn’t interested, and she’s not even sure what her answer will be.

On paper, he’s perfect. He’s the kind of man her father would like to see her dating, save for the fact that he already has one marriage and a child under his belt. Nothing he said or did during their date offended her or gave her reason to think that they might not be a good match, but despite all that she just found the entire evening…painfully boring. She surprised herself when her reaction to Mulder paging her in the middle of their meal was relief rather than annoyance.

She makes her way towards the basement of the Hoover, her heels ticking loudly against the linoleum and bouncing a clatter of sound through the deserted halls. The soft glow of desk lamps illuminate otherwise darkened rooms here and there—other lonely souls avoiding the reality of solitude with work—but for the most part the building is empty. The relative stillness makes her realize that the two glasses of wine she downed to make Rob’s monologue on shared custody more tolerable have left her on the edge of tipsy, which feels like an inappropriate state to be in at her workplace. She feels the distinct flutter of excitement mount as the elevator lowers her into the bowels of the building, and brushes away the nagging worry that Mulder will find her late-night arrival odd.

Her lingering crush on him is inconvenient, mostly because it makes her second guess herself and worry about what he thinks of her more than she’s comfortable with. Missy used to tease her mercilessly about her unrequited fixation on boys who would never like her back: the captain of the football team, the student body president, her chemistry T.A. Being the girl who is smart but not sexy, cute but not pretty, a great friend but not girlfriend material, is a truth she has carried with her into adulthood. And here she is again, ditching a man who is well within her league and actually interested in her in order to spend time with a man who will never see her as anything more than a colleague.

That’s not to say she wants him to, of course—she has already thoroughly learned her lesson regarding mixing work and pleasure. There’s just something primal about wanting a person you are unrelentingly attracted to to see you in the same way, even if you never intend to act on it.

She arrives before his office door, pink-cheeked and inexplicably nervous, and raps three times with her knuckle.

“It’s open,” he calls out, and she pushes the door just wide enough to poke her head through.

Mulder is hunched over his desk, head raised expectantly. When he sees her, his eyes narrow and he glances behind him at the clock on the wall.

“Scully, what are you doing here? What happened to your date?” he asks, and she feels a flush of embarrassment.

“It’s, um—we were finished. I mean, it’s over,” she stammers awkwardly as she steps the rest of the way through the door. “I just thought—I wasn’t sure if you might still be working. If you might need my help. With the case,” she finishes, turning her back to him briefly as she hangs her purse and mouths oh my god to herself at her own lack of eloquence.

When she turns to face him, she finds that he’s now sitting back in his chair, eyebrows raised and mouth slightly agape. His eyes flash down to her feet and then back up her body, and when they land on her face he looks away. Reflexively, Scully looks down at her outfit to see if she spilled something on her shirt, then touches her hair in case it’s fallen out of place. Everything appears to be in order.

Mulder clears his throat and picks up a sheet of paper from the desktop.

“Of course, I could always use your help. Take a look at this drawing based on the description from one of the eyewitnesses,” he says, and Scully walks around the desk to stand beside him.

The drawing is rudimentary, almost childlike, depicting a distinctly female form that resembles an ogre. Scully cracks a smile.

“This is a bit different than your typical fare,” she jokes, then turns to look at him.

She finds that his eyes are already on her, lingering somewhere around her waist. As before, he sees that she’s looking at him and quickly averts his eyes.

“Sorry,” he blurts out, busying himself with organizing the persistent mess on his desk. “You look—sorry if I made you uncomfortable.”

Scully frowns and looks down at her outfit again. Ellen had helped her pick it out, and she felt comfortable and confident in it all evening, until now.

“Do I look silly?” she asks self-consciously, smoothing her hands over her hips.

“No!” Mulder says, too abruptly, snapping his head back over to look at her. “No, not at all. You look great. You look amazing, actually.”

Scully smiles demurely and looks back to the drawing. “Thank you.”

“Not that you don’t normally look great,” he continues, rambling nervously. “But your work suits are decidedly less…fitted.”

He stops talking and Scully slowly lifts her head to look at him. He’s cringing, the fingers of one hand resting on his temple in an attempt to shield his face. Meanwhile, she can’t keep the smile off hers.

“I made it weird, didn’t I?” he asks, stealing glances at her.

“No, you didn’t make it weird,” she assures him, turning to rest her hip against the edge of the desk, her confidence restored.

Mulder pivots his chair to face her, and while his eyes are on her face she can sense that he is still gawking at her from his periphery. She feels warm and a little scared, but also excited.

“So, how was your date?” he asks, and she pretends to examine the drawing again, using her own peripheral vision to watch him raking his eyes over her body.

“Fine,” she says, disinterested.

“You gonna go out with him again?”

She shrugs, then sets the drawing back down on the desk.

“Maybe. Maybe not. I haven’t decided.”

Mulder stands abruptly and his chair goes skittering across the floor until it knocks up against a metal filing cabinet. Scully flinches, but her reaction is cut short when he steps up behind her, so close she can feel his pectoral muscles pressing into her back.

“See?” he asks, reaching around her to trace his finger along the curved lines indicating breasts on the drawing. “It’s female.”

“Compelling,” she attempts to say dryly, but her voice catches in her throat.

His other hand comes to rest on the front of her hip, and she freezes as her heart begins to race. She should tell him to stop. She should leave. But she doesn’t want to.

Mulder stoops a little, and she feels the heat of his breath near her ear, and then the rush of a deep inhale.

“You smell good,” he says quietly, and she squeezes her thighs together.

“What are you doing?” she asks, just as quietly. Some part of her is still afraid that she’s misreading the situation.

“Do you want me to stop?”

A pause.

“No.”

His arms go around her waist, pulling her flush against him, and she feels the firm ridge of his erection press into her lower back. She’s terrified, exhilarated, in utter disbelief. She feels as though she’s outside her own body, watching from above as she covers Mulder’s hand with her own and pushes it down her belly and under the waist of her pants. She would never do this. Never. But somehow she is. Mulder makes a little sound somewhere between a moan and a sigh, then brings his other hand in to undo the clasp on her trousers. They fall to the floor, puddling around her heels, and all that covers her is the lace bodysuit that snaps between her legs. None of her panties were practical to wear beneath it.

“God, look at you,” Mulder mumbles, mostly to himself, as he leans over her shoulder to look down at her body. He leans away for a moment to get a look at the back, and she feels her cheeks warm, remembering that it’s a thong. “You’re gorgeous, Scully.”

She can feel how wet she is, just from the knowledge that he wants her. He palms her breasts, then sends his hands lower. Down and down, following the lace fabric between her legs. He hums, and she knows he feels it too. She startles as she hears three quick pops, and then feels cool air on her vulva as he unsnaps the body suit and exposes her.

“Oh,” he says, feeling her bare skin beneath his fingertips. “I thought you’d be wearing…sorry.”

“It’s okay,” she breathes out, trembling as his fingers follow the seam of her leg and slide past her vulva on one side, and then the other.

“Okay?” he repeats, inching closer to her opening.

She snakes her arm behind her back and rubs him firmly over his slacks.

“Okay,” she says confidently, and from there it unravels at a breakneck pace.

She watches from above as he strips off his belt and pushes his pants and boxers down to the floor. She watches him fold her in half over the side of his desk, then drop to his knees and push his face into the valley of her ass cheeks. She feels his tongue, hot and wet, prodding at everything he can reach, and just when she thinks she might come, he stands up and runs the head of his cock along the same path.

“You’re sure?” he asks through gritted teeth, and she pushes her hips back against him, taking him in halfway.

She would never do this. Not with her partner, not in his office, not with the door half open, not without a condom. She would never, and yet she is. All she can think about his how good it feels to be wanted, to be fucked with so much vigor. She steals a glance over her shoulder to see his face, to see the way he’s looking at her, and she finds him slack-jawed, his dress shirt bunched up under his armpits so he can see the place where he’s slipping in and out of her. He catches her looking and holds her eye, increasing the snap of his hips as he bumps her higher and higher with each slap of his thighs against hers. Her eyes slide closed, and a wash of pleasure spreads through her limbs, gathering in her pelvis and shattering. She bites her lip to stay quiet, and Mulder grunts when he feels her, pulling out soon after and stroking himself until she feels the hot spill of him on her lower back.

She’s panting, still floating in the middle place where she doesn’t have to think about what she’s just done. And then she hears the elevator ding.

They both freeze, waiting. There is the distinct scuff of shoes on linoleum, and Scully stands too quickly. Her head spins and Mulder grabs her elbow as she tries to steady herself on her high heels, only one of which is still on her foot. They each scramble back into their clothes, and she stuffs the tails of the body suit into her pants as Mulder shoves his shirt back into his slacks. By the time the interloper makes it to the office door, she’s already beside the coat rack, swinging her purse over her shoulder.

“You must be agent Scully,” says a friendly voice, and she turns to see an elderly man pushing a custodial cart, his bushy salt and pepper eyebrows lifting to afford him a better view. “You finally hung around late enough for me to meet you.”

The man smiles and Scully does her best to return it, though her stomach is doing adrenaline-fueled backflips.

“Scully, this is Sam,” Mulder says hoarsely, and she nods and offers her hand.

“Nice to meet you, Sam. I was actually just on my way out,” she says somewhat curtly, then hurries down the hall toward the elevator.

By the time she hails a cab and makes her way back to her apartment, there is already a message waiting for her on her answering machine. She knows it’s from him. She undresses right there in the hallway, frowning at the stain on the back of her shirt, as she hits play and listens to messages from her insurance broker and Ellen, asking how her date went.

Hi Dana, it’s Rob. I just wanted to say that I had a great time tonight, and I’d love to take you out again. You have my number, give me a call when you’re ready. Take care.

Delete.

The next message starts with an agonized sigh.

Hey, Scully, it’s me. I, um—fuck. I hope you’re okay. I’ll call you again when I get back to my apartment.

The message ends, and she plays it again, though she’s not entirely sure what she’s listening for. On her third listen, the phone rings, and she snatches it up off the cradle a little too quickly.

“Hello?”

“Hey.”

There’s a long pause. Scully looks down at her naked body, and the soiled body suit she still holds in her hand.

“It’s okay, Mulder. I’m fine,” she says, and she hears him let out a relieved sigh. “I think maybe I had a few too many glasses of wine at dinner,” she adds lightheartedly, and he chuckles.

“I think maybe I was staring at that drawing a little too long,” he jokes, and she gives him the courtesy of a laugh in response.

“Maybe just forget it ever happened, huh?” she suggests, wringing the bodysuit in her hands.

“Yeah, probably for the best,” he agrees.

Another long pause.

“Goodnight, Mulder.”

“Night, Scully.”

She’s moving the phone away from her ear when she hears him speak again.

“What was that?” she asks.

“I was just saying—I just wanted you to know. You really did look great tonight. That guy is lucky he got to take you out.”

She feels herself smiling, knowing that Mulder was certainly the lucky one of the two tonight.

“Thank you, Mulder.”

“Goodnight.”

“Bye.”

#x files fanfic #the x files #xf fic #xf fanfic #dana scully #fox mulder #smut #xfiles

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agent-troi · 5 months

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Eight Nights of Mulder, Night 7: Potatoes

Summary: Missing scene from Humbug.

@eightnightsofmulder @today-in-fic

ao3 link

Sheriff Hamilton smiled knowingly at them. “Investigation isn’t going too well, is it?”

Mulder threw the potato back into the hole, awkwardly avoiding eye contact with either the sheriff or Scully, the latter of whom he knew had to be equally embarrassed.

“Well, good night, Sheriff,” he said. He placed a hand on Scully’s shoulder and led her back to her trailer.

“You know, Missy once tried to convince our Aunt Olive to use that wart remedy,” she said. “We all thought she was crazy, but apparently Aunt Olive tried it later and it actually worked.”

“Really?” Mulder chuckled. “That doesn’t surprise me.”

Scully smirked. “What, that she suggested it, or that it worked?”

He shrugged. “I actually meant the first one, but you know me, Scully. How potatoes and full moons could have any effect on warts at all sounds just like an X-File.”

She rolled her eyes. “I’m not convinced Aunt Olive’s case wasn’t just a coincidence. If Sheriff Hamilton’s warts disappear too, I might lend some credence to that theory.”

“No, you won’t. You’ll still be skeptical like always.”

“Would that disappoint you?”

“You could never disappoint me, Scully.”

Her cheeks burned. “Good night, Mulder.”

“Night, partner.”

#today in fic #eightnightsofmulder #x files #fox mulder #dana scully #mulder x scully #msr #humbug #potatoes #hanukkah #double drabble

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jodithann827 · 16 days

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One Night Stand (Revised)

13/13

Rated: X/ Ao3/ @today-in-fic

Scully Residence

Saturday, April 24 1993

Nope, she thinks to herself, tossing a plaid shirt onto her bed. She pulls a red velvet shirt off a hanger, shaking her head. It joins the previously discarded shirt. Her phone rings, startling her momentarily. She pauses her search and reaches for her phone. The smile on her face grows wide as she answers while continuing her tedious task.

“I was beginning to wonder when I would hear from you,” her happiness evident.

“Forget about you. How is my scrumptious niece?” comes a cheery voice from a million miles away, yet sounds so close she could be in the next room.

“She’s marvelous, Missy. Thriving every day. She would like to know if her aunt will grace her with her presence sometime shortly.”

“Probably sometime in early summer,” Missy replies. Scully sighs, gently, prompting Missy to continue, “Come on Dana, don’t be like that. You know I get enough of it from Mom and Dad. I don’t need it from you too.”

Nodding into her phone, Scully closes her eyes. “I’m sorry, Missy. You know I support you. Emma misses you. She carries your picture around the house a lot throughout the week. I miss you too,” she hesitates slightly on her last words.

Missy, being the empath she is, immediately zones in on Scully.

“What’s going on, Dana?” Scully scrunches her nose, silently grumbling at how well her sister knows her. She could lie and say nothing is going on, but Missy would see right through her. As much as she tells her sister everything, she’s not quite ready to disclose the entire situation, mostly because she’s not one hundred percent sure she understands it herself.

“I’m getting ready to go out, that’s all,” she attempts to sound casual, though she suspects she fails miserably.

“You’re hiding something from me, Dana Katherine,” Melissa accuses, though in a good-natured tone.

It’s Saturday night and Scully’s getting ready for her dinner with Mulder. She’d spent most of the day with Emma, snuggling, playing, reading, and enjoying her. She’d dropped her sweet girl at Ellen’s house an hour ago, or so, and was now in the process of getting ready. Showered, hair done, and makeup applied, she was standing in her closet, clad only in her bra and panties, attempting to find something to wear, when her sister’s call interrupted her thoughts. While she was always glad to hear from Melissa, her timing was anything but great. Scully was nervous enough. She hadn’t told anyone in her family about the identity of her new FBI partner.

“I’m not hiding anything Missy, I promise. I’m just going out, that’s it,” she attempts again to shrug it off. She looks at herself in the mirror, analyzing every inch, curve, and shadow of makeup. While talking to her sister, she’d thrown on black slacks and a light, long-sleeve, top. “So where are you anyways?”

“Stop trying to change the subject,” Missy admonishes, though Scully can hear a gentle tone in her voice. “Bangkok. So, who are you going out with?”

Scully hesitates for a split second, then relents. “A friend,” giving nothing away.

“A date,” Melissa counters, goading her sister.

“It’s not a date,” Scully retorts, defensively.

“Take off the slacks and sweater and put a dress on,” Melissa tells her, sounding half sister, half parent. Scully grins, inwardly. As much of a pain as her sister can be, there is no doubt that she knows Scully very, very well. She eyes a dress in the back of her closet. Taking it off the hanger, she pulls the pants and shirt off, then slips into the dress, turning in front of her mirror, admiring the way the fabric falls over her figure.

“Fine, you won’t talk about your date, tell me, where is my niece?” Missy asks, changing the subject. Scully thanks her silently.

“I dropped her off at Ellen’s a little bit ago,” she tells her. She continues eyeing the dress she’s wearing. Purple and black and falling just above her knees in length.

“Is she spending the night?” Melissa inquired, which made Scully pause. The silence was just long enough for Melissa to take notice. “Who is this guy, Dane? Come on sis, don’t hold out on me!”

“Miss, it’s a long story that I don’t have time to tell right now. He’s going to be here any minute. I promise when I have a handle on what’s going on, I promise I’ll let you know.” She assures her sister.

“I’m going to hold you to it, Dana,” Melissa says, her voice beaming. She then adds, “Love you.”

“I love you too Missy. See you soon,” Scully says into the phone, then hangs up and tosses the chunky phone on her bed.

Ellen had offered to keep Emma for the night, simply because Scully didn’t know how long she would be out, and in Ellen’s words ‘it would be a shame to wake a two-year-old to have to take her home just to put her to bed’. Scully resisted initially, but Ellen made a strong case and eventually won.

Checking her hair and makeup in the mirror one last time, she heads to the living room and hears his soft knock as she reaches the coffee table. She and Mulder had agreed that Mulder should pick her up, no sense in taking two cars or cabs. Swiftly walking to the door, she opens it, and her breath catches in her throat as his eyes do a double take. Mulder stands before her in dark jeans, a black shirt, and his leather jacket; he looks amazing. Scully shakes her head attempting to focus, and realizes she has no idea how she is going to get through the evening. She opens the door and allows him entrance.

“You look nice,” he tells her, walking in. In his hands, he holds out a bottle of wine, which she graciously accepts. “I didn’t know a good ‘meeting my work partner/mother of my child to discuss the situation over dinner’ present, so I figured wine would always be welcomed.”

Scully lets out a barking laugh as she places it on the table. Turning to face him, she smirks. “What, you don’t do this often?” Now it’s Mulder’s turn to laugh.

“You can say that again,” he says, taking his bottom lip into his mouth, nervously. Scully stares at his mouth, a mouth that she couldn’t get out of her head for a very long time.

“Reservations are in 30 minutes, you ready?” he says, pulling Scully from her thoughts. Nodding, she grabs her keys and purse as Mulder escorts her out the door, his hand falling to the small of her back.

Aubree’s Italian Bistro

They made it to the restaurant without an issue, making their reservation with plenty of time to spare. They were taken to their table and, ever the gentleman, Mulder insisted on pulling Scully’s chair out for her. He then ordered a bottle of wine he knew she enjoyed.

They had gotten to the restaurant without an issue, made their reservation, and were being seated. Mulder pulled out the chair for Scully to sit and he ordered a bottle of wine he knew she liked. They made small talk about work while looking at the delectable entrees and ordered quickly.

“Mulder,” Scully starts, while Mulder opens his mouth and says, “Look, Scully.” They smile, chuckle slightly, and sit silently for another moment.

“Scully, before you say anything, I know this is awkward as hell. We can pretend to dance around the issue or we can just be upfront with each other,” he lets out a breath and Scully can’t help but smile at his boyish charm and attempt at maturity.

“What issue is that, Mulder?” For a split second, she wonders if he means the issue between the adults. Does he know how she feels? Is he feeling that way too? Her heart starts to quicken and her cheeks turn a slight shade of red.

“Emma,” he answers swiftly. Scully’s heart drops but she’s somehow able to maintain her composure.

Nodding slowly, she says, “Right, Emma.”

Mulder notices her falter and asks, “Is there something else?” Scully shakes her head quickly trying to recover. Continuing, his train of thought, Mulder says, “I uh, I’ve been thinking about her, and this situation, all week and I can’t even begin to describe the emotional rollercoaster–”

“Mulder, I am so sorry,” Scully interjects, guilt ultimately overtaking her for the umteenth time over the past week, and really the past few months. Suddenly, Mulder is grabbing her hand. “It’s my turn now, Scully.” He’s matter-of-fact and quiet, yet gentle all rolled into one. Scully nods, noticing that he doesn’t let go of her hand once he’s done speaking

“I want to be angry, frustrated, annoyed, and hurt, but I can’t be, and frankly, I have no right to be. If the situation were different, if you had known me, known where to find me, and purposefully not told me, or if you had ignored me, I could feel those feelings, but Scully, I can’t be mad. Perhaps maybe enraged at the situation, yes, but not with you. You made an unimaginable decision, alone. I wasn’t there to support you. That’s something I will always regret, even though neither of us is to blame; it’s the hand we were dealt. But, now that I know she exists, I’ve met her and spent time with her,” he chokes back a slight bit of emotion and continues, “I can’t imagine not having her in my life, or being a part of hers. I know it’s different than spending a day with her, but I would like the chance to parent her. I know I have no experience with kids or parenting; hell, I haven’t been around a small child since Samantha was little, and I know I have a lot to learn., but I would like to try. I know your concerns about work, with my search for the truth, but Scully, spending time with Emma, knowing she’s a part of me… I want to be with her; I want to watch her grow. I’ve missed so much already and I don’t want to miss another minute. Please hear me when I say I would quit the FBI tomorrow if it means being a father to your little girl; that is my new truth.”

Scully blinks, words forgotten, slight shock overtaking her thoughts. She can suddenly see her whole life in front of her; lazy weekends with Emma and Mulder, playing, shopping, doing the mundane things life throws at people. She sees holidays and happy times; school days and homework, sports, and clubs. She sees driver's ed, college, and maybe a wedding or two thrown in, with some alien conspiracies lurking around for good measure.

“I fell in love with you…” the words leave her mouth before she can fully process the implications. Her ocean blue eyes grow wide, and she throws her hand over her lips, partially in shock and partially to keep her from saying anything else, once she realizes what came out. It’s too late. Although it was spoken in a mere whisper, she knows Mulder heard every syllable. They sit there, at a stalemate, in thick silence milling about. Even the waiter, bringing food, is not enough to break the spell; tension is thick.

“I’m sorry,” she recovers, once she gains her composure. “That sort of just slipped out,” she attempts to brush away her slip of the tongue. As if switching beings for the moment, Mulder raises his eyebrows sky high, in true Scully fashion. Finding her voice, Scully clarifies, “I may have underplayed how I felt about you after our one-night stand.” May as well lay it all out there since the cat is out of the bag, she thinks. There wouldn’t be any way they could co-parent, let alone work together without an open and honest conversation at this point.

“I uh, I fell for you Mulder, I fell hard,” she tells him honestly. “The week or two after, I couldn’t eat or sleep; it was all so difficult. I was out of my mind because that wasn’t me. Those feelings were irrational. I felt crazy. Dana Scully does not meet people and instantly falls in love. It took me 10 months to tell my last relationship that I loved him, and then that ended abruptly soon after. It was like letting go of all control, which I don’t do, ever. There was something about you, Mulder. You took my breath away. There was an undeniable connection, Mulder. I felt it, and I want to say I know you did too,” she looks down, her tiny hands twisting and shaping the lightly colored napkin in her lap. “I had just finally started making progress on getting over you when I found out I was pregnant, and between life in general, the depression, and the hormones, I spiraled into a dark place. I was angry for a while. I was mad at the world, which is very unlike me. I was angry because I didn’t want to be pregnant. I didn’t understand. I thought maybe God was punishing me because of what I had done. But then I kept thinking about that night, knowing how much passion we had and the love I felt; I knew my baby was created from something wonderful. Anyway, I downplayed that night to a lot of people, especially my parents, when I had to eventually tell them about the baby. At that point only my friend Ellen knew. My sister saw right through me. To this day she and Ellen are the only two who know how bad that time was for me. I’m sorry for how all of this has come out. But, I figure if we are going to work together, and try to co-parent, well, you deserve the truth. You have a right to know. I don’t expect a response or reciprocation or anything–”

Suddenly Mulder’s lips are on hers, he’s leaning across the table, his hands reaching for the sides of her face. The kiss is chaste and short, with a hint of what could be. When he pushes back they look at each other, neither speaking but rather taking in the profound moment.

It’s Mulder who breaks the silence first. “I think we have a lot more to talk about than we initially thought.” His thumbs stroke her cheekbones. “How about we get the food to go and head back to your house.”

Scully Residence

Saturday, April 24 1993

Sounds of keys and knick-knacks clang together, mingling inside Scully’s bag. Her shaky hands fumble with her keys, dropping them not once, but twice, only for her to have to rummage through and find them again. Once free, she flubs the one job she has: unlocking her door. She tries again, this time successful. She’s been working with him for months, but now that Mulder is this close to her in proximity, almost completely up behind her, she’s transformed into a shaky mess. She leads the way inside as she feels the warmth of Mulder’s gentle touch on her shoulder, another hand on her waist. Suddenly his lips are there, on her neck, traveling down to where her shoulder starts. She hears a thud and realizes Mulder kicked the door shut with one foot, his hands, and lips never leaving her skin.

Putting the food in the kitchen, in the fridge, proves to be quite a task, walking into the kitchen with Mulder still attached. Her brain is fuzzy but once she finally reaches her goal, she turns to face her partner.

“Mulder–” she starts, though he interrupts her.

“What time do you need to get Emma?” His mouth descends on hers before she’s able to answer his question.

“Technically not until tomorrow,” she manages to get out. She puts a hand out to his chest, pausing the start of yet another heated kiss. Her rational side shines through. “Mulder, should we be doing this? There is so much we need to talk about,” she lets out a breath, as Mulder's lips advance from her silky neck to her chin. “Mulder,” she insists again, more forcefully this time.

He pauses and looks into her eyes. Taking a step back to give her some breathing room, he sighs. Taking her hand, he leads her to the couch. “Look, Scully, I know you’re scared. Believe it or not, I’m completely terrified. We have good reason to be. The bureau, the x-files, Emma. But believe it or not, I want to believe, no I have to believe that everything is going to fall into place for us. Shockingly, I’m more scared about what will happen if we don’t take this leap of faith.”

Scully takes a moment to study his face and she sees calm. She sees caring. She sees love. She knows above all else that he’s right. She stands, pulling him up by his shirt, and leads him to the bedroom, but before they make it, he scoops her up, carrying her the rest of the way. Once inside he places her in the middle of her bed and lowers himself to join her. She lets out a gasp, realizing that she’d been waiting for this since walking into his office. That’s a lie, she thinks. She’d been waiting for it ever since he walked out the door the first night she’d met him.

His lips envelop hers, soft to the touch, yet forceful. His tongue slips out, gliding along her lips, trying mercilessly to poke its way through. He gently pushes her back, her arms reach for his face, and she opens her mouth to meet his awaiting tongue. Mulder’s hands are instantaneously everywhere: her face, her back, her side, and slipping under her dress. She pulls her lips from his and rests her forehead on his. Whispering, because if she speaks any louder she’s convinced it will break the spell, she reaffirms, “We’re doing the right thing, right?”

He pulls back and he considers her, the aroma of perfume, anticipation, and arousal filling him. He softly kisses her closed eyelids, one at a time. “Do you want to stop?” he asks, metaphorically throwing the ball in her court.

Steadily, Scully shakes her head. “Make love to me, Mulder,” she murmurs. That is all he needs to hear before he pulls her to her wobbly feet and attacks the zipper of her dress achingly slow. He wants to do this right; he wants this to be perfect. Her dress ripples as it falls to the floor and she’s left standing in her black thong and bra. Her eyes are wild with want and Mulder inhales sharply, licking his lips involuntarily. Stepping out of the piles at her feet, she pulls at Mulder’s ridiculously expensive shirt. She makes a mental note to ask him what’s with the catalog clothing on a different day. She lifts it over his head, a slightly difficult task for her five-foot-three-inch frame, compared to his six-foot stature.

He takes her in his arms once more, then lowers her to the bed. They have all the time in the world as the night stands still. He smells her arousal, his mouth all but watering. He bends to meet her mouth, once again seeking entrance with his tongue. They kiss and nip, exploring each other as though it's the very first time, although after the time apart, it feels like the first time all over again. He kisses down her neck, then to her shoulder, and finally to her breast. Pulling the cup down, he takes a nipple into his mouth. She hisses as he applies the perfect amount of pressure and suction. She reaches into his hair, pulling lightly. Without missing a beat, he reaches his arms around her and unclasps the offending fabric, the barrier to what he seeks. Scully lets out a breathy moan as Mulder pulls her other breast into his hand, pinching her pebbled nipple. He kneads and licks, sucks and pinches. She arches into him. After a bit, he switches sides and starts the process over with her other breast. He feels her heat on his lower abdomen, where their bodies happen to align.

He begins inching lower, licking down her chest, to her navel. He bites gently which elicits a gasp from Scully. Continuing lower, he takes the tip of her thong in his teeth. He meets her eyes, pausing, giving her a minute to say no. The fire he sees in her ocean eyes tells him the word won’t fall from her lips. He pulls down with his teeth, using his hands on each side of the scrap of fabric, until the panties are around her ankles. They join her forgotten dress on the floor. He inhales deeply, taking in her scent. It’s imprinted in his brain, memories from so long ago. After another beat, another pause waiting for her to resist, he dives head first.

Scully gently raises to her elbows, wanting to catch a glimpse of his face between her legs, where she wants him most. This was one pleasure she didn’t have the opportunity to experience last time, though she’d fantasized about it many nights after. He teases her, kissing the inside of her thighs, biting just hard enough to leave an indent, but not so hard it’s painful. With one hand on her breast, he uses the other to part her folds. He licks gently, once, then a second time. Scully jumps at the contact and arches into him again, her grip on his hair tighter.

Mulder begins lapping her up. She tastes like he’s imagined and he can’t get enough. After a few minutes, he wraps his lips around her clit and she lets out a low moan, music to Mulder’s ears. “Mulder,” she purrs, which spurs Mulder on, finally hearing his name on her lips after all the years apart, vastly different from how it sounds day to day in the confines of their office. He sucks and licks, steadily, finding a rhythm that she likes, by the sounds she’s making. After a fit, he adds a finger, then two, sliding them in and out, on beat with his tongue. Scully pulls at the sheets, her hands clutching them in a vice grip. She’s panting and moaning, and though Mulder hasn’t been intimate with her since long ago, he can tell she’s close. He finds her G-spot and gives her clit with a final suck and then a lick of the tongue, and she’s soaring. She doesn’t scream but rather moans his name, drawled out, each syllable slowly leaving her lips. He feels her back away from his mouth, ever so slightly, when the feeling is too much for her. He kisses the inside of each thigh and then uses his tongue to follow the path up to her breasts, while Scully tries to settle her breathing. He sucks each nipple and then moves back up her neck and then finally, reachers her mouth. She pulls him in, sucking his tongue into her mouth, the taste of her sparking renewed arousal.

They kiss for some time, letting Scully’s breathing settle and her heart rate return to normal. She looks into his eyes and smiles. “Hi,” she whispers, kissing him for the umpteenth time. He kisses the tip of her nose.

“Hi,” he whispers back. He’s gently rubbing his hand up and down her side. In that moment he realizes this is where he’s meant to be and he never wants to leave. While lost in thought, Mulder suddenly finds himself on his back. Stunned for a second, he looks at Scully, who is grinning from ear to ear.

“Why Agent Scully,” he laughs, realizing she pulled a maneuver from Quantico. Before he has time to react, she has her hands pulling down his pants, which somehow were still on, taking his boxers with them. His throbbing erection springs to life and now it’s Scully’s turn to drool. She remembers that he is well endowed, but seeing it again was something entirely different. Before Mulder has a chance to object, Scully wraps her lips around the tip of his penis. It’s Mulder’s turn to hiss. In previous relationships, Scully wasn’t a huge fan of fellatio, but it feels different with Mulder; she can’t wait to have him in her mouth. She swipes her tongue over his tip again, forming an O with her lips. Using her tongue to lubricate him, she slides her mouth up and down, Mulder moaning her name. She places one hand at his base and cups his balls with her other hand, giving a firm but gentle squeeze. She hollows out her mouth and begins to suck like a hoover.

“Oh, God, Scully,” Mulder pants, beads of sweat forming on his brow. His words entice her to continue and Mulder is caught between never wanting her to stop and needing her to stop. She picks up her pace, using her tongue to lick around the width of his throbbing cock.

“Sc… Scul… Scully,” Mulder pants. He puts a hand in her hair, not to guide her, but to stop her. She pauses, looking up at him. “It’s been a relatively long time for me and if you keep doing that we won’t be able to finish the way I have been wanting to since you stepped foot in my office,” he admits. She lets his penis fall out of her mouth and she grins at him. Just as he did to her, she kisses his thighs and makes her way back up his body.

She straddles him, rocking back and forth, sliding her slit up and down his pulsing erection. She captures his lips and he loves that she is asserting control.

“Condom?” he questions.

“I’m on the pill,” is her response. She stares into his eyes, communicating her complete trust in him. His eyes furrow, silently asking if she’s sure. Before he can ask again, she impales herself on him. She lets out a sound between a moan and a cry. Mulder is stock still, his arms wrapping around her waist.

“Scully?” his voice thick with concern.

Scully moans, then breathily responds “I’m okay, Mulder. Really. You feel amazing. It’s been a very long time.”

He’s shocked to say the least, wrapping his head around the words she expresses, understanding their meaning but confused at the same time. Scully makes a sound, a cross between a laugh and a huff. “Yes, Mulder, I haven’t been with anyone since our one-night stand. I was pregnant, then had a baby, and I was working full time…” she let her words drift. She sets back to the task at hand, rocking into him, silently telling him to move. She grabs his hand and places it at her waist, the other hand interlacing with his. She leans over him and captures his lips. Mulder grins, loving the way she seizes control.

After a minute or two she starts to grind faster, Mulder meeting her thrusts. He’s panting, squeezing her waist, knowing there will be fingerprints tomorrow. Sensing he won’t last much longer, he pauses his movements. Scully looks down, catching his eyes. “I’m not going to–” he starts to get out but she silences him with yet another kiss.

“It’s okay, Mulder. Let go,” she assures him. He moves his mouth to suck on her soft nipple. To her, his hand on her hip feels like a furnace, as he slowly rakes his nails over her flesh. He bites, ever so slightly, on her nipple and she lets out a yelp, followed by a gasp. He knows his release is imminent and he so desperately wants her to come again. He releases her hand and moves his to where they are joined. Scully places her now free hand palm down in the center of his chest. He rubs her clit, the juices from their combined arousal coating his fingers. Within a minute of contact, he can feel her walls tightening, vice-like, around his cock, which was growing harder by the second. This time when she comes, she does scream, and it’s music to Mulder’s ears. Then, he’s a goner. He howls her name and lets go, spurting his cum deep within her depths.

Time stands still, the only noise is the sounds of heavy panting. Scully lowers herself onto Mulder, seeking out his lips for another kiss, which he happily delivers. With a devilish smile, he tells her, “Just as good as I remember.” Scully smiles but remains voiceless. Still connected most intimately, she burrows into him, trying to get as physically close as possible.

“I fell for you too, Scully,” Mulder reveals after a few minutes, his words a murmur. “I didn’t want to admit how much, but I struggled moving on from you.” Scully smiles a soft smile into the crook of his neck. She knows they need to move, as she feels the evidence of their love-making trickling out of her, ever so slowly.

“What do we do now, Mulder?” she asks.

“Figure it out as we go?” he suggests.

“What about Emma?” she asks, thinking about the bigger reason they went to dinner together, and ultimately ended up in each other's arms.

“I want to see her, be with her, as much as you’ll let me,” he replies, nuzzling her neck. Scully hesitates, which Mulder feels. He sits up, his flaccid penis slipping out of her. She turns to get up and clean up the mess, but Mulder stops her. “Don’t worry about it Scully, we’ll clean it later. Talk to me. What’s weighing on you?”

Scully pauses, deciding how to explain what’s on her mind and heart. “I’m fiercely independent, Mulder…” he makes a shocked face, to which she playful punches him in the shoulder. “I just mean I am used to doing things on my own, making decisions by myself, having Emma with me 100% of the time when I’m not working.”

“Oh Scully,” Mulder sighs, “The last thing I want to do is make this hard for you, or Emma for that matter. I don’t want to swoop in and disrupt your routine. I don’t want to take her away or expect to make all the decisions. I just want to get to know her, see her, be with her, and love her. And who knows, maybe she’ll let me love her mama as well. We’ll figure it out as we go. You call the shots,” he insists. He cups her face and kisses her jaw.

“What about work?” she asks.

“Well I think we both know who calls the shots there,” he attempts a joke, which elicits a smile from her. “I don’t know, Scully. I can’t see the future. What I do know is that now that you’re in my life, I can’t not have you in it. I’m not the best at talking, but can we try to work on keeping communication open? Even when it’s difficult? Can we be intentional on separating work and personal life?” Scully leans in, nods, and kisses him.

“I’m willing to give it a try,” she tells him.

“What time do we need to get Emma?” he asks, a hand running up and down the length of her back from her neck to the swell of her ass. Scully smiles at the use of ‘we’.

“Well, Ellen told me to enjoy my morning, so…” she trails off.

“Are you hungry? We didn’t exactly get to eat our food,” he realizes. She nods at him, but the look in her eyes tells him that food may not be what she has in mind.

They make love again, long into the night, amazed at what a one-night stand could lead to.

#dana scully #fox mulder #the x files fanfic #x files #au fanfiction #msr #msr fanfic #one night stand #happily ever after #will they won't they

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scullysexual · 1 year

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Spooky Mulder's UFO Club.

After losing a bet, Scully is forced to join Spooky Mulder’s UFO Club. (actually it’s called The Study of Unexplained Phenomena Project, and it’s a class not a club, but whatever) Ridiculed throughout the school by students and staff alike, Scully wants to get it over with as soon as she can and come “back down to earth” when a class trip up to Alaska, to do their own investigations into the mysterious deaths of four hikers, finds them stranded with an unknown virus wreaking havoc and a woods that becomes its own entity at night, Scully realises this dumb little class packs a lot more horror than she bargained for.

---

Based on the Dyatlav Pass Incident, this is an idea that me and one of my friends have had for a while. While this is solely written by myself, I do have her to thank for the idea to turn it into a fic.

Despite having four chapters already written I'm not sure if I'll ever post the rest. If you'd like to see more in the future then please do let me know as that will contribute a lot in my decision.

This fic is a high school au (because I cannot write a normal case file to save my life) It features an Ethan/Scully ship and has brief mentions of bi-polar disorder. I also know nothing about American school or America in general. This is unbetaed but so much fun to write.

@today-in-fic

Why she had agreed to come here, she has no idea. It wasn’t like her presence would be missed if her current situation was anything to go by: stood in the corner of the kitchen, drinking subpar alcohol that tasted more like piss than the fruity cocktail it was supposed to resemble, and being ignored by virtually everyone around her. She should leave, could leave, nobody would stop her…except she didn’t have a car to drive herself home in. Dana rolls her eyes, the anger shimmering in her chest as she revisits the argument she’d only just had with her father before she’d left for the party. Ultimately, he didn’t think she needed one, she had him, her mother, and even BJ to drive her wherever she needed. Dana knew that in actual fact it was so she’d stay under his thumb, know where she was, and more importantly, who she was with. With her own car, she’d be free to go when she liked and her father had made that mistake with her sister: On her seventeenth birthday Melissa had been gifted a car and a year later she’d used it to drive herself down to California to be with her girlfriend without a word said to anyone. How Dana wished her sister had taken her with her.

The worse part of it all, she knew how to drive but after Melissa’s escape it was Dana who had suffered the consequences. Even sharing with BJ was out of the question after a Manic Missy episode had left BJ’s car busted in a ditch. It had been the funds for Dana’s car that had brought BJ his new one. Instead, she relied on Ethan to ferry her around, something she knew he hated.

In fact, Ethan was why she was here, begging her to come to this party because Marcus only turns 18 once and it’s gonna be wild. She had things to do- a Biology test to study for on Monday, and maybe, just maybe, she wanted to take some time out for herself. But Ethan had begged and nagged and perhaps muttered something about having an uncool girlfriend and no, normally she wouldn’t let a comment like that bother her but it had been Ethan who’d said it and Ethan was the one currently keeping her higher up on the high school pecking order than a geeky, ginger, and glasses-wearing girl should be. And so she had caved in, gone to this party at the behest of Ethan only to be ditched within the hour. Where the hell was he anyway?

She finds him in the living room, sat amongst his friends as they try to play beer pong and fail miserably.

“Hey Danes,” Ethan greets when he sees her. “Where’re you been this whole time?”

“Kitchen,” Dana responds and doesn’t elaborate. “Can I talk to you?”

Ethan stares at her when she says no more and fortunately gets the hint.

“Sure,” he says, standing up, wobbling a bit as he does so. He makes an effort to laugh at himself and some of his friends let out a light chuckle as he slowly manoeuvres himself around the furniture, coming towards her.

“Sup?” he asks, leaning against the wall for what Dana assumes is balance. He’s so close to her Dana can smell the same pissy drink she was drinking earlier and takes a step back in disgust.

“I want to go home,” she says plainly.

Ethan chuckles lightly. “Dana, I…” he lets out a huff of air. “I don’t think I can take you home.”

Her stomach drops as she looks at him, eyes glazed over and a stupid grin on his face. Ethan was her only ride home.

“Maybe you could ask someone els3?” Dana scoffs. “Or…or stay. Plenty of people are staying, camp out in a spare room with the girls or something…”

She doesn’t remind him of how little she knows anyone here. “It’s fine,” she says instead. “I’’ll…I’ll just walk it.”

“Dana, I can’t let you walk it.”

“Then I’ll call my dad.”

“He doesn’t know you’re here, remember.”

She stares at him for a moment.

“Could you not sober up?” she asks in a quiet voice.

“Dana…the party’s just started.”

She nods. Got it. No ride home from Ethan tonight.

“Ring this house when you get home, okay?” He starts heading back towards his friends. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

“I don’t even have-“ But Ethan is gone, back to his beer pong game. “Marcus’ number…” Dana finishes. She watches him one last moment, completely ignoring her as he laughs and plays and takes another gulp of his drink, then she stalks through the crowd and out the front door.

The garden is mostly empty. With the main birthday party happening in the basement and the curtains drawn, no one would be any wiser to a bunch of high schoolers getting drunk inside. Dana sits down on a bench overlooking Marcus’ mini golf course A few stoners and those also unwanted loiter around but they ignore her as much as she ignores them. The only thing on her mind was how was she getting home.

“Marcus would be the prick to have a golf course, wouldn’t he?”

Dana turns around to the source of the voice. There stands a boy she actually recognises; tall, brown hair, sporty. The type of boy every girl (and maybe boy) would whisper about, want, a trophy boyfriend that would get them high place on the pecking order…if only he wasn’t so low himself. His reputation destroys any hope of being popular, of being wanted by any of the significant girls, so much so that Phoebe Green refuses to acknowledge a relationship between the two ever even happened. He is Spooky Mulder to pretty much everyone, a disgrace to the science world of their school, and a joke to everyone else. The sweatshirt he always wears bearing the letters TS0UP is the cause of that damning reputation.

“You don’t know who I am, do you?”

Dana regards him cooly. “I know who you are, Mulder.”

He smiles at that, a smile that would make any girl weak at the knees, but Dana stands strong, watching him with the caution of watching a bear (or a Big Foot, the creature popping into her mind but she banishes that again. What did Big Foot look like anyway?)

They shared a Psychology class together. Dana only took it because she was taking pretty much every other science, may as well tack psychology onto the list as well. Mulder, however, seemed to generally enjoy it, always listening, always doing well in tests. It was his participation that dragged his grades down, though, he never spoke, just listened. Anywhere else and that would have been endearing.

There was another time they’d met each other, however. 6th grade Geography were they had been paired together for a project. There topic was Bashful Peak in Alaska and they had spent weeks building a model of the mountain- weekends and after school spent at Mulder’s house creating it was a very fond memory Dana still had. They had done a presentation on it as well, both received an A+ for their work.

They hadn’t spoken to each other much after that, only a brief smile in the halls. When they got to high school, Dana climbed the ladder as Mulder fell, and they stopped acknowledging each other all together.

“I’m just wondering why you’re here,” Dana questions as kindly as she can. He went to less parties than she did.

Mulder shrugs. “Wanted to see what all the fuss was about, I didn’t get in the front door, though. You, however…” He cocks his head to the side. “I didn’t realise you were best friends with Marcus Shelby.”

At that she can’t help but smile.

“I’m not. Ethan…” She tries to find the words to describe. “Marcus knows of Ethan so…”

“So you got invited as a plus one. But you’re not in there, you’re out here.”

“I’m trying…I want to go home…Ethan…is- was- my ride back and…” She didn’t want to explain to a stranger that she doesn’t have a car.

“But Ethan is passed out somewhere?” Dana doesn’t say otherwise. “I’ll tell you what…” Mulder makes his way into the golf course and grabs hold of a club while still holding his drink in his other hand and holds it out for her. “Get the ball over the fence and beyond the wall, you got yourself a free ride”

Dana eyes the club and the wall nervously. “And if I don’t get it over I lose my ride?”

Mulder smiles. “I’ll still drive you-“ Relief spreads through her. “But…If I get it over you join T-soup.”

The relief vanishes. Her face drops as she eyes up his sweatshirt. Spooky Mulder’s UFO Club is a joke. No self-respecting person would ever go near it and what made it worse was it was, in fact, a class and not a club, a complete waste of school resources. He had to be kidding.

“Why?” she asks.

“Why…?”

“Why do you want me to join?”

Mulder shrugs. “I guess we could use more people who think like you. Makes it interesting.”

“No.” she outright says.

Mulder grins, undeterred. “You better hope I miss then.” He shakes the club in his hand but before Dana can grab it he pulls it back. “Just one more question. You’re not drunk, are you? I wouldn’t want you to be at a disadvantage.”

“I’m not. Are you?”

“Not a drop,” he answers.

Dana regards him. “You’re drinking,” she says, nodding to his cup.

“Orange juice.”

She doesn’t believe him.

“Try it if you don’t believe me.”

She takes the cup from his offered hand, drinking a small sip. It was orange juice. Only orange juice. She hands it back to him.

“Give me the club then.”

At the end of the day, it didn’t matter if she got the ball over the wall, she was getting her part of the deal regardless. She only starts to worry when it’s Mulder’s turn. He places the ball down, lines the club up with it as perfect as he believes it is and hits it. The ball soars over the fence, pass where Dana’s landed, all the way over to the wall.

Her heart sinks as Mulder smiles at her, unable to hide his joy.

“I’ll order you a T-soup sweatshirt as soon as possible.”

This was going to be the end of her.

#the x-files #the x files #txf fic #xfiles fanfiction #high school au #future fic ideas #scullysexualwrites

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mollybecameanengineer · 1 year

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Thanksgiving, Medium Rare

MSR | Post IWTB | 628 Words | tagging: @today-in-fic

November 25, 2009

“What do you mean everyone is coming to our house?”

Hiding in a supply closet at the hospital, Scully pinched the bridge of her nose with one hand and held the phone with the other. “Mom’s kitchen flooded while she was out and shorted out the refrigerator. So the food is all spoiled and the kitchen needs significant work to repair the damage and Bill’s family is already on a plane…” she trailed off.

“We can’t just go to a restaurant?”

“For Thanksgiving? Mulder.” She’d known he wasn’t going to be excited about this when her mom had called to ask. “We are in our 40s. We can handle hosting a family gathering.”

She heard him sigh. “Ok. Well, considering you work until nine tonight and tomorrow’s the big day, I guess this is on me.”

“I’m sorry. I have a couple minutes now if you want help making a list.”

“I think I can figure it out. So. Plan dinner, go grocery shopping, clean the house… I need to get some woodland creatures in to help.”

She smiled. “Thank you, Mulder-rella.”

“Where’s the turkey?”

“About that.” He joined her in front of the open fridge. “They didn’t have any more at the store. So.” He reached in, grabbing a hunk of red meat. “Thanksgiving steaks!”

She stared at him for a long moment. “You’re serious.”

“What? I know how to cook these, they’re delicious, and, by the way, more expensive per pound than a turkey. I think this really shows the high esteem in which we hold our guests.”

As if her family didn’t already question all her choices in life, she was now going to serve them Thanksgiving steaks.

She was mashing potatoes when her mom joined her in the kitchen. “Steak is an interesting choice.”

Though Scully agreed, she knew she had to present a united front with Mulder on this. “There weren't a lot of options at the store. And steak is delicious. Mulder is very good at grilling it.”

“Ok, honey.” Her mom didn’t sound terribly convinced.

“Why can’t we have turkey?” Bill and Tara’s eldest whined as everyone began serving themselves.

Despite her love for her nephew, she wanted to smack him upside the head at the moment. She’d spent the day in the kitchen with Mulder making sides. Her feet hurt. The table was laid with a pretty good meal on less than twenty four hours notice, and all everyone could focus on was the lack of a stupid turkey.

“Matt, we’ve been over this,” Tara cut in. “Be thankful for the wonderful meal your aunt and uncle prepared.”

Scully saw Bill bristle at Mulder being his child’s uncle, before saying, “Next year we’ll have a real Thanksgiving, son.”

Good lord, this day couldn’t be over soon enough.

“We are never hosting again.”

“Aw, come on Scully, it wasn’t that bad.”

She leaned against him, and his arm dropped from resting on the couch to wrapping around her shoulder.

“You realize this is going to go down in family lore. The time when loony Aunt Dana and Uncle Mulder served steaks at Thanksgiving. It’s like the Thanksgiving that Missy had the stomach flu and threw up all over the table.”

“I don't know how you can compare steaks to barf.”

She chuckled. “You’re right. It was better than barfs-giving.”

He kissed the top of her head. “A ringing endorsement for our cooking if I ever heard one.”

She turned to look up at him. “Thanks for putting all this together. And sorry everyone was an ass about the steaks.” She stretched her neck to give him a peck on the lips. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.” He stroked her arm, before returning his attention to the TV.

#x files fanfic #the x files #thanksgiving

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darkesttimelinestuff · 6 months

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"We can't do this on our own."

Day 19 and we're closing in on the end of the month! Holy cow!

Prompt #18 - "We can't do this on our own."

Check out the rest of my fics here!

Thanks for reading!

The wind blew, clouds obscuring the sun. What had started out as a lovely, albeit cold, day was turning into a dreary one. The forecast called for possible snow, but that would not deter Scully.

“Scully, we can’t do this on our own,” Mulder called up to her. “Maybe we should call the Gunmen. They have the right gadgets or tools or… whatever… for this.”

“Don’t worry, I have this!” Scully declared. “Now hand me that!”

Mulder hesitated, looking down at his hand, then handed Scully, situated on their roof, the chord. She grabbed it and got to work.

“I hope you know what you’re doing,” Mulder sighed warily from below.

Still tinkering and adjusting the chord, she confidently replied, “I do.”

And with that the entire roof and walls of the house lit up with Christmas lights. The lawn sparkled. It was a sight to behold. The unpaved driveway was lined with bright twinkling snowflakes, the trees glittered, the house was a classic Christmas masterpiece. Scully smiled at her work.

“Wow,” Mulder marveled as Scully climbed down the ladder, “you really did it.”

“While Charlie and Missy had seances to call the spirits of the recently departed Scullys every year, I used to help my dad and Bill decorate the house. Inside and out. I’m a pro at this, Mulder,” she said, standing next to him. His arm curled around her, and he leaned in, kissing the top of her head.

“I’m sorry I doubted you. Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas. Never do it again.”

“Never,” he promised. “Clark Griswold would be proud.”

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randomfoggytiger · 1 year

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X-Files Collector’s Edition: Coming Home to Their Unremarkable House

Whether they be road-weary, discouraged at their losses, or happy in each other, Mulder and Scully always carve out a piece of the world for themselves to bunker into. These fics are a few variations on finding their perfect home.

Loose canonical order below~ Canon Timelines

@purrykat/mylifeinshadow‘s Maps for the Getaway

““She’d lost so much, sacrificed so much. Little more than five minute phone calls to her mother on store bought burner phones to connect her to her old life. You’ve considered it so many times, just up and leaving. You’d be doing her a favor, allowing her a freedom she hadn’t known since walking into your office nearly ten years ago. Every time you’ve talked yourself into it, the mere sight of her so small in an over sized hotel bed, clutching a blanket, the last remaining connection to her son, and you’d found yourself breaking down instead. So selfish. So, so selfish. But not anymore.””

Mulder is so moved by Scully’s noble sacrifices that he puts his “selfishness” aside to get her what will truly make her happy.

CSM’s Home Sweet Home

““She can see a rainbow of emotions fly across Dana’s face before she nods her head in agreement. Dana finger’s curl around her own phone, the metallic blue of the Razor glistening in the bright sunlight.

“Do you need to make a call before we go?” Anna Maria asks her kindly.

Dana shakes her head, “I want to see the house before I call, makes no sense getting….I prefer to see the house first.””

Monica’s realtor aunt gets two interesting clients; but loyalty to her niece keeps her nose directly out of their business.

Chibiness’s Impulse Buy

““Missy told her once her impulsiveness would only end her up in trouble; that no good could ever come from an impulse buy. So she swapped her impulsive attitude from clothes to life choices.

Like swapping her focus from medicine to the FBI.

And getting a tattoo on a dare.

And running away from her respected life to a life on the lam.””

Scully impulsively buys a house for Mulder; but her happiness drops when she thinks Mulder doesn’t want it. Happily, that is not the case.

@atths--twice’s (Ao3, Alt. Ao3, FFN) Refuge

““We need food, Mulder. I will be fine.”

“I know. I just…”

“I know.”

Scully sneaks Mulder to their new home; and sneaks back out to surprise him with a little celebration for his birthday.

@crossedbeams‘s (Ao3) Mulder, it doesn't go in like that!

““Scully’s objections are swallowed by gravity as Mulder risks her wrath and uses his strength to tug her over the arm and on to the seat.””

Mulder cares for one thing and one thing only: to shove his leather couch in. The rest of the furniture can be done later (and he’s successfully convinces Scully with his usual brand of logic.)

@hipsbef0rehands/Millenial_Falcon’s (WBM/WBM) A Nice Hike in the Woods (Ao3)

““He had been trying hard to make their new house a home, feeling responsible for dragging her into this new life. For Thanksgiving he had attempted to cook a small turkey unsuccessfully. They ended up salvaging what parts of the bird they could and making sandwiches with a side of potatoes and green beans.””

Scully sees Mulder’s desperate scramble to turn their UH into a home for her. She follows him into the woods, and is surprised by his kindness.

@scullyphile‘s (Ao3) Unnamed

““The Lone Gunmen were over to her apartment for the first time since she brought their son home. They had laughed with her and Mulder about old times and doted on their son like proud uncles. Before they left, Byers had produced a camera.

“I want to get a shot of the happy family,” he’d said.””

While moving in, Scully finds a happy family photo that TLG had taken... before the dark times.

@seek-its-opposite (Ao3, WBM) the second law of motion

““Mulder smiles, grabs both of her palms in his long fingers. And kneels.“Mulder, what—?”

“Dana Scully,” he begins, solemn as a sacrament. “Will you watch paint dry with me?”

This is the man she married under a made-up name in a one-stoplight town, in sickness and in health and under threat of state-sanctioned execution. She loves him.””

Mulder and Scully settle into their house; and agree to never mention any “lost time”, instead savoring the present.

@wtfmulder/@momdadimpoppunk‘s (Ao3) Unnamed

““Every half hour or so, he called out to her to once again be his watch. “Missed any spots?” He’d ask, careful not to get paint in his eyes when he shielded them from the sun. From her notable distance, nearly swallowed by the shade of their walnut tree, she looked up, squinted, and gave him a thumbs up. He returned to work, and she returned to the same sentence she’d been reading from the time she had sat down.””

Mulder’s blissful ignorance in his new domestic routines shields him from Scully battling emotions as she broods about a pregnancy test... which turns negative.

@scully-loves-ruthie’s Fictober Day 17

““Dusk settled outside the house. The smooth amber glow snaked its way across the front porch ushering in the promise of twilight. The air snapped with fallen leaves and a sharp chill, all the ambiance of a movie night. They’d settled into the house 2 months ago, to call the lead up to finally having a real home together harrowing would be putting it mildly. They had lived life through the rocky crags of tragedy tumbling out the other end shiny worn-down pebbles, necessary in their existence. As they repurposed their personalities and shorn love affair to fit into a happily domesticated couple, the exchange they had made was causing more than a few growing pains.””

Mulder rents Legally Blonde to shake up his and Scully’s odd feelings.

@vgcam/veredgf‘s Christmas Lights

““It was their first Christmas celebration as a couple. Not that they hadn’t been together during the past number of Christmases but this one was different. This one was being celebrated.

After hiding out in New Mexico for a good number of years they’d finally managed to find themselves a place of their own. No more moving every few days from one motel to another. No more transient jobs for Scully, no more windows they had to draw the blinds on so nobody would find out where he, Mulder, was hiding.””

Mulder’s banter hits a raw nerve of Scully’s, since they can’t welcome William to the new home she bought them. He leaves a sign up for him, anyway.

@tatooedlaura-blog‘s (Ao3, Gossamer) Her Own

““She lived in five different houses with her family, called Maggie’s current place home since she was eight, leased her condo on a yearly basis and bunked in 427 different hotel rooms in the last two years but now, as she walked into the dusty, slightly sad, sagging, weather-beaten gray farmhouse, she felt the smallest of flames flare in her chest.

She had her own home.

She had her own Mulder.””

Scully is so happy to finally own a house of her own. Mulder is interested in being introduced to ladybugs.

@greekowl87‘s (Ao3)

Gardening

““He remembered her look of surprise when he mentioned staying in a place for a few months and instead of a few weeks. He shrugged and suggested it would be a nice change of pace for them. She just gave a Mona Lisa smiled and said nothing.

She was smiling even more when she saw the house for the first time. He remembered standing in the doorway nervously as she inspected each room in her meticulous Scully-esque way. She came back, smiling. Tears in her eyes.””

Mulder buys he and Scully some plants to help put down their roots.

Summer Humidity

““Despite the window A.C. unit spitting out cold air, Scully pulled back the sheets to their bed in a haze of sleep. Sweat clung to her and she felt gross. She was hot and sweaty and she bemoaned the thought how bad summers in Virginia could get with the humidity, even with dying A.C, and how much she had forgotten in the years she had been absent. She rolled onto her stomach ungracefully, her arm making a large sweeping motion, searching for Mulder, only to find the bed empty. Her sleepy mind blinked itself awake as she sat up in bed. Mulder was nowhere to be found.

They had just purchased the unremarkable house.””

Scully finds Mulder awake one hot and sticky night, simply absorbing the feeling of their new house. She joins, content.

@debbierhea/@i-am-alittle-on-edge/thexfilesbabe ‘s (WBM, Alt. WBM)

We Wander One - Wanna Dance?

““When Scully returned to the kitchen, they put the groceries away together, picking out the best shelf in the fridge for her yogurt and the most convenient cabinet for his Flamin’ Hot Cheetos. They had fun, teasing each other and flirting as paper plates and silverware were unpacked from the final bag and Scully began making them peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. Sitting crisscross applesauce on the living room floor, Mulder and Scully ate their sandwiches and chips. While Mulder got up for two glasses of iced tea, Scully stole half of his Cheetos off his plate and when he returned, Mulder pretended not to notice, smirking to himself as he caught sight of the red stains on her fingertips.””

Mulder and Scully are so happy with their domesticity that they dance.

Unnamed

““He’s so in love it’s almost ridiculous. He always had a feeling that settling into a home would feel better for both of them, but he hadn’t realized just how much tension had been stuck between them since they hit the road. The moment she walked up the steps and took a deep breath, turned to him and said, “It’s perfect,” was the moment he realized just how much time they had spent being upset and stressed. She looked ten years younger that day, with a braid hanging over her shoulder.””

Mulder observes as Scully slowly adjusts to calm domesticity, even considering writing to Maggie.

Lolabeegood’s (mulderscreek) Gardening Day

““I'm not trying to impress anyone," she said as she turned to look at him more fully. "I just want some flowers; what's the crime in that?"

"Scully, I'm not saying..." he started and then stopped. "It's just that you've never shown much interest in...in nesting.”"

Mulder questions Scully about her new botanical bent. She finally feels “home.”

@melforbes/@claup‘s (Ao3, WBM, Alt. WBM)

““next week, she has an interview with a hospital, but if that doesn’t work out, she’ll pursue private practices, maybe even find a natural medicine clinic or two where she can apply; all she asks is that she ends up in the medical field, starts that part of her life. though she always saw life as a series of linear accomplishments, she’s beginning to understand that life extends in multiple dimensions - “like how the mantis shrimp sees, scully,” she hears him say in her head - and that there will, in fact, be places that want her.””

Scully is elated to have a home, and even more content that she has found a wholeness in her sense of self.

@lepus-arcticus‘s

Unnamed

““Silence was absence. It was the echoing emptiness of Chilmark hallways. It was mothballs folded into a pink quilt, and then stowed away in an heirloom cedar chest in the basement. It was a picture frame face-down on his mother’s bedside table. It was waking up from dreams of his son’s newborn squall. But this silence was new. He stood at the open screen door and scratched at his beard, marveling at the pillowy softness of three feet of overnight, unbroken snow. The only sound was Scully’s even breathing from the air mattress in the living room.

This silence was good, was right, was patience, was love.””

Mulder considers the newness of this silence in a home.

O Hushed October Morning Mild

““Mulder, please stop talking.” He pauses, smiling gently down at her, suddenly a little lovestruck. This is their home, he reminds himself. No more motels, no more remote hideaways. They have a home. With a porch, and a gas-burning stove, and a clawfoot bathtub, and a dusty old attic. His leather couch is out of storage, their books together on the shelves. In the last few weeks of living here, he’s felt strange, like he’s been peering in from the outside at the life of another, luckier man.””

Mulder’s joy over his new domesticity with Scully bubbles over in October.

@leiascully‘s (Ao3) Housewarming (Ao3)

““I love this,” she said, the words cloudy in the air. She’d always been afraid of that before, she thought, that if she told him she loved him, it would linger between them, tangible. She wasn’t afraid now. Whatever she didn’t have, she had him, and they had the house, and they had built something solid between them, somewhere between the Southwest highways and the trail through the woods.””

Mulder chops wood for he and Scully to admire in their new home while they brew up plans for the future.

FridaysAt9′s Five Christmases - Chapter 5

““I also bought cinnamon rolls and fruit when I was out yesterday, so we can have a nice breakfast.”

“Is there bacon?”

“Maybe,” she said with a smile.

“Dana Scully,” he said with a teasing tone. “Are you giving us an idyllic Christmas?””

Mulder calls Maggie for a home warming and Christmas dinner all rolled in one.

@iwtbscully/@jewish-mulder/@anders-hawke/BananaChef‘s Enigmatic

““He beckons her over and she goes with a sigh as if she truly disapproves, laying down next to Mulder on her side. “Alright, but only because I love you.”

“That’s funny, ‘cause I love you, too,” he replies, rolling over to face Scully with a grin. “I guess we’re in agreement.”

“I love you and our creaky house in rural Virginia. Say hi to your mom for me tomorrow.””

Mr. and Mrs. Egotistical have fun settling into their new routines. Mulder, particularly, loves getting Scully out of work early.

Canon-Divergent/AU Timelines

@scully-loves-ruthie’s Unnamed

““All immediate reservations aside she’d grab his hand, the slap of the screen door a symphony of forgotten charges, dead bodies being dragged across the threshold finally laid to rest.

“Here,” She’d say as she beckoned him against what would surely be his office door. “Is where we’ll fight about you leaving trails of sunflower seeds on the floor. A chocking hazard if I’ve ever seen one.””

S8 Mulder and Scully map out their son’s future growth on the walls of the Unremarkable House. It all ends squashed hopes. (I like to skip the sad ending and Frankenstein it into my happier headcanon post S8.)

@postmodernpromartheus‘s Unnamed

““Life with a baby on the lamb is nothing but a challenge. The endless running is wearing on her and Mulder. Will, however, is just as happy as calm. It’s his normal, and she’s begun to wonder how much therapy he’s going to need as a teenager.””

Mulder helps Scully to heal the broken bond Maggie had shattered when her daughter and grandson vanished onto the open road. In return, Maggie helps them get their Unremarkable House.

Tess’s (Alt. Ao3) Take No Chances

““To the funeral," he clarified.

"I can't, Mulder. How? There's no..." She shook her head in automatic denial. "I can't," she repeated.

"Scully... your mother's funeral... surely we can find a way.”"

Mulder is shattered to have to tell Scully about Maggie’s death; but he is blown away by her strength and belief in her mother’s love and understanding.

@iwtbscully/@jewish-mulder/@anders-hawke/BananaChef‘s

Unnamed

““For legal reasons,” she elaborated. “We can get a higher tax return, and there’s marital benefits in the event that one of us is injured.”

He looked away and nodded. “Makes sense.”

“We can go down to the courthouse in a couple days to do it. Sound good?”

“Yeah,” Mulder replied, not meeting her eyes.

Scully suggests marriage practically; but Mulder is soon heartened to find out his wife does, indeed, have a romantic streak as well.

@dashakay‘s (Ao3, Gossamer)

Fabric of Our Lives

““Dr. Cooper-Gowdy, my obstetrician, is one of the foremost specialists in high-risk pregnancy. She has given me every pre-natal test known to medicine and the results have all come back within normal parameters. This is the thread I cling to, the only thing that keeps my sanity during this endless waiting.

And Mulder, of course. Through the years in the FBI, working on the X-Files, we kept each other sane. The terror, the tragedy, the loss were enough to send the healthiest of psyches completely to the brink, but we managed to keep each other from splintering apart.””

Mulder and Scully are married, mortgaged, and medically bed-bound all in the hopes her IVF miracle won’t succumb to the placenta previa diagnosis. She quilts for her family while she waits.

Bound Together With Invisible Cord

““I once told Scully I'd walk through fire for her. I did not say those words lightly. She would do the same for me. She has, a hundred times over. It is getting late.

She has been asleep for at least five hours.””

Mulder waits for Scully to wake from her drugged sleep, reminiscing over their relationship and their daughter.

@lyndsaybones’s (Ao3)

AU where Mulder and Scully move in together circa S7?

““She wants grass, a place where they can see the stars. The more she thinks about it, the more she likes it.

“You wouldn’t be able to just go around the corner for milk and bread, you know,” he reminds her, looking at the real estate ads.

“I know.”

He nods and smiles, goes back to searching.””

Even though the IVF fails, Mulder insists he and Scully still buy the UH.

Follow up AU where Scully gets to rock William in the white chair

““She’s too tired to get up on a sunny Saturday morning. They were meant to be pulling the million year old tile backsplash out of the kitchen today, but she’s just so sleepy.””

After Scully collapses during their home renos, she and Mulder speed up their house projects before the impending arrival of their son.

There we go!

Enjoy!

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ismelinor · 10 months

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A Dustaland Fairytale (7/12)

Read on AO3 | tagging @today-in-fic

Chapter 7: Out of the Woods

I’m sorry says the little girl.

Scully blinks at her. She’s never heard the girl’s voice before. Why are you sorry? she asks, though she’s more interested in her surroundings. They’re in the forest, but around her the trees are blinking in and out of existence, like they can’t decide whether they want to be there or not. It’s making Scully’s head hurt.

You’ve got to decide now says the little girl, but Scully doesn’t want to decide. It’s nice here – this place in flux. There's something so peaceful about indecision. The ground beneath her starts blinking too: it can’t make up its mind whether it’s grass or ash.

Please. You need to decide. Scully wants to tell the girl that she shouldn’t sound so worried. She’ll have time to worry once she’s all grown up.

The little girl grabs her arm. Her fingers are so small, but they’re the only solid thing in this dream world. Scully tries to focus.

I have to decide whether to stay or go, don’t I? she asks.

The girl nods. Scully understands. Her father is waiting for her in a world of trees and grass, but he’s always been a patient man. Mulder and Missy and Samantha are in the world of ashes, and they need her home. It’s an easy choice.

I want to go back she tells the girl. Emily, her name is. Scully knows that now.

Emily nods.

Flames start to lick at Scully’s feet, and the world turns white.

Scully woke in as dignified a manner as her headache allowed: she groaned loudly and buried her face in her bedspread. It didn’t help that whoever was in the room with her took that as an excuse to yelp, and summon a second noisemaker, who started prodding at her.

It took a few minutes for Scully to open her eyes against the pain and acknowledge her two noisy companions as Missy and Skinner, who were both crying, which seemed a little dramatic. Her headache wasn’t that bad.

It took a further few minutes for Scully to understand what Missy was telling her: that she was in her bed in Camelot, where Mulder had delivered her after finding her unconscious and unresponsive in the dirt. She’d been lying there, dead to the world, for two days. But it was worse than that – she’d been missing for months before Mulder had found her. They’d all been out of their minds with worry.

This seemed to remind Skinner that Mulder should be told she was conscious, and he rushed out of the room.

Missy grabbed her hand and kissed her knuckles. “You can’t imagine how worried I was, Danes.”

No, Scully couldn’t imagine – the thought of losing Missy was so dreadful she couldn’t even entertain it – but she could see something of it in her eyes. Missy had always been the positive one in their family: she genuinely believed in the good in all people, and her faith, while a little mystical for Scully’s tastes, had always seemed immutable. Now, though, her eyes had taken on a haunted look.

“It doesn’t suit you,” Scully croaked, voice scratchy from disuse and dehydration, she supposed.

“What doesn’t, sweetie?”

“Worry. You should be smiling.” That was about all Scully managed before she passed out again.

~~~

The next time Scully woke, she was alone, and she felt much better – almost back to normal, in fact. She couldn’t wrap her head around the idea that she’d been gone, and worse, that she couldn’t remember any of it.

What she did know for certain was that she almost died. Perhaps she’d had a choice in the matter, or perhaps that was a fever dream, but regardless, she could have died: would have, if Mulder hadn’t found her. There were things she would have regretted if she had: things she should have told people, experiences she should have had, love she should have given and received.

Her fight with Mulder was at the forefront of her mind: for him, it might have been several months past, but to her it felt fresh. She’d hated that distance between them, and she hated that she’d put it there. But hadn’t she been doing that from the start? – because there was one last wall between them, one secret that she’d been holding onto for far too long. And Mulder was all about the truth. It would hurt him, doubtless, that she hadn’t told him before – but it was better late than never.

She didn’t want to lie to him for one moment longer.

She struggled out of bed, downed the water left on her table, and dressed herself as well as she could while fending off dizziness. The walk down to the basement felt interminable, but the walls got less fuzzy as she moved, which she counted as a good thing. Her hand wouldn’t quite co-operate in turning the handle of Mulder’s door, so she attempted the manoeuvre with her hip and half-tripped into the room.

The moment Mulder caught sight of her, he rushed over and started fussing. “What are you doing up, Scully? Didn’t Skinner tell you to rest?”

“I’m fine, Mulder.” He stared at her incredulously. “I will be fine.”

Mulder only shook his head, smiling a little sadly.

She took a deep breath. Gods, was she really doing this? What if it changed everything?

“There’s something I need to tell you, Mulder. I…”

He reached out and put a hand on her shoulder, steadying her. “You know you can tell me anything, Scully.”

“Um…I don’t really know how to start. When I was traveling from Ealdor – the journey, I mean, it’s not really safe for a woman to travel like that, you understand.”

“You brought a woman with you?”

“No, Mulder-”

“You let her travel on her own? That wasn’t very chivalrous of you, Scully.”

“There is no woman, Mulder.”

Mulder blinked. “What happened to her?”

“By the gods, Mulder, I’m the woman.”

Mulder stared at her dumbly. Then his eyes flicked down to her chest.

She wiped a hand across her face.

“I’m wearing a glamour.”

“A glamour?”

“Yes, it’s like…a little push, in your mind, so that you see what I want you to see. I can…I’ll take it off now, alright?”

She withdrew the little tendril of magic reaching out to him.

He looked truly dumbfounded. “You’re a girl-a woman! I…I…you’ve seen me naked!”

Scully couldn’t help the, ironically rather unladylike, snort she let out at that. “That’s really what you’re worried about? I’m a physician’s apprentice, Mulder, I’ve seen it all before.”

He grinned and she could feel the tension leaving her – another weight off her shoulders. He reached up to brush a thumb across her cheek, skirting over her softer features. “You really are something, Scully. Huh, I guess I don’t even know your real name.

“It’s Dana. But…I like Scully.”

“Scully it is, then. Come on, we’ve got work to do. You’ll never guess what I found in the woods this morning!”

“What, that’s it? You’re not…upset?”

“Well, I’m certainly surprised. But it doesn’t make a difference to who you are. I’ve grown up with Sam – I know women can kick ass just as well as men. And I know you can kick my ass any day of the week.

Scully laughed a little incredulously. “I didn’t want things to change between us.”

“They won’t. You’re my best friend, Miss Dana Scully. I’m only sorry you’ll have to put the glamour back up when we leave the basement.”

“Oh, it doesn’t work like that. The glamour is still up, but now you know what to expect you’ll see me as I really am. It’s like…have you ever seen one of those visual illusions from Skinner’s books where you can see either a duck or a rabbit, depending on your perspective, but never both at the same time?”

Mulder was giving her a look she was quickly becoming familiar with, like she had all the answers he needed. She blushed and ducked her head.

“Speaking of animals – here,” he hooked a finger under his collar and pulled out a necklace. Her good luck charm, she realised.

“Oh, I thought I’d lost that forever! I was so dreading telling Missy.”

“It was on the ground where you…and I thought I’d better keep it safe for you.”

He placed it around her neck. “There, it looks much better on you. I couldn’t work out if it was supposed to be a wolf or a cat.”

Scully laughed. “It’s a fox. Missy said I reminded her of one – it’s the red hair, I suppose.”

Mulder looked stunned. “Scully, my given name is Fox!”

“Your name is Fox?”

“Yes, it’s a ridiculous name. But you know what this means – we were destined to meet!”

Scully rolled her eyes at him fondly. “I don’t believe in destiny, Mulder. Or, we make our own destinies, at least.”

Mulder grinned. “Well, come on then, Scully. There’s a set of monster tracks in the forest with ‘destiny-making’ written all over them. I’m making you eat something first, though. You look about ready to drop.”

~~~

And that was that – her secret was out, she was back where she belonged, and they were off running after monsters once again. Things were not exactly the same, though. Whether it was simply the relief of having her back again, or his notions of chivalry, Scully noticed a very slight change in the way that Mulder treated her. She caught him…well, looking at her, more often – watching for her reactions to things, or just watching her, like he was afraid she’d disappear if she was out of sight. And shoulder punches or pinches to the side were replaced with hugs and the occasional kiss to the top of her head. It was sweet, really. Scully wasn’t sure if Mulder noticed he was treating her differently, but it was such a pleasant shift that she couldn’t bring herself to tell him off for it. She could learn to accept the sweet smile he saved just for her, and the grounding weight of his arm across her shoulder.

There were worse things in life.

AN: I’m off on holiday now, so the next chapters will be coming in a week or so :) stay tuned for Eddie van Blundht causing mischief and mayhem, heartsick sorcerer Holman who can’t control his magic, and a long overdue love letter.

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baronessblixen · 6 months

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Prompt: "Who takes care of you?"

Set after "Our Town", before "Anasazi": Melissa shows up at her sister's apartment, demanding a few answers. (wc: 1,241)

Tagging @today-in-fic @xffictober2023

Fictober Day 25: Another Banner Year

Scully opens the door after a series of frantic knocks. As soon as she does, Melissa barges into her apartment, her hair as furiously red as her face.

“Well, hello to you, too,” Scully says while her sister just stares at her with a wild look. The anger on her face is a familiar sight that reminds her of her childhood.

“Why didn’t you call me? You never call me.”

“What is this about?” she asks, closing the door finally. Melissa throws her coat on the couch, frustrated. She sighs heavily; the plight of a big sister.

“I always have to find out from Mom that you got hurt. Again.” Scully winces. Her sister wasn’t supposed to find out. Neither was her mother. Mulder insisted she get checked out, have her wound cleaned professionally, and talk to someone. She maintained that she was fine, but her trembling body betrayed her words and Mulder wouldn’t take no for an answer.

“Mom wasn’t supposed to know either if it’s any consolation. Mulder called her.”

“Your partner needs to do better.”

“It wasn’t his fault I got injured,” she says, feeling defensive. “It’s the job.”

“Oh, Dana,” Melissa says with a sigh, patting the empty space beside her on the couch. Scully follows the invitation reluctantly. “I know it’s not his fault. I meant he should have called me.”

“In case you haven’t noticed, Missy, I’m an adult and don’t need to tell anyone when I get hurt on the job.”

“Dana, we worry about you.”

“And I don’t want you to.”

“We love you,” Melissa says, a wistful expression on her face. “We will always worry about you. Especially after… it has been a difficult year, Dana.”

“Don’t I know it,” she mumbles, touching the newest cut on her forehead. “So if you’re here to yell at me for not calling you, then please, do it now so I can go back to bed.”

“It’s not why I’m here. I brought wine,” Melissa says with a wink. “I just wanted to see that my baby sister was fine.”

“I am fine,” she says, meaning it. She has to be. Melissa has a point she herself has been trying to ignore. This year has been more than a lot. But if she lets herself think about it too much, she will surely break. She refuses to let the shadowy figure of her nightmares and the Donnie Pfasters of the world take more from her than they already have.

She’s been beaten up, thrown around, and almost killed several times this year. There’s no telling how much Melissa knows about it. If she doesn’t mention any of it, maybe they can pretend none of it happened. It’s what she’s been trying to do for months. She needs to keep going. She needs to keep looking forward, not backward.

“Then get us wine glasses!” Melissa laughs, taking the bottle out from her bag, while Scully gets two glasses. She won’t be able to drink more than one because of the painkillers she’s been described but that won’t stop her from clinking glasses with her sister.

“We need to catch up on things,” Melissa says, pouring them each a glass of red wine. “How’s life going? I never see you anymore. What’s happening when you’re not getting hurt?”

“The job is demanding.” Scully takes a sip from the wine and closes her eyes. When has she last indulged? When has she last been home, just lounging around? Or read a book? “There’s nothing else going on.”

“I don’t believe you.” Melissa has already downed half her glass. “Who takes care of you, Dana?”

“I take care of myself.”

“Oh please.” Her sister rolls her eyes. “Are you serious?” Scully just nods, taking another sip from her wine. “You can’t be serious. With that partner of yours?” She feels the heat in her cheeks. “You’re blushing!” Of course, her sister can read her like an open book. “So tell me, Dana, how is he?”

“What do you mean?” She has a good idea what her sister is talking about but maybe she’s wrong.

“You know.” Melissa waggles her eyebrows. “I’ve seen you two together. Fox – sorry, Mulder – is so into you.” Scully feels like she’s traveled back to her teenage years, when they’d sit on Melissa’s bed, talking about boys while they listened to music so that their brothers couldn’t eavesdrop.

“He’s not into me,” she says. “We’re colleagues.” That word doesn’t do them justice at all. “We’re friends. We’re partners.” The more she talks, the hotter her cheeks get.

“You can be so blind, Dana. You need to trust me on this.”

“Have you consulted your Tarot cards?” Scully asks. That is what happened last time. She’d been 16 then and hung on her sister’s every word. Back then, the cards had promised that her crush – Roberto – was just as into her as she was into him. The cards had been very, very wrong and young Dana nursed a severe heartbreak, promising herself she’d never trust Melissa’s Tarot cards ever again.

“I don’t need my cards. I have eyes, Dana. And I’ve seen his aura. You two are perfect for each other.”

“Of course.” She chuckles.

“You don’t believe me, but just you wait. Have you really never done anything with him? Not even a kiss?” Her sister seems disappointed.

“No, we haven’t.” She tries her best not to sound too upset.

“I think I need to have a conversation with your Mulder.”

“He’s not “my” Mulder and no, you don’t. What about you? Instead of trying to fix my love life, you should focus on yours.”

“I have no complaints.” The gleam in Melissa’s eyes piques Scully’s interest.

“Who is he?” she asks.

“Her name is Monica.” Melissa glances at her, torn between bravado and reservation.

“I’m so happy for you, Missy,” Scully says, meaning every word. She puts a hand on her sister’s leg and she squeezes it.

“You’re the first one I’ve told. She’s amazing, Danes.” Scully has seen her sister in love plenty of times, but she knows that whatever her sister and Monica have together is something different entirely.

“You’re in love,” she says, not even trying to hide her smile. Melissa ducks, her lips breaking into a bright smile, and nods.

“That’s what I want for you too, Dana. You and Mulder… give it a try. You of all people should know how short life is. Who knows what’s going to happen tomorrow? Do you want to leave this earth without having kissed him? Hell, I was tempted to kiss him! He has beautiful lips, doesn’t he?”

“I’ve never noticed.” Melissa playfully hits her, laughing. “Fine, he has beautiful lips. And eyes. He’s cute, okay?”

“So?”

“So what?”

“You like him, Danes. I want to go on double dates with you. I think Fox and Monica would like each other. And I’m curious.”

“About what?” She takes another sip from her wine, feeling slightly dizzy already.

“I want to know how he kisses.”

“I wouldn’t tell you.”

“Oh, you would.” Melissa is grinning. “Promise me to at least think about it, okay? Watch how he looks at you, Dana. And we need to do this more often. I miss you.”

“I miss you, too. I want to meet Monica."

“You will. Soon. Now let's drink for tomorrow we may die." They spend the night talking and laughing, the way sisters do.

#fictober23 #so happy i wrote this early in the day #so all i have to do now is post #can't miss fictober you know #msr #xf fanfic #my writing #my fic

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frangipanidownunder · 1 year

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Hi Vicky :) I have a prompt if you've got time and creativity for one... How does Maggie and Scully's first meeting go after they return from being on the run? I love looking at how Maggie relates to the other characters, and she's been fairly popular in the chat recently.... would you write that scene?

I WROTE A THING! This prompt is super old but it caught my attention today so I scribbled this quick fic in response. Apologies for my rustiness.

Belonging

Rated G. Angst. IWTB era.

She arranges to meet her at a café in the next town over. The house is out of the question. She doesn’t feel she belongs there yet. She doesn’t feel she belongs anywhere yet. She hasn’t belonged for a long time. A different Scully, would have once said she belonged to the X-Files, to the team, to the ideals that propped up the unit, to the belief. Would she have pulled up short at considering she belonged to Mulder? At one time, perhaps she did. Perhaps he belonged to her too, and they were two halves of a whole, not just a working partnership, but an embodiment of one force against another. The truth versus the lies. But now she’s not sure. Fox Mulder belongs to his own private thoughts and dreams, to the scribblings in his study, to the unintelligible murmurings in his sleep. She spends her days orbiting his moods, trying not to relent to the gnawing feelings of resentment and doubt. The house was supposed to plant them in the now and offer a starting block for their future together. But if anything, it seems to have tugged open the stitches of his past wounds and he is spiralling into a dark place where she cannot, will not, follow.

She pulls up in the parking lot next to a small strip of shops where the café promises an hour of comfort and escape behind its quaint façade. At least, that’s what Scully hopes she’s coming for. As she walks past the other outlets offering antiques, artisanal bread and baked goods, home-made toys, clothing that reminds her of Missy, so much so that she has to stop and breathe. She dry-swallows and blinks away memories of a home long ago, where she did belong, a home where boundaries were drawn and aspirations were shared and secrets were whispered in moonlit bedrooms as things to be held in awe, not buried with unspoken horrors and stunted futures.

She pushes open the door, twenty minutes early, enough time to settle and plan her conversation, think about which moments from the past few years to share and which to gloss over. Which to deny outright. Her mind is sifting through towns and motels and cars and arguments and hair-colours and close-calls with cops and receptionists and surrendering, when Maggie walks in. Also early. Also looking pensive, tired, and perhaps, Scully thinks, a little angry by the way she clips across the floor and pulls out the chair opposite to slip off her coat and hang it, rather than hugging her daughter first.

“Dana, honey,” she says at last, holding the back of Scully’s head in her small, still-gloved hand, denying her the feel of her wedding and engagement rings pressed into her skull, “I’ve missed you so much. Where did you go?” She pulls away and holds Scully’s cheeks, the wool from her gloves cool and wiry against her skin. Maggie’s eyes are watery, maybe from the cold, maybe not. She repeats her rhetorical question in a strained whisper that Scully barely hears over the hum of the coffee machine. “Where did you go?”

“Everywhere, nowhere,” Scully replies, sinking into the chair and chuffing out a bitter laugh. “But we’re back now.”

Maggie removes her gloves and Scully sees the knots of arthritis in her knuckles, the liver spots, the way her rings clank around her too-thin fingers. “How’s Fox?”

“He sends his love,” Scully says, picking up the menu, unable to meet her mother’s enquiring eyes. She’d left him hunched over his desk and told him she was going to get some plants for the yard. She can see rows of tomatoes and beans and corn, she can hear the gentle give of young carrots being freed from the earth, she can imagine him in a sun-hat swigging water from a canteen as he nurtures life from the soil. But she knows it’s her dream. She can only share it with him in the hope that it seeps into his consciousness and pulls him out of his backward-looking slump.

The waiter comes over and they order the same, black coffee, a slice of the vegetable quiche. They smile, turn at the sound of a baby’s cries from a pram stowed next to a table at the back. It’s mother rocks the handle but the baby doesn’t settle. A hard knot sits in the base of Scully’s throat. The crying ramps up to wailing and the mother scoops the infant from its bed and nestles it against the crook of her neck.

“Tara’s expecting again,” Maggie says, “early days. They haven’t announced it yet, but you’re…” Scully thinks she’s about to say ‘family’ but Maggie says ‘home now, so they can tell you themselves. Bill would love to see you.”

“We’re still settling in,” Scully adds quickly. “Boxes everywhere. You know how it is.”

Maggie doesn’t say anything and Scully can feel a shift in the atmosphere. The baby has quietened. The coffee is delivered and the aromatic steam wafts between them. Maggie’s chin tilts, her nostrils flare slightly.

“You should have told me you were going, Dana. You should have told me and I could have been there for you. Instead, I had to sit, night after night, not knowing anything, going mad with worry that you’d…”

“Mom,” she starts. The baby gurgles and Scully twists her hair over her ear so she doesn’t have to hear its sweet noises.

“No, let me finish,” Maggie snaps in a low whisper. “I thought you were dead. You and Fox. Assassinated or whatever word they use for these sorts of things. It was worse than when you were taken by that…that man. At least I had Fox then, keeping me informed, doing something to find you. This time there was nobody. Not even Skinner would help.”

“He couldn’t, Mom. It would have implicated…”

“I don’t care, Dana.” Maggie’s voice is high and strained and the mother on the other table hugs her baby a little tighter as the waiter clears his throat to deliver the quiches. When he’s gone, Maggie leans forward. “I’m your mother. I deserved to know. Bill went wild. He’s still wild.”

“Bill was born wild,” she says but regrets it instantly. She isn’t in the position to offer character assessments.

“He’s right, you know,” and Maggie doesn’t wait for Scully to ask about what, “that since you met Fox, your life hasn’t been your own. He’s pulled you away from everything you held dear. Used to hold dear. Family, the church, the law. And for what?”

The baby chuckles and the mother laughs too. She wants to scream that she has her own mind, that Mulder is family, that the church is a rock to return to, but not an anchor to weigh her down, that the law is a joke and justice is personal.

Instead, she sighs. “We couldn’t tell anyone, Mom. It was safer that way.”

“For who? Me or you?”

The icy cut of truth in Maggie’s words chills Dana and she sips her coffee, trying to stop the tremble in her hands. The baby giggles again and this time she turns towards it, her, a girl with large blue eyes and a perfect mouth and a shock of dark hair and she feels the familiar sting of tears, the burn in her nose, the squeezing pain her heart of all the things she’s lost. Time and family and careers and faith and…

Scully realises why she’s here. It’s not the comfort of being with her mother. It’s not the escape from Mulder’s exhausting moods. She’s here for reality. To be called out. To be exposed. To be seen. To be loved.

“I’m sorry, Mom,” she whispers, and reaches for Maggie’s hands, squeezing those rings into her palms and feeling the dig of the diamond clasp that contains her mother’s worry and her brother’s wrath and months of self-hatred and self-pity. She lets her forehead rest on the knot of their joint hands. Maggie drops a kiss on her crown. This is where she belongs.

#txf fanfic #my fanfiction #txf #iwtb #angst #msr

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