#i just really think scully deserves a chance to tell her brother that he's not her father and needs to stop fucking infantilizing her

[nachosncheezies]

💋🎉🥰🤲

For this ask game.

💋 First kiss fics. Love em or hate em?

A fact about me, which may seem counterintuitive given my posting, is that... I'm actually not that much into shipping. I appreciate it, when done well, but it's not really the romance per se that draws me to things or drives my interactions with a piece of media. I don't really love OR hate first kiss fics; I suppose I would put them in the same category I put whump: if it's well done, and has some kind of plot or deeper introspection or something around it, something that helps the characters develop in some way, that's great! But just for its own sake? Meh.

🎉 What leads you to consider a fic a success?

It's cliche, but feedback, especially comments. One of the best I ever got was on the first fic I posted, where I'd put a stereotypical "I'm not a writer, please be nice" sort of nonsense at the top. I got a comment from a complete stranger that started with, "okay, 'not a writer,'" and rode those four words straight into the next two stories I wrote. If I've made someone feel something enough that they've taken the time to say so, that's pure gold, and a definite win.

🥰 How do you feel about reader interaction? Are you open to receiving questions about your fics?

I LOVE questions about them!! I love chatting about my shows in general, but tbh writing meta sometimes hurts my brain. My fics are almost all canon-compliant and usually express a headcanon or an interpretation of canon events. Sometimes I'm demonstrating why some part of canon that folks seem to hate or think makes no sense actually makes perfect sense to me. It's always so fun to chat about blorbos, I guess I'm just better at showing my thoughts on some things through fic than I am at explaining. :D

🤲 Would you please share a snippet of a wip?

Bless you 💕 every time you do this you force me to look at another bit I've not worked on for a while and it sets my brain on fire with ideas for how to improve or expand on them. :D How about one not from season 8? Set in the reduxes, a scene I drafted ages ago for Scully and Bill Junior. I was delighted to later discover it has a lot in common with the deleted scene from I think it was memento mori? (also delighted that the deleted scene can't be considered canon, because what did air has him not aware of her cancer until much later, so my version could still stand :D I'll post it someday, probably)

"You're being rude," she stated. "I'm just looking out for you." "I know that you believe that, but you're also being rude." "Dana, I know-" he started, but she cut him off with a look. "I asked to speak to you, I would like you to listen," she said, and tipped her head toward the chair beside her bed. "Sit." His jaw flexed, but he acquiesced. "Look, I'm not going to ask you to like him-" "Good, because I don't," he interrupted petulantly. She gave him a quelling look. "I am not going to ask you to like him," she repeated, pausing between each word for emphasis, "and I'm not going to ask that you understand him. But I need you to respect me. We aren't kids anymore Bill, I'm a grown woman; I can make my own decisions. Please don't belittle that by assuming that I'm somehow being..." she searched for the right word, "manipulated."

thank you thank you thank you, a million times thank you for asking 💕💕💕

[deathsbestgirl]

some more comments:

okay i kinda just let it go, but mulder looking at a porno magazine at work — literally what was he doing lmao

the flirting in this episode is next level — especially this early. it isn’t the same sibling-like/friendly rubbing. not all of it anyway.

and i love whiny scully, team bring out bratty scully more

this episode is why i don’t believe that dating, getting married and having kids (typical escalator relationship & life stuff, cookie cutter stuff) is what scully *really wants* — like yes, it’s how she grew up, what she’s accustomed to, what’s expected of her. but doing what’s expected of her? she was supposed to be a doctor. a respectable & generally safe job for a woman. and instead, she specifically chose pathology & joined the fbi when she was recruited. against the wishes of her family & then boyfriend. the writers try to shoehorn her into this kinda ideal when it doesn’t suit her. when she gets a taste of a normal guy & a chance at what she’s supposed to want, she’s nearly bored to tears. and she has times of wanting something more normal throughout the series, but she never makes any real moves toward it. (if it doesn’t include mulder, it isn’t worth it.) and the only time she seems to enjoy anything so domestic is 1. with mulder 2. in arcadia, which is still with mulder, and on a case. where we can see her visibly enjoying the casework since they’re finally back on the x files, their rightful place. and their first case requires living together & pretending to be a couple. so anyway.

forever love mulder for giving the homeless man his hotel room. like. it’s such a small thing, but it’s beautiful. and the man is so excited for hbo, it’s adorable — and mulder thinks so too. this whole but is so sweet.

almost everything with mulder feels obvious. like it’s maintext and you don’t have to try to hard to understand where he’s coming from (mostly) whereas with scully (and msr for a long time) is more subtext. it isn’t perfectly presented on a silver platter, you have to unravel it & look for the layers. he tends to be much more open with his emotions and scully tends to talk around her own.

the open office still cracks me up. he wasn’t in the basement originally. there were plenty of agents around, just outside his door.

“the drunk tank?!” *hides, embarrassed by her very loud outburst in a crowded room*

it’s the way she ~delights~ in telling him she has a date — why is that scully?

the scene with her former professor “our intelligence virtually ensures that, barring the introduction of some alien life form, we will live out our days as rulers of the world.” “well, nice to know dana left her with more than a degree.” this teasing jab is perfect. her talking about alien life to mulder, has she lost her mind lollll

scully moving because mulder moves…

“but not outside the realm of extreme possibility” — is this the first time this is said? is it the only time until the revival?

fake scully (as in she seems very unlike herself) on her date is so painful especially when she looks so pretty

and also, another example of a man displaying baser instincts. scully makes a comment about her godson’s party, but what about this guy dreaming of killing? his ex wife’s new boyfriend…

i just think mulder & scully deserve more positive professional relationships & good working relationships. forever saddens me. 1. because they deserve it 2. because there aren’t many recurring characters besides the regulars/“mains” & guys like tooms or donnie pfaster or krycek

scully being more coordinated is my favorite (the tumble & sucking) team scully is the best shot in the bureau & could take down any male agent or suspect and not just when it’s convenient writing — girl’s a baby brat with brothers

the way mulder is so taken with this “beast woman” is strangely sweet. kinda makes my heart melt because he’s absolutely fascinated & awed by her in the most pure way. he wants to make sure she lives & stays unharmed and he works hard to protect her. the idea that she’s real, that she’s been out there for years, gives him home. he wants to believe.

and omg! the comedy of the ambulance scene. mulder rambling about the jersey devil woman as he’s being fixed up by the ent and scully’s on the phone with washington trying to get them jurisdiction. it’s chaotic, there’s so much noise, he just doesn’t shut up, and she’s fighting for them & this woman. like scully trying to explain & defend their actions and mulder is yelling something about “tell them they’ve got a real life neanderthal running around atlantic city” raving half crazy but completely & wonderfully lucid.

the jersey devil has always been my favorite. it’s the first episode i really remember (i was TWO when this show started) and sometimes i forget how full it is of little msr moments.

scully walks in on mulder looking at a magazine and teases him. “anti gravity is right” her little smirk gets me every time.

she tells him about a case she knows he’ll be interested in and immediately he digs his claws in. pulls out another x file from whatever year and tells her to take a look. instead, she wants to hear it from him and it’s oddly adorable.

she didn’t hesitate to follow him or drive with him to new jersey. *and then* he wants to make a weekend of it. do a couple touristy things with her and investigate the case because that’s what they do and he needs the excuse to spend time with her. scully gets all pouty when he tosses her the keys and has a three hour drive alone to look forward to because she has to go back home.

and THEN at her godson’s birthday party, she has a little chat with her friend about kids & having a life and the woman immediately asks about scully’s partner (LMAO) scully deflects, cuz she already knows mulder pretty well and thinks he has no room in his life for anything but the x files & the search for his sister.

like these two idiots are already falling but so staunchly pushing it aside and focusing on ~the work~ because they both truly care about it. their dedication to it is real & honest. but it’s so cute how they use it as an excuse from the beginning.

and god it irritates me when the writers & whoever act like mulder & scully don’t really talk. because they do, but a lot of it is the subtext of what they’re saying aloud. they learn quickly how the other’s mind works, and maybe it’s just me, but that means a lot. that takes knowing someone intimately and they do that by talking. and sure, maybe they don’t get too ~personal~ but they don’t even current personal lives to share about. they talk about their history when it comes up, or if a case is somehow related. they don’t really pour their hearts out, but that isn’t them.

their intimacy & knowledge of each other is rooted in their work conversations and all that reveals. which is so so much. it’s why we, as the audience, are so enthralled with them & the show.

ANYWAY. then when mulder is arrested, who is called except scully. and how quickly she goes running back to jersey for him. only to tease him, and for him to demand she take him out for food.

and *of course* he wants her to stay. mentions *he* has a hotel room. the audacity he has is adorable. and so she almost delights in telling him she has a date, even though she ends up visibly nervous & uncomfortable. MORE TEASING. the way she laughs at him when he says he has a life. because she knows exactly what his life is. i live for the way scully teases mulder. it’s affectionate & kindhearted.

after the conversation with her friend, she thinks she wants a life outside work, outside mulder & the x files. but she can’t talk to this man about her work & expect him to understand it or not judge her, and she is bored out of her mind. yes, she loves kids & wants a family. but listening to this man talk about his life — she can’t even come up with any responses. so obviously when mulder pages her, she can’t take the out fast enough. like?? ditching a date to go jersey devil hunting with mulder. priceless.

omg the way his phone rings and he just picks up and says “scully” because of course she would call that quickly. and he knew she would because he sees that same fire in her that he has.

all the little quips she makes during cases, i feel like this episode has some great ones. “talk about primitive behavior” talking about her godson’s party. “i can see why they would take you for a vagrant.” calling it the drunk tank when she takes his call. scully’s sense of humor is on point and i wish we got more of it. and i think it’s the way that if someone else said a lot of these things (especially to mulder) they could easily be construed has mean hearted or cruel, but that’s just not something she has in her and especially not for mulder.

the jersey devil on top of mulder — this scene is something else. the tension is so good. the acting — impeccable. this woman has no lines but there’s so much emotion when she’s on screen. and mulder talking about her? “she was beautiful” he sounds deranged and scully goes into doctor mode (the Touching, “well she just about ripped your lungs out”) then agent mode so they can have jurisdiction. ever the professional but with such personal motivations. again when it isn’t ~personal to her. i ADORE scully. there’s a reason she’s the first character i ever fell in love with. (thank you gillian anderson! you had two year old me hooked before i knew anything or could even intellectually understand this show.)

“tell him he’s got a real life neanderthal on the loose”

mulder is injured and bloody and running through the woods to protect this woman. she can’t even be taken down by the dart they shoot at her. incredible. and scully & her former professor may be more intellectually invested in this case, but their goals (as well as the park ranger’s) are all aligned and it’s just beautiful?? these are four gentle souls in a modern world surrounded by cruel people.

omg i almost forgot about when her date calls the office and mulder answers. he doesn’t say anything in the moment, but when she comes out to meet him, he does. and when she follows him, he teases her?? “don’t you have a life scully?” keep it up mulder and i’ll hurt you like that beast woman” “eight million years out of africa” “and look who’s holding the door” one of my all time favorite moments. and idk why but i love that she cuts in front of him and opens the door to let him go first.

it’s so interesting to me how often scully bites her tongue. she isn’t afraid to tear down men or take them down. but when there’s procedure to be followed, she stays quiet. it’s almost painful.

this episode is why i thought they were married. i didn’t care that scully was on a date, didn’t even think twice about it — they were MARRIED.

it’s so funny to me that scully laments having no life so early in the show, when presumably before this, she should have had the time if she was teaching. and i know they cut ethan out, but even if you take into account she had a relationship right before / at the beginning, she jumped into the x files head first and let it envelop her life so quickly.

[scullysflannel]

top 5 moments of your favorite shows that make you go *cat biting the wire*

this is impossible, I love it

1. paige getting off the train, the americans, “START” — the finality of it makes me wild. it’s the split-second decision that you know is going to change your whole life. she’s never going to see her parents again! they’re never going to see their daughter again! and this is what philip and elizabeth deserve, even if it isn’t what we want for them. they have to face the truth that their kids were born to be a lie. their love for their kids was tragedy, not redemption. they could break away from the job in the end, but the job WAS their kids, too. what all the international intrigue comes down to is a family split apart by secrets. greatest tv finale of all time.

runner-up: developing paige’s photos in the garage in “darkroom.” I love paige making her parents face what they’ve done. twist that knife, babe.

2. “we fucked up with nora,” the leftovers, “the most powerful man in the world (and his identical twin brother)” — (suicide tw) the entire concept of this episode makes me feel like I’m chewing a live wire: kevin going back to purgatory (if that’s what it is), jumping between two versions of himself, the burdened leader and the killer, denying until this moment that he is both of them. he can’t see himself clearly until he accepts that he has a death wish. and the root of his problems is that he pushed love away. by extension that’s the root of the world’s problems, because everyone has a death wish. the fact that the leftovers visually manifests a world destroyed by the inability to love in the image of a man cutting open his own chest, splattering his white suit in blood, while “god only knows” is playing — it’s visceral, it’s hyper-literal. emily nussbaum wrote that the leftovers “erased the line between personal and global annihilation.” you do understand.

runner-up: kevin singing “homeward bound” in “the prodigal son returns.” oh to be a fly on the wall of the writers’ room when they dreamed up purgatory karaoke.

3. “there has to be an end, scully,” the x-files, “requiem” — she’s pregnant with his baby and they have no idea. hello! the thing about this scene that really makes me unhinge my jaw is that mulder and scully know the right thing and can’t do it. they should walk away, but they aren’t ready to. there’s something similarly screwy in each of them, a dedication to the work that makes them hurt themselves. maybe the choice they’re presented with is impossible, because what good person could walk away willingly after what they’ve seen, but it’s still inherently destructive. the one catch is that if they had gone back to oregon together, maybe they would have been able to save each other. but maybe not. the flaw in mulder and scully is the same as the flaw in the show: getting stuck in routine, still doing the same thing over and over again expecting a different outcome. and for this one scene they admit, and the x-files admits, it’s not worth it.

runner-up: “there are other fathers” in “never again.” as discussed.

4. kim scheming under the sheet, better call saul, “something unforgivable” — the intimacy and romance of plotting to ruin your old boss’s career! what gets me about the scene is the merging of innocence and danger. I love the cut to kim and jimmy looking sweet under the bed sheet, like it’s a blanket fort, but what kim is baring to jimmy is the darkness in her. when she says she’s just playing, she wouldn’t really take howard down in order to get paid, it’s only a test to see if he bites (haha unless...). she’s thought about this, and she likes it. there’s something radiant and scary in her. @iconicscullyoutfits said in the tags that “moral descent is quiet,” and that’s what I love about the whole show. moral descent starts with caring a whole lot.

runner-up: kim and jimmy throwing beer bottles in “the guy for this.” it’s a sign of what’s coming: they recognize a shared rage in each other. jimmy tempts her, but kim acts first.

5. sydney ripping into vaughn when he asks if she’s okay, alias, “the two” —the season 3 premiere of alias rewired my 14-year-old brain. I just thought she would say she was okay when her ex-boyfriend came by to check on her, because I thought that was what women had to do: say we’re fine. but she's not fine, and she says so. the whole life she used to have before is gone, including her relationship with vaughn. and now he comes by the office to see if she’s okay? the way she rips into him is so satisfying to me; it’s everything I’ve ever wanted a woman to say to a man who asks how she’s doing. “you didn’t come here to see how I am. you came here to see how you are... what you came here for is closure, and there is not a chance you are getting that from me.” I think I have most of it memorized. she refuses to minimize her feelings for his comfort. split my idea of how to live in the world wide open.

runner-up: sydney finds out she’s been missing for two years in “the telling.” cliffhanger of all time.

[borkthemork]

Drabble Request: marcy and anne discussing a show together

It was ten p.m. on a Saturday, the usual time for a usual tv viewing. And the show they watched wasn't anything special.

There were elves, werewolves, cthulhu kids, sure, but the series itself was supposed to be a back burner kind of show more than anything. Enough for her and Anne's brains to turn off, snuggled up under the bedding with only each other for comfort.

In fact, Marcy had been more focused on Anne for the night.

It made sense to focus on Anne. After all, she was the one who held her throughout the viewing. And to Marcy’s surprise, Anne was the one who had talked for most of the binge. Not like that was a bad thing, honestly Marcy didn't have the braincells to think today after a long day of uni work, so she allowed her wife to take the lead, listening in as she exclaimed her surprise and voiced her questions. The topic of discussion was simple:

"You think they'd get back together?"

"Hm?" Marcy said.

"Leo and Hal." There was a hint of uncertainty in her voice. As if this was the right question to ask. "I mean I'll be pissed if they did, but I want to know your thoughts about them."

Marcy snorted. With Anne wrapped around her, she almost fell asleep from the comfort, and now that there was something to focus on, she honed in. "Hey, I'm honestly more curious about what you think. Leonardo and Haley are a well-developed couple, I don't see anything wrong with them if they keep it up with therapy."

Anne's arms tightened for a moment, and let out a light huff. "I guess. Just come on, girl's been through a lot. Leo doesn’t deserve her if he keeps complaining about missing his chance all the time."

"Anne, that's what we call slow burn pining."

"Really?" Anne sounded in disbelief.

"Yeah, Annie B. There's a reason why he kept going to the intergalactic library. He’s trying to revive what was felt between them after he betrayed her during the goliath pregnancy arc.”

"Oh geez," she groaned. Marcy couldn't help but grin. "Are you serious right now? Is he legit trying to play it cool?"

"Yes, I'm serious!" Marcy tried to breathe. She didn't even care if she threatened to slip off the couch, this was comedy gold. "The flying, spinning sword was all a metaphor for his double-edged devotion. It was obvious!"

"Man, Cthulhu Junior needs to come back and save this show."

Marcy smiled to herself. She pressed her thumb lightly against Anne's arms, feeling it shift under her ministrations. "I'm surprised. My friend told me that the romance drama in this show is superb, especially after the flat earth disco arc. I thought you'd appreciate it."

"I mean," Anne stopped herself. "What's so great about Leo? He's so shy, really hard to please too, it's weird that he'll let people stomp around him and then get angry when Haley doesn't commit to things the same way as him, like c'mon man, work on yourself first."

"Well, isn't that the point?" Marcy asked. "He's going through an arc, Anne. They're growing together as people. The show isn't just gonna throw them into a story and then leave them static forever."

"Yeah, but," Anne sighed. Marcy held her tighter when Anne’s lips pressed against her neck. "Guess I'm not into their dynamic much. I'm here for the fluff, right?"

Marcy giggled. "You just really want friends to lovers."

"Heck yeah," Anne's voice rose for a second, almost indignant. “I’m all about friends to lovers, that's my whole deal!"

Marcy leaned into her kisses. "Well, don't worry about that. This show's got one in the next few episodes."

"You serious?"

"Mhm. No joke, I ain't no romance expert but the couple's pretty good on the Anne Boonchuy scale."

Anne's laugh drifted into her ear, and Marcy giggled when her wife pressed into her backside for a second, a clear sign that she was intrigued. "Kim Possible level or?"

"Just…" Marcy hummed contently. Didn't help that Anne's lips traveled further down, finding a nice clean spot on her shoulder. Dang it, Anne, I'm trying to think. "Okay that's unfair. Nothing can reach Kim Possible levels."

"I heard those two dudes from X-Files were pretty good," Anne mumbled.

"Oh, yeah. You're right, Mulder and Scully are pretty good."

"Who?"

Marcy turned to look at her, stunned. "The main characters from the X-Files, Anne. Isn't that what we're talking about?"

Anne's eyes widened. She stopped kissing her now, and looked more confused than before. "Oh, no, wrong show. I meant the angel dude and the guy's brother."

Marcy choked. "You don't even watch Supernatural!

“But still!”

"They're not even friends to lovers!"

"Listen, someone said they were gay and that they fit the bill!"

“They're not even together!"

"They aren't?"

Marcy couldn't breathe. She had tears in her eyes, this was too much. "No!"

"Oh." Without even looking, Marcy could tell Anne was staring blankly at the tv screen, mind shattered beyond repair. "I really need to fact check these forums, huh?"

For Marcy's sake, yes.

[bellatrixxue]

Xue’s Supernatural Dare: Wendigo (S1 EP2)

Hello, everyone? How did everyone feel about the finale? Yes? Yes? Oh. Oh. Oh my. Oh, dear.

Weeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeell that half-assed homophobic chicken-shit fuckbucket’s not gonna stop me, since I strapped myself onto this roller coaster already and I promised I’m not getting out until the ride’s over, so here we go, wheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!

Also, those who are in this roller coaster with me, ready? Tag list is: @fangirlxwritesx67​ @amazingiam00​ @kalliravenne​ @indecisive20something​ @2musiclover2​ @impossibletosleepthrough @there-must-be-a-lock​ @wingedcatninja​ @arvit​

Oh my gods this recap is so cheesy I actually can make a fondue out of it. 2000s, everybody!

A WHOLE MINUTE AND A HALF FOR THAT FONDUE

FUCKJUMPSCARETITLEFUCKYOU

So we’re starting the episode with the murder scene first, eh? Is that gonna be a trend?

Oh come on, Chads, you’re out in nature and you’re playing video games? Absorb the nature...before it absorbs you!

Waitwait. Holy shit is that...is that Cory Monteith? Oh, bless his soul...

If the wendigo eats his dick as he’s peeing I’m immediately giving Jensen Ackles $100. For no real reason, I just feel like giving him money for already carrying the show on his back.

I can’t tell if it did or not, so I’m not paying yet.

Aw, Sammy...

"I should have told you the truth.” *Vine voice* BUT YOU DIDN’T

FUCKYOUINTHEASSHOhnightmare. Nightmare. So did he visit her at her grave or not? I need answers.

A week? Goddamn. Poor thing. That man-eating tree’s fucking good at his job, man.

“There’s nothing there, it’s just...woods,” Sam, I don’t know if Jess’s death hit you hard or if you got into law school by eating some ancient dick and/or pussy instead of earning that high score fair and square, but the woods “in the middle of nowhere” (your words) are known to be one of the top places full of weird-ass creatures. Even kindergartners know that.

Ehehehehehehehehe he’s so smol next to his lil bro my lil shit

At least you’re coming up with decent covers this time. No Agent Mulder and Scully ruining things for you this time around.

“Bull” oop-

Oh Dean’s a smoooooooooth operator. Good going, buddy.

AND HE GOT A COPY OF THAT DOCUMENT TEAM DEAN TEAM DEAN

Oh that death really got to Sam. I hope he doesn’t turn out to be a trigger-happy psycho. Or eat the man-eating tree and become one himself.

Oh, Haley’s a cutie! Which one’s her brother? Cory? Discount Enrique Iglesias?

Do you have a card for EVERY profession, Dean? And how do I get them too?

That is a very pretty car. I bet they wasted half the budget on that thing.

Okay, sonny boy, little bro, Broseidon, calm down.

Ah, fuck, Haley and Broseidon is gonna go into the woods, that’s more heads to worry about.

How the fuck does Sam find information this fast? I’m impressed, I take five hours to get to one article for my research paper. Or maybe I’m just lazy. So he really earned his law school interview without having to eat dick and pussy, huh.

Every 23 years? What is this, Pennywise? Are we going to see the wendigo do his best Tim Curry do his best scary clown impression? Honk honk?

“Whatever that thing is, it can move.” And the sun rises on the East, Sammy. Why are you so smart and dumb at the same time? Is this his character trait? It might grow on me.

Ahhh, so Sam’s go-to move at interrogation is doing puppy dog eyes and sympathize with the person. He’d make a good lawyer, shame that man-eating tree.

Go Grandpa Exposition, go!

Go Grandpa Exposition, go, give us information and none at all!

OH GEEZ THAT SCAR. PENNYWISE WENDIGO IS VICIOUS.

Skinwalker, Back Dog...Ooh, those all sound cool! I hope we get to see them soon!

‘Corporeal’ doesn’t sound like a real word, but then again, English doesn’t sound like a real language. Sorry. Moving on.

Sam’s gonna eat the wendigo with that attitude, Jesus Christ.

AND HIS BROTHER, AT THIS RATE. If the real villain turns out to be inside Sam all along I’m gonna flip. Is that why women keep dying and burning on ceilings where he sleeps? Is he secretly Lucifer’s spawn or something?

“Oh sweetheart I don’t wear shorts”. They queer-coded him from the start and they tried to make you believe he was straight for fifteen seasons straight? And some people bought that?

Oh, crap, another crappy death treatment for Cory before he got into Glee...No, I wasn’t into Glee, I just watched a few episodes and I might hate Rachel Berry...And Lea Michele...ahem...

Dean is totally flirting with Roy shut upppppppp

OOP AND THERE ROY GOES OH THE SEXUAL TENSION IS HIGH IN THESE WOODS TODAY

“It’s probably the most honest I’ve been with a woman. Ever.” See. Bi. Bi bi bi.

So...why the coordinates, Daddy Negan? Is this a portal to Hell? A place where man-eating trees grow?

*carefully places death flag on Roy*

Ooooh the campsite is very...haunted house-y. You know what I’m saying?

That’s not Discount Enrique Iglesias, but Pennywise wendigo, yes? Those things can mimic human voices, right?

*Google searches*...There are so many versions of this tale I can’t even confirm or deny it. Dammit.

Maybe Pennywise wendigo just wants some snacks and a nice phone and GPS? Maybe he misses his family in uh, Canada or something?

Daddy Negan’s journal is  a e s t h e t i q u e .

I’m so sorry, but the way Sammy smirks as he speaks with those dark, dark voids for eyes? My boy’s a demon. He’s a demon, I’m telling you.

At least Haley has some sense to her. *puts another death flag on Roy*

*PUTS YET ANOTHER DEATH FLAG ON ROY*

True, that. What the heck is Daddy Negan up to with all of this?

“Saving people, hunting things, the family business!” Okay, the way Dean said it gave me chills.

I can actually empathize with Sam here...As whiny and bitchy as he is, he has his reasons to be this way. I guess if I were in his shoes, I’d be less of a Dean and more of a Sam, too. We deal with our losses quite similarly.

Ah, the brotherly bonding moments like these little talks make the show worth it. It’s so heartwarming.

Pennywise wendigo! I didn’t miss you, why’re you here to burst my happy bubble?

I’m starting to see a slight parallel between Haley and Broseidon and Dean and Sammy. Hmm.

Nice meeting you, Roy. Zoop you go.

Haley and Broseidon are taking this rather well, I’m glad they do.

Okay, actual exposition time, thank you.

Whoa, Broseidon speaks! Donner Party! Please don’t remind me of that! Those poor people!

Hibernation and food storage. Delightful, just delightful.

TORCHING? *CALLS RAMMSTEIN*

Somehow, not being able to see the wendigo is scarier to me than what I will probably see itself. Limited budget horror can actually work well.

Oh, dear, Roy literally did a death drop. Badum tissssssssss.

FUCK IT TOOK DEAN THE ONLY CHARACTER I CARE ABOUImean I love you too, Sam! Come on, let’s find him before it’s too late!

A trail of M&Ms! Yes, Broseidon! And Hansel and Gretel refercalled it. Sammy, you and I share the same wavelength?

SHITSHITTHEYTRIPPEDANDFELLINTHEFUCKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK

Thank the gods the Pennywise wendigo kept them right there. Chances.

DISCOUNT ENRIQUE IGLESIAS IS STILL ALIVE GEEZ BUT ALSO PHEW

Ah, Dean Winchester, I love you so much that I can’t even begin to describe it.

Also how convenient that the flare guns are there. Deus ex machina!

Haley would bode well as a hunter, look at her courage, her will. There are more hunters around than Daddy Negan and the brothers, right?

Yeah, seeing the actual wendigo makes me less scared of it now. It’s unnerving, but still.

TEAM DEAN YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEHAW

Graphics are...alright, but it’s the thought that counts!

Running with the grizzly bear story. Smart Broseidon. Ben. Sorry, you deserve to be called by your real name. I think with practice they could become good hunters, along with their Discount Enrique Iglesias brother! Is there a fanfiction for that? Can I write it now?

...

I AM WILLING TO DIE TO PROTECT DEAN WINCHESTER I

Haley’s a lesbian, that’s why she kissed him on the cheek only. Headcanoned. Also I have a crush on her, she’s really pretty? Like? Heart eyes???

Ah, the siblings parallels again. Let’s hope neither of the two brothers end up in the bed like that.

“Man, I hate camping.” Really. Really really. Really.

“I’m driving”

...

SAM WINCHESTER I’M SORRY I EVER SPOKE ILL OF YOU I WILL PROTECT YOU WITH MY LIFE TOO I PROMISE YOU I WILL

It’s just a sassy bisexual brother and his little snide bisexual brother on the road to kill evil creatures and find their father and I love this show? Help? Help???

I really, really see the charm of Supernatural now! I’m fully invested in both brothers and their story, and I’m cheering them both on! Let’s get Daddy Negan back and get rid of that man-eating tree once and for all!

Six stars out of five!

⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

This dare is introducing me to a whole new world, and I really, really am glad I took that jump a few days ago, man!

Thank you everyone for reading my ramblings, and I’ll see you in the day after with the next review! Thank you for sticking with me! Buh-bye!

- Xue

[mchalowitz]

the woman is the king, part three

summary: a throughline of the matriarchal scullys; be they ethereal, sharp-witted, and ill-omened.

i’m very excited to finally share this! definitely the most difficult part to write so far and i hope everyone enjoys it!

part 1: melissa / part 2: dana

part 3: emily

read on ao3

@today-in-fic

———

Two years on, sometimes Scully believes she will be able to survive without her other. A forgotten voice travels from immortal nirvana to her brother’s residential line. She wonders if what she tells herself is true. 

1994; the lost year that exists between them. On an evening in March, returning from a field assignment with Mulder, Melissa leaves a message on her answering machine that Scully can still easily recite. 

Things are too hard right now, Dana. I’m safe, I’m with friends in California. I’ll call soon. I love you.

Dana would never have been the golden child. No one surpasses a squid, especially not a fed with some shifty assignment. A shifty fed fares better than a filthy sinner. Charlie wears excommunication with unsweetened pride. And Melissa, the silly new ager, well, she could take no more.

No one thrives at the center of a Scully family scandal. Scully tries to create a rational narrative. It is 1994. Melissa is pregnant; she doesn’t want the baby. She knows plenty of people on the west coast. It was believable. 

Her beloved sister, Dana, is abducted, and in the four weeks she is missing, Melissa gives birth, and the baby is adopted. Dana resurfaces in a hospital; left practically for dead. Her sister returns to stand vigil at her bedside. 

It becomes a question of mindset. Maggie believes Melissa would have told her; Dana disagrees. Subversion of expectations was the ultimate sin for a Scully child as it was a denouncement of the parenting of William and Margaret. She can attest to her mother’s softening on certain expectations since the death of her father. She still disagrees. 

No time for sulking, only pushing through. Working the case through Christmas clearly infuriates Bill. He keeps it to hushed whispers and snide remarks out of Tara’s earshot. Scully often wonders how privy Tara is to anything going on in the Scully family. 

Her infertility stings when she looks at her sister-in-law. With her cancer now in remission, the other medicals horrors Scully faced start coming back to the surface. It is another slap; the thought that her sister gave away such a sweet little girl while she will never carry a child. 

Scully is a mother. She struggles to quantify what Emily is. 

Emily, a living and breathing child, with the face of a Scully, is a violation of her body that someone stole from her, and yet must be fiercely protected. Perhaps Emily is the missing piece. 

Scully hurriedly fills out the application for temporary custody. It consists of the normal, straightforward questions found on any application, until her hand is hovering over that box. Single or married. 

The only thing happening in sunny San Diego is a completely mundane family Christmas, as far as Mulder is aware. Her words froze during her singular phone call. It seems like reaching out now is more of a bombardment than a simple debrief.

Scully is not in a position to presuppose the enigmatic thoughts of Fox Mulder. Yes, it was by his own volition to marry her and she can even believe that Mulder does love her. It is a mutual respect and a fond devotion. It is not spousal love; not a man that loves his wife. 

If she checks the box, Mulder would have to be a father figure to Emily, and it is not her place to make that decision for him. Their marriage was playing house because she was destined to die and Emily does not deserve to be a flour-sack baby in their labyrinthian game. 

Her pen swipes across the paper. Single. 

--

Mulder starts with M. Mmm. Emily tells him so.

Emily leaves the crayons and paper to go to the bookshelf. Mulder is sitting in the chair by the window and she gives him the book. She points to the yellow bird on the cover.

“What’s his name?”

“I think that’s Big Bird,” Mulder tells her. 

Her Daddy only reads her one book at a time, Mulder reads her three. She goes to the bookshelf for more when Dana comes up close to her. “Emily, Mulder and I have to leave now, but we’ll come back tomorrow.” 

Emily looks at Mulder, holding the book, and he says, “I bet you can find a good spot to keep it safe.” 

She nods and sets the book against the bed, fixing it when it slides down. Dana and Mulder leave. A lady makes her pick up her crayons before dinner.

“I’m tired,” she insists, holding the lady’s hand on the way to eat. 

“First dinner, then bed, Emily.”

--

A duality develops in relation to another atrocity to her body. It is a swift punch to the throat; knocking the breath so deeply out of her lungs. It is also as mundane as adding milk to the shopping list; it is only another thing. 

Her brother’s phone line carries mysteries from one location to another. Landline abandoned, traveling well above the speed limit, Mulder drives toward the children’s home. 

“I could have handled it,” she asserts simply. 

“I know.”

Mulder, with his complexity of a hero, and innate ability to act so hoggish. Scully wonders if he really believes that. 

--

Her blanket at home is pink sparkles and has Barbie on the pillows. Emily doesn’t like her new blanket nearly as much. It’s just plain pink.

The lady from dinner tucks her in. “I met Mr. Potato Head,” Emily informs her. 

Emily doesn’t like the other kids in the new place, especially the boy that calls, “That’s not true! Mr. Potato Head isn’t real.” 

“Yes, he is!” she argues. She struggles to sit up with the blanket holding her back. “I met him and he looks like this!” She puffs out her cheeks, making the same face. 

“That must have been very exciting, Emily,” the lady adds softly, tucking her in again. 

The lights turn off. Emily closes her eyes. She feels cold. 

--

In the work Mulder does with Scully, it is often based more on speculation than he would ever like to admit to anyone. It disgusts him to know that if Emily were any other file in his cabinet, it would bring him joy to map out theories and spar with his partner over them. With the empty coffin staring back at them, Mulder can easily assume a thought is something neither of them want to enter their minds ever again. No hypothesizing to be done here. 

Following the funeral, the San Diego bureau fares slightly kinder than their city’s court system. Their California contact, while deeply apologetic for the tragedy that has occurred here, informs them the field office won’t be actively pursuing the case. Aside from following up on a few leads pertaining to the deaths of Roberta and Marshall Sim, it will likely be deemed a cold case. 

“I’m very sorry, Agent Scully,” the agent says, padding his final blow. Emily’s case will not be investigated either. Both Mulder and Scully understand the algorithm that goes into the decision of pursuing an investigation. If the case fell into the FBI mainstream, Emily’s chronic health issues, use of experimental treatments, and her parents’ full cognizance to the risks wouldn’t stand a chance against the process. 

And if there was anything to investigate, it has already been destroyed by powers far outside the reach of some dinky field office anyway. Whatever the reasoning may be, another Scully woman is still failed by the United States government. 

Scully wants the first flight out of San Diego back to Washington and he is more than quick to oblige her. While she very clearly loves the new addition to her family, the sting is just as obvious. 

Two hours down in the air, three more to go, and they have barely said a word to each other since take-off. Scully’s head is turned toward the window when he reaches for her hand. “Scully,” he speaks, very quietly. 

“No,” she responds with a shake of her head, her voice tight. 

Another long stretch of silence and Mulder thinks she maybe falls asleep, which would be a welcome cause for silence, because he isn’t convinced she’s slept more than an hour or two in days. He is about to request a blanket when her forehead presses into his shoulder and the contact reveals her body shaking with the exertion of holding everything inside yet again. 

It’s his fierce need to protect her always that causes him to envelope her body with his. Her arms wind tightly around his neck. Her attempts to muffle her sobs in his jacket is only partially successful. 

A flight attendant taps him on the shoulder and asks him, “Is everything alright?” 

“Everything’s fine,” Mulder blatantly lies. “But maybe we could get a glass of water for my wife.” 

It's a rare euphoria to speak those words; his wife. Dana Scully is his wife. A mostly unmentioned fact that gives him a childishly nervous feeling in his stomach. While it never retreated in his mind, it appears to be returning to the forefront of hers. 

In the winding process of applying for custody, a second application exists. Scully’s final plea to unite her with her own flesh and blood. Another document that states definitively that they are married. Mulder underwent a grilling from the judge; a practical bullying on the semantics of their marriage. 

One’s subconscious works powerfully, in his experience, and when he sat in this same position on Scully’s couch six months ago, the answer came to him so clearly. It wasn’t only for her benefit as a life experience that everyone should have the opportunity to have if they so choose; cancer only sped up the timeline of an inevitably. Mulder has never taken a mightier leap with her and she accepted. A singular score for Fox Mulder. 

It’s treated as though it never even existed; his presence in that way completely reverted. He wishes he had more of a chance to prove himself worthy. He wishes he was a less of pussy to actually do it. He will, he’s going to. If she is ever willing to forgive him for all of his transgressions. 

Mulder carried the knowledge of her ova and of what was likely (and now, very clearly) done with it with a heaviness that rivaled the many other weights he lugs around inside him. Scully’s hope for recovery was dwindling then and it was only another way to hurt her. 

It felt criminal to hijack her happiness when she went into remission and her bliss honestly fed his soul. Now, he only piles onto her pain. And if he was any kind of man, if he was someone deserving of someday being a person she would maybe, eventually, love for real, he would have been a lot fucking better. 

The flight attendant delivers a glass of water and a box of tissues on a plastic tray. He takes both and offers the glass to Scully. She scoots forward to the edge of her seat, her back straightened, and it reminds him of Bellefleur, and of that young agent in her red robe, and the fear of simple bug bites. It was the moment of cosmiticity bursting into existence between them. 

Scully sips water, wiping her cheeks with the back of her hand. His eyes never leave her for the rest of the flight. He drives her home under the glow of streetlights. 

“I can keep you company, if you want,” he offers after insisting he carry her suitcase inside for her. “Might even be able to catch a replay of the Rose Bowl if we’re lucky.”

“That won’t be necessary,” she replies. One hand holds the door and the other is braced on the frame; a universal sign to get lost told through her body language. “I’m going to take a few days. I already let Skinner know.” 

“I’ll call you tomorrow.”

“Okay,” she agrees. “Goodnight, Mulder.” 

“Goodnight, Scully.” 

Once the door is shut, he hears the lock click into place. It pains him to walk away. 

Mulder calls Scully in the morning as promised. He calls every morning after. It just rings and rings. 

--

No one is expecting her back in the office until Monday, but by Thursday it becomes increasingly clear that a return to normalcy is what she requires. Scully can only stare at California girls immortalized by ages in threes on her mantel for so long. 

She trades in her bathrobe for a beige skirt with matching jacket and she slugs down the last of a cup of coffee while she packs her briefcase. The landline rings in its cradle next to her hand. Her stockinged feet slide against the kitchen tile as she turns to answer.

“Hello?”

An unfamiliar female voice carries cheerily into her ear. “Hi there, this is Amanda over at Liberty Fertility Center. I’m looking for Fox Mulder?” 

"This is...” Scully starts, and then she pauses, staring up at the ceiling before answering with a restrained sigh. “This is his wife.” 

“I’m following up on a call we received from your husband earlier this week about a sample being stored at our facility and possible ova analysis. He left this as the call back number.” 

Scully clicks her tongue against her teeth, nodding slowly. She barely focuses on the conversation and when it ends, she retrieves the phone book, slamming it down on the table in place of her briefcase. She dials the first promising number in the correct category. 

Heat overtakes her melancholy. Scully is so, so tired of Mulder blanketing his wrongdoings under the guise of protecting her. It has always, ultimately, been her choice to walk alongside him; it was his choice to marry her. He still fills their partnership, their marriage, with secrets. He still withholds. 

She can only imagine what is being done to her ova sitting in some facility.  Mulder didn’t even have the decency to tell her any even remained.

Scully arrives at the office on Friday and Mulder is immersed in a sea of paperwork and photographs. It is only eight in the morning and he already has his jacket slung over the back of his chair, his sleeves rolled up over his forearms. 

“Hey, I wasn’t expecting you until Monday,” he grins with surprised delight. 

Mulder follows her with his eyes as she steps up to his desk. She leans down, kissing him soundly on the mouth, and she observes his dreamy stare when they part.

“I need my ova, Mulder,” she states. Scully pulls a business card out of her pocket; the law firm she called the morning before. “And I want a divorce.” 

[bigfootwrites]

A Jewel Beneath The Moonlight [Reposted Anniversary]

One

Two

Three

Four

Five

AO3

@today-in-fic @mypanicface @improlificinsarcasm @enigmaticxbee Please let me know if you’d like to be tagged in this

- - - 

CHAPTER SIX

Embarrassed, anger swirling through her, Scully storms out of the pool, throwing open the doors on her way out. She ignores the looks she gets for her actions, for the way the doors bounce off the walls and startle a woman nearby. She doesn’t care, she just needs to get far enough away from Mulder and all things first class. She barely acknowledges the crewman passing who barks at her to get back to her own deck, Scully gladly goes, climbing over the now locked gate.

She’s done. Done with all of it; the dinners, the people, Mulder. He can live in his sad fake world with his sad fake fiancé. In a few days time, she’ll get off this boat and never the two shall meet again.

His words still ring in her ears. His words, his father’s words, whoever’s words- she doesn’t care, they’re all the same- the same closed minded people who don’t give a shit about anything other than themselves.

But Mulder wasn’t.

She pushes that thought away, ignoring the truth and forcing herself to mould Mulder to be like everyone else. If he did care about her he wouldn’t be worried about what his father thinks.

Why did it always have to come down to what father’s thought of their children?

She finds herself in the galley before she realises, a room completely crowded with people doing nothing with their lives and it angers Scully even more, this whole ship does, every person on it. She’s sick of crowded rooms, of seeing the same people every day.

The novelty of things wears off eventually.

She spies Charlie in the corner, happy, laughing with a group of boys he’s befriended. This journey had given him the freedom to just be a kid, to not have to worry about finding a job or the constant response of “No, you can’t work here”, “No, we haven’t got any jobs free for you”, “No, you need more experience”. He hadn’t won much in the terms of a job, either.

Seeing him now, Scully is envious. Despite the hardships, he was still free to be a child, they could go home and Ma wouldn’t push him to find a job and here, he could laugh with as many people as he wanted, hopelessly flirt with as many girls as he wanted and there would be no consequences, no rules or hearts broken because of a stupid mistake.

Not in the mood for company, Scully leaves the galley, about to head into her room and shut the world away for the rest of the trip before a familiar little voice stops her.

“Dana!”

Scully turns to see a little girl, blonde curls bouncing behind her, bound towards her.

A smile passes across Scully’s face at the presence of Agnes, momentarily forgetting her sadness and anger, she kneels to the girl’s height.

“Hello,” Scully says. “Are you feeling better now?”

Agnes nods her head, her blue eyes bright and cheeks rosy with colour, so much better than the day before.

“You helped me be better,” the girl says. In her hands she holds a brown box and extends it forward towards Scully. “I wanted to give this to you, to say tack sjalv…That means thank you in Swedish.”

Scully takes the box from Agnes, her thumbs slipping under the lid and opening it. A dancer dressed in traditional Swedish clothing appears spinning around as music plays from the box.

A music box.

Scully smiles, warmed by the girl’s gesture of thank you. She looks from the music box to Agnes, the girl’s smile radiating happiness, proud of her gift.

“Are you sure?” Scully asks, thankful for the gift but also having first-hand knowledge that they didn’t carry much and what they did carry was something extremely special to them.

Agnes nods. “It was Mama’s but Papa said we couldn’t keep it anymore, it’s too much space.” Her smile falters at that and Scully knows that it was either to be given away or sold to a stranger.

“I’ll take it Agnes,” says Scully and the girl instantly cheers up. “I’ll look after it and won’t let anything happen to it.”

Agnes happily nods and gives Scully and hug before running off back down the corridor.

The music box in one hand, Scully opens the door and sets the box on the table, a wee bit happier than she was before.

 It’s strange how yesterday she was sat in a great big hall surrounded by shallow-minded people, eating food she could barely pronounce and today she is sat on the end of the bench eating mash and beef.

Well, eating being the desired action, she more than just picks at it.

She should probably eat it. All those times when she was younger, when she just wished there had been a slice of bread in the house remind her that she should eat food when she can, and eat all of it because who knows when the next one would be?

Her mood had lightened up with Agnes’ present but it hadn’t taken long for it to fall back down when she was alone. Maybe isolating herself wasn’t the best idea.

She can’t decide why this whole Mulder thing had gotten to her so. A similar thing had happened before, Scully had got in too deep with someone she shouldn’t and they had left her standing at a train station all night, never showing up themselves.

Whilst it had hurt to be humiliated, to walk back home with her tail tucked between her legs, she’d gotten over that situation fairly quickly and she’d done more than just dance with the man.

Scully tries not to think about the reasons, she was supposed to be blocking Mulder from her mind anyway, no dwelling on him.

“Decided dinner with your own kind is better then?”

Scully looks up to find Charlie opposite her, a smile plastered across his face from his ‘joke’. Sure, hilarious.

He sits down on the bench across from her. “I found your wee English fella before,” he tells her. “Well, he found me actually, jumped over the gate and all,” Charlie finishes with a smile at the memory.

Scully just frowns, why would a man who told her mere hours ago that he wanted nothing more to do with her go out of his way to talk to her younger brother?

“What did he want?”

“He just asked if I’d seen you, which I replied I hadn’t since the party and whatever glimpse I’d gotten of you before you ran out this morning.”

“I was with Agnes.”

Really, Scully doubts she’d spent no more than ten minutes with the lass but she wasn’t about to admit to her brother than she’d been lying in her bed depressed all day.

“Anyway, he said if I saw you to tell you to meet him by the mass at dinner time, he’ll be there.”

Scully thinks for a moment, calming the butterflies that fly in her stomach. Just what was Mulder playing at?

“He also said that you didn’t have to go if you didn’t want to, but something told him you will.” Charlie frowns, staring at her for a moment and Scully feels incredibly awkward.

“What happened between you two? You were getting along at that party last night.” His frown chances into a sly, knowing smile.

Emboldened, Scully pushes her bowl out of the way, leaning forward so her face was mere inches away from her brother’s.

“You can wipe that smile off ye face cause ye don’t know anything.”

She pushes herself away, standing up from the bench.

“You’re gonna go?” Charlie asks, leaning back also.

Scully nods.

“Can I have your food?”

Without a word, she pushes the bowl in Charlie’s direction. Curiosity and nerves blooming, she disappears off to find out what games Mulder wants to play.

 A chilly breeze blows across the deck, the sun almost setting in the distance. It looks beautiful, the orange and purples that paint the sky. It’s clear, the islands just off in distance visible. There’s no one out, every one off in the halls eating dinner, a perfect time Mulder chose.

Scully sees him near the mass just like he said, hunched over and leaning against the rails. At first she thought he’d be sitting on them, not unlike their first meeting. Despite her confusion, her curiosity, and the slight annoyance at his ever changing mind, she smiles at the memory.

“Are you always so moody, then?”

At the sound of her voice he turns, almost surprised to see her there.

“You came?” he asks.

Scully nods, “I did. I almost had second thoughts leaving the dinner hall but I thought I’d give you the benefit of the doubt.” She walks closer to him then, shivering in the slight chill, a mischievous smile flittering across her face. “So long as I’m not distracting you,” she almost whispers.

And while she smiles he does not, instead pain and regret etched on his face as he looks down at his feet.

“I shouldn’t have said that,” he apologises. “I just…I feel bad for everyone involved in this, even Phoebe, she…she’s a lot but she doesn’t really deserve this.”

There’s a moment when Scully wonders if they’ll ever be able to have a conversation that doesn’t include Phoebe’s name in it but she thinks back to Mulder’s earlier words, how their relationship was complicated, so no, she doubts they ever will.

“What are you trying to say, Mulder?”

He looks up at her then, almost shy. “I guess I’m trying to say that I want to do this. You and me. Us. If that’s what you want?”

Is it? Her anger at him casting her aside, at choosing his family over her, they weren’t friendly feelings. The need to see him today, the speak to him and spend time with him, that went beyond friendship, too. She’s known him less than three days and even in that short time span she can’t think of the moment when they overstepped the friends line.

She doesn’t think he knows either.

“You tried to kiss me when I walked you to the gate yesterday. Did you mean it?”

“I did,” he admits. “I wanted to but you stopped me so I thought maybe you didn’t and then…then before you said we were just friends so why the change?”

“Because you pissed me off,” she tells him, if they’re going to tell the truth they may as well both be truthful. “Because your father is right, I am a distraction.” She walks that little bit closer, now only a foot or so away from them both being in each other’s personal space.

“Does that bother you?”

Scully thinks about that. ‘Distraction’ maybe isn’t the nicest word to use for someone but in this moment she doesn’t care what some little person who seems as far away as the islands around them are, thinks she is.

“No,” she finally answers.

Mulder smiles and slowly outstretches his hand towards her.

“I want to show you something, Distraction.”

Scully smiles at the little nickname and takes his hand. Mulder leads her to the rails, places her where he was just standing.

“Step up onto the rails,”

Scully looks at him cautiously. “What? Are you planning on us both jumping off together or something?”

Mulder ignores her joke. “Just do it,” he says softly.

Grasping the heaviness of the situation she does as she’s told, stepping up on the first rail. She lets go of his hand to grasp hold of the mass, holding onto it for dear life as her feet wobble on the rail. With both of Mulder’s hands freed, she feels him take hold of her waist, holding her in place and instantly she feels a bit more secured.

“Are you sure we won’t get into trouble for this?” Scully asks, suddenly feeling cautious about any eyes that could be watching them.

“Why would we?” Mulder asks, incredibly close to her ear. “We’re not doing anything wrong.”

Correction: this whole step they’re taking is incredibly wrong but Scully decides not to dwell on that, instead basking it in, in the thrill of doing something that she shouldn’t be once more.

“So what am I supposed to be seeing?” she asks, turning towards him.

“Hang on a second.” He takes one of his hands off her side and uses it to cling onto the hand-rail, pulling himself up onto the bottom rail Scully stands on. She can feel every inch of his warm body pressed up against her, and still in her light and playful mood, she pretends to adjust herself so her entire body brushes against his. In response, the hand holding onto her clutches her tighter.

“Stop it,” he tells her, less lightly than before and Scully stops, allowing herself to just lean about into him.

“Look down at the water,” he tells her and she does so.

At first there’s nothing, just the waves caused by the ship as it ploughs on to their destination but then she sees it, a little speck of grey that appears in the air and disappears again. And another one. And a third.

“I see it!” she shouts, as three dolphins jump in and out of the water one after the other.

A smile passes across her face in happiness and delight, watching the creatures appear and disappear. This is what he wanted to show her and it doesn’t matter that she’s seen dolphins before, doesn’t bother her that it isn’t something more special, this is enough, just watching them jump in and out of the water, the cold chill of the wind against the front but the warmth of Mulder behind her, it’s all she can ask for. Slowly, everything fades away; the presence of people tucked behind walls, the view around her and the sun that continues setting in the distance, the ship, and its rails that she stands on and finally even Mulder disappears. Her eyes close and she’s warm and happy, free of all worries and stress. There’s no start or destination, it’s just her and the wind and the warmth.

Her surroundings come back soon, Mulder being the first thing to return to her. Scully opens her eyes again and looks down to the sea, the dolphins having gone. The spell broken and she misses their presence.

Weightless and carefree, she turns around in Mulder’s arms, taking her cold hands away from the mass and rail and presses them against Mulder’s warm chest, warming them up.

“Happy?” he asks quietly.

Scully nods. She looks up from her hands to find Mulder’s face inches away from hers. There’s a bit of a height difference between them like this and she steps onto her tip toes, clutching onto to Mulder to hold onto to as she presses her lips against his, once again her surroundings floating away around her.

She’s glad this is their first kiss. The one on the way to the gate would have been drunk and rough but this is sweet and perfect and much, much nicer.

It doesn’t go beyond that, as much as she wants it to be further it’s fine as it is, there’s more time for that later, anyway.

She pulls away, eyeing him nervously but something else catches his eyes. Frowning, his hands climb to her neck, slipping inside her collar to pull out her cross.

She looks at it from where he holds it between them.

“My mammy gave me it,” Scully explains. “My older brother tried to sell it one time but I didn’t let him. Instead I hid it and told everyone I lost it, until it was time to leave and I started wearing it again.” She unclasps it, handing it to Mulder to look at it. “I don’t know why I wouldn’t let them have it,” she wonders almost to herself.

“It’s yours. It means something to you.” She watches as he runs his thumb over the slim lines of the cross.

“I guess,” Scully agrees, staring at it. “It would have fed us, though.”

She watches him continue staring at it and it’s almost like he’s disappeared inside himself, frowning and thinking as he continues to stroke and hold the necklace.

He looks to her, his eyes searching hers and an almost pleading look on his face.

“You can say no,” he begins, before stopping to swallow nervously. Scully waits, interested in what he’s about to ask her. “Can…can I draw you wearing this?” She’s about to answer with a yes before he cuts her off. “Just wearing this?”

[admiralty-xfd]

I wonder what is Bill's opinion about Scully's runaway with Mulder and then living with him. Ohhh and what he thinks about William

Hi, anon! I don’t think he liked it very much. At all. I’ve written a scene post-IWTB where I tackle this and I’ll include it here for your reading pleasure. (Source: This Woman’s Work). 

It rarely snowed this time of year in DC, but as Scully looked out the front window of her mother’s house she could see it beginning. A white Christmas, in spite of everything. It felt like a sign of something hopeful.

Mulder came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her. “Your mom says dinner is ready,” he said into her ear. She had no intention of moving an inch, and he stood there with her, both of them just watching the first few flakes begin to fall.

“We haven’t had a white Christmas in twenty years,” Scully observed.

“Really? Is this Fun Weather Facts with Dr. Scully?” Mulder chuckled.

She gently elbowed him in the chest. “It’s true. My mom and I were talking about it earlier. Seems so right that it would happen this year. It’s like a fresh start for us.”

She took his hand and held it close to her heart, closing her eyes and taking it all in. They were free, and safe. The FBI wasn’t after him anymore. He’d proposed to her in the Maldives. They married shortly after.

He was her husband now. Mulder.

���I just want to enjoy this,” she told him. “Everything feels perfect right now.”

“It really does,” he agreed. “It’s a nice change.” He leaned around to kiss her temple.

“Is Bill behaving himself?” she ventured, not really wanting to know the answer. She felt him shrug.

“He’s Bill. He hates me.”

She laughed. “Tara and Matty like you. My mom likes you.” She turned around in his arms and kissed him softly, slowly. “I like you.”

“Matty only likes me because of the Sasquatch.”

Scully smiled. Mulder had picked out the stuffed animal and it had ended up being her nephew’s favorite present, much to Bill Jr.’s annoyance.

“Kids are easy,” he continued. “Big brothers are impossible.”

She didn’t say anything, cognizant that Mulder must be thinking about Samantha. She knew Mulder put up with Bill’s nonsense as best as he could, but it still irked her. It probably always would.

“Shall we?” he offered his arm and she took it.

Maggie settled everyone into their seats and dinner began. After a couple courses, the topic of Mulder and Scully’s engagement came up. It had been a long time since they’d seen Bill’s family, and hadn’t had the chance to talk about it with them yet.

“So, Fox- I mean, Mulder,” Tara corrected herself. “Maggie mentioned you said you’d asked Dana several times before she said yes. How’d you finally do it?”

“Well, she was just waiting for the right moment, I think,” he smiled. “I’m sure she knew deep down I wouldn’t take no for an answer.”

Maggie and Tara laughed. Bill cleared his throat loudly and looked at his plate, not making eye contact with anyone.

“Anyway, we were in the Maldives. I had promised to take her somewhere… far away. We haven’t really had a chance to go on vacation before.”

“Hmph.” Bill snorted. “Wonder why that was?”

Scully glared at him. Mulder politely ignored him, or at least tried to, as he usually did, and continued with the story.

“We wanted to find a place that was as far away from… well, here, as we could get. We took a globe and found the spot that came as close to matching that description as we could and we both said ‘that’s the place.’”

She put her hand on his thigh underneath the table. As far away from the darkness as they could get. He’d delivered on that promise, in full.

“We were just lying there on the beach and I knew it was time,” he said, and looked over at her. They rarely had the opportunity to be affectionate with one another around other people. It was unusual, but to Scully, it felt good. “I was right, too, because she said yes.”

“I didn’t say yes,” Scully shook her head and sipped her wine. “I believe what I actually said was ‘okay.’”

Maggie and Tara laughed again, and Mulder nodded, conceding that point.

“Okay, true. But you still ended up marrying me, so the joke’s on you, Scully.” He grinned at her and she smiled back. “We went down to the courthouse as soon as we got home.”

“So... you two kind of had your honeymoon before your wedding,” Tara pointed out.

“We did everything else backwards, so we figured why break with tradition?” Mulder replied.

He winked at Scully and all she could do was gaze at him; her partner Mulder, who, against every possible likely outcome was somehow now her husband, here in her mother’s house on Christmas. Mulder as a husband was something she’d never really pictured and now here he was, a reality.

“This is so wonderful,” Maggie said, clasping her hands together. “I’m so happy you and your family were able to make it up from San Diego this year, Bill. What an amazing gift to have you all here, and now that both Dana and Fox are in the mix again it truly feels like a real family gathering for the first time in a long time.”

She put her hand on Matthew’s head and ruffled his hair. “And having my grandson here is just icing on the cake!”

Bill piped up again. “Would have had one more around the table, too, if things had gone differently.”

The room went dead silent. A chill ran up Scully’s spine. Her body tensed, and Mulder noticed. His hand immediately went to hers underneath the table and held it tight. She couldn't speak, couldn't breathe. But Mulder could.

“What did you say?” he challenged.

“I think you heard me,” Bill replied. His face looked so goddamn smug Scully wondered if he actually got some kind of sick pleasure out of hurting her this way.

She knew Bill's comment was less about William and more about Mulder. She was so tired of this endless one-way battle her brother had waged against Mulder since the day he met him. He had endured Bill’s bullshit with dignity for years. She’d always assumed Mulder was just trying to keep the peace and she was grateful for that; most of the time he’d been in attendance as her partner, or as her friend. She knew it must have been awkward for him.

But now, however, it seemed to Scully like he’d had enough. Maybe it was the freeing knowledge that she was now his wife; their relationship had never been so clearly defined within the walls of the Scully home. Or maybe it was because Bill’s snide comment had been about William, the most painful topic he could possibly have dredged up.

More than likely, it was just that smug fucking expression on Bill’s face that did it. For the first time ever, it seemed Mulder wasn't going to let Bill get away with his behavior.

“What’s your problem, Bill? Why would you say something like that?” Mulder asked.

Bill shrugged. “I’m just calling it like I see it.”

Mulder looked him dead in the eyes. “Well, the way I see it is you’re an asshole. Why would you want to hurt your sister like that? And on Christmas? What the hell is wrong with you?”

Scully could see her mother tense up out of the corner of her eye. Tara put her fork down and corralled Matthew out of the dining room, knowing this wasn’t leading anywhere child-friendly.

“You’ve given me a hard time for years," Mulder continued. "I’ve stayed quiet because to be honest, I think I’ve deserved a lot of it. But Dana doesn’t deserve this vitriol, not from you.”

Bill was clearly in the mood for a fight. “She had to give away her own kid. Because of you. All of it is because of you.”

Scully had tried to explain her decision regarding William to Bill, she really had. Nowhere in her explanation had Mulder’s name even come up. It didn’t matter to her brother, maybe it never would. He’d never accept Mulder into their family, not ever.

“It was a very difficult time, for both of us-” Mulder began to explain.

“Why are you still here? Hanging around with my sister? You don’t work together anymore. She’s paid her dues with you, more than paid them. What more can you possibly want from her?”

Mulder stood up then, and glared at his brother-in-law. Scully didn’t want this to escalate any further. She reached for his hand and pulled softly.

“It’s okay, Mulder. Just leave it.”

“No,” he said. “It’s not okay. It’s not okay at all.” He turned his attention back to Bill. “I don’t want anything from your sister. Why is she still with me? Because I asked her to be with me and she said yes. I don’t feel like I should have to tell you this, Bill, but you should support your sister when she’s in pain, not make it worse.”

The air was as tense as Scully had ever felt it, and there had been many a tense evening in this house.

“My sister was taken from me when I was just a kid. Not a day goes by when I don’t think about her, and wish I could have her back for just one more day,” Mulder revealed. He’d never talked about Samantha to her family before. She was fairly sure they knew, but him bringing it up made it more real.

Bill had the good grace to appear chastised, at least for the moment.

“I know you lost a sister too, Bill. Believe me. I don’t want you to lose another one.”

Scully pulled on his hand again and he sat.

“Bill, enough is enough. This has to stop,” her mother finally spoke. “Fox isn’t going anywhere, and as long as you’re in my house I’d ask you to show him the same respect you’d give any member of our family.”

Bill looked at his mother, silently stood up, threw his napkin on the table and left the room. Everyone listened as he grabbed his coat and his keys and waited for the door to slam. Tara spoke first, having left Matthew in the other room with his Legos.

“I’m so sorry about him. I don’t know why he won’t just let all this go.”

Mulder shook his head. “No, I’m sorry for causing drama every time I come over. I wish I could set it all right again.”

Maggie turned to Mulder. “Fox, you are as much a part of this family as Bill is. You have every right to be here. And you have nothing to apologize for.”

Mulder smiled at her and Scully squeezed his hand in reassurance.

“Thanks, Mrs. Scully.”

“And we’ve known each other for a long time. I think of you as my own son. If you’re comfortable, I’d like it if you called me Maggie, okay?”

Scully felt Mulder twitch involuntarily, sensing the enormity of the moment. He appeared touched. Perhaps it was because he’d lost his own mother years ago. Perhaps it was because Maggie had stood up for him the way she did. Maybe it was only because it was Christmas. But what Mulder said next surprised her.

“Thanks, Mom,” he smiled.

Maggie smiled back, tears in her eyes. Scully felt like the watch they’d bought her for Christmas no longer mattered; this was the gift she’d really wanted.

***

“I don’t think you’ve ever been upstairs in my mom’s house, have you, Mulder?”

“No, I don’t think I have,” he said.

She led him down the hallway. “We moved here from Annapolis just after high school,” she explained. “I lived here while I was at UMD.”

She pushed one of the bedroom doors open. “We’re staying in here.”

She gave him a mischievous grin and pulled him inside. The bedroom door closed and Mulder pushed her back against it. Their lips met and he took her hands in his, moving them up above her head and holding them there.

“Are you telling me young college coed Dana Katherine Scully used to sleep in this room?”

“Not this room,” she mumbled into his mouth. “This was where Bill stayed, actually.”

He pulled back, his face already flushed, and gave her that look that made her feel her heart beating throughout her entire body. “Oh, is that so?”

Scully nodded, licking her lips. Her mother had turned this room into a guest room long ago, but the information seemed pertinent at the moment.

She closed her eyes and shuddered as his mouth moved to her earlobe and whispered softly. “I think I know a great way to stick it to him, Scully.”

“What, you want to have sex in my brother’s old room?”

“I was going to suggest sugar in his gas tank but your idea sounds more fun.”

She smiled and he released her hands, reached under her backside and lifted her up into him, pushing her backwards so she was wedged between him and the door. She wrapped her legs around his waist and he kissed her again, his tongue moving against hers in a rhythm they both knew by heart. God, he was so good at this. So good. They’d honed and perfected this particular dance so well he knew every little thing she wanted, responded to every urge she had whether she asked or not. He’d made it a personal quest of his over the past few years. It was times like these she stopped being annoyed by his obsessive nature and just fucking loved him for it.

He walked backwards to the bed, with her still wrapped around him, and sat down on the edge. Her hands were gripping his hair and she was practically mauling his face. Thinking about how he’d finally given Bill a taste of his own medicine and how he’d done it all for her got her incredibly turned on. She’d be lying if she didn’t admit she’d gotten a little thrill when he’d referred to her as Dana, too. It rarely happened.

“I’ve never had sex in this house before,” she breathed into his ear. “Are you sure you don’t want to go to my old bedroom instead?”

He shook his head. “Defiling your brother’s old bed sounds more fun, doesn’t it?” He started to unzip the back of her dress and she shifted her body to better sit in his lap, pulling the dress up around her waist.

“I don't actually think this is his, I’m pretty sure my mom replaced it at some point.”

“Hmm. Oddly enough, I am undeterred. We can do it in your bedroom next Christmas.”

“Thanksgiving is sooner,” she smiled as his lips captured hers again. For a few minutes they made out like teenagers and she reveled in how good it still felt to do that. Maybe it was because they’d denied themselves this physical affection for so many years, but even the foreplay was always a wonderful journey for them. And it always built to something even more amazing than before. It seemed like each and every time was better than the last. They’d certainly been blessed in that regard, she thought, as his hands slipped inside the back of her dress, exploring.

She wanted to focus on his touch but the conflict downstairs was still on her mind. “He’s such a fucking asshole, Mulder,” she said between kisses. “Why do you put up with that? Why would you even come here with me?”

His eyes softened and he leaned back to look at her. “Because your mom invited me.” He kissed her again behind her ear. “I have a soft spot for you Scully women.”

“You know what would be really scandalous?” she offered. It was something she’d always wanted to try during sex, and they never had. She could hardly believe it, now that she thought about it.

“You mean, besides what we’re already doing right now? Lay it on me.” He started to pull her dress down over her shoulders, kissing them as he did so.

“Well, we’re in my mother’s house, in my brother’s old room, on Christmas, and my family is downstairs.”

“Exactly,” he murmured into her hair. “That’s varsity-level, Scully. What could be more scandalous?”

She put her hands on either side of his face and held his forehead to hers. She kissed him purposefully, then whispered it into his ear.

“Call me Dana.”

He pulled away, looking at her, and raised an eyebrow. “That is scandalous.” He tucked a strand of her long hair behind her ear and grinned. “Have you been holding out on me? Is this some deep, dark fantasy you’ve never told me about?”

“No, actually,” she said, blushing a bit. “Honestly I always thought it might be weird. But I’m curious.”

“Now I am, too,” he admitted. He slipped a finger underneath her bra strap and gently pulled and released, snapping it. His voice dropped an octave. “Okay. Dana.”

Something fluttered deep inside her. It was a strange sensation, which she could identify as arousal but there was something else. They were already as close a pair as could possibly exist, she knew this. But something about doing something new that involved her given name made her feel like they’d taken a step even closer to each other. That alone was a huge turn on.

Who was she kidding? Anything that came out of his mouth was a turn on, especially during sex.

She wanted to laugh that something so ordinary like being called by her first name could be so scandalous. She closed her eyes and enjoyed this odd feeling of being normal with Mulder. Suddenly she wanted to get a step even closer. She didn’t know what he would think but from the state of his own arousal which she could feel beneath her, she figured the odds were good he wouldn’t deny her anything at the moment.

"Can I call you Fox?”

He closed his eyes, considering it. “Just this once,” she clarified. “Just tonight.” She ran her fingers through his hair, and then leaned in and bit his lower lip to sweeten the deal.

He was quiet for a second, then: “You can call me whatever the hell you want, as long as you keep doing that.”

She laughed and he laughed and it was one of those perfect moments she knew she’d always remember, in spite of the dust up with Bill, and in spite of everything else they’d been through. Right now, with him, she was perfectly happy.

“I love you,” he said. It was as if he knew just then this was an important moment for them, too.

“I love you too, Mulder,” she whispered. Then she grabbed him by the sides of his face and looked him directly in the eye, smiling mischeviously. “Now fuck me in my brother’s old room.”

“Whatever you say, Dana,” he grinned as she pushed him backwards onto the bed.

***

She awoke with his arms around her. It was just after midnight. It occurred to her that, other than the Maldives, it had been years since she’d woken up in a bed that wasn’t their own.

It smelled like home in here, and she smiled. It was a happy memory, and combining the scent with the feel of Mulder’s arms surrounding her made her even happier.

Suddenly thirsty, she slipped out of his arms quietly and threw on her robe to go downstairs.

As she got to the bottom of the stairs she stood looking at the tree for a bit, remembering Christmases past, so many happy memories from back when things were simple.

She thought about her father, but mostly she missed Melissa. She smiled, thinking of a conversation they’d had long ago about Mulder. It made her feel a twinge of sadness that Missy wasn’t here now, to see how right she’d been about the two of them. To laugh with them and be an ally in the face of all of Bill’s nonsense.

Just then she noticed Bill, through the window, sitting on the porch. She wondered how long he’d been out there in the cold.

She threw on her mother’s overcoat, hanging by the front door, and went out to sit with him. It was freezing outside, and Scully shivered and wondered how quickly she’d regret this decision.

“Have you been out here the whole time?” she asked him.

Bill puffed on a cigar. “No. Drove around a bit. Went to Spanky’s for a drink.”

“It was open? On Christmas?”

“You’d be surprised,” he said, staring straight ahead.

She wasn’t out here to make small talk. She wanted them to be okay. This all seemed so silly. They were family, after all.

Bill shook his head, staring straight forward. “I just don’t get it, Dana. What is it about that guy? What do you see in him? What could possibly make all this worth it?”

Scully wanted him to understand. What could she possibly say that could make him okay with all this? She could think of only one thing to say, something she’d never had the confidence to say to him before.

“We love each other,” she said, as she tilted her head to look at him. Bill still didn’t turn, and just sighed.

After a couple minutes of silence, the chill in the air started to get to her. “We don’t get many chances in life to do the right thing," she said to him. "We can try, but there just isn’t enough time.” He still wouldn’t face her.

“Look at me, Bill,” she said. He finally did. “This is it. We are all we have. Dad is gone, Melissa is gone. William is gone. Charlie is… who knows where.” Tears started to form in her eyes. “You, me, Mom. That’s it.”

He kept looking at her but still said nothing.

“And Mulder didn’t give up our child, Bill. It was my decision. If you want to hate someone, if you want to blame someone, make it me.”

“I shouldn’t have said that. I’m sorry I did.”

She could see his eyes starting to soften and wondered if something had gotten through.

“I was angry when Melissa was killed,” he admitted. “I wanted to blame someone, and I didn’t want it to be you. So I blamed him. Then everything that happened to you… I feel like so much changed. He’s the cause. He’s the cause of all of it.”

“Bill, you have to know Mulder didn’t ask for any of this. Especially what happened to me, and our sister. He’s lost more than you know.”

“I do know that, Dana. But you deserve better than him.”

Scully wondered if that were true. She came to the conclusion instantly that even if it were, it wouldn’t matter. “You don’t have to worry about me, you know. I’m happy. He makes me happy.”

She knew he’d never approve of Mulder, she’d never get him there. But if they could get to a place where they could have some peace, she’d be content with that.

“You once said to me we have a responsibility not only to ourselves but to the people in our lives,” she continued. “You may not like it, but he’s in my life too. He is a person in my life. And I have a responsibility to him.”

He said nothing more. Things may never get to where she wanted them; there was too much anger there, too much animosity. But she’d said what she’d needed to say.

She sighed and got up. “It’s cold, I’m going inside.” He turned away again to look out at the street. As she reached the door she turned back to look at him and was struck by how much he looked like her father, sitting in his chair, smoking a cigar.

She smiled at the memory. Then she opened the door and went inside where it was warm, where Mulder’s arms would be waiting for her.

Two months later, Bill and his family were stationed in Germany. They rarely crossed paths again.

[gaycrouton]

I love your writing! Any chance will do more of Mulder sex therapist?

HELL YEAH MY DUDE!! I’ve been saving this ask for so long, but here we go!! I will update this story every time there is a new season of Sex Education. So lets all hope I have a chance to write more! As always, thank you to @admiralty-xfd for the beta!

Here’s the link to chapter one

For the first time in seven years, Dana Scully had no idea where her vibrator was. The pink, compact friend that had been tucked in an easy-to-reach location at all times, all over the U.S, was missing. 

And she didn’t care.

She was certain her little buddy had gotten lost sometime during her initial ‘therapy session’ with Mulder two weeks ago, but she didn’t have the slightest urge to find it. Mulder offered to look for it, but she told him it didn’t matter anymore.

“I hope you don’t think you need to stop masturbating on my account,” he’d reassured. “In fact I encourage it.”

But it wasn’t that. She’d spent years coming with that toy. Scully remembered vividly all the fantasies she’d enacted using it, pretending it was Mulder’s hand touching her, nuzzling into the pillows around her as if the firmness against her back or underneath her pelvis was actually Mulder’s body, desperate to push into her own. She still loved her vibrator, but she had years of human-induced orgasms to catch up on.

She had an inkling Mulder felt the same because she’d never come so much in her entire life as she did with him. His fingers, his palms, his mouth, his cock, even that one time with his knee. She was surprised she could even walk right anymore. She’d never had a lover so in-tune with her body, so responsive to her needs; you’d think they were his own. 

Scully just wished he’d let her reciprocate in kind.

Mulder was satisfied, of that she had no doubt. She’d never seen him as happy or carefree as he was nowadays. But for every instance of him going above and beyond to pleasure her, she was met with a ‘that’s okay’ or ‘wait, I want to try something with you’. Sometimes he’d relent if she told him how much she wanted to focus on him for a moment, but she could see behind his haze of pleasure that he was focusing on whether or not she was comfortable and when he’d be able to return to lavishing her. Her body appreciated it, but there was so much she wanted to do to him. So much he deserved to have done to him.

She didn’t understand why he was so reluctant to just enjoy himself without worrying about her. Well, it was kind of in character for Mulder. Maybe she was reading it wrong, but that’s how it felt. Did he think she was going to leave him? Or that this was conditional based on their first time having revolved around her issues? It made her uncomfortable to think that he was worried she’d up and leave if he wasn’t doing enough.

Maybe it was his hyperfixation. She’d seen it in play many times, and it usually held this much intensity. Was her pleasure his newest fascination? Probably. Maybe he was just always like this with other lovers. But why?

“Penny for your thoughts?” he asked from the opposite side of the couch, pulling her out of her mental contemplations.

Lately they were usually at one of their apartments or the other. They were a bit like teenagers when it came to their excitement at their newfound intimacy. Sneaking around, stealing kisses, part of her wanted to roll her eyes at the juvenility of it all, but she was enjoying it far too much. 

One of her favorite recent developments was the game they’d play. Pretending all day like they weren’t going to go home together until one of them caved and asked. Asking was a role usually taken on by Mulder, as he found a lot of enjoyment in finding new ways to ask her. Asking her to come over through a crossword puzzle he’d made was a little silly, but it was cute nonetheless.

Tonight they were at his place, and she’d spent the whole time mentally formulating a way to bring up the question of ‘why won’t you accept my love as easily as you give me yours?’ She didn’t want to scare him; Mulder had the tendency to be as unnecessarily self-deprecating as possible and she didn’t want to give him any reason to go down that rabbit hole.

She turned to him, the Shiner bottle in her hands clammy with neglect. “I was just thinking of our first time,” she replied.

A familiar thousand-watt smile beamed at her as he waggled his eyebrows. “Oh?” he prompted.

“Mhm,” she nodded, slipping a leg underneath herself as she turned to face him on the couch. “I still can’t believe I didn’t know you were an underground sex therapist for so many years,” she mused.

“I’m a man of many secrets,” he joked.

“You tell me everything,” she retorted.

He nodded in agreement. “That’s true. In my defense, you accidentally found one of Frohike’s porn tapes in the office in your third month of working with me. I didn’t want you to think I was a total pervert.”

She rolled her eyes goodnaturedly and teased, “Does Frohike know he has a stash of sex tapes and nudie mags in your office and your home?”

He gasped lightly in mock-offense and replied, “Scully, you snooped?”

“Looking for towels in your hallway closet was not snooping. It was an awful hiding place, Mulder.”

“That’s fair,” he conceded with a smile. “Does it bother you?”

“No, me being mad at your tapes would be-” she started.

“No. I mean, that I didn’t tell you,” he interrupted.

She shook her head immediately. “Not at all. I just think it’s interesting. I’d never talked that candidly about my sexual history as I had then,” she answered.

He smiled, inevitably remembering all of the embarrassing things she’d confessed. “Did you find it helpful at all?” he asked, grabbing the remote and turning the TV down a bit so there could be more focus on the conversation.

“What do you think?” she laughed, looking at him playfully. He smiled back at her bashfully, and she made her move. “Have you ever done it?”

“Done what?” he asked, unsure of her meaning.

“You were the sex therapist, but have you ever talked as openly about yourself as your ‘patients’ have?” she clarified.

He looked down at his pants shyly and she knew her answer before he even spoke. “Uh, not really. I never really had anything substantial to say,” he shrugged.

“I doubt that, Mulder,” she chastised. He shrugged again as if to dismiss the topic, but she wasn’t done. “I want to hear your answers.”

“To what questions?” he prompted.

“Well, like the ones you asked me,” she answered.

“But, Scully,” he started lowly, leaning into her as if confessing something. “In case you haven’t noticed, I’m very sexually happy as of late. I don’t need therapy.”

She grinned at his words, but pressed again. “But I want to know more about that aspect of yourself, Mulder. You got to hear about me defiling my childhood teddy bear for the sake of getting off. It’s only fair,” she replied.

He nodded thoughtfully at that and leaned back comfortably against the couch cushion. “So you want to be the doctor today, Dr. Scully?” he asked with a playfully sensual emphasis on her title.

“I do,” she nodded, excited he was taking her up on this.

“So, what would you like to know?” he prompted, turning to face her.

She thought for a moment, trying to think of the phrasing of the first question he’d asked her when the situation was reversed. “Describe your first orgasm, in as much detail as you can.” 

“It was similar to yours, actually,” he began. “A sensation I didn’t understand, but was curious about. As I’m sure you know, Doctor Scully, when I was really young I had some dry orgasms because my body wasn’t mature enough. It was never really ‘masturbation’ though. It was just me rubbing myself all around my bed until I shivered.”

“Shivered?” she chuckled.

He laughed with her and nodded his head. “Yeah, I had no idea. Then a few years later I decided to try and jack off. I knew the basic concept, but I’d never executed it myself.”

“What did you masturbate to?” she asked. “I’m presuming you didn’t have your tapes back then?”

“Don’t laugh,” he warned.

“No promises.”

“Mrs. Brady,” he admitted sheepishly.

Her mouth dropped open in amused shock, bust she kept in the laugh that threatened to escape. “Really? I took you as more of a Farrah Fawcett red swimsuit poster type of guy.”

“Well, that was definitely a heavy feature of my masturbation sessions in my later years, but my first love was Mrs. Brady,” he laughed.

“Was it the Hawaii episode?” she asked.

“It was that episode where the kids tried to scare Alice after having a battle between themselves, but the subplot was Mrs. Brady making a bust of Mr. Brady’s head out of clay to submit for an art competition,” he explained.

“I didn’t know you were such a fan of the arts,” she deadpanned.

“Ha. Ha. I don’t know what it was. Hell, she was in a green smock for most of the episode, but there was something so loving about her. One minute I was watching it, the next my extremely attractive 70s neon short-shorts were tented up to my belly button,” he shrugged.

She made a mental note to ask him for embarrassing photos of those shorts, but in the meantime, “Then what?”

He shifted in his seat and looked chagrined at the idea of finishing the story. “I went to my room and did the deed.”

“No, no. Mulder. Details. What aren’t you telling me?” she asked with a smile.

“It’s so embarrassing,” he laughed. She took pity on him, remembering a similar situation where he’d extended her that kindness. “It’s okay if you don’t want to answer. I don’t want to make you feel bad if it’s-”

But much to the relief of her curiosity, he shook his head with a meek smile. “No, it’s okay. Just bear in mind that I was young with no brothers or friends to give me advice. I was clueless.” 

“No judgement here,” she stated honestly.

“So I went into my room, locked the doors, laid in my bed, and took it out,” he stated, almost becoming entranced by the scene he was setting up. “I just played with it with my fingers and my palm, moving the skin up and down. I could tell something was different because it was wetter than usual.”

“Precum?” she asked.

“Precum,” he confirmed. “It also felt like it had a heartbeat, which was really freaky to me.” He licked his lips and took in a deep breath and she had a feeling the embarrassing part was coming up. Then, from out of the blue, he asked, “Do you know what edging is?”

“Almost bringing yourself to orgasm but stopping right before so you can cool down and build yourself back up. Some say it creates a more intense orgasm while prolonging foreplay,” she answered.

“Exactly,” he nodded. “I didn’t know that’s what I was doing, and I didn’t really even mean to be doing it. I just didn’t understand what was coming with the orgasm. No pun intended.”

“What do you mean?” 

“It was my first real time. The only thing I could compare the sensation to was having to pee. Every time I was about to come, I thought I was going to piss myself. So for a good hour I was just edging,” he laughed awkwardly.

“Holy shit,” she balked. “As a kid?”

“Yeah.”

“Damn. Why didn’t you go to the bathroom?”

He pursed his lips a little bit before nodding slowly. “Well… I did. But the reason I didn’t was because the only bathroom was connected to my parents’ room.”

“Oh no…” she cringed.

“So I all but ran in, locked both bathroom doors, and went to the toilet, where luckily a Diner’s Club Magazine was there with a nice looking woman on the cover,” he laughed. “So I ran the water and resumed touching myself and within a few pumps of allowing myself to release, I came.”

“That wasn’t embarrassing, Mulder. We’ve all masturbated to things we’re not proud of,” she reassured, squeezing his hand. She saw his face cringe and she knew there was more. “What?”

“I didn’t know about the ejaculation portion of an orgasm since all of mine had been dry. It was a lot, and I was so scared by the come and the power of my orgasm that I thought I was dying and I just screamed. Not words like you, just an ugly, guttural scream,” he admitted. “My dad burst down the door before I had a chance to even realize I was still on this mortal coil.”

Scully’s face turned into a mask of sympathetic horror. “I’m so sorry.”

“What made it worse was that the page of the magazine had turned so I came all over a McDonald’s ad,” he admitted honestly, but not able to hold in his laughter at the ridiculousness of the situation.

“Not Ronald!” she gasped in mock offense.

“Ronald, The Hamburglar, Grimace, all of them,” he laughed. “My mom never let us eat there again.”

“Is that why you always take us to Wendy’s?” she asked.

He nodded in embarrassment. “I still have shame everytime I see those golden arches.”

This was absolutely not the avenue she thought they’d be exploring when she started this, and while this was a new realization that did inform her on her partner’s eccentricities, she still wanted to get back to her main goal. But she wasn’t really sure how to bounce back from such a story. “Did you masturbate after that? You know, after you realized the Diner’s Club hadn’t killed you?”

“No, Scully. I abstained. I have never touched my penis in two decades. The porn tapes and nudie mags are for decoration,” he deadpanned.

She threw back her head and started laughing and by the time she regrouped she saw him staring at her with mirth in his eyes and a wide smile tugging his lips upwards. “I’m sorry, dumb question. So your shame didn’t keep you from it?”

“No,” he shook his head, still smiling. “I just made sure it was when they weren’t home and learned to suppress my sounds when they were.”

“When did you achieve orgasm by someone else?” she asked before seeing his smirk and adding, “What?”

“Are you copying all of the questions I asked you?” 

“I am,” she nodded playfully, bringing her other leg up onto the couch so she was sitting cross-legged across him. 

“Um…” he contemplated, thinking back. “A school dance when I was fifteen,” he nodded.  “A ball would probably be the more accurate word.”

“You came at a ball?” she asked in shock.

He laughed and waved his hand to dismiss her. “No, the night of the ball. It was a county wide thing. One of those pretentious things to make sure our parent’s children had manners and what not. I went alone, but a girl from a Catholic high school started making moves on me.”

Scully always forgot that Mulder came from money. He never acted like it. His upbringing only ever came out through the polite, chivalrous gestures he’d direct her way. “She kept dancing too close to me. I guess she hadn’t heard to save room for Jesus,” he joked. “I ended up getting a boner and she told me she could help. She took me to some abandoned room and gave me a handjob.”

“The snake handler,” she teased, remembering an offhand joke he’d made a few cases ago.

He nodded his head in affirmation. “Yep. I’d kissed a few girls before that, but my reputation of being the weird kid with the missing sister usually got the better of me and they’d leave before anything happened. That was my first time having a girl touch me like that and I came really fast.”

She frowned at the reminder that his ‘Spooky’ status had been a constant in his life. She couldn’t imagine how hard that type of ridicule would be for a boy who was recently traumatized during one of the most sensitive stages of life. “Did you see her after that?” she asked.

“Uh, no. I didn’t really know how to please a woman, so reciprocity didn’t even dawn on me. I just… I told her thank you and gave her a hug,” he admitted with chagrin.

“Awwh,” Scully beamed. It was embarrassing, but equally endearing.

“Well, she wasn’t thrilled I didn’t return the favor, but she was even more mad that I accidentally came on her dress. She punched me in the face,” he chuckled lightly.

“Oh,” Scully chirped.

“Yeah.”

There was a lull in the conversation before she thought of something to move on with. “Did anything else happen before you became a sex expert at Oxford? Or was that where you flourished?” 

“Well, I wouldn’t call myself a sex expert or say that I flourished per-se, but thank you. But in high school, I only had two other noteworthy experiences. One was another girl from the Catholic school who gave me my first blow job. I accidentally thrust my hips weird and she almost threw up. I felt really bad and she was really mad,” he explained.

Scully had no actual therapist experience, but it was obvious to her that his experiences with girls and getting pleasure in his formative years were marred with shame and guilt. Was that why he wasn’t concerned with handjobs, blowjobs, or any real attention to his body? It evoked the same reaction as whenever he apparently drove past a McDonalds? “What was the other noteworthy one?”

“A girl who lived down the street from me, Millie. Our families were friends and she knew me before Samantha was taken. She was a few years older than me, but one summer day when I was seventeen and she was twenty, she invited me to come to her place for a drink. Her parents were out of town and one thing led to another, but we had sex,” he told her, for the first time this evening he seemed to recall this encounter with a small smile on his face. 

“Was it good?” she asked, eager for him to share a happy memory.

“Well, the very first time wasn’t. Millie had far more experience than I did, and I naturally didn’t last very long. She just… she said I had a lot of potential. She was honest and said I was average, but it was out of ignorance not out of lack of trying,” he stated, leaning forward to grab another beer out of their six pack. 

“Not out of lack of trying?” she repeated.

“I was so scared from the other times that I wanted to to be good for her. But I was just honestly grabbing her chest blindly with no regard to anything, and I just-” he broke off to laugh for a moment before adding, “I wasn’t focusing on the right places at all. I was just kind of groping around and hoping for the best,” he admitted. 

She was about to ask him another question before he continued, “Millie told me to meet her at her place at the same time every week. So of course I did, and each week she’d teach me another thing to do. How to eat a woman out, how to find the g-spot, how to fondle breasts, all of it. I learned so much that summer, and it was her lessons I took with me to Oxford. The few girls I was with afterward seemed to reap the benefits of her guidance.”

“Still are,” she joked in earnest. 

He smiled at her and took a swig of his beer. Mulder really was the best lover she’d ever had. He made her feel things she’d never even felt before. Thanks, Millie. “Do you miss her?” she asked.

“No, I sometimes run into her when I go back home, but we were polar opposites. She’s married to a woman now and I think they intend to move,” he replied.

“Hmm,” she nodded peacefully.

“So,” he prompted, sitting up with a teasing smile. “What’s my prognosis, Doc?” 

“My slightly biased, unbiased opinion?” she asked, waiting for him to agree. “I think your primary focus in sex is always your partner. Which from first hand experience is phenomenal, but I think it comes at the sake of your own enjoyment,” she answered.

“You think I don’t enjoy myself?” he asked, the prior trace of humor in his voice being replaced by concern as his brow furrowed.

She rolled her eyes and rubbed her foot against his leg in a gesture of reassurance. “I know you enjoy yourself, but I don’t think you ever let your own pleasure take centerfield.”

“Keep spouting baseball references and you can see my pleasure in play in no time,” he joked.

“Deflect with jokes all you want, but you know I’m right,” she replied, leaning forward and taking the beer from his hands and taking a swig.

“I’m not sure I understand your point?” he admitted.

Deciding to forego all pretenses of tact, she blurted, “You never let me reciprocate.”

“Wh-yes I do,” he stammered, surprised.

“No, you are always so focused on me that you put yourself second,” she stated firmly.

“But I’m happy, I don’t need anything else but to know you’re enjoying yourself,” he murmured, placing his hand on her calf and rubbing it smoothly.

“Every man enjoys attention, Mulder. I want to make you feel the way you make me feel,” she revealed, her tone coming out a bit more seriously than she’d meant.

He leaned over as best as he could so he could place a loving kiss to her lips. She closed her eyes and kissed him back, enjoying the newness of their open intimacy. After a beat, he pulled back and whispered, “Scully, I don’t even have words to describe the way you make me feel.”

She smiled and felt her face flush under his direct attention. She had no doubt he meant every word he said, but she still felt like nothing was changing. “What if pleasing you is something that turns me on?” she posed.

“Then I suspect that you must be in a constant state of arousal,” he replied. 

She let a little huff of laughter exhale through her nose before leaning forward and pressing another kiss to his lips. He was about to reach his hand around her head before she leaned back, staying close enough that she could feel his breath on her lips. “I want to make love to you,” she whispered.

“I’m all yours,” he replied, leaning in again only to be stopped by her hand on his chest.

“I want you to let me have all the control. Let me be in charge,” she requested.

He stood up slowly, taking caution to avoid knocking her off the couch. He offered her his hand and pulled her to her feet. “I suppose the laws of physics won’t let you carry me to the bedroom?” he joked with feigned disappointment. 

She walked past him, making her way down his hallway to his room. “I have other ways of getting you there,” she teased, whipping her sweater off over her head and tossing it to the ground to reveal her completely bare back to him.

She stepped out of her pants and over the threshold of his room simultaneously, and was pleased when she heard him walk up behind her. Though, as soon as she heard the now-familiar sound of his belt being undone, she spun around and grabbed his hands. 

Mulder paused his motions and looked down at her with a cocked eyebrow. She leaned up on her toes to press an open-mouthed kiss to his lips, throwing her arms around his neck so that her underwear clad body was pressed completely flush to his bare chest. She felt her nipples strain against his coarse chest hair. He extracted his hands from in between them and placed his palms on her bare back, pressing her to him while his hands roamed her skin. 

She smiled into the kiss when she felt his erection twitch against her belly. Leaning back, she watched as his eyes fluttered open slowly, heavy from lust and anticipation. Easing herself back onto her heels, she grabbed his belt and started unbucking it. “I want to do this,” she whispered.

He kept his hands on her while she worked, moving them to her shoulders, then down her biceps. She struggled a bit getting the belt out of the loops, partially glad Mulder’s hands kept her from stumbling back, but he let her do it all by herself. She tossed the belt to the ground carelessly and returned her attention to his fly. She unbuttoned him and pulled down the zipper, feeling a surge of arousal in her core as she felt the heat of him radiating through the fabric of his boxers. 

She hooked her fingers under both waistbands and dragged them down swifty, staying at his feet for an extra moment to help him step out of his socks. When she stood back up, she was met with a smile and Mulder’s hands going straight for the elastic of her underwear. “Wait,” she demanded, grabbing his hands.

Scully felt his hands start to pull away instinctively at the word, a look of worry passing his face as she held his fingers. She looked up at him with a confident smile and stated, “It’s my turn. I want you to just lay back and let me do everything.” She gestured to the bed as she said this, and was glad when he finally took the direction. With a few brief strides, he threw himself on the bed and laid in the middle on his back. 

“This is how I like my Mulder,” she mused with a pleased grin, taking in the sight of him under the dull yellow glow of his lamp. 

He smiled at her praise and squirmed restlessly on the bed. She walked over to the end of the bed, so that she was standing in between his legs and patted the edge. “Come sit here,” she demanded. 

Mulder followed her instructions, scooting himself so his legs were hanging over the edge with her in between them. He absentmindedly raised a hand to her hip and ran his thumb over the skin. She knew she wasn’t being firm in the rules of her own game, but she let him touch her a bit more like that before easing herself to her knees. The hardwood underneath the carpet creaked under her weight as she adjusted herself so that her elbows were on either leg and her breasts were on display. 

She grabbed his swollen erection in her hands and was rewarded with a sharp intake of breath from Mulder. This was one of the first times she’d been able to examine his cock so closely, and while the word struck her as odd for the situation, she couldn’t help but think it was beautiful. He was big, above average by a couple inches, and he had the slightest curve that always felt amazing inside of her. 

She pumped her hand up and down slowly, watching his skin stretch slightly as she did it. He thrust into her hand lightly in reflex and quickly muttered a soft, “Sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry. You’re so sexy, Mulder,” she replied, looking up at him only to see he was staring down at her with full rapture.

Scully smiled at him sweetly before turning her attention back to the matter at hand. She licked her lips and slowly moved her mouth towards the bottom of his shaft, sticking out her tongue and placing it at his base and dragging it up slowly to his tip. “Fuck,” he murmured reverently as her tongue swirled around his tip.

She was just about to take him in her mouth when she felt his hand on her shoulder. “Scully, you don’t have to-”

The fact that other women had treated this as an obligation was evident in his voice. He didn’t want to sit here and have her do this under the presumption she got nothing out of it. Mulder clearly didn’t understand the power of having a man reduced to nothing but gasps and prayers just by a few well placed licks and a bit of suction. The thought of what she could do to him brought on another wave of arousal. She could feel her own wetness starting to seep through her lips and onto the cotton of her underwear.

She stopped him with a firm look and purred, “But I want to.” To punctuate her sentence, she licked him tip to base and watched as goosebumps erupted on his arms. 

He nodded and placed his hand back onto the bed. Taking the go ahead, she leaned forward, blowing on the wet trail she’d created lightly before plunging her mouth down on him. “Oh my god,” he rasped, tensing beneath her as she bobbed her head up and down. 

Mulder was bigger than any of her prior partners and she could feel him hitting the back of her throat while she still had a few inches left to go. Easing herself higher on her knees, she took a deep breath through her nose and relaxed the back of her throat, resulting in her lips hitting his pubic mound as he went all the way in. “Holy shit,” he moaned, clutching onto the bedspread. 

She could feel tears start to gather on her lashline in reaction to the unnatural sensation, but she ignored it and continued her actions, letting her tongue squirm against him as she deep-throated him. Scully could feel him trying his hardest to keep his hips firmly on the bed to avoid causing her any discomfort and she was grateful.

When she needed to take a breath, she eased up and gasped in a quick lung-full air, her subsequent breaths coming out as shuddered pants. She felt Mulder’s hand come up and brush her hair back behind her ear as he stroked her cheek. While he did this, she continued to play with his tip, running her tongue playfully under his head, causing him to gasp. “Scully,” he whispered, a drop of precum leaking out as he spoke. 

She leaned back up and resumed her prior movements, letting him slide all the way down her throat as she rotated her head, letting his cock brush against every surface. His breathing was shallow and she could hear him moaning with every new movement. 

After a few minutes of alternating between different techniques while Mulder demonstrated his surprisingly enduring stamina, he put his hand on her shoulder again. “Scully,” he said in a shaky breath.

She let him bob out of her mouth, a thick mixture of precum and saliva trailing from him to her mouth in a lewd string before snapping onto her chin. Her face was flushed and she knew her makeup was smudged. “Hmm?” she rasped, catching her breath.

“I won’t be able to hold on for much longer if you keep doing that,” he admitted. She laughed and stood up on shaky legs, using his legs for support. When she was on her feet she heard him whisper “Holy shit,” and she looked at him and saw he was staring at her crotch.

“What?” she panted, leaning over to see before being stopped by a hand on her hip. Mulder brought his other hand up and rubbed the cotton front of her panties, making a shiver run up her spine.

“You’re soaking wet,” he murmured, amazed. “I can see it through your underwear and on your thighs, and I haven’t even touched you.”

She grabbed his face with both of her hands and drew his attention to her face, his hand still idly rubbing her through the dampened fabric. “It turns me on to do this, Mulder. Attention directed towards you doesn’t mean it does nothing for me,” she explained, leaning down to kiss him when she was done. 

She broke apart after a moment and beamed down at him with a predatory gleam in her eye. “Now sit against the headboard.”

Mulder did as he was told and she quickly discarded her underwear down her legs, shivering at the trail of slick wetness she felt rub against her inner thigh. She got on the bed, making eye contact with Mulder as she crawled on all fours to him. The usual self-consciousness she’d felt with other partners when she was this bold and wanton was gone with Mulder. He looked at her like she was giving him the best present he’d ever received by simply loving him. In her heart she knew it was probably true.

Scully didn’t sit in his lap immediately. Instead, she kept her head at chest level and leaned forward to playfully lick one of his nipples before bringing it into her mouth and rolling it between her teeth. She felt the rumblings of laughter in his chest begin before it turned into a moan of pleasure. She attended to the other one while reaching in between her legs and gathering some of her own arousal on her hand, bringing it in between them and coating Mulder’s erection with it. 

“Oh my god, Scully,” he groaned, his hips undulating in their spot while she pumped him a few times. 

She suckled on his neck, enjoying the feeling of his erratic pulse beating under her tongue. “You’re so beautiful,” she murmured as she hoisted her legs on either side of his hips, aligning them for the moment they’d both been waiting for.

She could tell he was about to say something sweet back to her, but the words were stolen from his lungs as she sank down on him, sheathing him inside her. She settled until her ass was firmly on his lap and they were panting a few inches apart from the other, sharing a connection with their gaze as well as their bodies. 

Slowly, she eased herself back up on her knees before sinking back down, creating a steady rhythm while the headboard hit the wall and the bed creaked beneath them. None of that mattered to her, all that mattered was the pleasure smattered across Mulder’s face, the way he was coaxing her with his sensual baritone, and the vice grip he had on her hips. 

Suddenly a thought came to her. It wasn’t something she’d really ever done, but with how many tapes and subscriptions he had, it may be something he liked. Leaning towards his ear, she rasped, “You feel so good inside me, Mulder.”

He responded by closing the gap between them and placing kisses all over the hollow of her throat and the crook of her neck. She wasn’t trying to emulate a porn star. No. She just wanted to tell him what he deserved to hear. What she suspected he liked hearing in those tapes. Validation. 

“You have no idea how much you turn me on,” she murmured on a downward stroke. She kept herself on his lap for a moment and rocked her hips forward, grinding their pubic bones together.

“Fuck, Scully. You feel amazing,” he gasped back, drawing his arms around her and pulling her flush to him so her breasts were against his chest.

She continued riding him the best she could in this position, raising one hand to wipe the sweaty hair back and litter kisses across his face. “I love you,” she gasped, her orgasm hitting her suddenly from the angle of his cock and the friction against her clit.

Scully felt his hips thrust upwards frantically as he came inside her, his hot seed spilling out a little bit from each thrust and adding to the mutual wetness between them. 

When their orgasms had both subsided, she collapsed and fell onto him, resting her head against his neck. He nuzzled his face into her hair, pressing kisses against her scalp as he deftly reached and grabbed a blanket, pulling it up to cover them and tuck her even more into him. She felt his eyes grow heavy as she was comforted by the post-coital smell of him and the feeling of being wrapped in each other’s arms.

“I love you too, Scully,” he murmured, rocking her softly in his arms.

She found the strength to raise her head and kiss his chin. “So? How did you like your therapy session?” she teased.

Her whole body moved with his laughter. “I think you have another career path for you if this doesn’t work,” he teased.

She laughed with him and laid back on his neck. “Thank you,” she beamed.

There was a moment of silence as he continued rubbing circles in her back. Then, in a more serious tone he explained, “I’m sorry I’d been reluctant before. I had just never had someone treat me like I wasn’t an obligation before. I never knew how good it could be when both parties care so much about the other.”

“Well, with me you’ll never forget.”

WATCH SEX EDUCATION ON NETFLIX. STREAMING JANUARY 17TH 2020

[scullysexual]

titanic au | multichapter-au | au | multiple parts | historical au | msr | mature | ao3 | 6/13 | @today-in-fic​ |

For Mulder, a wealthy English-bred socialite who’s had everything given to him since birth, the Titanic is shipping him off to a prison, a life he no longer wishes for or wants. For Scully, an Irish stranger from the lower class, it offers a new life, a future she can truly envision in America. What if the universe put them on the same path to achieve those dreams at the cost of life? 

Chapter One.

Chapter Two.

Chapter Three.

Chapter Four.

Chapter Five.

- - -

A JEWEL BENEATH THE MOONLIGHT: CHAPTER SIX.

Embarrassed, anger swirling through her, Scully storms out of the pool, throwing open the doors on her way out. She ignores the looks she gets for her actions, for the way the doors bounce off the walls and startle a woman nearby. She doesn’t care, she just needs to get far enough away from Mulder and all things first class. She barely acknowledges the crewman passing who barks at her to get back to her own deck, Scully gladly goes, climbing over the now locked gate.

She’s done. Done with all of it; the dinners, the people, Mulder. He can live in his sad fake world with his sad fake fiancé. In a few days time, she’ll get off this boat and never the two shall meet again.

His words still ring in her ears. His words, his father’s words, whoever’s words- she doesn’t care, they’re all the same- the same closed minded people who don’t give a shit about anything other than themselves.

But Mulder wasn’t.

She pushes that thought away, ignoring the truth and forcing herself to mould Mulder to be like everyone else. If he did care about her he wouldn’t be worried about what his father thinks.

Why did it always have to come down to what father’s thought of their children?

She finds herself in the galley before she realises, a room completely crowded with people doing nothing with their lives and it angers Scully even more, this whole ship does, every person on it. She’s sick of crowded rooms, of seeing the same people every day.

The novelty of things wears off eventually.

She spies Charlie in the corner, happy, laughing with a group of boys he’s befriended. This journey had given him the freedom to just be a kid, to not have to worry about finding a job or the constant response of “No, you can’t work here”, “No, we haven’t got any jobs free for you”, “No, you need more experience”. He hadn’t won much in the terms of a job, either.

Seeing him now, Scully is envious. Despite the hardships, he was still free to be a child, they could go home and Ma wouldn’t push him to find a job and here, he could laugh with as many people as he wanted, hopelessly flirt with as many girls as he wanted and there would be no consequences, no rules or hearts broken because of a stupid mistake.

Not in the mood for company, Scully leaves the galley, about to head into her room and shut the world away for the rest of the trip before a familiar little voice stops her.

“Dana!”

Scully turns to see a little girl, blonde curls bouncing behind her, bound towards her.

A smile passes across Scully’s face at the presence of Agnes, momentarily forgetting her sadness and anger, she kneels to the girl’s height.

“Hello,” Scully says. “Are you feeling better now?”

Agnes nods her head, her blue eyes bright and cheeks rosy with colour, so much better than the day before.

“You helped me be better,” the girl says. In her hands she holds a brown box and extends it forward towards Scully. “I wanted to give this to you, to say tack sjalv…That means thank you in Swedish.”

Scully takes the box from Agnes, her thumbs slipping under the lid and opening it. A dancer dressed in traditional Swedish clothing appears spinning around as music plays from the box.

A music box.

Scully smiles, warmed by the girl’s gesture of thank you. She looks from the music box to Agnes, the girl’s smile radiating happiness, proud of her gift.

“Are you sure?” Scully asks, thankful for the gift but also having first-hand knowledge that they didn’t carry much and what they did carry was something extremely special to them.

Agnes nods. “It was Mama’s but Papa said we couldn’t keep it anymore, it’s too much space.” Her smile falters at that and Scully knows that it was either to be given away or sold to a stranger.

“I’ll take it Agnes,” says Scully and the girl instantly cheers up. “I’ll look after it and won’t let anything happen to it.”

Agnes happily nods and gives Scully and hug before running off back down the corridor.

The music box in one hand, Scully opens the door and sets the box on the table, a wee bit happier than she was before.

 It’s strange how yesterday she was sat in a great big hall surrounded by shallow-minded people, eating food she could barely pronounce and today she is sat on the end of the bench eating mash and beef.

Well, eating being the desired action, she more than just picks at it.

She should probably eat it. All those times when she was younger, when she just wished there had been a slice of bread in the house remind her that she should eat food when she can, and eat all of it because who knows when the next one would be?

Her mood had lightened up with Agnes’ present but it hadn’t taken long for it to fall back down when she was alone. Maybe isolating herself wasn’t the best idea.

She can’t decide why this whole Mulder thing had gotten to her so. A similar thing had happened before, Scully had got in too deep with someone she shouldn’t and they had left her standing at a train station all night, never showing up themselves.

Whilst it had hurt to be humiliated, to walk back home with her tail tucked between her legs, she’d gotten over that situation fairly quickly and she’d done more than just dance with the man.

Scully tries not to think about the reasons, she was supposed to be blocking Mulder from her mind anyway, no dwelling on him.

“Decided dinner with your own kind is better then?”

Scully looks up to find Charlie opposite her, a smile plastered across his face from his ‘joke’. Sure, hilarious.

He sits down on the bench across from her. “I found your wee English fella before,” he tells her. “Well, he found me actually, jumped over the gate and all,” Charlie finishes with a smile at the memory.

Scully just frowns, why would a man who told her mere hours ago that he wanted nothing more to do with her go out of his way to talk to her younger brother?

“What did he want?”

“He just asked if I’d seen you, which I replied I hadn’t since the party and whatever glimpse I’d gotten of you before you ran out this morning.”

“I was with Agnes.”

Really, Scully doubts she’d spent no more than ten minutes with the lass but she wasn’t about to admit to her brother than she’d been lying in her bed depressed all day.

“Anyway, he said if I saw you to tell you to meet him by the mass at dinner time, he’ll be there.”

Scully thinks for a moment, calming the butterflies that fly in her stomach. Just what was Mulder playing at?

“He also said that you didn’t have to go if you didn’t want to, but something told him you will.” Charlie frowns, staring at her for a moment and Scully feels incredibly awkward.

“What happened between you two? You were getting along at that party last night.” His frown chances into a sly, knowing smile.

Emboldened, Scully pushes her bowl out of the way, leaning forward so her face was mere inches away from her brother’s.

“You can wipe that smile off ye face cause ye don’t know anything.”

She pushes herself away, standing up from the bench.

“You’re gonna go?” Charlie asks, leaning back also.

Scully nods.

“Can I have your food?”

Without a word, she pushes the bowl in Charlie’s direction. Curiosity and nerves blooming, she disappears off to find out what games Mulder wants to play.

 A chilly breeze blows across the deck, the sun almost setting in the distance. It looks beautiful, the orange and purples that paint the sky. It’s clear, the islands just off in distance visible. There’s no one out, every one off in the halls eating dinner, a perfect time Mulder chose.

Scully sees him near the mass just like he said, hunched over and leaning against the rails. At first she thought he’d be sitting on them, not unlike their first meeting. Despite her confusion, her curiosity and the slight annoyance at his ever changing mind, she smiles at the memory.

“Are you always so moody, then?”

At the sound of her voice he turns, almost surprised to see her there.

“You came?” he asks.

Scully nods, “I did. I almost had second thoughts leaving the dinner hall but I thought I’d give you the benefit of the doubt.” She walks closer to him then, shivering in the slight chill, a mischievous smile flittering across her face. “So long as I’m not _distracting _you,” she almost whispers.

And while she smiles he does not, instead pain and regret etched on his face as he looks down at his feet.

“I shouldn’t have said that,” he apologises. “I just…I feel bad for everyone involved in this, even Phoebe, she…she’s a lot but she doesn’t really deserve this.”

There’s a moment when Scully wonders if they’ll ever be able to have a conversation that doesn’t include Phoebe’s name in it but she thinks back to Mulder’s earlier words, how their relationship was complicated, so no, she doubts they ever will.

“What are you trying to say, Mulder?”

He looks up at her then, almost shy. “I guess I’m trying to say that I want to do this. You and me. Us. If that’s what you want?”

Is it? Her anger at him casting her aside, at choosing his family over her, they weren’t friendly feelings. The need to see him today, the speak to him and spend time with him, that went beyond friendship, too. She’s known him less than three days and even in that short time span she can’t think of the moment when they overstepped the friends line.

She doesn’t think he knows either.

“You tried to kiss me when I walked you to the gate yesterday. Did you mean it?”

“I did,” he admits. “I wanted to but you stopped me so I thought maybe you didn’t and then…then before you said we were just friends so why the change?”

“Because you pissed me off,” she tells him, if they’re going to tell the truth they may as well both be truthful. “Because your father is right, I am a distraction.” She walks that little bit closer, now only a foot or so away from them both being in each other’s personal space.

“Does that bother you?”

Scully thinks about that. ‘Distraction’ maybe isn’t the nicest word to use for someone but in this moment she doesn’t care what some little person who seems as far away as the islands around them are, thinks she is.

“No,” she finally answers.

Mulder smiles and slowly outstretches his hand towards her.

“I want to show you something, Distraction.”

Scully smiles at the little nickname and takes his hand. Mulder leads her to the rails, places her where he was just standing.

“Step up onto the rails,”

Scully looks at him cautiously. “What? Are you planning on us both jumping off together or something?”

Mulder ignores her joke. “Just do it,” he says softly.

Grasping the heaviness of the situation she does as she’s told, stepping up on the first rail. She lets go of his hand to grasp hold of the mass, holding onto it for dear life as her feet wobble on the rail. With both of Mulder’s hands freed, she feels him take hold of her waist, holding her in place and instantly she feels a bit more secured.

“Are you sure we won’t get into trouble for this?” Scully asks, suddenly feeling cautious about any eyes that could be watching them.

“Why would they?” Mulder asks, incredibly close to her ear. “We’re not doing anything wrong.”

Correction: this whole step they’re taking is incredibly wrong but Scully decides not to dwell on that, inside basking it in, in the thrill of doing something that she shouldn’t be once more.

“So what am I supposed to be seeing?” she asks, turning towards him.

“Hang on a second.” He takes one of his hands off her side and uses it to cling onto the hand-rail, pulling himself up onto the bottom rail Scully stands on. She can feel every inch of his warm body pressed up against her, and still in her light and playful mood, she pretends to adjust herself so her entire body brushes against his. In response, the hand holding onto her clutches her tighter.

“Stop it,” he tells her, less lightly than before and Scully stops, allowing herself to just lean about into him.

“Look down at the water,” he tells her and she does so.

At first there’s nothing, just the waves caused by the ship as it ploughs on to their destination but then she sees it, a little speck of grey that appears in the air and disappears again. And another one. And a third.

“I see it!” she shouts, as three dolphins jump in and out of the water one after the other.

A smile passes across her face in happiness and delight, watching the creatures appear and disappear. This is what he wanted to show her and it doesn’t matter that she’s seen dolphins before, doesn’t bother her that it isn’t something more special, this is enough, just watching them jump in and out of the water, the cold chill of the wind against the front but the warmth of Mulder behind her, it’s all she can ask for. Slowly, everything fades away; the presence of people tucked behind walls, the view around her and the sun that continues setting in the distance, the ship and its rails that she stands on and finally even Mulder disappears. Her eyes close and she’s warm and happy, free of all worries and stress. There’s no start or destination, it’s just her and the wind and the warmth.

Her surroundings come back soon, Mulder being the first thing to return to her. Scully opens her eyes again and looks down to the sea, the dolphins having gone. The spell broken and she misses their presence.

Weightless and carefree, she turns around in Mulder’s arms, taking her cold hands away from the mass and rail and presses them against Mulder’s warm chest, warming them up.

“Happy?” he asks quietly.

Scully nods. She looks up from her hands to find Mulder’s face inches away from hers. There’s a bit of a height difference between them like this and she steps onto her tip toes, clutching onto to Mulder to hold onto to as she presses her lips against his, once again her surroundings floating away around her.

She’s glad this is their first kiss. The one on the way to the gate would have been drunk and rough but this is sweet and perfect and much, much nicer.

It doesn’t go beyond that, as much as she wants it to be further it’s fine as it is, there’s more time for that later, anyway.

She pulls away, eyeing him nervously but something else catches his eyes. Frowning, his hands climb to her neck, slipping inside her collar to pull out her cross.

She looks at it from where he holds it between them.

“My mammy gave me it,” Scully explains. “My older brother tried to sell it one time but I didn’t let him. Instead I hid it and told everyone I lost it, until it was time to leave and I started wearing it again.” She unclasps it, handing it to Mulder to look at it. “I don’t know why I wouldn’t let them have it,” she wonders almost to herself.

“It’s yours. It means something to you.” She watches as he runs his thumb over the slim lines of the cross.

“I guess,” Scully agrees, staring at it. “It would have fed us, though.”

She watches him continue staring at it and it’s almost like he’s disappeared inside himself, frowning and thinking as he continues to stroke and hold the necklace.

He looks to her, his eyes searching hers and an almost pleading look on his face.

“You can say no,” he begins, before stopping to swallow nervously. Scully waits, interested in what he’s about to ask her. “Can…can I draw you wearing this?” She’s about to answer with a yes before he cuts her off. “Just wearing this?”

[sigritandtheelves]

Drown

Rating: Teen/Mature Tags: Angst, Emily Arc, Per Manum

Stare into the void of season 5’s reproduction arc with me. Brought to you by cramps and seasonal depression in this miserable heatwave. This is for @kateyes224 who wanted me to share the pain. CW for all the reproductive traumas associated w/this arc (child death, miscarriage, infertility, etc.). Yikes.

_+_

There had only been the briefest of windows, and he had missed his chance, of that he was sure. At first there were waves of relief so strong he couldn’t feel the ground beneath his feet: she’ll live, she’ll live, she’ll live pulsing in his veins with each beat of his heart. It was enough; it would be enough; it should be enough, he told himself, and then he sobbed into a bloody photograph of the long-gone happiness of his childhood and realized that it wasn’t. There was always more more more he had to do, and now that she wouldn’t die, he’d have the strength to do it.

He watches her open to him. He watches her fill back up with life, with a joy he hasn’t seen since their early days, and he feels her press closer to him with that openness. Here is Life, and she is going to live it. Here is Scully’s love, and he turns away.

She brings him wine and cheese.

He runs.

She makes a sex joke and sings him to sleep, and the next day they drive home as if nothing has happened.

Later, he dreams about dancing with her at a Cher concert—in a bar, of all places. In the dream he pulls her body flush against his and he smiles at her with a depth of knowing and with the absurdity of their circumstances and most of all with love, while they hold hands to hearts in the smoky room. But when he wakes, he is sweating as if it were a nightmare. He is hard as a rock in his pajama bottoms.

She senses his rejection, after a while, and starts to pull back. Her feet touch the ground again, as his did too soon, and she remembers that although life is a gift, it is terribly, terribly hard.

They work; they smile; he flirts, but she stops flirting back. And then she goes to visit her family for Christmas and the window slams shut.

_+_

“I think I’d like to be alone,” she whispered, and he felt it happen, the snick of the door to her heart as it closed to him. She heard him step away and sighed in relief when he was gone. She would let herself have this, and nothing else. She would kiss the sweaty forehead of her dying daughter, hold the chubby hand that was the weight of everything she would never have, and send this baby, with all her others, into the darkness of unlife alone. Dana Scully felt rebuked for opening herself to even the merest possibility of motherhood, and to the possibility of love as well. She’d regained a chance at life: how dare she ask for more?

Just an hour after Emily slipped away, she got a call from her mother: Tara was in labor. Death for life, she supposed. Scully signed some papers, dialed Mulder’s number, and wandered to meet him with too-dry, salt-crusted eyes. She felt like the cold hand of the undead, brought back from the edge of the grave, but scooped empty of life, reeking of sterility and gunmetal and blood.

Mulder touched her arm, but she barely felt it.

“Will you take me back?” Her voice: flat.

“Yeah,” he said. “Scully, I—“

But he was stopped by the sharp look in her eyes: she would take no comfort now. He dropped her at her brother’s house and returned to his motel where he cried for her, the first time in this new year. Inside Bill’s living room, alone again, she stared at the Christmas tree lights until they blurred and became a white wall of fire. She wanted it to burn her, but instead she fell into cold sleep. When she woke she was an aunt, but no longer a mother.

---

He brought flowers and kind words to the funeral that Scully felt was something of a burden on her family. Perhaps they thought she was selfish for arranging it when they had so much to celebrate. Who was she, who had barely known this child and had given away her heart so quickly, to demand this ritual? They planned a christening; she planned a funeral. But Mulder, who mourned all lost little girls so fully and selflessly, understood. He may never forgive her for being so ready to leave him, but he understood her need to grieve. Scully wondered if this might be what a miscarriage felt like—to grasp so briefly, so fiercely, to a hope for the future, and then to have it ripped away. She would never have the chance to know, she thought, to confirm the comparison.

Back at her brother’s house, there were casseroles, brownies, a Jell-O mold. Scully thought, morbidly, that they should have had the christening on the same day and made it a twofer. She ate nothing, but knocked back enough of Bill’s good scotch that her stomach burned and she finally felt warm. Mulder hovered in the corner looking constipated. She sat on the couch getting drunker and accepting half-hearted declarations of sympathy until she couldn’t take it any more.

She stood too fast and the room spun, but Mulder was at her elbow in a second.

“I wanna go home, Mulder,” she said into his bicep, where her face had landed.

Into her ear, quietly, “Do you need to go up and lie down?”

She shook her head, red hair rubbing, static-clinging to the front of his suit. “No,” she said. “I want to go all the way home.”

“Can you pack your bags?”

“Already packed.”

“Okay. I’ll get them. Will you be okay here?”

She shrugged and tried to get ahold of herself. She combed fingers through her hair and watched the room dip and sway around her. Maggie’s eyes found hers across the room, and Scully looked away in half-shame.

“Dana, are you alright?” Her mother had somehow appeared at her side, looking concerned.

“I’m fine, mom. I just… I need to go.” Mulder descended the stairs with her bags and tucked them in the entryway before walking over to the two women.

“You’re not going to say goodbye to Bill and Tara?” Maggie asked.

As if remembering them suddenly, Scully looked around the room. But then the thought of their new-parent-tired faces and the soft skin of their perfect infant made her dizzy, slightly nauseated. “I can’t right now.”

She was spinning again, and Mulder reached out to hold her steady. Maggie glared at him. “You take care of her, Fox.”

He nodded. “I will.”

In the car, her head lolled and tears ran down her cheeks. He’d never seen her drunk before: not the stoic inebriation of her brother’s house, and certainly not this weepy version that spoke of her own fears and crushed his heart like glass under a boot-heel.

“It’s not me, Mulder. I’m not like them. It’s not for me.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I can’t do it. I’m all wrong for it. My hands are for dead things, not for babies.”

“Scully…”

“You were right. You were right. It’s not mean to be. I can’t go to brunch and laugh at empty jokes and buy onesies and pretend I don’t know what a corpse smells like. I felt like a fucking monster in that house, Mulder. Like the goddamned angel of death,” and a sob slipped out after her last words.

His jaw clenched and unclenched as he drove. He had no idea what to say, so he let his hand rest on her black-clad knee. She was all the light he knew, but he had still tainted her with darkness like a bottle of spilled ink.

“Maybe I don’t deserve it,” she said, almost under her breath. He felt his stomach muscles clench, as if he’d been punched, and a rage flow through him at the world, at himself for the part he played, for making Dana Scully ever ever doubt herself. But he said nothing, just drove them back to the motel.

---

Scully threw up into a trashcan and then collapsed onto his motel bed. Mulder took the bin away and came back with a glass of water and a wet washcloth. He sat in the nook created by her bent knees and ran a hand over her back. She sat, dabbed her face and lips with cool terrycloth that felt rough and good. She drank all of the water, knowing how much she’d need it. After a minute, when the room had slowed its spin, she tucked herself up against the pillows again. Mulder pulled her shoes off and draped the bed’s throw blanket over her.

“Would you have quit?” he asked, not really expecting an answer, and for a moment, he thought she’d already fallen asleep.

But then she said, “If it meant I could get even one thing back that they’d taken from me? Yes. Wouldn’t you?”

He opened his mouth to agree, but then bit it back—it would have been a lie. He wasn’t sure there was much of anything that could make him quit.

“It doesn’t matter, anyway. They never would have let me have her.” Her voice was tired, too exhausted for hope and for pointless speculation. Mulder took his things to the bathroom and changed out of his suit. He eyed the empty space on the bed, but took the armchair instead to work. Her voice startled him.

“You should have told me.”

“What?”

“You knew something. You knew what they’d done and why.”

The ova. The Crawford clones with red hair. Bodies in green tanks. They’re our mothers. Shame gripped at his guts. “No, not why. Not really,” he said.

“You said you knew there were children. My children. It’s my body they violated, Mulder. My future. My life they ruined.” He couldn’t see her face, but he could hear the tears in her words. And the quiet rage. “You didn’t have the right to keep that from me.”

He had that same terrible impulse he’d had after the Jerse case, to tell her that it was his life too, but he knew he’d lost any right to that claim. So he just said, “I know,” and waited for her to fall asleep. He swallowed back his further omission: the little vial in a Fairfax cold storage facility marked Scully, Dana Katherine. When her breathing slowed, he dialed the airline and booked their flight back to Washington.

_+_

Two weeks later, after they’ve rescued a pair of teenagers from the Michigan mud, he confesses everything into the basement elevator while she stares on, incredulous. She takes a vacation, and he’s sure it’s a dry-run for leaving him. He can’t help his desperate flirting, his selfish need to throw everything he can at the possibility of making her stay. But for her, each joke is like a swallowed needle, a stab wound from the inside. Two weeks after that, she invites him to lunch where he’s sure she’ll break the terrible news of her departure, but instead she does something different, but which amounts to roughly the same thing: she asks him to father her child. Her fingers tremble over a Cesar salad and she pretends there are other options, other possible donors, so she can swallow any bites at all. If she can’t have him, perhaps she can have his child. If she can’t have his child, she’ll have no child at all.

He’s so fucking selfish that he wants to say no. He wants to hold her to him like the deflating life raft of a drowning man; the harder he squeezes the more she slips away. But he remembers the tears in his rental car, her mumbled Maybe I don’t deserve it, and he hates himself into saying yes. A baby will split them apart, he thinks, but he jerks off into a plastic cup while remembering the sound of her “Oh God”s as she watched a genocidal inferno unfold in her stolen memory—and he hates himself more.

She listens to another woman call him Fox while she waits to learn if she’s carrying his child. Then she loses her last chance in a wash of blood, and the X-files burn.

They stand in dripping ruin, in the fumes of hot metal and sodium bicarbonate where her uterine walls clench violently in disgrace, and they are both of them suddenly futureless.

-end-

All I can say is… sorry? It feels like there could be more to this, though, so maybe I’ll make it better in a follow-up. Playing with tense shifts a little bit here—hope it worked out.

[settle-down-frohike]

Late to the game as always!! My submission for @xfpornbattle . I was given an unsexy prompt by @contrivedcoincidences6​, my episode being Excelsis Dei, and I’ll be honest, it was *extremely* hard to feel anything resembling smutty after watching it, but I think that was the point. ;) But! I was able to pull prompts 195(dominant Scully) and 38 (Mulder watched Scully have one-night stands for years before making his move) and try to make something work. I do strongly advise re-watching it before you read if, like me, you haven’t in a while. 

My eternal gratitude to @lepus-arcticus​ for going easy on me and making my first beta experience lovely and pain free! <3 If you see any spelling or grammar mistakes at this point it’s from my latest hurried edit and no reflection on her skills at all.  And thank you to Idris Elba, for being, well, Idris Elba. ;) Tagging @today-in-fic​

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Shrinking Violet

R: NC-17 

“I don’t know how to explain it, but it has something to do with those pills.”

An unsubstantiated solution to the substantiated crime. That was her report in a nutshell.

Thanks, Mulder.

She’s spent the last 5 hours turning that crude statement into an official report, and to say she is tired is an understatement. To make matters worse, Mulder seems to be finding any excuse to stay in the office with her. She understands the fact that he was technically her superior, but she doesn’t literally need supervision, for Christ’s sake. He just keeps hovering around her, just outside of her periphery, like a dog circling a dinner table. Rummaging through cabinets, flipping through files, making much ado about absolutely nothing. It’s incredibly annoying, but at this point she doesn’t have the energy to analyze or address it.

She’s been in the same clothes for close to 18 hours now, and just wants her shower and her bed, in that order. She packs her briefcase and watches from the corner of her eye to see if he does the same. He doesn’t even look up. It isn’t until she is halfway out of the door that he even bothers to speak.

“Hey Scully?”

She turns, her escape thwarted,  and regards him with a blank expression, save one raised brow.

“S’good work. This case I mean....I’m glad you pushed it.”

An unexpected wave of rage paralyzes her senses, and for a moment, a rehearsed tirade about his premature dismissal of their victim’s case and its similarities to her own experience plays out in her mind. How it could have so easily been her pleading for someone to validate what her body knows, but what no one can prove-all of the physical evidence that would hold up in a court of law having been erased, her chance at justice stolen, along with a good bit of faith in the system she works for. It lodges in her throat that she’s disappointed in him, maybe for the first time.

She can still hear herself pleading with him to continue to pursue this case, and the memory makes her cringe. Her abduction has her unwillingly humbled, punished for the company she’s chosen to keep, and she hates it. If she’s being punished, she’d might as well commit a crime befitting.  Ahab once grounded her for a month after she came in smelling of cigarettes she hadn’t smoked. It’d felt righteous then, on the roof at 3am, choking on an entire pack of her mother’s Virginia Slims. Bad decisions might as damned well be her own.

She doesn’t know herself anymore. The body in the mirror at home is softer than it used to be, it slouches with memories of invasion and abuse. This body betrays her. It keeps secrets now. It’s frustrating to feel patronized by one’s own mind. She appreciates the work keeping her busy,  and she hoped coming back as quickly as possible would be the first step in feeling whole again. But she’s not anywhere close to restored. Her edges feel tattered and stitched poorly together, and though her reflection may not show it, she’s a Raggedy-Ann version of her former self. She wants her body back, her memories back, and her autonomy back.

To let him know these things would show weakness. So instead, she smiles tightly at the floor and mumbles some platitude about teamwork or partnership and slips out. If she makes it to the garage fast enough, he won’t have time to wrap up this charade, gather his own things, and follow her home. Again. She’d rather him pull the big brother act when he thinks she’s not looking.

----------------------------------------------------

At the third stop light before the freeway, a Holiday Inn sign reads, “$1 MRGRTAS” and the rebel in her smiles. He won’t follow her in here, and if he does, she’ll hopefully be drunk enough to say what’s on her mind.  She’s not ready to be at home alone with those thoughts just yet.

Two hours later, she’s four deep and enjoying her umpteenth cigarette with relish, her nose is pleasantly numb, and her thoughts about her partner are turning maudlin. He’s trying, she reckons. She knows he cares deeply for her. He likes to keep her close, like a lucky rabbit’s foot or some other talisman, rattling around in his pocket with the loose change, carelessly cherished. She remembers a time, not so long ago when she’d been starry-eyed and school-girl smitten with her new partner, with his unexpected good looks and unreachable genius. And for a time, they’d sparked against each other like flint meeting a match. For a time, it’d felt like maybe he’d felt something too. Her disappearance has exposed weakness in them both, she supposes. Her need to push against support instead of leaning into it, and his inability to offer any outright, for fear of not deserving the trust. This thought feels like something resembling forgiveness, and, her anger having dissipated, she’s thinking seriously about paying her tab and calling a taxi. At that moment, an impossibly rich baritone asks if the seat next to her is taken.

The accent is British, and his suit is expensive. He fits in here about as well as she does. He orders Glenlivet, neat. The tequila has her feeling loose limbed and mischievous, so after a few moments of quiet companionship, she slips off her jacket to reveal the pale blue silk shell underneath, just to see what might happen. Her newer, larger breasts stretch against the fine fabric, and if the sensation is unfamiliar and discomfiting, his side glance is not. She swallows any lingering traces of self doubt down with a swish of salt and cheap mix. The game is afoot, and the rush of adrenaline to her brain at her prowess is euphoric. She wants more of this kind of puissance, achieved cheaply, but effective nonetheless.  

“You’re not singing tonight?” He nods towards the empty stage, floating lights and karaoke machine at the corner of the bar, unused, thankfully.  

“Not tonight,” she smiles into her plastic tumbler, “too much competition.” His resulting chuckle is deep and dizzying.

Afoot, indeed.

She turns her head and is met with a very handsome smile with a face to match, basset-hound eyes and skin the color of strong espresso. His beard is well kept, and only serves to highlight his strong jawline, and sumptuous mouth.  The closely tailored suit is doing nothing to hide the brutish build underneath. But he carries it with such elegance.  He is fist-bitingly sexy. His handshake is gentle and warm, his name is Miles. There’s a bewitching hint of grey at his temples, and she is suddenly swooning, and damning everything all to hell.

She can’t honestly believe she hears herself ask if he is here alone, but the words come from someone that sounds a lot like her.  He nods, and says he’s there ‘on conference’, the way that well-to-do Brits must put it, and the rest of his associates are at the Four Seasons.

“I’m set to give a lecture come morning, and tonight... I  just needed a bit of breathing room.”

“Pressures at work?” She asks. He nods and releases a puff of smoke from one of her borrowed cigarettes.

“Comes with the terri’try, I suppose. I’m the head of my department at university. I’m expected to have allll the answers,” he cracks, with a wide sweep of his arm.

She chuffs. “That’s interesting. Lately I feel like I have no answers, only questions. But I think I understand.”

Their eyes meet again, and the air around them is suddenly charged. Not sexual, really, but a kind of understanding, a kinship being formed, and she’s now more drawn to him than ever. She feels brazenly without filter.

“Do men like you, with answers, I mean, does that power ever become a burden?”

“It absolutely does. Yes.”

She surveys the room, nodding. “Well I can assure you, Miles. Being without them can weigh on you just as well.”

He’s watching her still, even as she refuses to return his gaze.

“Can I help?”

That catches her attention. His eyes are crinkled with scrutiny, but  something else, something familiar radiates behind the humor. Ah, yes. She recognizes it now. Need. Naked and thinly veiled behind his offer.

“Yes,” she answers, with a Mona Lisa smile, “yes, I think maybe you can.”    He gracefully signals the barkeep, and she stands to gather her jacket and purse.  

-------------------------------------------------

She shivers visibly as he closes the door to his room, and she chalks it up to the ancient overactive air conditioner by the window and not her nerves. Like the gentlemen she expects him to be, though, he adjusts the setting before relieving himself of his own jacket, and walks to stand before her. But God he is striking, and mysterious and reserved in a way that intimidates and in turn, arouses her. And something about the scent of the cheap furnishings and the last traces of his expensive cologne is intoxicating in an illicit, tawdry sort of way. This feels like an affair. This stranger’s body she’s been inhabiting for the last few months now is behaving like the old Dana would, unmercifully enraptured by an older, powerful man.  

“Tell me what I can do,” he says gently, and she’s swept up on a wave of supremecy.  

“Take off your clothes,” she orders, softly but firmly, as she begins to relieve herself of her own, “and get on your knees.” His eyes flash brightly and he obeys, an eager supplicant. The slightest sway of her pelvis toward his mouth is all the command he needs, and his tongue snakes between her thighs, smoothly traces her outer folds, seeking entrance. She presses her hand to the back of his head and he growls into her in response. She can see him growing long and thick and hard between his legs, purely on the taste of her. Her voice is husky with want, and the air is saturated with pheromones.

“Make me come.” 

And he does. Using long, deft fingers and a dexterous tongue he suckles and strokes with perfect pressure, an even rhythm, until the one leg she has thrown over his broad back becomes two, and she’s lying back on the bed, watching herself thrash and moan from far, far above her body, this dark god of a man at her mercy.

He laps at her gently, bringing her down from orgasm with incredible tenderness. His beard is soaked and glistening when he looks up, and she decides she’s not done with him yet. 

“Lie on the bed, now.”

He rises wordlessly, licks his lips, and nods. When he settles, fully prostrate, she rises and stands next to the bed, admiring his form. Every inch of him is perfection. She wants to bite at his pebbled nipples, suckle at his mouth, capture the straining tendons at his neck between her teeth. He’s visibly, if willfully, tortured, and true power is not without mercy.

If she were to straddle and face him, it would feel too intimate. Neither want connection, they want distraction. She wants to use him and he wants to be used. So she turns back and watches herself sink down, slowly, onto his dusky length in the dresser mirror. The woman before her is dominant, formidable, and she’s aching to come again. Her fingers slide down between her breasts, over her mons and past her clitoris, fully engorged, stiff and eager.  She finds their bodies’ joining, finds where he enters and his slick girth spreads her open, impaling her as she rises and falls. Her slick, shining fingers reach her mouth and taste their sex, rich and biting. He’s watching her reflection with wide, worshipful eyes. Dipping lower, her fingernails graze the tender underside of his sack, and the muscles in his legs rippling in anticipation, like a thoroughbred at the gate. He thrusts unconsciously and groans helplessly, “God!” and the succubus in her takes over. She growls, “Don’t you dare fucking move,” and starts to work herself ruthlessly, grinding him down and deep against her cervix, the sensation acute and exquisitely painful, over and over again. Her eyes never leave her reflection, even as she is open-mouthed and howling, her second orgasm consuming her like a brushfire.  His own climax registers somewhere in the distance.  

-------------------------------------------------------------

Her legs are trembling with exertion, an unnamed emotion bubbling it’s way to the surface. She collapses forward, sobbing, as a pair of warm, strong arms envelope her from behind.

“You are incredible,” he whispers, breathless, “a goddess. Now come here.” His commanding tone is softened by English r’s. The fight in her has gone, but he takes no advantage. He tucks her next to him under the thin comforter and tells her sternly, “Give yourself time to heal, girl. You have all the power you seek. Wield it as you wish. You have nothing to prove to anyone but yourself.” The last thing she thinks is how, in this moment, she does feel very much like a girl, newborn and guiltless and so very, very afraid again of what she does not know. What her mind won’t let her remember. For now though, she lets his warmth and his brawn shield her against the demons that beckon.

Come morning, on the pillow next to her, a vibrant, freshly picked violet is all that remains of him.

---------------------------------------------------------------

A disheveled man sits in a parked car across the street from the Holiday Inn, two days worth of stubble coating his cheeks, eyes red-rimmed and shifty. His body shakes, the indignant fury he felt previously now exhausted into fumes of guilt as he watches her come through the sliding doors, out to her car, and follows it as it drives away. She’s safe at least. She’s alive. He doesn’t know how much longer he can keep this up.

[poeticsandaliens]

Making Wonderland

Rating: G, minus Will’s penchant for crass language

Summary: Set thirteen years after MS IV, Will makes a strange request of his sister. Mulder and Scully are in love, Alice Mulder-Scully is a teenager, and grown-adult William is about as straight as I am (not very, if you needed a hint.) 

I’m writing more than I have in weeks right now. It’s my final vacation day, and I don’t expect to write much in the next month so I guess I’m joining the fic-storm while I can.

Tagging @today-in-fic.

By the time Alice was twelve, it became very obvious that her parents were not normal in any sense of the word. She saw it in the little things—Her friends came back from summer vacation with an onslaught of beach selfies and family photos in brightly colored straw hats, while she returned with pictures of her parents making faces in the glare of heavy duty flashlights, blurry cryptids captured in a split second on camera. She had half a dozen videos of her brother making fireflies spell her name in the woods. 

That was another thing—her thirty year old brother who spoiled her the way other kids’ grandparents did. In fact, when she was younger he’d shown up to her school on grandparents’ day in the body of a white-bearded seventy-nine year old in a fedora and pink button-up shirt. He’d confessed to her later that he chose the look because it reminded him of Ian McKellen.

But perhaps the biggest indicator of her family’s undisguised strangeness was the way no one seemed to get older. She knew her parents were older than most of her classmates’, but they looked fifteen years younger than they were. They looked exactly the same as they had in her baby pictures. Will, too, didn’t look a day over twenty-one. She had read Tuck Everlasting in fifth grade, and it had sent shivers down her spine.

The unfortunate side of her brazen magic brother? Her friends thought he was just “sooooooooo handsome.” When her phone buzzed after school, Emma grinned and batted her lashes and asked her, “Is that Will?”

Alice wrinkled her nose, glancing at the screen. “Yeah. And don’t talk about my brother like that; it’s gross.”

“He’s cute.”

“He’s thirty, Emma, and he has a boyfriend,” she muttered like she didn’t have a Harry Styles poster plastered over her bed. She answered the phone.

“Hey Will. Are you coming to get me today, or is the fruit stand busy?” Five years ago, bouncing between jobs with a different face at each one, Will had bought a nearby tract of land on a whim. He’d turned it into a cabin and a little field of cherry trees. She camped there some summer nights with him, flashlights peeking into the woods, waiting for something. Deer, a family of owls, maybe a Mothman or two. 

It’s pretty busy, but Jace is coming to get you. Dana’s working late, and Mulder left for the book tour, so you’re coming back to the farm for awhile this evening.

“Sweet,” she said. “So why the call?”

I have a favor to ask you. His voice dropped half and octave, and her heart jumped into her throat.

“Did you do something crazy Will? Like, with your…” she waved her hands in the air and whispered, “powers,” into the phone with a sidelong glance at Emma. 

No, no, it’s not about that. But before I ask I need to warn you—this isn’t something you can tell Mulder and Dana, okay? Not yet, anyway, and it’s a little risky. Which is why you should think long and hard about it before you answer. Got it?

This gave her pause. Will was an adult; there weren’t many secrets he had to keep from their parents. A few things—where he’d gone while on the run before she was born, the places he’d seen—he reserved for his sister’s ears only. His relationship with their parents was different from hers, and not just due to his age. He called them Dana and Mulder, for God’s sake. She’d gotten used to it a long time ago. 

“Okaaaaay,” she said, drawing it out on her tongue suspiciously. “My lips are sealed.”

Will cleared his throat. It’s about Jace.

“Ohmygod you’re going to propose aren’t you. Do you need help planning something? I promise I won’t tell Mom and Dad about it until he says yes. Cross my heart. Please tell me you’ll ask him to marry you. It’s been five freaking years,” she gushed. 

Beside her, Emma raised her eyebrows. “What?” she whispered.

She covered the speaker and turned to Emma. “I think Will might finally propose.”

Emma squeaked. “About time!" and elbowed Alice playfully. "Guess I don’t have a chance then.”

Alice swatted her, then returned her attention to her brother. “So?” 

I told you, I’m not proposing until Jace graduates medical school, he said, but she could hear the lopsided smile in his voice.

She tried to hide her disappointment. “So what is it?”

You know how I still get carded at liquor stores?

"Because they think you're a rebellious high schooler."

Yeah. The phone went silent for a moment. Then— I’m not really getting older anymore. I mean, I am, just like half as fast as everyone else.

“Gee, I hadn’t noticed. Kinda figured out we had messed up genetics when Mom and Dad broke the headboard in their sixties.”

Jesus. That must’ve been awkward.

“You have no idea. Now go on.”

You know I used my blood to keep Mulder from aging faster than the rest of us. You know, so he won't have a heart attack at your graduation.

She snorted. It'd taken her a long time to reach the point where she could joke about the unexplainable science that ran rampant through her life. It helped to see Will use his powers to make the TV remote float to her across a room, or re-heat her hot chocolate on the counter—the mundane things. 

Will continued, Dana can’t give him blood, but I can. And I’ve been thinking a lot lately about where I want to be with Jace in twenty years, and Alice I don’t want him get old without me. I sound like a fucking sap— sorry, don’t tell Dana I cursed in front of you—

Alice rolled her eyes and adjusted the phone against her ear. “No worries.”

And I realized, I can’t give Jace blood, but you can. Would you be willing to do that, so he can be part of our family? A pregnant pause. Please remember, it’s entirely up to you. It’s super under the radar and I don’t want to get you into trouble. Just… it’s your choice. It’s your body and your blood, and I know it’s a lot to think about.

She squared her jaw. “I’ll do it.” It wasn’t a lot to think about—Will was her brother. Jace felt like her brother. They deserved the kind of happiness her parents had; they deserved a life together that her family’s genetic peculiarity couldn’t mess up. She was thirteen, and she had two models of love in her life she hoped she’d one day live up to.

Oh. He sounded shocked, and she tried not to be insulted by it. Well, um, it wouldn’t be for another couple of years, but we’d have to run a couple of tests before then.

“Just… promise me you’ll ask him to marry you. It took Mom and Dad seven years to even get together and another twenty to get married. It took me for them to get married, in a freaking courthouse. I want to see a wedding ceremony.” 

She was only kind of kidding.

[greekowl87]

Prompt Fic

@scully-loves-ruthie sent me three prompts originally last weekend. I did one last weekend, these are the other two: 'Have you ever lied to me?' and  'This is where you impress me, right?'

P.S. I have two more prompts I want to knock out by Sunday. Send me more in the mean time? Please?

When they bought the unremarkable house after being on the run for three years, it was a chance for them to settle, put down some real roots. Mulder had always fantasized about settling down into a little place like this out in the middle of nowhere; he remembered telling as much to Scully during the Peacock brothers' case. But this was different. He had Scully now (and still!) with him and this was their home. Their home. It seemed so surreal.

They had called various motel beds theirs but this was different. The old farmhouse came with a hodge-podge of furniture but she resolutely determined that at least one purchase that needed to make was a new bed, their bed. And like a normal couple, they went to a local discount furniture store, picked out a bed and a new mattress, deciding in the spur of a moment to get matching night stands while Mulder's fugitive status was left somewhere else across the country and momentarily forgotten. Scully drove to an old storage unit outside of Baltimore that her mother had up kept and taken out his old fish tank, knick knacks, and pictures. They even went to the local pet store and picked out new fish.

Scully found a new job at a hospital some distance away in Washington D.C. where she could freely return to medicine and keep up some normal semblance of a regular person. Mulder stayed home, relishing in the short times they were together. She worked long hours and the commute was hell too. But, in the first six months, they somehow made it work. Mulder would wake up an hour early before she left to have coffee with her in the mornings or stay up late to draw her baths, give welcomed foot massages, heat frozen dinners. On those rare days off, they would just spend it together, watching bad movies and cuddle on the couch.

Mulder wanted it so badly to work between them. He owed Scully everything while he felt like the world's sorriest son of a bitch to quote Big Brother Bill for ruining her life. When she was gone, he tried to make himself useful around the house. He was a handyman, maid, and cook. He thought he made Scully a pretty good housewife.

One February though, he had been watching too many cooking shoes and decided to do an elaborate stuffed chicken and pasta dish. He even ventured up to the good, chain grocery store and picked up two bottles of expensive white wine. She had said that morning that would be home early but now his insecurities were gnawing at him. What if she finally decided to be rid of him? By nine, the meal had gone cold and was put away in the fridge. He contemplated drinking one of the bottles of wine himself and passing out on the couch in his office. But then he heard her car in the drive way.

Mulder took a deep breath, trying to compose himself and not let his disappointment show as he walked out into the living room to greet her. Scully stumbled in, clearly exhausted. Bags were under her blue eyes and she uncharacteristically threw her coat, gloves, and briefcase across the room. She collapsed on their living room couch and uselessly toed off her heeled boots. "Everything okay, Scully?" he asked softly, moving to pick up her discarded articles of clothing.

"Hm." She was only capable of grunts at this point as she pinched the bridge of her nose to relieve a building tension headache. "Tired."

"You usually call when you're running late," he said neutrally. He kept standing across the room, his arms crossed. "I thought something happened."

"A late surgery," she mumbled. She sat up and looked at him sadly. "Dinner."

"You're birthday dinner. Happy birthday, Scully."

Scully looked dazed as she did the mental calculation. "So it is. But you never remember my birthday, Mulder."

"I told you I remember them like dog years. Makes you younger." He shifted uncomfortably. The guilt and insecurity were overwhelming now. "Have you ever lied to me, Scully?"

"About what, Mulder?" She looked at him like he had grown an extra head. He was quiet and looked down at his feet and then out the door as if looking for an escape. He was withdrawing into himself. She patted the couch and held out her hand. "Mulder."

So much meaning carried in just saying his name. He wordlessly came to her side, taking her outstretched hand. Like two vines, they curled around each other, this time Mulder resting his head across her breast, listening to her heart as she kissed him soothingly and rubbed his arms. "Don't you ever be sorry, Mulder. For anything."

They sat quietly together, unspoken words and gestures communicating volumes. He closed his eyes, thankful for such an amazing woman in his life despite everything. "I made you dinner. Some fancy chicken and pasta dish I saw on PBS," he whispered finally, "and got you some really good wine."

"My Mulder. Housewife. I bet it will reheat well," she teased. "This is where you impress me, right?"

"Trying?"

"Succeeded." She sighed, continuing her leisurely kisses. "The reason why I was working late is so I can have two days off in a row. Just us. No hospital. No mom. Just us."

"I don't deserve you," he whispered into her jacket.

"You do, Mulder," she whispered soothingly. "You deserve a happy ending. We both do."

He hugged her tighter. "I love you, Scully."

"I love you too, Mulder." She stroked his long hair. "Did you at least get me anything for my birthday?"

He looked up and smiled. He drew a small wrapped package from behind the couch. "As a matter of fact, I did."

She tore the small package open and chuckled happily, seeing the picture the seller had snapped of them the day they bought the house. Mulder had his arm wrapped around her shoulder, stealing a kiss, as she laughed in front of the unremarkable house, caught mid frame. He sat up slightly and nuzzled her neck. "Yes?"

"Yes," she said in silent affirmation. "Thank you, Mulder. And for the record, you have nothing to prove. But I want that on my nightstand."

"Yes, ma'am." He kissed her cheek softly. "I just set the bar higher for next year. What do you say we take one of those bottles of wine to bed with us?"

"I was thinking the bath first."

He nipped her neck teasingly and murmured, "I like the way you think."

[gaycrouton]

Either 13 or 93 if you want them?

I have another request for 93 in my inbox, so I’m gonna just do 13 right now: “I won’t let anyone hurt you, you’re safe with me.” I wanted to take another crack at Early MSR, and I thought this prompt fit really well with it. I always wished we saw more after Scully was almost raped in Gender Bender. I feel like that wasn’t given the weight and importance it deserved. So here we go.

He doesn’t know her all that well. He wished he did, but the honest truth was that she was still a bit of a mystery to him. These few months of partnership hadn’t done much in the way of unraveling the enigma of Dana Scully. He could confidently say that she liked to get Diet Root Beer and the occasional pack of choco balls. He could describe in detail how to tell if she was overworked. However, ask him what brought her joy, what she liked to do on her days off, hell, even what her dreams in life were, and he wouldn’t know where to begin. She had built up walls of defense out of mortar and bricks and, aside from the occasional moment of weakness, the walls were built to stay.

With that being said, Mulder knew her well enough to know there wasn’t a chance in hell she’d blow off following a lead to screw around with a potential suspect.

After he got over the initial shock of seeing her sprawled out on an old twin mattress, her shirt opening a few buttons too low for his modest partner, a man hovering over her with the intentions of their position clear; he remembered that fact. Scully would never fuck around on a case. Then he started to register just exactly how wrong the scene in front of him was. Something was off in her far-away stare, even from his position at the door he could see her eyes were glassy and unfocused. She looked completely prone and lifeless on the bed as this man, with his knee shoved in between her thighs, loomed over her.

Suddenly an overwhelming surge of protectiveness shot though his body as his fury at Brother Andrew grew. She’d called him territorial in the past, and hell, maybe he was, but he was going to put a stop to whatever this was. The man seemed almost contrite as Mulder yelled, “Get off of her!” Moving away from her, but not fast enough for his taste.

After shoving Brother Andrew away, he grabbed her hand, expecting her to jump up off the bed now that she was freed from his weight. Instead, his move just resulted in him tugging her body a little off the bed before it fell back down like a sack of potatoes. The worry that had been gnawing at him became overwhelming, if it wasn’t for the way her eyes were trying to lock on him, he might’ve thought she was dead from her complete lack of response.

He needed to get her out of here. Now.

He bent down and wrapped his arms around her, hoisting her against him and supporting her full weight with so much ease it scared him. Did Brother Andrew pick her up like this and throw her down on the bed? He didn’t have much time to ruminate on the thought because he felt Scully’s feet move against his. He placed a hand on her stomach to stable her on her wavering footing and led her out the door, not giving the stunned man a second glance. His only priority was swaying in his arms right now.

“Are you okay?” he whispered to her as he continued to support her down the hall. She was leaning heavily on him and her footsteps were sluggish and clumsy.

“M-mu-” her whimper was so quiet it was practically just air passing through her lips masquerading as a plea, but he knew that’s what it was. He bent down so he was closer to her height and brushed her hair back. He didn’t even realize his hand was shaking with adrenaline until he saw it mid-air. His nerves were the last thing on his mind as soon as his eyes met hers. She still looked dazed and confused, but tears were brimming against her lashes, threatening to spill over. It was like he was holding the shell of a woman who was internally screaming.

She looked like she was trying to communicate something through her gaze that her voice couldn’t. “Help,” if he hadn’t been looking at her when she mouthed that he would have missed it, as she didn’t utter a sound. The tears spilled over and it tugged on something inside him. The same something that was initially filled with jealousy at the sight of her in the arms of another man. The same something that wanted to take her far away, hold her tight, and tell her everything was going to be alright, and have the confidence to actually mean it.

His desperation wouldn’t be any help to her, so he did all he could think of and just continued walking her down the stairs step by step. As much as he wanted to carry her, he didn’t think the Scully he knew would appreciate it. When they got to the main floor, he took her by the hand and tugged on her to follow him. She seemed a little steadier now, but confusion looked to be taking place of the dazed expression she had been wearing.

Tugging on her arm made her shirt shift and he realized it was still unbuttoned lower than he knew she’d want. At the same time, he heard someone moving on the stairs and didn’t want her to have to see him again, so he quickly buttoned her shirt up a bit as he backed up, throwing flaps over her chest for good measure as his back opened the patio door.

He didn’t have a chance to be relieved for getting her out of there though, because as soon as his foot hit the grass he saw a group of the Kindred standing in a group in front of them. They stood there for a second in a charged staring contest until one of the women spoke up. “I told you not to interfere.” A small part of him was aggravated. Scully wasn’t supposed to go off on her own. She was supposed to be his back up and help him; he could have really used her help back there, but instead she was putting herself in danger going off alone with a suspect.

He shook away the thoughts as soon as they came. He couldn’t think like that. He didn’t know the circumstances that led her there. All he could focus on right now was the way everyone in the group seemed to be staring at Scully, looking as if they all knew what had almost taken place up there and she was some tainted being. It made him uncomfortable, so he drew her closer to his side and glared.

He didn’t know what changed, but the Kindred seemed to step down and made a path for them to leave, gazes never leaving Scully. Mulder wasn’t going to let the opportunity to get her somewhere safer pass by, so he took her by the hand and led tugged on her to follow. Once they were away from the kindred, she seemed to pick up the pace, walking much faster than she’d been able to a minute ago.

He took a glance back to make sure they weren’t being followed, and, upon seeing them retreating back into the farm house, felt safe enough to finally ask her the question that’d been at the forefront of his mind since seeing her on the bed. “What the hell were you doing back there?” It came out a little harsher than he’d intended, but it was purely out of the fear he hadn’t been able to shake off.

“I don’t know,” she mumbled as if she were in a trance. He had an arm wrapped around her, trying to stabilize her uneven footing. He kept her tucked into his side as he bent down to try and get a better look at her face. Was she drugged?

“You don’t know?” he repeated. He didn’t understand what she meant by that. She didn’t know what he was going to do? She didn’t remember?

“No,” she stated, in the same monotone voice. She stopped suddenly and punctuated it with a cough. He bent down again to see what she was doing, but she swerved under his arm. She made a little sound in the back of her throat before stumbling, trying to use the fence to stabilize herself, as the coughs racked her small frame.

“Are you all right?” he called out, feeling useless because he had no idea what that bastard did to her and she was seemingly unable to tell him.

As an answer, she bent down at the waist and dry heaved. He ran the remaining few feet and grabbed her waist gently to keep her from falling. She sounded like she was choking on her sobs and vomit, so he ran a hand up and down her back to comfort her. The thick coat couldn’t hide the fact she was trembling.

She heaved a few more times, seemingly unable to get anything out, before spiting onto the wet earth and standing up straight. For the first time since he found her, she was able to meet his eyes, and the despair he saw broke his heart. She kept looking at him before glancing back at the house, as if expecting to see someone coming for her. “W-what happened to me?” she asked in a voice uncharacteristically meek for his tough as nails partner.

“You don’t remember?” He’d assumed she’d been drugged, but this didn’t really match up with anything he was familiar with. She was too active for it to be Rohypnol, even though that did cause memory loss, and she clearly wasn’t drunk.

“I just remember I was with Brother Andrew-” He could tell she still wasn’t fully with it and her confusion was just serving to upset her more.

He moved one hand so it was gently holding her bicep as the other cupped her cheek. “Do you remember why?”

She looked like she was trying her hardest to remember, but was just drawing a blank. She choked back a sob and shook her head, glancing back in fear again. “He was on top of you when I busted in-”

She surprised him when her eyes pivoted back and locked on his with such an intensity it shook him to his core. Her tone of voice didn’t match the strength of her gaze when she asked, “Di-Did he ra-”. The trembling of her chin stopped the sentence from forming fully, but he understood it regardless.

He shook his head confidently and reassured, “No, no. When I got there, you were still fully clothed. He didn’t rape you.”

But he almost did.

And that unspoken end of the sentence was louder than anything and it made her face crumble as he drew her closer to him. They were close tonight. Too close. Scully was almost assaulted, and Mulder almost was too late. He wouldn’t have been able to forgive himself. He stroked her hair, ever so slightly matted in the back from the bed and he tried to smooth it out as if her fear would go away with it. It wouldn’t, and he knew that. So he offered her words of comfort instead.

“I won’t let anyone hurt you, you’re safe with me.” He hoped she’d take his words for more than just empty promises because he vehemently meant them. They’d covered each other more times than he could count in their short partnership and he just hoped she didn’t feel like he’d let her down this time. He was blaming himself enough for the both of them.

He felt her trembling let up and she wasn’t checking behind her anymore. With a shaky smile she nodded. He hadn’t asked her anything, so he took it as her confirming she believed in him. He gave her a weak smile in return before taking her hand once more. “Let’s get out of here, okay?”

Hope you enjoyed! I want to thank Ao3 user Scullylovesqueequeg for helping beta me! Her stuff’s dope as fuck so you should check it out. Okay, but truly I did NOT like how Mulder tried to come at her in the car scene after this. Like homegirl was honest to god almost sexually assaulted and you’re being a dick, but I digress. I was probably too generous with this depiction of their early relationship, but I just wanted to justify his actions, lol.