#i don’t think skinner signed up for that | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

sunshine-theseus · 4 months ago

Text

Translation | Mayra Ramírez x Reader

Words: 3.6

Summary: your career takes a hit but Mayra is there to lift you back up

Warnings: pitch violence, Maya le Tissier and ManU is not nice, bad Spanish – as usual, long convos will be in English but implied they’re actually speaking Spanish, sorry I feel like this one is all over the place for some reason

It was hard to hear what was being said over the chants and screams from the stands. It was harder to try and reply for both parties.

I hadn’t seen what happened. The ball was making its way down the pitch one moment and the next moment the whistle was blown and everyone rushed to the sidelines, opposing the medics rushing out. Mayra Ramírez, Chelsea’s mind-blowing new signing, was laying on the ground, clearly in pain.

I watched as the medics tried to say something to the girl, but she was clearly only growing frustrated as neither understood the other. That’s when I decided to make my way over to the group, hoping to help with whatever issue had occurred.

“¿Necesitas ayuda para traducir?” (do you need help translating?) I ask the Colombian as I kneel next to her.

I get a stiff nod in return, her eyes still clenched tightly as she tries to breathe through the pain.

“What do you need to tell her?” I turn my head to the medics across from me.

“We need to check for any signs of a concussion. We need her eyes open.”

“Ellas necesitan que abras tus ojos chica” with a few blinks, her eyes finally open.

“Mi hombro que duele mucho” (my shoulder hurts a lot) Mayra whispers in my ear, tapping her left shoulder, and I relay the message to the medic without the bag.

I offer a hand for comfort and she takes it while they manipulate her shoulder, seeing if there is any real damage or if it’s just superficial. As we wait I find myself asking what happened. She recounts the body check from my teammate, Maya, and I make a mental reminder to have a word with her after the game.

“She’s okay but that girl could have done some bad damage with the hit she made. If she feels good, she’s safe to continue. I’d ask you to keep an eye on your teammate, she’s had it out for Mayra the whole game.” I tell Mayra she’s been given the okay to continue if she feels she can, and I help her up. She thanks me and gives me a hug before making her way to the sideline, waiting to be called back on by the ref.

“What was that all about?” the named devil approaches me as we take our positions to continue the game.

“Doesn’t matter. Just don’t be a dick for the rest of the game yeah? If you can help it for once.” I continue on my way to stand in position to kick the game back off, leaving her with a dropped jaw.

We’re in the 72’ minute and I think my small lecture actually gets through to the defender. She hadn’t made a move on Mayra or any other Chelsea player since. But right as the ball makes its way toward the opposing pair, both fighting for possession, I watch as Maya elbows Mayra in the face. Hard. No whistle is blown, but I still find my feet marching toward her, an anger growing in the pit of my stomach. I’m sick of this shit.

“What the fuck did I tell you!?” I can feel as all eyes begin to focus on me and the commotion I’m causing.

She looks scared and I almost turn right around and continue with the game, but then I glance behind her and see Mayra hunched over, grabbing her nose.

“I said ‘don’t be a dick’ didn’t I!? So why aren’t you listening to your captain Le Tissier?” by now I’ve reached her, so I shove her to further my point.

“I’m playing the fucking game. Captain.”

“No! You’re targeting Ramírez and risking other players’ health. We’ve talked about this behaviour before, and I thought we had it sorted. I’m talking to Skinner and you’re going to find yourself on the bench for a long fucking time. Until you prove you’ve learnt your lesson. Is that fucking clear?” I continue to stalk toward her as she backs away, seething through my teeth as I whisper in her ear.

She barely nods in return, but with one more light shove to her shoulders, I turn around to check on Mayra. I don’t even get a step away before hands are pressed against my spine and I’m pushed forward. I manage to catch myself before I fall and turn back toward my teammate as I readjust myself. Her fist is already swinging at me and connects with my mouth instantly, followed by a boot to the stomach. In the back of my mind, I hear the whistles of multiple officials and screams of both Chelsea and United players and fans, but none of that processes as I punch her cheek.

Maya is pressed up against the goal post at this point, Mary watching from the box, seemingly not knowing how to break up the fight. The boot to my stomach had admittedly winded me and my lungs were struggling to fill up as I grip the collar of her jersey and push her up against the metal. My hope is that retraining her long enough will manage to calm her down enough to talk, but she manages enough leverage to headbutt me in the nose.

The blood from my definitely broken nose mixes with the blood from my split lip in my mouth and I accidentally choke on it. I let Maya’s jersey go as I bend over, retching up more blood and trying to gasp through it. I can feel players from both teams separating us and trying to help while we wait for medics to make their way over, but I collapse onto my knees before they can get me very far.

The next thing I know, my vision goes black

~~~~~

I know I wasn’t out for long because the final minutes of the game are still being streamed to the TV in the corner of the medical room. Unfortunately, my face and stomach still ache, and I’m very aware of the dried blood that has seemed to cover my chin, neck and most of the front of my jersey. I can feel the stitches that have been used to close my lip as my tongue passes over them.

I take a moment to study the rest of the room. No Maya, wouldn’t be surprised if she managed to snake her way into finishing the game. I clearly didn’t punch her hard enough. I’d do anything to escape the club at this point. A shitty coach and shitty teammates and especially shitty oversight. Send me back to Madrid at this point.

It’s always easy to know the game has ended because the hall echoes with boot studs as groups of players make their way to their locker rooms. I watch red shirts pass by first, loud chatter between them. Not a single one pops their head in to see how I’m doing. So much for being a good captain.

A sea of blue follows, and I find my mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water as many of the players stop momentarily to thank me for standing up for their striker. How did one of my team’s biggest rivals care about me more than my own team?

Mayra lingers at the door as she finishes a conversation in broken English with Emma Hayes, then silently makes her way in. She takes a seat in the shitty plastic chair beside me and takes one look at my face and cringes.

“¿Es tan malo?” (is it that bad?)

“Sí.” She lets out a small laugh with her answer

“Gracias por lo que hiciste ahí fuera” (thanks for what you did out there)

“No te mereces esa mierda. y estoy harto de sus payasadas” (You don't deserve that shit. and I'm sick of her antics).

She doesn’t say anything in return, simply resting her hand on mine. That same warm feeling I felt when she held my hand as I translated for her on the pitch returns, swelling in the pit of my stomach.

I find comfort in the simple touch for as long as we sit there, before deciding it’s probably getting quite late and both of us obviously need some cleaning up. I don’t see her again before the blues get back on their bus to London and I drive back to a cold and empty apartment.

~~~~~

So I was suspended from the next match. And am still too injured for the one following that. In addition I’ve been too injured to complete any extensive training. Who knew a studs-up kick to the stomach and 2 hard punches to the face causing a relatively large amount of bleeding would be this bad?

Of course Maya served a one match ban, but she suffered no other consequences. People on twitter were outraged. At who? Well that depends on which side you look at. A lot of Chelsea fans had put aside any dislike they had for me and had been thanking me for finally standing up against the aggressive behaviour shown toward Mayra since her move. Some going as far to say they wished I realised I could do much better than United.

I wasn’t one to stroke my ego, but I definitely agreed with that.

United fans had not taken so kindly to the events. I’d been called a lot of things in my career. Slurs, misogynistic names, shit nicknames, they were all quite common. It doesn’t mean it hurts any less coming from the fans who are supposed to support you.

I’d spent the good part of my forced time off crying in bed and trying to ease some of the pain. No one had heard from me in 10 days, including family and friends asking if I was doing okay. I’d gotten DMs from players on other teams checking in and giving me their support as well. I think some of them started getting worried when they checked with my teammates, none of which had checked on me, and other players and no one had so much as heard a peep.

Then, on day 11, there was an eruption. The silent world was engulfed by blames and no one saw it coming.

Manchester United Women have just announced the abrupt and immediate departure of Captain Y/N L/N after 3½ years at the club

Boy did that have the messages rolling in, concern taking over like a plague. Concern about what went down behind scenes that would cause their captain to leave with immediate effect this close to the end of the season. Concern for what this meant for the rest of the team. Concern for where I was heading next. Concern for my well-being. Lots and lots of concern for why I had suddenly vanished from the face of the earth.

I definitely wasn’t expecting a loud knock on my door at 4 in the afternoon. Barely navigating through the packed boxes, I manage a peak through the peephole before the person knocks again.

Mayra Ramírez is stood on the other side of my door, rocking back and forth on her feet, patiently waiting for someone to answer.

I swing it open without much thought about the fact I’m in relatively shit clothes and I’ve probably gone a few too many days without washing my hair. I also momentarily forget the giant bruises that still are yet to heal all over my body as I pull her into a tight hug. I’m not sure why I do it. The first and last time we talked was that dreaded match, but having someone physically in front of me makes something deep inside of me snap.

I begin crying right there on the edge of my driveway as the Colombian just rocks us side to side in a soothing motion.

She eventually pulls away to help move us toward the living room, allowing me to rest against her as I try to catch my breath.

“¿Estas bien? ¿qué pasó?” (are you okay? what happened?).

“Allí no le agradaba a nadie, especialmente después del partido. Los superiores dijeron que tenía que irme inmediatamente. No tengo a donde ir.” (Nobody liked me there, especially after the game. The superiors said I had to leave immediately. I have nowhere to go). I’d cried so much in the past week that there were barely any tears left. I was also rather dehydrated. I had not done anything but pack my stuff into boxes and cry.

She didn’t prod any further as I leant against her again, my eyes beginning to droop.

“Todo va a estar bien” (everything will be okay) she whispers in my ear.

I don’t know how long I’m asleep for, but it can’t be more than an hour or two because the sun is still high in the sky and Mayra hasn’t felt the need to move from beneath me. My head resting in her lap with her hands twisting the ends of my hair as she scrolls on her phone are the only signs of passing time. When she doesn’t immediately notice my eyes staring up at her, I take a moment to admire her.

The light curls in her hair falling over her shoulder. The soft smile that seemingly always graced her lips. The way her eyes are like pools of burnt umber, so warm and kind, dragging you in. the freckles that were spaced across her face like stars in the dark night sky. A natural beauty that I couldn’t seem to get enough of.

“Why are you here?” the question is broken up by the dryness in my throat.

“No one has seen or heard from you in a week and then it is suddenly announced you are leaving Manchester immediately. I was worried.”

“But why? We’ve only spoken once.” The thought of how she find my place doesn’t even cross my mind.

“You risked a lot for me that game, clearly including your place in your team. I want to repay you. And I care about you.” Perhaps it was the drowsiness that was still blanketed over my brain, but there was something in her eyes that made it feel like her words held more meaning behind them than she’d presented me with.

I finally stand up, making my way to the kitchen. I offer Mayra a tea, but she expresses her disgust with the drink before I can finish my breath.

“Why are you packing?”

“I’m moving.”

“Where?” I pause at the question. There were a lot of things I had answers for, but this was not one of those things. I had no idea where I was heading. Maybe back home to Madrid? Somewhere else in England? I’m sure if I bothered checking my email I’ll have had multiple offers since the announcement this morning.

I can feel as her frame approaches and towers over me. Her presence is calming and I take a breath.

“I don’t know.” My eyes begin to burn again, new tears welling up against my waterline when she turns me to face her and wraps her arms around me. It’s almost identical to earlier but now I’m just tired of it all.

~~~~~

It’s not until 5 weeks later that I find myself dragging my boxes into a new place. Well new for me, relatively old now for Mayra. The classic English brick was inescapable but the girl had somehow managed to capture and essence of Colombia, and subsequentially Spain. I didn’t really care for remembering my home but there was a comfort within the space that I hadn’t felt in a long time.

“La lavandería está al final del pasillo si quieres lavar tu kit.” (The laundry room is down the hall if you want to wash your kit). Mayra points to the door after we finish unpacking most of the boxes.

In the mess of packing up almost 4 years of my life in Manchester and moving it down to London, I’d almost forgotten about the new kits folded neatly in their own box, tucked tightly into the corner of the room. Honestly the thought of even opening the lid made me uneasy, even though I would not be wearing them any time soon. It wasn’t particularly bad type of nausea, just a “I don’t know if I’m ready for this change” type. Of course Mayra could sense that.

We’d grown really close over the past month, spending a lot of time on calls. They often involved me helping her practice English and her helping me sort out the move. And a lot of dropping subtle hints.

I wasn’t stupid. I knew very quickly that I liked her a lot and I noticed her blushing and side glances rather easily. I wasn’t sure if she was clueless to her own feelings and my own or if she didn’t want to approach the subject. That’s why, on my first visit down to London to discuss contracts and to watch Chelsea’s last home game, I told her how I felt.

It wasn’t anything big, a homecooked meal and some wine that wasn’t particularly good. We were sat on the balcony, the sun barely resting on the horizon, a moment imprinted in my brain.

“Realmente me gustas” (I really like you). I had a whole speech planned, admitting what I’d been feeling over the weeks, but no other words came out. All she did was lean across the table and press her lips against mine and that was that.

That’s how we landed here. The new kit is spiralling in the washing machine as we sing loudly to the music playing over the speaker, dancing around the kitchen, drowning out the noises. The house is filled with the smell of paella de pollo and puchero santafereño and other Spanish and Colombian dishes, cooking or cooling off, as we work on arepas.

Mayra tries to show me how to flatten the dough out on the pan, then flip it with my hand. I approach the stove with a small ball of dough, ready to replicate her actions, when she wraps her arms around my waist. She places her larger hands over my own and manipulates them to follow the instructions she whispers in my ear.

“And now you flip it.” With that, I try to hook my fingers beneath it to turn it over.

With just my luck, my hand sits at the wrong angel, and my wrist and knuckles rest against the burning hot pan. My hand recoils and Mayra is dragging me to the sink to run it under cold water before I can even process the pain.

“Fucking shit! How do you do that?” the burn definitely isn’t that bad, but I continue to hold it under the tap while Mayra goes back to the pan and flips it with ease, answering me with a shrug and a cheeky side smile.

“Well you only have to make… like 45 more before the girls get here.”

“Noo mi amor just try one more time. I believe in you” She pouts her bottom lip and looks at me with those beautiful brown eyes and reaches for my hand. She presses kisses to each of my knuckles and my wrist.

“Fine, but if I burn my fingers one more time I’m sitting in the corner and letting you do all the work.” I let out a huff as I take a new ball of dough and roll it between my hands.

Mayra wraps her arms around my waist again but leaves them there, watching as I meticulously push the dough around on the pan. When she tells me it’s time to flip it, I pinch at the top edge and quickly turn it over. No contact with the pan is made.

Proud of my success I quickly spin around and kiss her. Cheshire-like grins spread across both our faces as our foreheads rest against each other, enjoying the moment.

Mayra was a lot more domestic and much more of a homebody than I’d originally thought. She enjoyed staying in and making homecooked meals together most nights, cuddling on the couch and watching a show or movie as the moon rises higher in the sky. But I loved that about her. It was never boring to just exist in the same space as her, she was too perfect.

The Chelsea girls begin to arrive about half an hour later. Niamh, Cat and Maika are the first, and instantly start helping me set up the table, chatting about their luck in the last game of the season. A 6-0 victory against Manchester United that won them the league.

Emma arrives not much later with Hannah, Aggie, Sam and Kristie in tow. I send Mayra out to greet and talk with her teammates and start to add finishing touches on some of the dishes.

Everyone has arrived and all the food is laid out across the tables pushed together in the garden. I sit down next to Mayra as she talks with Erin, who is trying to improve her Spanish, and link our hands together on top of the table. I play with the gold ring on her finger as I look at everyone around me. Smiles and laughs, a friendship so close it’s basically a family, feeling safe with each other.

No club I’ve ever played at was this close, but they were all so excited and quick to pull me in and love me like I’ve been here for years.

I look at Mayra again. The golden light of the sun turns her eyes into pools of whiskey and her skin glows. Those freckles I love have become more prominent in recent summer days. Her laugh makes my heart burst.

“Te amo cariño mio” (I love you my darling) I whisper in her ear as I rest my head on her shoulder, a smile glued to my face.

Her lips lightly press to my forehead.

“Te amo mucho”

#woso x reader #womens soccer #woso fanfics #wsl #chelsea women #cfcw #mayra ramirez x reader #mayra ramirez #manchester united women #man utd women

75 notes · View notes

mulders-too-large-shirt · 4 months ago

Text

s3 episode 14 thoughts

okay, i didn’t watch an episode yesterday. so the thought of being reunited encourages me. although i’m still a bit bitter about the last episode, i guess considering it some sort of cosmic “opposite day” makes it more palatable. still. new episode!!

well. new to ME, at least!

and it mentioned gargoyles in the description?? the stone fellows? i actually think gargoyles are cool as hell. some of them look wretched on purpose- which i am less fond of- but others are very cute.

but i’m unaware of them possessing any sort of life or supernatural capability beyond being funky little guys. and to me, they don’t look like creatures who have a craving for blood. perhaps mulder knows something i do not…

we open on a naked man. he’s quite beautiful. posing for some art students. good way to make some decent money, if you’re comfortable doing such a thing.

a guy in the corner is drawing furiously and trembling. but he’s drawing a spoooooky creature and not the handsome man we see on the screen!

AUGH he sliced his finger and IS DRAWING with the BLOOD?? no ma’am. no ma’am.

the trembling blood artist is rushing out and running into people. and we see a gargoyle on top of the building he is leaving!!! an ominous sign? or a nice little guy?

handsome model man is getting in a car in a back alley. we hear a thunk. oh no. i see where this is going…. someone in a mask jumps on him

the artist wakes up. his name is john. and the FBI bursts in, mulder included! john bites someone who is arresting him!! yowch!

his room is full of very spooky drawings, covering the walls and everything. all gargoyle looking creatures. hey, maybe he’s goth??? you thought about that?? maybe he streams the cocteau twins and doodles some creatures... can’t a guy have hobbies?

not defending the killing of people. just the freaky drawings.

some guy takes a picture off of the wall, then he finds john's artist knife thingy and it’s covered in blood. the question is: is it his own? because we did see him slice that finger.

mulder's office time. so this john is an immigrant from uzbekistan, but he spent almost a decade in an insane asylum.

SCULLY IN RED!!! SHE IS SO BEAUTIFUL. WOW!

she says this guy killed at least 7 people. and apparently he claimed to be possessed, which is a thing that lots of killers do to distance themselves from their crimes. seems plausible to me.

skinner name drop!!!!!!!! he was the one that put them on this case. good to know he’s still around, tasking them with things.

(it seems i have grown fond of skinner, despite our tumultuous time together. i am sure my feelings towards him will continue to fluctuate)

so john has been in custody for 5 days, BUT yesterday, another killing took place with the same signature face gashes. who did it!!

off to da prison. scully asks john why he isn’t using his bed. and it is because john is drawing on the floor. also the light hurts his eyes, but i think that would make sense if you were stuck in a dark room for many days.

he says that this creature he’s drawing was the one who killed those men and everyone knows his name. perhaps the devil, mulder suggests? no no, says john. it. scully’s like “well it’s fingerprints weren’t on the murder weapon; yours were” gag him a little…

but john calls them both fools. rude!

scully asks if that is what happened yesterday- that it attacked again, and killed another victim in the same fashion- and john starts really freaking out because that means “it found somebody new”. so if it keeps jumping from guy to guy, i’m not sure we can ever really stop this thing short of an exorcism. if it really exists, that is.

the agents get called out by bill, who was the dude taking the drawings off the walls at the crime scene and who found the knife. he’s being mean to mulder, asking him if it was aliens. hmm. not sure i’m supposed to like his guy.

but scully knows who he is, and says it’s an honor to meet him; he's famous for his FBI work. he asks if she also thinks it’s spirits, and she says no, and bill says well that’s strange company you keep. a shameless dig right in front of the man they speak of!

mulder looks sad more than angry, and says that no one would ever guess how mean-spirited bill is. and yes! maybe he can write a good book but damn, he’s being a jerk!

bill is offended by the possession theory because he worked on that case for three years and blah blah blah. doesn’t explain the second murder. bill claims that both murderers were acting alone. um okay?? that doesn’t make sense because then how would they have the same markings…

mulder is pissed at this guy and i don’t blame him. bill says john draws the gargoyles to keep the evil spirit away, mulder points out that is what they have been used for in the past, which pisses bill off further. scully is watching all of this like wtf. and he’s with some other dude who is staring at scully in a manner i don’t care for. we later learn that this second man is named greg.

mulder says bill has always hated him because mulder never worshiped him back when they worked together, even if everyone else did. ohhh, mulder says that to bill, catching a monster meant becoming one yourself. that’s juicy. i wonder what he means by that.

(author's note: WE LEARN WHAT HE MEANS BY THAT!)

so now they’re at the crime scene, covered in gargoyle drawings. shoutout to props design.

a cat jumps out and yells at scully!!! she is scared and i would be too! mulder says “it’s just a cat” like that makes it’s sudden appearance less terrifying, and she sighs and says she thought it was a picture coming to life. there’s a bit of a laugh in there, like she realizes how ridiculous that sounds.

mulder gets on his knees, peeks under the bed, and tries to call to the kitty LMAOOO AWWWWW but it sneaks away through a hole in the wall. they realize it’s hollow and it’s actually a door!

scully still seems scared to go in there, asks to wait until there’s more light, and he pulls out a tiny flashlight lmaoooo

meow kitty. and inside the door are horrific gargoyles sculpted out of clay.

MULDER WIPES HIS FINGER ON THE CLAY AND LICKS IT? HUH??? then be starts digging in there. AND BLEH!! bodies. inside the clay!!!

he craves the minerals of clay i guess...?

he put the flashlight in his mouth so he couldn’t talk, and she kept yelling for him to tell her what the hell was going on in there, which he was not doing. too busy ruining some art that contains people to communicate what was in his line of sight, i suppose. but no explanation on the licking.

some guy is working in a glass studio when he is being approached. use the molten glass for self defense! but alas, something growls and grabs him.

so now glass guy is in the hospital and greg is here. she tells him they found 5 bodies in the studio, all dismembered and with gashes on the face like this guy, the glass artist.

greg says that he thinks bill went to skinner and REQUESTED mulder on this case. and that bill tells him “mulder stories” after a few beers, about how he’s some kind of genius. HELLO? the vibes are weird here. why is he telling her this....?

and the victim in the hospital bed is gagging or gurgling a bit so the doctor asks them to please leave. i can imagine this would be distressing.

mulder is a library!! a big, nice library. reading about gargoyles, apparently named after a french dragon!! he’s flipping through old books and it looks like he has blood on his shoulder, which makes me concerned about his hands and therefore the condition of said books. he’s monologung about the nature of the human soul and taking notes. okay, a researcher! “is this the monster called madness?” <- how poetic!

AWWWW he falls asleep on the books. WAIT STOP :((( why is this so cute… he was working too hard again smh!

bill scares him!!! and wakes him up!! RUDE! i thought it was going to be scully and it would be sweet but it’s this loser. he’s asking what mulder is looking for, and he admits he isn’t sure yet.

and bill is back on his yelling at people bullshit, saying mulder is wasting his time, that john is only doing all this gargoyle art because he is insane. and he is MEAN!! he tells mulder that he’s disappointed in him and he comes back with a “well, i wouldn’t want to disappoint you by not disappointing you”<- ooohhhh get his ass.

why is he here at this library anyway? it seems unprofessional and stalker-adjacent. bill leaves with some more parting bullying and mulder seems really upset honestly. he looks out the window and sees A GARGOYLE! they're haunting him!

scully at the door to his place. she lets herself in. she’s so pretty. but where is he?

oh. he has covered his place with gargoyle art. so that is not a promising sign… did he steal it??? or is this his own work?

we then see him back at the crime scene, staring at the same drawing that is in his house. so does he possess a copy machine, or a photographic memory and a secret talent for drawing? or did someone break into his place and target HIM?

why is he back at the scene of the crime? pacing about. what is going through your mind, strange man. why is he touching the art. while there are voices whispering. HUH?? MULDER POSSESSION ARC???

now HE’S sculpting stuff?? okayyyy artist!! at 3 in the morning. at a crime scene. he’s SLEEPING in john’s bed??

but he wakes up!! to a creepy gargoyle looking creature standing over him!! he grabs his gun and starts running. climbing ladders n stuff. but then he loses him.

NO! the creepy guy jumps out and slashes at mulder. and then knocks him into a big pile of something soft. very lucky.

scully is with mulder now, he’s getting bandaged up, and she’s telling him how scared she was. “you turned your phone off? why do you even bother carrying it?” <- lmaooo

he claims he was “working” in john's studio at 3 am, and scully is NOT happy because she hasn’t heard from him in 2 days, which is a concerning amount of time to be apart for them!

he’s insisting that whatever it is, it’s real. and she says she knows about his “new wallpaper”, and that bill is “testing” him. with some sort of psychological torment? yeah, seems in character.

he leaves without telling her where he’s going and she is NOT happy. she marches up to bill. and starts asking what the hell he’s doing to mulder. bill says he wants to finish the case and to “let mulder do what he needs to do” because she won’t be able to stop him.

HELLO? the man is going off the deep end. his best friend (who is a doctor) is going to be trying to help him. that’s an unstoppable force (mulder's desire to finish his quest) meeting an immovable object (scully's need to keep him safe and healthy).

fuck you, bill you’re really making me upset. because you’re making scully upset. and fuck your little henchman greg watching all this.

but she notices a razor stuck in a car nearby. wait, do you think this henchman greg is the killer?

she finds the handle underneath the same car….

mulder is back at the jail, talking to john. asking why “it let him live”. he’s asking john to help him get deeper, to help him find it.

OH! he punched john when his answers weren't helpful. his mouth is full of blood. john says that only it can find him, and maybe it already has.

MULDER POSSESSION ARC!!??? or is it an exploration into the evils people can be driven to out of desperation and a quest for answers?

scully took the razor and handle she found to the lab for analysis and she’s putting on some sunglasses to look at stuff. okaaaayy.

AND THEY ARE MULDER’S PRINTS ON THE KNIFE!!! she is shocked. she has to excuse herself.

she’s going to the archives and someone gives her a box. she just gets on the floor and starts looking through it. no time to bring it to a table, we need answers NOW. it’s the evidence box from the crime scene, and that knife from evidence is missing.

and skinner wants to see her right away!!! what is going on?? she looks soooo scared.

but she looks good.

anyway, skinner asks if the knife she found could be the same as the one from the crime scene, and also, how is mulder doing? well, i would say, not good. she says she’s not worried about him, but he can tell she’s lying, because he says “off the record, so am i” no :( what did they do to him?!

mulder is back at the crime scene again? looking at the clay gargoyles.

WHAT IS GOING ON... THERE ARE ONLY TEN MINUTES LEFT. HOW IS THIS GONNA GET WRAPPED UP?

that CREATURE ATTACKS HIM AGAIN!!! and he sees bill and the other guy greg there???

but it’s just a dream. okay, well i was fooled. guess i’m gullible. he’s actually sleeping at his apartment on that damn couch again. once again asking for mutual aid funds to buy him a mattress.

anyway, he wakes up covered in sweat and surrounded by gargoyle drawings all over his walls. clearly a very healthy man /s

now he’s getting up and leaving his apartment. creepy music is playing as he goes back to the crime scene. to do more searching. now he’s looking at the gargoyles IN REAL LIFE. and the music is getting more intense.

the cat is licking some blood on the floor!!!! he follows it to a hand??? but whose…..

greg calls scully, and leaves a message saying to call her back. but we hear his phone ringing at the crime scene when scully calls it! so where is he? well, i have a guess. mulder picks up greg's phone.

she asks about the prints on the knife, and he says he wanted “to see what it felt like in my hand” which is deeply suspicious!!! you’re scaring me!!!

she says mulder needs to stay EXACTLY where he is, and that she will be there in a few minutes so they can “work this thing out together, okay?” and MAN she is a good friend!! she will wake up in the middle of the night to find you losing sanity at a crime scene after you stole a murder weapon, and she’s gonna do what it takes to help you out. he says “yeah” and hangs up. he seems unappreciative.

he’s looking at a sculpture with great intensity. it looks very wet. and then he DIGS INTO IT AGAIN and finds ANOTHER FELLOW IN THERE. is it GREG??? it IS!

mulder hears a noise behind him and its bill. he’s adding two and two together- or possibly being delusional- and saying that greg knew it was bill who did the killing, so bill killed him. and bill’s hands ARE covered in clay. bill seems really confused. mulder has him at gunpoint.

mulder says that bill imagined everything john (the killer) did as he got deeper and deeper into his profiling over the three years it took to solve the case. and when he caught john, it wasn’t enough. by then bill had become the monster like he always said to! and he brought mulder in on the case for subconscious help!

scully rolls up and pulls her gun out. because let’s be honest, it’s not looking great for mulder. he asks her to put the light away- also suspicious- but tells him to explain. and then bill shoves her down. mulder helps her up and says “it’s him”.

next thing you know, they’re searching on the roof. i’m scared someone will fall over the edge.

everything is very tense. and then the gargoyle grabs mulder again. we hear a gun go off! scully screams "mulder!!" and she runs over.

he shot bill! right under the roof gargoyle!

now bill is in jail and screaming about “not doing it”.

mulder wrap up time. “if a man’s character is his fight, this fight [against evil] is not a choice but a calling” <- ooooh okay banger line. gonna have to think on exactly what it means but it sure does SOUND cool.

closeup on gargoyle drawn in blood on the wall, presumably by the jailed bill. while mulder talks about looking into the laughing face of of madness.

hmm. initial thoughts: hmm.

this episode was used to dive into mulder’s psyche. to examine his past and also his fragility. he throws so much of himself into a case, that he almost loses who he is.

but it also could have been the influence of an evil gargoyle... so: ???

i think that, in general, sanity is a frail thing. and we see how delicate it is, how people who are capable of evil can manipulate and terrorize. if you assume that mulder wasn’t in any sort of actual demon possession, it’s scarier, seeing how people can lose themselves. if you go with the interpretation that there was no real demon at all, and the urge to do evil came from bill’s year’s long quest to catch the killer, then that proves the point even further. in that interpretation, the result is very scully-esque, how the real horrors of life are the unpredictably of fellow man. and we could see how terrifying it was to her, how scared she was of him disappearing, not communicating, covering his walls with scary drawings (that we never really got answers on if he drew himself?), how the way he acted started changing, and she was losing touch with the person she knew so well because of how he was being manipulated. how she was going to do anything, from confront bill to track him down at 3 am at a crime scene to try and keep him safe.

i think mulder wanted to prove himself to bill, and so he pushed himself as hard as he did. he seemed really hurt by his lack of approval, which probably stems from mulder’s reputation for getting results, even if others consider his approach unorthodox.

but then why would mulder cover his place with those drawings?? and why did he want to feel the knife in his hand? was it because he wanted to see how the killer felt before doing something so awful? if so, why now? there have been tons of cases before in which he could have held a murder weapon and pondered its use on taking a life. was it his glance into the history of gargoyles that got him all contemplative on the human nature and what evil is and if it can be resisted, or if it is something that is inside of you and unavailable? was he tempting himself to prove if he could resist it?

i’m a bit puzzled. i guess you can take a bunch of approaches here on who really did the killing- bill and john, or a force of evil- and why. and whichever read you take will characterize the themes of the episode very differently. please share what you thought; i’m curious on if there was a popularly accepted interpretation or one that the creators intended us to get, or if the ambiguity was intentional. i feel like i'll be gnawing at this one in my mind for a bit, trying to reach whatever it was saying.

it was very tense, but overall a pretty good episode. things i liked the best: mulder pssting a cat, worried scully, angry scully yelling at bill for messing with mulder’s head, an apartment entrance (she still has the key to his place <3), mulder falling asleep in a library after going on a quest for gargoyle facts (art history nerd? library nerd? you decide), scully in a red suit, scully telling mulder very firmly to stay still so she can come get him and they can figure whatever situation he is in out together, brief scully sunglasses moment.

wouldn't it be funny if they both got pets from a case? if that cat wasn't feral, he could have adopted it. taken it around for walks on a cat harness. a lovely thought!

#i have a feeling i'll be trying to unravel this one for a bit #and also that the interpretations will be very different from person to person #so i'm curious here on what the people think #it was a pretty good episode! but a bit dark for me. in terms of tone and also screen brightness. like damn where was the lighting #but sleeping library mulder has unlocked a special chamber in my heart #so what is evil? that's a great question. let me know if you figure out what this episode's answer to that is meant to be.#juni's x files liveblog #the x files #txf

24 notes · View notes

scullysexual · 10 months ago

Text

You're Never Just Anything To Me (6)

@today-in-fic | ao3 | Prev. Chapter

A look into Mulder and Scully’s relationship starting from Millennium going all the way up to Requiem.

VI. Signs and Wonders.

He wakes naturally. Devoid of the usual sluggishness comes with a 6:30 start. The sun appeared brighter, what beams peak through the slight break in the curtain, unusual for this time in April.

Scully is dead weight next to him, Mulder knows even the alarm clock struggles to wake her up. She is bare and warm next to him in his bed, on a school night. He still smiles thinking of how he convinced her to stay over on a Wednesday and he didn’t need broken heaters or traumatic events this time.

He thinks about that alarm and frowns, he doesn’t remember waking up to its annoying sound.

And he quickly realises why.

08:47 glares back at him in big red letters. He stares in horror as the last digit flips to an 8.

“Oh shit!”

The relaxing morning he thought he was going to have has now been bulldozed over by panic and chaos. He pulls on his boxers and the pants from yesterday that had been discarded on the floor the night before. Still bare chested, he leans over, furiously trying to shake Scully awake.

An impossible even when they weren’t running late.

Scully shrugs his hand away from her, rolling away from him. He sighs.

“No Scully, we have a meeting today, you’ve gotta get up,” he says trying to rouse her.

“5 minutes…” she answers but the end trails off as she falls back under.

“No, no minutes.” It was 08:53 now. “You’ve got 7 minutes to get up and get to work.”

That works. She flips over, eyes wide.

“We’re late?” she asks horrified.

Mission accomplished, Mulder climbs off her and starts trying to locate his shirt.

“Yes!”

She rips back the covers and immediately darts into the bathroom, taking her neatly folded clothes with her (because he watched her fold her clothes last night and laughed at her while she did. “It’s a pointless task, Scully,” he’d told her) He couldn’t even appreciate her naked body because he was still trying to find his shirt. So much for pointless tasks…

He's found it when she emerges and it’s 08:57.

“This is your fault,” Scully says. She brushes her hair as they make their way to the elevator.

“What did I do?” Mulder asks. He spams the elevator button. “The clock was on your side, you were in charge of setting it.”

“I’m not even supposed to be here.”

When they get to the parking lot they realise their next problem.

“I don’t have time to get my car,” she says with fear.

Not that it mattered anyway. Her car was still in the FBI garage because she went home with him.

“Get in,” Mulder says, he still holds the door open for her. “Maybe we’ll get there on time.”

But it was already 09:02.

…

The budget staff were growing increasingly restless.

Skinner glares at the two vacant chairs. Perhaps if he burns a hole into them his two truant agents might just appear.

Of course that doesn’t work.

He looks to the clock that reads 09:09 and then back to the staff.

“I’ll see if I can locate them,” he says.

He has Kimberly call both their home phones and cell phones. All four of which go through to voicemail. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t worried. Mulder was often late, that part didn’t concern him. It was Scully. In the six years he’d known her, she had never been late to anything, often arriving before anyone else had even got there. If she wasn’t here it usually meant she wasn’t here.

He sticks his head out into the long corridor looking both ways, still seeing nothing. The elevator doors opening grabs his attention and he sees his two missing agents fly out of it.

“We’re here! We’re here!” Mulder yells and Scully trails behind him.

First is the relief that spreads through him. They were still alive, thank god. Next, it’s frustration.

“You were supposed to be here…” he looks at his watch. “…11 minutes ago, Agent Mulder. Both of you.” Scully uncharacteristically cowers, moving slightly to hide behind Mulder. “What happened?”

“A kid got run over.”

“We got stuck in traffic.”

They both speak simultaneously. Skinner just stares at them.

“One at a time perhaps?” he says.

“A kid got ran over,” says Mulder.

“We got stuck in traffic,” says Scully.

Skinner sighs. He doesn’t exactly believe them but what cause would they have to lie. Then he properly looks at them. He doesn’t pay attention to what people usually wear but he’s sure he saw them wearing those clothes yesterday.

“A kid got ran over and we got stuck in traffic because of it,” clarifies Mulder.

“Both of you?” asks Skinner.

Mulder nods.

“Don’t you live in opposite directions? Take different roads?”

He watches as Mulder and Scully look at each other. Yep, they were definitely holding something back.

“They’re waiting for you now, sir,” Kimberly utters behind him.

The meeting Skinner remembers. He’ll interrogate them later. For now. He opens the door and lets them in. Kimberly opens the other door for all three of them. They sit down and the meeting can finally start. Skinner tries to pay attention but his focus keeps going over to the other two. Somebody asks him a question but Skinner doesn’t hear it. Is that a hickey on Mulder’s neck?

…

“A kid got ran over?!” Scully almost yells as she pushes her way into their office. “You couldn’t have just said what I said?”

“Next time we need to plan our excuse,” says Mulder tossing his blazer to the side and sits down in his chair. “Do you think Skinner knows?”

Scully laughs. “Skinner definitely knows, Mulder.” Scully sits in the guest chairs facing him. “Question is, when he is going to ask us about it.”

“What makes you think Skinner will ask us about it?”

Just then there’s a knock on the door. Scully goes pale. Mulder stands, tepidly making his way to the door. He lingers for a moment wishing the office door came with a peep hole.

“It’s me, Mulder,” Skinner’s voice sounds through the door.

Without any other option, Mulder opens it. “Sir,” he greets. “To what do we owe the pleasure?”

Skinner steps in, closing the door behind him. He stands about awkwardly. The basement always felt crowded when there was more than two people in it or maybe Scully had just become used to her and Mulder being the only occupants.

“I’m not stupid,” Skinner says and Scully clutches the edges of her seat. “I’ve heard the rumours.” Scully eyes meet Mulders. They both know just what rumours Skinner is referring to. “I need to know, off the record, for the…safety of everyone involved…Are the rumours true?”

Mulder and Scully look at each other again, each waiting for the other to proceed and take the lead.

“You can lie, of course, but I know there was no kid ran over,” he looks at Mulder. “Or traffic to be stuck in,” he looks at Scully who immediately looks away. “And your clothes and that…mark,” he looks so incredibly uncomfortable. “give cause to say that someone wasn’t alone last night. Now if it was with other people then that is your business but if you spent it with each other then, unfortunately, it becomes my business.”

Scully thinks, wondering just what she should say. There’s no point in lying, he’s pretty much sussed them out but how to confirm it was another matter.

“Off the record?” asks Mulder, he looks briefly at Scully. Of course he was doing this for her sake. Mulder’s made it clear in the past that he doesn’t care who knows about their relationship, it was always her that had issues.

“Yes,” says Skinner.

“Yeah, the rumours are true.”

Skinner looks to Scully for confirmation. She nods, smiling awkwardly. She wonders, for a second, if he might congratulate them, if he might grab a chair and exclaim ‘Finally!’, asking for all the details but one look at him and seeing his face have the faintest tint of pink covering it tells her otherwise.

“Very well,” says Skinner beginning to make his way back towards the door. “Thank you for being honest with me.” He has the door open now and coughs. “I need your expense reports by noon,” he says and it’s business as usual. “The budget staff are requesting it.”

“Of course,” says Scully happy now that that conversation is over.

Skinner nods them farewell, still looking from one to the other awkwardly, before he leaves and Mulder closes the door behind him. Listening as his boss’s footsteps get further away he turns towards Scully, grinning.

“Now he knows does this mean we can have sex in the office now?”

Scully just glares at him.

…

“So Skinner knows now, huh?”

They stand in the FBI garage, another workday behind them, and only one more day to go before he can finally have Scully back in his bed. They stand at their respective cars, Scully having made it very clear that she didn’t want a repeat of this morning.

“He does,” Scully agrees, tossing her bag into the front passenger seat.

“How do you feel? I know you wanted to keep quiet…”

“Honestly? Relieved actually.”

“Really?” That surprises him.

“Yeah. It feels less like we’re teenagers trying to hide our relationship from our parents and more like actual adults.” He smiles. “Besides we can’t hide it forever. Oh, that reminds me.”

“Yeah?”

“I can’t do Friday.”

His stomach sinks. “What? Why not?”

Friday is their night, what else could be so important that—But Scully is smiling, brightly, like she can barely contain it.

“I have an appointment. About my ova,” she adds at Mulder’s questioning look. “To see if it’s viable.”

“Well shit, Scully…” A grin forms onto his own face then. “That’s great. You’ll tell me what they say, yeah?”

“Of course.”

They climb into their own cars then and Mulder watches as she pulls out and drives away. His stomach twists. He was happy, of course, for Scully, she’s wanted a baby for as long as he’s known her but the thought of him being the father…His own father wasn’t very good, he couldn’t even keep his little sister from being taken. What if he’s just as bad with their baby? What if he’s just bad?

…

He itches to call her. He bounces his basketball instead.

It’s Saturday morning, at this time he and Scully might have just woken up, another hour would pass before they ordered breakfast, half hour before they found themselves back in bed again. It was a routine he’d gotten use to, every Saturday (unless on assignment in which case that still wouldn’t stop them) she would be here and today she wasn’t.

The ball bounces out of his hands and Mulder sits down. He grabs the case they’re currently working on- some religious thing- and tries to focus on that instead.

About 10 minutes into reading the case there’s a knock on the door. Mulder frowns, the Gunmen maybe? He walks over to it and opens it.

And there stands Scully.

“Hi,” she says.

“Hi.”

She doesn’t seem distressed, she doesn’t seem angry or upset. She seems…content.

“Are you gonna let me in?” she asks with a knowing smile.

“Of course.” He pushes the door open wider and moves out the way. “I didn’t think you would be here today,” he says shutting the door and putting the latch back on it.

“I was bored.” She spins around to look at him. “I thought about calling but I wanted to tell you the news in person.”

Was it what he thought it was? Mulder makes his way back to the couch. He sits though Scully remains standing.

“Dr Parenti thinks there’s potential.”

A smile breaks out across his face. “Scully, that’s amazing.” And Scully can’t contain her own smile any longer.

“Yeah, it is. It really is.”

They stare at each other, smiling for a few minutes longer.

“Uh…Dr Parenti said we could start right away. That’s if…you’re still interested?”

His smile fades as does hers, a worried look crossing it.

“Scully, I—”

“It’s fine,” she interrupts. She bites her lip and he can see her trying to keep the disappointment, the tears at bay. She’s got it wrong. “I knew it was a big ask, I just thought…”

Mulder shakes his head, standing up from the couch and going over to her. He holds her in his arms. She still spirals.

“Scully,” he says more firmly to stop her rambling. “My answer is still yes.”

She stops suddenly then, looking at him. “But I thought…”

“Sit down. Please. I think we need to talk.”

She does so, sitting down beside him, far enough away so they can see each other easily. It’s so unusual for them not to be touching that Mulder reaches out and grabs her hand, pulling it towards him.

“Scully…I have my fears,” he says watching as his fingers circle her palm. “My own father wasn’t very good and I don’t know if I’ll be the same…”

“Mulder?” He looks up at her then, sees the love and understanding in her eyes. “We’ll figure it out together, okay.”

Because of course they will. They do everything together. He nods and she leans towards him, kissing him. Mulder pulls her closer and she sits in his lap facing him, their usual Saturday routine.

He lets himself get excited about the prospect of a baby. Wills his fears away, riding solely on Scully’s strength and belief that he’d be a good dad. He can picture it; a child with fire for hair and a forest landscape for eyes, a perfect combination of his reckless curiosity and her cautious inquisitiveness. He hugs her to him, his head resting on her chest as her hands stroke through his hair. He believes in this possibility.

Later when the sun is hanging low and she is quiet and sleepy in his arms he brings the subject back up.

“It was never a big ask, Scully.”

“What do you mean?” she asks.

He’s quiet for a moment and his silence makes her look up at him.

“I guess…I think there’s a end in sight, Scully.”

“You mean with the X-Files?”

“Yeah. A natural end, not one brought on by higher ups or office fires.” He sighs and Scully hangs on to every word. “I think it’s an end of my choosing- our choosing- It feels right.”

It’s Scully’s turn to be quiet as she takes it all in.

“What about Samantha?”

He thinks of the clones, of the little girls in the field, of the visions Cancer Man handed him.

“I think there’s a universe out there where she’s happy, where she is loved.” He looks at Scully with a soft smile. “I think I can believe that. I think that’s what I want to believe.”

She smiles back at him.

“It’s not gonna stop me from going looking for Big Foot or aliens or whatever.” She laughs, affectionately rolling her eyes. “But I think the main quest, the main search…I can see an end. I think I’m ready to get out of the car.”

Scully sits up, moving to straddle his hips. Her lips touch his, kissing him slowly. The car stops and Mulder climbs out, the door locking itself behind him.

#the x-files #the x files #txf fic #xfiles fanfiction #soss #season 7 #scullysexualwrites

29 notes · View notes

jodithann827 · 7 months ago

Text

He Said What?!?

Rated: General / Posted on Ao3 / @today-in-fic

Summary: What would happen if he heard something he wasn’t supposed to?

Huntsville, Alabama

December 18th, 1998

Motel 6

The slow and steady hum of the radiator vibrates across the cramped confines of the not quite dingy, but not quite pristine motel room. The sun, having set hours before and taking what little warmth the day offered with it, left the room dark, save for the two beside lights and the standard desk lamp which emits a soft glow. The sound of water gargling flows through the closed bathroom door while Assistant Director Walter Skinner sits on one bed, waiting to wash the stink of the day off. Shaking his head slowly, he thinks back to the previous morning. His commute had been a breeze, his secretary was finally back after a detestable stomach flu had held her captive the week before, the Director of the Bureau was in a relatively good mood, and all of the agents under his watch were performing as needed. Yes, it had been the perfect start to the day. Perfect until Fox Mulder barreled into his office (he really needs to put a stop to that) spouting off about alien abductions and mysterious disappearances. The day went so well until 9:48. Why he entertained Mulder’s crazy ideas is beyond his comprehension. Well, that’s not entirely true. As strange as Muder is, Skinner genuinely likes him—not that he would ever divulge that tidbit of information—and, crazy or not, Mulder has proven himself to be an exceptional agent.

As Mulder spouted and Skinner listened, removing his glasses ever so slowly and rubbing his temples at the thought of the impending headache, he thought back to the previous weeks. Weeks in which Mulder killed a man and faked his death, only to reemerge and blow one giant metaphorical hole right in the center of a government conspiracy. That’s not to mention the almost-death and then amazing recovery of Agent Scully, which Skinner still isn’t sure he understands. He’s just thankful that Agent Scully is at home recovering, and will be ready to get back to work in a matter of weeks. Unfortunately, he knew he wouldn’t have the same luck taming the beast that is Fox Mulder as Scully would.

When Mulder finally got to the point and asked Skinner to sign off on the 302, Skinner could hear Scully in the back of his head. Don’t let him go, Sir. He shouldn’t go alone, Skinner. You know what’s going to happen if I’m not there. He found himself nodding at her words, though Mulder mistook his nodding as permission granted. He profusely thanked him and, with the look of a kid on Christmas morning, mentioned something about booking the first flight out and going home to pack before Skinner realized what had transpired. So, out of respect for Agent Scully and a concern for Agent Mulder, that’s what brought him to Huntsville; a crazy X-file with an even crazier agent. Of course, Mulder’d booked the trip so quickly that the only vacant motel in the area had one room, which is how Skinner finds himself with a roommate.

The bathroom door opens, tugging Skinner from his thoughts. Mulder walks out, thankfully dressed in plaid pajama pants and an old shirt, as puffs of steam follow him.

“Bathroom’s free,” he announces, striding over to the black duffle bag placed haphazardly on the side table chair. He rummages around for a minute, then steps back and falls onto his motel bed.

“You know I could have handled this one on my own, Sir,” Mulder insists, as he had the whole plane ride to Alabama, the car ride to the local station, and again on the way to the motel. Skinner glances in his direction and makes a weak attempt to raise his eyebrow like Scully does, which Mulder of course doesn’t notice..

“Two days, Mulder. I’ll give you two days,” Skinner responds, once again shaking his head, as he gets up and departs for the bathroom.

***

Later, as they lay in their beds, not quite ready for sleep, Skinner looks up at the pale white ceiling of the motel room and sighs. “I know you could have handled this on your own, Mulder,” he admits. Even though it’s dark and he isn’t looking in his direction, he knows Mulder is smiling.

“You promised Scully you’d go with me,” Mulder half asks, half states. Skinner chuckles, or at least as much of a chuckle as he’s willing to emit in front of an agent. “I understand, sir,” Mulder assures him. “I know she worries when she can’t be there to have my back. I know I sometimes make rash decisions…” he pauses when Skinner huffs. “Okay, maybe a lot of the time. Thank you, sir, for being willing to come with me instead of denying the case. I appreciate it, and I know Scully does as well.”

“How’s she doing?” Skinner asks, carefully, as he doesn’t like to speak of agents who aren’t present.

He’s been concerned about her since her remission. She called him a week and a half after her discharge, indicating she was fine and ready to be back at work. Skinner had to bite his tongue from saying something he would regret, like Have you completely lost your mind, and then told her in no uncertain terms that she is not to grace the doors of the Hoover building for at least another four weeks, and only then with a doctor's note. She’s still so weak, physically. Even when she returns, he knows she won’t be ready to be in the field right away. He makes a mental note to check for any upcoming conferences he can send them to upon her return, maybe ease her back into work.

“She’s getting stronger every day. I’m pretty sure she kicked her sweet and well-meaning mother out of her house by the second week of her recovery,” Mulder laughs.

Skinner is amazed and wonders how the agents accomplish anything, being two of the most stubborn individuals he has ever had the pleasure of meeting.

“That’s good,” he tells him, then adds, “It’ll be good to have her back. Well, goodnight, Agent Mulder.”

“Goodnight, sir.”

***

Hours later, Skinner awakens to a sound. Unable to identify it at first, he lies motionless, straining his ears. He hears it again. After a few moments, he realizes it’s Mulder, whimpering in his sleep. Recognizing the agent is dreaming and they aren’t in imminent danger, he rolls to his side and tries to go back to sleep. As he’s about to doze off, Mulder’s whimpers become more frenzied.

“Please, no,” Skinner hears from the next bed. He raises his head a bit, checking to see if Mulder has woken up, but the man’s closed eyes and pained expression assures Skinner that he is very much asleep. Unsure of how much longer Mulder’s dream will go on, Skinner attempts to sleep, but is incapable.

“No… can’t. Please… understand,” whines Mulder. Skinner wonders what is going on in that brain of his. He’s using a voice Skinner has never heard. He sounds scared, young, unsure.

“Mm lost,” Mulder continues, and Skinner hears a hitch in his voice. He wonders if Mulder will start crying in his sleep. Maybe he’s dreaming about his sister.

“Without you,” Mulder states.

Nope, Skinner immediately knows who Mulder is thinking about, and he longs for sleep. Of course, he’s suspected it for years. But without evidence, he never wanted to make a big deal out of it. He knows there are tons of wagers and bets floating around the bureau regarding the status of Mulder and Scully’s relationship, but he usually doesn’t pay too much attention to those things.

“Need you,” Mulder's voice pulls Skinner from his thoughts. “Best friend… No die. No happen”.

Skinner realizes Mulder is thinking back to the cancer. He wants to wake him, tell him it’s all okay; Scully is fine and she’s not going anywhere. But he also doesn’t want to startle him or cause him any embarrassment, though there isn’t anything to be embarrassed about, at least not yet.

“Promise me,” he mumbles, followed by a string of gibberish from Mulder’s dream-induced mouth. “Scully… please…love you… me.” Skinner prays sleep takes him that very instant. He knows more than he needs to, more than he should. Apparently, something in Mulder’s dream has calmed him, which Skinner doesn’t care to know, nor does he want to speculate. He realizes Mulder’s breathing has evened out and he is slumbering once more.

Unfortunately, Skinner is now wide awake and can’t get his agents out of his mind. Now that he knows, even though he tells himself there really isn’t anything to know, he quickly decides not to do anything about it. Fox Mulder and Dana Scully, as much of a pain in the ass as they—well, he— can be, are his best agents and their dynamic is something not to be messed with. He rolls over again, imploring that he’ll forget every word by morning, but knowing the sounds are burned into his brain forever.

***

Skinner wakes the next morning, wishing and hoping it was a dream, but upon seeing Mulder exit the bathroom, dressed in his suit and ready for the day, he knows it was anything but.

“How did you sleep, sir?” asks Mulder, a look of complete innocence on his face.

“I never sleep as well on the road as I do at home,” Skinner replies, sitting up and stretching. The morning sun is attempting to peek through the drawn curtains. Well, now or never, Skinner thinks to himself. “Hey, Mulder,” he says, his voice strong, but slightly tentative, as if testing the waters. Mulder looks in his direction, eyebrows knit, waiting for him to speak. Oh to hell with it, he thinks. “Mulder, did you know you talk in your sleep?”

Mulder’s eyebrows reach so high they almost touch the top of his forehead as his eyes bulge from their sockets. I’ll take that as a no, Skinner muses. Mulder stares at his boss for a minute, and Skinner almost feels sorry for him seeing the terrified look of pure dread adorning his face.

“What did I, uh… did I say anything, uh…” he fumbles over his words, trying to find the right ones to ask.

Skinner smiles slightly and decides that as much fun as this could be, he’ll go easy on Mulder, just this once. “You said a few words and mumbled a bit. I’m surprised no one has mentioned it to you before. I just thought you should know.”

Lifting himself from the bed, he staggers toward the bathroom to get ready for whatever this ridiculous day has in store for him. He turns slightly to look at the younger man. They’re idiots, these agents of his, but they’re his idiots, and for now, Mulder's secret is safe with him. He’ll be ready whenever Mulder feels free enough to talk about it.

#fox mulder #dana scully #the x files fanfic #msr #walter skinner #talking in his sleep #he said what?

19 notes · View notes

randomfoggytiger · 8 months ago

Text

Mulder's Alien Baby Baby Trauma In-Depth (Part VI): Bonds Once Forged Are Not Easily Broken

Now, we come to first meetings and (second?) reunions-- and part of that will be focused on Mulder and Doggett's throwdown.

On the one hand, Doggett's poured literal blood and sweat into finding and retrieving this man-- first as a job, then as a friend. Allegations of a crush for Scully (which I don’t buy) aside, he’s a good man that's done good work.

On the other hand, Mulder has primed himself for battle: seething with vengeance for three months of torment and three months of death, and with nowhere to direct this hatred, Doggett has become an easy target. From Mulder’s perspective, sudden helping hands were always revealed to be turncoats; and the newest recruit just so happening to weasel in under everyone's nose at the most opportune (or inopportune) time and being completely "above reproach"? Unlikely.

In short, it’s not going to be a pleasant meeting for the X-Files' newest agent.

Introducing the Buddy Cop

We must devote a short amount of word space to Doggett, since he will morph into a pivotal player in Mulder’s post-abduction shenanigans from here on out.

After his “capture” by Absalom and “rescue” by the FBI, he sits, disturbed, in Skinner’s office while the latter man debriefs him. Both are candid and unguarded with each other-- a dynamic he, Skinner, and Scully developed in Mulder’s absence-- not hiding the fact they're mutually bothered and skeptical over Absalom's claims and needless despite (though for different reasons.)

“It may not be the best way, but it is certainly one way to catch an escaped convict-- I’ll give you that, Agent Doggett,” Skinner remarks, nose still buried in his agent’s report.

“I’d just as soon stick to the old fashioned way, Sir. That shot was a little too close for comfort.”

“You said this man claimed the US Census Bureau had data, information that he was after that connects to this man that was shot on the White House lawn.”

“'Proof', he said,” Doggett nods, adding, “that ‘they were here among us’.” Then, turning away and scowling contemplatively, he adds, “Whoever they are.”

Before Skinner can voice his next thought, the door snaps open and in walks Mulder.

A few interesting first thoughts:

Mulder’s shirt is at least a size (if not two) too large, adding to his disheveled, harried integration back into a normal life. And, yes, Skinner’s shirt is also oversized… but not that oversized. It makes me wonder if the clothing department created the illusion of Mulder’s weight loss and trauma by sizing up his wardrobe; and if so, clever touch. (Will have to keep an eye on the rest of the men’s wear this season to compare and contrast... if I remember.)

His face is very grim and very serious; his posture is rigid; and his eyes remain fixated on Doggett's, even during his cursory “Sir” to Skinner as he closes the door.

Doggett senses his animosity immediately, turning grim as well-- but doesn’t think to take a defensive stance, likely chalking up Mulder’s standoffishness to natural aloofness exacerbated by his inexplicable return.

And his instincts seem to pay off: Mulder collectedly walks up to him, softly asking, “Is this John Doggett?” with an upward head tilt thrown in. All signs point to the returnee being tense but friendly; and the newcomer stands with a hand outstretched to welcome the other man home.

And then, the push.

Mulder barrels past Doggett’s handshake, not breaking form as he immediately shoves the other man back into his chair-- a very pathetic smack, really, despite the force that could have been exerted from his forward momentum (another little tell that Mulder is not physically up to snuff, yet.)

Doggett, collapses, stunned; and Skinner rushes into to grab his former agent as he launches into rapid fire accusations.

“I hope you’re not commending him as a hero for what he did in this thing because he is not,” Mulder insists, maintaining burning eye contact with his adversary while ignoring and talking over Skinner’s commands to back off.

“I’m not about to referee a boxing match,” Skinner warns (hey, an S.R. 819 reference!)

Doggett’s scowl deepens as reality sinks in, his emotions vacillating from utter befuddlement to insulted awe while rewinding the last few seconds. He attempts to recapture the friendly mood; but it fits falsely on his face, making him look even more like a stilted, Consortium double agent.

“Just what’s the problem here?”

Mulder is not convinced-- no one in his shoes probably would be-- and he spells it out for everyone in the room.

“The problem? You occupy an office that used to be devoted to finding the truth and now you’re busy burying it, that's the problem.”

Doggett tries again, a little more animosity seeping out through his voice, shifting posture, and wagging finger: friends he will be, but not punching bag. “Whoa, you musta got your wires crossed somewhere, Agent Mulder.”

“You got that man killed,” Mulder snaps.

Incredulously raising his eyebrows, Doggett snarkily repeats, “I got him killed?”

“Because of what he knew, of what he could expose,” Mulder continues, pushing closer against the boundary of Skinner’s shoulder (who, it seems, is destined to referee Mulder’s fights with or without his say so.)

“You see this, Agent Mulder?” Doggett snipes, pointing at the deep cut across his cheek.

Undeterred, he responds, “I see you sitting there, Agent Doggett.”

After a weighty pause, Mulder ends the interrogation with, “It’s good enough for me”, another haunted pause, a last look at Skinner, and a swift trudge back out the door.

Skinner waits until he leaves before lowering his guard, pinching the bridge of his nose and trying to drum up an explanation for Doggett. Slowly turning, he begins, “You gotta understand what he’s been through, I mean, now he’s back and you’re--”

But Doggett is nodding dismissively and leaping out of his chair to the other door before Skinner can finish, unwilling to hear out a string of weak excuses for Mulder's appalling behavior.

More interesting thoughts:

Even though Mulder is biased against Doggett, the latter does seem paint-by-the-numbers guilty, an exact specimen the Syndicate used to dig up and dance around with impunity. Doggett gives very little away, doesn’t justify his position, and uses survivable wounds as "evidence" of his innocence-- all of which have been used at sundry times throughout the show.

Mulder is obviously not in a state to clearly weigh evidence in Doggett’s favor, running blindly around to stop the aliens from abducting anyone else ever again (alluded to in this post.)

Although Mulder is furious for Absalom during this conversation, he is really demanding justice for himself. Every line spoken to Doggett points right back in his direction; and he is conscious of that, trying to avoid his experience and safeguard against it permanently simultaneously.

Skinner is aware of this on some level, excusing Mulder’s bad behavior to Doggett’s face while also understanding Doggett's righteous anger at boss in turn.

But the conflict doesn’t end there.

Doggett has struggled all Season 8 to support, befriend, and be an ally to Scully. He advocated for her, saved her life, and kept her from danger over and over again; yet she didn’t open up to or confide in him unless absolutely forced. Despite that, he still helped safe guard her secret, find her partner, and support her after Mulder’s death-- and all this while battling imposter syndrome in himself.

Doggett never tried to compete with or measure up to Mulder (that was Scully’s struggle); but from day one, he felt isolated and rejected, doing his best to build good relationships with Scully and Skinner. By proving his stripes, he thought it would earn him equal consideration as a partner and a person. However, his insecurity-- that the others would sideline him the minute Mulder came back-- is proven true (and would continue to be proven true the rest of Season 8.) He suspected Mulder curated a type of jealous loyalty, and he was right: even Skinner, whom he formed the closest friendship with, takes Mulder’s side over his own.

Skinner is left alone in the office, pondering how best to tackle both agents’ issues.

Friends in This Life and After (and This Life Again)

Mulder hops over to Scully’s apartment where he is surprised by Frohike opening the door (tilting his head and immediately pulling up his cheeks in a smile.)

It’s a beautiful moment: the man in Scully’s kitchen six years ago is here now to greet and invite him in, rushing over to it before the others could. Not only that, but Frohike is also the first person to make a genuine joke at Mulder’s expense, one so cheery and hearty that it redirects Mulder's sarcasm into sincerity.

“You know, it’s really not fair. You’ve been dead for six months and you’re still better looking than me.”

An interesting note: something strange and morbid begins to happen here as well: Mulder uncharacteristically sticks his hand out for a shake, standing on formalities with a friend who’s been through thick and thin with him.

And while it’s bad enough to view this as an insecure attempt on Mulder’s part to become "reacquainted" with his former friend, another-- and worse-- parallel could plausibly be drawn: his father’s distant overtures in Colony: a way to keep loved ones at a distance so they don't see flaws and scars up close, perhaps.

Frohike ignores the handshake entirely, finishing his joke and latching onto Mulder with a fierce, all-encompassing hug.

And Mulder is euphorically happy: that someone saw him instead of his traumas, that he’s been recognized as “normal” despite his experiences, that his experiences don’t define him in at least one person’s eyes.

Frohike’s lack of reserve and whole-hearted affection frees a part of himself still under lock and key; and he laughs unreservedly, returning the unexpected hug with affectionate back pats and thrilled cooing noises after the former somberly concludes, “Though not by much.”

There is no expectation or agenda or fear or worry between the two, allowing the undead to relax into the moment and fully feel for the first time: he picks up on Frohike’s pain, soothes it by letting the hug last longer than usual, and even settles into the moment with him-- “Melvin…”-- before keeping their dignity intact with a well-timed joke.

Abashed that he might have lingered too long-- but not ashamed--, Frohike steps back, assessing his friend’s mood with a completely serious “Sorry”; then, after Mulder nods good-humoredly and walks off, reaches over to close the door.

An interesting speculation: why would Mulder cut the moment short?

Obviously there’s discomfort he’s still navigating post resurrection, but he was never the huggy, touchy guy with his friends to begin with. Frohike’s hug, while welcome, is more unnatural than normal.

And, personally, I like to think the eagle-eyed staring from the rest of the group is the real reason. (The cut-to is hilarious if you aren’t expecting it, by the way.)

Byers advances with a welcoming “I think it goes without saying that we’re all, uh… tremendously relieved,” too overjoyed to notice Mulder’s polite, tight smile.

Langly’s greeting is tremendously less subtle: “And not just because we had big questions about your involvement in a certain blessed event.”

This next interaction is the second huge make-or-break for this episode: like the first scene back in Mulder’s apartment, this, too, can be easily misconstrued; and is entirely dependent on context.

Caught off guard, he raises his head, freezing his face and darting his eyes over to Scully. He and Scully have not yet discussed the baby, but he knows it’s his (posts here and here.) Are Langly's implications a result of her indirect interference or a natural result of his normal impetuosity? Furthermore, what has Scully told his friends about the baby? Has she told them about the baby? Has Scully rustled up an opportunity to press for more, he wonders.

Mulder knows Scully is not above premeditation, especially about big events in her life (her father’s death, her cancer, her adopted daughter, her distrust of Diana, etc.), and this incident harkens back to another four-against-one scenario in the not-so-distant past (her confrontation at TLG's in One Son.) He and Scully just resynced yesterday, post here; but this comment out of the blue immediately activates his conspiracy radar.

One look at her face, however, dispels that notion (for now): Scully didn’t know this was coming, eyes pivoting sharply from Langly’s direction to Mulder's. Having nothing to hide, she doesn't look down or away; and even betrays a sense of humor in the tilt of her head and tuck of her chin. Her relaxed face invites Mulder to see the absurdity of this strange moment rather than be bowled over by it.

The camera pans back to Mulder right before everything registers-- showing his downfallen face and penetrating gaze--

and captures the split-second of reassurance and quick snap back to good humor. Catching Scully's comedic undertone, he reciprocates with a mock suspicious face-- the same used later in Empedocles-- complete with squinting, glinty eyes, head tilt, and imperceptibly opened mouth.

Scully-- relieved he’s gotten her point, amused at his antics, and intuiting his unreadiness to broach the baby topic-- deadpans, “So much for playing a hunch, Mulder,” while raising her eyebrows and shifting her head level-- a tease back, and a transition to more serious discussions.

“The, uh, Gunmen were able to decrypt the data you found on Howard Salt’s hard drive.”

Frohike joins them in time for Mulder’s roundtable “thank you” nod; and, all together now, the men give their full attention to Scully's synopsis of their findings.

CONCLUSION

Doggett has been shoved, his friends have embraced him, and he and Scully have reengaged their unspoken effectively-- all good things for Mulder. Firing on all cylinders in the company of those that love him helps resurrected man feel back in action, feel alive, feel like himself.

Of course, this is a small bandaid for the bigger, gaping wound of his abduction trauma… and, of course, that problem isn't helped by the confirmation of Scully's (well-meaning) premeditation during the course of the next five minutes.

Thank you for reading~

Enjoy!

#txf #Mulder's Alien Baby Baby Trauma #In-Depth #Part VI #Bonds Once Forged Are Not Easily Broken #S8 #Three Words #Mulder #Doggett #Skinner #Frohike #Scully #TLG #xf meta #meta #mine #xfiles #x-files #the x files

25 notes · View notes

carefulfears · 1 year ago

Note

Would you describe Mulder and Scully’s relationship as codependent? Do you think there was a certain point where neither realized there would never be anyone else?

hey babe! no, i actually wouldn’t. not to be really annoying and technical, but codependency is a facet of abusive/toxic relationships. it's defined as a condition that prohibits a person from having a "mutually satisfying relationship," and signs include a need to control others, lying/dishonesty, chronic anger, lack of trust in self/others, and it hinges on enabling destructive behavior.

in my opinion, i would argue that scully doesn’t enable mulder’s destructive behavior, but rather tries to support/encourage him to pursue his goals in a healthy way.

(nor does mulder encourage scully’s, even if that behavior is trying to “please” him, or being with him at all. he was always the first to say, “go be a doctor.”)

it’s that scene in the end of drive, when kersh says “you apologize for him a lot.” and scully snaps back, “i’m not apologizing for this.” and says that what mulder did saved people’s lives, she’s not apologetic.

she actually doesn’t make apologies or excuses for him, that’s the antithesis of her entire role. what scully is invested in is the quest, and there’s nothing inherently destructive or toxic about the quest. it’s a search to help people and find truth and enact justice, and at its best, it’s rewarding to believe in something so deeply.

what’s destructive at times is mulder’s self-sacrificial and obsessive nature, which scully never permits. she badly wants him to care for himself and think critically about things, and she never shies from communicating that. that’s her job. but also, that’s how she shows love.

there’s a difference between depending on someone for many things and codependency, and in my opinion, it’s the world around them that forces them to depend on each other for so much. their surroundings are constantly enforcing: this is all that you have. their surroundings are constantly taking those in their lives one-by-one.

and when they do have other people, they’re not afraid to utilize those connections and reach out to others. it’s why i love that last scene of triangle so much: mulder in the hospital bed, scully and skinner and byers and frohike and langly all griping and throwing flowers on the table. they all went to any depths of the world to make sure he was okay, they all worked together to show up for him, and they all always do.

and it’s the best part of s8/s9 too! when mulder was gone, this show could’ve isolated scully, but it surrounded her in more support than ever.

my favorite moment in requiem is the final scene, when skinner comes to tell scully that mulder is missing, and she already knows. and they just cry together. hold onto each other’s hands. and she tells him, the first person to know, that she’s pregnant. it’s so moving to me, to be so connected to someone else, when the worst happens. these are the two people who love mulder the most. these are the people who are going to stay out at night searching, who are going to defend his work, who are going to invest in his child. ultimately, it will be these two left standing alone by his grave.

then she’s given john doggett, a new partner to share her days with, a stone-cold skeptic who would do absolutely anything for her. monica reyes, another tall dark-haired believer who adores her (when one fades away…). the boys move their mission control from the TLG loft to her kitchen table. her mother plans parties and finds help and babysits.

but still, she does feel so alone, doesn’t she? because it’s just not the same. that’s the dependency, to me, and i don’t personally find it unhealthy or toxic. they’re best friends. they do everything together, they’ve always wanted to do everything together. they’re the only person who understands. that’s why, in the end, after having all of that support and all of those people, scully packs up and runs to abandon all but one.

it’s why doggett and the guys break mulder out of death row, because they love scully, and they know she wouldn’t survive.

is it a bit twisted? yes. but so are their circumstances. they don’t want anything more than for the other to be and have everything, it’s like that from the beginning straight to the end.

as far as when they knew this was it, maybe it’s because i’m coming up on never again in my rewatch, but i feel like there’s no coming back from ed jerse! she burns this cycle into her skin, fucks another man, then comes back. nothing says “you are coming down with me,” quite like that. idk i might change my answer tomorrow! but i definitely think that final shot at the desk set a lot in stone.

#asks #kisses

55 notes · View notes

plisuu · 10 months ago

Note

happy friday Sterling! For Revalas, "honestly, i’m always there. in my head. the scars on my body might’ve healed but i never really walked away from it." from the for the damaged prompts?

Ehehehe thank you for the food! Here's Revalas and Bull having a chat about the Tal-Vashoth :)

wc: 650 @dadrunkwriting

Revalas lay on the cold stone of the ramparts, watching the moonlight filter through his fingers, the backs of his hands crisscrossed with scars and the branches of Mythal in delicate brown ink.

“It’s not easy.”

His voice was soft, quiet in the darkness. He felt the sharp gaze of The Iron Bull on him. The Iron Bull. Another name. Another title. Another role.

Kothaari. Ben-Hassrath. Hissrad. Tal-Vashoth.

Revalas.

It wasn’t so different, was it? To take a different name, a different role, and to make it your own.

“But… it’s not that bad either.” He chuckled dryly, rolling to his side. “How’s the wound? Saar-qamek, yeah? That’s rough.”

Bull grunted a reply, and Revalas raised an eyebrow. ‘A courtesy,’ The Iron Bull had called it.

What he wouldn’t have given for a simple courtesy, back in Seheron. Not that it mattered now, with the tattoos of the Dalish across his face. He recalled, vaguely, how once as a child he had tried to use vitaar, to try and be like the Qunari warriors, and mindlessly let his hand drift over the pitted scars it left across his cheek.

“Could be worse,” he continued, filling the space with idle chatter. What could be worst than being Tal-Va-fucking-shoth? “Could be stuck in Par Vollen or something. Even the swill Cabot serves is better than some of the crap there.”

Bull only stared at him, expression unreadable, and Revalas swore at himself internally. He used to be good at this—good at talking, good at smoothing over conflict and settling the minds of those who suffered Asala-taar, those that needed soothing and reassurance, and to be re-assigned within the Qun. Kothaari. One who brings peace. ‘Ben-Hassrath. Glorified re-educator,’ he reminded himself. He tried not to think about it too hard.

“Listen,” he started over, pushing himself onto his elbows as he laid on his stomach. “You’re still you, no matter what you call yourself. You aren’t any different than you were yesterday, or the day before that. No offense, but you were basically living as Tal-Vashoth anyways.”

Was this helping? He wasn’t sure. The corner of Bull’s mouth twitched. That was a no, then. This was different, a lot different than filling a role. This was his life now. Their lives, now. Creators, he hadn’t thought about the Qun this hard in years, but there it all was, all of the information, all of the knowledge and the language and the culture and laws, all still filed away neatly.

“It doesn’t matter to me, at any rate. I know, big talk coming from a fellow Tal-Vashoth, but there’s still life after the Qun, you know. It’s not all murder and banditry. Promise.” He winked, and Bull sighed, shaking his head.

“I killed hundreds of Tal-Vashoth in Seheron,” he finally said. Revalas shrugged.

“And I punched Skinner in the face last night, if we’re making confessions.”

“Probably deserved it too, the bastard.”

Silence settled over them again, as Revalas watched Bull carefully, and Bull watched him just as carefully back.

“You know what I think?” Revalas continued. “I think, Qun or not, Tal-Vashoth or not, you’re still a damn good spy, and captain of the Inquisition’s mercenaries. Sure, Seheron fucked us up pretty bad, but we’re here now, doing other things, being people. And for what it’s worth, I think you’re a good man.”

“Thanks,” Bull eventually replied. His eye crinkled, the signs of a small smile creeping into his expression. “You’re not so bad yourself. You know, for a Tal-Vashoth.”

Revalas laughed as he stood, brushing gravel off the front of his breeches, and turned back towards the door the Herald’s Rest.

“See? There you go. Now, lets head back inside and get something to drink. I don’t think I can listen to Rocky tell the same story for the tenth time this week while sober.”

#dragon age #iron bull #bullavellan #iron bull x lavellan #revalas lavellan #my writing #dadwc #welcome to the new boy :)#he's got Trauma but he's funny about it

19 notes · View notes

television-overload · 8 months ago

Text

Find the Word (Love Themed) tag

Ooh, I love this!! I'm gonna pull from my X-Files WIP (officially hit 60,000 words!) because I've been knee deep in working on it all weekend and am getting close to being done, I can feel it! (then I can finally get back to that NCIS project)

Thanks for the tag @hopeless-nostalgiac !

The rules are simple, find the given words in your writing (WIP, Published, a college essay - it doesn't matter) or something close enough (I think conjugating verbs and finding synonyms are both fair game) share an excerpt, and tag some friends and some new words to play too.

Words for me to find:

Date, Kiss, Bed or Bedroom, Love, Promise

Words for you to find:

Embrace, Feelings, Heart, Kiss, Gaze

Tagging: @randomfoggytiger @indestinatus @deathsbestgirl @numinousmysteries @agent-troi @skelavender @baronessblixen

All of these will be from my X-Files MSR adoption fic, so if you like what you see here... stay tuned. For some of these words, there were MANY options to choose from. That's all I'm going to say.

Date:

What had he been thinking? He asked her out without even sparing it a thought, not realizing how it would sound. To be going out on a date with your best friend who is technically your wife? Langly and Frohike were right. He is an idiot.

Kiss:

Scully is looking up at him, the only sign of her own internal turmoil being the way she bites her lip and tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. He wants to kiss her, oh, does he want to kiss her. But this is where the line between real and fake goes gray.

Bed:

He re-enters the bedroom as quietly as possible, and can tell by the uneven rise and fall of her chest that she's still awake. With a boldness he doesn't quite feel, he slides onto the bed beside her, adjusting the sheets over his chest.

Love: (I'm gatekeeping all the obvious ones hehehe, have a cryptic one instead)

The question mark at the end of the sentence is written on her face, and he finally makes the connection. Do you love her? she's asking. He grabs her hand, cupping it between his own much larger ones, and stares deep into her eyes. He won't lie, not to her.

Promise: (gatekeeping on this one too)

Mulder moves to stand without another moment’s hesitation, bouncing up with far more energy than a man of his age should have. “Thank you, sir. I promise, this is the last time we ask you to cover for us.” “Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Agent Mulder,” Skinner warns.

Oh, what the heck. Tagging @today-in-fic too.

#tag game #find the word tag #find the word (love theme)#my fanfiction #msr #txf #x files #xf fanfic #fox mulder #dana scully #msr adoption fic

10 notes · View notes

oohnotvery · 9 months ago

Text

Throwing Good After Bad (Chapter 22)

Mulder

Mulder expects a few things upon their return to D.C.: a procedural ass-kicking served up by OPR; a few official reprimands added to his file; and a suspension, maybe even—God forbid—termination.

He anticipates much of it correctly, and after a heated verbal spar with Skinner and Kersh, he and Scully accept their punishment—four weeks without pay. Leave your gun and badge with security. Don’t come near the Hoover for at least a month. Ignore the rubbernecking from your colleagues as you exit the building in a wash of anger and embarrassment. Forget the fact that Kersh didn’t receive a lick of punishment himself.

“At least,” Mulder says to Scully as they part ways in the parking garage, “they’ve got Evan on attempted murder.”

Scully’s lips purse thoughtfully. “I wonder if the court will take into consideration the fact that he saved your life.”

Mulder shrugs. “Reduction in sentence?”

They nod in agreement. There’s an awkward pause as they stand on opposite sides of Scully’s car, staring at each other.

See you in a month doesn’t seem right, not after what they’ve been through. But neither does please come back to my place so I can fuck the hell out of you.

By some unspoken agreement, they part in a strange middle ground—a friendly wave, a sympathetic smile, a promise to call.

None of it surprises him too much, not at first. He expected their punishment, even predicted Kersh’s absolution of guilt. What he didn’t expect was what followed.

They’re a week into their suspension and he hasn’t seen Scully since they parted in the garage. A few days ago, she told him over the phone that she would be seeing her mother soon. Maybe she decided to stay for a few days?

It’s with an uncharacteristic sense of self-preservation that he refrains from calling too frequently. You’re not supposed to look too eager, right? That’s one of the rules of dating? Are they dating? Fuck if he knows.

Apart from his burns, bullet wound, concussion, and severe dehydration, things had been pretty perfect in the hospital. To the consternation of the hospital staff, Scully had slept in his bed with him every night. They had been inseparable, as they should be. He mostly assumed that once they got home and Scully gave him clean bill of health, they would jump right in, taking this starved thing raging between them and giving it life.

Hell, he thinks as he bounces a basketball aimlessly up and down his living room, everyone at the Hoover building who thinks they’re sleeping together would be in for a fun surprise.

On day seven, he caves and calls her twice, and when she doesn’t answer either her cell or her landline, he starts to fidget.

“What the hell, Scully?” he considers yelling into her answering machine, but claps his mouth shut at the last second.

On day eight, he gives up and calls Maggie Scully. And blessing of all blessings, the woman reassures him that her daughter is staying with her.

“Oh,” Mulder says quietly, suddenly feeling awkward. “. . . . can I talk to her?” He feels like a teenage boy trying to get on the phone with the girl he wants to take to prom.

Maggie hesitates and he feels his stomach clench.

“Mrs. Scully?” he prompts nervously.

She sighs gently. “Fox, why don’t you just come over?”

He blinks. “Okay,” he agrees. “But can you tell me—is everything alright?” If he’s going to do this, he wants to know what he’s walking into.

“I think you’d better just come over,” she repeats evasively.

After a quick shower and an ill-conceived attempt to put some food into his jittery stomach, he’s on the road. Some time later, he stands on Maggie’s front porch, heart clattering in his ribcage. She opens the door with an overly sympathetic smile, and that’s when he knows something is truly wrong.

“What’s going on?” he asks, his eyes scanning the living room and kitchen for signs of his partner.

“She’s upstairs,” Maggie says gently, placing a hand on his forearm. “You can go see her,” she says off his questioning look. “But Fox . . . .”

“What is it?”

Maggie licks her lips uneasily, and it’s like staring at Scully’s double. “She’s not doing well.”

A shadow blooms in his chest and he nods tightly. He takes the stairs two at a time, dipping his head into each room. He’s generally unfamiliar with the layout of the Scully house but eventually finds his partner in one of the back rooms. She’s lying in bed, a remote in one hand, her eyes impassively glued to the T.V., which appears to be playing some kind of soap opera.

“Scully?” he says quietly, tapping his knuckles on the door.

She startles, her eyes growing wide as she takes him in. Her mouth opens in surprise and she scrambles up the bed, a red flush blooming on her cheeks. With profiler’s eyes, Mulder observes her quickly—rumpled, unkempt hair; face devoid of makeup; pajamas still on in the middle of the day; curtains shut tight against the windows.

“I wasn’t expecting you. I would’ve dressed,” she stutters out.

He moves to the bed and takes a seat beside her, twisting to meet her eyes. Her normally bright blue irises have clouded over, and although he can tell she’s trying really hard to excuse her appearance, he sees right through her.

“Scully,” he says gently, lifting a palm to her face. With his thumb, he circles the apple of her cheek before leaning in to press a kiss to her forehead. Her skin feels hot on his lips. When he pulls back, there is a glisten of tears in her eyes. “Hey, hey, what’s going on?”

She presses her lips together and shakes her head. It takes her a moment to regain the composure that she values so highly, and he waits patiently as she breathes through her emotions.

Finally, she swallows, then speaks. “I keep going back to that day,” she whispers. Her eyes flick between his own. “I spent a whole day thinking you were dead.” Her lower lip trembles. “Thinking you had died in this terrible, violent, horrifying way.”

She presses a palm to her chest and sucks in a breath, her shoulders shuddering as she releases it. He leans into her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and drawing her in. He can feel the rapid beat of her heart against his.

“I can hardly breathe with the memory of it,” she confesses softly.

His stomach drops as he considers that she has been silently suffering with this pain for over a week now. She turns her head so her cheek rests against his shoulder. After a moment, she speaks.

“What was it like for you?” she murmurs. “Those final moments, before you knew you were being rescued?”

His eyebrows crease and he pulls back, shaking his head gently. “No, Scully,” he says. “No, I’m not going to relive that with you.”

She grips his hand tightly and her eyes penetrate him, demanding information in a way he’s never seen before. “Please,” she begs. “I need to know.”

He studies her for a long moment, then sighs, dropping his gaze. “Scully, no,” he says with finality. He stares down at her hand for a long time, stroking her knuckles as he considers what she needs. When he’s ready, he glances back up at her. “We’ve spent years being chased by death. We’ve both come pretty damn close a dozen or so times.” He pauses, the words caught in his throat. “But for the first time in my life, I thought I was really, truly, finally at the end.” Scully bites her lip hard. “But I got to keep living, Scully. I got to keep living and I get to keep doing life with you. So I won’t focus on death, or what was almost taken from us. I’m going to focus on what’s living, what’s right in front of me.”

A single tear trickles down her cheek and he waits, wondering if she will accept this or fight him on it. She rubs her thumb into the skin of his hand in endless circles and he resists the urge to subdue her nervous energy. Finally, she leans forward, tipping her head to his chest.

“I keep thinking that if I knew how it was for you in those final moments, I’d have some sort of resolution,” she says.

“I don’t think that’s going to help you.”

She beats her fist into his chest, but it’s without any real strength. “I just keep reliving that moment of Lydia dragging me away from you.”

He pets her hair soothingly. He has received some training in trauma processing and for years, he has known that eventually, one of their near-death experiences would catch up to them. But re-experiencing this event isn’t doing her any good.

“Scully, look at me,” he insists, tipping her chin up. “I’m here. Right in front of you. I didn’t die and I—I believe I wasn’t meant to. Whether it’s due to your God or the Fates or simply the result of very good luck, I’m alive.” He tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. “But you know what I really believe?”

She tilts her head to the side in question.

“I believe that it was you, Scully. I think you saved me. I think you always have.”

She shakes her head critically, her nose crinkling at his nonsense. “I believed you died, Mulder. It wasn’t like during my coma when I—when I had the strength of your belief that I would live.”

He smiles at the memory. “That’s not what I’m saying. What I’m saying is . . . we’re meant to be together. Whatever that looks like,” he quickly clarifies. “And deep down, I don’t think your soul wanted to accept that it had lost mine here on earth.”

She stares at him hard for a long minute, and then, miracle of miracles, rolls her eyes. “Mulder, that is such crap.”

He barks out a laugh, relieved to see some of his Scully returning. He winks. “Just making sure you still have your wits about you.”

She bites her lip, shaking her head with a slight smile. “You’re right about one thing,” she concedes, and the air around them grows serious again. “We’re meant to be together.”

He clasps the back of her head and pulls her into a hug.

Mulder shuts off the soaps on T.V. and after a time, Scully falls asleep beside him. When she’s dozing peacefully, he retreats downstairs to make a coffee.

Mrs. Scully looks nervous as he wanders into the kitchen. “How is she?” she immediately asks.

He smiles to himself, nodding. “She’s going to be fine.”

Mrs. Scully’s shoulders collapse with relief. “She’s only told me bits and pieces, Fox. How bad—how bad was it this time?”

He cringes a little, avoiding her gaze. “Ah, it was not—not one of our better days,” he replies cautiously.

When he looks back up, Mrs. Scully is staring at him with a mix of regret and relief. They sit at the table and share a pot of coffee, both avoiding the topic of Scully and their investigation. He’s about to rise and take a cup of coffee up to Scully when he hears the patter of bare feet on the kitchen tile. He turns.

Scully tips her hand in a quick wave. He’s relieved to see that she has showered and changed into jeans and a long-sleeved t-shirt, which makes her look instantly more like herself. Her mother rises to kiss her on the cheek and then excuses herself from the table. Scully helps herself to a cup of coffee and then tilts her head towards the living room in invitation. He follows her there, settling in beside her on the couch. She sips at her drink for a few quiet moments, and he can’t help but notice the way color seems to be returning to her face.

“It’s nice to see you,” he finally says, hoping he sounds more casual than he’s feeling.

She hides her smile with the dip of her chin. “I think . . . I think it was wrong of me to isolate myself,” she admits.

He stretches and shrugs. He won’t pretend he wasn’t wounded by her long absence, nor will he act like she hasn’t hurt herself by staying away. But now that the concern and fear he felt on the drive here have faded, he feels the return of that familiar tension between them. But this time, it’s strung more tightly than it’s ever been before.

“When are you coming back to D.C.?” he finally asks.

He half-expects her to hem and haw around the issue, to tell him she needs more time. He grits his teeth in preparation. But her eyes flit to his and he sees a slight dance to them, a little mischief there.

She smiles knowingly. “I was thinking tonight, actually.”

His eyebrows rise. “Oh?” He tries his damnedest to sound casual, but he hears the ache and longing in his voice.

She sets her cup on the coffee table and scoots up until their knees are touching. “I don’t think,” she says evenly, “that it’s good for either of us to be alone right now.”

He huffs a little laugh. “I could have told you that a week ago.”

She rolls her eyes good-naturedly. “So, Mulder.” She fixes him with a meaningful look. “Want to keep me company tonight?”

His eyes don’t leave hers. “Your place or mine?”

She grins, and although neither of them is anywhere close to healed, he can see the light returning to her eyes.

“Mine.”

#msr #msr fanfic #x files #mulder x scully #txf #dana scully #the x files #x files fanfic #fox mulder #xfiles fanfic

19 notes · View notes

saltymongoose · 2 years ago

Text

Alright, the second part's finally here! As with the previous part, just lmk if there's anything here that needs to be changed and I'll get right on it. Other than that, I hope you enjoy it! :) <3

[Part 2] They Comfort Their Disabled!Transmasc!Partner During a Jobsearch ft. The Main 3 + 2BDamned

(TW: Mentions of Violence, Brief mentions of disability-based discrimination, extreme fluff.) [Part 1]

- [DEIMOS] -

“They fucking what-”

If you weren’t so disappointed, you’d almost consider Deimos’ level of outrage at your firing comical. He seemed like he was minutes away from going to your previous workplace himself to start something. He was so agitated, pacing around the room and even shifting in your embrace as he comforted you, his hands flexing against you and his knee bouncing restlessly.

He still has an angry pout on his face even as he cuddles you, muttering compliments to you and scathing insults to the people you used to work for. He’ll dial it down if you want, but his irritation at this still remains palpable. In fact, even after the initial day when you told him what happened he wouldn't drop the issue, going as far as bringing it up a few times to see if you changed your mind about him doing anything to retaliate for you.

(The first time it happened was just a day afterward when you'd decided to take a break from researching jobs with him. Deimos stole your attention from the show you'd just started by grasping both of your hands in his, to which you looked at him with slight confusion. He gave you a slightly crooked smile.

“I know we've been over it, but baby...are you sure you don’t want me to go take care of those pricks? It won't take that long, and I won't even do anything that bad, I swear." You scoffed. Yeah, like you'd trust the word of your boyfriend, a wanted murderer and notorious menace to society, not to do anything drastic after that show he put on yesterday. Although, that's not to say it wasn’t tempting. Especially with how Deimos was looking at you like he was about to beg you to let him do it. Unfortunately, though, you knew that it was more trouble than it was worth.

"Um.. no, hon...as much as I'd like that, I think that's going too far like we said before. But thank you, I appreciate that you'd do that. I love you." You cooed the last words out sweetly and accompanied them with a swift peck to the cheek, leaving Deimos grinning with pink-stained cheeks.)

In terms of actual comfort though, Deimos' MO tends to be a mixture of two things: distraction and physical touch, all blanketed with the same warm affection he's given you throughout your relationship. He knows you're busy with finding a job, but he's the one who convinces you to stop and take a breather from it to do something with him instead. Sometimes he'll even volunteer to read off the listings to you himself just so you can rest your eyes for a bit.

(He also makes fun of the listings that are more outlandish. A retail job for half of what he'd make at the Agency, and detailed with a complaint about how "ungrateful" the previous employee was for the opportunity? Excellent; prime material to use to make you laugh.)

While Deimos has always been very touchy around you, in this case it's heightened by a hundred; he always seems to be contacting you in some way, whether it be pressing your thighs together when you sit with him or covering your face with kisses in an effort to make you giggle. He just loves being close to you, and basking in the light of your grin and the love you have for him.

You won't notice it, but he also uses this closeness as an opportunity to look you over for any signs of exhaustion or pain. No matter how much you might try to "suck it up" or hide it, you won't be able to. Not around him. He's far too observant to miss it; those subtle signs of tiredness in your eyes and the sudden shifts in your posture whenever a wave of pain echoes through you are just a few of the tells he's attuned to catch.

He'll do all he can to get you what you need to manage your symptoms (including some medicine that Skinner recommended since he spoke to him about this before). He's surprisingly strong too, so if you want him to carry you anywhere because you're fatigued, all you need to do is ask. (Sometimes he'll also do it without any prompting too since he seems to have a sixth sense for when you'd like it. Luckily he has enough foresight to ensure you aren't holding anything fragile when he suddenly picks you up.)

Deimos' pyrokinesis makes him incredibly warm, and all the better to cuddle with whenever you're in pain. It's cozy, with his purrs and raspy whispers filling your ears as he rambles on about this and that, and his hands rub small circles over your skin when you press your face further into the curve of his neck.

(You smile against him when he presses a quick peck to your forehead, and you can practically feel his purring grow louder as a result. The soothing vibrations pick up and you can feel sleep beginning to tug at your eyelids. Your pain isn't completely gone, but having him so close and holding you tightly to him is so soothing that it becomes easier to get through.)

As for your job search itself, Deimos will volunteer to write up a program or two for you to "filter" out the less desirable offers you find, and to look for those you'd prefer. He has more than enough time to do so (thanks to Doc's generous offer of PTO), and he figures that the knowledge he has regarding tech would be best used to help you.

He's also asked if you want him to request (beg) 2BDamned to find a place for you in the SQ. It's an organization of mercenaries, but surely they could have a need for your skillset somewhere, right?

(You know that part of it is because Deimos wants to spend more time with you, since his job keeps you both apart most of the time. It's a topic that he brings up a lot, and although he makes his complaints humorous and words them as jokes, you can tell that it really bothers him. Then again, why wouldn't it? He absolutely adores you, and wanting to spend more time with his boyfriend is normal - especially in a place as dangerous as Nevada. It's just a shame that such domestic moments are very uncommon.)

Despite the unfortunate circumstances that brought Deimos home to you, he'd consider this break he takes to be well worth it. He's always loved spending time with you, and it's especially important that he does so when you need comfort. While he can't enact any ideas of revenge against your previous employers (as much as he'd love to), he'll use all of his energy to help you feel better instead.

You'll always know of Deimos' love for you through his actions and the words he speaks to you, although he can only hope that you understand the true depth of it. There's only so much he can convey through that alone, but he thinks that it's at least a small way to prove just how much he loves you. He's made it clear time and time again that he'll be there to support you, no matter what that entails. In a way, it sort of reminds him of a few of those famous words he's made a plan to say to you in the future - something with "for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer” and “in sickness and in health." Perhaps he’d have to do some research on jewelry stores after this is through.

- [SANFORD] -

Sanford’s initial reaction to your firing is burning anger, but also one that’s tempered by his need to comfort you in the wake of such an awful situation. He isn’t as impulsive as some others, and he recognizes that helping you is the main thing he should be focusing on at the moment.

He doesn’t say very much, other than the short praises and sweet nothings he might whisper while you bury yourself in his arms, pressing your face against his neck to muffle your cries. He listens to you when you vent about what happened, the frown on his face deepening with every word of how cruel your employer was and why they had the audacity to fire you.

When you trail off after ranting, he'll use the moment to praise and reassure you of how excellent of a person he knows you are and just how much you mean to him, gently wiping the tears from your cheek with his thumb as he looks you in the eye. His voice is low and thick with emotion, and he knows that if he dwells on his thoughts for too long he might get too emotional - but you just mean so much to him, and you need to know it now more than ever. That you're worth far more than your previous employer could ever know, and that they took you for granted for foolish reasons. He wants you to know just how foolish they were, and how wonderful you are in reality.

("You...you really mean that?" You asked, and Sanford felt a sharp stab of pain in his chest once he saw the way your eyes glistened.

He nodded resolutely. "Every word." He knows you might not completely believe him, but that was alright. He'd repeat it to you as many times as he needed, if only so you could get a glimpse of how he viewed you; how you deserved to be seen. You’re the love of his life; the person he adores above all else, and he could spend near infinite hours pointing out every single little detail that he loves about you, from the way your nose crinkles up when you laugh to the way light reflects in your eyes. He only wishes he had all the time in the world to tell them to you.)

These little talks are frequent in this period, when you spend your time looking for a job while he takes care of more menial things on the other side. Though most of the time you eventually end up cuddled close together, with him keeping one of his arms around your shoulders while his other hand clasps your hip. You rest your head on his shoulder as you converse, with him keeping a watchful eye on you for any discomfort and pain while you try to find the words to express your thoughts.

It's never hard for you two to speak to each other like this, as you're completely open with each other, and being so close like this just makes it easier to spill talk. It's probably because cuddling with your boyfriend means that all of your senses are filled with everything distinctly him, from his scent to the sound of his voice and the warmth of his body; it's the most comfortable you think you've ever been. You feel safe with Sanford, and you know that nothing you could possibly do would push him away. It makes his comforting gestures all the more impactful for you, and it's easy to accept any help from him.

(However, his focus on comforting you doesn’t mean he’ll just let what happened go, mind you. He doesn’t care about your ex-employer enough to go through the effort of destroying them himself; they don’t deserve the time necessary to do that. Although, if a swarm of Zeds was seen frequenting their area, or the bandits get further into the city in that sector, then he’ll find an excuse not to help them if asked. Sanford is usually nicer than most other mercs, but he still isn’t a “good” man. Sympathy from him ends where any mistreatment of his partner begins, no matter how dire the consequences to other people are. Besides, dire is what they deserve here.)

Sanford has always been an attentive boyfriend; even before you got fired, he’d made it clear that he would always be there to help you out with anything you need. Now that you’re busy looking for a job, this simply means that instead of cooking for you every once in a while (in other words, when he was finally back from his missions), he’d do so every day. It means going out to fulfill minor errands and cleaning, doing laundry, etc. He essentially plays house husband so that you can handle your own business, and he does so without even letting you know he’s made it part of his routine.

(Every so often, you’ll look up from the paperwork and resumes you’ll be working on with the realization that there’s something else you should be doing; dishes to be washed, trash to take out, laundry to put in, only to take a few steps to find nothing there and the task already completed. The small, knowing grin that Sanford tries to hide is enough of an answer as to what happened.)

You shouldn’t feel guilty about this either, he’s doing this just because he wants to assist you this way. This is the same regarding your disabilities as well; if you need anything, no matter how trivial you might consider it, he’d do it for you. Any amount of effort is worth it as long as it keeps you comfortable and happy.

He’ll get you your medication without any fuss or complaint (no matter how far he has to go to retrieve it), and he’ll also schedule any appointments with your doctor if you need him to. He’s also spoken to both 2BDamned and Skinner to get any medical advice that could help you, more so the latter because of his knowledge of such things. However, if you need someone more specialized, he’ll ask Doc to do some networking and find someone to help if necessary.

(Speaking of 2BDamned, Sanford also asked him for some more time off so he could be around to assist you for longer, which the man was quick to give. Sanford might not be the most open about his personal life, but being around him has allowed Doc to glean quite a lot about his love for you. 2B is not very sentimental, but he knows that you both deserve to be together at this time. That and the fact that Doc can see how Sanford brightens up whenever you’re a topic in conversation shows him that the grunt’s affection for you far surpasses whatever drive he has for job at the time anyway. He has no reason to keep your boyfriend from you, so he won't, and he even asks Sanford to give you his good wishes before he departs.)

If you take a look at one of the small notebooks Sanford keeps, you’d find a general list of reminders for himself that includes the aforementioned medical information, in addition to the new “chores” he does for you. Even if he can’t remember the specifics off of the top of his head (as is the case with some of the more complex details like the exact milligrams of medications you take and where to get them in an emergency), it’s still important to him, so he writes it down just in case. You might think of it as incredibly thoughtful if you ever found out, but he’d just consider it part of the basic responsibilities of being a boyfriend.

(Although he’d split things up again if you ask, he hopes you know that he can do whatever you need him to so you can focus on your career. (Which you definitely do by now, no question about it.) You need some time to find another place to work, so he’ll carve it out for you in whatever way possible.)

As for helping you find a job, he’ll ask around the SQ for any news of good places to work, and he does find out quite a lot from 2BDamned's other field agents who frequent other places. While some of it can’t be that applicable to you, depending on your chosen profession, you accept all the news with a smile and a few words of gratitude (perhaps even a kiss to Sanford’s cheek, if you really want to fluster him with your thanks).

He's even asked you if you wanted him to find you a place within the SQ, though he'd ensure it's an administrative/clerical job first since he can't stomach the thought of you being in danger. Additionally, if you want him to look for something more specific, all you need to do is ask, and he'd be more than happy to go along with it.

(You'd also notice that all of the offers he brings up to you pay far more than you were making previously, and are in far safer places than those he's acquainted with. Sanford might long to be close to you so you can be together more often, but he isn't stupid; being near his division in the SQ means being closer to potential conflict with the AAHW and his organization’s other enemies, and he refuses to put you in that situation. You already have enough on your plate with this, and he'd rather take the worry of distance than almost-definite danger.)

Sanford seeks to provide you with whatever you need, no matter what it is. He wants to prove his reliability to you, so you know that you always have him in your corner, ready to support you at all costs. You're his boyfriend (and perhaps you'll even be more than that someday); you deserve someone that can give you the world. While Sanford knows that the state of Nevada is uncertain, one of the only things that he knows will always stay the same is the overwhelming amount of love he holds for you.

He'll always be yours, just as you're his. Regardless of what you both go through in the future, he'll make sure that he's always there to help you because that's what love means to him. It's security and comfort, and the knowledge that the other person is always going to be a safe haven for you. It's something he's never really spoken about with you, but you've always understood it deep down. It's shown in how he takes care of you, and how there's always an intrinsic feeling of trust with him. In situations like this one, where you need help while getting back on your feet, so to speak, it only becomes more evident. Sanford’s always felt like you represent home to him, and with how he insists on showing his love for you in any way he can, and how you share the deep feelings of love he holds for you, you’d say the same about him.

#tw: discrimination #FINALLY omfg #masc!reader #male reader #deimos x reader #deimos #sanford x reader #sanford #madness combat x reader #madcom x reader #my writing

63 notes · View notes

katy-kt-katie · 2 years ago

Text

"Couples Retreat"

What's a little therapy, a shared bed, and intimacy exercises between platonic partners?

Complete Fic, Chapters posted at least daily. Beta: @agent-troi

“Meeting with Skinner in five, Scully,” she heard him yell from the front of their office.

She was in the annex, looking at evidence under a microscope, and had completely lost track of time. She was grateful for the reminder. Skinner told them in passing earlier that he needed to discuss a policy change and a new case with them.

The policy discussion had her on edge. The new case had Mulder filled with glee.

“Maybe it’s the Yeti, Scully.” He teased.

“In your dreams, Mulder.” She replied, exasperated.

“As long as we can work it together.” He said. He’d been extra protective of her since their last case; she almost lost her life when a novelist had turned stalker, and Mulder had hardly let her out of his sight since.

She appreciated his concern and, honestly, she enjoyed his increased attention. Still, she didn’t know what to make of it, realizing it was probably temporary.

They made their way to Skinner’s office, Arlene waving them in.

“Agents.” He gestured to the chairs across from his desk. “Thank you for coming. I have a new case for you and a policy update that aligns with some specifics of the case.”

“Okay,” Mulder asked.

“It’s undercover as a married couple again. You two did well enough in Arcadia—the bosses thought of you for this case. A couple’s therapist, Rebecca Stratton, is counseling wealthy clients and is suspected of blackmailing them with their relationship secrets.”

“So, we are going to become new clients?” Scully asked.

“Yes, she’s hosting a retreat in upstate New York this weekend. You will attend the event as a couple and try to determine who is involved and how she is getting clients to share such intimate information.”

“With all due respect, sir, this is not an X-File. I’m surprised this is even an FBI case,” Mulder said skeptically.

“Let’s just say,” Skinner whispered, “a certain individual with an office inside the Capitol Building is being blackmailed and has called in some favors, Agents.”

Mulder pursed his lips and nodded.

Scully’s mind drifted, thinking of playing a married couple again. In Arcadia, she wanted to lean into the experience and enjoy some time alone with Mulder—the man she considered her favorite person on most days—but Diana had returned and created a fission of distrust that resulted in both of them spending the days caged and grouchy, despite solving the case. Maybe this time will be different? She thought.

“Are you okay?” Mulder leaned over and whispered to her.

She broke out of her daze. “Yes. Sorry. I was just thinking.” She turned her attention from Mulder to Skinner, “You said a policy change is involved here?”

“Yes,” Skinner said. He shuffled some papers on his desk until he seemed to find what he was looking for. “The F.B.I. policy prohibiting fraternization has changed.”

“Sir?” Scully asked. She looked at Mulder, and he had a confused look on his face.

“Well. I know you two have worked very hard to be discreet about your, uh…personal, romantic relationship. You had to pretend to be married for the Arcadia case but also pretend to be platonic; I’m sure that was tricky.”

Scully was thoroughly confused about where this was going but unable to interject, temporarily losing the ability to formulate words.

Skinner continued, “The new policy is Disclosure. Partnered agents can be in relationships or married as long as they sign a disclosure form.”

He held up two papers in his hands, “Basically, you swear to do everything in your power not to let the relationship compromise your work. The change was made as F.B.I. HR feels it is better to have an awareness of these relationships, rather than encouraging people to hide….”

He was rambling.

Mulder interrupted. “Sir, we aren’t in a relationship.”

“See, that’s the thing Agent Mulder; you don’t have to pretend anymore.”

“We aren’t pretending, sir. We aren’t in a relationship.” He said.

Scully was frozen. Their boss was convinced they were having sex, maybe in love. Holy shit, she thought.

She looked to Skinner, who was looking at Mulder with an astonished look on his face.

“Agents, I apologize if I misunderstood, but…you have keys to each other’s apartments, you seem to be able to communicate in some secret language, and you have a secret handshake. Mulder—Agent Fowley came back—and you didn’t seem interested in her, despite your past.”

Scully was shaking her head and realized Mulder was doing the same.

“SEE THAT! You mirror each other. And you are at each other’s apartments all the time.”

Two partnered heads continued to shake vigorously.

“Fine, you aren’t in a relationship currently, but you are going to sit there and tell me nothing has ever happened with you two?”

The hallway—Mulder—a bee. Scully thought. But technically, nothing happened then, and certainly, nothing has happened since.

“No, sir. We are partners.” Mulder said.

“We are just close, sir,” Scully added.

“Could have fooled me,” he said, shaking his head. “Well, I thought this would help alleviate any burden of the undercover assignment…but I guess it’s a moot point. Are you two willing to take the assignment?”

“Yeah,” Mulder said.

“Yep,” she added at the same time.

“You will need to think of some salacious details of your—well, what apparently is a non-existent relationship—to share with her, to pique her interest in you.”

Scully could feel her face fill with heat and blush. Oh my god, she thought. She wanted to disappear into the chair.

“We’ll take care of it, Sir,” Mulder said.

“Okay, good. Flight tomorrow morning. Here is your cover information. Dress is casual classy; go home and pack.”

Mulder nodded, and Scully followed him out of the office.

She could tell he wanted to talk about all that had just happened in Skinner’s office, the fact that he believed they were in some kind of intimate relationship, and that they needed to create ‘salacious’ details for their cover. But Scully felt like she couldn’t breathe. She saw Diana walking towards them in the distance, and for once, she was glad to push her partner towards his ex.

“Fox!” Diana said.

“Mulder, I have to go take care of some things. I’ll see you at the airport tomorrow.”

“Scully…but…”

She was gone, leaving Mulder and Diana in her dust.

To Read future chapters or leave me a comment or kudos- link HERE on AO3. I will post again on Tumblr when fic is fully posted on AO3.

#today in fic #msr fanfic #couples therapy #todayinfic #mulder and scully having sex #mulder and scully fanfic #first kiss #first time #tropes

33 notes · View notes

iamprchung · 5 months ago

Text

Dancing in the Moonlight 6/?

Synopsis:

From the lofty recesses of Aspen, where luxury collides with a trail of vicious attacks, FBI agents Mulder and Scully interview a jittery waitress who whispers of hidden darkness within the resort. Following cryptic leads, they face off with a grieving relative, fiercely protective of the official investigation. As tensions rise and the truth remains elusive, a chilling question hangs in the air: are these savage attacks the work of nature, or something far more sinister lurking in the shadows?

Notes:

To split or not to split, this has been the constant, burning question during the entire writing process of this part. This has gone through four rewrites trying to whittle it down, but it’s not going to farewell if I don’t treat it right. I’m still darkly chuckling about where this has come considering it was supposed to be a quick one and done, born of a single scene idea… one of which has not even occurred yet, and making me mad and feverish to reach!

Speaking of feverish… Yes! Skinner is showing up – God as my witness, that man will be in this this story – and not for something lame, like a cameo!

And as a matter of fact, I did consider naming this part ‘From Monster to Moron.’

Dancing in the Moonlight 6/? – Spirit Animals

By PR Chung

Amanda Payne, or Andie as she preferred, exhibited signs of what could be past trauma, traits that became evident during her interactions as she guided Mulder and Scully through the Spectrum Lunate kitchen.

Along their route through the restaurant kitchen, the looks thrown by Andie’s co-workers were undeniable. At first, it seemed like circumspection or curiosity, as word spread about the FBI investigation, but it soon became apparent there was an air of disapproval and even mockery cast toward Andie.

Moving out of the kitchen area and the acute attention of other employees, Andie’s nervous chatter transitioned from the mundane about back-of-the-house operations and became more focused, with a hint of bitterness, as she remarked on the deaths of her friend and co-workers.

“This was Jeff’s area,” Andie pointed out as led them through the large, busy kitchen, “but this isn’t even all of it.” She gestured toward two steel doors, “The freight elevator, direct line to the delivery bay and main storage.”

“He managed all of this?” Scully asked, impressed.

“Oh, yes,” Andie nodded enthusiastically, “The supplies, inventory, food deliveries, lots of responsibilities.”

“Who’s managing this now?” Mulder asked.

Andie glanced toward the kitchen, hesitating before she answered. “Marty. Marty Kolwalski, he does… at least until they find a new manager. Maybe Mr. Gunderson will make him the new manager.”

“Gunderson?” Mulder repeated the name. “As in Mayor Gunderson?”

Andie squinted and dipped her chin. “Yep. Yep, one in the same. He’s part owner here, in the resort. But he’s pretty much in charge of hospitality.”

“Do we take the elevator?” Scully asked Andie, wondering about their route.

“No, Jeff didn’t go that way… that night,” she explained tentatively, “He, um, he went this way, down the stairs. I’ll show you.” She led them through a doorway and into a stark stairwell, the sound of distant motorized equipment ricocheting up through concrete.

Andie motioned for them to follow her, continuing, “See, he took the stairs. He was always going a different way around here. You’d never know where you’d run into him, which way he was coming or going. He didn’t like a lot of attention, and I think… I think that’s what got him killed, being secret like and taking that shortcut.”

Scully glanced at Mulder. This sounded like a purposely varied routine. “Andie, did he ever say anything about being followed or being concerned for his safety?”

Andie looked back at Scully, frowning confusedly at the question. “No.”

“Are you or any of the other employees concerned about safety?” Mulder asked, “Have you or anyone else seen something on the resort grounds that concerned or scared you. Anything strange?”

Andie hesitated, glancing back at him. “Strange? Like what?”

“An animal, or something animal-like, maybe something no one had seen before?”

Andie shook her head, working her mouth before she replied, “uh, yeah, I mean, we seen all kinds of animals around here, but… we never saw a mountain lion if that’s what you mean.”

“Not exactly…”

“You or none of the other employees have ever felt threatened here?” Scully broke in, shifting away from Mulder’s line of questions. “By any of the local wildlife?”

“Oh, you know, you gotta be careful,” Andie answered in a sing-song tone, “they can be really cute, especially those little baby bear cubs, but wow, momma would not like you hugging on one, I’ll tell you that.”

“Did you know Alice Steinman,” Scully ventured.

Andie’s mood shifted, dropping at the mere mention of the name. She nodded, “She was my friend. Alice was my dearest and only friend.” She hesitated, coming to a stop on the stairs, the slightest smile touching her mouth, “she was my spirit animal.”

“Your spirit animal?” Mulder asked.

“Yeah, like, you know, some people have actual spirit animals, like eagles or bears…”

Mulder nodded, “Or wolves?”

“Yeah,” Andie agreed enthusiastically, “like that, but Alice, she was my spirit animal. She really took care of stuff, she had a plan, and she didn’t take shit off anyone that gave it to her. She was fierce, but…” Andie hesitated, lost in thought for a moment. “She was kind, though.” She looked at Mulder and Scully. “She was really kind to me.”

“Andie,” Mulder said in a careful tone, “Back in the bar, Marty mentioned that she had gone to see her ex that night, at the Sonder Hill facility. Did she go there often?”

“Alice went to see Randy a lot,” Andie explained, slowly starting back down the stairs.

“Randy… her ex?”

“Yeah, Randy Rabb, you know,” Andie explained, her mood lifting, “the guitarist for Osculate.”

She looked back at the agents for a reaction. Neither reacted and Andie was clearly shocked. “Osculate?” The band was obviously not in the agent’s CD rotation. “They did ‘Long, Long Lick.’ You gotta know that one?”

“My BMG club selections haven’t come in yet this month,” Mulder offered with a shrug.

“Sonder Hill is a addiction rehabilitation facility,” Scully stated, “Andie, could Alice have possibly supplying Randy with drugs?”

Andie came to an abrupt halt on the stairs, turning to look at Scully with a scowl. “She wouldn’t have done that!” She declared defensively. “She wanted him to get out, to get back with the band. Him and Alice were going to get back together when things were better.”

“Did Jeff ever go with her to visit Randy?”

“No.” Andie said tightly and turned, starting back down the stairs with a weighted gate. “They didn’t talk anymore after he was made manager.”

“Was she in line for the position?” Scully asked taking an extra step or two to align herself with Andie on the stairs.

The woman drew back, her expression pinched. “It was Alice that should have been manager, yeah. She really knew this place, how it worked inside and out. She would have been an awesome manager.”

“But Jeff got the job instead, why?”

“She shot down that handsy…” Andie paused, glancing back up the stairs cautiously before she continued more quietly, “that handsy Gunderson, Jimmy. That’s why she didn’t get the job.”

“Alice turned down his advances,” Scully asserted.

“Like a million times. He was always creeping her out, coming into the bar and following her, wanting hugs, and asking her out. She’d had it and told him the honest to God truth one night.”

Andie looked at Scully, saying, “she said she regretted that, telling him the truth.”

They reached the bottom of the stairway, where it opened to a utilitarian space. A garage bay stretched to the left, while a push bar door stood sentinel straight ahead. The sounds of motorized equipment now loudly filling the concrete space, crashing in from the delivery bay.

“Did he ever threaten her, or do anything to hurt her?” Mulder asked Andie.

“No, I don’t think so,” Andie frowned thoughtfully. “She never said he did, and I never saw him do anything other than be a creep, you know.”

“Andie!” a male voice shouted down the stairwell, making her jump and whimper. “You done showing those agents around yet?”

“That’s Marty, I’m going to have to go, I can’t show you all the way,” she told them. “But honest, I didn’t want to go out there anyway.” She hurriedly pointed toward the exit door with a shaky hand. “Got out that door, and It’s the wooded area straight across, that’s where… that’s how Jeff went. Straight across to employee parking.”

“Andie!” Marty shouted again.

“I gotta go,” she said and headed for the stairs, leaving Mulder and Scully behind.

Speechless, they watched her climb the stairs at breakneck pace. A beat passed before they exchanged a wordless look.

Finally, with a grin, Mulder told Scully, “I’m torn between running out to get Osculate’s latest album and getting an audience with the elusive Mayor James W. Gunderson.”

“Mulder, I’m not certain if what that woman has told us can be taken for fact. I believe she’s suffering from either post trauma or a dissociative disorder, conditions that manifest in ways that blur the lines between reality and memory.”

“That doesn’t lessen the importance of what she’s told us.” Mulder retorted. “She just seemed nervous and upset.”

“It certainly lessens the validity of it.” Scully proclaimed.

“Scully, this man, the mayor, Gunderson, has a connection with all three victims.”

“It’s a relatively small town, Mulder,” Scully said. “The man, who I might note you have not even met, being part owner in the resort, and works in the city offices, is circumstantial in itself when it comes to him being connected to the victims. It’s not an incrimination.”

Mulder declared, walking into the delivery bay, his voice nearly drowned out by the cacophony of noise.

The delivery area was a symphony of organized chaos. Trucks occupied four bays, a waiting line forming behind them. Trailers aligned with the dock apron were hurriedly offloaded by forklift, headed for the refrigeration and storage lining the apron. On the far side of the dock, the open freight elevator stood open and at the ready, a hungry maw for the next kitchen delivery.

“Some operation,” Mulder observed before turning back to the exit Andie had directed them to.

“I need to point out that Skinner was adamant about not pursuing your… theory any further. We need to focus on the facts of the case during the investigation. There’s already been one complaint…”

“And I’m sure there will be more the closer we get to what’s being covered up in this town.” Mulder declared as they went through the exist door, stepping into the openness of the resort back property.

The sound of music filled the air, drifting down from above them. They looked up seeing the restaurant terrace, perched on sturdy timbers, stretching out over an ever-increasing wooded area, lunch patrons barely visible along the edges, and the tail-tale signs of a band set up and playing to the guests.

“Lively place,” Mulder commented, squinting upward at the restaurant terrace.

“If a band was playing the night of Raven’s death…” Scully postulated, “likely no one would have heard him call out.”

“But did he have a chance to call for help?” Mulder wondered aloud, scanning their surroundings, viewing clutches of woods peppered throughout, a narrow walk gated off from the rest of the resort that meandered far to the right leading to the parking lot, a steep hill rose up to the left leading up under the restaurant terrace.

“It’s no wonder Raven took a shortcut,” Scully observed.

“Come on, Scully, let’s see what’s in these spooky old woods.”

---------------------------- xXx-------------------------------

Entering the woods that separated the resort from employee parking, they quickly recognized the location of Raven’s death, where on branches remnants of crime scene tape fluttered in the breeze. At the base of a tree a makeshift memorial had been created with colorful plastic flowers, candles, cards, and objects appearing both personal and symbolic tributes.

“Ironic for a man who didn’t like to bring attention to himself.” Scully observed.

Mulder added, “Not to mention the attention his death alone stirred up.” He crouched before the memorial, studying its contents briefly. From among the items, he picked up a small stuffed animal that was clearly a wolf. Holding the toy up into Scully’s view, “not actual size?”

Scully sighed purposefully, “You know what they say, Mulder. Size matters...”

“You shouldn’t touch that,” a man’s voice sounded from behind them, immediately turning their attention from the memorial.

A man stood at the edge of the woods, watching them. Older, with silver hair pulled back in a short ponytail, he was dressed plainly in a plaid shirt and jeans, a large silver buckle glinting in sunlight peeking through the treetops. His face was lined and ridged by age and sun exposure, his features of almond eyes, strong nose and high cheek bones spoke of his native American heritage.

“Why?” Mulder asks, “because of its spiritual properties, a supernatural connection between the deceased and the spiritual plane?”

The man stared at him; his voice laced with annoyance. “Because his sister left it here for her brother, you moron. How would you like someone taking the flowers off your loved one’s graves?”

“No, no I wouldn’t” Mulder got the point and offered a thin apologetic smile as he carefully put the stuffed animal back among the memorial. He stood and took a quick step back as the man approached.

“What business have you got here?” He questioned, clearly irritated. Without giving them a chance to speak, he went on while he bent to straighten items in the memorial. “You two come down from that hotel to see where a man was torn to pieces? Going to go back home to your suburbs and tell the story to your friends over wine and cheese?”

Both agents had pulled their identification out while the man was talking. “Actually, sir,” Scully said drawing his attention, “we’re investigating the recent deaths. I’m special agent Scully and my partner, agent Mulder.”

“Are you related to Jeffery Raven?” Mulder asked.

The man straightened slowly, “I’m his grandfather, Joseph Raven.” He looked between them, and squinted at their IDs, lingering for a moment before speaking. “FBI. Why are you investigating Jeff’s death?”

“Not just his death, but the two other attacks.” Scully explained.

Joseph nodded, thoughtfully considering them. “So, you, the government, doesn’t believe the Sheriff is doing his job?”

“Do you believe the Sheriff and his department are doing their job?” Mulder asked, reflecting the man’s challenging tone.

“Yes.” The man straightened, his expression growing harder.

“Sir,” Scully interceded, forcing a pleasantness that she could barely muster that drew the man’s attention. “We’re not hear to question the Sheriff or his department’s competence in this matter.”

“Then what are you here to do?”

“To determine if your grandson and the others were murdered.” Joseph Raven looked at Mulder, who concluded, “And assure no one else dies.”

“Everyone dies eventually.”

“Sir, did your grandson ever mention if he was concerned for his safety for any reason?” Scully’s voice was growing lower, her patience wearing.

“No, he never said anything.”

“What about something, anything in the woods?”

Scully closed her eyes and shook her head, so badly wanting to scold Mulder. “Don’t…” she internally begged.

“Jeffery grew up here, in these hills, these woods, with the wildlife.” Joseph explained sincerely. “There are always risks in these parts. Animals are unpredictable, just like people.”

“You’re a member of the Ute.” Mulder straight out asked the man. “Am I wrong?”

Joseph was stone-faced. “I am.”

“Your people, you trace your origins to a half man and half wolf. Is such a creature stalking these woods?”

Scully half turned from the unfolding scene, touching her head that was beginning to ache.

“Creature?” The man said, offended. “The Creator does not stalk woods or kill people like some Hollywood monster. Government, my grandfather talked about the Creator, about Sinawav. He talked about retribution for a man’s bad behavior, told stories about wrong doers and those that strayed from the path…” Joseph took a step closer to Mulder, giving the agent an intense glare. “My grandfather was ninety-four years old and senile as hell.”

Mulder considered the man, unaffected. “Had your grandson strayed from the path?”

Joseph Raven took a moment, closing his eyes and lowering his head, gathering an inner strength for which Mulder was testing. “My grandson was a successful man,” he finally said, raising his head, turning to address Scully, “I was very proud of him for achieving what all of us were denied. This is all I know.”

The man began to walk away and stopped, half turning to look at Mulder. “I’m going to try not to be insulted that you reduced me and my culture to a stereotype. And I will consider not reporting you to the federal government for these insults.” Joseph turned then to Scully, “You really should put in for a different partner, this guy is going to drag you down.”

With that, Joseph Raven walked away from the agents, leaving the woods to enter a utility truck parked in the employee lot. It took only a moment before for the engine to roar to life and the tires squeal as the man aggressively backed up and pulled away.

“Great, Mulder, now we’ve pissed off the native population—” Scully’s scorn was interrupted by the honk of a horn.

“Hey!” They turned in the direction of the shout, seeing Kessler waving from the window of his SUV in the parking area.

Jake Goodman leaned into view, a big smile on his face as he waved at them.

“You two just going to hang out in the woods all afternoon?”

---------------------------- xXx-------------------------------

To be continued… and continued… and continued…

#dancing in the moonlight #the x files #xfiles #the xfiles #skinner #scully #skinner scully fanfic #walter skinner #xfiles fanfic #mulder

2 notes · View notes

medusapelagia · 1 year ago

Text

Prompt one: I can’t pretend anymore

(I’m posting this from the hospital so please be kind 😅)

This is not happening. It is absolutely not!

It is not.

“Sorry.. what did you say?” Steve asks, looking confused.

“You heard me. It’s over.”

“But… why?”

“Why? Are you really asking me why, Steve? Well if you want to know it’s because I’m fucking tired! I’m tired of lying, I’m tired of hiding and I can’t pretend anymore!”

“But… you told me we were fine.”

Eddie snaps “I devoted two years of my life! I stayed in this fucking town for you! I buried all my dreams because I thought that one day you were gonna to finally wake up and look into my eyes and tell me that you love me! But you didn’t! You never did! And what am I supposed to do? Waiting for you forever?!”

Steve shivers.

He knew that Eddie was waiting for him, that he stayed when the others left, but he never understood how much time had passed. How long they have been dancing around each other. He thought that they had all the time in the world.

But now Eddie is looking at him with angry tears in his eyes and a beaten bag at his feet.

“Are you leaving me?”

What a stupid thing to ask! Of course he is! He just told him so!

Steve doesn’t move, scared that if he moves Eddie will disappear forever.

“Yes Steve. I’m leaving. Wayne found a job for me with him in Oregon, I’m going to take the van and I’m leaving.” He takes a deep breath “I love you. I love you so fucking much but I deserve more than being your dirty little secret.”

Steve nods. He knows that Eddie deserves something better. He knows that he deserves the world, but he is too scared to give it to him.

He looks at him for the last time. Something inside him is screaming, telling him to get on his knees and ask for forgiveness, but he doesn’t.

Eddie sniffs and finally moves, slowly, toward the door.

“I wish you the best, Harrington.”

He nods again, while he feels a lump in the throat.

***

Four fucking months.

Four months of watching the closed door with a homemade sign that says EDDIE.

Four months of pre-made dinner because there is no point in cooking for one.

Four months of sulking, these are Robin’s words.

“Have you tried to call him?”

“For telling him what? That I’m a fucking moron? That I’m a coward? That I can kill monsters but I’m unable to admit my own feelings?!”

“This could be a good start.”

He should call him. Just to know how he is.

But he doesn’t.

He is a coward.

***

Keith gives him some holidays and Robin comes to take him on an adventure.

She doesn’t tell him where they are going and what he has to pack so he brings everything, from the sunscreen to the parka.

They relax on the beach, they hike through the mountains. Robin is driving. Robin is driving her little car that is so full of stuff that Steve is surprised that it can manage to drive to the peak of a stupid mountain.

When they finally stop, they are in front of an old cabin.

“I know we are poor, but I assure you that we can afford a motel. We don’t have to sleep in a creepy house where at least one murdered already happened.

Robin is still in the car.

“What? Are you leaving me here in the middle of nowhere?! It’s not funny Rob!”

He turns toward the car but she is already leaving, his bag is on the floor with some flowers she insisted on buying at the gas station.

The door behind him opens and he is face to face with the man that occupied his dreams for the last four months.

“Harrington? What the fuck?”

“I’m a moron. And a coward. And living with you is hell. And I miss everything! Even your mess! Please forgive me!”

The words come out of his mouth without even giving him the time to think about them, and that is a good thing! He doesn’t have time to analyze every single thing. He just… said it. As he should have all this months ago.

“These are for me?” Eddie asks, looking at the flowers.

“Robin buyed them.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

“They are for you.”

He smiles.

Eddie is skinner, even if his arms are still strong and he can still see the blue line of his veins.

“I missed you.”

“I missed you too.” He replies “But if you want to go back to how it was…”

Steve shakes his head “You were right. You deserved more and I was a fucking idiot. But if you will give me another possibility I’ll do my best!”

Please, please, please give me another possibility, Steve hopes with all his soul.

“Actually… I’m leaving. I’m not made to leave in Oregon and Garreth and Jeff asked me to move to LA with them. Trying to make it big, you know?”

Steve nods.

He is too late.

He is four months too late.

“What… what’s your opinion on sandy beaches and oceans?”

Steve eyes shine with joy “Are you asking me… Are… are you sure?”

“Have you look at yourself in the mirror lately Harrington? You are a mess! It’s clear that you can’t survive without me!”

He hugs him tight, kissing him on the lips.

It’s just a peck but it’s enough.

“I love beaches…” he replies on his lips.

#myfic #steddie #prompt #angst with happy ending #tumblr ideas #tumblr prompt

14 notes · View notes

scullysexual · 2 years ago

Text

Spooky Mulder's UFO Club (4)

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.

Chapter Three | AO3 | @today-in-fic

---

Chapter Four: What's In Alaska?

“Permission slips,” Skinner says, handing them to Mulder. He gives one to Dana before passing them down to everyone else. “Get them signed, bring them back on Thursday. On the other side is a list of equipment and clothing you need to bring with you. Remember: We’re heading up a mountain. Pack smart.”

“I can’t believe we’re actually going,” comments Mulder. He stares at his permission form in awe.

“Remember to thank Monica’s dad’s friend when you see him,” says Dana as she gathers her things. “He’s the reason we’re going. And Monica for mentioning it.”

“Thank you, Reyes,” Mulder says as if he hasn’t thanked her enough times already. He turns back to Dana. “Want to sit next to each other on the planes?”

Dana smiles. “Sure.”

Ethan is waiting for her when she gets out of class, leaning against the wall. He looks cautiously at the Lone Gunmen, Monica, and Leyla as they leave. He also makes a conscious effort to give Mulder a dirty look as he passes.

It had been three weeks since Dana had joined T-soup. Most of the jokes had stopped though every so often Colton will make his tiring Mrs Spooky comment. Dana enjoyed the classes immensely, arguing with Mulder over whether lizard baby’s could exist or if people could hibernate for 30 years stoked a fire inside her, she looked forward to the Tuesday and Thursday classes. Ethan barely mentioned T-soup anymore, Dana thought he made the conscious effort to avoid its existence, ignore that it was a class she attended. He wasn’t happy about it but there was nothing short aside from breaking up with Dana that he could do about it.

“What’s that?” he asks, eyeing the form that Dana still held in her hands suspiciously.

“Permission slip.”

“What for?”

“A trip. We’re going to Alaska.”

Ethan, unasked, takes the paper from her.

“What’s in Alaska?”

“Just an old case me and Mulder found the other day.”

“Bashful Mountain…” Ethan mutters to himself, reading the form. He passes it back to her. “How long will you be gone for?”

“Six days.”

“Six days?!” He frowns. “And Mulder’s going?”

Dana looks at him. “Yes, Mulder is going.” Was he stupid?

“Can I go, too?” He directs this question towards Skinner who exits the classroom.

“You’re not a member of this class, Minette,” Skinner answers as he locks the door.

“Well how hard could it be to join?”

Skinner sighs. Dana eyes Ethan with a wondering look.

“What the hell,” Skinner mutters to himself. “Go to the copier room and print off another permission slip. If you get it back to me by Thursday you’re on the plane.” With that, Skinner leaves.

Finally alone, Dana turns to Ethan. “What the hell are you doing?”

Ethan grins. “What? Can’t let you and Spooky have all the fun.” He starts to take off down the hall. “You heard Skin-Man, if we print off a form I get to go.”

Dana knew Mulder wouldn’t be happy with this arrangement and if she was honest, she wasn’t so happy either.

His heart sinks when she tells him.

“I thought he thought the class was a joke?” Mulder says over the phone.

“He does,” Scully answers. She grows quiet for a moment. “I think this has something to do with me…and you.”

“What about us?”

“I don’t know if you’ve seen how he’s been acting lately…”

“Yeah, he’s all over you all the time, kissing you.” He grimaces at her pause. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine,” she dismisses. “But he only ever does it when you’re around. In public, anyway.”

Mulder shifts on his feet, uncomfortable. “I guess this changes our seating arrangement plan on the plane?” He says, wanting to get away from topics of Ethan and Scully kissing.

“I’m afraid it does.”

Mulder smiles sadly at that. He had it all planned out: Eight hours of flight, he’d try to wind her up with some ridiculous theory, listen to music, there was even a War of the Worlds tape he had that he was going to introduce her to. Now, with Ethan tagging along, he had no chance.

What was Ethan’s deal with him anyway? Four years and they have never said a word to each other and now suddenly he’s some big problem. Mulder’s fist clenches. He’s well aware Scully is off limits but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t want to be her friend still. Besides, Scully doesn’t think of him in that way. Why would she?

“Hey, maybe we’ll get lucky and his parents won’t sign his form,” suggests Scully. Mulder thinks he hears some hope in her voice.

“Maybe,” he answers back though it was unlikely.

“Anyway, I have to go,” says Scully. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Yeah, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

The dial tone sounds and Mulder puts the phone back down. He heads into the kitchen where his signed permission form sits on the counter. Smiling, still in disbelief that they were actually going, he puts it inside his bag ready for Thursday. No way was he missing out on this trip.

A minibus is ready to take them to Dulles Airport first thing Monday morning. Students gaze in wonder as they head inside, taking note of the group, wondering why the UFO kids get to go on some special trip. Skinner sends the loiters away with the threat of being written up and they soon scurry off into the building.

Ethan, unfortunately, pulls up at the last second, climbing out of his dad’s car, grabbing his gear from the back. He joins the others near the bus, making a beeline straight for Dana where she stands with Mulder.

“Hey,” he greets, a hand sliding up her arm. “We’re still sitting next to each other, yeah?”

Dana glances towards Mulder who is deliberately looking away from the two of them.

“Yeah, we are,” she answers with a slight smile.

They load onto the bus once the driver has come back from his smoke break. Ethan heads towards the back, Dana following, but the seats have already been taken up by The Lone Gunmen.

“Move it, nerds,” commands Ethan. “Cool kids sit here.”

“Sorry man,” says Langly. “Looks like we beat you to it.”

Ethan, however, is unfazed.

“Seriously, move it. We’re sitting here.”

“We just told you, Hack. We ain’t moving,” says Frohike.

“The fuck did you call me, you little toad?”

“Watch who you’re calling a toad, Jackass—”

They’re words have caught the attention of the girls and Mulder who watch the conflict with interest. Dana rolls her eyes though her cheeks start to redden with second-hand embarrassment as the squabble over seats continues.

“Nobody asked you to come,” pipes up Langly.

“It’s a seat, Ethan,” Dana says, not even hiding the fury from her voice. “Just sit down.”

“Did you hear what he called me?” Ethan asks her but Dana is done listening.

“Minette!” Skinner barks from the front. All attention moves to him. “Sit down or you’ll be sitting up here with me.”

Facing defeat Ethan huffs out a frustrated sigh. He brushes past Dana in his effort to sit in the next seat.

“I’m coming for you, dorks,” he quietly threatens to the boys behind him.

Frohike glares at him. “Ooh, I’m scared.” He says sarcastically.

Beside Ethan, Dana sends him her own glare.

“What?” Ethan asks, a little harsher than he intended to.

“Why do you have to be such an ass?”

“The fuck did I do?” he exclaims, hands flying out. With no answer from Dana, he turns towards the window. Dana looks the other way, staring out of Leyla’s as the bus begins to set off. It was going to be a long trip.

#the x-files #the x files #txf fic #xfiles fanfiction #smufoc #scullysexualwrites

28 notes · View notes