#love you and i love to talk about scully i just hate how everyone else talks about her

[carefulfears]

we've talked a bit before about how obsessive scully is, that she's a zealot. and i was thinking about this when i posted about signs & wonders. it's how i think about her with mulder — specifically the idea that mulder is a (her) prophet, the way her faith shifts to him. she follows him, protects him, believes (in) him. the way that, in the show, he's objectively right so she's right to take his side. it's reinforced even as they're "punished" for it. is this what you mean or maybe something else i haven't really considered?? what scenes/episodes do you think this plays out most? (as always, love anything you have to say especially about scully <3)

yeah that's basically what i've been thinking about...but like, when you posted about signs & wonders, this was the ending dialogue that you shared:

Mulder: If this was some sort of test looks like I failed. Scully: I'd say if it was, you passed with flying colors. You're alive, aren't you?

and i think it gets bypassed a lot of the time how reductive "believer/skeptic" is, in that these are roles that they play but often not really who they are. mulder isn't actually a believer, per se. he's trying to be, and it's extremely fragile and difficult ("you think believing is easy?"). scully is a natural devotee. she's catholic, born and bred, and feels most defined in faith. not just a belief: a completeness, a trust, a reliance. "based on spiritual apprehension rather than proof." (dictionary definition)

it's been addressed throughout the series, that despite her job as the skeptic, the one demanding evidence, she does not feel the need to prove what she believes in. she tells him that she believes in miracles, even if they can't be witnessed. when he asks what she would do to prove the existence of god, she says that she doesn't think about it. she doesn't think it can be proven. believing isn't difficult for her, isn't fragile, isn't frantic.

but "zealot" means "uncompromising," someone who fanatically pursues their beliefs and convictions. and it isn't belief in god, or dedication to the mission, that scully is violently committed to. signs & wonders is a religion-based episode, where they don't catch the killer. he safely moves to a new city to continue his work. but scully sits in “blessing, tennessee” and calls it a win, simply because she can say anything to him at all.

(collateral damage by audries: "he tells her he loves her, and she thinks someday she’ll tell him that the rest of the world is collateral damage. she’ll tell him that her prayers are selfish and that she is not the saint he thought, the savior he expected. she thinks she’d destroy the world for him, rather than save it, if it came to that...they’d wanted her to love the whole damn world, but she won’t. she wants it all narrowed down to one man in a dim basement and the way he falls asleep with his head in her lap, his restless hands and warm insistence and the way his coat gets darker and darker as he leaves her behind.")

it isn't steady, rational, commitment to her god or her family or her country ("i left behind a career in medicine to become an FBI agent four years ago because I believed in this country"), that she gives her last rights to on her deathbed. that she froze for in the artic, that she inked into her skin. it isn't to save the world that she gives up her child. her job. her home. her identity. and runs.

people tend to think of mulder as obsessive and myopic and that's true, it's hard to always be seeking. to always be following is terrifying.

[baronessblixen]

Little Sanguinarium prompt whenever you feel like it: Mulder to Scully: "Well, not everyone can say they're the most beautiful wherever they go."

UST-filled post-ep fic: Mulder thinks Scully is the most beautiful person wherever she goes. She doesn't believe him so he tries to make her see it his way. (wc: 1,258)

Tagging @today-in-fic @xffictober2023

Fictober Day 18: Beautiful In My Eyes

They’re working on their case report. At least in theory. Mulder is clearly not typing, his thoughts elsewhere. She’d like to be elsewhere too. It’s after 4 p.m. and she’s tired and hungry. Maybe a bit cranky. And much like Mulder, her thoughts aren’t at all on their most recent case. The one Skinner wants a report on. She sighs and Mulder’s head shoots up, his interest immediately piqued.

“Bored?” he asks.

“Tired,” she says.

“We can finish up tomorrow.”

“Something else might come up tomorrow. Mulder, I hate this as much as you do, but procrastinating is not going to help.”

He makes a noise and leans back in his chair, his hands behind his head.

“Have you ever thought about it?”

“Thought about what?” she asks, trying to make sense of what she’s already written.

“Getting plastic surgery.”

“Not seriously,” she says, thinking about the time she wanted to have bigger boobs. She was younger then. Much younger. “Have you?”

“With a nose like mine? Of course.” He holds his pen up to it as if trying to see how the two compare. She narrows her eyes, watching him.

“You surprise me sometimes,” she says. “Have you looked in a mirror?”

“Every once in a while,” he replies with a grin. “Are you saying I’m good-looking?”

“You know you are.” She clears her throat and hopes she’s not blushing too furiously. With her complexion, the slightest flush of her skin can reveal her true feelings. In high school, she could never keep her crushes a secret for long. Melissa always got it out of her because eventually, little red splotches would appear on her skin and make it obvious.

“And anyway,” she goes on, hoping Mulder will just let it go, “I think everyone wonders sometimes. What would it be like to be more beautiful? Just look at the cosmetic surgery industry. For some people that’s all that matters: to be the most beautiful person wherever they go.”

“Well, not everyone can say they're the most beautiful wherever they go,” Mulder says, cracking a sunflower seed between his teeth. “Not when they’re in a room with you.”

“Right,” she says, not taking him seriously at all. “We really need to finish this report, Mulder. Otherwise, we’ll never leave this office.”

“Did you hear what I said?” he asks. She’s staring down at the file, so she hears rather than sees Mulder round the desk and stop in front of her. She gets a whiff of his scent and wonders for a moment how he can still smell so good after a day at work.

“Scully? Did you hear what I said?” He’s not letting it go. Sometimes he’s more stubborn than a mule.

“I heard you,” she says, but doesn’t look up.

“You don’t believe me.” He’s not even asking; he knows.

“Mulder, I know I’m an attractive woman.” She finally meets his gaze. “But the most beautiful person? That’s a bit much.” He shakes his head, not once looking away from her.

“You are.” There’s more to what he’s saying, but it hangs in the air between them. She’s scared to reach for it.

“Can you drop this? Please? We need to finish this report.” That damn report. That damn case, too. That’s what brought his question on in the first place.

“In a second,” he says. “Why won’t you believe me?”

“I believe you, okay? Can we work now?”

“Your eyes,” he says, his voice so soft that it takes her breath away. “Before I knew you, I’d never seen eyes like yours. They’re so big and round. And Scully, they’re so blue. When I first met you, I thought of ice. But your eyes aren’t ice at all. They’re the color of the ocean you love so much.” She swallows hard, her mouth hanging open.

“Then there’s your nose. Did you know that the tip of your nose moves when you talk? Sometimes I can’t listen to anything you say because of it. But that could also be because of your lips.” He’s come closer and has crouched down. He’s level with her now and she feels frozen in place. For a moment she thinks, almost hopes, that he’s going to touch her. But the only part of him touching her are his eyes. She watches him as they wander to her lips. Instinctively, she licks them and sees a smile appear on his face.

“Hmm, yeah. That’s all I’m gonna say. And that’s just your face, Scully.” His eyes meet hers and she sees the honesty in his. Vulnerability. He’s letting her see a side of him she hasn’t seen before. He’s opening his heart to her. “If I wrote poetry, I could fill volumes with how beautiful you are. Your face, your body, and your mind. Oh, your mind. That might be the sexiest of them all."

“Because men are so attracted to intelligence."

"Well, I am." He's looking at her and not even blinking.

Mulder,” she whispers. “What are you doing?”

“Telling you the truth.” He shrugs. They don’t do this. They never do this. There have been moments when she thought about the two of them as more than partners. Sometimes out of fear or desperation. Many, many times out of sheer attraction. She knows they’re attracted to each other. She’s seen him look at her from time to time. But mostly, she’s chalked it up to her being around him every day.

She knows about the videos he watches and has seen the actresses that star in them. They’re tall and brunette. Sometimes blonde. Not once has she seen a redhead. She’s also seen him check out women while they were having lunch, or on case. Never a redhead there either. All of that makes her want to dismiss what he’s saying. Maybe he’s only doing this to flatter her so she’ll write the report on her own. If it weren’t for his eyes. She knows Mulder. Has had years now to study and get to know him. More than that, she knows the tell-tale signs of attraction. And right now, while Mulder is looking her in the eyes, his pupils are dilated.

“Are you doing this to get out of writing this report?” She just has to know.

“That thought never crossed my mind,” he says with a sweet smile. “Would that have worked?”

“No.” Mulder laughs and she’s tempted to give him a taste of his own medicine. Because she, too, could compose sonnets about how beautiful he is. Starting with his mind. Beautiful, brilliant mind. Then there are his puppy eyes, and his pouty, luscious lips.

“What are you thinking about?” he asks.

“The case,” she lies.

“Liar," he says, his face so close that the tip of his nose touches her. "Why would that case make you blush?” Now he's grinning at her. “Don’t worry,” he says, moving in even closer so that their mouths are only a hairsbreadth apart. “I won’t call you out on starting at my lips.”

“I wasn't,” she says with a gasp, despite having done exactly that.

“If you say so.” The moment breaks and he gets up to return to his own chair, to his part of the report. “Let’s finish this and I don’t know about you but I’m starving. Wanna join me for dinner?”

She’s definitely hungry. And she knows her hunger could be dangerous. Especially after everything he’s just said. And yet, she doesn’t even need to think about her answer.

“I’d love to.”

[slippinmickeys]

Belated Birthday wishes and a Prompt: Valley of the Sun

More about Mulder and crews actual dig site, discoveries there and more on the birth of their child. The excavation is the babies sand box.

1. They came back from the dig late, in high spirits, knees covered in grime. Everyone else was already in the mess, finishing up the last of their dinner. Scully had saved each of them a plate.

“You’re annoyingly pert,” Frohike said from beside her, handing one of the plates up to Byers, who accepted it with a smile.

“Yep,” said Langly.

“You’re annoyingly cagey, too,” said a grad student to a few approving chuckles.

“That’s because,” Mulder said, sitting down next to Scully with his own plate. “We found a jawbone today.”

The entire mess went quiet.

“Human?” asked Jennica, one of the new students that Scully liked best.

“Yes,” said Byers around a mouthful of bread.

“You’re kidding,” Scully finally said.

“Nope,” Mulder said. “Think we may have at least a partial skeleton.”

“We found pottery shards, too,” said Langly smugly.

Scully looked at Mulder in wonder.

“Show me,” she said.

2. Scully stood above the dig, waiting for Mulder to give her a hand down into the squared off pit. She was feeling pendulous lately, heavy. Their cot was hurting her hips. Still, she refused to leave the site.

“The local tribes give birth in the jungle all the time,” she would say. “I can do it, too.”

Mulder didn’t love it, but he respected her decision.

“Come on,” he said now, reaching up a hand.

She grasped it gratefully and let him hold her elbow, leading her along the walking path to the area where three different grad students were on their knees in the dirt.

“Just there,” he said quietly, and one of the students leaned back so that Scully could get a better look.

“I‘ll be damned,” she said, leaning onto her knees and squinting, trying to get a better look at the jawbone. “How old?”

“A thousand at least. Probably two.”

“Amazing.”

Mulder hummed an agreement.

“The teeth are intact,” she noticed.

“Yep,” Mulder said. “I’m hoping we can pull a genome.”

The walkie on Mulder’s hip blipped and he stepped away to talk to base camp.

Scully looked over the dig while he talked in a low voice and waved to Langly who was using the dry screen under a portable tent.

When Mulder came back, he squeezed Scully’s arm affectionately.

“Your surprise is almost here,” he said.

“My surprise?” Scully asked.

3. They stood on the riverbank and watched a couple of capuchins swinging away into the trees as the sound of an approaching motor slowly grew louder from downriver.

“You know I hate surprises,” Scully said nervously, keeping her eyes on the river bend for a first glance of the approaching boat.

“You’re going to like this one,” Mulder said with confidence.

Scully turned to give him an annoyed look.

“Ah,” he said, not taking his eyes off the river, and Scully turned to follow his gaze.

The boat was finally in view, being piloted by Martim as opposed to one of the local river men. There was a figure in the back of the boat that Scully couldn’t yet make out.

“Who is that?” she asked.

“Your midwife,” Mulder finally said, looking down at her with a smile.

“My-”

She cut herself off as the figure in the back of the boat finally came into focus.

“MISSY!” she shouted, as undignified a shout as the rainforest had ever heard. Her sister, beaming, waved at her from the stern of the little vessel.

4. “Breathe,” Melissa said, rubbing the small of Scully’s back. “Ten more seconds. You’re almost through this one.”

Her stomach was a tight knot of the purest pain. How did women survive this, she wondered, and then want to do it again?

Another few seconds and the pain eased and Scully exhaled, relaxing back into the cot.

“Did you bring the drugs?” She panted in her sister’s direction, her head rolling toward Melissa on the pillow. “I want the drugs.”

“Oh, it’s too late for that, little sister,” Missy said.

“It’s never too late for drugs,” said a voice from the tent flap.

Scully glanced up at Frohike, who stood there, hovering.

Melissa turned to him, giving him a serious look.

���Is he close?” she asked the little man in a quiet voice.

Frohike nodded.

“Get him here now,” Melissa said. “We don’t have a lot of time.”

“He’s just washing up,” Frohike said, then disappeared from the tent flap.

Mulder came through a minute later, toweling his hair dry.

“Heard you were trying to do this without me,” he said with a smile, tossing the towel to the floor and kneeling down next to the bed to take Scully’s hand.

“I didn’t think it would happen this fast,” Scully said, and could feel another contraction coming on, the pain so intense she let out a howl.

“I did,” Missy said under her breath.

Scully was too caught up in the grip of agony to give her any grief for it.

“I’m here now,” was all Mulder said, and took the washcloth from the dish next to the cot to wipe gently at Scully’s brow.

The contraction eased and Mulder turned to Melissa.

“How we doing?” Mulder asked.

Missy looked at her watch again and gave him a grim smile.

All of the sudden, the most intense urge to push overwhelmed Scully, a feeling as inevitable as gravity. She couldn’t have fought it if she tried.

“I’m feeling really pushy,” she said.

Missy immediately moved to the end of the cot.

“I’m going to check you,” her sister said. A moment later she looked up from in between Scully’s legs. “We’re at 10,” she said excitedly. “This is it.”

Thirty minutes later, all sounds of the rainforest went quiet, and a wet, warm, squalling newborn was placed on Scully’s bare chest. Her arms went around it, and she felt a burst of euphoria at the dump of oxytocin into her bloodstream. Oh, she thought. I want to do it again.

Mulder looked at them both with awe, tears in his eyes.

“Well?” said Melissa, who flitted her eyes up to Mulder briefly before turning her attention back toward Scully.

“We have a son,” Mulder said, breathlessly.

5. Scully emerged from the jungle path and out to the wide cleared area of the dig.

Mulder hailed her from twenty yards away, dismissing the group of students that had been clustered around him.

She met him halfway and he leaned in for a kiss.

“Where’s the boy wonder?” she asked, and Mulder turned to look over at a lower section of the dig where Frohike was hunched. The little man looked up and waved.

“Frohike’s in the dirt?” Scully asked, surprised.

“You’ll see,” Mulder grinned.

They made their way over to the lower pit, stepping around stacks of buckets and small canvas bags of tools.

“You guys finding anything?” Mulder asked as they leaned over to look in.

At the bottom of the small squared off pit sat Frohike, across from a two-year-old William, who was earnestly attacking something in the dirt with a two-inch brush.

“Bit of pottery, I think,” Frohike said proudly. “Kid’s a natural.”

Scully rubbed her stomach and smiled up at the boy’s father.

She hadn’t told him yet. Maybe she would tonight.

[asteraceae-blue]

20 questions for writers

Tagged by @bourbon-ontherocks, thank you friend!! ✒️📜

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

26

2. What's your total AO3 word count?

466,050, who the hell lets me talk that much?!

3. What fandoms do you write for?

GLOW, Sherlock, Stranger Things has made it in there, I was also diving into the Jurassic World fandom but got derailed. Older fandoms over on FF.net included Castle, Bones, and Crossing Jordan way back in the day

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

The Pull of My Heart to Yours

Five

Paragon

Be Prepared (co-written with the lovely @mizjoely)

Silk

5. Do you respond to comments?

I try to answer everyone! Sometimes I'll get busy and forget to respond, but I do my best to at least say thank you to everyone who comments

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

The angstiest? Probably Watching the World Burn

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

I think most of my fics have overall happy endings, but the two that are borderline saccharine are That's Life and Golden Repair. I basically ended them with a joyful, romcom soundtrack 🤮

8. Do you get hate on fics?

I have had some, unfortunately. It used to get to me a lot more, because, you know, we all do this for fun and for free. Now I just delete the comments and move on with my day 🤙

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Oh yeah. Ohhhhhh yeah. Typically romantic, sometimes angsty, occasionally plot-what-plot explicit. I let the story tell me what it needs, if you will.

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

Have not, but I still have a prompt in my Inbox for a GLOW/Sherlock crossover that I would like to get to at some point

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Sort of - years ago I had someone leave a comment on a fic telling me I was doing a bad job with a good idea, and then they took my idea and wrote their own fic (totally fine) and blasted me in the notes (not at all fine), so... that was fun.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Not yet!

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Ooh yes, @mizjoely and I have collaborated on Be Prepared and Furo and we had a blast with both. There is a (maybe?) abandoned fic with @miabicicletta that I would still love to finish if the world allows us... 🥺

14. What’s your all time favorite ship?

I like them all for different reasons, but I think Mulder and Scully will always be my OTP. And I haven't even written anything for them yet! I'm scared, they intimidate me 😬

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

I would really really like to finish Shelter From the Storm at some point, even though the franchise is basically done! The idea I had for it was waaaaay different than what they ended up doing in the last movie, and much, much darker. Maybe someday.

16. What are your writing strengths?

Too many ideas in my head and the audacity to think that people want to hear about them 😁

I do a decent job with keeping things in character, and having a plan for where the story is going so I can actually set things up properly. I think I have a pretty good eye for detail as well.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

If I'm having a hard time getting from one plot point to another, I get lazy and things get stilted. I'll bullshit my way through boring bits to get to the bits I really want to write.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

I try, guys. I really do. I do as much homework as I can with Google Translate, but I know it's not enough to get it right. I avoid other languages if I can.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

First ever ever? Hahaha Xena: Warrior Princess. First online published I think was Crossing Jordan

20. Favorite fic you’ve written?

Oh geez, that's tough - I honestly think it's a tie between Paragon and That's Life. I had the most fun writing both of those.

Tagging @miabicicletta, @mizjoely, @jomiddlemarch, and anyone else who wants to jump on this

[fairy-tales-of-yesterday]

First ten lines

Rules: share the first lines of ten of your most recent fanfics and tag ten people. If you have written less than ten, don’t be shy and share anyway

Tagged to play by @mrsmungus

Tagging @loubbies @kayedium-writes @mikaharuka @the-least-tactful-writer idk anyone else to tag so...

This isn't ten because i was getting tired of copying and pasting but here you go.

Is It A Dream

Mulder wondered where he went wrong. He was alone like he had been in the start, after Samantha he had always been alone. Then the FBI happened, and then Scully happened, and he hadn’t been alone, he hadn’t been fully alone in so long. Scully had almost left though, and he couldn’t blame her, he understood that he wasn’t a good person to be with. He had never been. It was a miracle that she had stuck with him for as long as she had, and she was still here beside him.

Till The End

Apollo was a simple god. Really, he was, at least compared to his father and his uncles, and Hermes there were so many things Hermes had in his realm. Sure, he liked flashy things, hot girls, hot guys, the sun, poetry, and all that jazz. Ok on second thought he wasn’t that simple, however considering he wasn’t the love god he felt like he knew love well. This is how Apollo knew that he was completely and utterly in love with… and he knew he had to write him the most beautiful haiku.

Even Through The Storm

Ace missed Nancy it had been so long since he had seen her, talked to her. It was fine though completely fine. He missed having someone who got him, not that Bess didn’t get him, it just wasn’t the same. The type of relationship Nancy and he had wasn’t the same, their connection ran deeper. He had thought that things would go back to what they were once the curse was broken but Nancy was still pulling away from them all. Hopefully, the revival of their game nights would help somewhat. He was heading to one right now, sort of, George and Bess were still on shift at the Claw but a storm was coming in so they didn’t expect there to be a lot of customers.

Moral of The Story

Gibbs thought about when Ziva "died" when he was first introduced to Tali, she was cute, he had to admit, and he wasn't even mad about his rules having been broken. He was sad though for DiNozzo, for how he was left to raise his daughter without Ziva. He had hoped that they would have been able to work it out but apparently, they hadn't. That wasn't his first thought.

Midnight Cookies

Honestly, they all should have expected this. Seven ADHD demigods were trapped together on a ship for hours on end. However, none of them could ever dream up the situation, that they had found themselves in. It all started with blue cookies, his moms’ blue cookies, he had a sudden craving for them in the middle of the night and he ventured down to where he knew the plates that would make whatever he wanted were. Sneaking quietly through the halls, he was so focused on being quiet that he wasn’t paying attention, and he ran right into Leo. Like dead on with Leo ending up on the floor.

Healing Isn’t Easy

It was over. Finally, almost over and she didn’t know how to feel. Lucy knew that she should feel relieved that it was finally over and that Rosalind was finally dead, but she didn’t feel like it was over. It was too good to be true. To easy, she had just been there one moment and then dead the next. Shot by someone hidden in the trees. She was dead, and Lucy was still here and she didn’t know how to feel about that.

Insomniac Ghosts

It was Christmas Eve, and Mulder had been planning on spending it staked out in his car, because his apartment had to be fumigated again. He hated Christmas, because of how commercialized it was, hence why he locked himself in his house, or worked from the 24th to the 25th. This year he couldn’t though, he didn’t know what to do, he couldn’t go home, and he still didn’t have the X-Files, and there was no way that he was going to stay here.

I Can Change You Can Change Everyone Can Change

He couldn’t do this he couldn’t leave her behind it just wasn’t something he could do he couldn’t walk away he couldn’t. The last time he walked away and left her behind on a tarmac, she ended up getting tortured in a terrorist camp. He couldn’t risk something happening to her again.

[finniestoncrane]

Outside Our Remit: Dano!RiddlerxReader

Putting the first chapter of this diabetic coma inducing, sickly sweet, soft Eddie work here and this link to AO3 where you can check for updates on the next two chapters.

Warnings for smut, fluff, language, angst, longing, and the stupid dumb trope of "we have to pretend to be in a relationship but we actually want to be in a relationship but we're too shy to do anything about it" because I hate myself lmao

Reader is afab, female presenting and identifying, and it also a fat babe 💚

“This is so far out of our remit it’s not even funny. I mean what do you think we are? The Mulder and Scully of forensic accounting? I don’t think even they did anything this stupid though.”

“Season six, episode fourteen or fifteen, I’m sure. Mulder and Scully pretend to be married to investigate mysterious disappearances in this weird planned community and-”

“Nerd.”

He muttered it so quietly under his breath, but you spun around to shoot him a disapproving glance. He was faced away from you, reading over some documents at the table. You could just tell, even from the back of him, that he was smirking to himself.

“Takes one to know one.” A weak response, but this was your favourite thing about your new job at one of the main firms in Gotham, the playful banter between you and Eddie.

You’d started there five months ago, and you latched onto him on your first day, much to his initial chagrin. He had later confessed to you that he thought it was a prank at first, that someone else had planned it with you in the morning, getting you in on a joke as way to initiate you into the ‘cool kids club’ (he obviously thought of work as an extension of high school, and there was trauma in there somewhere), pretend to be friends with weird, shy Eddie. But it was exactly this that had drawn you in. He was the only person who didn’t seem like a finance bro, who wasn’t ruthless or obsessed with talking investments and portfolios, the only one who seemed intelligent beyond the numbers and manipulation. In fact, the more you got to know him, the more you realised just how much he hated the others, hated money and what it did to people. Probably why he was in the forensic department.

Eddie loved puzzles. He had one pen he used on them, beautiful, clinical looking silver exterior and the ink was a deep green colour. It was always clipped to his shirt pocket, and he was oddly protective of it. He’d almost snatched it from you when he caught you using it once, before apologising profusely in a nervous and stammered manner. You later made it up to him by bringing him a coffee and a new puzzle book. He breezed through it. Always pen, because he never made a mistake. He was thoughtful, quiet, and polite in a way that made him seem like he was from a different time period. It made you giggle when he would pull out a chair for you in the break room, bring you a coffee and silently apologise for interrupting your work, hold every door open for you on the walk from your shared office to the exit, even holding his palm over the lift doors just in case they dared to close before you had time to get off.  

Everyone else had quickly forgotten about you, at least outside of the occasional snarky comments they made about you and Eddie. The two weirdos, basement freaks. Nerds. Despite having one of the more arguably important jobs at the firm, you were the outcasts together. And while you weren’t necessarily detectives, the fact that your job involved a fair bit of investigative work, solving puzzles much to Eddie’s delight, it felt like you were partners. The two of you made the little office you shared into a home. It was something Eddie wasn’t sure of at first, when you began bringing in little trinkets for your desk and putting some plants around the room. He even giggled at your pastel pink name plate for your desk, but changed his tune when you brought him in a matching pastel green one, Edward Nashtonetched into the front in a black font. He held it in his hands for a long time, mouth open slightly in a goofy smile. All he’d managed to get out was a hushed and breathy “thank you” before he turned away. You were sure you had seen his cheeks get flushed.

You were the epitome of the weird ‘domestic’ bliss that work-wives and work-husbands tended to create. You shared workloads, cases, bought lunch and coffees for each other, had inside jokes now too. But it had never gone further. Eddie was shy, he liked his space and privacy. He was more open now, sure, but it had taken him a long time to get there. And there were a lot of things about his past you still weren’t sure of. He knew everything about you though. You were an incorrigible rambler. It was nerves, maybe, or a need for someone to like you, although usually people were put off when you told them anecdotes that either went nowhere or were entirely inappropriate. An over-sharer without a filter. But Eddie was always interested. He always listened, perhaps because he preferred to listen than talk. The dynamic worked for you both. And he was great at listening, very active. He was encouraging, asking questions, but never intrusive. He laughed at your jokes, smiled when you told him how your night had been, what the weekend had involved. And he was sympathetic.

And you had misread that sympathy for deeper feelings only once, learning your lesson after a particularly awkward conversation. You had been discussing how you had no weekend plans again, mentioning that you wished you had a friend, or that you were in contact with your family, or that your family were better people who were worth being in contact with. The kind of joke that was intended to elicit a chuckle out of dark humour but instead had him furrowing his brows. He must have noticed that you had seen his concern and he placed a hand out onto the desk flat in front of him, staring at you across the surface, it seemed he was reaching out to you, past his monitor to your desk. And you put your hand on his, gently rubbing the back of it, and smiling. Your heart broke into a million little pieces when he snatched it back and cleared his throat.

“Sorry, I’m sorry. I didn’t want to interrupt you when you were discussing something so important but I…can I get the sticky notes?”

Even thinking about it now, and you thought about it a lot, was enough to make your eyes roll back into your head as you cringed and cursed yourself for being so awkward and dumb. You were worried it would ruin the only friendship you’d managed to form in who knows how long, but Eddie seemed just as keen to pretend it had never happened as you were. You were pathetically grateful for that, and you made sure to never step over that line ever again. And it was easy to do when Eddie was so completely and obviously uninterested. He never stared, his compliments were always above board and strictly about your work ethic and talents, and even when you were playfully teasing each other, the minute it verged into flirtation he would apologise and reaffirm that he was joking and move on.

Which is why it wasn’t unexpected that he hadn’t responded to your retaliation. Takes one to know one. Stupid.

Nothing made him happier than winning their silly, pretend arguments. He couldn’t ever let him know how competitive he was, or how irritated he became at losing, and it happened so rarely that it was never that much of an issue. More often than not though, he would have the upper-hand.

That’s what years of being relentlessly mocked, bullied and teased will do to you, I guess. You pick up a few things.

He pretended to look at the documents for a moment longer, trying not to relish in the silence that followed the awful comeback she had offered. He knew it was polite to just move on, he wasn’t a bad winner. He was forgiving, gentlemanly. Traits he prided himself in, especially at work, in the world where he had to pretend to be everything he wasn’t. A façade he had to keep up when she asked for help with a pretty big lead on the suspected (or frankly all but confirmed) money-laundering at The Iceberg Lounge. The idea was thrilling to him. Going against protocol, lying, disguised, entering a potentially risky place under risky pretences. Something stirred in his stomach when she brought it up over their lunch sandwiches. He had stopped chewing and looked up over the monitor of his desk to see her looking intently over hers. He had managed to remain convincingly in character as Edward Nashton, mild-mannered, forensic accountant, because she started rambling. At the speed of light, she was spewing out reasons it was a good idea and how they would be safe and wouldn’t it show everyone upstairs if we did something this big this cool this important and also she would go alone if he wouldn’t join her and then if something happened to her that would be his fault and she was sorry that was manipulative and she didn’t want to guilt him into doing something that made him uncomfortable but this is something she really needed and she only trusted him and-

She only stopped to breathe when he put a hand up, the other covering his mouth still full of food and attempting to chew and swallow quickly before he spoke.

“You better have a very good plan. Work on it this afternoon and see if you can’t convince me at four o’clock.”

She had squealed in glee, hands balled into little fists shaking at the side of her head in a tiny celebration. He quickly raised his monitor to hide his contented smile from her view. If nothing else, it bought him three hours of silence as she fervently worked on her pitch. He had managed to remain so focused in his work he hadn’t even noticed she had got up and was staring down at him from her side of the desk. Pretending not to notice, his eyes glanced to the lower corner of the screen. 15:58.

“I said four o’clock.”

She huffed and slumped her shoulders before beginning to collect her things and tidy her papers up on the desk. Hands still typing, he let his eyes wander up from the screen. As she bent over to sort through the mess (good lord she was so untidy, it drove him insane, his apartment was organised chaos, sure, but he kept his workplace obsessively tidy) he could see the buttons on her shirt straining around her breasts, a miniscule section of cleavage visible for a quarter of a second each time she reached her soft arms forwards to pick up something else.

“Fudge.”

A sheet of paper floated gently to the floor and he pretended not to notice as he continued typing up his notes. Out of the corner of his eye, straining his field of vision and trying hard to stay looking forward, he tried to watch her thighs as she bent down gracefully. They were his favourite thing about her. Above her adorable, chubby cheeks, her soft and messy hair, her silly little nose, her naturally pink lips, more than her hips, her breasts, her stupidly large rear. Her thighs, thick and smooth looking below her tights. When she sat down, they spread out on the surface and all he thought about was how he wanted her to wrap them around him, he legs, his hips, his head.

…would be a heavenly way to die…

He always sang that one line to himself as he watched them, imagining their movements in slow motion as she walked up the stairs or down the corridor in front of him. He had always very much considered himself an appreciator of curvier women. It suited his personality, he felt. He was shy, he felt unattractive, and someone impossibly soft and squishy to hold him tight would feel like being encircled by marshmallow clouds, filling a need for physical comfort that had never been filled. And he was lustful, so inclined to be rough, desiring to grab, cling, dig his fingers into soft skin, rub his face along a soft belly, to delight in watch breasts, ass, skin bounce around his movements as he thrust frantically and hungrily.

16:02. He stretched out his fingers and swivelled his chair, trying to seem like he was in command, to face her as she looked up at him, meekly, from the floor.

“Ok, convince me.”

“So…thoughts?”

He hadn’t said anything for a couple of minutes. As you told him the plan and refreshed him on the background of the assignment, he had been listening so intently. He could have been humouring you, just being his usual polite self, but you saw his eyebrows raise more than once. But he wasn’t saying anything now. This meant a lot to you, and as stress and anxiety set in you went into panic mode. By force of habit, your mouth opened and everything that was rushing around your brain spilled out.

“I know it’s risky, and it might be a bit dumb too. But no one needs to know we went there. It’s not really a written rule is it? We’re not breaking a law by going for a drink, and if we happen to notice anything suspicious or get chatting to a waitress or bartender and they happen to spill something we can use in a case, that’s just a coincidence, right? And for all anyone at the firm needs to know, we were on a date!”

You took a shaky breath in.

“And also, I feel like I should just say…if you’re uncomfortable with that aspect of the plan, you really can say no. I know we’re friends, but I also know from experience, or what little of it I’ve had, that I’m not exactly date material a-and…if you’d be embarrassed that someone might see us together, I understand and I really really won’t be offended.”

Your heart sank in your chest as he opened his mouth, but no words followed. You wanted to shrink into nothingness and disappear.

Embarrassed? Embarrassed to be seen with her?

Eddie was taken back, stunned into silence at the implication. If he hadn’t settled on the fact that it might have been an offensive proposal, he had almost considered paying her to show up with him at a high-school reunion two months back. He lived in fantasy, concocting scenarios of revenge in his head to settle his emotions, and this was a rich one he’d thought of almost nightly from when he got the invitation until the week before, when he decided not to ask and neglected to RSVP.

He'd walk into the room, and the music would quieten down, like a movie. Everyone would be whispering.

Isn’t that Eddie?

Hey, that’s Nashton the freak!

What’s he doing with a girl like that?

He must be rich now?

He must be great in bed!

I wish I’d given him a chance now. I wish I hadn’t rebuffed him. I wish I’d let him play on the team. I wish I hadn’t told the teacher he was staring down my blouse that time. I wish I’d let him show me his cool board games. I wish-

But it was too late to wish. They’d missed out, and now they had to watch him walk in, with the most beautiful girl in the room on his arm staring up at him adoringly. They wouldn’t talk to anyone. They were there for the free drinks, the excuse to dance, and she’d kiss him in front of everyone under the lights, unashamed to be seen with him. Maybe he’d fight someone at the bar who was trying to flirt with her, or maybe she’d rebuff Ricky, who had been the source of most of his degrading humiliations.

Why would I ever want to be with a loser like you when I’m perfectly and completely happy with Eddie? He’s better than you in every way. He’s cool, and funny, and smart, and handsome. And you’re nothing.

She’d spit the words at him and storm out, and he’d look up dejectedly from the floor to see Eddie laughing at him from across the hall.

The perfect revenge. But it was a sad little dream, and it would never happen. Or so he thought, because here she was proposing basically the same thing. And his heart seemed like it was never going to stop beating, like it might actually pop and kill him, which would be just his luck. And as he struggled to breathe, unable to even find the words, he could see she looked embarrassed at the suggestion. He had to say something before she-

“Nevermind, Eddie. I’m really sorry I even said anything. It was wrong of me to put you in this kind of situation, and please believe me that if you had said no, I wouldn’t have held it against you, we would have still been bud-”

“Let’s do it. Not it…I mean the plan, let’s do the plan, your plan. Let’s do…your plan.”

She breathed a sigh of relief, a breathy half-laugh following it.

“Thank you, Eddie. I promise I’ll duck out of the way if anyone you know spots us!”

Before he could muster the courage to interrupt her, to tell her that he would be more than happy to walk in and announce to everyone there, loudly and unabashedly, that she was his date, she had gone back to her seat. Sadness panged in his chest. Her self-image made him sad, and he vowed to make an attempt to change it. But when she looked up from the desk, eyes staring at him, a smile making her cheeks puff up, he lost all nerve and looked away quickly, cursing himself.

You tapped your pen nervously, repetitively on the table. Eddie looked up at you, leaned forward and raised an eyebrow.

“Sorry…”

He smiled at the silence and lowered the monitor, waiting for you to speak. Your stomach flipped, pleasantly, as you realised that he knew the tapping meant you had something to say. He knew you so well.

“I was just thinking, we should come up with pet names for each other. Just to…make it seem more authentic. Is that stupid? That is stupid. Please ignore me.”

“No, no! I think it’s actually sensible. It means we don’t have to use our names. What do you want to be called?”

You tried to suppress a huge grin and squirmed a little in your seat.

“I don’t know…what would you call a girlfriend?”

“I wouldn’t know. I…I’ve never had one.”

“Ok but if you did, what would you use? It usually comes organically I suppose, but please don’t feel like you have to come up with something that’s specifically for me.”

“Snookums.”

“Oh, Eddie.” You laughed, and just as you felt bad for your outburst you saw that he was chuckling too. “Thank goodness you realised how dreadful that was.”

“It’s my first time, cut me some slack, please.”

The thought alone was sweet enough to knock you into sugar high there and then. Sweet Eddie, shy Eddie. He’d never had a girlfriend? You found it so reasonable and yet completely ridiculous. He was so cute, with his tidy, sensible haircut and his oddly stylish glasses that complimented his delightfully round head so nicely. He had nice hands, a nice butt, and he was almost unbearably kind and gentle and understanding. How no one had bothered to push past his initially reserved and almost cold outward projection to get to all of that was beyond you. But you were grateful that no one had.

“Ok, I’ll go first. How about babe…or baby?”

“No, I don’t like that. Too…mainstream?” He screwed his face up at the suggestion.

“Sweety?”

His face remained the same.

“Daddy?” You made a stupid face, raising your eyebrows way too high in an attempt to make it very obvious you were joking.

“I…don’t think I’m daddy material…”

“I disagree.” In shock that it had even come out of your mouth, you stayed looking at the desk, avoiding eye contact at all costs. You hoped he knew you well enough to know to ignore it and move on, and luckily he did just that. “How about…teddy?”

“Teddy…Eddie?”

“Yeah! Simple, easy to remember?”

“Ok…I could learn to like that. Just for this evening of course.”

“Of course!” You blushed. “Ok, have you got anything better than snookums?”

“Hmm…I guess it depends what kind of boyfriend I am. And I feel like to fit in somewhere like the Iceberg Lounge I’ll have to pretend to be…”

“A total asshole?”

“Exactly. So I was thinking, and please, feel free to veto this, because I feel silly and morally repugnant just saying it.”

“Eddie, spit it out.”

“Sweet cheeks.”

You bit the inside of your lip.

“Are you stifling a laugh? I told you it was stupid.”

“No, it’s perfect! It really is. You’ll have to play it off convincingly though.”

“If you keep laughing at me, I won’t find it so hard to be rude to you.”

You both smirked, tension building between you that was easy for you both to ignore and dismiss as nerves at the task ahead.

“I can pick you up from your apartment later. Say around nine?” You nodded, not too enthusiastically so as not to give yourself away, the excitement drowning your sense.

“It’s a date then.”

For the next hour, you worked silently, trying not to glance at him as he worked. Watching the way his hair flopped into his face when he was writing his frantic notes, how he pushed his glasses up his nose. A couple of times he had almost noticed you, but you were sure you hadn’t been caught. The last thing you wanted to do was weird him out, just as you had him where you wanted him. Not that this evening was a ruse just to get closer to him, but it had worked out nicely in that it might be a good way to finally get Eddie to loosen up, to see him outside of work.

At exactly five o’clock you both switched off the monitors on your desks. Eddie fumbled with his pens and papers, neatening up his desk.

“You coming Teddy?” You winked at him, starting another war of teasing. You turned to walk out the door before he could retort, but he got it in just in time, making your knees weak as you headed to the elevator.

“Right behind you, sweet cheeks.”

[silhouetteofacedar]

Fox Mulder, Closet Romantic Ch. 10: One With Everything

Previous Chapter - AO3 - MSR, rated E

Thursday, April 30.

Mulder and Scully don’t often get to spend a day in court; it almost feels like a treat. An exhausting, headache-inducing, occasionally disheartening treat.

The only real upside is that they usually drive together.

They’re in Baltimore, and even though the drive back to the office is less than an hour, Mulder can feel his energy flagging.

“You hungry?” Mulder asks, sliding into the driver’s seat. “We can grab dinner before we head back.”

“Mulder, I’m wiped out,” Scully sighs.

“Alright,” he replies, subdued. He puts the keys in the ignition and starts the car.

They’ve gone two blocks when Scully speaks again. “I could go for pizza,” she says softly.

Mulder takes a steadying breath. This is progress.

It’s only been a week since the Great Mark Implosion, and things between Mulder and Scully have been thawing slowly. There’s residual awkwardness around them, like the last compacted piles of old snow in the shady places on the sides of the road. Slow to melt, but not a real impediment.

They find a little brick hole-in-the-wall pizza shop not far from the district courthouse. Scully took an appraising sniff when they walked in, declared the scent inside “pizza enough”, and they proceeded to make their order.

“So, how’ve you been?” Mulder asks. It’s a stupid question, but he’s hungry and tired and a little nervous, picking the mushrooms off of his slice of pizza before taking a bite. Scully always insists on ordering one with everything. Thank god she hates anchovies.

“You tell me,” she replies. “You’ve seen me practically every day for the past week.” She takes a first bite of pizza and moans softly. Mulder’s cheeks warm at the sound.

“I mean… in regards to what happened last Wednesday,” he clarifies. Broaching this subject feels suddenly dangerous, and he wants to take his words back.

“You can say break-up, Mulder,” she says gently. “It’s not a secret. And I’m fine,” she says, chewing, then raises a finger. “I know historically I say that when I’m not fine, but I mean it this time,” she explains. “I’m not hurt, just… disappointed. Tired. A little annoyed.”

“With him, or me, or both?” Mulder asks.

She shrugs. “Both,” she says candidly. “But you provided me with sustenance, so my annoyance with you is diminishing.” She takes a sip of diet Coke before she continues. “I’ve been thinking, and I’ve determined that the part of this that bothers me the most is the fact that Mark, or anyone, would base their summation of my character off my sexual history. I’m thirty-four years old, a fully-matured and capable human being, and yet I felt like I was stuck in a web of high school gossip. It’s insulting, being subjected to outdated moral codes by men who have no business passing judgement.”

“I have an impertinent question,” Mulder says. “You don’t have to answer.”

“I’m bracing myself,” she replies, taking another bite of pizza.

“From an outsider’s perspective, these outdated moral codes and judgment seem like a fundamental part of Catholicism. So I guess I’m wondering… why are you still Catholic?”

Her answering sigh is deep and slow. “That’s a big question, Mulder; one I ask myself all the time. I think it boils down to faith. I believe in God; everything else is just window dressing. My relationship with my faith, with religion, is complicated. But ultimately, that’s between me and God. Everyone else, namely Mark, can fuck off.”

He loves her so much in this moment, this tiny self-possessed scientist voraciously eating pizza. “Fair enough,” he says, removing another mushroom from his slice of pizza and putting on the edge of her plate. “So faith in God is intact; faith in men, however…”

Scully chuckles. “It’s at a low plateau,” she jokes, “and yet this may actually be the best break-up I’ve ever had.”

“Ouch,” Mulder says with a wince. “I’d hate to imagine the worst.”

“I egged a guy’s car once,” she says around a bite of pizza.

“No, really?” Mulder asks in surprise. “What’d he do?”

She swallows, wipes her fingers on a crumpled napkin. “Let me be clear, this was when I was in high school,” she says, “So all the emotions were heightened. My boyfriend cheated on me,” she explains. “I was seventeen and wanted to wait to have sex, and he didn’t. It was pretty traumatic for teenage Dana, so I reacted with criminal mischief.”

“Did you get caught?”

Scully shakes her head, picking up one of the stray mushrooms on her plate and popping it in her mouth. “No. I was stealthy,” she says. “And a good church girl. I think most people assumed it was a dumb teenage prank by some local boys.” She pauses. “In fact, I don’t think I’ve ever told anyone this,” she says in realization.

“Your secret is safe with me,” Mulder vows, passing her another mushroom.

“So what about you?” she asks, serving herself another slice of pizza. “What sort of romantic entanglements did you get into in high school? Any horror stories?”

“Not much,” Mulder says with a shrug. “Though I was pretty in love with a girl when I was sixteen or so. Her name was Laura and she was the older sister of one of my friends; I think she was probably 18? I was at their house all the time but I hardly ever talked to her.”

“Why not?”

“I was, uh, actually pretty shy back then,” he admits. “Especially with girls. She was really pretty and kind, but every time I opened my mouth to speak I’d get nervous and end up just saying nothing. Once I almost threw up.”

“That’s actually very sweet,” Scully assures him. “Trust me, she probably thought you were adorable.” She chews thoughtfully. “Did you ever tell her how you felt?”

Mulder shakes his head. “Not really. I wrote her a letter confessing my feelings and was halfway to their house to leave it in the mailbox when I chickened out. I took it home and burned it in the kitchen sink. Then she left for college.”

Scully hums in understanding. “A tale as old as time.”

“I looked her up once, after I finished at Oxford. She was married with a baby,” Mulder says, chewing a piece of crust. “Nothing would have happened if she weren’t, but part of me kind of wondered.”

Scully is silent, and when he looks up at her she’s got her cheek cradled in her hand, a soft smile on her lips, watching him.

“What?” he asks, suddenly self-conscious.

Her eyes are gleaming. “I don’t know why it never occurred to me before, but… you’re a romantic, Mulder.”

He swallows. “Is that... is that a bad thing?”

She drops her hand, shakes her head. “No, it’s not a bad thing at all,” she says softly.

Scully’s face is awash with blue and red from the neon sign in the window, and her eyes are deep and glimmering. He has to look away to steady himself before he says something he’s not ready for her to hear.

“I think I assumed you dislike romance,” he says, dipping a toe into shallower, yet unexplored waters. “It seems to me that science is somewhat at odds with the concept, when you can explain away all these feelings as chemical reactions with evolutionary precedent.”

“These feelings?” she asks, and he freezes.

“Romantic feelings in general,” he clarifies, recovering quickly. “The heart palpitations, fluttering stomach, desire for physical contact, all those things we felt as teenagers.” All those things I’m feeling right now.

“Some things aren’t meant to be examined through a purely scientific lens,” she counters. “I also firmly believe in instinct and trusting your gut in certain cases. Hell, that’s why I broke things off with Mark. No matter what he said, I knew things didn’t feel right.”

Mulder’s puzzled. “What he said?” he asks.

Scully licks her lip. “When I called him after work,” she explains. “I told him what you told me, and he claimed you twisted his words. A misunderstanding, coupled with manipulation born of jealousy,” Scully sighs.

Mulder’s heart stutters. “And you didn’t believe him?”

“No, I didn’t. It was his word against yours,” she says, voice gentle and firm. “There was no question.”

Mulder feels the weight of her words drape over his shoulders like a warm blanket. She trusts him, believes in him, chooses him.

He’s floored.

“Scully, that offer to elope still stands,” he says with a grin, and she smiles back.

Scully predictably falls asleep on the drive back to DC. Mulder glances over at her periodically, drinking in the sight of his partner curled up in the passenger seat. Her head is resting against the window, rosy cheek pillowed on a small hand.

Scully trusts him, rests in his presence, weighs his words. He doesn’t deserve what she gives him, but he realizes then what he needs to do anyway; fear and uncertainty be damned.

She deserves the truth; she is the truth.

[sisterspooky1013]

Only One Choice, Chapter 5

Read it here on AO3 / Tagging @today-in-fic

They’re sitting in the car outside her mother’s house, and she’s stalling.

“Are we going inside?” Ethan asks with a confused smile, and she nods wearily.

She’s been dreading telling her family. Well, not her mother; Mom will be thrilled, as will Bill. Charlie will act appropriately happy but doesn’t actually care that much. But Missy….Missy will see right through her. She always does.

They exit the car and make their way to the front porch, her stomach twisting in her gut all the way. Ethan knocks, casting her concerned glances intermittently. She knows she’s not playing the part of “recently engaged” very well. She’s told Ethan that it’s just nerves, and that she hates making big announcements, which is true. She’s still trying to convince herself that’s all it is.

The door swings open and Charlie greets them with smiles and quick hugs, and they make their way to the kitchen where Mom is still finishing up dinner.

“Grab some wine and take a seat,” she directs them as they each kiss her on the cheek, “Missy should be here any minute.”

She pours herself a very full glass of wine after asking Ethan if he can drive home, then plants herself in an armchair that only seats one. She’s been craving personal space lately.

Ten minutes later, Missy breezes in the door, giving Dana a skeptical glance; leave it to Missy to immediately pick up on something being off. They better get this over with soon.

They all sit down and say grace. Missy holds her left hand and she can feel the moment her fingers make contact with the ring. Missy yanks on her arm and gives her wide eyes as everyone else at the table thanks the lord for their daily bread. Dana glances at her briefly and then looks away. It will all be out in the open momentarily.

“Before we dig into this lovely meal Mom has prepared for us,” Ethan begins, “Dana and I have some news to share.”

Oh god, here it comes. Maybe the huge glass of wine was a bad idea.

“Am I gonna be an uncle, D?!” Charlie says excitedly, and both she and Maggie shoot him an unamused glare.

“Not just yet, Charlie,” Ethan says with a cautious smile. “Dana and I got engaged. We’re getting married!”

Dana holds up her left hand with a thin smile, and Maggie and Charlie both provide appropriately big, happy reactions complete with hugs and congratulatory slaps on the back. Missy raises her eyebrows and looks at her baby sister with a bemused expression.

“Oh, this is such happy news, I wish your father could be here,” Maggie says, clutching her hand to her chest. “We’ll have to call Bill and Tara after dinner.”

Dana forces bites of pot roast down her throat and avoids her sister’s eye for the following twenty minutes, then leaves Ethan and her mother to share the news with Bill as she escapes to the back porch. Charlie, as usual, finds his way to the couch with a beer.

She’s sitting on the steps of the porch, working on her second glass of wine, when she hears the creak of the screen door behind her. She doesn't need to look to know that it’s Missy; she can hear the swish of her flowy skirt and the jangle of her stacked bracelets. Missy sits down beside her and they are quiet for a few minutes, the dark night illuminated by a waxing crescent moon.

“Is this really what you want, Sis?” Missy asks in a tone that’s soft and concerned.

“Of course, Missy. Ethan and I have been talking about getting married for years,” she says, hoping it sounds more convincing than it feels.

“I know. But…” she trails off and sighs.

“But what?” Dana prods her.

“Look, Sis, Ethan is great. I love him, and he’ll make a great husband. I’m just not sure he’s the right one for you.” Dana can feel her sister looking at her in the dim light, but keeps her eyes on the blooming hydrangea bush at the bottom of the stairs.

“He’s a great guy, Missy. He’s kind, and generous, and he has a stable job. He treats me really well. There’s no reason NOT to marry him,” she offers, taking a big gulp of her wine. “Dad loved him, he’d be so happy to know we got married,” she adds.

Missy scoffs. “Two years underground and you’re still trying to please Dad?”

“He was cremated, Missy,” she replies deadpan, avoiding the point.

“Okay, so two years underwater, then. Doesn’t change the fact that Dad liking him isn’t a reason to marry someone. Neither is them being great husband material. The only reason to marry someone is because you want to marry them. Do you want to marry Ethan?” She can feel Missy’s eyes on her face.

“Yes,” she says in a weak voice, unwilling to elaborate.

Missy sighs. “Okay, if this is what you want, I’ll be here to help you in whatever way you need. But if you change your mind-”

“-I’m not going to change my mind, Missy,” she cuts her off.

“Well,” Missy continues, “whatever happens, I’ll be here. Thick and thin, right?”

Dana looks at her sister then, and smiles as they clasp hands. “Thick and thin.”

&&

The following week, she takes herself out for Sunday afternoon coffee to one of her favorite places near the apartment. She likes to go out alone for coffee or lunch sometimes, just to have some space to think. Lately, she’s been needing a lot of it. The cafe is bustling with the after-church crowd, which makes her feel guilty for not going to mass with her mother. It’s difficult to talk to Mom right now; all she wants to do is talk about the wedding, and that’s the last thing Dana wants to discuss. Ethan wants to get married soon, this fall, and the whole thing is so overwhelming she shuts down every time they try to talk to her about it. She wishes she could pause life for a while, until she can sort out her feelings.

“Fancy meeting you here,” she hears a familiar voice call from beside her, and she looks up to see Mulder, dressed casually in jeans and a grey T-shirt.

She smiles reflexively, the first time she’s felt a real smile tug at her lips in a week or more.

“Mulder, hi,” she says, genuinely pleased to see him. “What are you doing here?”

“Oh, this place is right near my dealer’s house,” he responds, and flashes her that boyish grin at her shocked expression. “I was actually just checking out a record store around the corner and decided to grab some coffee. How are you?” The question feels so real, like he actually wants to know how she is. She doesn’t want him to leave.

“I’m well, would you like to sit down?” she says as she gestures to the empty seat across from her, pulling her hand back when she realizes that he’ll likely notice her ring. She surreptitiously slips it off her finger and tucks it into her pants pocket.

He sits, and she can’t help but take in the way his shirt hugs his broad shoulders, and the hint of defined pectorals underneath. He is a seriously good-looking man.

“So, whatcha been up to?” He asks, taking a sip from his to-go cup.

She should tell him the happy news that she’s gotten engaged, but she very much doesn’t want to.

“Not much, just cutting up dead bodies and teaching others how to do the same,” she responds dryly.

“Slicin’ and dicin’,” he says with a nod, and she feels a sense of relief at being able to make such a crass joke to someone who understands the kind of work she does.

“Exactly. How about you, working on anything interesting?” she asks, and never has a social nicety been more genuine.

“That depends on your definition of interesting, I suppose,” he begins, “we’ve got the face mutilator, the acid thrower, and the super-stabber, who you’re familiar with.”

“Quite the line up,” she retorts.

“I realize I didn’t get the chance to ask how you ended up at the Academy,” he inquires.

“Oh, um I was actually recruited out of medical school,” she replies, taking a sip of her coffee.

His eyebrows jump and he leans forward a bit. “You’re a doctor, then?” he asks, and she gauges only that he’s impressed, not surprised, which is a nice change of pace. People don’t seem to realize that it’s not a compliment to express disbelief that she, of all people, would be a medical doctor.

“Mmhmm, all pathologists are trained medical doctors,” she confirms with a nod.

“Your parents must be very proud,” he offers, and she makes a face.

“Not exactly. My father actually passed away a couple years ago, but he was less than pleased with my decision not to pursue medicine as a career. My mom is moderately more supportive, thankfully.”

She catches his eye and is surprised by the intensity of the look he’s giving her.

“I’m sorry to hear about your father,” he says as though he knew the man, and it catches her off guard a bit. She changes the subject.

“What about the X files, anything interesting happening there?”

“Well, no, given that they don’t exist anymore. You wanna hear about an old one I investigated?”

She nods emphatically.

“There was this team of researchers up in Icy Cape, Alaska. They were geophysicists, drilling ice core samples. They’d been up there a few weeks when there was an odd video communication received from one of the research team members saying “we are not who we are” before he shot himself in the head, then all communication went dark.”

“What happened to them?” Scully asks, leaning towards him. She’s immediately drawn in.

“Well, that’s what we went up there to find out; myself a physician, toxicologist and a geologist. When we got there, the whole crew was dead, only a dog that belonged to one of them survived. He appeared to be rabid, and he attacked me and our pilot. When we examined the dog, he had these black nodules on his skin.”

“That sounds like a symptom of bubonic plague,” Scully offers.

“That’s what Dr. Hodge thought too. Anyway, the pilot ended up getting infected as well, and we had to restrain him and remove this worm-thing from his neck. He died immediately after we removed it.”

“A worm-thing?” Scully asks, “what was it?”

“I’m still not entirely sure. The geologist found an ice core sample that was probably over 250,000 years old, and I think the worm came from the ice. Some kind of prehistoric parasite that overtakes its host. We eventually figured out that to kill it, you have to introduce a second worm into the host, and they’ll destroy each other.”

“Why haven’t I ever heard about this? It seems like the kind of discovery that would make the news, at least in the science community,” her mind is reeling, now with excitement.

“Well, that’s the thing. After we were evacuated, they destroyed the drill site and all the evidence.”

“They?” she inquires. “Who is ‘they’?”

Mulder smiles knowingly and she has the overwhelming urge to touch him.

“That’s the million dollar question, Scully. That’s what the X files sought to answer. Who, or what, is behind the mass coverup of information that would prove the existence of extraterrestrial life?” He says it so casually, like it’s the most irrefutable fact in the world instead of some half-cocked conspiracy theory.

“Huh,” she sits back in her chair. “Are there a lot of cases like that one? In the X files?”

Mulder’s mouth quirks, and she can tell that he’s pleased by her interest in his old work.

“Hundreds, though I only have about fifty in my possession. I took the juiciest ones, of course.”

“What else is there? Tell me about another one,” she asks unabashedly. She’s fascinated.

Mulder looks at his watch and makes a face. “I wish I could, but I have a prior engagement. I have them stored at my apartment, I could show you sometime, if you’d like. Do you like cats?”

Her eyebrows lift. “Is there an X file about cats?” she asks, and he laughs.

“No. Well, actually yes, but I’m asking because I have a cat. You aren’t allergic, are you?”

“Oh, no,” she says as she feels her cheeks warm.

He reaches into his wallet and hands her his business card. “Give me a call, or shoot me an email. I’ll show you what the FBI doesn’t want you to see,” he punctuates this with a wag of his eyebrows as he stands. “It was really good to see you, Scully,” he says with an earnest look, those eyes seemingly seeing right through her.

She swallows hard. “You too, Mulder,” she replies, and watches him walk out the cafe door.

She looks down at the business card in her hands:

Fox W. Mulder

Criminal Behavioral Analyst

Behavioral Science Unit

She wonders what the W stands for. She wonders why she cares.

[waynedunlaptheorgandonor]

can i say a sort of pointless rambly thing i was thinking about that i can't put under the cut bc i'm on mobile?

jk, i'm not actually asking. ramble below, not edited for clarity. the following is completely unclear and i will not fix it:

i've been thinking about how part of the reason i'm so chill about caryl is bc growing up as a queer woc 99% of my main ships were like, never gonna fucking happen bc they literally couldn't. it was like, "omg, they gazed at each other from across the room, let's analyze the homosexual subtext of this one scene for the next fifty years, that's not necessarily hyperbole." i've watched all my ships fuck other ppl/have other love interests, and i knew that my thing was never gonna be canon, so to see like, one thing being like, "one half of my ship fucked another person several years ago while pining for the other half of my ship," i'm like...#nice, bc that can and likely will be used as a plot point to get them together later on, whereas in other situations i've been in i just kinda had to deal with it. so my impulse when i see ppl losing their shit is to be like

and to be slightly annoyed, tbh, bc the ship is still on track to be canon, and it's like, literally two white heterosexuals, they're prime candidates for juicy angsty pining that actually gets a resolution.

but!

that being said, i recognize that that attitude isn't necessarily fair. for one thing, i'm not the only queer woc (or some variation thereof) in this fandom, and some ppl's impulse might be exasperation instead, bc like, "wtf, even my mayohet ship has dumb fucking drama," and that's valid as hell, and i get it.

and also, i get that, even if you didn't grow up shipping impossible ships (or mulder/scully, bc that's a brand of bullshit all its own), this has been a suuuuper drawn out process where sometimes it feels like they're legit sprinkling crumbs to keep you hooked, just to play you again, and when you are invested in something, like /rly/ invested, especially if it's a form of escapism or hyperfixation or whatever, that can be e x h a u s t i n g. and i get that. i truly do, and while i make a lot of snide comments about the fandom being bonkers, i do get where the bulk of you are coming from (unless you're one of those ppl who hate on actors and esp actresses for just doing their jobs, and attack them on social media, in which case i am very much judging you and you need to get your life together).

i also realize that in the scheme of things i'm still a newbie. i've been here, what, twoish/threeish years, whereas some of you have been here since the beginning, so i'm not as worn out as y'all. but i also think that gives me a bit of objectivity that some of y'all have (understandably) lost.

my positivity is not meant as a sleight against those of you who are feeling negative, but is more of a semi-objective viewpoint (i say semi, bc lbr, i'm invested af in this, so i definitely have bias), and to me the threads of the storyline they're crafting seem sort of obvious.

like, let's look at it, yeah? they have one season left of this show that has been on for over a decade. they need to cater to everyone to give them a satisfying ending, while still hanging on to carylers bc of the spin-off. darylrreah seems like a very calculated move, bc it gives them both something to make abcers happy, while also creating tension and suspense and pining for carylers (i think they might underestimate just how fed up some carylers are tbh, and are banking on us to hang on for one last ride, which, honestly? if they play it right will probably work.)

if they end up doing a dumb love triangle thing, which, without seeing the episode and gauging the subtext i can't confidently say if i think they will or won't, it will ultimately end in our favor. it has to, bc leah isn't going to third wheel them on the bike in the spin-off. we can say with good authority that whatever that relationship ends up being (again, idk if they'll drag it out or not) it will be temporary. which leaves caryl open to ride off into the sunset and then bone down in every state in the united states and in puerto rico for good measure.

it's a lot of cheap drama, but i really and truly do not think it's anything to worry about, and i still really and truly trust kang to not make it out of character. ik ppl still don't agree with me on that point, and i'm not gonna argue, but to me it really does make perfect sense.

and i also predict that they are gonna play it up hardcore in the promotional shit and talking dead, but when that happens, remember it's bc it gets attention. regardless of where the story is ultimately going, relationship drama gets attention, which gets viewers, which gets amc and twd producers nice and comfy with full pockets

idk. to sum up ig i just wanted to clarify that i don't mean any harm with my relentless positivity. my history in fandom has just made this seem like nothing in comparison, bc while ppl are freaking out, i'm like, "oh damn, they're actually gonna get together by the end of this, aren't they? i didn't know that could happen!" and that makes me excited instead of upset

and you definitely don't have to listen to me. maybe i'm actually wrong. maybe i'm completely full of bullshit and am just good at making things sound confident. i got a lot of As on papers in college over books i never read, i know how to bs. but i also know how to analyze, and i while i will be the first to tell you i am not the best at a great many things, i do know that i am good at critically analyzing text while taking into account the context it was written in, and imho all signs point to canon caryl. when, i'm not entirely sure, but i see it happening. if it doesn't then they severely fucked up their storytelling, and that'd just be bad writing on their part.

(if you want proof that i'm good at reading writers'/producers' intentions, consider that i watched like, 8 seasons of supernatural before giving up, and said to myself, "i think they're gonna make destiel canon, but not until the very last second bc they are rly into catering to their fans but also have to consider their dumb fanboy audience so they can't do anything crazy overtly gay," and guess who hit the nail on the fucking head on that one)

none of this is important, but it was rattling around my mind grapes and i wanted to write it down into something vaguely coherent, and where else better to do it than here. i can word vomit and then send it into the ether and pretend i never said a thing. i love this horrible website, nothing can compare

i have no real conclusion to this, it was mostly stream of consciousness, but i hope it sort of helps y'all understand where i'm coming from, and why i am as chill as i am about things. not about y'all. y'all cause me so much anxiety i get physically sick and have to legit block tags, but with the actual show content i'm zen as hell

uh

the end ig?

it feels weird even signing off on this, but w/e

-diz

[nieladasdenani]

The daylight’s fading slowly (but time with you is standing still)

So, months later I finally was able to finish the prompt @mooooonshine gave me: The Corrs - Breathless + Summer Vibes. I hope it holds to your expectations, as it was erased twice accidentally! I love the Corrs, actually, so maybe that helped keep trying. You can also read this in AO3, if you rather.

Lena Luthor hates the beach.

She's aware that it's an unpopular opinion. And it's not just because standing in the shore of vast expanses of water trigger some trauma. It's not to be edgy either. Lena can actually appreciate the gentle breeze coming from the ocean, the calming sound of the waves. But she's not a fan of the Sun burning her skin, unless she's cocooned under a palm tree wearing a giant hat and shawl. Or the intense heat that makes the sand stick to her skin. Or the noise of too many people having too much fun, everyone trying to impose their respective playlists.

And yet, here she is. Dragged by her traitorous best friends with a flimsy excuse of getting back out there, Lena. So, it's been a while since she's last had casual sex. But less time since she had sex, though. She just ended a two-year relationship, and it's in no hurry to get back out there. Jack is still a dear friend, and it was her who ended things, it's not that she's opposed to casual sex, or one-night-stands, it's a matter of respect for the relationship they had.

"It's been a month, Lena. I think you mourned your kill long enough." Andrea's deadpan comment reaches Lena's internal ramblings, as if her friend could read her mind. She supposed she can, after all those years of friendship. Which is also why Lena glares at her openly and without remorse.

"No. Don't start, you two. We're here to have some fun, and enjoying a lovely day at the beach. We deserve a break!" Sam's always been the soft one out of the three of them. "It's also a good opportunity to meet new people!" Now Sam's throwing an unfairly sweet, hopeful smile at Lena, which in turn make her frown harder.

"Et tu, Brute?"

"Now, there's no need to be so dramatic, Lena. I'm not saying you have to, we're here to have a good time as friends, and if it happens, then, great!" Sam has the audacity to grin, and Lena is appalled to find herself softening in the face of her friends' love. Lena's not about to show this, though. Especially not when Andrea is smirking smugly at her, as if she knows she's won.

"Why are you smiling as if you enjoy spending time at a packed beach?" Lena fires at Andrea, who shrugs:

"I like it just fine. More so when I can eye such delicious, half naked snacks." She says this while pointedly looking in the general direction of a very tall, very handsome dark skinned man, who's smiling at a much shorter but equally gorgeous dark haired woman. Lena's about to point out how the pair seem to be a couple to Andrea, when Sam can't contain her enthusiasm any longer and explodes with an expressive:

"Who wants to get in the water!?"

Neither Lena, nor Andrea startle at the exuberant proposition, they both acknowledge it, however, with a decline. Though, Andrea promises to join her in a future immersion. The rejection doesn't affect Sam in the slightest, who skips the short distance that separates her from the ocean and dives head-first into the water, disappearing from view.

The attention of the remaining pair is grabbed by loud exclamations of joy coming from a group of people that are settled a short distance from them, only to discover that tall and handsome and short and gorgeous are part of the neighbors, and the actual reason they are whooping. Lena imagines it's because they come bearing alcohol and snacks.

"It seems like your snack is already taken." If she's going to have to get through this by force, Lena might as well be annoying, perhaps it will deter her friends from future abductions to the beach.

"Are you not familiar with concept of eye candy?"

"All I'm saying is, if you're going to fantasize about a handsome man, but it turns out he has a gorgeous girlfriend, and they're displaying it so publicly it must dampen the illusion somehow." Lena shrugs, not willing to let it go.

"You said that like it's a problem. All I hear is: handsome man and gorgeous woman. I'm sure you can also appreciate this combo." Andrea directs an arched brow at her, and Lena sighs in defeat, because she sure as hell can appreciate it.

"You're incorrigible." Lena huffs out with a laugh.

"Hey, guys!" They hear Sam, and turn in time to see her waving them from near the edge where sand meets water. Her smile impossibly large as droplets drip from every inch of her. Lena instinctively waves back with a small smile, but then freezes, because right behind her friend there's a goddess.

"Oh, no." She can't help the murmur that escapes her. It's a miracle that she recovers enough, despite Andrea's pointed, mocking, laugh. Just in time for Sam and her new friend to reach them.

"This is Kara!" Sam wears a smile that would be predatory when directed at Lena if it was in anyone else's face, specially Andrea's. "We were talking, and she's inviting us to join her and her friends to spend the day here at the beach!"

"Oh, isn't that wonderful, Lena?" And sometimes, Lena truly wonders why she allowed a friendship with Andrea to bloom after they fucked in college.

"Yes, so gracious." The growl is directed at her friends, but the moment she circles back to look at Kara, Lena finds herself smiling genuinely. Not only because the girl is ridiculously beautiful and fit, but because she's sporting one of the most charismatic smiles Lena has ever been hit with in her life.

"Hi! Sam said you guys were here to have a break from life, and so are we. So I figured we could just join forces and have a good time?" She's chipper, which should be enough to save Lena from this situation, because Lena Luthor hates the beach and Lena Luthor doesn't do chipper. And yet...

"That'd be wonderful, thank you, Kara. Are you sure it won't be a problem with the rest of your group?" Lena finds herself saying.

"Oh! Not at all! They're all very friendly and welcoming. Like I told Sam, it's really not a problem."

"Lovely. I'm Andrea, by the way. This is Lena. It seems as if our dear Sam has forgotten her manners."

"Right! Sorry!" She sounds anything but. "Anyway, shall we?" She's practically jumping with excitement and hurries to carry as much of their things as she physically can. Kara then jumps in to help, despite Lena's protests.

"No, it's no problem." And god, that smile is a weapon.

Turns out they fit right into the group, mostly because said group is outstandingly welcoming, at least after some awkward introductions that served to confirm that tall and handsome (James) and short and gorgeous (Lucy) are, indeed, a couple. Lena tries to send a smug smirk Andrea's way, but her friend looks, if anything more pleased. Incorrigible.

Kara doesn't leave Lena's side, not even when she looks like she's physically ill at the prospect of not getting into the water when most of the group decides to dip together. Andrea included, which almost makes Lena openly balk at her. Kara keeps stealing glances at the friends loudly enjoying the water, so much so that even Lena is close to feel like she wants to join them, too.

"You should go. I promise I'll be here when you come back." Lena teases. Satisfied when a light blush covers Kara's lovely face. 

"Are you sure?"

"Of course! You look like you're about to turn green with envy." Lena appreciates Kara's laugh, like she's always been free to express it, and she finds herself wanting to hear it more. A lot more. Odd.

"Ok! I'll be right back! Have fun, don't let Alex scare you, she's actually a softy." And with that Kara bolts to the water as if she'll turn to sand if she's not wet promptly... Ok, maybe not the best analogy, now Lena feels like she needs to dip in cold water. Ah, Alex. The big sister. Right. She has been friendly enough, but she keeps giving Lena the side eye and Lena's afraid she may receive a shovel talk she's not sure if she's ready to face. Lena faces her with a solid, confident stare, she's a Luthor, after all.

"So," Alex starts, "how are the labs at Luthor Corp? You're awful far from Metropolis." She never leaves her stare from Lena's face, not even when she sips at her drink. Which is a problem, because even if Lena recovers well, she's sure Alex didn't miss how much her question startled her. 

"Hm, are you keeping tabs on me? What is it, agent, special agent?" Lena remembers Kara gushing about her sister's accomplishments when she introduced them, FBI.

"Doctor Danvers is fine." She says. Smug. Lena squints at her. "I'm something of a scientist myself."

"Ah, that's what Kara meant when she said you were like Scully, then." And, surprisingly, they share a fond huff of a laugh over it. So maybe there's still hope.

"Yes. I like to keep up with the latest and greatest of the scientific community as much as I can. And that seems to lately involve Luthor Corp more often than not." Oddly, Lena sees the thinly veiled compliment, she tries not to blush.

"Well, it's a passion of mine. The lab, that is." Alex hums, but adds nothing, just keeps her gaze on Lena. And are moment like these when she's grateful for Lilian, she would be squirming if it weren't for her mother. They share a few more charged stares. Then Alex sighs and drops her eyes for a moment.

"Just don't play with her, all right?" Oh, wait what? Oh, no. She thinks... No!

"We're moving the company to National City!" What? What is she doing' why is she revealing secret information to a literal stranger? "We're changing the name, too. To L-Corp." Oh my god, someone please shut her up! Now! Oh she's dead. And Alex looks completely baffled, she even takes a couple of tries to speak.

"I...Oh. Oh, ok. That's, that's great."

"You can't tell anyone, though." She's not begging, just clarifying. "Please." An afterthought.

"Sure, no problem."

"I wouldn't. I wouldn't play with her." And here Alex sends her a searching look, no doubt looking for flaws. She doesn't seem to find any, because there aren't, and because she shrugs, finally.

"All right. That's all I ask. She's a big girl, she can take care of herself. But If you break her heart I'll make you regret it."

Lilian is going to kill her. Why is she revealing corporate secrets like this? For fear of the sister of a girl she finds cute (ok, glorious)? What the fuck? Since when does she panics like this? Why does she even care to make clear to Alex she's not playing with Kara? Oh Lilian is definitely murdering her now, no matter she's the only child she has left, now that Lex went crazy. So she probably shouldn't be making fun of her brother's very serious mental illness, but she's in self-destruct mode, apparently. Oh, forget Lilian killing her! Sam and Andrea are going to mock her relentlessly. Wait, they don't have to find out! None of them. Oh, good.

"What's wrong with you?" Andrea's usually unimpressed drawl has a tint of concern. And Lena is so caught off guard by the return of the rest of the group form the water that she gapes a little. Which only makes Andrea's frown deepen.

"Nothing. What's wrong with you?" Great. Excellent comeback. Andi's eyebrows almost touch her hairline.

"What did you do?"

"Everything ok?" Kara's sweet voice carries a hint of menace, and both Lena and Andrea turn to see her in such a defensive pose it's kind of uncanny to associate it with the sunshine girl they've met. It's actually kind of hot.

"I don't know. But she looks terribly guilty." Andrea, who seems to be a little impressed herself, says while pointing her accusing finger at Lena.

"Oh! Are you ok?" And she's back to being sweet, sitting back down next to Lena and scooting closer in case she wants to share a secret... again.

"Yes. Yes, of course."

The situation is gathering the attention of everyone, and Lena is sure that she's heading towards a panic attack. But her rescue comes from the least expected place: Alex.

"It's fine. She's just trying to reconcile the fact that I'm FBI and a scientist that knows science."

Lena sends a grateful smile Alex's way, because that seemed to be enough of an explanation for everyone else. Everyone else, except Andrea, of course. Lena does her best to ignore her, which is honestly not that hard with Kara so close to her giving her all of her attention, or the years of practice Lena has in the matter of ignoring Andrea. Also because Andres has her own source of distraction, in the form of James and Lucy. The day goes by in a whirlwind of fun, Lena's loathed to admit. Until Kara's stomach actually growls.

"Yep," Alex says, "that sounds about right. How about we order some actual food before hungry hungry hippo here resorts to cannibalism?" Kara's pouting, but she's also not offering any sort of dispute either. Something Lena shouldn't find adorable, and yet...

Somehow night crawls on them, and Lena is surprised to find that she's not drunk, despite having been drinking since they joined Kara's group. Actually, now that she thinks of it, none of them are. It's probably because Kara was making sure they were all drinking water and eating regularly, the whole time. She feels a little shift in her heart.

It looks like the spell will be broken when Sam regretfully announces that she needs to pick up Ruby from her dad's place. Andrea and Lena start to get ready to go with her, but Sam adamantly refuses them, ordering them to stay and enjoy the rest of the night. That she's just going to pick up her daughter and head home anyway. They insists, even Alex offers to be the one going with Sam, which strikes Lena as odd (doesn't Alex have a girlfriend?). But Sam, for her sweet disposition is really good at being a mom and having a mom voice.

"The only thing is that you two are going to need to find a way get back. I trust our new friends to take care of that?" James is the first to scramble to placate Sam that they'll make sure Lena and Andrea get home safe.

After Sam left night was quick to fall and they group started to retire for the day. Alex received a call from her girlfriend, Brainy and Nia left for Nia’s roommate’s birthday party, Winn had “mysterious date” his friends were teasing him about the whole time.

To Lena’s utter surprise, Andrea ended up leaving with James and Lucy, sporting the smuggest of smirks. This left Lena in the sole company of one Kara Danvers. Lena is actually surprised of how good her day at the beach was, she had fun, she feels like she did make new friends, not acquaintances, but actual friends. She also learned a lot about Kara, who has no reservations in wearing her heart for all to see. Which in Lena’s life is refreshing. It’s why she can tell the blonde is nervous when she says:

“I, I could walk you?” She doesn’t word it as a question but her voice does this thing that makes it sound like one. It’s endearing. It’s disarming.

“I’d like that.” And Lena’s nervous, too. She’s just better at hiding it. She’s nervous because she really wants to fuck Kara tonight. But she truly doesn’t want Kara to be a one-night-stand, or something even more ridiculous, like a summer love. But, god, she really wants to make love to this absurdly beautiful girl. And the walk is lovely, the air is a little cooler, but mild enough they can stay in their beach clothes, it gets lovelier when Kara spots her favorite ice cream stand open and insists she introduces Lena to:

“The best ice cream ever, you’ll see.”

“I’m sure.” She is, because she’s starting to believe everything with Kara is going to be delightful, Lena’s never been more charmed in her life.

Kara ends up buying a monstrosity that’s like a sample of every flavor available in one giant cup. Lena voices her concern about the amount of ice cream, and how she doubts they’ll be able to finish it. And Kara looks at her with a genuinely offended expression. Admittedly, the ice cream is delicious, and surprisingly, Kara does manage to finish the whole thing by the time they reach the hotel Lena’s staying in while her new apartment is done. They both look at the entrance like it has personally offended them.

“Well, this is me.”

“Yeah. Uh… Would you… I know you’re an important scientist and are probably super busy, but, do you think we could see each other again?”

“I’d love that.” Lena’s sure she’s never sported a bigger smile on her face. “Here, let me add you to my contacts, and I’ll text you so you have my number as well.”

“Yes, yeah. That’s awesome!” They exchange numbers like giddy teens, but still linger just outside the door.

“Would you like to come up?”

“Oh, you have no idea. I really, really do. But I want you in my life for as long as I can have you, you know? I mean, I want to do this right.”

“Oh?”

“I mean, if… if that’s what you also want, of course!”

“What I want is you, naked, in my bed.”

“Oh… Rao…” Kara’s so red, it’d be concerning if it wasn’t so adorable. “I really want that, too. I do. But, will that mean like a one night thing? What are you proposing, exactly?” Lena is so surprise for a moment, about the openness of Kara’s feelings, that it’s taken the wrong way. “I’m not, like, trying to pressure you into anything! Please, don’t freak out! It’s just, I like you so much, I really would like to maybe try and see if we work? Together? Like, as a couple? I know we just met… What I mean is, I’d like to know where we stand.”

“Kara,” because Lena doesn’t ever want to be the reason Kara looks this distressed again. “I’d love to explore the possibility of a romantic relationship with you. I know what you mean, you want to go step by step. I appreciate that. I just really wanted to have my way with you tonight.” Lena teases. And suddenly, Kara’s whole body language changes, she gains some confidence at Lena’s confirmation of affection.

“Well, I’ll make it worth the wait.” And oh, Lena is going to hold her to that.

They’re close enough to each other there’s no way to tell who initiates the kiss, it’s probably both of them, honestly. It’s soft, but so full of promise, Lena suddenly has no problem with doing the thing right, doing it their way, at their pace. She has a feeling this is all going to be worth it.

As a matter of fact, she’ll be right. She and Kara would go to start a relationship that’d be the best either of them ever experienced. They complement each other nicely, when Kara is impatient, Lena steps up, and when is Lena the one rushing things, is Kara who grounds her. It’ll start with regular coffee dates, then dinner dates, then lunch dates at Lena’s office. Game nights, movie nights. It’ll be like watching a flower bloom. And yes, the wait for the love making part will absolutely be worth the wait.

[scullyverse]

Chicken and Cheese

Prompt by anon;

“It’s because I’m so attractive isn’t it?" - “I say this, and I cannot stress this enough, I find you completely repulsive"

Thank you so much for your prompt. I had fun writing this one with putting a bit of a humorous take on it.

Also available to read on ao3

Scully is struggling at work and Mulder takes her out for lunch to help her feel better.

Mulder/Scully || Miscellaneous || 2.5k words || Rating G

Sighing, Scully sunk back into her office chair, removing her glasses from off her nose in frustration, chucking them onto the desk. She as getting annoyed at herself with having to stare at the same few sentences over and over again on the paper in front of her, her head pounding, eyes unfocused. Since her cancer diagnosis she found it harder to read and write for long periods of time due to the strain it put on her eyes. They had returned from a case early this morning and had spent the majority of the rest of the day completing the relevant paperwork and reports. Though as the hours ticked on Scully could feel her eyes begin to protest and the pounding headache creeping up on her, getting more intense as she tried to push herself through it. Pinching the bridge of her nose she closed her eyes willing her eyes to focus again so she could just finish the little paper work she had left before she clocked out for the day. Scully wasn’t one to let herself be tardy on paperwork, and there was only a little bit left to do.

“I could finish it if it’s too much for you Scully”

Opening her eyes again, she looked across their single desk towards Mulder, his eyes staring right into hers, soft and kind. As much as she hated the way people looked at her now, like she was so fragile, Mulder didn’t look at her that way. From the moment she had gotten her diagnosis he had been there, steady and supportive. Sure she could tell his concern as always there, it crept up in his eyes every so often, but he wouldn’t treat her like she was glass that needed to be wrapped in bubble wrap in case it shattered. Mulder still treated her with the respect for her independence like he always did. It was a breath of fresh air.

“No, it’s okay. I just need a break for a few minutes, just a small headache” Scully gave him a small smile, hiding the grimace as another wave of pain hit her head. She wouldn't admit to him that it felt like her eyes were splitting inside her head because what she said was the truth. She had gotten used to the headaches and the blurriness of her eyes that came with it these past few weeks and with a small break she would be able to continue to finish the report she was working on. Besides it would have to be something she would have to learn to push through if she wanted to keep her job for as long as she could, it wasn’t like it was going to get any better. And she needed it because it kept her busy and not focusing on the fact that this cancer was killing her from the inside out.

Mulder put his own glasses down onto the desk, his report momentarily forgotten as he gave her a little smile in return, though it didn’t meet his eyes. He could tell she was in pain but he didn’t want to push her too hard. Scully had always been so independent and strong that the fact that she would eventually lose both of those things caused a frustrated tension to rest just below her skin that Mulder picked up on and his worry for her wouldn’t give her any comfort he was sure of that. So he would be there for her to keep a constant source of normality for her if she needed.

“We haven’t had anything to eat in a few hours, how about we go grab something?” Mulder looked at the clock on the wall and noticed it was way past lunch but they still had a little bit over an hour before they clocked out and they were both nearly finished their reports anyway. “We have some time to kill. It might help with the headache”

Scully nodded as she rubbed under her eyes. Maybe some fresh air would help her after they had spent the majority of the day cooped up down in their basement office. Even though she knew her headache wasn’t the result of low blood sugar she would go with him and eat if it helped to put his mind at ease a little. Mulder got up from the desk as he grabbed his suit jacket that was hanging over the back of his chair, putting it on, Scully standing up too, settling her pen down next to her report.

“Did you want to go to that little place on the corner? That has those mean sandwic-“

Mulder stopped talking when he heard a groan of frustration and looked up to see two small blood drops on the white pages of the report Scully had been working on. Looking up further he saw Scully quickly press a tissue to her nose, tilting her head back slightly. “Dammit” Scully muttered under her breath. Mulder wanted to rush over there to wrap her in his arms but he stopped himself. Every time he had worried about the nose bleeds in the past she would snap at him in anger. He now knew that she didn’t need his coddling. He would be there when she needed him and he would make sure he didn’t mess up the trust she had put in him but acting as concerned as he felt. Mulder just walked over to her side of the desk, pulling a couple of tissues out of the box next to her report and gave her one, her eyes dropping from his as she changed the tissues, pulling it away after she realised the blood flow had all but stopped. Mulder used the rest of his tissues to gently dab at the paper, making sure not to smudge her writing on the page. She would probably insist on re writing it now anyway, but he would try to get her to not worry about it. The drops hadn’t been big and it wasn’t as messy as when it had happened in the past.

Scully watched him with a tug at her chest as she gave her nose one more touch with the tissue to make sure it had stopped before she tucked the bloody tissues into her hand. “Let me just go wash up before we go. A sandwich would be nice” Excusing herself, Scully walked out of the office and into the toilet block at the end of the hallway, checking herself in the mirror to make sure she didn’t have any blood on her skin or clothes. When she was happy that she didn’t see any blood on her shirt, she quickly splashed some water on her face before she studied her appearance, cleaning up under her nose as she threw the dirty tissues into the waste basket under the sink and made her way back towards their office, Mulder standing outside holding her jacket in his arms.

“Your jacket my lady” Mulder outstretched his arm with a flourish. Scully rolled her eyes, a smile breaking on her lips at how much of a dork he was. This was how she liked it. He didn’t make a fuss over her like everyone else and just kept everything normal. It was what she needed. She knew that pushing her cancer under the rug to deal with later wouldn't be a viable option forever, but while she could do it she would. Going to grab her jacket she smiled a little more when he placed it on her shoulders, helping her get it on. Looking up at him with suspicious eyes he just patted her shoulders, lingering there a little longer than normal before he gave them a squeeze. He didn’t say anything, but she knows this was his way of making sure she was okay. Her smile warmed as she gave a nod, which was enough for him to nod in return and walk down the hallway, his hand on her lower back like always as he called the elevator.

“Please tell me you are actually going to order a sandwich this time? I know you love your salads Scully but their chicken and cheese is like an orgasm in your mouth” Mulder joked as the elevator dinged, the doors opening. Scully laughed as she stepped inside, pushing the button to the ground floor as she looked over to him, crossing her arms over her chest. “An orgasm in your mouth, really Mulder?” She tried to dead pan but couldn’t hide the smirk on her lips.

“I swear to god Scully.” Putting his hands up defensively he return her smile. “The way the cheese melts and that sauce they use is just heavenly”

The elevator doors dinged again as it opened to the hustle and bustle of the ground floor as they stepped out, walking side by side through the room on their way towards the exit, Scully just shaking her head slightly as he rambled on and on about the sandwich.

Stepping outside, Scully paused slightly as she closed her eyes against the sun, feeling another pulse of pain hit her eyes before she took a deep breath, sucking in the slightly cool clear air. Feeling a hand on her lower back once more, she opened her eyes as she looked up at Mulder, his sunglasses in his other hand in front of her. “Thanks” Scully whispered as she put them on, taking relief when the sun wasn’t so bright in her eyes. “Well I might just have to try this orgasmic sandwich after all”

Mulder broke out into a grin as they walked together to the little deli store on the corner. Once inside Mulder ordered them both a chicken and cheese sandwich, Mulder ordering a glass of soda for himself and a glass of water for Scully upon her request. Placing the sunglasses on the table, Scully removed her jacket and put it on the back of the chair as Mulder did the same before they settled down onto the table set for two. Once their sandwich’s arrived Scully watched as Mulder all but began to devour his first half. Looking down at her own she had to admit that it did look pretty amazing. Her stomach flipped with a little pang of nausea as another wave of pain hit her head. She didn’t really feel all that hungry after her little episode in their office, but Mulder had bought it for her so she would at lease try to eat a little bit, she was sure she could mange that. By the time Scully had brought a half of her sandwich to her lips to take the first bite, Mulder had already finished one half and was going to start on the second, a bit of sauce gathered in the corner of his lips.

Scrunching her nose up slightly, Scully began to eat her sandwich with an impressed hum of approval. It did taste pretty damn good, she just wished she was hungry enough to appreciate it more. Mulder looked at her and licked his lips, cleaning them as he raised his eyebrows. “It’s good right?” He said, swallowing his mouthful. “Orgasm in the mouth” He returned to his half as he watched her, watched how she only ate a few bites, barely getting through the first half of her sandwich before he could tell she mustn’t be feeling the best because her cheeks became a little whiter and her bites became slower and slower. He hadn’t realised he was starting until he felt the filling of his sandwich hit his plate and shirt with a noise. Looking down he gave a pout, seeing some white sauce on the front of his shirt. Grabbing his napkin he began cleaning up as Scully watched him with a smirk. “Are you always this messy around your dates?”

Mulder gave a laugh as he wiggled his eyebrows playfully, placing his napkin back down to the table, Mulder was pleased with himself that the evidence was mostly gone from his shirt now. “Oh come on Scully, I take you to this nice place, buy you an orgasmic sandwich and everything, still not good enough for you? So fussy” His voice was teasing as he looked down at his shirt with a satisfied gesture. “Besides you can’t even see that anything had happened no, couldn’t get any more cleaner for you.”

Chuckling, Scully put her sandwich back to her plate as she rolled her eyes, taking a sip of her water, her eyes falling to this shirt, still seeing the slight discolouration but decided to say nothing. Putting her glass back down to the table she raised her eye brow. “I’m so impressed” She sarcastic replied, her lips curling into a smile. “My mother would be so happy that I found someone so....able to clean himself.”

Mulder laughed as he took a drink from his soda, before he gave her a playful smouldering look, causing her to grimace awkwardly, a laugh escaping her lips, a little bit of colour returning to her cheeks. Mulder gave her a wink as he leaned forwards slightly. “You can tell me the truth Scully, why your mother would be happy” His lips curling into a smirk “...It’s because I’m so attractive isn’t it?”

Scully gave a sharp laugh before she pushed him back into his chair with a playful shove, her hand going to cover her mouth as she felt her shoulders shake as she laughed. Mulder fell back into his chair as he nodded to himself, his eyes twinkling with playfulness and happiness, seeing her laugh so carefree, especially after what had happened earlier. He would do anything to make her laugh. Scully slowed her laughter down to a giggle before she reached out to grip his hands, giving them a slight pat as she looked into his eyes, a sudden serious look on her face. “I say this Mulder and I cannot stress this enough. I find you completely repulsive”

Mulder felt his smile falter for a moment before he saw the same playful twinkle in her eyes as her face broke out into a grin. “I’m kidding Mulder....” She had seen the look of heartbreak in his eyes for a split second and she felt herself having to apologise in some way. “...I don’t find you completely repulsive” She joked as she sat back in her chair, her hands resting back in her lap and her lips in a soft smile, her headache and nausea returning slightly. Pushing her plate forward she gave Mulder a little tilt of her head. “Go ahead and finish mine, I’m full.”

Reaching forward to pull the plate closer he took note of the grimace in her eyes again and gave her a smile. “Thanks Scully. Are you sure you’ve have enough?”

Scully nodded again with a soft smile as she sat back in her chair, her stomach settling down a little bit at the thought of her not eating anything more. Her head ache throbbed again behind her eyes but it wasn’t as bad as it had been back at their office. It had been nice to get out and spend some time with Mulder away from the stuffiness of their office and without the pressure of a case. It was exactly what she needed.

“I’m sure”

[carefulfears]

you technically asked for this: please please please talk about scully & samantha (how scully loves her, their connection, etc etc)

(previous post on this here)

the thing about it is like…scully loves samantha in so many different ways. she has to, first and foremost, by nature of loving mulder the way she does. it comes with the territory. it’s a package deal: mulder and his trailing ghost, mulder and his quest, mulder and what “matters.” there’s no separation. he’s 3 people at all times: the man in front of her, the one in bellefleur, the little boy from the pictures with his baby sister on his back. there are no photos of mulder without samantha, none taken without her, none taken after her. and he tells scully why: “i’m still walking into that room. every day of my life.”

and i guess that scully doesn’t have to love her, but she does, because she loves that man in bellefleur who sat down and told her what matters to him. she also loves her job. she loves the work that they do. she loves being “on the side of the victim,” and chasing monsters, making discoveries. she’s cognizant and respectful of what’s at the center. there is a reason that they do this every day, and it isn’t because they get a kick out of little green men. she’s protective, she really doesn’t mess around, not when it’s this important. as early as miracle man in season one, every time anyone mentions samantha, she’s standing up. she’s on edge, she’s controlling. this is important, but it’s not to everyone.

they’re the same age. they were taken by the same people. endured the same tests. reading samantha’s diary, listening to her talk about how much she hated it, the way scully cried…she doesn’t remember this (or maybe she does) but penny northern told her once that she held her while she cried, after the tests. who held this little girl, just writing in her journal that she wanted her brother?

scully wrote a journal like that too, once, saved her testimony for that same person. in closure the way that she tells mulder to go get some sleep, and she keeps looking. when she finds the police report she tells him: “i got it, mulder. i couldn’t believe it when i saw it. it was like it was looking for me.”

she’s guided, just like missy guides. these sisters linger.

as the years go on, bill dies, then tena. csm is out hiding with the anasazis, or whatever he deems priority. there’s no one else there who knows, but scully does. scully knows that they spent their summers playing baseball. they argued over the television, called each other names. she broke her collarbone on the swing, she was 6. it’s forever his turn on their last board game.

“not fox. mulder.” she corrected her mother with a smile, she knows there’s one person who calls him that. (and still does, screaming in his head, in his dreams).

to most everyone else, samantha is a name in a file, a statistic in a project. but “dana k. scully” is 3 shelves down.

she’s a picture in a frame, a ghost in his head. words on tattered paper. she’s scully’s babies’ angel aunt, one of two, and jackson has her hair. maybe baby2 her eyes, or her smile.

scully is just as haunted, as mulder is, and she’s been closer than he could ever get. she understands more. but when it was her turn, someone held her, and she came back to a person that samantha could only write about. so they chase ghosts forever and ever, because they deserve to be sought.

[oopsiedoopsie23]

Mission gone wrong | Jake Peralta x reader

A/N: Obsessed with Brooklyn 99, I’ve definitely been binging it way too much. And, I love Peraltiago so, so much but I agree, Peralta is way too charming and deserves way more love! Also I’m slowly going through my requests, so if you have sent me one, I’m gonna get through it eventually, so stay tuned my loves! And thank you for the request, babes <3

Prompt: The reader works at the 99 and goes undercover for a case as a stripper, but Jake worries when things don’t go exactly as planned (the two are dating in this imagine).

Warnings: mentions of alcohol, drugs, drugging and strippers

“Okay everyone, settle down, settle down.”

The briefing room was ecstatic, everyone muttering and gossiping to one another about the new case that they had just received this morning.

It was rumoured to be one of the largest cases that the precinct had ever seen, involving one of Brooklyn’s largest drug kingpins, and the case being handed to the 99 by the commissioner himself. 

“Charles, are you sure that you’re right?”

“Yeah Charles, us storming into a fancy Peruvian banquet to take down this guy seems really unlikely...and weird.”

“Guys! The Captain told everybody to be quiet...so be quiet!”

You and Jake turned around, facing the front of the room to look at Terry and Captain Holt, not bothering to hide the fact that the two of you were gossiping with Charles.

“Thank you, Sergeant Jeffords. As you all know, this morning our precinct received a rather large case from the commissioner so if you have all stopped gossiping and whispering amongst yourselves then, we can get started with the briefing.”

“Jeez Captain is it really that bad?”

“Excuse me, my apologies if my previous statement was rather harsh but there are um, some aspects of this case that are making me rather uncomfortable uh, Sergeant Jeffords would you give our precinct the briefing please.”

You and Jake looked at each other, the fact that Captain Holt was nervous was definitely not a good sign. 

“Damn maybe we really are going to a Peruvian banquet.” 

“Okay everyone, so today we are going to be taking down this man...” You all sit up straighter as Terry shows the precinct the photo of the convict, “His name is David Robertson, 41 years old, executive on Wall Street and one of the biggest drug king pins in Brooklyn.”

“Okay, so we have to take down the big bad wolf of wall street?”

“Hey was that a reference to that movie with Leonardo Dicaprio that we watched together?”

You can’t help but let out a laugh as Jake interrupted you, “Yeah, dang he looked good in that movie.”

“I know!” the two of you high fived before Terry continued speaking,

“L/N, Peralta, if you could keep your weird flirting and conversations ‘till after the briefing?”

“Or at home?”

“Or just not do it at all...ever.”

You and Jake smiled sheepishly as he turned to shrug at Amy and you chose to give the finger to Rosa (jokingly of course, you don’t have a death wish).

“Anyways, the good news is that the 84 has already found a lead that we can use to take down Robertson for good!”

Everyone in the room cheered and high fived at the good news.

“Wait so all we have to do is surround the location, storm in and Boom! Bad guy’s gone!”

Everyone in the room agreed and chuckled before Rosa cut in, 

“What’s the bad news Sarge?”

“...the location is Walt’s Gentlemen’s club.”

The room went silent as everyone digested Terry’s words,

“Wait so it’s a Peruvian banquet that no girls are allowed in?” Everyone groaned at Charles’ confusion causing him to let out an exasperated “What?”

“Charles, it’s a strip club not a Peruvian banquet!”

“Oh! Oh no...” 

You face palmed as Charles’ unconscious body hit the ground,

“We’ll just...give Charles a minute.”

3 hours later~

You all settled back into your seats in the briefing room, everyone once again muttering to one another about the big case.

“I mean a gentlemen’s club? This is like a case from my nightmares!”

“It’s okay Amy! Hitchcock and I were there last week, it’s very clean!”

Everyone’s faces scrunched up simultaneously in disgust and horror, “Scully! Why were you and Hitchcock at a strip club last week?”

“What? They’ve got the best chicken wings in the city!”

You hear Charles gasp dramatically, and see him place a hand on his chest in horror, “Scully! You did not just say that!”

“Okay everyone! We’ve just got word from the commissioner and we have decided that due to the importance of this case, we are turning this into a brief undercover mission.”

“Wait...so does that mean that Boyle and I are gonna get to dress up in the suit that I wore to my Nana’s funeral and eat some chicken wings while some ladies are sliding on poles?”

“Or, does that mean that we’re gonna have to watch Amy talk about personal hygiene as she attempts to slide down a pole?”

You try your best to hold back your laughter as Amy blushes and stutters after Gina.

“Actually...we were thinking of having someone else go undercover...”

You and Rosa immediately gave each other the look, knowing that with both of your skills, experience and luck, it was probably going to be one of you.

Before Holt or Terry can continue talking about the case, you and Rosa simultaneously stick your fists out, preparing for an intense game of rock, paper, scissors,

“You know the drill, L/N.”

“Loser has to work this brilliant, but extremely embarrassing and demeaning case that would ruin either of our reputations, you’re on Diaz!”

You feel Jake began to bounce in your seat in anticipation behind you,

“C’mon Y/N you got this! Make me proud, honey!”

“C’mon Rosa! Don’t let them win! I may have lost my bet against Jake but you can still take down Y/N! Don’t let another one of them get away!”

Everyone stares at Amy, with her sudden outburst of intensity, “Jeez Santiago, you good?” 

“Y-yeah I’m fine Sarge, just really into this game of rock, paper, scissors, you know? I just uh, really want to see who gets to work the pole?” Amy stutters, clearly flustered but is luckily saved by Holt,

“Actually, Santiago this time it isn’t up to a wager of rock, paper, scissors to deci-”

“Okay everyone! My name is Jake Peralta, I’m your host this evening, and welcome to the annual, L/N, Diaz showdown, this time to decide who gets the pleasure of pretending to be a...drum roll please, Boyle...lady of the night for a bunch of sketchy drug dealers and pervy old men!”

“What’s a lady of the night?”

“Oh not now Boyle!”

“In this corner, she is the reigning rock, paper, scissors champ, who would make the most terrifying pole dancer ever...Rosa Diaz!”

Cheers are heard throughout the room as Rosa cracks her knuckles, preparing for the game.

“And in this corner, she has the best taste in men and after the last fight, had to pretend to be married to Hitchcock, and did I mention is my hot girlfriend...Y/N L/N!”

Cheers are also heard throughout the room as Jake echoes your name dramatically and you nod your head at Rosa in acknowledgement.

“Okay fighters, on shoot,  ready?”

The two of you shake hands as you feel everyone slightly tilt forward to get a good view of your matchup.

“Rock...Paper...Scissors...Shoot!”

On cue, you quickly lay your hand flat in a paper formation as Rosa balls her hand into a fist, signalling rock.

“YES!”

“And our winner by paper...Y/N L/N!”

Everyone claps and cheers as Jake raises your arm into the air and you take a bow, smiling as Rosa groans and puts her head in her hands.

“Actually detectives, the commissioner and I have already decided that the best choice for this undercover mission would be, Detective L/N.”

“Wait, what?”

“B-but I won the rock, paper, scissors!”

“You all realize that this is an extremely important case which your petty game has no impact on right?”

You open your mouth again in protest when Holt cuts you off,

“It is only used for small, un-important cases like homicides.”

You groan as Rosa snickers,

“Ha! Y/N still has to pretend to be a stripper!”

“Terry you can’t possibly agree, I mean you told me that Rosa used to do ballet, right? You’ve got dance experience surely you’d be a better stripper than me!”

Terry’s eyes widen as Rosa growls at him, “I-I have no idea what you’re talking about Y/N um, I’m sure you’d be a great stripper, m-much better than Diaz.”

you sigh, letting your head fall onto the table, feeling Jake feverishly pet your shoulder as Holt dismisses the meeting.

“On the bright side, you’ll look hot?”

“Not the time, Jake.”

Another 3 hours later~

“Ugh, I hate this, I hate this, I hate this, I hate this, I hate this!”

“But you look amazing! That brassiere really brings out your eyes!”

“Charles! Why are you looking at my girlfriend’s brassiere?” 

You roll your eyes as your boyfriend and his best friend begin to argue over the pronunciation of brassiere, instead choosing to prepare yourself for the hours of hell ahead of you.

“Damn L/N you look hot.” you smirk at Rosa, giving your friend a salute.

“Yeah um, the mascara was a good touch.”

You chuckled at how uncomfortable Amy was with you standing in the bullpen practically half naked.

Then, Holt walks in with Terry and the commissioner by his side, seemingly re-discussing the case,

“Okay team, you all know the drill, L/N will go in, pretending to be an employee at our target’s location, and flirt with the target, enticing him to go to a private room in the back and Peralta and Boyle will also be undercover as fellow customers as another set of eyes in the room. Diaz, Santiago, Jeffords and I, along with a task force from the 84 will then surround all the exits as L/N finds a way to distract him, then when he tries to run we got ourselves a convict.”

You all cheer, and suit up (or in your case put on a flimsy trench coat), preparing yourselves for the mission.

“Hey, are you okay?” you look over and see Jake watching you with worried eyes,

“Yeah...just nervous.” you chuckled nervously, fiddling with your hands.

“Hey, look at me, you’ll be fine, I won’t let anything bad happen to you, I promise.”

He gently takes your hands in his, making you smile at the sweet gesture,

“I’m more nervous about having to dance half naked in front of a bunch of strangers than being surrounded by a bunch of drug dealers.”

Jake laughs, making you smile as he gives you a quick peck to your forehead.

“Promise me that you’ll close your eyes?”

“Oh no way! This is my one chance to watch you perform!”

You dramatically gasp, lightly smacking his chest as the two of you burst out laughing once again,

“Will you at least make sure that Charles closes his eyes?”

“Oh yeah, for sure, that’s disgusting.”

The two of you stay silent for the rest of the short car ride, choosing to instead, hold hands and pretend to listen to Charles list off all of the restaurants that should rightfully be named the best in the city.

“Alright, we’re here, you know what to do. Good luck L/N.” 

You nod at Holt with a slight smile gracing your lips, as you step out of the car as gracefully and seductively as you could, and walking into the club.

As you walk in, you let your eyes momentarily adjust to the dark lighting, subtly dropping your trench coat to the floor, attempting to blend in with the rest of the half naked ladies walking around.

You grab a nearby tray of drinks and begin to circle the club, trying your best to act as if you weren’t about to barf from all of the sleazy looks you were getting.

“Hey gorgeous, over here!”

You turn your head and see David Robertson himself, sitting with a group of large men, calling you to him.

You gulp and tense but instantly relax as you see Jake and Charles walk through the door, both failing miserably to look as if they belonged at the club.

You give a slight nod to them as you strut over to Robertson’s table, putting your best flirty smile on your face (the one you give Jake when you try to talk him out of forcing you to watch Die Hard for the 1000th time).

“Hello Gentlemen, what can I do for you?”

“You must be new around here, we come here every night and we haven’t seen you around before.” you inhale as all of the burly men chuckle as if the comment was funny.

“Well I’m new here so, you probably know this place better than I do.” you giggle

The men chuckle once again, one of them even tossing you a dollar bill,

“I like you, what’s your name sweetheart?”

“Sugar...” you lean forward, trying your best to seduce the man, “Because I’m sweet...and once you taste me you can’t get enough.” 

You swear you can hear a gasp and a “Oh that’s good!” from Charles behind you but you pretend like it didn’t phase you at all,

“So...Sugar...you got any moves?”

“Well sir, I’m not like other girls here...I only dance in private, it makes things a lot more...interesting.”

“Ooh, now I like you even more!”

You smile as your target takes out his wallet, placing a black card on the table, clearly taking you up on your offer.

But as you lean back, holding your hand out for the man to take, Robertson instead pushes forward two glasses filled with a dark liquid, clearly signalling that he wants you to take one.

You try hiding your shock from the gesture and quickly try finding an excuse for not drinking the unknown drink...and whatever substances may be in it.

“I’m not so sure about that...I’m on the clock, you know.” You give another flirtatious smile, hoping that it will get you out of the situation.

“Well sweetheart, no drink...no deal.” You gulp as you watch him dramatically slide his card away from you as the last words leave his mouth.

You tilt your head slightly, to take a look at Jake and Charles, one of which has chicken sauce all over his face and the other who is feverishly shaking his head no.

But if I don’t do this, this whole case may go to waste.

You look away from Jake, looking Robertson dead in the eye once again,

“Oh the things we do for a little fun hm?” you attempt to say nonchalantly.

You slowly wrap your hands around the small glass, trying your best to identify whatever’s inside of it, before tilting it upwards and letting the burning liquid slide down your throat.

You watch as your target quickly does the same, before slamming his card on the table and letting you guide him to the back into a small room.

You feel your head become slightly dizzy and your throat burns from whatever was in the glass, the side effects becoming so severe that you barely notice that you’re now in the back room.

Focus L/N, focus.

You try to stand up straight and keep your vision clear as you watch Robertson begin to unbuckle his pants and take out a bunch of small containers of substances from his pockets.

“Wha-what are you doing?”

“Well...sugar I’m just preparing for a bit of fun...I mean this is what I paid for right?”

You gulp, praying that Jake and Charles and everyone else on the team were in their positions by now, you knew that you couldn’t stall any longer.

“Um, sorry Robertson but no, I don’t think this is what you paid for.”

The man freezes and tenses, clearly shocked from your answer,

“H-how do you know my name?”

You try to stand up straight once again, trying to look as strong as possible,

“Because of this...” you hold up your badge.

Robertson’s eyes widen and he scrambles as he tries to make a break for it. 

You immediately chase after him, watching as he finds the nearest exit door, pushing it open, and sprinting out.

“Freeze! This is the NYPD, David Robertson, put your hands in the air!”

You watch smugly as he reluctantly puts his hands in the air, surrendering himself to your colleagues. That is until, your knees begin to buckle and your dinner start to come back up.

Jake, who was right behind you, is quick to notice and guides you to a nearby bush, holding your hair back as you begin to vomit.

“Jeez, was it really that bad in there?” you hear Rosa walk up to you, disgust laced in her voice,

“No, she drank some sketchy drink from that Robertson dude.”

“What? Y/N what the hell? That could’ve been poisoned!” 

You gag and feel a gentle pat on your back, before sitting back down on the curb, not caring if you were still half naked.

“H-he wouldn’t go with me if I didn’t take it...I didn’t want the whole case to be a bust.”

You gratefully smile as you feel Jake’s jacket wrap around your shoulder,

“That was stupid...but brave, L/N.”

You jokingly swat Amy’s hand away as she tries grabbing onto your wrist, to check your pulse,

“I’m fine Amy, I’m alive.”

Rosa takes your terrible humour as a sign that you’re better, and signals for Amy to give you and Jake some space.

“So...since you just barfed your dinner all up, you wanna get something to eat?”

[lilydalexf]

Old School X is a project interviewing X-Files fanfic authors who were posting fic during the original run of the show. New interviews are posted every Tuesday.

Interview with Piper Sargasso

Piper Sargasso has 25 stories at Gossamer, but don’t miss her website where the fics each have cover collage art. If you are a fan of Mulder/Scully romance, there are a lot of MSR fics to read that are set in different seasons of the show. But like the show that never stuck to one type of story, Piper’s stories have variety, so you can also find AUs and /Other.  Big thanks to Piper for doing this interview.

Does it surprise you that people are still interested in reading your X-Files fanfics and others that were posted during the original run of the show (1993-2002)?

It does, but I love that people are still into it! Writers back in the day put so much work and love into their writing, and it's nice to know that the stories are still being appreciated to this day. As for my own stories, it puts a huge smile on my face to know there are still people out there checking them out and hopefully enjoying them.

What do you think of when you think about your X-Files fandom experience? What did you take away from it?

It was such a positive period of my life. I made some amazing friends who became something like older sisters (and some brothers) to me, even though I was a little ridiculous when I was in my early to mid-twenties. It was also a much-needed confidence booster. I was a pretty shy person and loved writing, but never had the nerve to show anything to anyone. My first fanfic was completely horrible, but because of it I made my first XF friend and super beta, Mimic117. Between her guidance and the encouraging words from my Yahoo group I was able to do something I really loved and felt great about myself and my abilities for the first time. That will stay with me forever. That first story was truly atrocious, but it was a catalyst for great things in my life when I needed them the most.

Social media didn't really exist during the show's original run. How were you most involved with the X-Files online (atxc, message board, email mailing list, etc.)?

I remember trying this cool new thing called an AOL chat room, but they were more interested in perving on each other than talking about the show. Once I knew about fanfiction I kept seeing that some of my favorite authors kept mentioning IWTBXF in their notes, a Yahoo group named I Want to Believe. I looked it up, joined, and with great trepidation made my introductory post. Everyone was so warm and welcoming, and talking to my favorite authors in the group was a little like meeting a celebrity and finding out that they're awesome in real life. After IWTBXF fell apart, an off-shoot called Beyond the Sea was created with almost all of the original group transferring over. I stuck to my little family there and didn't branch out into much else, other than the rare dip into Haven. Ephemeral and Gossamer, of course.

What did you take away from your experience with X-Files fic or with the fandom in general?

Mostly the overwhelming feeling of acceptance and confidence to write, something I was sorely lacking before in my life. I fell in with the best group, that's for sure! They made me feel like being a professional writer could be an achievable goal.

What was it that got you hooked on the X-Files as a show?

The commercial advertising. The pilot spoke to my supernatural-loving, angsty 15 year-old soul. I watched it religiously every week. There was nothing like it. It was off-beat, but serious (most of the time) and fulfilled my insatiable craving for the paranormal and weird. You just couldn't get that from Melrose Place and Beavis and Butthead, you know? It definitely helped that David Duchovny was adorable and the character of Scully was the strong and intelligent icon we needed in the 90's and beyond.

What got you involved with X-Files fanfic?

In high school I had a friend who was as obsessed with the show as I was. Maybe more, since she once had a slumber party that was exclusively to binge watch her taped episodes (the other girls who wanted to mess around with spells and the Ouija board weren't thrilled that she couldn't be swayed away from it) and she often drove me from play rehearsals in her convertible with the top down and the theme song blasting to the heavens, much to my delight and mortification. A couple years after we graduated she told me about the piece of fanfic she wrote. Insert a record screech here. What?! You mean there are thousands of stories dedicated to my favorite show? And hundreds more get added every month?! I was obsessed. If I could've stopped working and slept at my computer desk I would have.

What is your relationship like now to X-Files fandom?

Sadly it's nonexistent these days. I have great memories and it holds a big piece of my heart, but I haven't been active in a long time. I would love to see a huge revival, and would definitely want to be involved in that in some way, were it to happen.

Were you involved with any fandoms after the X-Files? If so, what was it like compared to X-Files?

I read a lot of Harry Potter fanfiction for a while, but I never could expend the kind of energy and time I did for the X-Files fandom. It came at a perfect time in my life, and so far nothing else has measured up to it.

Who are some of your favorite fictional characters? Why?

Besides XF characters? Off the top of my head I really love Hermione Granger, Buffy Summers, Elizabeth Bennet, and Claire Fraser for their sass and strength of character, Severus Snape for his complexity, and Christina Ricci's version of Wednesday Addams for her pure awesomeness. She's pretty much my spirit animal.

Do you ever still watch The X-Files or think about Mulder and Scully?

I do occasionally. I watched the series from season 1-7 so many times that I started to burn out, but I get on my X-Files kicks sometimes and binge it again.

Do you ever still read X-Files fic? Fic in another fandom?

Like with the show, I'll get nostalgic and need to consume all the fanfics my greedy little eyes can behold until I move on to something else. It can feel a little lonely though, if you'll excuse the drama. We're not in the heyday anymore, so it feels a little like walking through a ghost town. Many of the stories out there are suspended in time because the show ended, or people stopped writing.

Do you have any favorite X-Files fanfic stories or authors?

I know I have dozens, but I'm drawing a blank. My ultimate favorite is any well-written MSR casefile with UST finally resulting in RST. Those are my unicorns!

What is your favorite of your own fics, X-Files and/or otherwise?

I have a silly one called Baby, It's Cold Outside that I sometimes read around Christmastime. It was a fluffy song-fic, but I can see the scene so clearly in my mind when I read it and it's just pure fun. I also like my Donnie Pfaster series. I can see the potential in my writing with those, which makes me feel I could really write something special someday. Plus, he's such an interesting little slimeball to write and read about. Bless his heart.

Do you think you'll ever write another X-Files story? Or dust off and post an oldie that for whatever reason never made it online?

I still think about the two WIPs I haven't finished. I wrote myself into a corner with This Mortal Coil, and honestly I think it needs a total overhaul. I think Dana Scully's Diary would be a fun one to finish. I hate that I never finished them.

Do you still write fic now? Or other creative work?

I think about writing fanfic now and then and I've had a couple original novels sketched out, but there are so many other demands on my time that I haven't gotten very far. I still plan to see the novels through, even if no one but interested friends and family read them.  

Where do you get ideas for stories?

I used to watch an episode and really study the actors' expressions and actions, always trying to find new angles to the stories we all know. A lot of times things would just come to me and I'd get so excited I couldn't sleep until I wrote a good chunk of it down.

What's the story behind your pen name?

The friend who introduced me to fanfic told me the best way to choose a pen name was to make sure it derives from the show. For a couple days I looked at the titles and summaries of episodes and agonized over just the right name. Finally Piper Maru and the summary from Triangle, which mentions the Sargasso sea, stood out and just clicked.

Do your friends and family know about your fic and, if so, what have been their reactions?

My now husband always knew, and he thought it was cool that I had a hobby that made me so happy, but he was never a reader. My parents found out when I was about 24 and my step-dad would tell EVERYONE about it, much to my horror. Most reactions were of the bland, "Oh yeah? That's nice." variety but I definitely got some weird looks from others. The worst was when I found out how much of my racier MSR stories my parents read. My step-dad thought it was hilarious and teased me a little. My usually open-minded mom was uncomfortable, but tried to be supportive. It's all fun and games until your daughter starts writing psuedo-erotica for anyone to see!

Is there a place online (tumblr, twitter, AO3, etc.) where people can find you and/or your stories now?

Circe Invidiosa very generously hosts a page for me at http://pipers.invidiosa.com.

(Posted by Lilydale on January 26, 2021)

[baronessblixen]

The Three Lost Children

This is my entry for the @xfilesfanficexchange Horror Fanfic Exchange. My words were lost and abandoned. Set in season 6.

The reason I’m posting it here as well as on AO3 is because this is also today’s Fictober story! Tagging @today-in-fic and @xffictober

Fictober Day 24

New England in autumn is a sight to be seen. Mulder drives them through the vibrant, popping colors and Scully watches, almost like a child, in silent awe. She can’t wait to stop the car, walk through the rustling leaves, take in the fresh air. Listen to the breeze of the nearby ocean. She hasn’t been to the ocean in so long and her soul aches for it. She chances a glance at Mulder. They’re both quiet, lost in their own thoughts. She wouldn’t be able to guess what he’s thinking about. Lately, this is all they’ve been; a long stretch of silence, of unspoken pains.

The longer they drive, the lonelier it becomes. She doesn’t know why they’re here, not really. Something about apparitions, something about a cold case. As so often, she just followed him, barely asking for an explanation, still trusting him with their work. Even after Diana. They’ve been inching back towards normalcy. But in her mind, it’s ever present. Before Diana, after Diana.

Mulder sets the blinker and turns onto a small, nondescript gravel path. She glances at him but he doesn’t say anything. They follow the path and Scully watches as the trees grow rarer, most of them bald, barely alive. She shivers involuntarily as a house comes into view, growing bigger and bigger. Mulder slows the car and parks at it what must have been a gate once.

“We’re here,” he says unnecessarily, turning to her. They get out of the car and Mulder stretches, holding his nose into the air, half a smile on his face. Scully watches him, half amused and, despite herself, a little bit in love with him.

“Mulder,” she says, looking at the house in front of them, abandoned and broken, “why are we here?”

“This house is said to be haunted.” Whenever he talks about haunted places, his face lights up. An enthusiasm she’s never been able to share.

“You already took me to a haunted house on Christmas Eve, Mulder.” And they almost ended up dead. Or so she thinks. The memories of that night are still hazy and untrustworthy. “I can’t keep doing this,” she says to herself but he hears her, throwing her a look she can’t decipher. They’re the only living things around here. Not a single bird is singing. The trees are watching on, dead und unmoving. Something is not right. She stops and looks around. The cold feeling is back, taking hold of her. As if someone were softly scratching her with long fingernails, making her shiver all over. She takes a step forward but the sensation remains.

Her eyes are drawn to the house. She squints, tries to see it for what it must have been once. The bricks are laid bare, the house a mere skeleton. It seems to be standing up by pure will. Part of it has crumbled to the ground, a big hole gaping in between the main house and a smaller cottage. They must have been a unit once. Now, they’re standing on their own sides, not touching, decaying by themselves, still in sync.

“Let’s go inside.”

“Mulder, wait.” He stops and turns around. “Why are we here? How is this an X-Files?”

“Just follow me.” He keeps on walking, pushing open the creaky wooden door. Scully huffs. So much for her New Year’s resolutions. There’s something about this house that repels her. She’s not going to admit it to Mulder. She barely admits it to herself. But she feels it all around her in the cool air, the eerie silence. There’s a presence here. Something rotten and evil.

“Scully?” Mulder asks from inside, his voice sounding obscured. She takes a deep breath, the smell of decomposition in the air growing stronger the closer she gets to the ajar door. She steps inside the damp, old ruin and looks around.

Mulder is on the stairs and they creak in pain with every step he takes.

“You still haven’t told me,” she says, walking through what must have been a kitchen once. There are a few cups on the table, on the counters. One day, someone walked out here and never returned. She doesn’t dare to look into the cups. One is chipped, another one has faded colors. There was life here, once.

“Told you what?” Mulder yells from upstairs.

“What we’re doing here.” Scully leaves the kitchen and finds herself in the main hall. She stares at the big, dark wooden grandfather clock in the corner. Her heart starts pounding as she realizes that it’s showing the right time. The hands are moving, tick tock, tick tock. How is it possible that this clock is ticking? How is it possible that anything is alive in this house?

“Come up here, Scully. I want to show you something.” She gives the clock one last look but it goes on steadily. It feels as if it were watching her with stern eyes, judging her. As soon as she turns around, facing away from the clock, she hears it. At first it’s soft, barely discernible. A laugh. She keeps on walking and there it is again. More laughter. It sounds like… like… children’s laughter. She turns back, gasping. There’s only the clock, mocking her with its precision. She takes a breath, reminds herself that perception can play tricks on your mind. There might be children outside, playing games. That’s what she heard. It must be.

As she ascends the stairs, the wood moaning, she touches the walls where yellow lines speak of picture frames that must have hung here once. Who lived here? She wonders. What happened to them?

“There you are,” Mulder says upstairs, his head peeking out of a small room.

“You owe me an explanation.”

“Yeah, yeah.” He touches her arm and leads her into the room. Gloomy light falls through the broken windows, fracturing this room, a child’s bedroom. Scattered toys, old and dusty, some gnawed on. Sadness engulfs her as she stands there, cold to the bone. She hugs herself but it neither brings her comfort, nor warmth.

“What are we doing here?” she asks again, the anger in her rising.

“One day in 1879, a girl named Lucy Monroe disappeared. No one expected fowl play. An accident, everyone said. The parents were devastated, left their house and moved away. No one heard from them again. Things went back to normal and no one thought about poor Lucy or her parents. That is until the next two children disappeared, a pair of siblings.” Mulder picks up a toy car and blows off the dust.

“Is this- did Lucy Monroe live in this house?” Scully looks around and her eyes linger on the wallpaper with colorful balloons and clowns.

“She didn’t,” Mulder goes on. “When Lucy disappeared, this house belonged to one Richard Watkins. His neighbors described him as an inconspicuous, religious man. He, his wife and their three children went to church every Sunday but liked to keep to themselves. Until a fire claimed the life of his wife and children. That’s when everything changed.”

“What changed?” Scully asks. Damn Mulder for knowing how to tell a story. He’s walking around in circles, still holding the small toy car. He turns to her, his face solemn.

“Richard Watkins bundled all his pain and his hate against God. He stopped going to church, stopped leaving the house altogether. People in town started talking about him. It became a dare for children to find this house and catch a glimpse of this ungodly man. The gossip started, as it always does. They said Richard Watkins turned his back on God, like he’d done to him, and worshipped Satan instead.”

Scully wants to roll her eyes, or laugh. She can’t. Mulder’s voice is mesmerizing. As is the story he’s telling. She stares at the three small beds, barely touched. She freezes. One bed, an old moldy mattress still in place, has an indentation. It almost looks like a child’s body. Scully looks away, focuses on Mulder and nothing else.

“What does this have to do with the case, Mulder?”

“Don’t you feel it, Scully? This house… it’s haunted.”

She feels it. She feels it in the strange scratching sensation that’s intensifying. She feels it in the heaviness of her bones. This house has memories and it is aching from them. She feels that same ache, too.

“I don’t feel it,” she lies. “Maybe you should have brought Diana. All I feel is a draft. I’m leaving.” She is angry with Mulder and angry with herself. Why does she continue to let herself be lured out to these places, into myths and folklores? This is not her job. She could be at home, she could be doing something of consequence. But here she is, in yet another haunted house, chasing ghosts and chasing Mulder.

This has to stop.

“I haven’t told you the rest of the story,” Mulder calls out but she’s already back on the stairs. She doesn’t reply, refuses to listen. She’s not as proficient in running away as Mulder is but she can manage.

Still on the stairs, she hears the clock in the main hall. Is that her imagination or has the noise increased? Drawn by an unknown force, Scully returns to the hall. Her eyes fall on the clock, the wood darker than she remembers it. Among all these broken, forgotten things, the clock doesn’t fit in. It doesn’t fit at all. Her eyes are trained on the hands. Maybe none of it is real, maybe she’s just imagining it, fueled by Mulder’s story. But they keep moving steadily.

The clock strikes the full hour and there’s a drawn-out creak that sounds as if someone were opening a door, but slowly. She stares at it, the clock, unmoving but for the hands. Tick tock, tick tock. The creaking stops and then everything else does, too. Scully holds her breath for a second, then lets it out. It’s all in my head, she reminds herself. She relaxes. There’s nothing wrong with this clock. Nothing at all.

Just as she’s about to leave, the clock-face crumbles, falls apart, and reveals a new face, half man, half not. Blood-red eyes meet hers for the flash of a second. An evil grin with sharp teeth, horns protruding from the forehead. She’s seen this face before. In stories, in her nightmares. It’s the face of the devil. Unable to look away, her shaky fingers search for her gun. She stops when she hears the soft, gentle sound of laughter close to her.  

Someone’s touching her. There’s pressure on her arm but as she looks down at it, there’s nothing there. Only laughter in the air. Happy, unabashed children’s laughter.

“We’ve been waiting for you,” a child’s voice singsongs. Scully makes a complete turn but she’s all alone. There’s only her and the big, dark clock that sits there unremarkably. The face, she notices, has gone back to normal.

“I’m losing my mind,” she murmurs, slowly walking backwards. She needs to get out of this room, out of this house. When her back comes into contact with something warm, something solid, she screams.

“Hey,” Mulder says, holding her by the arms. “It’s just me.”

“Did you hear it, Mulder?” she asks him.

“Hear what?”

“The children.”

“What children?”

“There was children’s laughter, there was-“ she stops. She sounds crazy. Mulder looks at her as if she’s lost her mind before he cracks a smile.

“So now you agree with me? This place is haunted.”

“Why did you bring me here?” she yells at him. All the anger and frustration she’s been feeling these last few weeks break out of her.

“I- the case, I-“ He’s stunned by her outburst. “I thought we could… I wanted to show you this house, tell you the story. I’ve been fascinated by it ever since I was a child myself.” His eyes grow soft and so does she.

“Tell me,” she says, feeling weak. “But not in here. I need fresh air.” They walk outside together, Mulder holding Scully’s hand. “I can’t believe I’m admitting this but this place is creepy, Mulder.”

He chuckles softly. “I know. Can I finish my story now?” Scully nods at him. “No one ever found out what happened to Lucy Monroe or the other two kids that disappeared. They were never found. But Richard Watkins was. The details are hazy but he slipped one night, fell down the cliffs and died. An act of God, it was later surmised. Because of what he’d been planning. They never found the kids but they found Lucy Monroe’s doll in his house, clothes that the kids had been wearing, too. They searched the whole place but no other traces could be found. It was said that Richard Watkins was planning to sacrifice the children to Satan the night he died.”

“The children,” she mumbles. She thinks of the laughter she’d heard and shivers. It can’t be. It just can’t be. There’s no such thing as haunted souls, a haunted house.

“You heard them.”

“I heard something,” she admits. “There might be children playing here somewhere that-“

“There are no children here, Scully. Listen. You heard the three lost children. That’s what folks around here call them. The three lost children. They’re said to be haunting this house. In early 1900, people tried to sell this house. Enough time had passed, they’d figured. No one has been able to stay here longer than a few weeks. The last recorded family that moved in were the Hendersons in the 50s. A newly married couple, just starting out. While Mr. Henderson never heard the children, his wife sure did. She thought she was going insane. They’d been trying for a baby and everyone, including her doctors and her husband, thought that unfulfilled wish was causing her audiovisual hallucinations.”

Is that why she heard them? Because of her own failure to conceive? She pushes the thought away.

“What happened to them?”

“They moved out. Their marriage was in shambles by the time they did. Mr. Henderson was so angry that this house, their dream house, was causing them so much misery that he destroyed half of it.” They both turn to look at the house, at the gaping middle.

“They separated?”

Mulder shakes his head. “They almost did. Their love for each other was strong though.” He stares at her, his eyes so green, so open, that she feels powerless. “They moved away. They worked on their marriage. They healed. Together. And then, not long after, Mrs. Henderson became pregnant. She gave birth to a healthy baby girl. The end.” He grins at her.

“How do you know all this, Mulder?”

“Because,” he says, taking her hand and leading her to the car. The more distance they bring between themselves and the house, the freer Scully feels. The tension leaves her body. “The Hendersons were our neighbors. That little baby girl? She grew up and used to babysit me. We came here when I was about 10 years old after I’d begged my parents. I haven’t been able to forget about this story ever since. Neither of us heard the three lost children though. But you did.”

“Mulder…”

“It’s okay. I know you don’t want to admit it. Most people don’t hear them. Only a few have reported the laughter and… feeling an evil presence in this house.” He touches her arm, strokes it gently. “Legend says only people who are pure of heart can hear the children.”

Scully snorts. “You had me until that last bit, Mulder.” He shrugs and smiles at her. “There is no case here, is there?”

“Oh, there is. But not here exactly. It’s further up north. I just wanted to take you here, share this with you. After… after everything.”

She bites her lip, but she can’t resist. “Have you ever taken Diana here?”

Mulder looks genuinely surprised. “No,” he says and she knows he’s telling the truth. “I never even thought about it.”

“Good,” she says and opens the car door. Mulder puts his hand over hers.

“I know it may take a while,” he says, his voice breaking. “But I want to win your trust back.”

“You never lost my trust,” she says. “And you and Diana… I know it’s none of my business and-“

“Of course it’s your business,” he cuts in. “It is your business. I want it to be. I thought I’d made that clear.”

“Clear, Mulder?” She raises an eyebrow. “When?”

“The hallway,” he says, his eyes fixed on hers. She blushes. “Taking you on all these adventures when we were off the X-Files. I mean it, Scully. I can’t do this alone. I don’t want to do it alone. I want you here by my side. If that’s what you want, too.”

She stares at the house, thinks about the Hendersons. He tore half of it down to repair something else, in a new place. Maybe they can too. She thinks of the laughter, of the three lost children, of the evil in this house. She doesn’t want to stay here in this place. She wants to move on, move past what’s holding her back.

Scully takes his hand and interlaces their fingers. They both stare at their hands as if they were a small wonder. Maybe they are.

“I want to be here, do this with you. I- I should probably tell you what I saw in there or what I thought I saw. Maybe there’s an X-Files here after all.”

“You don’t have to, X-Files or not.”

“I want to,” she says. “But not here. Let’s keep driving. Okay?”

He nods. “Just one thing before I lose my nerve again or before anything else happens.” He lowers his head, giving her ample time to move away. She won’t. She wants this. She’s been wanting it for so long. Their lips meet and everything around them stops mattering. It’s a soft kiss, a hesitant first. There’s still some rubble between them that they need to clean up.

There will be time to do that later.

“I’ve always wanted to make out at a haunted house,” Mulder admits when they disconnect. Her lipstick is smeared against his mouth, a bit on his cheek, too.

“Why am I not surprised?” she says with a smile.

“Let’s go. I think there’s something you wanted to tell me.”

[not-poignant]

Hihii for the question meme, could you do 29, 62, 86 and 98?

Hi hi hi! I certainly can :D (Well, I can try)

29. best way to bond with you? 

*thinks* Slow and patient, and usually online first if someone knows me in real life. I am very quick to make acquaintances with someone, but very slow to make friendships, and sometimes it just takes a lot of time and willingness to understand that I’m very reclusive by nature? I’m thinking of the friendships I’ve made over the past few years. And I’d say... the people who have been willing to show patience and trust that my reclusiveness isn’t a personal attack on them, are the people I’m actually more likely to open up to over time.

But I’d also be the first to say I’m pretty hard to bond with. I hold a lot of people at arm’s length, and I prefer not to bond with most people. Which is probably a weird thing to say, now that I think about it.

Also if a person enjoys eating different foods or going out into nature a lot, that helps a great deal :D

62. seven characters you relate to? 

Kiriyama Rei from March Comes in Like a Lion. There’s a lot of personal reasons for this choice, including my childhood in a chess family, and knowing what that pressure was like and sort of...yeah. Anyway. I haven’t vibed so hard with a character for a long time and I don’t expect to for many more years.

Murderbot from The Murderbot Diaries. This one happened by accident. I loved Murderbot, and then one day Glen just said ‘Pia, you ARE Murderbot’ and I realised that maybe I adored the character so much because I found them so hardcore relatable, lol.

Dazai Osamu from (actual history) Bungou Stray Dogs. A lot of reasons for this, but the cavalier constant suicidality, and the...what people think of as an atypical manifestation of depression (but honestly isn’t), and a brain that won’t fucking quit.

Beverly Lincoln from Episodes. Which makes me laugh because one of our close friends hated her from the first episode. But Glen agrees that this one’s on the money. Driven, pragmatic, political, but also impatient, quick to burn a bridge, and sometimes really annoying to be around.

Nakayama Haruki (Haru) from Given. The bassist. That one’s pretty personal, so I’m not going to talk about that one lol.

Dana Scully from The X-Files. In truth I don’t really relate to her much anymore. But kid me and teenage me related to her a lot!

FitzChivalry Farseer from The Farseer Trilogy. I mostly related to how incredibly done he was with the world, and all his chronic illnesses, and how much the world just never let him fucking rest or have a break. His absolute ‘I seem to exist for everyone else except these moments of weird selfishness which only ever further ruin my life’ is um, a whole mood, actually. :D

86. cookies or cupcakes? 

Honestly neither. Yuck. But I suppose out of the two, I’d go with biscuits (which is what we call cookies here). But it has to be on a day when my mouth is actually producing a decent amount of saliva, which is rare since radiotherapy blasted my head.

Mama Mahoney’s cupcakes at the Malaga Markets are pretty good too, but not so good that I’ve had them in the last three years.

98. favorite historical era? 

I don’t actually really have one. (Again, how do people pick favourites?) But also like, I would say I don’t really understand enough about historical eras to really have a favourite. Although I did like those Victorians for their kinky fucking ways, but I wouldn’t say that makes it a favourite historical era? Maybe just the entirety of ‘every historical era before colonisers came and fucked things up’ or ‘every historical era before the Christian or some other religious missionaries killed hundreds of thousands/millions of people with their diseases and converted and ruined the rest.’

(Er)

Idk, I don’t...connect well with history. Like there’s not really ever been a part of me that has gone ‘I wish I could go back to this time period and spectate/see what’s going on or experience that firsthand.’ If you go back to pre-colonial times, there’s the grief and anger of knowing what was taken forcibly away. If you go to post-colonial times, you’re still living among huge systemic issues (and as a queer person with a genetic cancer, I wouldn’t have fared well in the vast majority of those eras). 

I know this question isn’t meant to be complicated, but I can’t get over the ‘it’s complicated’ hurdle to see the simple upbeat answer.

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From this meme