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baronessblixen · 2 years ago

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My Top Posts in 2022:

Speaking of jealous Mulder, would you mind writing a fic for it?

Season 7, Scully gives Mulder a pair of pants to wear that aren't his. Of course he wonders who they belong to.

Fictober Day 18 | Tagging @today-in-fic @xffictober2022 | Wc: 1,313

The Definition of Something

Lately, he’s been letting Scully drive them home from the airport. There’s one particular reason why: whenever she drives, more often than not, she takes him home with her. It’s as easy as that.

He doesn’t have to beat around the bush, try to prolong their time together, ask her whether she wants to come over to his place, or if he can hang out at hers. When Scully is the driver, he can be certain that he will end up in her apartment. Tonight is no different.

Their flight from the west coast got in late, so Scully is tired, even less chatty than usual, but he doesn’t mind. Sometimes when she’s this tired, she will snuggle close to him on the couch, or wordlessly take his hand and lead him into her bedroom.

They each carry their overnight bags upstairs into her apartment. Scully yawns and Mulder smiles at her, earning an irritated, yet amused glare back.

“Um, do you have something I can wear tonight? I ruined my pajama pants,” he says, remembering the incident from last night when Scully snuck into his motel room and they shared ice cream until they both fell asleep and the ice cream melted on Mulder’s shirt and pants.

“There’s a freshly washed pair of sweatpants in the drawer. You can wear those. We can put your dirty clothes in the machine,” she says, yawning again. “I’m just going to take a quick shower, okay? You know where everything is.” He stares after her, feeling like he should pinch himself. A mere couple of months ago they shared their first kiss and now here they are, spending time at each other’s apartments, falling asleep watching movies in bed, and mingling their dirty laundry.

Wearing a huge grin, Mulder walks into Scully’s bedroom, opening the top drawer that’s become his. He should start leaving things here, just like Scully keeps telling him to do. But for now he will wear these navy blue sweatpants that are neatly folded over an old t-shirt of his that Scully stole years ago.

The pants are clean. But, he also realizes, they aren’t his. They’re a men’s size, so they aren’t Scully’s either. They’re almost too long for him and very loose in the waist. Mulder walks around in the sweatpants, his stance wide. Who do these sweatpants belong to? They’re obviously well-worn and not new, so it’s not like Scully decided to buy him a pair of sweatpants he can wear when he’s around. And she knows his size. This is definitely not his size.

Mulder keeps pacing Scully’s bedroom and stuffs his hands into his pockets. His fingers come into contact with a crumbled-up piece of paper and he takes it out. She clearly didn’t look through them before she washed these pants. The ink is blurry, but Mulder can still read the words: ��Had a great time, Dana. Let’s do this more often!’

He has to sit down. Holding the piece of paper in his hands, he stares at it, at the words in front of him and can’t help but wonder who has worn these sweatpants before him. Someone Scully had a great time with. That can mean anything. He hears the shower in the bathroom turn off and his heart starts hammering in his chest.

He’s known her for seven years. This is Scully. In the last couple of weeks, they’ve been almost inseparable. Almost. There were a few days here and there when she was tired or busy. Could the sweatpants and the wearer of them have anything to do with that?

Scully chooses that exact moment to walk out of the bathroom. She’s in one of her favorite pajamas, her cheeks are rosy, and her wet hair wavy. No matter where his thoughts might have just drifted, being allowed to see her like this, her smiling while she walks towards him, is a gift.

“I see you found the sweatpants,” she says, cupping his cheek.

“I did,” he replies. “And I found this.” He hands her the note, his hand shaking. Scully takes it from him, her smile widening as she reads the words.

“I didn’t know he left a note.”

So it’s definitely a he, Mulder thinks. And someone who clearly makes Scully happy. He has to swallow hard. He doesn’t want to be jealous. After all, they never talked about being exclusive. Technically, they’re not girlfriend and boyfriend. They haven’t defined what they are. So far, they’ve simply been.

“What’s this worry line, Mulder? What are you thinking about?” She taps against his forehead, standing between his legs.

“The note,” he says. “It’s from another man. So are these sweatpants.”

“Yes, of course they are. I told you to bring over clothes to keep here and you keep forgetting,” she says softly, rubbing a thumb over his cheek.

“Who is it from?” He asks, needing to know.

“Why? Are you jealous?” She smiles at him and he can’t return it. His face is frozen, waiting for her answer. Before now, he has never considered himself to be a jealous man. With Scully everything is different.

“Oh my god, Mulder! You really are jealous, aren’t you?”

“I mean you can see whoever you want to see, of course. I just believed that we were, um, something.”

“Mulder, do you remember about two or three weeks ago when I told you that Bill was coming to visit? And you decided you’d spend the weekend with the Gunmen instead so you wouldn’t run into him?”

“Yes,” Mulder says slowly, not quite understanding what she’s getting at. “What does that have to with anything?”

“The sweatpants – and the note – are from Bill. We had a couple of drinks together, reminiscing. For once, we actually had a great time.”

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108 notes - Posted October 18, 2022

Angst prompt: "You keep bringing it up. Again and again! Why is that?!?"

This prompt is from 2018 (!). I'd like to say thank you for your patience, but anon is probably no longer around!

Fictober Day 6 | Tagging @today-in-fic @xffictober2022 | Wc: 1588

tw: (verbal) sexual harassment

Cold As Ice

Scully’s stomach grumbles in joyful anticipation as she loads her plate with bread rolls, meatballs, and pasta salad. Who knew the FBI could offer a decent buffet? She makes a mental note to let Mulder know about it later. She licks her lips, ready to find a quiet place to dig in, when she’s stopped by another agent she’s seen around the Hoover building a few times.

“That’s a lot of food for such a tiny lady as yourself,” he says with a slimy grin. “Or are you sharing with Spooky?”

“Agent Mulder isn’t here tonight,” she says and regrets it right away when he sees the guy’s eyes light up.

“That’s why it’s been so quiet. He always interrupts these meetings, doesn’t he?” Scully just glares at him, refusing to participate in the slander against Mulder. Truth is she misses him, just like she knew she would. But A.D. Kersh assigned them different time slots for the annual safety meeting, claiming to want an agent on call just in case. They both knew it was a bogus reason. He just wanted to separate them once more. Now here she is, all by herself, fighting off Agent Douchebag.

“I’m Clay,” he says, offering her his hand. She takes it to be polite, balancing her plate on her other hand. “Clay Matthews. Irish family, you know.” He waggles his eyebrows at her.

“Dana Scully,” she says and he nods.

“I know you.” A cold shiver runs down her back hearing his words.

“Everyone knows you and your spooky partner,” he explains, still grinning.

“Ah,” she says. “Um, Clay, I’d-”

“Want to join me?” He interrupts her. “I’ve been meaning to ask you out for ages. Just never knew how to get in there,” he says with a wink, making her feel sick. “With Spooky hanging around and all. So, what do you say? We can have a bite here and then again on Friday. You free on Friday?” Scully’s head is spinning from all he's saying.

“I don’t know, Agent Matthews, I-”

“Call me Clay,” he cuts her off again. “We’re friends, aren’t we?”

“I don’t know you,” Scully says, annoyance slipping into her voice. “And I’m not free on Friday,” she adds. A few people have turned to look at them, some very obviously watching them. A meatball rolls off her plate and Agent Matthews gets down on one knee to pick it up. He stares up at her, grinning. Slowly, without taking his eyes off her, he puts the meatball into his mouth, chewing it loudly. The sight makes her stomach turn.

“Now come on, Dana. Don’t make me beg.”

“Get up, Agent Matthews,” she says coolly. He doesn’t move. “I don’t know you and quite frankly, I don’t care to get to know you.”

“That was harsh,” the other agent says, getting up. He’s invading her personal space and Scully takes a step back, not wanting him anywhere near her.

“Would you please leave me alone now,” she says with a steady, unblinking gaze.

“Cold as ice,” Agent Matthews says, his face close to hers. “You’re as cold as fucking ice.” With that, he finally leaves her be. Scully stands there for a moment with her full plate, willing herself to stay calm and take a few deep breaths. Her appetite is gone. She watches Agent Matthews talk to a few other agents and decides to ignore him and everyone else, too. She finds a table away from the bigger groups and checks her phone while she listlessly attacks her food.

‘If you’re bored just think of your equally bored partner in the bullpen. Fuck safety meetings’. She smiles at her phone, thankful that Mulder is still with her in spirit.

Somehow, she makes it through. Every once in a while, she catches Agent Matthews staring at her. He’s not one to give up easily. When they’re done, she packs her things, wanting to see if Mulder is still at his desk. It’s late by now, but she knows him. So wrapped up in her thoughts, she doesn’t notice that someone is following her until Agent Matthews catches up with her.

“Hello again,” he says.

“Agent Matthews,” Scully replies, trying to be civil. She picks up her step, but the man is tall with long legs and matches her stride easily.

“I was just going to check again,” he says, his voice still nice enough, but Scully can hear an edge to it. She walks faster still. “Are you sure you’re not free on Friday?”

“I’m sure. I have plans.”

“You do, huh? With Spooky, I bet. But has he ever taken you to dinner, hm? Look, we got off on the wrong foot, I get that. Never ask a hungry woman for her opinion, am I right?” He laughs at his own joke.

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112 notes - Posted October 6, 2022

Since you were looking for an angsty prompt for #fictober I decided to send you one that I saw over on @angsty-plots

“Come on M/S," she/he breathed out slowly, glancing at the now setting sun. "You said you'd come back.”

Maybe you like it — and it would still work with one of your sweet endings. ☺️

Thank you so much for the prompt! I hope I succeeded with the angst. It's yet another "how did Mulder and Scully get home from Antarctica" story.

Fictober Day 3 | Tagging @today-in-fic @xffictober2022 | Wc: 1526.

We Will Find Our Way Home

“You have to stay awake,” Scully presses the words through her cracked, half-frozen lips. She doesn’t know if she’s talking to Mulder, who lies inert in her arms, or to herself. Her eyelids are heavy, threaten to close any second. If it weren’t for her chattering teeth, she’s certain that her body would have already given in. Like Mulder’s.

She looks down at her partner who is quiet and unnervingly still. Her hand trembles as she lifts it and her fingertip is so cold that she fears she won’t feel his pulse even if there is one. She sighs in relief when she finds it and feels it beating against her skin.

“Mulder,” she says with difficulty. “We need to- we have to-” But what is there to do? Where to go? Scully observes their surroundings and finds nothing but white. Behind them is the sinkhole that almost took them. They’ve cheated death once today. What if they’re out of luck now?

“Mulder,” she says again, trying to jostle him. He groans. “Stay. Awake,” she adds.

“’m awake,” he says.

“We need to get moving.” It won’t be long until the sun sets. Once it does, their chances of survival will be zero. “How did you get here?” She asks him and he glances at her, his eyes a deep dark forest green, framed by frosted eyelashes. “Mulder, I need you to work with me here.” Her lips hurt from speaking, but as long as she still feels pain she knows she’s alive.

“Sno-Cat. I have a Sno-Cat.” He turns in her arms and groans, trying to get up. Scully helps him as well as she can, but her strength hasn’t returned yet. She remains sitting there, missing Mulder’s warmth against her. There’s a bone-deep pain in her legs that drives tears to her eyes. Even if there is shelter, and even if they can find it, how is she going to get there?

“I can’t see it,” Mulder says, sounding confused. “It should be here, I- I know it was here.” Scully nods even though Mulder isn’t looking at her. He’s looking at the snow desert, at the nothingness that surrounds them. If they don’t get moving soon, they will die right here where they are. They might die anyway, Scully figures as she hoists herself up, convinced something inside her is breaking apart, but they won’t sit here and wait for it.

Mulder takes her hand into his and his touch hurts, reminding her that they’re fighting against time. He looks down at her and a worried crinkle appears on his forehead. He touches her bottom lip, his finger gently running over it.

“Cracked,” he says. “Blue. Almost as blue as your eyes.”

“We need to get going,” she says, ignoring his obvious delirium. If he breaks down again, they’re lost. They cannot lose any more time. “Doesn’t hurt,” she lies. “We need to go find the Sno-Cat.”

Every step borders on torture. Mulder has put his arm around her shoulders and she has hers around his waist. They’re holding each other up, knowing that one false step will be their demise. More tears dwell in her eyes. A year ago, she thought about dying every day. She didn’t let her cancer slow her down, but here in the snow, the elements against them, she has no choice.

There’s nothing she can do. They will die here. With every step they take, the thought becomes louder in her mind. How silly of her to think they could outrun it. They could have stayed where they are and it wouldn’t have made a difference. No matter where they go, there’s nothing but white ahead of them.

To their right, the sun is beginning to set, casting them in an orange hue. She didn’t want to die in a hospital, wilting away. Now she realizes she doesn’t want to die here either, taken by the cold, by the injustice of it all. But she knows that she will.

“Scully, I never thought I’d say this but… you’re heavy. Hey, you’re still with me?” He stops walking and she slumps against him.

“What’s the point?” She asks, clinging to him. His coat is wet and cold, but she imagines there’s still warmth underneath it all. Still her Mulder. She should be thankful that he’s here. She won’t be dying alone. When she closes her eyes, he will be here, holding her hand.

“Hey,” he says and his voice sounds like a scream in her ear, startling her. “Don’t do this, Scully. Don’t give up. I didn’t come all this way to have you give up on me. Look over there.” With his hands under her arms, he lifts her and helps her stand upright. She can’t see much through half-lidded, half-frozen eyes. There’s a black blob in the distance that she can’t make sense of no matter how hard she tries.

“That’s our safe haven. All you gotta do is hold on for a little while longer. We’re almost there.”

“I can’t, Mulder.”

“Yes, you can. You’re the strongest person I know, Scully. You can do this.”

“No, I can’t. There’s no point. You go and I- I’ll just…”

“I won’t leave you here. Come on, get on my back.”

“Mulder you were unconscious an hour ago. You can’t carry me.”

“Watch me.” He falls to his knees in front of her. “Get on.”

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112 notes - Posted October 3, 2022

Lucky

Summary: When Scully and Mulder witness a proposal she can't help but wonder how he'd ask someone to marry him. MSR, wc: 1,269

bingo square: lucky

Tagging @xfilesbingo and @today-in-fic

Regret pearls on her forehead as they make their way to their favorite diner. It was her idea, too. All she wanted was to get out of the stuffy basement, enjoy the beautiful weather and eat lunch. She should have known better.

The sun above them is relentless, wrapping them in a cocoon of heat. Her blouse is plastered to her back, despite having been outside for less than five minutes. In her ever-present need to appear professional, even in front of Mulder, she took her jacket with her. Unlike him. He’s in his dress shirt, sleeves rolled up, tie loosened.

If she were to look at him – really look at him – she’d have to admit that he looks good. Cute even. She won’t look at him, not now. She’s sweating enough as it is.

“Maybe we should skip lunch,” Mulder muses next to her, interrupting her less than proper thoughts. “Let’s get ice cream instead.”

“We need something substantial.”

“What’s your opinion on dessert, doc?”

He grins at her and if she’s learned anything in the years they’ve been working together, it’s that she can’t resist his smile. She rolls her eyes anyway, just to throw him off her scent, but his laugh tells her that as always, he can look right through her.

“Hey, what’s going on over there?” Mulder points to a commotion on the other side of the street and the silliness falls off them. Her hand flies to the holster on her hip to check if her gun is there. Heart pounding, they jog over in unison, badges in hand.

“What are they doing?” Mulder asks another passerby and the woman hushes him with an angry glare and a finger on her lips. Caught off guard, Scully chuckles. They both redirect their eyes to the two people in the middle of the sidewalk. There’s a collective gasp as the man, face red and sweaty, gets down on one knee and takes the woman’s hand into his.

“Angela, I know you said you didn’t want me to do this in front of your family. You said you wanted it to be a surprise. So here I am. I’ve been taking you to lunch as my girlfriend for almost three years now. And today… I hope today I can take you to lunch as my fiancee. I love you, Angela. What do you say? Will you make me the luckiest man on earth and become my wife?”

“Say yes!” A teenager yells, jumping up and down.

“Yes,” Angela says, crying, and falling to her knees. “Yes, of course I’ll marry you, you silly man.” Scully finds herself clapping alongside everyone else, emotions overwhelming her. She glances at Mulder, who returns her look, a glint in his eyes and a smile on his face. The cluster of people is slow to resolve, but Angela and her fiance are lost in their own little world, kissing each other from time to time.

Only when Mulder touches her back does Scully realize she’s been mesmerized by the scene in front of them. She lets Mulder lead her away and they fall into step again, taking their time.

“That was,” she says, gently shaking her head.

“Something else,” Mulder finishes for her. “He must have been sure she’d say yes. Asking her in front of all of these strangers…”

She doesn’t know what comes over her. Maybe it’s because of what they just witnessed, or the heat that’s gone to her head. But she touches his shoulder, making him look at her.

“How would you have asked?”

“Huh?” The surprise on his face is quickly replaced by softness. “How would I have asked Angela to marry me? Well, I only just met her, but-”

“That’s not what I- forget I said anything.” Embarrassment engulfs her and puts a soft glow onto her cheeks. She picks up the pace to get away from Mulder.

“Hey wait,” he says, catching up with her in two long strides. “I’m sorry. I was just surprised by your question. I’ve never- I guess I never really thought about it.”

“Forget it,” she says again. “We should get lunch so we can get back to work.”

They both get a burger and Mulder orders a large serving of fries, putting the bowl in between them like a peace offering. When she takes one, he gives her a knowing grin.

“I owe you an answer,” Mulder says, sounding shy.

“You don’t.”

“I do. I thought about it. Thought about how I’d ask.” She watches him take a fry, put it into his mouth, and chew slowly. “It all depends on who I’m asking.” The intensity in his gaze makes her shiver.

“I’m sure you can think of someone,” she says, surprised at the evenness in her voice.

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120 notes - Posted June 28, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Baby, It's Cold Outside

Summary: One bed, no heat, and no clothes. What are Mulder and Scully going to do? Wc: 2,494

bingo square: cuddling

Tagging @xfilesbingo and @today-in-fic

“I’m sorry, sir.”

While he has no doubt that the woman, who looks too young to be sitting behind the counter, is indeed sorry about his and Scully’s lost luggage, he can’t help but sigh.

“Is there any way that-,” he trails off, seeing her shake her head. She types on her keyboard, biting her lip. They’re probably not the first or only people who have stood here, asking where their things are.

“I’m really sorry,” she says again. “Your luggage is still in Washington D.C. The earliest we can get it here is… in two days.”

Two days. 48 hours. With their luck, they’re already on their way back home if this case turns out to be a waste of their time – and he’s sure that’s exactly what it is.

“Any luck with our luggage?” Scully touches his back, making him turn around to her. There’s hope in her eyes and a cup of steaming hot coffee in her hand.

“Um…”

“I told your husband,” the young woman interjects, “that we’re very sorry, but your luggage is back in Washington D.C. We can fly it in, but it won’t be here for another two days. The weather, you know.” Mulder flinches, but Scully next to him doesn’t miss a beat.

“Thank you, miss,” she says, tugging at his sleeve to make room for the next passengers right behind them.

“I’m sorry, Scully,” he says when they’re out of earshot.

“It’s not your fault, Mulder.” She takes a sip from her coffee and half moans.

“What did they put in that coffee?” He asks, his curiosity sparked.

“Chocolate.” Scully smiles at him. “Here, try it.” She offers him the cup. It’s not every day that Scully willingly shares a chocolaty treat with him so he takes it. Her eyes remain on him as he takes a sip. The warm liquid is sweet with only a hint of bitterness and he now understands why Scully just moaned. He does, too, making Scully chuckle.

“This might be the best airport coffee I have ever had. Is the barista single?” Mulder asks before he steals another sip.

“I can go back and ask him.”

“Nah, I’m good.” He returns the cup to her. “Let’s get out of here and hope the motel is more reliable than the airline.”

“What are we gonna do?” Scully asks, her breath visible. She’s put her arms around herself. They’re not dressed for this weather. At all. Mulder looks right, looks left. There’s only one thing to do and he hates it as much as she will.

He should have known. Murphy’s law is in full swing here in Sleepytown, Montana, the miraculous airport coffee merely a fluke. A mile before they arrive at their motel, the rental car sputters, clatters and then dies.

Mulder’s attempts to call for a tow truck fail as spectacularly as Scully’s attempts to find out what’s wrong under the hood. The soft snowfall that set in shortly after they got into their car was no concern to either of them before. Now it is. The heavy, wet snowflakes intensify, covering both the road and them in a layer of white.

“The motel is that way,” he says. “The sooner we get out of this weather, the better.”

So they start walking.

When they finally make it to the motel, they look like drowned poodles. At least that’s what the kid at the reception desk says. He’s chewing gum, looking like he should be in school instead of working at a motel at this time of day. Maybe they should investigate how all the adults here look like high school children. Mulder considers asking the boy-man how old he is, but Scully takes over.

“Hello,” she says, her voice clipped. “We have two rooms booked.” She slides over her badge and the boy looks at it, chewing loudly.

“You’re not in the system,” he says. “Sorry,” he adds looking at Mulder.

“This is a joke, right? Agents Mulder and Scully,” she says, tapping her finger on the counter. “Two rooms.”

“I’m sorry, ma’am. All our rooms are booked. Except one. I can give you that one. The heater isn’t working right. You can get that one for free.” The guy’s grin fades from his face when Mulder glares at him.

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140 notes - Posted July 6, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#tumblr2022 #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review #does this mean i answered 1455 asks?!#can that be right?!#My omg tag landed before david and gillian

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