#sweet-scully-sighs | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

chellestrash · 1 year ago

Text

After work

Fox Mudler x F!Reader summary: You decide to make the unwinding after work a bit more interesting for Mulder warnings: teasing, mentions of smut, implied smut. Just something short, sweet and fun for the end of the year. word count: 2.2K a/n: this is me trying to get out of my writing/art block. ALSO, first time writing Mulder! Thank you @chelseasdagger for editing this!

You lay on the small couch in Mulder’s apartment, resting on your side, turned to face the room as the gentle light from the TV shines onto your face. Some low budget horror movie plays quietly on the small screen, but to be completely honest, you don’t pay much attention to it, choosing to have it on as a means of killing time. You usually finish your work before Mulder does, even on the off chance he might leave the office at a normal hour. Killing time until you get to see him in the evening wasn't an unusual thing for you now you didn't mind it.

A cheap gag in the movie makes you sigh quietly before you look away, glancing up at the small window above Mulder's desk. You frown, suddenly realizing the late hour.

You check the time, squinting at the clock on the bookshelf next to the sofa, before glancing at the phone on the desk.

The thought of calling him passes by your mind, but you brush it off quickly. You weren't too worried about him, not today, the case him and Scully have been currently working on didn't seem particularly dangerous or high risk, at least not from what he's been able to share with you over the phone.

The subtle sound of house keys on the other side of the door to the apartment makes you smile, perking your head up and turning to face him.

“Well, well, well…look who's here.”

He speaks first, pretending he wasn't expecting to see you there.

“You mind telling me how you managed to get into my apartment, ma’am?”

Rolling your eyes at the tease, you turn away to face the TV again.

“I broke in using the keys you gave me.”

You explain without taking your eyes off of the movie, snuggling into the pillow harder while he pulls the work jacket off his shoulders and makes his way over to the couch.

“Well, damn.”

He mumbles quietly, his usual monotone voice makes the corner of your lips pull up slightly.

“I need to be more careful about handing out my spare keys, huh? I mean, what is this? It's like anyone can just walk in, lay on my couch and make themselves at home.”

“Oh, anyone?”

You raise your eyebrow, glancing up at him in an accusatory manner.

“Well…”

His lips push into a small pout.

“You got me, I give up.”

You breathe out a small laugh as he leans down, pressing his lips to the side of your head gently before moving away. He loosens the tie around his neck and tosses it off to the side before he unbuttons the top couple of buttons on his shirt.

“So…”

He starts after a moment once you pull your legs closer to your chest to make room for him on the couch by your feet. He sits down, lifting your legs up slightly just to rest them gently in his lap.

“What are we watching?”

He asks, fingers slowly rubbing up and down your calves.

“Ummm…not sure. Killer clowns, I think?”

“UUUuu, spooky.”

Mulder hums, unimpressed, and you chuckle at the reaction. There's a pause and you both actually pay attention to the movie for a short while.

“Aliens?”

You glance over at him, catching the small smile when you ask the work related question.

“No um… no, it was vampires, actually.”

He explains and you nod.

“Real ones?”

The smile widens as you seem genuinely interested. At least somewhat.

“Well…technically, yeah, you could say that but, you know.”

“No evidence?”

He shrugs.

“No evidence.”

“I mean, it's a possibility, right? You've handled cases like that before.”

You state, and Mulder nods, agreeing with you, his hand slowly rubbing over your thigh. He turns away from the TV, now looking directly at you.

“Do you think I should remind you that that is classified government information, you technically know nothing about, huh?”

“Oh, I'm soooorry.”

You talk back, head now propped up in your hand, face turned away from the movie you found yourself no longer interested in watching.

“Guess I just overheard it when you were talking in your sleep.”

“Hey!’

Mulder reacts immediately, and you can't help the laugh leaving your body when he pulls you up and into his lap with a slightly offended expression.

“.... I talk in my sleep?”

He asks, hands rubbing over your lower back while you throw your leg onto the other side of him, straddling his thighs in effect.

“Oh, not at all.”

You mumble quietly, pushing a couple strands of hair that fell forward onto his forehead away from his face with a soft smile, and he offers a small one in return.

“You know what? If I didn't know you any better, I would've said that didn't sound too convincing.”

He points out in the quiet, monotone voice, and you shrug your shoulders softly.

“I mean, I could’ve just read your mind, and you'd never know.”

“Oh, yeah?”

He asks with a slightly raised eyebrow.

“You're changing your confession now?”

He teases in a typical Mulder manner, and your smile grows bigger as you tilt your head to the side, letting him continue after a moment.

“So what-what you're trying to say is I work a case all week, and then I come back home to relax, and now I have another X-file on my hands? Is that what you're trying to say?”

You smirk, glancing up at him innocently.

“Oh, I'm not trying to say anything except that I missed you.”

He smiles so big, his teeth shine in the light of the TV screen.

“Me? You, missed ME?”

You hum quietly, confirming your confession as you rub your hand up along his chest.

“Well, that's good to know. Why didn't you call to tell me earlier, hmm?”

“Didn't want to interrupt you at work.”

You explain yourself, and he shakes his head gently before whispering your name softly.

“You are the only person who I want to interrupt my work, okay?”

His thumb brushes over your cheek, and you lean into the touch, staring into those dark brown, puppy dog eyes.

“Okay.”

“So you missed me?”

He goes back to your earlier point, and you breathe out a small laugh.

“I need to try and remember that next time I'm at the office, huh?”

“I mean.”

You brush your hand over his shoulder and down his arms.

“I wouldn't complain.”

You shift your position in his lap, and he grunts, feeling the weight of your body now directly between his legs, his grip on you tightening slightly.

“Oh, but I know you have your vampires and aliens and things you need to deal with over there.”

You speak softly, your fingers gently tracing over the shirt. Your head tilts to the side slightly as you try to make sure your words actually reach him. His eyes jump around your face as you talk, stopping at your lips for longer than they would in a usual conversation before he tilts his head down, eyes now fixed on the spot where your body presses against him between his legs. His hand moves up your back, pushing at the hem of your shirt.

“Hey.”

You start again when he doesn't respond.

“Earth to Mulder?”

“Hmm?”

He mumbles, questioning what you've just said, clearly too lost in the situation to pay actual attention to what's being said.

“When did you stop listening?”

“What?”

He blinks a couple of times before frowning, offended that you’d question his ability to listen to you…under the circumstances.

“Oh, I actually heard everything, for your information.”

He states confidently, and you raise your eyebrows, doubting his words.

“Oh, you did?”

He nods, slipping his hand right under your shirt, his palm flat against your bare back now.

“Yep, everything, yeah. Loud and clear.”

Still slightly out of it, he nods again quickly, doing his best to sound as convincing as possible despite the evidence you feel, oh so clearly, pressing against your body from underneath you.

“So, what did I say?”

You push.

“You said you missed me.”

He starts, and you can't really argue with that.

“And then you also mentioned how I am the best looking federal agent you ever dated, I'm pretty sure.”

Not giving you much time to disagree, or call him out, he raises you off of his lap, swiftly helping you lay back down on the couch. You lay under him as he leans closer to you, his hands playing with the hem of your shirt, his eyes stuck on yours.

“I don't think I said that.”

You frown.

“But you said you missed me.”

He points out again.

“And you called me an X-File.”

You mumble, unimpressed, and he laughs, shaking his head before it hangs low above your chest.

“I mean, you could argue that was a compliment? Maybe?”

You roll your eyes, a smile back on your face as you decide to let him have it this one time.

“Okay, yeah, that's what I'll do.”

You glance down, slowly raising your knee up, nudging at the bulge in his gray slacks.

Mulder hums quietly, grinding his hips down slightly as a response to your move. His hands linger over your body, one now under your shirt, the other on the side of your neck.

“Yeah?”

He asks, his voice soft, his touch gentle but impatient.

“Yeah.”

“Yeah and-”

He leans down, pressing his lips against your neck, and you tilt your head back slightly in response, a silent invitation for him to continue.

“I think I deserve some extra credit.”

He mumbles, his words breaking up between the kisses. He slowly moves lower and lower down your torso as he pulls the fabric of your shirt up to expose more and more of your skin, until finally pulling the fabric off and over your head. He tosses the shirt off to the side and his lips find their way back to your body, right above the waistband of your jeans.

“Credit for?”

You glance back down, your hands pushing through his hair when he looks back up into your eyes, lost in the moment, in the kisses and in the feel of your body under his.

“Creativity?”

You laugh, head falling back down onto the couch, fingers still in his hair as you feel his lips back on your body.

“Yeah, okay, I'll give you that.”

You purr softly. As gentle as possible, you scratch at the back of his neck, the short hair prickling the tips of your fingers softly. He lets out a satisfied hum, resting his head right below your belly button, facing you with his eyes directly on yours. You push your hips up slightly, feeling his fingers brush over the sides of your body, and he glances down between your legs before turning his head up to look towards your face again.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, you get extra points, Agent Mulder. Now c'mere.”

Instructing him to move closer to you, you push your lips against his when his face is inches away from yours. He moans into the kiss, and in response you do the same as the kiss deepens more and more. Feeling his touch firmer on your body now, you reach down, palming the bulge through the fabric of his pants. There's a loud grunt, he breaks the kiss, his lips parted, eyes closed as his lips curl up into a big smile.

“Well, good job, me.”

He mumbles quietly, tracing his hand down your body, fingers curling under the waistband of your jeans while his big, brown eyes open and find yours once again.

“I think maybe-maybe I should try to earn more of these points, huh?”

Mulder asks, his thumb rubbing over the skin above your jeans.

“I think you really should.”

You agree quickly, nodding and pushing your hips up slightly at the same time.

“You got any-”

He pauses for a moment, placing a wet kiss on the skin right under your belly button, and you feel the warmth between your legs grow significantly stronger.

“Any idea how I could do that?”

He kisses the same spot again, then moves slightly lower, then lower and lower again before working the zipper open. Slowly pulling the fabric down your thighs, he brushes his lips over the newly exposed skin, and a moan slips past your lips.

He chuckles loudly at the sound, shaking his head when you look back down with a soft smirk.

“Oh, Agent Mulder, I think you know very well how you can do that.”

“Oh, yeah?”

He asks, in a lighter tone this time.

“I mean, I'm pretty much just guessing here, I-”

He quickly glances between your two bodies.

“I have precisely zero idea what I am doing here right now.”

You scoff loudly, pushing his face away and letting your head fall back onto the couch again.

“Too much sarcasm, too little action there, Mulder.”

You squirm impatiently under his body, hungry from the promise of pleasure.

“Copy that.”

He nods quickly, the big smile never leaving his face for even a second before he buries his face between your legs.

#x files #the x files #x files fanfic #fox mulder #fox mulder x reader #fox mulder fanfiction #david duchovny #fox mulder smut #mulder x reader #mulder x you

628 notes · View notes

aloysiavirgata · 30 days ago

Note

Some prompt ideas, because why not: -Someone finds a picture of Scully that Mulder keeps in a drawer at home (early MSR) -Five times Mulder carried Scully -MSR second kiss -literally anything else because everything you write is positively gorgeous

He kisses her mouth the first time when she’s actively dying, which they laugh about later. The first time she tastes of chapstick and yellow Gatorade and he didn’t know he was going to do it but Scully did and her eyes were bright and wet.

(“Your bad boy leather jacket,” she cackles, years down the road. “God, Mulder, your hair.”)

***

He doesn’t kiss her again after Van Blundht because he feels guilty, because he feels the first one is what made her let her guard down.

It makes him mean to her.

***

He is “driven dangerously forward in his impossible pursuit.”

He has scabs on his forehead and scars on his heart and Scully shows up with a deli bag and shadows under her eyes. He thinks there is a rime of dried blood beneath her nose, but maybe it’s just their combined exhaustion.

She slips under his arm, past his defenses, like she always has. All in black and she curls into the shadows of his leather sofa. She puts two turkey sandwiches on the coffee table. Squeezes Dijonnaise on them both from a little packet and licks it from her thumb.

He is bone-weary. Lonely, sad. “Go home,” he sighs, and he thinks he means it.

Scully holds up a clear clamshell containing a wedge of cheesecake. “Halvesies?”

“Scully, I don’t-“

Blood for certain now, blood like the fake cherry sauce on the cheesecake dripping down her face and fucking Christ he’ll go to her hell if he kisses her now but he’s killed them both, so what can it matter?

The plastic container hits the floor when he leans down towards her.

She tastes of mustard and pennies and salt and her mouth has the tender firmness of a beach plum. Her tongue is hot wet sand.

No gentleness this time, no angelic fluffy robe and fluorescent hospital lights. No starry-sweet gaze. Just the hard basket of her ribs in his hands and her shifting thighs and her arching back.

“Mulder,” she gasps, her nimble fingers in his hair and her sharp white teeth at his lips and he wants her to bite him and bleed him so she can live forever.

#xf fanfic #xfiles fanfic #msr #my fic #prompt #inbox #demons #memento mori #cancer arc

70 notes · View notes

cecilysass · 2 months ago

Text

Beacon (6/6)

Read on AO3 | Tagging @today-in-fic and my poangpal @libbytxf

Chapter 6

Back in his room, she pulls out her medical bag and makes him endure an entire exam, which he tolerates without any comment because she still seems so jumpy.

He doesn’t even make any jokes about playing doctor. He just watches her closely. Her fingers are slightly trembling as she slips her stethoscope under his shirt to listen for his heart.

When she’s finished, she drops down to sit on the bed next to him, looking dazed.

“You’re fine,” she says like she’s sincerely surprised. “Your eyes are a little bloodshot from the coughing, but I think you’re going to be fine.”

“Thanks, Doc,” he says in a dry husk, smiling self-consciously.

She begins to busy herself artlessly stuffing her stethoscope and penlight back in her bag. “You should probably get some rest,” she says distractedly. “We can—you know—discuss the rest of the case in the morning.”

“The rest of the case?” he says.

“Right,” she says. She closes up the bag and stands. “I’ll wash your sweatshirt and sweatpants and return them later, of course. Do you need anything else before I go?”

“Scully,” he rasps.

“Glass of water maybe?”

“Come on,” he says, and catches her hand in his. “You just can’t leave me here thinking about what you said all night.”

With a tiny reluctant sigh she sits back down. He keeps a firm hold on her hand.

“It’s true?” he asks her, trying to meet her eyes. “You weren’t lying for the ghost?”

“Lying for the ghost?” She performs a miniature eye roll, as though that suggestion were beneath her dignity. “Mulder.”

“To save me,” he insists. “You could’ve been. Or… exaggerating.”

“Of course not,” she protests. Her voice softens. “I didn’t lie at all.”

There’s a pause as he lets that sink in. He allows his thumb to lightly run over her knuckles: once, twice.

“Just so you know, I’d, uh, never have brought any of this up on my own,” Mulder flounders in his scratchy voice. “I’d never have presumed that … I mean, I understand about work. Professionalism. Keeping things separate. Feelings don’t necessarily have to be acted on.”

“Right.” Scully’s chin moves up and down. She lets the moment hang there before adding quietly, “I wouldn’t have brought it up on my own either.”

His heart sinks. It’s more than he could hope for, he reminds himself, even knowing his feelings are shared. He could be pretty happy with that much. That and being alive, despite a very close call.

Scully turns to look at him like she’s expecting him to say something else, but he can’t think of what else would add to the conversation. Maybe this is where he should start lying: oh good, Scully, I was hoping you’d agree we should just act like this never happened.

They’re sitting close, their joined hands resting on his leg. Her expression shifts from expectant to a little pained, and her entire body lists toward his. He doesn’t realize she’s about to kiss him until it’s happening, until she’s already pulling away, looking at him with enormous eyes.

That felt like a question, he realizes. You better come up with the right answer.

Before he can stop to second guess, he slips his hand around her neck and pulls the back of her head towards him, managing to crush her lips to his. He kisses her with a force that startles him. Her lips are soft and part quickly for him. She tastes very faintly of cherry.

Mulder knows he should keep this sweet and slow, the way she deserves—but his body prefers swift and intense. Destabilized again by want, he thinks fleetingly. He reminds himself to hold back. His body tenses like a bowstring.

She pulls her mouth away and presses her forehead to his, letting her thumbs drag jagged lines down his jaw. “Does your chest hurt?” she whispers, frowning.

“No, no.” He shakes his head jerkily, giving her a sheepish smile. “I’m just, uh, awfully worked up.”

“Is that a problem?” she asks, cocking her head.

“Only because I don’t want to be an asshole.”

With a tiny knowing smile she leans in to kiss him. This time she is more overtly passionate, gripping him tighter, her mouth teasing his expertly. She scoots herself closer and closer until she is effectively sitting in his lap.

The sudden proximity of her squirming body causes him to squeeze his eyes closed. He makes a creaky, unflattering groaning sound and burrows his face into her neck in embarrassment.

“Ohhh Scully,” he murmurs, muffled, “what happens next here?”

She doesn’t say anything for a moment, and when she does, her voice is careful. “I was assuming I might…” She pauses. “Is it okay with you if I stay?”

Her apparent nervousness makes him bury a smile into the warm, soft crook of her neck. “I think that would be okay with me, yes.”

She puts both of her hands on his cheeks, abruptly pulling his face directly to hers. Her expression is serious, her eyes wide and solemn. She whispers very close, her breath on his lips: “You scared me today, Mulder.”

“I’m … sorry.”

“I know,” she says. “But…” She rakes her fingers through his hair, and he feels waves of warmth breaking all over his body. “You can’t leave me like that. Alone. I don’t even like it when you’re late and you don’t call. If you were… I couldn’t—” Her voice breaks a little.

She’s not as articulate as usual, but he understands her nonetheless—the urgency of what she is trying to say.

He knows she’s thinking of her sister. He knows what it is to be sitting in the dark, waiting forever for the person you lost. He knows there’s a reason why Hero followed Leander into the arms of the cruel black sea.

Leaning into her gently caressing fingers, he realizes he doesn’t know exactly what to say to her.

Her touches make his skin prickle, quicken his breathing, send blood coursing, revive all of his body. All reminders he doesn’t have to respond in words. There are other ways to tell her they’re both still here.

***

The persistent knock on the door wakes Scully. Bang bang bang. It’s not going away, she can tell.

She lifts herself from the pillow and away from Mulder’s possessive arm to squint at the clock. It’s seven a.m., much too early to be disturbed after their eventful night.

She looks around at her immediate surroundings. She has one leg wedged under the quilt in between Mulder’s, and as she more fully sits up in the bed, pushing off the cover, he makes a complaining grunt. When she manages to stand up, he grabs the quilt eagerly and flops over in bed, curling himself up into a ball under the cover.

Well. After all of that respiratory distress—and various other activities last night—he could probably use extra rest.

Bang bang bang.

Scully sighs and looks down at her attire. At some point in the middle of the night, she’d reached for Mulder’s giant sweatshirt and slipped it back on; her practical side deciding it was too cold for a whole night of sleeping nude, post coital spooning or no. But she’s still naked from the waist down. She looks around for the sweatpants and finds them on the floor, slipping them on quickly.

Whoever is banging on the door tries another time.

“Hold on,” she calls, smoothing her hair back furiously. She reaches the door, jerking it open, trying to focus her sleep-addled mind.

“Agent Scully,” Duncan says, surprised. “I—”

Scully remembers too late that this one was Mulder’s room. Duncan’s eyes are probably adjusting to the dark room behind her: the curled-up body in the bed, the scattered clothes.

“Good morning, Duncan,” Scully says with a sigh, bearing this revelation of her private business stoically. “May I help you?”

“I just wanted to tell you and Agent Mulder that I realized something rather … crucial to the case,” Duncan says, making a Herculean effort to tactfully avert his eyes from the background scene.

“Oh?” she says. She glances back at Mulder, who has not moved from where he’s huddled under the covers. “If you give me a moment, I’ll join you downstairs in the kitchen. You can fill me in.”

***

“Something you said yesterday made me think of it,” Duncan explains eagerly, filling her coffee cup. “You told Banoy and me that lighting the brass lanterns was supposed to be lucky.”

“I did,” she agrees, accepting the cup gratefully.

“I assumed that’s because the lanterns were like Hero’s beacon light,” Duncan continues, “or at least that there was a rough association. Light shining in the darkness and all that.”

She holds the cup to her lips, taking a sip, nodding. Duncan is placing a manila folder filled with photos on the kitchen table.

“So let me show you this.” He triumphantly lays an image in front of her. “The exterior of the Inn last spring.”

“Before the renovation,” Scully says, picking the photo up and examining it. It looks different, the shape of the entrance to the house, although she recognizes the walkway and the door. It definitely appeared more generally rundown: peeling paint, dilapidated ornamentation, a slight sag.

“You see the porch? The top? Its shape?” Duncan nods towards the photo.

In the photo the decorative trim on the top of the porch seems to have square corners with a jagged decorative pattern running underneath. It looks like sections of the decorative pattern had fallen off, like missing teeth of a jack o’lantern.

“Look,” Duncan says, pointing at the pattern. “They’re flames. See the little spikes?”

Scully studies the photo more closely and sees that he is right. The little jagged parts are tongues of fire. The top of the porch seems meant to resemble a lantern.

“The porch was designed to look like a lantern light,” she realizes aloud. “Like a giant beacon.”

“I never noticed it before,” Duncan says, pink with excitement. He pulls out another photo to show her another angle. “Probably because it’d fallen apart so much over the years. And I think the little decorative flourishes added on by the Victorians disguised it somewhat. But the porch was obviously originally designed to look like Hero’s beacon light.”

“And like the brass lamps inside the house,” Scully says, fascinated.

“Exactly,” Duncan says.

Scully takes in every detail of the photo, trying to put the pieces together.

“So when you tore that part of the porch down for the renovations…”

“Hero’s beacon light was gone,” Duncan says. “And that prompted some kind of reaction from her. She goes from a colorful New England legend to … I don’t know, a scene from a horror movie. But of course we had no idea demolishing the porch would invoke a ghostly serial killer.”

Scully shakes her head, looking out the window at the tranquil snow-blanketed town below. She wonders if the old family, the descendants of the Younge family, might have known something about this all along.

“So what do you plan to do now?” she asks Duncan.

“Well, it won’t make Banoy very happy,” Duncan says, “but clearly we need to turn our porch roof back into a beacon light. Even if our renovations take a few more weeks. I mean… a murderous ghost is bad for business.”

“I… I guess you’re right,” Scully says, her shoulders lifting and falling. “It’s as logical as anything, I suppose.”

“Anyway, Banoy and I can come up with a better faux beacon design than what was there before,” Duncan says.

“Something less last century,” Scully deadpans. She pinches the bridge of her nose in consternation. “It’s just hard to accept that you have to consult with a ghost about your architectural choices.”

Duncan gives her a sly look. “Am I to assume you’re a believer in ghosts now, Agent Scully?”

“With … many caveats.”

“A lot can change overnight,” he says significantly.

She places both hands around her coffee cup, her cheeks pink. “Yes.” She swirls her coffee slightly. “That’s true.”

“Maybe you and Agent Mulder should go back to Washington for now. I’m sure you’d like to be home for the holidays,” Duncan suggests. “We can check in with you again after a month when our renovation is finished. We can let you know if anything significant has changed.”

She nods, biting her lip. “I will pass that suggestion along.”

“Maybe next month you two could come back up for the weekend,” Duncan says. “Make a trip of it.” He folds his hands and regards her with amusement. “Only to see if anything has changed, of course.”

The corners of Scully’s mouth curl up involuntarily.

***

From the car window Scully watches as Mulder hurries down the neatly shoveled sidewalk from the entrance to the archives building. He throws open the car door and anxiously jumps into the driver’s seat next to her.

“I’m freezing,” Mulder whines, slamming the door shut behind him and rubbing his hands together.

“Why aren’t you wearing gloves? A scarf?” Scully asks unsympathetically. “Why aren’t you dressed for the winter?”

“It was just a fast errand,” he says, making a mock sad face. “Running in and out. I didn’t want to bother with all that.”

“Well, did Mrs. Davenport appreciate the soup?” Scully prompts him. “What did she say?”

“You know, I actually think she did,” he says, a look of satisfaction spreading over his face as he glances back at the archive building. “I told her that Banoy made the soup just for her, and that he wanted me to invite her to visit the Inn and talk to him and Duncan about the ghost. She seemed flattered. And excited to share what she knew.”

“That sounds even better than you hoped for,” she says. “Look at you, bringing the local populace together.”

“She did ask if I’d be coming to the Inn for the history lesson, too,” Mulder admits. “She seemed a little disappointed when I said I wouldn’t be.”

“Yeah, I bet she was,” Scully comments dryly.

“I might have led her to believe Duncan and Banoy wanted her advice in designing the new porch,” Mulder adds, shrugging.

“That is definitely not what they said,” Scully says. “You made that up.”

“The important thing is to get them talking,” Mulder says dismissively. “They’ll be able to better understand how to work safely with their house ghost if Mrs. Davenport and the old family share what they know.” He fishes his keys out. “All the rest is details.”

“Okay then—mission accomplished,” Scully says. She has the impulse to ruffle his hair in congratulatory affection, but it’s so far out of their typical vocabulary of gestures towards one another. She squeezes her own hands in her lap. “It sounds like we’re ready to get on the road, right?”

“Right.” Mulder throws her an enigmatic look as he turns the engine on. “Back in plenty of time for Christmas, just like I said.”

She decides to attempt a bolder comment. “You’re in a good mood this morning, Mulder.”

He flashes her a mischievous look and then peers in the rear view mirror to back the car onto the street.

“I sure am,” he says, grinning.

“Any reason?”

“Hot date for Christmas, remember?”

She faces straight forward, but allows her subdued expression to burst into a wide smile, too. “Of course. I forgot.”

He begins to steer through the little town, which seems even quieter this morning than the evening they drove in. Behind the steepled church, Scully notices a sleepy graveyard blanketed in drifts of snow. She wonders if that is where Sophonia Younge was buried.

“You know, Scully, I was thinking,” Mulder says conversationally. “If you’re now accepting ghosts as part of your worldview, I can put a few more cases on the docket for the new year.”

She eyes him warily, but he continues.

“Just off the top of my head, I can think of a famous case of a haunted hotel in Savannah, Georgia. A similar situation to this one, except the apparition of Anna Powers doesn’t murder people. Just kind of rearranges hotel guests’ clothes and that kind of thing.”

“Rearranges clothes.”

“Yes, most ghosts are actually benevolent entities,” Mulder says cheerfully. “Miss Younge being a notable exception.” He turns the steering wheel as they head off on the country highway. “There’s also the ghost of Peg Entwhistle in California, a 1930s actress who ended her life at the Hollywood sign and haunts it to this very day. She just makes appearances—typical Hollywood. You like L.A., right?”

“You understand our job is to investigate when crimes have been committed,” Scully says. “We’re not actually freelance ghost hunters.”

“If you’re up for some international travel, there’s a ghost I remember from my Oxford days. A Puritan girl named Prudence who was abandoned by her lover, sighted repeatedly on Magpie Lane,” Mulder says. “Don’t you want to try to meet her?”

“A ghost you remember from your Oxford days,” Scully repeats flatly. “Magpie … Lane.”

“It’s a real place,” insists Mulder, smirking. “I didn’t make it up.”

“How many ghosts are wronged women, Mulder?”

“I don’t have the exact numbers, but we can certainly investigate that question, Scully,” he says. “It does seem like a lot. I mean—you can guess why, though.”

“Why?”

“Women are more likely to die without justice,” he says. “So their souls linger behind to try to right the wrongs.”

She leans back in her seat and watches the austere winter trees fly by the window, contemplating what he’s said.

“Not always,” she replies pensively. “Their souls don’t always linger.”

He doesn’t say anything to that right away, and she can practically hear the gears of his mind whirring in the seat next to her. It feels strange, discussing her innermost thoughts so openly with Mulder, but she doesn’t hate it either.

“No,” he says finally. “I guess not always, Scully. Sometimes they leave someone living behind …someone else who has to try to right the wrongs.”

“Yes.” The word feels weighted.

“Do you… wish it were otherwise? That your sister were still here as an apparition?”

“Of course I wish I could see Missy again,” Scully replies to the window. “But to see her haunting my apartment, seeking justice eternally? To see her continuing to exist as a kind of … empty spot, a missing space where my sister used to be?”

“No,” guesses Mulder. “You don’t want that.”

“No,” Scully agrees. “The dead should be free to go on.”

“The living, too,” Mulder says. “Right?”

She looks over at him. His eyes are on the road, but he glances to make brief eye contact with her.

“Yes,” she agrees soberly. “The living, too.”

The car turns into a stretch of thicker overhead trees, and the light in the car becomes sudden blue-gray and dim, patchy with the shadows of limbs reaching over their heads.

Kind of ghostly, she thinks.

She thinks about what sort of things she wishes she were free to do as a living, breathing person. Things she hasn’t done enough. Things her sister would have urged her to do more.

There’s at least one obvious answer.

“Mulder,” she says, as the car winds deeper into the dark and frozen forest, “what day is your hot Christmas date?”

He gives her a look. “You know I don’t really have one, right?”

She leans down to adjust the heat in the car. “You could, though,” she says casually.

“Oh,” he says. “Oh.” His eyes shoot back over to her. “In that case … it’s tonight.” He looks over at her again, checking her expression. “Or tomorrow. Or, you know, the next day.”

“In other words, your schedule is flexible.”

“For that particular social obligation?” He lowers his voice. “Yes.”

“Then soon,” she says softly. “Very soon.”

The road follows alongside a small river, clear and cold, crashing over rocks. She watches it as she reaches for Mulder’s right hand, wrapping her fingers tightly around his. He makes a humming sound.

The river moves too fast to freeze; it never stops its chaotic rush and flow. It pushes on through the darkest corners of the forest.

#poangpresents2024 #x files fanfic #xfiles fanfic #the x files #xf fanfic #fox mulder #dana scully #msr #beacon #season 3 #XF season 3

69 notes · View notes

phillippadgettwrites · 1 month ago

Text

The First Time, Every Time: Darkness Falls

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

Scully’s eyes snap open and she sits up abruptly, disoriented and immediately afraid. She grabs at the back of her neck and swipes her hands down her forearms over and over. She can’t see, but she can feel the creeping sensation all over her skin, down the backs of her legs and in her hair. She’s afraid to breathe, to open her mouth and scream, to try and call for help. She flails, and twists, and panics completely unproductively, just like she did before. She already knows there’s nothing she can do.

“Scully!”

Mulder’s voice cuts through her panic like a dull blade, slowly bringing her back to reality. She feels the weight of his hands on her shoulders, smells the heat of his breath as he leans in close. Sour, like he may have been sleeping. Like quite some time has passed since she accepted his offer to stand watch while she attempted to sleep with the lights off for the first time since they arrived at the containment center over a week ago.

“Sorry,” she breathes out, quickly slipping from panic to embarrassment.

Mulder sighs and his hands slide across her upper back before he pulls her into a hug. Against her better judgment, Scully lets her head fall against his chest. It just feels good to be held.

“It’s okay,” he says. His voice vibrates against her ear and she closes her eyes, exhausted but too hopped up on adrenaline to fall back asleep.

“I had a dream,” she explains.

“I know,” he says.

They’ve been cooped up with nothing to do, nowhere to go, and no one to talk to but each other. Time moves strangely here, making hours feel like days. They’ve been one another’s lifelines, their tie to reality.

“I can’t sleep,” she tells him tearfully, wetting his T-shirt, and he pulls her closer.

“I’m sorry,” he says.

She’s spent the better part of the week trying to convince him that it’s not all his fault. That he doesn’t owe her anything, apologies or otherwise. He still doesn’t believe her. But she needs him to, because his guilt is too heavy, even by proxy, and it doesn’t help her sleep.

“Stop it,” she chastises, lifting her head and looking up at him through the inky dark.

“If it weren’t for me—”

She presses her fingers to his lips to quiet him. Soft, warm lips.

“Please don’t do that,” she begs.

His lips twitch under her fingers, threatening to speak. Instead, they purse against her skin with a soft smack.

She might be delirious, she thinks. She might have imagined it. She might be imagining pulling her hand away and replacing it with her mouth. Reality moves strangely here, making it feel as though any moment she might wake up in a cocoon. Is her tongue in his mouth? She’s not completely sure.

Mulder’s hands on her are greedy and urgent while his words are tender and placating. He stuffs his hand down the back of her sweatpants, grabbing at her ass.

“Is this okay?”

He pushes her T shirt up to expose her breasts, hungrily scooping a nipple into his mouth.

“Can I take this off?”

Two thick fingers push into her, and she gasps at the sweet stretch.

“Am I hurting you?”

It’s so dark that she can’t see her hand in front of her face, much less his naked body, but she feels it. The heat of his skin, the firm planes of his chest and belly, the silky stiffness of his cock in her hand. It’s like a dream. Is it a dream? Is he moving over her? Is she spreading her legs wide for him, guiding him into her wet heat?

He’s big, and not just because she’s small. As gentle as he is, it hurts, and she squeezes her eyes shut tight while her mouth opens in a silent cry. Mulder stills, breathing hard, and after a moment the sharp sting fades away. She arches up into him, and he heaves a ragged sigh.

He fucks her slow and deep, drawing all the way out before he slides back in and presses his pelvis tightly against hers. She feels him everywhere: his hands, his lips, his bare skin brushing over hers, the length of him stroking her from the inside. She’s not in a cocoon. She doesn’t think. She hopes not.

She tugs him down by the neck, bringing him close enough to kiss. Close enough to grind against her clit while he fucks her. Close enough to make her come.

“God, you feel incredible,” he mumbles, and it makes her cunt pulse.

It was supposed to be a nice trip to the forest. That’s what he keeps saying. They are, technically speaking, still in the forest, and this….this feels very nice.

“What do you need?” he asks tightly.

She doesn’t understand the question. What else could she possibly need right now?

Mulder shifts his hips down, changing the angle at which he’s sliding into her and making her toes tingle.

“Yes,” she whispers, her nails carving a path across his back. “Like that.”

He groans with restraint, tucking his face into the crook of her neck. He won’t say it, but she knows he’s close. She won’t tell him that she is too; that would be too real.

She’s surprised by the force of her own orgasm, the intensity of the build up. It just keeps going higher and higher, twisting her muscles up so tight she feels like a rubber band about to snap.

Mulder’s breath catches and his hips quicken. Does he feel her? Does he know?

She lets out a single, unrestrained yelp when it hits her, blinding her with pleasure from the crown of her head to the tips of her toes. Her whole body comes, clenching and releasing, rising and falling around her clit at the center of its universe. Mulder grunts and swears before she feels the heat of him leaking out of her, running down the seams of her legs. That makes her come even harder.

It lasts forever, or maybe less than a minute. Time moves strangely here. She doesn’t remember getting cleaned up, but they’re back in the bed and her eyes are so, so heavy. His arms around her feel safe, even with the lights off.

She sleeps, deep and dreamlessly. She doesn’t wake up in a cocoon.

#x files fanfic #the x files #xf fic #xf fanfic #smut

65 notes · View notes

leiascully · 5 months ago

Text

Fic: The Altar Is My Hips (M, MSR)

1500 words; M for sexual situations; the POÄNG pals wondered what would happen if Mulder proposed while eating pussy and here is the result (ao3)

Scully’s flat on her back in her bed with Mulder’s face between her legs. It’s her new favorite pastime. She’s got her hands in his silky hair and his tongue flicks at her clit in a steady rhythm. She lets her back arch, pushing her mound against his face. He hums in pleasure and licks a few lazy circles that leave her moaning.

Mulder, as she had always suspected, eats pussy like it’s his calling in life. Mulder eats pussy like other people eat oysters, and with twice as much relish. Maybe it’s that full lower lip or maybe it’s his nimble tongue or maybe it’s that distinguished profile, but Scully can’t resist. His face is a saddle and she’s ready to ride. Yee-haw.

She’s had lovers before who made it feel like a chore, but it’s obvious Mulder enjoys it. He’ll eat her out for hours, given the chance, moving from her on top to him on his knees to him pinning her to the bed to various configurations of 69. He’ll strip her down or tongue her through the nicer underwear she’s started wearing. She has to fuck him between sessions just to redistribute the sensation.

Maybe it’s the seven years of blue balls, but they’ve both been insatiable since they started fucking. She can’t get enough of him. She’s fairly sure Skinner’s noticed the way she’s been staring at Mulder during meetings, partly because she keeps putting the end of her pen in her mouth. It isn’t on purpose. She’s been hungry for so long, and now she’s got a buffet spread out in front of her. Or under her. Or on top of her. She’s flexible. So to speak.

Today she’s a pillow princess and Mulder’s doing all the work. All she has to do is lie back and not think of England. She has no thoughts when Mulder spreads her thighs. Her brain is blissfully empty, filled up with sparklers and fireflies and the heat of a perfect summer evening. Mulder’s made her come so hard she forgot how to speak. She wants him so much it makes her feel stupid. When he’s inside her, she doesn’t care about anything else in the world.

He sucks her clit gently into his mouth, teasing her. Sensation prickles through her. She’s got goosebumps. The tip of his tongue swirls over her clit, and then he rubs at her clit with the flat width of his tongue until it makes her vision go blurry. He moans into her and it’s such a fucking turn-on. If she wasn’t already drenched, she’d be wet just listening to him eat her out.

She combs her fingers through his hair, resisting the urge to grab a handful. She doesn’t always resist, but this isn’t that kind of occasion. This is sweet, deliciously leisurely. He’s been taking it very slow, pausing in his ministrations to kiss his way up the ticklish inside of her thigh. She’s sure she’s got a hickey just low enough that the hem of her underwear won’t conceal it. She’s lucky she doesn’t have one just above the back of her knee. Skinner would definitely raise an eyebrow over that one.

Mulder nudges her thighs further apart, pushing her open with the breadth of his shoulders. She splays her legs wide, putting herself on display for him. He makes a happy noise and pulls a little harder at her clit. She gasps and sighs. Her blood feels like hot honey, thick and sweet and slow. Her whole body is hot and loose. Need builds in her belly, but it’s a deliberate coiling, driven by the pace of Mulder’s tongue.

She doesn’t know how long she’s been here. She doesn’t care. She only knows that her body is a pleasure garden that Mulder cultivates. She’s magic. She’s the rocking of the ocean, punctuated by glints of sharper pleasure. Her orgasm feels inevitable, even in its early stages, but she doesn’t want to rush it. She’s enjoying herself, enjoying him enjoying her.

She can feel the moment his hunger shifts. He sucks harder at her, flicks his tongue faster. He knows how to drive her to the edge. He uses the tip of his tongue to tease the exquisitely sensitive bud of nerves under her clitoral hood and she yelps. The pleasure inside her grows. It’s hungrier than before. She needs more, or different, or something.

“Your fingers,” she manages to say, and he’s pushing inside her almost before she can say it. His elegant hands were made to fuck her. She’s convinced of it, despite any evidence to the contrary. Two fingers is usually enough, but not today. She’s starving for him. She wants him everywhere inside her. If he could eat her out and fuck her at the same time, she’d do it. She’d have an orgy of Mulders, one for every orifice and one to grow on.

“More,” she says, and a third finger joins the other two, thrusting deeper into her, seeking the spot he knows will make her come undone. She loves how well he knows her, how he still studies her. His attention is intense; she’s never felt anything like it. He shifts just a little and suddenly it feels like a kiss, somehow even more intimate than before. Fuck, she loves him. She whimpers as his fingers graze the right place and he groans against her clit.

It doesn’t take long after that. Not with his fingers fucking her and his mouth insistent on her most sensitive skin and his other hand reaching up to touch her breasts. She’s tugging at his hair now. Her thighs squeeze around his ears and she isn’t trying to suffocate him, but she can’t relax. Her body is drawn tight, vibrating like a bow string. He strums his tongue across her clit and his fingers work inside her and he’s tweaking one of her nipples and she’s caressing the other and oh God, she’s coming. Her hips buck and he pins her with one arm and licks her through the waves of pleasure. She shivers over and over, as if she’s chaining one orgasm to the next to the next, until finally it’s too much and she gently pushes him away. He raises his face and rests his chin on her thigh.

“God, Mulder, that was amazing.” She can’t catch her breath.

“Marry me,” he says. His face is wet. His lips glisten. He licks at them. She can’t tell if he’s nervous or relishing the moment.

She laughs and pushes up on her elbows to look at him. “What?”

“Marry me,” he says again. There’s something in his eyes that tells her it’s not a joke, but that’s hard to believe after all his previous proposals, variously in jest or inebriated.

“Isn’t that my line, after an orgasm like that?” she asks.

He huffs and his breath tickles her thigh. “If you’re trying to let me down easy, I get it.”

“Marry you,” she says.

He nods, his chin digging into her thigh.

She looks at him for a long moment. His eyes are dark with unsatisfied desire, but he waits as patiently as if they’re at the ticket counter at the airport. She measures his face with her eyes, as if she doesn’t know it by heart. She lets her heart open, a luxury she rarely allows herself. Love suffuses her as thoroughly as pleasure did, rippling through her until she can hardly breathe. Of course it’s Mulder. It’s always been Mulder. If it could be anyone, it’s Mulder. They’ve been pledged to each other since that night in Bellefleur when she stepped into his hotel room and showed him her skin and her naked fear and he showed her his soul in return.

“Okay,” she says.

His eyes light up. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” she says. She can wear a dress, white or otherwise. She can vow in front of God and her family to have and to hold him as long as they both shall live. She can wear his ring, be his wife, honor him, obey him (under very specific circumstances). The more she thinks about the idea, the better she likes it. “Will you marry me?”

“Of course I will,” he says.

“Come here,” she whispers, suddenly shy, and he hauls himself up the length of her body until she can kiss him. Mulder kisses like a fairytale: true love wrapped up in the strangest mysteries. She can taste herself on his mouth and feel the rigid heat of his cock against her hip. She shifts until he’s sliding between her folds, sliding into her, rocking slowly as they kiss. They make love; there’s no other word for it. They haven’t done it like this yet, somehow, though she would have sworn they’d tried it all. He moves in her, watching her, and she feels so new and so precious. Her eyes are glossy with tears, but so are his. She kisses his eyelids and he laughs a little. Her heart flares with heat. The world has been so cruel to him. Now he’s under her protection forever.

“Marry me?” he asks again as she arches under him.

“Yes,” she says as she comes again, “yes, yes, yes,” and she knows she’ll never stop saying it.

#leiascully fic #my fic #poang pals #xfiles fanfic #msr fic

99 notes · View notes

slippinmickeys · 3 months ago

Text

The Unseelie Court (3/16)

Scully was surprised to find that the Adrian County morgue had the budget to employ a diener, who met her at the autopsy bay door with a scowl. He was a gruff looking man, short and stocky though his hands were as big and thick as baseball mitts. His face was like a cartoon character, a Looney Tunes mob boss with a big nose and a jutting chin. He had inky hair and what looked like a perpetual five o’clock shadow with eyes so dark she couldn’t make out his pupils, even from up close.

She introduced herself, and he grunted.

“Aeon,” he said, shaking her hand and pointing out the locker room. “Have trouble finding the place?”

Scully shook her head. They’d come right from the crime scene. Mulder had dropped her off and headed to the hotel to check in.

“Have you been waiting long?” she asked him.

He looked at her with his head cocked to the side. On his left eyelid were a constellation of skin tags. He shrugged and turned away. Scully hefted her small bag over her shoulder and walked in the direction he’d pointed.

The locker room was small, cramped. She banged her elbow into the locker behind her as she changed into scrubs, and swore, shaking out her arm. Adjusting her watch band after the pain began to subside, she got a good look at the face. Her watch had stopped working.

She sighed, knowing what Mulder would say, and pulled out her laptop. If he was going to throw wild theories at her, she was determined to walk into the conversation prepared. Armed for bear.

There was nowhere to really sit, so she wandered down the hallway until she found a room with a few scattered tables and chairs.

It was a break room like any other—a few crumby tables, a gummy bottle of Dawn next to the sink, a microwave that probably needed to be cleaned. The walls were bare but for the ubiquitous Family and Medical Leave Act poster and the air was reedy with the chemical smell of Lean Cuisines. Scully scrunched her nose distastefully. Opened a search engine and dug in.

***

Mulder breezed into the autopsy suite with the sweet smell of the outdoors on his clothes, a marked contrast to the redolent Eau de dead of the morgue.

Scully looked up from the table, surprised and pleased to see him.

She pulled up the protective eyewear she was wearing, her eyes bright above the surgical mask. Mulder couldn’t help but grin at her, even over a body. Behind the cage of his ribs, he felt his heart soften at the sight of her.

“Hey,” she said, leaning gloved hands against the edge of the autopsy tabletop. “How’d it go?”

“Not great,” he said, coming to a stop a few feet away from the body. “They had enough vacancy for separate rooms.”

Scully’s eyes darted to the door nervously.

Mulder regretted teasing her. He watched as she shifted gears, and he moved his gaze to the body in front of them. The autopsy tech had removed the young man’s clothes, but it was clear Scully hadn’t gotten very far into her examination. There was not yet any Y incision, and the blanket offering the deceased what little dignity could be provided in his situation was still pulled up to his shoulders.

“I thought you’d be half done by now.”

“I got a late start,” she said, shrugging. She pulled the mask below her mouth and leveled a look at him. “I take it you’re still married to this fairy idea?”

“Personnel file lists me as Single, Scully, you know that.”

“Cute,” she said humorlessly.

“My mother always said so.”

She gave him a look, her mouth a long, thin line. Yep. Shouldn’t have teased her with the hotel remark, he thought. She wasn’t big on being teased to begin with, and he’d probably just cratered his chances of an on-the-case dalliance.

“The fae, or people like them, exist across nearly all cultures,” he finally said, tipping his cards so she could see his hand. “That kind of prevalence usually indicates at least a foundation in authenticity.”

“A version of Santa Claus exists in many cultures, Mulder, and I think we can both agree he’s not real.”

Mulder felt them settle into their usual routine. Odd how it sort of turned him on. Teasing was one thing, he thought. Honesty was another.

“I got what I wanted this year,” he shrugged.

At Mulder’s declaration, Scully’s eyes flitted immediately to his and she felt a flush rise up and spread along her collarbones. For a moment she could feel his rapacious mouth clamped over her vulva, his long, thick fingers curled into her, three knuckles deep. She gripped the metal countertop in front of her and inhaled before speaking.

“There is a theory that fairy folklore evolved from folk memories of a prehistoric race,” she said. “Newcomers superseded a body of earlier human or humanoid peoples, and the memories of this defeated race developed into modern conceptions of fairies.”

A slow, impressed smile crept up the corners of Mulder’s mouth. “…you’ve been doing some research,” he said.

“I may have spent a little time on the computer, yes,” she said, trying not to appear too pleased. “I think I pissed off my diener.”

“He’ll get over it,” Mulder said with a dismissive wave. Her diener must have been the dour fellow that showed him into the suite. Mulder shuffled his feet and leaned back against a metal countertop with an eager look on his face. “Hit me with it.”

Scully licked her lips before continuing, feeling a surge of sensual energy.

“Proponents of the theory find support in the tradition of cold iron as a charm against fairies, viewed as a cultural memory of invaders with iron weapons displacing peoples who had just stone, bone, and wood at their disposal and were easily defeated. In folklore, flint arrowheads from the Stone Age were attributed to the fairies as ‘elfshot,’ while their green clothing and underground homes spoke to a need for camouflage and covert shelter from hostile humans, their magic a necessary skill for combating those with superior weaponry.”

“It’s a decent argument, but it’s not much fun,” Mulder said.

“I’m going to remember that you said I had a decent argument,” she said, feeling ever so slightly smug.

They were quiet for a moment and both turned their attention to the body before them.

“Have you done an initial examination yet?” he asked.

She shook her head, moving to stand next to the victim’s head. She reached up and turned on the microphone recording, rattling off the salient details.

“I’ll begin with a visual examination,” she dictated, beginning by looking around the victim’s head and neck for signs of what might have killed him.

Mulder slumped back against the shelf he was leaning against. He’d asked one of the deputies working the case to bring him a few more of their local missing persons cases just to compare notes, but now he thought maybe he should just head into the local station. Autopsies could take hours, and he wasn’t the biggest fan of the sounds and smells that came with the territory. He tapped the battered old file folder against his leg trying to decide what to do.

Scully, for her part, was now fully engrossed in the work that lay before her. Getting to the victim’s face, she peeled back his eyelids, looking for petechiae. She didn’t see any, but she did notice that the man’s eyes were two different colors, as though he’d been assembled by a doll maker whose attention had strayed. One was a startling blue, like her own, the other brown, as dark as the oily depths of a cup of diner coffee.

“Mulder, can you hand me the missing persons file?”

He pushed off the tabletop he was leaning against and passed it over without a word.

She flipped up a few pages. The purported victim, Daly Carmichael, had eye color listed as hazel, with no mention of heterochromia. She made a dull puzzled sound in the back of her throat.

“Everything all right?” Mulder asked, stepping forward.

“I don’t think this is Daly Carmichael,” she said.

Mulder approached the table. “What do you mean?”

“The eyes are the wrong color,” Scully said. “Look.”

She handed over the file and shined a small flashlight into the victim’s eyes.

“Two different colors,” Mulder said.

“Yes,” Scully said. “The file lists his eye color as hazel.”

Mulder looked down at the picture of Daly. The man before them was identical to the picture in the file. Mulder squinted at the photograph, but it was old, taken in the 70’s, washed out pigment on textured paper; eye color was impossible to make out.

“Maybe the information on file is wrong,” he said.

Scully sighed.

“We’re still waiting for dental confirmation?” Mulder said.

“Yes,” she confirmed. “The diener took dental X-Rays. They’ll go to a specialist.”

“Then maybe we shouldn’t make the call now,” Mulder said. He decided right then that he wasn’t going anywhere. This was too damn interesting.

“I find it hard to believe the information in the file is wrong, Mulder. It’s a notable discrepancy. Heterochromia only occurs in 1% of the population. Of the world.”

“What if I told you it was common in fairies?”

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” She reached up and turned off the mic.

“Not kidding,” he said. “There’s evidence going back roughly 500 years that Changelings have shown evidence of changing eye color.”

Changelings , she thought. Fucking changelings . Even her Aunt Olive didn’t believe in that one.

“Mulder, Changelings aren’t real!” she sputtered, letting frustration get the best of her. “They’re European folklore meant to make parents feel better about giving birth to children with chromosomal abnormalities and babies who succumbed to childhood illness!”

“By swapping out healthy infants for the imbecilic offspring of fairies or elves,” Mulder explained, feeling as though he were doing a good job keeping his own feelings in check.

Scully leveled a look at her partner and took a deep, calming breath. “Look at the file for Daly Carmichael,” she said, reclaiming a calm tone. “Tell me what religion he was.”

Mulder flipped open the file. “Catholic,” he said. “An altar boy at St. Francis.”

“The existence of changelings is believed to stem from the idea that infants are susceptible to demonic possession,” Scully said. “In the Medieval Chronicles, by Ralph of Coggeshall and in other sources, fairies are said expressly to prey upon unbaptized children.”

Her vigor and determination was something to behold.

“Scully,” he said, a little breathless, “are you trying to seduce me?”

She shook her head and turned back to look at the body, leaned in to get a better look at the victim’s face.

“Mulder, if I were trying to seduce you,” she said without looking up, “you’d know.” She reached back up and began recording again.

Something electric zipped through his veins. His mind spent the next thirty seconds buffering, interrupted only by a knock at the door.

He turned to see Deputy Avery hovering outside, looking affable but maybe a little uncomfortable. He gave Mulder a friendly smile.

Mulder gestured at him to come in, but the deputy only poked his head through the open doorway, holding out a couple of file folders. He never took his eyes off the body on the slab.

“I’ve got those other Missing Persons files you wanted to see Agent Mulder,” he said, then took a thick swallow and stepped into the room, holding the folders out as if he didn’t want to be any closer to the victim.

Mulder understood the impulse and put the poor deputy out of his misery, stepping forward to take them off his hands.

“Appreciate you making the trip down here, Deputy.”

“Don’t mention it,” the blond man said, blinking rapidly at the body on the table.

Scully finally looked up.

“He going to be okay?” she said, a little bemused.

“Deputy Avery?” Mulder said.

Avery darted his eyes to Scully and then straightened his posture.

“Yes, ma’am,” he said, and approached the examination table. Mulder wasn’t sure if he was trying to prove his mettle to himself or the pretty FBI agent, who, Mulder couldn’t help but notice, looked radiant, even with safety glasses and a mask.

A second later, a mop that had been standing up against the wall on the other side of the room—one Scully hadn’t recalled seeing before—fell to the floor, handle first. The sound made all three of them jump, and Avery shot out a hand and grabbed Scully’s arm.

“Jesus!” Avery said, his other hand to his heart.

The sound had startled Scully too, the hairs on the back of her neck standing up, an uncomfortable chill racing through her. Still, she gave a small chuckle and Avery looked down to where he was grabbing her and immediately let go. She turned back to the body.

Mulder stepped forward and put his hand on Avery’s shoulder.

“Appreciate you bringing the files by, deputy,” he said. “You can go.”

Avery swallowed hard and gave the body one long last look, darting his eyes briefly to Scully.

“Thank you, sir,” he said, scooting quickly out of the room, leaving the door swinging in his wake.

When Mulder turned back to Scully, she had an odd look on her face, peering closely at the victim, leaning in.

“Huh,” she said after a long minute of examination.

Mulder had to give himself a mental shake. “What is it?”

She turned to the tray of instruments that had been carefully set up next to the autopsy table and grabbed a pair of long tweezers. She worked the victim’s jaw open a little and pressed the instrument past his lips, pulling out, a moment later, a broad, dark green leaf, stiff and glossy.

Mulder stood up straighter.

“What is that? A leaf?”

“Appears to be,” Scully said, twisting the tweezers to get a better view. “Magnolia, maybe. I don’t know.”

Then, suddenly: “Aeon?” she called out.

Mulder was confused for a moment when the dark haired diener stuck his head through the bay door.

He grunted in acknowledgement. “Yeah?”

“Magnifying glass?” she asked, looking around.

“In the lab,” the man said, hooking a thumb toward the room opposite the autopsy suite. “Through here.”

Scully moved efficiently, stepping out of the autopsy bay and through the doors of the lab. In the corner was a small examination station. Mulder followed, watching her curiously. She pulled down the lighted magnifying glass to get a better look at the leaf.

“Mulder, look at this,” she said, holding the leaf under the light with the tweezers.

He looked through the lens. Etched into the back of the leaf was a seven-pointed star.

“Bag this, would you?” Scully said, pushing the leaf toward him, an energized look on her face.

She wasted no more time getting back to the body. She wouldn’t admit to Mulder, but she kind of liked it when things got weird.

She wasn’t quite prepared for how weird things were about to get, and how fast. When she stepped back into the autopsy bay, the body on the table was just as she’d left it, mouth wide open.

But it wasn’t the young man she’d left there. It was someone much, much older.

#the x-files #fanfic #my fic #msr #the unseelie court

35 notes · View notes

mulders-too-large-shirt · 21 days ago

Text

s6 episode 6 thoughts

a christmas episode!! and i shall be watching it exactly one month after christmas. this does make me a little sad; i wish i could travel back in time with what i know now and watch it then. and then maybe i’d feel all festive. but! what can you do? i shall embrace it even though there stands between me and christmas 11 months.

i haven’t watched an episode in a week-ish, so i’m excited to get back into the swing of things. let’s gooo!!

post-episode thoughts: oh my god, this episode was incredible. what if we (platonically) went to the house where two lovers famously kill other lovers each christmas? and then those ghosts tormented us with our deepest insecurities? and when they tried to trick us into killing each other, our love was simply too strong and we wouldn't fall for it? would that be festive? would you hold my hand when we walked across the rickety floorboards and found our own bodies beneath them?

love... it's alive, and well. or, in some cases, dead and well <3

PLEASE tell me what you thought of this episode. i want to go into depth on each line and do intense character analysis.

but back to past me:

well, why are they in a haunted house in maryland on christmas eve?? is kersh punishing them with a christmas assignment?

(the answer is no. it was all mulder. honestly, i should have expected that by now)

let us open with some spoooooky organ music. while mulder has christmas songs on in the car!

scully pulls in late!! she was in the checkout line, buying gifts!! “if i heard silent night one more time, i was going to start taking hostages” <- lmaoooo, i love her!!!!! she is so real for that. she truly has endured so much.

he brought her here for a stakeout?! “on christmas eve.” “it’s an important date” “no kidding” <- BAHAHA, i love when she’s a smartass. now, why are they doing this!!!

she has wrapping to do!!! he looks in her car and sees she has gifts. and he sadly says "oh...." but she acquiesces and gets in his car to hear this spooky story

SHE’S GOT HOLIDAY CHEER TO SPREAD, DAMNIT!!

(this line KILLED me. seems she does NOT play when it comes to the holiday season!)

she has FAMILY ROLL CALL at 6 am?!?! oh. god bless her poor soul.

he locks the car before she can get out and says he’ll make it fast, bahaha (loud scully sigh)

he starts talking about christmas 1917, and did he mention it was a time of “dark, dark despair?” well, it was.

oh, now she’s hooked on this story of star-crossed lovers. i heard the interest in that “go on”.

maurice was “brooding” and “heroic”, and he loved lyda, who had a “light that seemed to follow her wherever she went”; they ended their lives together so they would never be apart. and now, each christmas eve, they come back to haunt this spooky house in maryland.

AWWW, she compliments how he told the story, and says it’s a good one, but she does not believe it.

“you don’t believe in ghosts?!” “that surprises you?” <- STOP, SHE IS SO FUNNY, LMAOOOO

“well, yeah! i thought everybody believed in ghosts” ohhhh… okay. yeah, he would think that.

she has to go now, and he starts to enter the spooky house. she asks “don’t you have somewhere to be?” and to that i ask, oh, my poor, sweet scully, where would he go? to the vineyard? last time we saw his mom, he was tripping on K, accused her of having an affair, and then she slapped him and he left scully at her house. i hope they made up for that. but i haven’t seen or heard any indication either way.

she does not want to follow his ass in: “i’m not gonna do it. my new year’s resolution” <- bahaha, but where are her keys???

oooo, spooky thunder!! clocks chiming eerily!!! she just wants her keys, and he claims that he does not have them!! do we believe him?? hmm… jury’s still out on that one.

scully knows the weather said there is an 80% chance of rain!! maybe even a white christmas!! oh, but instead of letting her enjoy such a thing, the doors crash and lock them both inside!!!

(something about her wanting a white christmas made me emotional in a way i cannot quite articulate. she's kind of a romantic. and i love that for her <3)

(intro time) ooooo, sooo spOoOOoky!

oh, so just when i think we’ll never see it again, they DO hit us with the full intro!!!! chris carter, i am onto your tricks. but i much prefer the full intro. it feels so right.

back to this spooky mansion.

LET HER OUT!! he is not helping her escape and is instead telling her there is nothing to be afraid of because “ghosts are benevolent entities…. mostly”

hey man. that's not super reassuring.

she tries to check the time- and the clock strangely matches her watch, which is super weird for an abandoned old house- and then declares that she REALLY HAS TO GET HOME, when some sort of figure in white appears in a crack of thunder!!!

LMAOOOO, SHE IS JUST MONOLOGUING ABOUT HOW RIDICULOUS SOCIETY IS FOR EXPECTING GHOSTS TO BE REAL. i would have copied it down, but it just KEPT going and i kept laughing.

she admits to being afraid. and i love that. i love that her method for dealing with fear is to infodump. yeah. you tell ‘em, girl! tell them about the essence of humanity and the unconscious yearnings to live forever!!

but it’s an IRRATIONAL fear, she points out! i would be afraid, too! of spooky ghosts AND rabid bats, rotting wood, lead paint, and other dangers of creepy abandoned buildings!

she goes ahead to investigate this other room, and he says “i’ve got your back” bahaha

she asks if maybe someone lives here, because look!! the light is on in the library!! they have a LIBRARY?? woah, i don’t even know what this room is- it's got bookshelves on the walls, but almost looks like a ballroom on the floor- but it sure is cool!!

so the clock downstairs is somehow still keeping time which is super weird for an abandoned old building, and something is… smoking, it looks like? yeah, maybe it isn’t abandoned. hmm…

it’s the fireplace- it was just put out! “why would anyone want to live in a cursed house?” “mulder, it’s not enough for it to be haunted? it has to be cursed?” LMAOOO

oh, he just now CASUALLY drops that there have been 3 double murders (all of couples) in the last 80 years, and all of them were on christmas eve. GET TF OUT OF THERE!!! this seems like RELEVANT INFORMATION THAT SHOULD HAVE BEEN MENTIONED BEFORE YOU BROUGHT YOUR PARTNER INTO THIS DEATH TRAP!!

and then the lights go out!! and a door slams!!! and there is some weird sound and creaking floorboards…. they’re locked in!!

he’s trying to listen to the floor….

AWWW, HE SCARED HER!!!! he held the flashlight under his face and she yelled “that’s NOT funny!” <- you tell him!!

he wants to free someone from beneath the floor boards? how did he hear someone beneath the floor? but it’s just a dead body. so i guess he was half right, as he declares. looks super dead. as in dead for a very long time. oh, and there’s another!!

a man and a woman!! shot to death. and she has bright red hair. coincidence….?

well, must be not, because scully points out that the dead woman is WEARING HER OUTFIT.

(he laughs) “how embarrassing” <- LMAOOO, NOW YOU STFUUUU!!!!!

(i'm so used to his dumbass one liners, but this one really killed me for some reason)

and at first i didn’t notice, because the dead guy had a winter coat on and mulder just had a leather jacket, but he is wearing his outfit!! they put together that it is somehow them, and they RUN!!

at first i thought it was the original couple that died, but how would they get under the floor? so maybe it actually is mulder and scully in some cosmic way. don’t question it too hard.

they ran into the same room!!! well, maybe if you have one stylish room, you just make it again. and again.

nooo!! the rooms are looping!! and they get separated somehow!!

i wish the lighting was better; i want to stare at these paintings on the walls. they look so pretty. i wonder if they built this creepy house just for this episode and decorated it all spooky, or if there’s a stock studio haunted mansion set that gets used for lots of shows and movies. the frames are so pretty!

but back to the problem at hand. where is scully?? he’s yelling, but she’s not responding!!

he shoots th,e handle of the door and opens it to a brick wall???

A MAN APPEARS!! “who are you?” “that’s a question i should be asking you, being this is my house you’re standing in” <- GET HIS ASS!!

perhaps they shall finally face consequences for breaking and entering.

mysterious man flicks on the lights.

mysterious man seems to be unable to tell that the door leads straight to a brick wall, or perhaps mulder is somehow seeing that. mulder says “we”, tipping off the man that there is someone else here. but mulder goes straight to accusing him of being a ghost! a bold move…

mystery guy laughs and asks mulder if he’s a ghost hunter, saying a lot of strange folks come around. he tries to deflect with a “strange folks? like those under the floor-“ but when he turns around, there is nothing there apart from some furniture!!

you know shit is going down when the mystery old man says “why don’t you have a seat, son”

oh plot twist, mystery man reveals he is in the field of mental health and specializes in “disorders and manias related to pathological behavior as it pertains to the paranormal”. okay, yeah, now i definitely believe that this dude is a real ghost and he is just doing all this to personally torture mulder.

the type of ghost hunter this mystery man encounters, and therefore he also he believes mulder to be, is as follows: a “narcissistic, overzealous, self-righteous egomaniac”; “you kindly think of yourself as single-minded, but you’re prone to obsessive compulsiveness, workaholism, antisocialism- fertile fields for the descent into total wacko breakdown” BAHAHAHA

well. yes!

while i do support generally roasting mulder for his various qualities, i also need to know where scully is.

“you know why you think you’ve seen the things you do?” “because… i have seen them?” okay, sassy!

“‘cause you’re a lonely man” <- OH DAMN. that shut him up.

mystery man is really being mean now… OH SHIT, did mulder steal scully's car keys to get her to stick around with him??? i hope that isn't true, but knowing him, it probably is, and that behavior seems to match some of those adjectives that were tossed about moments before

“you know why you do it- listen endlessly to her droning rationalizations. ‘cause you’re afraid. afraid of the loneliness” <- oh man. now you’ve got him sad and pondering. he looks like he’s gonna cry, but he’s gonna try and be tough about it and smile. and say politely that he would like to find his partner.

(and i would like to contemplate these lines- do we think they are true? or do we think mystery man just wanted to hit him where it hurts? "droning rationalizations" is pretty harsh; seeing scully as nothing more than a beacon against being alone doesn't seem to capture their dynamic accurately, unless you interpret it in the most selfish light possible, which is probably what that mean inner voice of mulder's head does. hmm...)

and now the brick wall behind the door is gone and mystery man can just walk through…. but mulder cannot!!! it is just a real brick wall!! and he slams his beautiful nose!!!

so... did he imagine all of that???

scully is still yelling for him!!

NOOOOO, SCULLY GETS SO SCARED AND SCREAMS AND PULLS OUT HER GUN WHEN THIS LADY APPEARS LMAOOOOO she’s absolutely SHAKING “please, i’m a little on edge” <- yeah queen, we can tell 💜

ohhh, poor sweet scully, apologizing for scaring this lady; it’s just that they found bodies! and when she tries to show her where the bodies are… there is only furniture!!

she very rarely gets scared. must have been the combo of spookiness on a night she associated with being cozy and warm. and also seeing what she does not believe in. AND being separated from mulder. truly multiple things factoring into her fear here.

scully has her gun aimed at this mystery woman, and her hands are shaking as she asks “where’s my partner?” - and when she goes to open the door, there is also! just! a! brick! wall!

how can this keep happening?!

she circling the mystery woman, holding her gun, and i guess we’re getting some psychoanalysis on both ends of this brick wall:

“oh, you poor child. you must have an awful small life. spending your christmas eve with him, running around chasing things you don’t even believe in” oh, wow... that is so mean.........

LMAO, mystery woman is going on about the “subconscious desire to find fulfillment through another” and “intimacy through co-dependency” (which. okay. yeah, that one is accurate) and scully's dirty little secret that “your only joy in life is proving him wrong”.

but unlike mulder, who was taking this analysis sitting down, she seems scared, but still spits out “you don’t know me!" i LOVE that about her!! truly!!!

“and this isn’t your house” “you wouldn’t think so, the way i’m being treated” DAMN! these ghosts are gagging them 💀💀💀

“well, then, why is all of the furniture covered?” “we’re having the house painted” “well, then where’s your christmas tree?” “we’re jewish” LMAOOO

enter mystery man!!!! scully is telling him to NOT MOVE or she WILL SHOOT HIM!!!! she needs to know WHERE MULDER IS!! and these ghosts better MOVE OVER THERE!!!!!!!

“this violates our civil rights!! i have friends at the ACLU!!” LMAOOOO

well, she makes them put their hands up, and mystery woman has a hole blown completely through her belly. so. not great. and his hat is hiding the bullet hole through his head!!!

i mean, it was pretty obvious that these here ghosts were lyda and maurice, but i wanted to go along with the mystery bit until the big reveal. and now i shall use their government names.

SCULLY!!! SHE PASSED OUT!!!! OHHHHH, POOR BABY

the ghosts are lamenting that they used to get years to drive the visitors mad, but now they get just ONE NIGHT!!! i would be pissed, too!!!

BAHAHA, WHAT? “look, if we let our reputations slip, they’re going to take us off the tourist literature” <- BAHAHAHA OH MY GOD. wait, hold on, that’s so fucking funny.

she picked christmas as their one night a year because that is when people have no HOPE LMAOOOO and maurice looks down and says “these two do seem pretty miserable”

they smooch over poor scully’s fainted body as they declare they must show them how lonely christmas can be!!

mulder is climbing up the bookshelves, trying to get tf out of this trap room, when lyda arrives!! she calls him a “masher” (i don’t know what this means, so i hope it is not offensive) and he fires back with “frump”, only to be met by ANOTHER brick wall

(dictionary.com says that a masher is "a man who makes advances, especially to women he does not know, with a view to physical intimacy". so now we know! she accused him of hitting on her!)

“what happened to the star crossed lovers?” “oh, let me tell you, the romance is the first thing to go” <- that is a CRAZY thing to say about the guy you ended your life with 💀💀

he realizes that she is lyda, and the man is maurice!!

she summons books from the shelves!! and says she was young and beautiful once, just like your partner. she hands him a book telling their story. so i guess you can still age in the afterlife. who knew?

she’s sitting down and he’s standing in front of her, but the focus gets all fuzzy and weird when the camera turns to him. i can’t tell if this came from reshoots or what, but lyda is crisp and clear and he is not 💀

she assumes they came here “to be together for eternity”, which gets him giggling

“you knew this house was haunted, maybe you two should have discussed your real feelings before you came out here” OHH! SHE IS GOING THERE!!

taunt him. he just confessed his love a few episodes ago!!! do not think i forgot!!

and lyda shows him the hole in her CHEST??? i swear it was just in her belly with scully. “i don’t show my hole to just anyone” is INSANE, LMAOOO

“oh, you’re trying to tell me that scully’s going to shoot me. scully is NOT going to shoot me” AWWW, i love the certainty with which he said that

“maybe she shoots herself” “i wouldn’t let her” ohhhh…. he is so confident… but trickery is afoot, so who knows??

(also, i think lyda's line, “if you shoot first, for her, the rest is an act of faith” is a very fascinating one. one i want to unpack for years to come. but i do not have the capacity to do it now, so i am simply noting it)

OH MY GOD??? she’s trying to tell him to end their lives together???

(he sighs) “we’re not lovers”

“and this isn’t a pure science. but you’re both so attractive, and there will be a lot of time to work that out.” (she hands him the gun) “think of it as the last christmas you’ll spend alone”

she drops the gun and disappears

so, do lyda and maurice need people (couples, specifically) to either kill themselves or be killed in order to maintain their spooky reputation? and maybe their spooky power? maybe since they haven’t had a couple’s death in a long time, that is why they can only haunt people on christmas? like, they only have enough spectral energy from the blood sacrifices to show up one day a year? i’m trying to flesh this out here.

scully wakes up!!! she’s alone with her gun and flashlight, and she still can’t get the door open!! when maurice reappears!!

“i am quite capable of pulling this trigger”, she warns him, and we know that to be very true!!

OH NO!!! i see where this is going… maurice is going to try and convince her that mulder wants to kill her… so she will shoot him first, and then they can be together forever or something…

she says that it is all just a bad dream, and it’s in her head, but. well. here she is. interesting rationalization on her part. i would have expected her to pull the folie a deux card.

maurice hands her the car keys, saying that mulder is acting out "an unconscious yearning from the deep-seated terror of being alone” <- so would that make him a threat? does he genuinely want to convince her that mulder is going to kill her so they can always be together?

mulder’s pounding on the door and yelling for her. she takes the keys and tells maurice to open the door. she has her gun trained on him….

she doesn’t believe him that mulder wants to kill her!!!!

mulder opens the door… and asks where scully is… AND HE SHOOTS???????

WHAT!!!!

okay, but he’s not shooting HER!!! he's shooting nearby though, so please be careful. she’s scared!!!

why is he being crazy!!! look at that physical acting!! he's deranged!! he says all that is out there is loneliness!!! AND THEN HE SHOOTS HER FOR REAL????

she falls over as she bleeds into her white blouse…. he stands over her, saying “merry christmas, scully”

but!!! it was really lyda that took his shape to shoot her!!!!

so he didn’t REALLY do any of that???? but scully thinks he did!

he runs in, finds her bleeding out on the floor!!! “i didn’t believe that you’d do it”

OHHHH, but then it must not really be scully either, because as she is bleeding out, she shoots HIM!!!

but it was really just lyda and maurice playing around???

SO IS SCULLY HURT OR NOT????? JUST ANSWER THE QUESTION!!!

scully is crawling away dying as "have yourself a merry little christmas" plays, and mulder is also crawling with a gaping stomach wound- or are they really the ghosts taking their forms? i don’t KNOW!!

they’re crawling toward each other, their blood and gore all over the floor, and here i ask: what the fuck is happening? mulder’s yelling after her, and they both have their guns pointed at each other.

she asks if he’s afraid, and she says she is, and he admits he is too; “i didn’t shoot you, you shot me!” so their stories diverge...

they’re rolling around in their blood and dying. hey guys. merry christmas.

but then he gets up, and says she’s not been shot, and neither has he!!! it was all a trick!!!!

they run outside, and there is no blood on them at all!!! they get into their cars and drive away!!!!

so, were they in pain like they WERE shot? did they feel like they were dying? or did mulder realize that it was weird he was in no pain despite being shot and then got up and defeated their ghostly tricks?

lyda and maurice lament how they almost had those two, and how christmas is another joyless day of the year- but not for them. “no, we haven’t forgotten the meaning of christmas”; they hold hands and then fade away

STOP! they’re making me sad!!!!

mulder’s at home, watching a christmas carol alone. and it seems to be his usual couch he has back, so i wonder if he managed to restore all of his things after the morris redecorating incident!!! he looks so sad, though!!!

there’s a knocking at his door…. he is suspicious…. it’s scully!!! she couldn’t sleep!!! oh, she asks to come in- she must be so nervous!! she never asks to come in!!! he grabs her by the shoulder

he poses a great question: “aren’t you supposed to be opening christmas gifts with your family?” (she did mention it around a billion times)

“mulder… none of that really happened out there tonight. that was all in our heads, right?” <- ohhh… what do you say to this… a proposed collective hallucination??

he waits a second. “it-it must have been”

(this, too, is FASCINATING. he never agrees with her rationalizations! why does he do it now? does he want her to have some peace for the holidays? i suppose a collective hallucination is less concerning than upending your entire belief system, but not by much!)

they’re both sleep deprived and mumbling about the ghosts poking at their biggest insecurities:

“not that, uh, my only joy in life is proving you wrong”

“when have you proved me wrong?”

“well, why else would you want me out there with you?”

“you didn’t want to be there? oh, that’s um, that’s self-righteous and… narcissistic of me to say, isn’t it?”

“no… maybe i did want to be out there with you”

AWWW, they have no idea wtf is going on, but look at the way he is LOOKING at her as she nearly falls asleep standing up, OH!!! i could cry!!!

they said they wouldn’t exchange gifts, but he has something for her!!! when did they say they wouldn’t do that?!! and he broke that promise anyway!!! look at his big stupid smile!!! look at her face when she sees it!!!!

and she has something for him too!!! and they run to the couch and open each other's gifts! but we don’t get to see what they are!!!

and as the camera pulls away, we see snow falling out of the window!!!

OHHH, MY HEART!!!!

man…

lyda and maurice might actually be the ideal relationship. because i want to haunt people romantically forever. that is so beautiful.

oh, how did we manage to get such excellent character analysis AND silly fluff in one episode??? i feel like i’m going crazy!!!

okay, my biggest question: did he really take her keys??? no one says it outright or not!! it’s implied, but not confirmed either way!! if he did take her keys, that is not a point in his favor. but it would speak to the character flaws maurice accused him of having, in a drastically oversimplified sense. did he steal her keys and make her come out there so he wouldn't be alone on christmas? how can someone be so selfless and selfish?

hold on, i need to watch them open the gifts again… he’s shaking it around, trying to figure out what it is!!! and she’s laughing as she tries to pop it open!!!

ohhh my GOD. i need to go take a nap…….

they’re not lonely!!! they have each other!!! and even the ghosts tease them about having feelings they aren't admitting!!!

scully was completely ready to just die on that floor, LMAO

oh, she was so scared!! but she still meant business! she was going to have those ghosts stand against the wall and lift their hands, even if that meant she was going to faint!!

(when faced with people with holes in their body, usually she would not faint, but alas. she is used to this on dead people and dead people alone)

there are definitely some thing in this episode i am still trying to work out logic-wise (was lyda shot in her stomach or her chest? did she change where she was shot to mess with each of them? was lyda pretending to be scully for like, the whole thing after they first met? so how much did they actually experience in their own bodies? and therefore, it was the ghosts that were shooting them, not scully and mulder shooting at each other- but they both ended up fake shot in the end, and then the ghosts hoped that if they have them real guns, they would finish the job- right? how can we analyze the different strategies the ghosts used on each of them to convince them to shoot the other- telling scully that mulder is a danger to her, and telling mulder that if he does this, he will never be alone? is that a foreplay thing for lyda and maurice?)

but overall, i got the gist of it and enjoyed it very much. i think there will be plenty to turn around in my head and analyze for many moons to come.

and i might sound like a rabid MSR truther, but i would very much like to think that they fell asleep on his stupid little couch after exchanging presents and felt each other breathe for a bit to make up for their exhausting evening before scully left to go deal with her family.

she needed to talk to him first before she did all of that family stuff… she was so bothered by it… and the way he just agreed with her that it was probably all in their heads… is he doing that to try and reassure her everything is okay, or is he agreeing because he doesn’t want to think there is any meaning to it???

GOD! i need to turn this one around in my brain for a bit.

the set was also super cool. i wanted to pause and look at stuff!!!

i am very pleased. i would have been likely even more so pleased had i watched this a month ago, but now i can go back and watch it every christmas as i desire! definitely a nice change of pace from the previous christmas episodes that shall not be spoken of in this post.

but it was a very good episode, even if i am trying to crack the specific character implications (which will continue at length in the tags). some of y'all have had 25 years to do a deep dive into every line, reflect on how the characters see themselves vs who they truly are, and so on, but given that i have had 1 day, i have a lot of catching up to do!

(i would be interested in reading an analysis on this episode, or many other episodes, but those analysis posts tend to always have spoilers in them for things that happen down the road. so i shan't)

oh, scared, shaking scully, starting out apologizing for spooking lyda, then waving her gun around until they did what she said so she could find her mulder…. lifting up maurice’s hat and then passing tf out… rambling all about human nature and irrational fears as she was spooked by the scary old house… refusing to believe mulder would hurt her, and then having to confront the vision of him doing so... UGH!!!!! i just cannot TAKE IT!!! i hope they had the merriest christmas ever after this!!

it looked like she got him a video tape?? maybe a book? but it looked more like a tape to me. and what did he get her in that tube!! a poster of some sort, maybe?? i can’t think of many things that come in tubes. maybe he got her a nice print for her apartment walls. she loves her prints.

tonight, i shall dream beautiful dreams of being a ghost with the one you love forever and making sure that you keep your scary reputation, lest the tourists stop visiting you.

#still turning things over in my mind regarding the character analysis provided by the ghosts who torture them #i mean you could see their takes as accurate if you were committed to interpreting their characters as negatively as possible #which makes sense if you consider the ghosts saying out loud what their deepest fears tell them they are #but still they don't make entire sense #like scully's only joy in life being proving him wrong just seems blatantly false even if it is a funny idea #lyda got her ass though with the whole intimacy through codependency thing. no lies were told there.#interesting that mulder seems incredibly aware that the things he does and the way he acts make him seem like a self-righteous egomaniac #and we know that scully also sees him as such thanks to the conversation on the rock #but it's like he cannot stop doing it because it's just the way he is. what does that say about a person?#much to consider. and consider it i shall.#juni's x files liveblog #6x06 #the x files #txf

26 notes · View notes

obsessivestar · 9 days ago

Text

'What If It's All A RomCom?' - a Ted Nivison x Reader

// General Warnings: 18+ fic (MINORS dni), Reader implied to be afab!, under 5'5. She/They pronouns used.

// Chapter Warnings: More angst, a lot of yelling n REAL exposition about the wedding

Word Count: 5.4k

☆▪︎▪︎▪︎Taglist!▪︎▪︎▪︎☆

@k-k0129 , @callsign-scully , @limecorpse & @schlattandcompany

☆Love You To Death!☆

Chapter 20: I Remember That.

I wake up that morning feeling...uneasy. I feel nauseous, like I've only woken up because my body is signaling to me that I'm gonna be sick. I can feel a loose arm draped around my side behind me, I must've woke up before our alarm. I didn't sleep well. I kept tossing and turning, I kept waking up. Ted would whisper sweet nothings to me, he'd hold me close, kiss my cheek and my ear. He doesn't know he's the reason I couldn't relax. I...didn't even want to be in here last night. Not after what I heard. Not after what I know.

He lied to me last night. Lied to my face. Right to my fucking face. It was so casual, too. It was easy for him. A little white lie for him, maybe...but to me?...Man. Fuck. How long has he been able to do that?

Without moving too much, I reach out for my phone to check the date. It's Friday. Joe said he needed to tell me by Monday, but honestly, I...I don't know if I can wait. I don't think I can even trust that Ted will tell me the full truth. I know it now. I know that look in his eyes when he's lying. It's burned into my memory. He lied to me when we were high, too. I can see that now. Got me high just to lie to me. How did I not see it the first time? I could feel it. I could fucking feel that something was different, I...

I feel Ted shift a bit behind me, pressing his body more against mine, burying his face into my back. His breathing is still steady and quiet. He's still asleep. I...I don't think I should confront him first, not when I can't figure out exactly what he lied about. Did he lie about his girlfriend leaving him? Did he lie about how or why he left? Did he say something to someone? Do something? What is he so ashamed of that he had to lie about it? And why wouldn't Joe just tell me the first time? What is this big secret? What kinda shit could one guy pull at a fucking wedding? What makes not one, but two people want to hide it from me?

As I hear Ted's alarm begin to go off, I silently decide that I'll be going to Joe first. I don't think I can trust Ted to give me the entire truth. He's been too keen on hiding it from me, even if he wants to be with me. At least this way, if he does try to tell me on Monday, I can call out any inconsistencies. No, I can call out any more lies.

I set my phone down to pretend that I was also waking up, stretching my limbs out as Ted reaches back to hit snooze on his phone with a grunt. We both have quite an early morning, so there isn't a lot of time to speak or cuddle, outside of a quick 'Good morning' from Ted.

I leave the room to head into my own, letting out a small sigh of relief. That's not a good feeling, feeling relieved to be away from Ted. It used to be the other way around. I used to feel nauseous if I wasn't with him, I used to feel colder, used to imagine myself in his arms, imagine his lips on mine. Now, I can't think about any of that without frowning. None of it feels genuine anymore. I shake my head and let out a deep breath. I can't be getting all up in my feelings right now. I still have a job to do. I have to try and finish this. Not for Ted or Joe, but for Tanner. He has no idea what's going on, I don't want to let him down. Production has been nothing but smooth. I'm not about to ruin that because of some...bullshit. I don't think I could forgive myself if I let him down.

I push all of my uneasy thoughts and feelings down as I get dressed, making sure to wear something easy to move in. The weekend will be spent officially rehearsing the ballroom dance sequence. We've done some basic practicing, got the wardrobe and such, but now the camera's will be involved to figure out which angles work the best with the right lighting. This is the one scene that Tanner's REALLY fixed on looking perfect. We've got the entire weekend to figure out what works before we get into costume and everything. I'll...have to be hand in hand with Ted for it all, but that's fine. I'm doing this for Tanner. I'm doing this for Tanner.

I step out after getting dressed, moving past Ted's room to head downstairs for breakfast. This is the first morning in a while where Ted and I haven't come downstairs together. I get a few looks from the team, but I don't entertain them. I don't really care what the fuckin' team thinks. Nosey fucks.

I meet up with Tanner and Joe in the kitchen, getting one of the bagels to toast as they greet me. Tanner asks where Ted is. I just shrug and make a passing comment about how he'd slept in. Tanner buys it, but I can see that Joe is giving me a look. He'll be connecting the dots quickly, I already know it. I heard you, Joe. I heard both of you.

The morning goes by in a blur. My brain feels like it's on autopilot for most of the day, honestly. We get into position with some members of the wardrobe team who would be acting as background extras and go through the choreography step by step. If Ted makes a comment, I force a laugh but I'm mostly stoic for practice. We're supposed to be focusing, so I can kinda use that as an excuse to be more silent. The choreography isn't that complicated anyways, it's just a lot of spinning and stepping on beat. Ted has more trouble grasping it than I do, so oftentimes I'm just guiding him while he figures it out. A couple days ago, I probably would've thought this was cute. Now, I just wanna get it over with.

Thankfully we get to have a lunch break later in the afternoon. Some members of the crew end up going out to nab something to eat. I expected Ted to try and ask me to go out to dinner with him, but Dan had stepped in first, asking him to go out with him and Tanner to some new sub place. Convenient. Ted asks if I want to join, but since Joe isn't going, I politely decline, claiming I didn't like sandwiches or something. Ted reluctantly buys it, giving me a warm smile and a kiss on my forehead before he sets off.

"Be back soon, princess.."

I hate it, but...that makes me smile. For a brief moment, that warm, funny feeling spreads along my chest and I smile as he heads out the front door, giving me one final wave before shutting it. I can still see his affectionate little smile, those cozy hazel eyes....

And then the feeling fades about as fast as it overcame me. I can't let my feelings cloud my judgement. Not this time. He lied to you. He lied to me. Now, I just gotta find out exactly what he was hiding.

I head over to the living room where Joe is scrolling on his phone, brushing some of his hair out of his face with his other hand. He seems to be in the same funk that I'm in. I stand in front of the couch, anxiously picking at my nails a bit. I'm unsure of how to even...start this. I'm about to face the biggest mystery of my relationship with Ted...without Ted. I don't feel good, that uneasiness returns, but I have to push past it. I need to know what happened.

"Joe?" I clear my throat before speaking, keeping my fidgeting hands in front of me. He looks up from his phone, giving me big, curious eyes.

"Mm? Wassup?" He pipes up, pursing his lips out slightly. I'm nervous, but I know I can trust Joe to tell me the truth. He may have lied to me first, but I just know he won't make that mistake again.

"Can I...talk to you upstairs?" I point one of my thumbs back to the stairs, trying not to appear too nervous. "It's important.."

I see Joe's expression shift. Now he looks worried, but in an almost fraternal way. He's not worried about what I want, he's worried about how I'm feeling. He's a good friend.

"Yeah! Yeah, absolutely." He gives me a reassuring smile, standing up off of the couch to walk with me upstairs. We quietly step into his room and I close his door, taking in another deep breath. I feel like I can't breathe right, and christ, I'm still nauseous...

"...I, uh.." I speak up ever so slightly just to make sure I'm not going to throw up before I can ask this, placing one of my hands over my stomach. Joe looks even more worried now, his eyebrows furrowing at me.

"Yeah?" Joe speaks up in a concerned tone, placing his own hand over his own stomach as well. "Did I do something?"

"No! No--" I take a step forward with my hands out in front of me, trying to reassure him. I don't want him to think he did anything wrong. Yeah, he lied first, but he's not the one I'm mad at. "It's not--I'm not upset with you, I promise.."

"Okay.." Joe let's out a small sigh of relief, resting both of his hands in his lap. "So...what's wrong? Are you feeling okay?"

When he asks me that, the anxiety in my stomach only grows. My hands suddenly feel cold, and they're shaking. I go from feeling nauseous to feeling like I hadn't eaten anything in days. I open my mouth to answer, but only a shaky stammer escapes me. It's like I'm being frozen from the inside, but I can't freeze up now. I need to face this. I need to fucking face this.

"I heard you last night."

Joe gets it immediately. His concerned expression fades into an almost...disappointed look. He's not disappointed with me, no....with himself. His eyes fall from mine, looking down at his lap for a moment before a quick sigh leaves him.

"Shit.." He curses quietly to himself, firmly sliding one of his hands up his arm to rub his bicep, turning his head away as he rubs over his shoulder to let out another heavier sigh. He's uncomfortable with confrontation. Honestly, so am I sometimes, but I want answers. "How much did you hear?"

"Pretty much all of it." I admit, making my voice a little lower to hide how shaky I've become. I'm ignoring any panicky signs my body is trying to send to my brain. It feels like my soul is about to jump out of me, but I ignore it. "That you wanted him to tell me what happened, that you gave him until Monday..."

"Fuck, (Y/N)...I'm sorry.." Joe frowns at me, leaning his head down to place it into his hands. I hear him let out a quiet groan as he runs his fingers through his hair, tugging at the back a little. "I...didn't want you to hear that.."

"You said I should.." I added with a small shrug, crossing my arms in front of my chest. "You said I should hear you two.."

"Okay, but I didn't mean it! I didn't--" Joe raises his head to look at me, letting out a nervous scoff. "I didn't want you to find out that way. I was just...mad at him. I was pissed."

"I know, Joe.." I speak softly to try and calm him down, moving over to sit next to him at the edge of his bed. "I didn't bring you up here to get mad at you.."

I let Joe take his time to collect himself a bit, watching as he ruffled his mullet up with a stressful huff before turning to look at me. "...Then why are we up here?.." He asked, placing his hands back in his lap.

"Because I...I want to know what happened..." I admit with a long pause, glancing at the ground a bit before meeting Joe's nervous gaze with my own. "And...I don't think I can trust Ted to tell me the truth..."

It hurts to admit it aloud. The second I say it, I feel my eyes get a little teary, but no. I'm not going to let myself cry. Not about this. I'm just scared. I'm panicking, because I truly have no idea what he wanted to hide from me. I let out a shaky sigh and turn my head up to the ceiling, blinking my eyes to dry them.

"(Y/N), I...I don't know if I should..." Joe speaks up, fidgeting with his hands in his lap. "It's not my story to tell. I wanted Ted to be the one to explain himself..."

"Okay, well it's not a story Ted wants to tell, Joseph..." I admit with a slight scoff, giving him a small shrug. "I don't think he's gonna tell me."

"I gave him until Monday to tell you." Joe replies, straightening his back a bit. "I know you're upset, but..."

"He's had many opportunities to tell me, Joseph."

"I know, I just--"

"and frankly, I don't trust him to tell me the full truth anymore..."

"I think he will, (Y/N). He--"

"He literally lied to my face last night, Joseph." I huff, smacking the back of my hand down in my lap. "I asked if he was okay, I basically gave him a chance to come clean, and he lied to me. I had to lay in his fuckin' bed next to his fuckin' body, KNOWING he's been lying to me.."

Joe falls silent and gives me a worried frown, glancing away briefly to shake his head with a heavy huff. He knows I'm not leaving until I find out the truth. Neither one of us are leaving.

"I'm just--I'm fucking paranoid, Joe." I continue, my shaky demeanor beginning to reveal itself in my voice. "I don't know what he did, I don't know why he's hiding what he did and it's freaking me out. Did he fuckin' punch someone out? Did he call you a slur or something?"

"Nothing like that.." Joe spoke up with another shake of his head. "He's not like that."

"Okay, but how the fuck am I supposed to know? I don't have anything to go off of, Joseph! I did--I don't--I've got fuckin'--I've got no idea! Nothing! No context, no idea, nothing! I just--I don't even know if I fucking care what it is anymore, I just want to know! I'm so--I'm sick of--"

"Okay! Okay--" Joe places both of his hands down on mine to calm my shaking, taking a deep breath to encourage me to relax. He takes a slow inhale through his nose while keeping his gaze on me, giving me a slow nod of his head as he exhales through his mouth. It feels a little patronizing, but I take a slow, deep breath anyways, following his lead until I stop feeling so shaky.

"I'll tell you..." Joe gives me a slow nod, speaking in a softer, lower tone. "But you have to promise me you're gonna wait until Monday before you say anything, alright?.."

"I--ugh.." I let out a soft scoff, running my fingers along my scalp stressfully. "Yeah, fine.."

"I'm serious." Joe insists, making his tone a little more firm. "I know you're frustrated with him, you'll probably be even more frustrated after I tell you, but I think you should give him a chance to come clean; give him this one last chance. At least then I won't look like a fuckin' dick for telling you after I've warned him.."

That last sentence gets a slight chuckle out of me and I shake my head, turning away to think about it. I can...probably do that. If it's not as bad as him hitting someone or saying a slur or something, I can wait until Monday. Maybe I'll feel a little better just...knowing what they wanted to hide. Maybe it's something stupid.

"...Alright." I turn to look at Joe again, giving him a little nod. "I promise, but if he doesn't tell me by Monday, I'm not holding back."

"That's fine, I could barely hold back myself." Joe admitted with a little shrug, turning his body a bit more to face me. "Now...I know he told you a little bit about the wedding, but what exactly did he tell you?"

I think back to what I already know. It's a little hard to remember details at first. I mean, he did get me high before telling me.

...No, I don't know if it's fair to keep saying that, actually. I didn't exactly fight him on it. I could've easily given a firm no and Ted would've backed off. We're both adults, I chose to take the blunt. It was...fun. That's on me.

"He...told me he came to the wedding with his girlfriend, and he made a comment about what their wedding might look like in the future.." I begin to explain, narrowing my eyes a little, like I had to focus on every detail. "...and that caused and argument and she left him..."

"That's why she left?.." Joe's eyes widen a little. He sounds...surprised. "Oh."

"What do you mean 'oh'?" I furrow my brows at Joe, giving him a confused look.

"I didn't know that." Joe admitted in a 'matter of fact' tone. "That's not what he told me."

"What do you mean you didn't know that?"

"That's not what he told me!"

"He didn't say they had broken up?"

"No!"

"What the fuck did you think when she left??"

"He said she had an emergency, then he said after, like, a week later that they had broken up!"

"Ah great, so he's just fuckin' lying to everyone.."

"Okay well it wasn't really my business, (Y/N). He was probably embarrassed."

"He really didn't tell you that?"

"No! He honestly didn't! I'm just learning this now, from you!"

That's...surprising. Why would he tell me that, but not Joe? Not anyone else? Is he just a habitual liar? Is that who I've been sleeping with the last 2 weeks? Christ. I really know how to pick them.

"Okay, so..." Joe pauses after a moment, an awkward chuckle escaping him. "What did he say happened after?"

"He said...he drank a lot of wine, watched the ceremony, saw me up on the stage as your maid of honor and left." I explain, giving a small shrug. "And that was it."

"He said he stayed for the ceremony?" Joe asked, interjecting rather quickly. "That's what he said?"

"After drinking a lot of wine, yes." I nod my head, keeping my eyes on Joe. I see an immediate shift in his expression. He looks disappointed again and maybe a little annoyed.

"That's not what happened." Joe says it plainly, shaking his head before adjusting himself a bit on the bed, finaly taking his hands off of mine to scratch his head. "Not what fuckin' happened at all.."

"Okay, so what did happen?" I ask again, clasping my hands together. Here it goes. No turning back now.

"Ted...is an entirely different man when he's too drunk.." Joe began to explain, gesturing his hands out to really emphasize that point. "It's actually fucking weird how he gets when he's drunk. It's gotten to a point where he avoids drinking heavily unless he's at a house party now, he's talked to me about it before.."

It's hard to imagine Ted with a drinking problem, but I'm starting to get an idea of why he'd want to hide this...

"So...He did drink a lot of wine, but...he didn't stay in for the ceremony. I kicked him out before then." Joe admits, clasping his own hands together.

"Why?" I ask again, narrowing my eyes at Joe. I'm getting sick of asking this. "Why did you need to kick him out?"

"He...God, honestly, now that you've told me about his ex..." Joe raises his gaze to the ceiling with a small smile, as if he's figured out the world's greatest secrets. "It makes sense. It fuckin' makes sense. Okay! Um...so he got REALLY drunk, and...he started to hit on every single woman that was at the wedding. Every single one of them."

Joe looks at me as he explains what went down, curling his lips inward a bit as we make eye contact. "And he was sayin' some...wild shit. He was making a lot of people uncomfortable. I almost didn't believe it was him when I was told by Tanner that he was acting that way."

"What wild shit? What was he saying?" A slight scoff leaves me, half of me honestly doesn't believe it. It just sounds ridiculous.

"I don't even know, I don't even know that part." Joe admits with a nervous chuckle. "He was just being...kinda inappropriate. I mean, he knew almost all of the girls there except you, but we were getting hella complaints. I didn't want to kick him out, I was just gonna ask him to tone it down, but then..."

Joe pauses as he looks at me, giving me this apologetic smile. Why is he looking at me like that? And...why is this starting to sound...familiar?

"...He tried to approach you." Joe gestures to me, raising his brows at me. "With two glasses of wine in his hand...while you were up on the stage, and he spills it everywhere, and I mean fucking everywhere, all on the front row. I don't even know how that much wine could get on that many chairs, but some got on my husband's mom. It was bad..."

Holy fuck.

Holy fuck, I REMEMBER that.

"That was HIM?" I stand up off the bed in complete and utter shock. Jesus fucking christ, I can't even remember what he looked like at that event, but I remember that moment clear as day. Some stupid drunk fuck got wine all over the front row, but that was HIM?

"Yeah! Yeah, that was Ted.." Joe gives me a nod, ruffling up his mullet slightly. "You remember the guy I had to walk out? That was him."

I REMEMBER THAT. That happened basically right in front of me! I remember watching them leave, but it's like...everything about Ted being there was a blur. That was Ted? THAT was TED? How?

"That...that doesn't make any fucking sense." I admit with a nervous chuckle, sitting back down next to Joe. "I remember that."

"Yeah." Joe nods again, giving me a knowing frown.

"No, I remember that, Joseph.."

"I know."

"I don't remember that being HIM."

"It was him. A younger, clean shaven him."

"Why the fuck don't I remember it being him?"

"Because I wouldn't let him anywhere near you." Joe admitted with a shake of his head. "Like I said, I didn't want to kick him out. He sobers up quickly, usually, and he was already going through a lot, not just the girlfriend shit, but...he was being weird about you, I don't know. Kept saying you were the one and shit.."

I feel my cheeks warm up a little at that, but it still sounds a little ridiculous. I scoff, letting out a slight laugh. "What do you mean? He was flirting with every girl there, wasn't he? What made me different?"

"No fuckin' clue, but he was a lot more aggressive about you. Kept saying 'No, she's the one. She's gonna be the one. Look at her, she's the one. Watch. Watch' and then he tried to force his way past me, so I had to kick him out. It was too much."

I remembered Joe and most his husband's family rushing the poor guy out, but I didn't know he had been trying to get to me. Is...that why he remembered me? Is that why he's been so...fixated on me? Am I the one that got away? The one girl he couldn't hit up? Was I just a lot prize he finally got his hands on?...

"And...that's pretty much it." Joe admitted with a single clap, resting his hands in his lap. "He got too drunk, hit on everyone, and then when he tried to get to you I had to kick him out. He reached out the next day and apologized and we all just kinda moved on.."

"Except you lied to me about it." I bring up, giving him an annoyed look. "So, doesn't seem like you moved on.."

"When did I lie?" Joe asked, furrowing his brows. "I genuinely don't remember lying. I told you to ask him."

"When Ted and I got back with Dunkin' Donuts on the first day, you said he never asked about me at the wedding." I explained, pointing at Joe. "You even said he left after the ceremony. He wasn't even there for the ceremony."

"....Alright, you're right. I'm sorry.." Joe nods, closing his eyes for a moment. "But c'mon, I was over it. So was Tanner. I didn't expect you two were ever gonna cross paths again."

"We were gonna be working together on the same fucking set, Joseph." I smack the back of my hand on my palm. "You knew that beforehand."

"Okay, but not as romantic co-stars! He was supposed to stay behind the camera, I didn't expect you two to ever interact! You didn't even recognize him!"

"It was 2 years ago! Of course I wouldn't recognize him, what was there to recognize? He's not even in your wedding photos!"

Joe knows I've made a good point and he looks annoyed by it. I didn't intend to get mad at him when we came up here, but he's starting to make excuses and it's pissing me off. He looks up at the ceiling and turns his head away with a huff.

"You were all worried about Ted makin' moves on me, but you wouldn't even tell me why." I continue, keeping my hands together. "It's like you banked on me not remembering him, and I can't figure out why."

"I thought he was going to tell you a lot sooner.." Joe admits, lightly smacking one of his hands down on his lap. "I didn't expect you two to sleep together before he told you."

"Why didn't you just tell me?" I ask, sounding more annoyed. "You knew! You could've let me know! Why count on him? He's been lying to me since the beginning, Joseph."

"Not since the beginning."

"What?"

"Not since the beginning."

"How can you be so sure?"

"Because he didn't know he did all that until last week."

"You didn't fuckin' tell him he flirted with all of those women when he apologized?"

"I did! I'm not--(Y/N)--" Joe rubs his forehead with a frustrated groan, shaking his head. "You don't understand.."

That makes me a little mad. I stand up off of the bed again, crossing my arms. "What don't I understand?" I ask, sort of glaring down at Joe. "What am I not understanding?"

"(Y/N), he....he likes you." Joe admits in a softer tone, raising his head to look at me again. "He really likes you."

"Yeah, he likes me enough to sleep with me, but not enough to actually tell me the truth..." I mutter somewhat, rolling my eyes. "What's that got to do with this?"

"He told you he remembered you, right?" Joe asks, shrugging his arms out at me. "Right?"

"Yeah. I'm sure he remembered trying to rush me and every other girl there like we're some extinct animal."

"Okay, he doesn't fucking remember it like that." Joe clarifies, waving his hand slightly in a disapproving gesture. "He genuinely doesn't remember any of that."

"What the fuck do you MEAN?"

"He only remembers YOU!"

Joe stands up off the bed as he points to me, holding both of his hands out to me to really emphasize his point. Ted only remembers me...

"You said he apologized." I bring up, furrowing my brows at Joe.

"Yeah, he did, for getting drunk. I thought he knew what he did, but he fuckin' didn't, I guess. I just learned this last week. So did he." Joe admits smacking his hands together again. "The only things he can remember from the wedding is, apparently, getting broken up with and then seeing you. I fuckin' swear to you, he hasn't been lying to you from the beginning."

"Okay, so why are you suddenly defending him? Did you want it to turn out this way?" I nearly cut Joe off to ask, taking a step towards him. "You've sat on this vital piece of information since the beginning of production. You were all up in a fuss about him making moves on me, you've known for a full WEEK that he's been hiding this from me, but now it's all okay because he likes me?"

"I've been trying to convince him to tell you for that full week, (Y/N)! I haven't just been sitting on my ass watching you two!" Joe cuts in, his own hands getting a bit shaky. We haven't fought like this in a long time. "You KNOW I would NEVER want to hide shit from you, (Y/N)! I love you! You're like my fucking sibling, but he REALLY wanted to make this shit work with you and I wanted to give him the chance! I'm not apologizing for that!"

I didn't mean for this exchange to become so...heated. Joe's right. I can't pin this on him. Should he had told me the first time I asked? Maybe, but...I can understand why he didn't. He didn't want to but in, and he trusted Ted to be the one to tell me. He's known Ted longer than I have and he seems just as disappointed in him as I am, maybe even more. At the end of the day, Ted was the one who kept lying to me, kept hiding it from me. That's who I need to face. Not Joseph. Not my brother.

"...You're right..." I speak up with a shameful frown, my voice cracking ever so slightly. "I'm sorry..."

Joe gives me a sad smile, moving in to pull me into a warm, comforting hug. "I know. It's alright..." He speaks quietly, rubbing my back to soothe me. "I'm sorry too. I'm sorry.."

"No, don't apologize, please.." I shake my head in the hug, once again having to hold back tears. God, I hate this feeling. This whole thing...what a stupid fucking thing to keep from me. I'm not even anxious about it anymore. I'm angry. I'm angry that Ted lied to me. I'm angry that what's seemingly a white lie turned into this. Maybe it wasn't for the entire trip, but he's been lying to me for a week now. Ever since we slept together, he's been lying to me. That's not okay.

"Are you okay?.." Joe asks after a small moment of silence, pulling back from the hug to look at my face. I blink a few times to fight back any tears, wiping under my eyes just in case with a small sniffle.

"Yeah." I nod a little, blinking up at the ceiling to dry my tears. Thank God the makeup team didn't work on me today. Christ. "Yeah, I will be.."

Just then, I hear the sound of a large door opening and closing downstairs along with Dan, Tanner and Ted's voices laughing and playfully yelling at each other over some joke that was probably told in the truck. They're back. Guess it's time to get back to work.

"You gonna be okay?" Joe asks again, raising both of his brows at me with a concerned expression. I know what he's really asking. He's still making sure I'm gonna wait until Monday to bring this up. As angry as I am, yeah. I can wait. I can wait until Monday. Ted has 3 days to tell me the truth. I can play the part until then. I'm already an actress.

"Yeah." I nod, looking at Joe with an almost stoic expression. "Yeah. I'm fine."

I....might be lying.

__________________________________

Chapter 1 || Chapter 2 || Chapter 3 || Chapter 4 || Chapter 5 || Chapter 6 (smut) || Chapter 7 || Chapter 8 || Chapter 9 || Chapter 10 (smut) || Chapter 11 || Chapter 12 || Chapter 13 || Chapter 14 (smut) || Chapter 15 || Chapter 16 || Chapter 17 || Chapter 18 (smut) || Chapter 19 || Chapter 20 (here) || Chapter 21 || Chapter 22 || Chapter 23 || Chapter 24 || Chapter 25 (final) ||

#ted nivison #ted nivison x reader #ted nivison x you #ted nivison fanfic #ted nivison fanfiction #allaromcom

29 notes · View notes

poangsecretsanta · 3 months ago

Text

Mulder becomes a Scully

Dana was unhappy, this much Bill knew from the moment she’d arrived. It was her first Christmas after she had recovered from her cancer and she was about to be an aunt, this should have been a jubilant holiday.

Bill was on edge about becoming a father, with Tara’s delivery overdue his nerves were frayed and he wished his father’s stoic presence was there. Bill tried his best to rally his little sister, begged her to be present with them, but in every encounter she seemed a million miles away.

Bill knew it was more than this mysterious case and that little girl she seemed to latch onto. He wanted to blame her Partner, that he was dragging her away from them; but the hardest fact to face was that this was all of Dana’s own doing, her choice to keep a moat between her and them. Each time he reached out to her, he felt like he was rejected; and it frustrated him to see her so withdrawn.

Bill did not understand how or why Dana was trying to adopt this previously unknown child. The thought that it could be her biological daughter made him dizzy, but a big part of him wanted this for her. This could be the blessing she needed to get her life on track and away from her FBI work.

Bill was honored to support his sister in the adoption hearing, speaking honestly of her capacity to care for others and her ability to provide a stable home. As a Naval Officer and a blood relative, he hoped his testimony would hold more weight.

On leaving the judge’s quarters, Bill was shocked to see Fox Mulder there, ready to be a character witness. Dana’s boss had provided a glowing reference for her via phone already and Bill could only wonder at the fact the man flew across the country to be there for her.

With a scold and a sigh, Bill resented the man’s presence, ready to send him packing the moment he was done helping Dana. With one fierce look Maggie Scully informed Bill he would be doing no such thing and begrudgingly he had no recourse but to accept his fate.

Perhaps Bill would have remained sullen and cold, but that it was like a switch had been flicked on and suddenly Dana had arrived with them. So Bill endured his presence if only to get to spend time with his sister and for that he was rewarded. At dinner Dana was animated, laughing as Tara told her of her pregnancy war stories. Bill wanted to attribute her change in mood to her adoption proceedings looking more positive, but his wife knew better.

“It’s him Bill. I don’t know what’s going on between them, but you need to work out how to make peace with him or else you’re going to lose her.”

Bill wanted to hold a grudge, but it was clear Fox Mulder would do anything for his sister so there was no question as to where he would be staying while he was in town.

That night Dana was surprised to find Tara struggling to reach the clean towels in the linen closet as she went upstairs to put her paperwork away. Dana intercepted it for her with a questioning look.

“It’s for Fox.”

Dana smiled as her brother walked over with some spare bedding and a pillow stacking it on to Scully’s arms.

“Here you go short stuff,” Bill said with a razz in his voice, knowing his sister was poking her tongue out from behind the pile of linen. Placing them all in her room, Scully stopped in to say ‘thank you’ to Bill and Tara for letting Mulder stay with them.

Bill didn’t mean to tear up as she hugged him but he felt connected to her in a way that had been missing for so long. Helping Tara to bed, the women laughed as Bill played nurse maid with Tara’s pillows, building a retaining wall to keep her partially upright.

Grabbing Dana’s hand, Tara assured Dana that Fox was welcomed to stay here anytime.

Bill nodded in silent confirmation, and Dana beamed at them both.

The days ahead were filled with melodrama; Dana’s child battled for her health in the same hospital Tara struggled with a complicated delivery. Finally Mathew was born and sweet Emily passed away, Uncle Bill seeing her one last time through the glass window as she slept in her coma.

Holding his son in his arms Bill felt the weight of what his sister had lost and he wondered how she would ever carry on.

The service for the little girl was brief. The family sat through Mass and once again, Bill watched Dana pull away from her family. A part of him wondered if losing a child you didn’t know about hurt as much as one you knew from inception, but his heart told him that the Scully family was wired to love their offspring no matter what. Whether he understood how or why the child came into being no longer mattered, Bill was there to mourn the loss of his young niece.

As Bill left Dana behind in the church he wished she’d reconsider driving back with them, he needed to know she was ok. It was the bouquet of flowers he saw Fox Mulder holding as he entered the church that calmed his mind. It was such an innocuous gesture amongst all the injustices that had taken place but it meant something.

While Bill may never consider the man a friend, he could see that he was a safe place for his sister. For all of Fox Mulder’s faults he was the one she had chosen, and that made him de facto family.

Dana insisted on taking a Red Eye back to D.C with Fox after the funeral. Stopping over at the house to pack their things, Fox waited on the porch for Scully to change clothes and finalize her luggage.

Bill made his way out onto the porch and noticed that Mulder tensed his body as he saw him approach. A part of him enjoyed the fact that the man anticipated an uncomfortable confrontation, but Bill was there on a mission of peace.

“Does she talk to you,” Bill asked, trying to keep his frustration at bay.

“Only when she wants too,” Mulder replied with a shake of his head.

Bill gave a knowing grunt and patted Mulder on the shoulder.

“You look after her,” Bill said with a serious warning tone.

“We look after each other,” Mulder replied with a cocky defiance that reminded Bill of why the man grated on him.

Before Bill could make his way into the house he heard Fox Mulder’s voice.

“Hey Bill, thanks for letting me stay, I appreciate it.”

Mulder stood up and offered Bill his hand, it was a peace offering.

“Any time,” Bill said with a firm shake and a nod.

Maggie Scully and Dana arrived in time to witness the exchange but knew better than to mention anything. Instead, Dana hugged her brother longer than she had in years, telling him to send lots of pictures of her nephew. As Dana hugged her brother, Maggie gave Fox another hug goodbye and ordered him to come for dinner when they all got settled at home.

Maggie and Bill watched as the rental car drove away, silently they both understood that Fox Mulder was now part of their family.

@thursdayinspace

#poangpals #txf fanfic #msr fanfic #bill scully #fox mulder #dana Scully #christmas cheer #random acts of fic

27 notes · View notes

unremarkablehouse · 3 months ago

Text

Scully’s Hot Date

CH1 | Mature | S6 | WC 1639 | AO3

Summary: Mulder happens to run into Scully on her way to a blind date. Inspired by this photo of Gillian.

Tagging: @today-in-fic The FBI parking garage was desolate as Mulder slowly made his way to his car. Friday night before a public holiday, it seemed like everyone one had places they’d rather be. The squeak of tires and flash of light as a car pulled into a space was truly startling, more so the fact that he recognized that car within a fraction of a second from his periphery. It was her, Dana Scully, returning to work after 7pm on a Friday night. A large part of him hoped it was to see him, but as she parked her car near his, he knew logically it didn’t quite add up. Lounging on the trunk of his car, Mulder watched Scully get out of her car, her body stiffening momentarily before making her way towards his direction with a renewed confidence as she clocked the awe struck look on his face. Mulder didn’t mean to ogle but he had never seen her dressed quite like this before. Her hair pinned up displaying her neck, a dress that was soft and showed her curves, and her breasts. Good lord, her tits were out and Mulder’s brain had ceased to function. He wasn’t sure how long he had been staring at her, but Scully’s laugh and the click of her fingers brought him back to earth. She was now standing in front of him, an amused smirk on her face at his reaction.

“Hi, I wasn’t expecting anyone to be here tonight,” Scully said with an edge of awkwardness in her voice unconsciously licking her lips in that way that drove Mulder insane.

“You look very… non-FBI tonight,” Mulder replied, unsure of the exact right words to use to describe how incredible his Partner looked.

“Thanks, I think. I have a date,” Scully bristled as she started to make her way to the parking lot stair case.

Mulder caught up with her in a few easy strides.

“Hold up, who is the guy? He doesn’t work here right?”

There was nothing remotely casual about the tone of Mulder’s voice, the jealous quality was begrudgingly sweet so Scully took pity on him and stopped to talk as they entered the stairwell.

“It’s a blind date a friend set me up on, I haven’t met him before so I organized to meet in front of the Hoover building so we can get a drink nearby.”

“Do you need a chaperone,” Mulder asked, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, standing close to Scully, her back almost pressing against the concrete wall.

“I think I’ll be ok,” Scully said with a laugh, placing her hand on his chest to push him back, but instead slowly rubbing large circles across his pecks. Her heart raced when her palm made contact with one of his erect nipples, but she didn’t remove her hand.

“You look really beautiful tonight Dana,” Mulder said his eyes staring so intensely into hers it was like all the oxygen had been sucked out of the room.

With an anguished sigh, Mulder dropped his head down, awkwardly resting it on Scully’s shoulder like a child needing comfort. Instinctively, her hand found its way into his hair, rubbing over the nape of his neck and back again.

“What times your date,” he whispered, doing nothing to hide the melancholy from his voice.

“Not for another half hour, I’m early.”

“Hmm,” Mulder said with a sad acknowledgement, nuzzling his nose into her neck in a way that made Scully catch her breath. Instinctively, she found herself kissing his temple and inhaling his smell. The warmth of their bodies and their proximity to one another was intoxicating. Mulder pressed both hands onto her hips to anchor her in place as he gently kissed a spot under her ear and whispered “I wish it was me.”

Mulder pushed away from her, ready to go back to his empty apartment, while Scully went on a date with a man who wasn’t him. Feeling a tug on his arm, Mulder turned as Scully grabbed onto his hand.

“If you want it to be you, then ask me out Mulder,” her voice was breathy but challenging as she stared him down.

Mulder’s puppy dog eyes seemed to penetrate her soul, filled with angst and a vulnerability which Scully was helpless to resist.

“Dana Katherine Scully, will you go on a date with me?”

Scully made a show at umming and ahhing, while Mulder dramatically contorted his face in agony.

“Okay,” Scully finally replied with a large grin, eliciting a delighted laugh from them both as Mulder excitedly bent down to kiss her.

It was meant to be a quick celebratory peck in the heat of the moment, but Scully’s arms wrapped around Mulder’s neck and before they knew it he had lifted her up and pressed their bodies against the wall. Scully hungrily kissed Mulder, pulling his head closer to hers, unable to get enough. Mulder’s hands wondered ever so slightly up her thigh and back down to her perfect ass, unable to explore more territory as he held her up to his hip height.

Her legs wrapped around him, pulling Mulder closer and grinding her hips against him hard. And with that, the flood gates were open. All the years of restraint and denial crumbled as they finally admitted the physical need between them. Decency and self awareness had long left the building as Scully’s hand reached for Mulder’s rock hard cock. Stroking it over his pants she moaned and ached to feel him inside her. Mulder enthusiastically nuzzled and kissed at her breasts while Scully attempted to undo his fly. In a surreal out of body experience Scully realized she was about to fuck Mulder for the first time in an FBI stairwell, minutes before she was meant to be going on a date with another man. However, she could not bring herself to care about the impropriety of the situation, conversely it actually made her ridiculously aroused at how primal and insane the whole situation was. Any concern or hesitation she might have had on the subject vanished completely when Mulder found her left nipple and bit down on it in a way that lead to a gasp and a flood of arousal. Moving their heads back up to kiss once more, Mulder’s hand managed to free his cock and slide it against Scully’s wet cunt as he deftly moved her panties to the side.

Mulder stroked himself against Scully’s slit, bumping the head of his cock over her clit as she moaned in approval. Scully squeezed her thighs hard against Mulder’s waist, impatient for more of him. “Mulder, now,” she panted in desperation.

The relative size of his cock and the angle of their bodies, forced him to enter her at an excruciatingly slow rate. Scully felt the stretch as it struggled to accommodate his girth, and her mouth watered at the thought of riding him until she was spent and sore. With a grunt and a thrust Mulder was completely sheathed inside her and Scully felt her pussy flutter and tingle at just the feel of him inside her.

Without much leverage, Mulder rolled his hips in circles, adding a pulsating motion to fuck her without ever leaving Scully’s body. The movement felt delicious, and the feel of Mulder’s stubble against her neck as he moaned “Oh, God Scully” was enough to tip her over the edge. Scully’s back awkwardly arched against the wall, her moan and cries of ecstasy leaving no doubt as to what she was experiencing.

Mulder was in awe as he felt her convulse around his cock, moisture gathering between them, and the unmistakable quivers driving him wild.

Mulder wasn’t anywhere near ready to cum himself, but he felt a sense of satiation by proxy as he continued to rock into her body, gently bringing her back from the edge.

The loud trill of a cell phone brought them both back to reality and Mulder quickly removed himself from Scully and straightened up, their hearts pounding at prospect of getting caught. The ring continued and Scully realized it was coming from her purse, the neurons once again firing in her brain, battling adrenaline and her post orgasmic haze.

Answering the phone with a professional, “Dana Scully,” her voice did not betray any of the lewd activities that had just taken place, and Mulder marveled at her ability to compartmentalize so quickly.

“Hi Derek, I can’t really hear you I’m in the parking structure. I’ll see you outside in 10.”

As Scully hung up the phone and was greeted by Mulder’s heart sick face.

“You’re still going to go out with him?”

“Well I can’t cancel this late, it would be rude.”

Mulder gave a snort of derision as he straightened his pants and licking his lips to remove some of Scully’s lipstick that had made its way onto his lips. He was pouting, and while Scully would normally find it infuriating, he looked adorable all ruffled with feint traces of lipstick still on him.

“Mulder, would you like to join with us? We’re just getting drinks around the corner.”

“Really?” Mulder asked, excited as a kid on Christmas.

“Of course, let me just straighten up in the bathroom first and we can go.”

They quickly walked down the stairwell to the lobby exit, but Mulder pulled Scully back before she could open the door.

Looking up at him with a questioning stare, Mulder bashfully smiled at her.

“I need a hug before we face the outside world,” Mulder admitted with a vulnerability that melted Scully.

Without hesitation Scully tightly wrapped her arms around Mulder, her body melding perfectly into his.

With a quick kiss to her head Mulder broke the hug, “come on, let’s make ourselves look presentable, we have a date.”

#Inspired by the Poang pals general filth #Poang pals #msr #msr fic #fox mulder #the x files #dana scully #txf fic #xf fanfic #x files #txf

28 notes · View notes

atths--twice · 5 months ago

Text

Brighten Up

On a case, Mulder and Scully stop at a diner. When she turns down dessert, he takes matters into his own hands.

Todays story is for Becks, who asked for a revival story with "I saw your eyes light up."

Hope you all enjoy! 🎃

Georgia

July, 2017

“God, it’s hot,” Scully said, getting in the car as Mulder started the engine. She turned the air conditioning up and directed the vents toward her, slipping her blazer off and tossing it into the backseat.

“It is,” Mulder agreed, loosening his tie and then removing his own jacket, tossing it back to join hers. “I couldn’t live here.”

“It gets hot at home,” Scully said, glancing at him.

“Yeah, but not this muggy.”

“Mulder,” she said, giving him a look. “That’s a lie. How often have we complained about the humidity?”

“Hmm,” he said, putting on his sunglasses and looking over his shoulder. When two cars had passed, he pulled away from the curb and into traffic.

“Your apartment got awfully hot when the air conditioning went out,” she said.

“Shit. Yeah, it sure did. Trying to sleep in that heat was unbearable.”

“Hmm,” she hummed with a nod and he cut his eyes at her, watching her smile as she leaned closer to the vents.

His mind drifted to one particular hot night at his apartment when she had stayed over. Two fans had been blowing on them at full speed as they lay with no covers and minimal clothing, both sweating and moaning about the heat. They had eventually left, going to her apartment where they had turned on the air as cold as possible, until she had begun to shiver.

“Yeah,” he said, clearing his throat and looking ahead. “Uh… how about some food? What sounds good?”

“I’m fine with whatever. Although, hmm.. soup might be good.”

“Soup, Scully?” he asked, turning to look at her in astonishment. “Aren’t we both currently complaining about this insane heat?”

“But we’d be inside at the diner. In the cool air. Therefore, soup would be most welcome.”

“You’re an odd person,” he said, shaking his head as he looked back at the road, though still glancing at her.

“How dare you call me odd, you spooky man,” she said, leaning back and smiling at him, running her fingers through her hair, and he smiled back with a nod.

“That diner we passed earlier?”

“Sure,” she said, letting out a deep breath as she crossed her arms. “Soup and a sandwich is really starting to appeal to me.”

“I agree with the sandwich, but soup, in this heat, still seems crazy.”

“I’ll save you a few bites for when you change your mind,” she said, closing her eyes and smiling again.

“Pretty sure that won’t happen.”

“I know you. You will.”

He smiled, drumming his fingers against the steering wheel.

They pulled into the parking lot of the diner a couple of minutes later and got out of the car. She shook her head, pulling at her shirt to create some air as they walked into the diner, sighing happily where the cold air hit her skin.

“See? It’s cool enough in here for a bowl of soup. And ohhh look, they have pies,” she said, walking to the display case.

“Cold enough for you maybe,” he said, taking off his sunglasses and following behind her, looking at the pies in the case. “Mmm. Sweet potato.”

“And chocolate cream.”

He looked at her, seeing the happy look on her face. But then it disappeared with a slightly defeated sigh and a shake of her head.

“Come on. Let’s get a table,” she said, walking away from the display case.

Sitting down, they looked over the menu, deciding on something to split.

“But not the soup, as you’ve already stated,” she said, setting the menus on the edge of the table and glancing at him with a smirk.

“I have a spoon here with my silverware. If it gets used for soup… well,” he said, setting his utensils to the side with a shrug. She sniggered, shaking her head as the waitress walked up to take their order.

He did eat some of her soup, more than just a few bites, while she hummed a quiet “mmhmm” and looked at him knowingly. They split their sandwiches, each taking a half, as they discussed the case they were working on. When the waitress returned to clear their plates, she asked if they wanted dessert.

“No,” Scully said with an almost sad smile. “That’s okay.”

“No pie?” he asked as the waitress walked away, saying she would be back with the check.

“I can’t, we can’t, eat a whole pie.”

“I’m sure they sell slices,” he said.

“Nah, that’s okay.”

“Not even for chocolate cream pie?” he teased, nodding at the waitress when she set their bill onto the table.

“I’m good,” Scully replied, with the same nearly sad look on her face. “I’m going to use the bathroom. Meet you at the car.”

He nodded, rising with her and heading to the front as she went to the bathroom.

“Do you sell slices of pie?” he asked, handing over the bill and his credit card to the man at the register.

“Of course. Would you like one?” he asked with a smile.

“Two, please. Sweet potato and chocolate cream. Extra whipped cream on the side.”

“No problem. I’ll have it out for you in just a minute.”

The slices of pie in a takeout bag, safely secured in the trunk, Mulder closed it down just as Scully walked outside, her face contorting at the heat.

“Jesus,” she said, shaking her head. “I thought it would have cooled off a little when the sun went down.”

“Doesn’t seem likely,” he said, getting in and starting the car, the air conditioning turned up to the maximum level.

“I’m just thankful the motel’s system is working,” she said, putting her seatbelt on.

“Same. Although, you could always share my room. If it’s needed, of course.”

“Yeah,” she said, looking at him as she adjusted the vents again.

“Just putting it out there. Reminding you of your options.”

“Hmm,” she hummed and he smiled as he backed up and headed toward the motel.

When they arrived, they took their jackets and other items out of the backseat, the heat still stifling as bugs flew around the lights in the walkway to their rooms.

“If my room heats up, I’ll give you a call,” she said, unlocking her door.

“I’ll be waiting to hear from you,” he said, watching her step inside, smiling as she closed the door behind her.

He waited a beat and then hurried to get the bag of pies from the trunk. Going inside his room, he put them in the small refrigerator.

Undressing and leaving his sweaty clothes on the floor, he went into the bathroom to shower.

Clean and dressed in cooler clothes, he took the bag out of the refrigerator and grabbed his room key.

Knocking on Scully’s door, he waited, hoping she was done with her own shower. He heard the lock being turned and he smiled, holding the bag behind his back. Cool air hit him as the door opened and she stood before him.

“I’m not leaving this room,” she stated, her face free of makeup and her hair wet as it lay against the shirt she wore, one of his old ones, he was fairly certain. “I’m cool and comfortable. So, whatever you want, it can wait until tomorrow.”

“What if it’s for something sweet?”

“What do you mean?” she asked, frowning as she looked him up and down. He smiled as he pulled the bag from behind his back, showing it to her as she continued to frown. “What’s that?”

“If you let me in and out of this goddamn heat, I’ll show you,” he said.

She opened the door wider and he smiled as he walked into her room and to the table. Turning around, he watched her as she closed and locked the door.

“What’s in the bag, Mulder?”

“Come over and see,” he said. She walked over and he moved aside so she could look in the bag.

“Pie?” she asked, taking the containers out, looking at him with a smile.

“Mmhmm,” he said, taking the bag from her and getting out the plastic wrapped forks. “I saw your eyes light up when you saw the pie. And even though you denied it after our meal… well, I know you as you know me, and I know you wanted pie.”

“I did,” she said softly, looking back down at the pie.

“I know.”

She looked up at him, her eyes traveling across his face and landing on his lips.

If they had been in a different place, their relationship not broken at the moment, he would have kissed her. Made a silly joke to hear her laugh before kissing her again.

But, at the moment, what he was able to offer to make her smile was pie.

“There’s extra whipped cream too,” he said, taking it from the bag. “Which we can share.”

“Okay,” she said, stepping back and setting the containers onto the table. They sat down and he handed her a fork, taking his pie and opening the lid.

The air conditioner kicked on again, humming quietly as they shared their pie and the whipped cream. He watched her eyes close with nearly every bite as she smiled happily and he smiled back.

The slice of sweet potato pie, one of the best he had ever tasted.

#fictober24 #the x files #xf fanfic #driving #teasing #laughing #between season 10 and 11 #separated but still together #diners #sharing a meal #pie #motels #xffictober24

44 notes · View notes

aloysiavirgata · 2 months ago

Note

A Mulder-Scully child/children in an interfaith household. Chag Urim Sameach, Virgata Family!

From here, darling. Merry (late) Christmas and Chag Sameach! https://www.tumblr.com/aloysiavirgata/761731982784888832/loved-your-skinner-pov-i-am-the-ultimate-sucker

***

Baby Matilda, dimpled and blue-eyed with a thick shock of cinnamon hair. Baby Matilda, fat as a soup dumpling, blinking curiously as her siblings and parents and grandmother gaze down.

“Chag sameach,” say William and Fiona, Hebrew-school mindful. Their ch- careful as their father’s Bar Mitzvah lessons.

Silas and Clara, less confident, mumble Merry Christmas to her, though it’s two weeks away. Mulder palms their glossy heads, beaming. The tree lights are tacky and bright and gorgeous. They make stained glass circles on his children’s faces.

Margaret, chamomile-warmed and still a little baffled by the existence of these children, cuddles Tilda close.

Salt-dough handprint menorah ornaments on the Christmas tree. Cocoa and dreidels by the fire. Latkes and dripping goose fat and boozy sweet fruitcake. Marzipan and mistletoe and sufganiyot.

William retreats to the big leather armchair with his illustrated book of winter holiday traditions from around the world. Silas and Clara head off to find the cats, and Fiona sneaks another marshmallow into her mug.

Mulder does not believe in god because the notion of an interventionist deity like Scully’s is a Lovecraftian horror to him. But Scully still wants to. Scully cannot look at herself and her five children and not believe that there must be Something who loves her, at least a little.

***

2 AM.

Mulder brings Tilda over to the bed, warm in a deep blue flannel sleep sack with silver moons on it. She is complaining loudly. She is the mottled pink and yellow of a Rainier cherry, with flailing round fists.

Scully takes the unhappy baby to her breast and sighs as the milk lets down. Tilda, already the fiercest of her children, latches on with something like aggression. Tilda has the fattest cheeks of all their babies, the plumpest dinner-roll feet.

“I think maybe she was also a twin but ate the other kid in the womb,” Mulder observes. “I’m going to see what Si and Clara think. As the house experts.”

Scully adjusts the baby. “That’s great, that’s exactly an appropriate question for preschoolers.”

Mulder stretches out beside them on the bed. He loves these lost hours. “Ahhhh, these modern kids are too soft. When we were babies they just gave us bottles full of lead paint and sent us off at six to the asbestos factory.”

She looks at him in amused disbelief. “Mulder you were wearing Brooks Brothers at birth. Your mother had a night nurse for you and Samantha. There’s a picture of you at like 6 eating latkes with crème fraiche and caviar.”

“Okay well first of all those were blini and that’s how they’re traditionally served so pardon my cultural sensitivity.”

Even Tilda pauses nursing to look at him.

“Oh you too?” Mulder pokes his daughter in the belly. “Watch it kid, because she won’t be making all your meals forever.”

Scully sticks her out tongue, switches Tilda to the other breast.

Mulder begins to doze when a blood-curdling shriek splits the night from down the hall. He jumps up, reaches for his hip out of habit.

Fiona, still shrieking, races into the room and launches herself into the bed. She clings to her father like a koala, sobbing. “The Yule Cat,” she wails into his neck.

Tilda, born into the whirlwind, remains unperturbed by her sister.

“I DIDN’T DO IT!!!” William yells, racing in after, hair sticking up everywhere like his father’s

Scully narrows her eyes at that. “William what-“

“SHE STOLE MY BOOK I SAID IT WAS TOO SCARY FOR HER!”

Fiona, tear-stained but no longer howling, points a finger at him. “I didn’t steal your dumb book I just was LOOKING at it while YOU sneaked another sufganiya!”

William scowls back. “Well I wasn’t going to tell but I saw you ate four more marshmallows!”

Mulder peels Fiona off his chest. He looks sternly at both of his children. “First of all we do not narc in this family.”

“Tattle,” says Scully, exasperated.

“We do not tattle in this family,” Mulder amends. “Unless someone is making a choice that will endanger them or someone else. You only tell us to HELP not to HURT.”

Fiona’s lip starts to tremble again. “He eats you up,” she whispers. “Daddy the Yule Cat eats you all up.”

“Oh, honey, it’s not-“

William takes her hand. “Fee?”

Her eyes are brimming again. “Yeah?”

“Come in my room and we can read about Saint Lucia’s Day. The oldest girl gets a special dress and a crown.” William’s face is earnest, excited to share something new with her.

She brightens, Yule Cat seemingly forgotten. “Yeah? Daddy can I have a Saint Lula dress and crown?”

“Sure,” Mulder says, yawning.

Fiona hops down, still holding her brother’s hand. They head to his bedroom and his reading light goes on.

Mulder takes the baby, tosses a blanket over his shoulder, and gives her a few solid thwacks. She belches like a sailor.

Scully laughs, delighted. “God, remember when you first tried with William and I had to explain the goal was to burp him, not put him to sleep?”

Tilda is already out cold and Mulder returns her to the bassinet. “Listen if I broke the miracle baby you were going to be really, really pissed. Now that we have a basketball team…eh.”

Scully curls against him when he’s next to her again. “Mulder, I feel kind of awful, but I’m glad William took her because god help me, I did not have the energy for that child in the bed tonight.”

Having Fiona in bed was a lot like having a bag full of ferrets in bed. “No, no. Me too. Little narc.”

Scully pinches him. “Let’s sleep while the sleeping’s good.”

They nestle into the pillows, exhausted. The white noise machine, the scent of the fire, of jam, of cinnamon…Scully drifts into a gingerbread dream.

Little feet on the hardwood. “Mama,” Clara hisses. “Silas got scared when he heard Fee and now I’m scared too.”

“Got scared,” Silas echoes. “Me and Clara.”

Mulder barely wakes as he heaves his children into the bed. They jostle and squirm but eventually curl together, safe from the Yule Cat.

#xf fanfic #xfiles fanfic #msr #my fic #prompt #inbox #nauseating wholesomeness #family fic

44 notes · View notes

randomfoggytiger · 7 months ago

Text

Collector's Edition: Reworking Requiem and Mulder's Return (Part I)

Ahhhhhhhhhhhh, Requiem. Dear, sweet, why-you-gotta-do-this-to-me, Requiem.

Here are some old school-y AU fics.

Loose chronological order below~

jeri's (mulderscreek)

Whatever It Takes

The Alien Bounty Hunter came to me in a dream. He told me that he knew I was dying; the abductees from Oregon were victims of the same cancer. He told me that he had offered them a deal, and that he would offer me the same deal: I would be abducted. They would gather some tissue samples for tests. Then they would save me.

Of course, I was skeptical....

He told me Scully was pregnant.

Then I woke up.

Requiem: Mulder went willingly, hoping to be cured of brain cancer for his, Scully's, and the baby's sake.

Forte's (Gossamer) Half an Hour

"What's her chart say?" Mulder demands, oblivious to any need for quiet.

Langly gestures toward the nurse's station and scowls. "They've got her chart back there practically under lock and key," he whispers. "We haven't been able to get a look at it. I hacked into their computer system about an hour ago and there was nothing there for her yet except that she was admitted."

Requiem: Mulder corrals Mulder and TLG into good behavior when Scully is unexpectedly hospitalized.

Namarie's (LJ, mulderscreek)

All I Will Remember (mulderscreek)

I hadn't really worried that he would react to this news with anything but happiness, but it feels wonderful, anyway. I am so glad that he's here right now... wherever here is.

Almost as if he has heard this last thought, Mulder sighs and reluctantly lets go of me. "Well, I think we should try to figure out where we are."

Post Requiem: Mulder and Scully wake in the forest, disoriented.

Livia Balaban's Cunegund's Restoration (or, The Best of All Possible Worlds, Really) (1/2) and Cunegund's Restoration (or, The Best of All Possible Worlds, Really) (2/2)

It was all very dramatic, with the sun going down behind the ship, brilliant and gleaming orange behind the slowly lowering cherrypicker....

I camped out at the base of the apparatus, looking up into the ship, trying to learn as much as I could from the ground, but I couldn't see anything. It wasn't until the bucket lowered again that I saw the top of Mulder's head peek out from one edge of the circular opening. As soon as his eyes met mine, he leaned all the way forward, and flashed the most beautiful smile I'd ever seen. I forgot completely about the press, or the slight hollowing of his cheeks, or the dark circles under his eyes. All I saw was pure joy.

Post Requiem: Scully, TLG, Skinner, Krycek, and Morris Fletcher all rescue Mulder and the Bellefleur captives-- live, on national tv. Mulder has a surprise for Scully, too; but the little family can't catch a break before more Syndicate drama kicks up.

Meredith's (Tumblr) Brave New World

Her hand gravitated toward the Fruit & Fiber, but stalled inches from the box when an old memory surfaced of Mulder joking about her "nuts and twigs" breakfast. What would Mulder choose? She thought hard, but couldn't come up with anything. She'd never seen him eat cereal. He might not even like cereal.

She tamped down a wave of sadness. She knew him so well, and yet not at all. When she pulled him back to this world, their new lives would be uncharted territory, spent either together or apart. She tried not to admit the latter was a possibility.

Post Requiem: Scully stays within 50 miles of Bellefleur where she works and waits for Mulder's return.

aka Jake/aka 'Jake'/aka_Jake's

So This is Agent Mulder... (Gossamer)

Agent Mulder smells...bad. The odor reminds me of a place I visited years ago, back when I was serving warrants -- a torched animal shelter. You don't forget a stench like that. Burnt hair. Cooked flesh. Animal excrement. The whole building reeked. The same terrible air of death clings to Mulder now and the stink sets my teeth on edge.

Post Requiem: Mulder is returned 8 weeks later, determined to leave again to help the Rebels. Doggett, more than anyone, gets it.

Widow Orphan (Gossamer)

"Bill was my second husband." She could see this news surprised him. He nodded, eyebrows rising toward his hairline while she continued. "I married a man, a boy actually, named John Parker when I was seventeen. I married him because I was pregnant. Don't look so shocked, Fox. Unmarried girls get caught all the time."

"I'm not judging."

She leveled a glare at him. You better not be, young man. You've got a little surprise of your own waiting back at home.

Post Requiem: Mulder is returned to Maggie's house, insisting she go on the run with him. Turns out, she's rather good at duck-and-diving.

Lara Means's (Ao3) Rescue Mission 01 and Rescue Mission 03 - Comrades

She turns back toward the jet's doorway and extends her hand, then he comes out to join her at the top of the stairs.

Mulder.

Now it's real.

He's thin, too thin. And he looks weak. Scully slides an arm around his waist and he drapes his arm around her shoulder -- he has a cane in his other hand. Together they move slowly down the steps, helping each other.

Post Requiem: Krycek and Scully rescue Mulder from Ellen's Airforce Base.

spookycc's At What Price?

"*What* does he need?" she pushed.

"As I said," Cancerman went on calmly, "Something *we* cannot provide him with."

"Tell me," Scully asserted.

"Something only *you* possess."

Post Requiem: Scully sacrifices her baby to save Mulder's life.

Avalon's In Dreams

She shut the drawer, still holding the picture, and set it on top of the dresser, pulling the little stand out from behind it to prop it up. It looked nice, she thought, sitting there next to the picture of Mulder and Samantha. It looked like it belonged.

Post Requiem: Mulder's psychic childhood friend drops in to help Scully find Mulder.

Jen's (mulderscreek) and Lauren's (mulderscreek) Introspection: Return

Her hands turned to ice at that moment as she greedily drank in the message.

"He's at Georgetown Memorial, Scully, I feel it. We sent Byers to check it out. Hope you're awake to hear this."

Post Requiem: Mulder is returned four months later, chipped. Acting on a hunch, Scully takes hers out, realizing it had, somehow, glitched.

Vulpecula (Vulpecula 01 - 08 and Vulpecula 09 -14) and Phoenicia (Phoenicia 01 - 05)

And then, he's there. His head bobs lightly with his familiar gait, and his eyes seem to be searching for something. For someone?

I start walking toward him, and he turns away from me, still looking. I begin running, and I hear my voice calling out his name. He spins around, his eyes wide with surprise, and then our eyes lock. His face splits into an enormous smile, and he starts running towards me with, I'm sure, the same desperation that I'm feeling.

Post Requiem: Scully limps by with the support of her whole family; and runs into Jose Chung, Phoebe Green, and even Gibson Praise before Mulder's return. When he does, happier endings unfold from there.

Mummy Dearest

Slowly but surely, the bandages were removed. Scully was immeasurably relieved to see his legs again; they were still nicely tanned and scar-free. He was even free of the scar from the bullet that got him all those years ago. Scully thought that was a bit odd, but didn't really care too much.

Post Requiem, Crack: Mulder is returned, wrapped up in bandages.

Lolabeegood's (mulderscreek) Five Months Lost (Gossamer)

"Okay, before that…how did you get here?" she said as she looked him over for strange markings.

"Scully, you're starting to scare m…"

"Mulder!" she snapped.

"Here in the bedroom here?"

"Here in my apartment here!" she snapped.

"I have a key, remember?" Mulder looked at her strangely.

Post Requiem: Mulder is returned, five months later, with false memories.

T. Griffen's Faith

All I wanted was to be alone, to grieve and feel ill in the solitude of my apartment, but Mom turned this into the event of the year. A large party was planned for December twenty- third, with every Scully and Harper family member known to man in attendance, and then just the immediate family on Christmas Day.

Post Requiem: Scully trudges along, trying to keep up her faith, while finding surprising sources of support and comfort from her family (and Mulder, after his return.)

Ten's (xffics) A Fuller Canvas

The man in the bed felt his breathing and heart quicken, and not just because of the details filling his mind.

Scully.

He knew who he was and he knew who she was.

And she was pregnant.

Mulder was very glad that he was lying down. It saved a shocked collapse.

Requiem: Mulder is returned 6 months later; and takes a peek before Scully can break her news to him.

Ambress's Tidings

Scully thought she would crack in two when, in the car, Mulder put his head down on her shoulder. She had sat in the back with him without thinking about it. At first, she thought he was asleep, but then she caught the flash of light reflecting off his open eyes in the rearview mirror.

He was watchful, prepared for fight or flight.

Post Requiem: Mulder is returned, mute and barely responsive, in a park bathroom. Scully helps coax him back to himself.

Lorri's (mulderscreek) Wait Until Your Father Gets Home and Your Father Came Home (MC) and Your Father's Child (MC)

I call Skinner every hour until he can tell me when Mulder will be home. His plane won't arrive until nearly noon, but I am dressed and waiting for him by 6 a.m. At 7:15 my phone rings again. I answer it and hear a long pause, then "Scully it's me." I feel like I am going to pass out. My arm instantly drops to my belly and I cradle you in an unconscious gesture. Mulder tells me he is on the airplane, on his way home. There are so many things to ask him, but they can all wait. Right at this moment all I can do is savor the sound of my name in his voice. "Hurry," I tell him. "Hurry."

Post Requiem: Scully talks to her baby as the months bleed into one another, Mulder flies home, and her due date fast approaches.

Alcott's Exit

Mulder was in tears now, wrapping his arms tightly around his body, retreating deeper.

...There was no response.

"Listen to me," Byers said, with more firmness than he felt. "Are you listening? If you want to see her, you have to get better first. Do you understand?"

Byers was desperate; he had no idea how he'd arrange him to see her. But the spark in Mulder's dead eyes seemed to make the deception worth it.

Post Requiem: TLG are able to intercept and retrieve a wounded Mulder right before Scully goes into labor. Reluctantly, they figure out a way to work him into the secret plan.

Lee Burwasser's (mulderscreek) Quis Custodiet (1/2) and Quis Custodiet (2/2) (mulderscreek)

At last Langly sat back and angled the laptop to give Mulder a view of it. The rest got up to gather behind the two. There was a crude figure in robes and long hair behind a tall rectangle with a shorter one beside it. Langly did something with the cursor that made the robed figure flash. Mulder looked from the flashing figure to Langly, who made a solemn face and mimed banging with a gavel. Mulder nodded.

...Langly sat down and moved the black-circle figure back to its table. Another figure from the opposite table then moved to take its place. Now Byers got to loom over Frohike and do the bridge guardian routine. When Byers sat down, Langly restored the figures to their places and glanced at Mulder, who nodded and punched the blond's shoulder. Then he looked around, finally went over to Scully's desk and brought the desk calendar back to show to Scully. He riffled the sheets and gave her an eloquently questioning look. Scully spread her hands and tapped the judge figure. Mulder nodded again, shrugged resignation and put the calendar down.

Langly flung up his hands. "Ya got it."

Post Requiem: Mulder is returned with aphasia; and Scully fights tooth and nail to prevent his relative from winning caretaker rights in court.

ML/ML_is_me’s (Ao3, Gossamer, DW, Invidiosa)

Another Gray Morning, Transfigured Night, Comes the Dawn, and Beloved Protector

"HOW IS SHE?" Mulder repeated loudly. When Skinner didn't reply right away, he added, "What aren't you telling me?"

Then all at once, he *knew*. "Scully had a baby, didn't she?" he said slowly, words and images forming in his mind as he spoke.

Post Requiem: Mulder is returned a year later, face first in the dirt. Skinner and TLG find him, and decide to surprise Scully without forewarning.

The Secret Language of Babies

I couldn't even be with her during the delivery.... The best I could do was an audio monitor from the delivery room....

When I heard Will's squall for the first time, I cried. In front of Skinner and everything. I think he was crying, too. He took his glasses off and polished them vigorously, turning away from me as he did so.

When they finally brought Scully and the baby to see me, I cried again. But that was in front of Scully, and she's seen me cry before. I wanted to touch them both so badly I would have broken the thick glass separating us with my own hands. But at the time, I could barely lift my head from the pillow.

Post Requiem: Mulder reminisces on his return, slow recovery, and happy reunion.

Age Cannot Wither and Nor Custom Stale

Washington, DC, is one of the last stops they make before their ultimate destination. All of the usual monuments are there, plus more. The Esplanade and all the other open areas display more statuary and symbolic sculptures and fountains than ever before.

The most meaningful monuments to them are the personal ones. Scully directs Mulder to a small park he remembers from years ago. This is where Melissa Scully is buried, and now so is Margaret Scully. The surprise to him is that Walter Skinner also has a stone nearby.

"He could have been buried at Arlington," Mulder says.

"He wanted to be among friends," Scully replies simply. She wordlessly points out another stone, a small obelisk with three names inscribed on it....

It's not until later that it occurs to Mulder that there is no stone for their son, and by then he's unwilling to bring it up. He can see that this trip is already taking a toll on Scully.

Post Requiem: Scully is immortal-- watching her son grow up, live a life like his father's, grow old, and die-- until Mulder suddenly appears, barely aged, in a Bellefleur hospital.

Invisivellum's (Tumblr) Surreal Thing (MC)

I studied him carefully, letting Scully's words settle down like rain upon me. I knew that, if I stayed silent for a moment, she would explain. I chewed on my lower lip and focused on the baby. He was still trying with all his might to drag my hand closer to his open mouth.

I looked at his eyes.

I blinked, put my finger under his chin and tilted his face up so I could have a better look. He raised fine reddish brows at me and clamped his mouth down on the knuckle of my thumb. Something about his eyes...

I think I stopped breathing.

Post Requiem: Mulder is returned 15 months later, waking to Scully and a baby that, he assumes, is another Emily.

mrkeller/Mary Ruth Keller's (FFN) Lux Perpetua

"Don't try to move too fast, you've been unconscious for a week now."

She seemed *more* than content. His partner was distinctly at ease. As more memories flooded back, he seemed to know the reason why. "Motherhood suits you, Scully."

"What?" She had cocked her head at him.

Post Requiem: Mulder returned a year later to no baby, an expanded X-Files office, and Scully promoted as its A.D.

Ellie/EllieL's The Rusted Wheel of Things

Scully pulled away, turning to sit between him and the cocoa, handing him his cup just as four girls, all with hair in braids and bows terribly similar to the dog's stylings, marched into the living room, led by Hannah.

"Mommy, where's the Ouija board?"

Mulder did his best to stifle a laugh, unsure of whether he found their hair or the question funnier.

Post Requiem: Mulder is returned 7 years later to an adoring little ballerina.

Keleka's Heart Turned Inwards 01 and Heart Turned Inwards 02

"Agent Mulder, I'm Dr. Andrew Scully. I'm the doctor who admitted you."

Mulder was confused for a moment and then realized the mistake. "Oh, I meant Dr. Dana Scully. My partner at the FBI. Is she here?"

Dr. Scully said nothing for a moment and then stepped away to pull the curtain around the bed, offering them some privacy. He pulled up a stool and sat down next to the bed.

Post Requiem: Scully waits 30 years for Mulder-- but he's actually found by his son.

Shoshana's Almost Home (4/4)

Ironically, Mulder hadn't ended up in any medical facility they'd been monitoring; he'd hitchhiked his way to Portland, flying home in a comfortable jet. He'd been shell shocked the entire way home, gazing with disbelief at the date on all the newspapers he could muster.

His worries had been far from over, of course. Life had thrown him another curve ball on top of his seemingly extreme case of amnesia--a red-headed partner three months shy of her due date.

Post Requiem: Mulder is returned with a few handicaps and mild amnesia; but other than that, he makes a recovery in time for quick wedding prep and another Syndicate kidnapping.

Thanks for reading~

Enjoy!

42 notes · View notes

goexchange-mods · 2 months ago

Text

omg! Aziraphale and Crowley are fans of MSR! Watch (or ig read) them help Mulder and Scully get together in this X-Files X-over!

“Aren’t they a sweet couple?” Aziraphale sighs a lovelorn sigh.

"They're not together."

“Really? I think they want to be.”

Featuring an appearance of the "only one bed" trope and a special cameo of the infamous movie that Aziraphale watches in a motel room.

The Good Omens Exchange is featuring one-a-day gifts each weekday and 3 gifts every weekend throughout the holiday season! Subscribe to our blog for the very best of Good Omens transformative works during the weeks of the Exchange. Our Secret Creators will be revealed at the end.

#2024 exchange #good omens exchange #good omens #the x files #aziraphale and crowley #mulder and scully #crossover fic #please reblog

18 notes · View notes

monikafilefan · 1 year ago

Text

Jingle Bells and Jealousy 2

Through the years, we all will be together

If the fates allow

Scully is trying incredibly hard to enjoy herself tonight, humming along to Sinatra, doing her best to refrain from scanning the masses in hopes of seeing Mulder’s distinguished profile amongst the crowd. He’d said he wasn’t coming and she unfortunately believes him. Forced merriment hides her disappointment well. Smiling politely behind her wine glass at coworkers she barely knows, going out of her way to wish A.D. Kersh and his wife a Merry Christmas. She prays her cheery disposition shines a positive light upon, not only herself, but her partner as well. Wherever the hell he is, she thinks, frustrated with herself as much as she is with him.

Hang a shining star upon the highest bough

And have yourself a merry little Christmas now

She tunes out the music to contemplate whether her unintentional evasiveness with Mulder regarding her “date” is the catalyst they need after his concussed “I love you” line in Bermuda she can’t stop thinking about, or just intentionally deceptive on her part. The flame of possessiveness that flared within his eyes when he’d assumed she was dating had sparked intrigue in her own. The fact that she was initially referring to him as her date to Skinner had flown right over her brilliant partner’s head. Throwing accusations her way should have just pissed her off, but it’s been his heated reaction in the aftermath that’s left her oddly reassured in his jealousy. She’d left the bullpen feeling wanted in ways she only fantasizes about alone in bed at night as her fingers slip between her thighs.

Her heart races at that thought.

Not since her rebellious run-in with Jerse has she seen her partner similarly flustered, and she’d be lying if she said it doesn’t thrill her. With Diana Fowley’s unwelcome presence continuously prodding at Scully’s penchant for jealousy, she’d selfishly allowed Mulder’s imaginative mind to run wild with the ridiculous idea that she has somehow found the will to date someone who isn’t him.

Scully bites her lip as guilt churns up waves of nausea in her gut.

“Merry Christmas, Agent Scully,” Agent Fields, whom she recognizes from the bullpen, interrupts her thoughts. The strong scent of bourbon on his breath makes her rock back on her heels. She supposes he’s been drinking from the punch bowl she’d spotted Tom Colton spiking earlier. “Where’s Spooky?”

“Merry Christmas,” she sighs wearily into her wine glass and walks away.

She’s leaving, she decides, as she squeezes her way through the throng of swaying bodies and twinkling decor. She doesn’t really want to be here without Mulder by her side anyway. She’s turned down three drunken dance offers already and Kersh could care less if she’s here to play nice in hopes of getting off desk duty. The more time she spends at this party, the more she wishes she was lounging on Mulder’s couch, sharing cartons of bad Chinese, and watching A Christmas Story.

“Oh!” she squeaks in surprise, bumping into the stalwart chest of the man moving toward her. Her wine spills over the rim of her glass as they nearly knock one another from their feet. “I’m so sorry!”

“No, no!” he laments, holding her close as she finds her footing. “Agent Scully, it’s me who’s sorry. I saw you coming, but I couldn’t move. It’s like a mosh pit in here,” he laughs.

She chuckles in return. “Well, it seems we both got caught in the crowd.”

Holiday music continues to play far too loudly for those who aren’t three sheets to the wind as the man she now realizes is Special Agent Derek Jenkins from the fingerprint lab leans close to hear. He’s a new hire in the lab. A sweet, handsome man who has flirted shamelessly with her three times in the last week… and still, she remains unequivocally uninterested.

“Agent Jenkins, hello.”

“Call me Derek, please.” He steers her towards an empty corner, cupping her dripping wine glass with his palm. “Let me help you.”

“Oh, that’s not necess-” Before Scully protests further, the agent spins around and snags a Santa-shaped napkin from one of the mini round tables sprinkled about the reception hall, thrusting it her way. “I appreciate it.”

He waves a finger by her head. “You have a splash of wine in your hair there. By your eye.” Flustered, Scully swipes the napkin through her hair. “Missed it. I’ll get it.”

He reaches up to pinch the stray strand soaked with wine between his fingertips and tucks it behind her ear.

“Thanks, Agent Jen- Derek.” Hiding her embarrassment, she takes a step back, her shoulder knocking a bundle of mistletoe to the floor that was taped on the wall. She sighs, “I’m not usually this uncoordinated.”

“I don’t doubt that.” Derek grins brightly and picks up the plastic flower, twirling it around his finger. If she’d met him sooner, say six years and one Fox Mulder ago, she could have easily been swept off her feet by his charm. “Where’s Agent Mulder? I mean, uh, not to be abrupt, but you’re not with someone, are you?”

The hopeful gleam in his brown eyes makes her blush. The earnest, puppy dog look of them mimics Mulder when he awaits her opinion on whether or not a case is an X-File.

“I…” Scully finds she has no idea how to answer that layered question without a hint of honesty, and Christmas seems like a terrible time to lie.

Is she with someone? Her mind rewinds to moments of commitment she’d made in the past: shaking her new partner’s hand, risking her life multiple times to keep him that way, then telling him she wouldn’t change a day.

“I suppose I am,” she finally says.

Scully expects her face to flush at the admission. Expects the entirety of the FBI to turn and point at Mrs. Spooky as they collect their bets. Instead, she’s oddly at peace with her confession to someone she hardly knows.

Derek nods in understanding, as if he’d already known the answer, giving her arms a gentle squeeze. “So for clarity’s sake, you’re not interested in pursuing a relationship with… let’s say, someone like me. Not when you’re already in one.”

Scully licks her lips, her breath catching.

She could deny the unyielding hold Mulder has held on her heart since March of ‘93. They’ve never even kissed, for God’s sake. But after years of living and breathing for only each other, she can’t. She won’t.

So she smiles instead, “I suppose not.”

“Your partner, then?” Derek mumbles to himself when instant awareness pulls his pout into a smirk.

Her silence is all the confirmation they need as she and Derek share a good-natured chuckle. This unexpected run-in has somehow left her more content in her feelings than she has in a while. Despite Scully’s unease of Diana’s position in Mulder’s past, personally and professionally, she can no longer repress the way her best friend completes her.

Jingle bell, jingle bell, jingle bell rock

Jingle bells chime in jingle bell time

Another song reverberates through the loudspeaker nearby. The upbeat tempo matches the buoyant shift in Scully’s mood. She barely registers that Derek’s arms are still bracketing hers, or the swift way he leans down to speak closer.

“I suppose I already knew that, but thank you for being honest with me. And with yourself too, it seems,” Derek says knowingly in her ear before pressing the mistletoe into her hand. “Merry Christmas, Agent Scully.”

At that moment, someone in the crowd loses their balance and bumps into Scully from behind, jolting her forward. Derek’s lips accidently graze the corner of her mouth, and remarkably, they both ignore the mishap as if it never happened. Being bounced around like holiday pin balls seems like a regular occurrence tonight.

“Merry Christmas to you, too,” Scully replies and turns around just in time to see a flash of familiar green eyes narrowing in on hers.

What a bright time, it's the right time

To rock the night away

“Mulder?” Scully blinks and he’s gone, vanishing within the horde of ugly Christmas sweaters.

Scully’s heart hammers harder with every step she takes toward the opposite side of the room.

Mix and a-mingle in the jingling feet

That's the jingle bell

“Mulder!” she hollers, stretching on tip-toe to see where he’s gone. But it’s worthless. The music is too damn loud and the people too damn tall to make a difference.

That's the jingle bell

As she weaves her way through the maze of tinsel and blow-up reindeer decor, she spots Skinner wiping frosting from his candy cane tie at the dessert table. No wonder she’d never seen Mulder all the way back here. She’s trembling, rubbing her arms with worry by the time she reaches the A.D.. Panic at the realization of what Mulder must have seen and misinterpreted practically radiates through the fuzz of her green sweater.

That's the jingle bell

“Agent Scully, glad to see you’re enjoying yourself.”

“Sir, have you seen Mulder?” she blurts.

Skinner frowns down at an ink-stained paper plate he’s holding with black horns drawn atop Santa’s head. “He left already?”

Her eyes slip shut.

That's the jingle bell rooock

***

Scully shivers as she walks down the snow-dusted sidewalk. Her heels clack purposefully along the pavement, her heart beating in time with her vapored puffs of breath. She’s winded by the time she spots Mulder’s car idling at the curbside. The buttery light from the streetlamp above slices through the thick snowflakes pouring from the sky and illuminating his downcasted profile.

Scully knocks on the window.

Mulder startles, turning his forlorn stare onto hers peering in from the passenger side. He mouths her name in confusion and leans across the car to push open the door for her.

“Hey,” he says, surprised, as she climbs in and shuts the door. “Scully, you’re freezing. Where’s your coat?”

She shrugs and flexes her cold fingers in front of the blast of heat coming through the vents. “Inside where I left it.”

He’s silent for a moment. They both are, as a somber tone falls around them like the snow outside. Mulder frowns and reaches over to gently cradle her icy hands between his. They’re big and warm, and God, she practically melts the moment his plush lips drag across her fingertips.

“You came,” she whispers.

Her voice catches the moment she notices through the dimness how impressively handsome he is tonight. His black tux is taut in all the right places, hugging his strong shoulders and toned thighs perfectly.

He rubs the hot huffs of his breath into her knuckles as his honey-green eyes silently study her. “Where you go, I go, right?”

Her stomach twists tourniquet tight.

This guilt and aggravation is making her nauseous. After Antarctica, Scully knows exactly how true his statement is. She also knows she has every right to date whoever she wants and kiss whomever she pleases. But that’s not what she’s been doing, and as much as she has considered that option previously out of self-preservation, she’s never actually done either of those things for a reason. Even during the darkest days of their partnership, she has never yearned for anyone but him.

Scully laces her fingers through his. “I know.”

“Scully…”

“Shh.” She cuts him off with a bold nuzzle of her chin against their tangled hands, her free one reaching up to straighten his crooked bowtie. “You’re so handsome.”

He chuckles darkly. “Seems as though the Christmas casual memo never made it to my inbox.”

“You wouldn’t have read it anyway,” she teases.

“Ah, you know me well.”

They both smirk, their faces only inches apart, their thumbs gliding easily across one another’s. It seems two glasses of wine have softened her edges and weakened her resolve to keep her hands to herself. Wind whistling as it blows over the hood of the car breaks their locked gaze. The snow is falling faster now, layering the Taurus’s windshield in a pillowy white blanket.

Mulder squeezes her hand.

“I’m sorry, Scully.” His voice breaks. She closes her eyes and squeezes right back. “I’m sorry about a lot of things. But about what I said earlier, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to point fingers — pencils, actually,” he chuffs.

“Mulder.” Her tone conveys how much she finds his apology unnecessary in light of her own envious reactions in recent months. “I know that, too.”

“Being honest, all I want is for you to be happy. No matter who you’re with. But I thought after what happened my hallway it would’ve… Well, I was caught off guard by the thought of you dating,” he mutters with a shrug. “That’s my problem, though. Not yours, Scully.”

“I think I know what you saw in there that upset you, Mulder, but I can assure you it’s not what you’ve assumed.” Her tongue sweeps across her lip. “There was no date. There was no kiss.”

“You- there wasn’t?”

She looks him square in the eyes, because there is no one else.

“No, Mulder. I ran into Agent Jenkins — literally, and we talked. And I have to confess that I realized when you questioned me in the bullpen, I liked that you were territorial of me. It made me feel… vindicated.”

“Because of Diana.” It’s not a question but a statement born of recognition.

Scully nods, her face flushing. “But I only ever wanted to spend tonight with you.”

“Maybe Skinner was right. I do need to pull my head outta my ass,” he mumbles. Her brow arches at that. “I just thought I saw you and Jenkins…”

“But you didn’t.”

“Not really my business, though.” His curious eyes search hers. “Is it?”

She leans forward to rest her cheek against the edge of his headrest. He senses her tactile need and palms her jaw with the hand not clutched within her own. She turns into him as she contemplates her response, cascading her mouth across his thumb. It feels so good, but it’s not only his touch that has her pulse fluttering like a hummingbird, it’s all of him. It’s always been him.

“What if I want it to be?”

“That depends… is that you or the wine talking?”

She scoffs, “ Mulder -”

“How do you feel about me, Scully?” His pout twitches as he stares at her. Into her, with such unfiltered affection Scully’s heart can barely endure it all. “Because I know exactly how I feel about you. You’re my favorite person. My best friend, my one and five billion. And, I love you.”

Tears sting her eyes and her stomach swoops to her knees. She’s warm, flushed, as if her partner is the sun and he has finally shone his rays upon her upturned face.

“God, Mulder.”

“ Head injury aside, I meant what I said in Bermuda.” His forehead touches hers. “I fell in love with you, Scully.”

“W-when?” Her chest is suddenly so tight she can barely breathe. “When did you…”

“Uh, I don’t… I’m not really sure. I just know I did.”

She nods against him, because nodding is all she can do as her heart races and eyes blur. Because she’d wanted to believe his endearing words in Bermuda badly, but she was too afraid to risk it all on her misguided hope. Because as intense and frustrating as their inseparability is sometimes, their connection defies the laws of nature: the sky is blue, the sun is bright, and Scully endlessly loves Mulder.

“Scully?”

“I-” Her lashes flutter away tears. God, she’s dizzy, knowing what she’s about to do next. “I think I’ve always been in love with you, Mulder.”

He inhales sharply, maybe a little surprised by her candor. But then his hand is cradling the back of her arched neck and pulling her into a tight hug, his other arm wrapping around to caress the small of her back. “Scully.”

“You’re the only one, Mulder,” she whispers fiercely as she hugs him back, her cold nose pressed into the warmth of his neck. “You’re my one and five billion, too.”

“Never thought I’d hear you say that outside of my dreams,” he whispers into her hair and rocks her back and forth along the seats, quivering in her grip as they cling to each other.

Scully presses a lingering kiss to the humming pulse point in his neck. She can feel his rushing adrenaline thundering under her lips. She smiles, her own heart racing, a little lightheaded after uttering secrets of her heart aloud. But relief of her confession rises like bubbles beneath her skin because she has said it to Mulder: the man she trusts and loves more than anyone.

Mulder pulls back and looks at her. She knows her eyes are wide and wet, her cheeks pink as she tips her chin upward, aching for him to kiss her. “I have mistletoe,” he says wryly.

Scully laughs and reaches into her pocket, pulling out the one she’d knocked from the Bureau’s wall. “Me too.”

He grins, nodding to his own red and green flower shoved in the car’s ashtray. “You think we need them?”

The husk in his voice vibrating against her jaw pulls a deep moan from her mouth. “Mulder, please. ”

He moans back while peppering soft, tender kisses across her jawline, up her cheek, and to the corner of her parted lips. She clutches his tux in her fists and gives it an impatient tug as his mouth finally melds with hers. Their kissing is gentle, insistent, and the way their tongues glide against one another sends tingles straight down her spine.

“Come with me tomorrow,” she mumbles in his mouth. Her eagerness may surprise him, but she wholeheartedly means it. She can’t and won’t hide the thinly veiled tone of desperation. She is desperate for him, after all. “Come to my mother’s.”

“Tomorrow’s Christmas, Scully.”

“I know.” Her hand dips beneath the jacket of his tux to splay her hand over his racing heart. “Christmas won’t mean anything without you, Mulder.”

His chin trembles. “Where you go, I go.”

Scully nearly sobs in relief. She dips her chin to hide her swollen-lipped smirk within the lapel of his tux.

“What're you thinking?” She feels the heat of his breath tickling her skin, his rumbling voice seeping deep into her bones.

Scully thinks that their partnership is not a mundane pairing. That it’s an intricately weaved relationship, a mass of fine-tuned threads tying them together. But she knows she cannot imagine a life without him in it.

“I think…” she lingers with her words, staring at their discarded mistletoe meant for only each other. “I think you should kiss me again, Mulder.”

“Again and again,” he promises before his mouth passionately possesses hers, their bodies tangling like twine.

“More,” she husks, and Mulder’s long leg bumps the radio’s dial, blasting “Jingle Bell Rock” through the speakers.

“And to think I thought I hated this song,” he quips with a nip to her bottom lip, kissing her again and again, just like he’d promised, until the fog on the windows is as thick as the love between them.

That’s the jingle bell rooock

#msr fanfic #chapter 2/2 #scully’s pov #angst #romance #christmas

76 notes · View notes