starbuck09256

[starbuck09256]

do you have any write-ups for Purity/the alien virus?

I've touched on it here and there. These posts--

Biogenesis’s BIG Problem with the Alien-Human Hybrid Virus

Mulder's Brain Disease: an Open-Minded, Analytical Dissection (In-Depth) and Season 8: Laying Waste to The Gift (with Its Own Canon) 

--probably fit the bill, while these--

The Mulder Family In-Depth (Part VIII): Tena, Amor Fati, and Who’s the Daddy and Mulder's Alien Baby Baby Trauma In-Depth (Part XVII): Two Steps Forward, and Going Down Swinging 

Mulder's Brain Disease: a Character Study (and Theory) 

Mulder's Alien Baby Baby Trauma In-Depth (Part XVIII): Trial by Fire and Trust Falls 

-- are more... "character studies."

Hope they scratch an itch. :DD

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happy birthday, Gillian Anderson! ♡ — August 9, 1968

I think people come in and out of our lives to teach us. And we teach other people. It's part of the process. They come in and they go out. Some stay for longer than others.

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how to say "I love you" in x-files [240/?] ⤷ 4.23 — “Demons”

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Happy birthday, Gillian Anderson!

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Just what I needed today.

Fic: Indulge Me (E, MSR)

1900 words; E for explicit sexual content; Scully likes to tease (a collaboration of sorts with @numinousmysteries @frogsmulder and the rest of the POÄNGpals in the nsfw channel) (AO3)

Sometimes Scully likes to indulge herself.

She makes Mulder lie back on the bed and close his eyes. He’s naked, so she can admire every inch of him, including the luxurious inches of his hard cock. She runs her hands over her breasts and teases her nipples, letting herself gasp so that she can watch his cock twitch. She rubs her palms down her ribs and over her hips, scratching lightly up her thighs just for the sensation. She likes knowing that he knows that she’s touching herself. She likes watching him struggle not to touch her or to open his eyes.

When she’s ready, she braces herself with one hand on his chest and slides the other down her belly and between her thighs. She parts her folds with her fingers and thumbs her clit, spreading her own moisture back and forth until she can hear the slick of it. He has to keep his eyes closed, or she’ll stop and take her toys to the bathroom and let him hear how much fun she’s having all on her own.

She usually leaves the bathroom door unlocked, though. The game’s more fun for her that way.

Today she was wet long before she got home. She knew he’d be waiting in her bed. She’d had to clench her hands on the steering wheel to keep her attention on traffic. She can feel the heavy ache of her cunt between her legs, the heat in her belly. She starts taking off her clothes the moment her front door is locked, leaving a train behind her as she goes. Mulder looks her up and down from among her pillows and swallows hard as he closes his eyes.

This time, she straddles him. She wants him to feel exactly how wet she is. She grinds against his belly, leaving a slick trail. She can feel his cock bumping against her ass. God, she wants him, but it’s more fun this way. They waited so long to experience each other like this. She likes to prolong the moment. It can’t all be quickies in the lab.

“Fuck,” he breathes.

“Yes?”

“You’re so wet.” He almost whimpers. “I want to taste you.”

“Maybe later,” she tells him. “If you behave yourself.”

His hands, flat on the bed, fist in her sheets.

She spreads her folds with two fingers, her other hand splayed over his chest. Her clit is swollen, acutely sensitive as she thumbs it. Pleasure flares through her, hot and sudden. She lets herself moan. Her middle and ring finger dip into the heat of her cunt and she moans again. She wants more. She wants him. But she’s going to wait.

Her fingers move in and out, in and out, rubbing against her most sensitive places. It sends sparks all through her. She knows he can hear the sucking sound of her abbreviated thrusts. He shivers under her, his eyes screwed shut.

“Scully, you’re driving me crazy.”

“What do you want to do about it?” She pulls her fingers out, wipes them on his skin, grinds against the wet spot she’s made. She dips her fingers into his mouth, letting him taste her. He sucks hard at them until she retrieves them. “Mulder. Tell me what you want.”

“I want to suck your clit until you scream my name,” he tells her. “I want you to ride my cock until you can’t walk straight. I want to be so deep in you we both forget we’re separate people.” She loves to hear him talk dirty, especially when his eyes are closed. It’s like a confessional, but much more entertaining: sins of aspiration. Instead of a rosary, she says his name. He groans a little and the sound goes straight to her cunt, a pulse of heat. She rubs her clit in leisurely circles, the pace at odds with what she really craves, but the tease is the point today.

For a few minutes, she fucks herself with her fingers, letting the pleasure build inside her. She picks the angle that’s the noisiest and lets herself be loud too. Mulder is breathing fast under her. She strokes her clit, slowly and then faster. When she can’t stand it anymore, she shifts backwards, straddling his hips instead of his belly, his cock between her thighs. She takes him in one fist, presses him between her folds. It takes some shifting to get his cock wedged deep between her lips. There’s definitely enough of him to go around.

“Open your eyes,” she tells him, and there’s a flash of green as he gazes at her. “Hold on at the base.”

He wraps his fingers obediently around his cock, holding himself steady. She shifts back and forth over him, his hot skin satiny against her own. She loves making him keep his eyes closed, but even more, she loves watching him watch her. His eyes are dark with desire. He licks his lips and she almost comes just imagining the touch of his tongue. She focuses on his cock instead: the firm length of it, the shaft with its veins, the bulbous head that stretches her a little ever time she sinks down on to him. Soon she’ll give herself the gift of that. But not yet.

His cock is sleek with her wetness. She can hear it as she rocks back and forth. God, he feels good under her. She could ride him like this for hours and never be tired of the sensation. For the first few weeks of their relationship, she was sore all the time, but now her hips are used to the way he spreads her wide. She rises high, lets his head press just barely against her, and then slides back down his shaft without letting him enter her. She does it again and then again until she’s panting and so is he. Fuck, she needs to change things up or she’ll just impale herself on his cock and ride him until her eyes roll back in her head.

She rises just a little, enough to break contact. He makes a frustrated noise. She takes his cock in her fist, jacking lightly a few times just to hear him grunt and groan.

“Watch me, Mulder,” she says, and he locks his eyes on her. She rubs his head deliberately over her clit, his fluid and hers mingling. It feels so fucking good, his delicate skin brushing the exquisitely sensitive bud of her clit. She moves him just right against her and startles herself with a high-pitched keening noise. His hands rise to her thighs, squeezing. Technically it’s against the rules of their little game, but she’ll allow it.

“Touch my tits instead,” she pants, leaning forward to give him access. Her knees dig into his ribs as she grips him for balance. He does as he’s told. His gaze is hungry, as if his eyes can lick and suck at her skin, all the things his fingers can’t manage. But fuck, his fingers are good. Her breasts fit in the palms of his big hands. She can feel his callouses from pistol and pencil as he rolls her nipples between his fingers.

“Scully, I’m close,” he tells her, interrupted by his own groans.

“Then you’d better lie back and think of England,” she says, still teasing her clit with the head of his cock. “If you come on my tits, you’re licking it off.”

“Fuck,” he says fervently. “God, Scully.”

“Do you want to fuck me face down on the bed?” she asks conversationally, as if she’s not half an inch from the edge herself. “Stretch me out under you, hold my wrists in one hand? Or do you want to haul me to the edge of the bed so you can fuck me hard while we both play with my tits? Should I ride you so I can take you deep?”

“Maybe I want to tease you for a while,” he says hoarsely. “One knee up on the bed and my hand in your hair. My cock in my hand, ready to take you at any moment.”

Her cunt clutches at the idea. She releases him, hitches her knee over him, assumes the position he described. He looks dazed, but he follows her, standing behind her. She can feel his cock bumping against her again. There’s a change in the tension of it when he takes himself in hand. And then he’s teasing her, rubbing his cock up and down between her folds, and it feels so familiar and totally new.

He handles himself differently than she does: firmer, more sure of his limits. His other hand pushes into her hair, not pulling, but holding her in place. She likes the way her back arches: it tilts her hips toward him and shoves her tits out at the same time. She props herself up with one hand and caresses herself with the other. In no time, they’re both groaning.

“On your back,” he says urgently, and hauls pillows from the top of the bed to bolster her hips as she complies. He rubs his cock between her folds a few more times, waiting, his whole body one eager line. God, she’s going to come as soon as he’s inside her.

“Please,” she says, and almost before the word has left her lips, he’s sinking into her. He pauses as he fills her to the hilt. They moan in unison. His hands clutch her hips and he’s thrusting into her, his body coiled tight as a spring. She can feel the way her cunt stretches to take his length, his girth. She loves the way they fit together, all at once perfect and challenging. And he’s hitting all the right spots inside her and he’s thumbing her clit as she touches her tits and she’s coming, shaking around him, calling his name as her body dissolves into pure sensation.

He holds out for a few more strokes, hauling her up somehow against his chest as she wraps her legs around his hips and her arms around his neck and holds on tight. He thrusts up into her as he cradles her against him and then his eyes flutter and she can feel his release. Their chests heave in rhythm as he sinks to the bed, her on his lap. She can feel her inner muscles flutter in a sort of aftershock. She wants to hold onto him as long as she can.

He nuzzles at her neck. They’re both sweaty and sticky and in need of a shower. Fortunately, they both fit in hers, as they’ve confirmed several times. She might even let him make good on his word to suck her clit until she screams. Mulder doesn’t seem to mind the taste of ejaculate, at least not his own, and he loves the way she tastes, as he’s told her over and over.

“Who won?” she asks.

“I couldn’t begin to tell you,” he says. “But I like playing these games with you.”

“It’s better than fighting in a rental car somehow,” she says, stroking his hair.

He smiles. “Somehow.” He tips his face invitingly and she kisses him. “What say we both win?”

She grins. “What say we rematch?”

“I’ll take you,” he says, shifting his hips, and he’s still just hard enough to make her gasp.

“Take me,” she says. “God, Mulder.”

“As long as you’ll have me,” he vows, his eyes wide and soft.

“Indefinitely,” she says, because it’s too soon to say forever, but he knows. She can see it in his twilight eyes.

[starbuck09256]

Awww

.

Fic prompt: Scully tells Mulder that he's her best friend. Bonus points if it's Season 5 or earlier.

Good news: it's season 2.

When Mulder wakes up, Scully is sitting beside his bed. She smiles and it’s like the sun has come out in his windowless hospital room. She balances an issue of JAMA on her knee and rests her pen on it.

“Hi,” he rasps.

“Hi,” she says, passing him a plastic cup of water. It’s room temperature and vaguely redolent of chlorine, but he drains it dry. The cup makes a hollow noise as he sets it back on his bedside table, his movements a little clumsy. The simple act of drinking has exhausted him. He sags back into the thin pillows. The mattress is stiff and uncomfortable underneath him. But he’ll be all right. Scully’s here.

For a moment, he just basks in the glow of her smile. He doesn’t know what time it is, but Scully has brought the golden hour with her. He would swear he can feel the warmth of her fond regard on his chilly skin. He turns toward her like a sunflower, his head heavy on his neck.

“You need to rest,” she chides gently, but she hasn’t picked up her pen again. That’s the sign of a serious Scully who’s no longer willing to entertain her convalescent patient. He knows her hospital-based tells rather better than he’d like. A specific crook to her brows means he isn’t out of the woods yet; a particular twist to her lips means she’s sick of his shit. But today he’s getting this smile like sunshine. Radiant.

She turns her head to look at something. Abruptly, he feels the weary cold striking out of his bones. The blanket covering his bed is pilled and worn, and the sheet is a little scratchy. He longs for the thick blanket he keeps on his couch. His toes are so chilled that they ache. He wants a duvet to wrap around himself and a hot water bottle for his feet, like the ones he had at Oxford, and he wants to sit in front of a roaring fire and drink a hot toddy while Scully explains the latest developments in medical whatsits and theraputic thingamabobs. Her voice is as warming as whiskey.

“Remind me where I am?” he says, just to hear her talk.

“At the military hospital at Eisenhower Field,” she tells him. “You were airlifted here after your shenanigans on that submarine.”

“Shenanigans?” He snorts. “That’s a weird way to say ‘crucial mission of international or possibly intergalactic import’.”

“Shenanigans,” she says in a firm dry tone. “I blame it on your antic disposition.”

“I can tell a hawk from a handsaw however the wind blows,” he says.

“Hmm.” She studies him. Heat blooms across his skin where her eyes touch him. “That’s not what your performance reviews say.”

“Those are confidential, Scully.” He pretends to glare at her.

“That’s why they put the ‘I’ in ‘FBI’,” she quips, and he can’t help grinning at her. His dry lips pull, the skin flaking a little. She pours him more water from a pitcher and passes him the cup. When he’s finished drinking, she pulls a tub of Blistex out of her bag and offers it to him. He dips a finger into the hollow her fingertip has made and smears the paste over his mouth. His lips tingle. It’s the medicated formula, with its whiff of camphor. He hands the little pot back over and she caps it and drops it back into her bag.

It strikes him, like a sliver of light has lodged in his heart, how precious she is to him. How glad he is that she’s here in this strange cold hospital room. It’s been so long since he’s known someone well enough to share lip balm with them. It was probably Samantha, a twist-up cherry Chapstick jammed in his pocket for when they were chapped by the sea air. But Scully shares her things, her thoughts, as easy as breathing.

“What did I miss?” he says.

She looks at him with mournful eyes. “I wish I didn’t have to be the one to tell you, but….” For a moment he tenses, uncertain, but the hint of a smile in her eyes tips him off to the joke. “Mulder, you missed the Super Bowl.”

He relaxes back into his insufficient bed. “That’s fine. I’ll just borrow your highlights tape.”

She laughs softly. “Missy was so mad about that. She didn’t understand at all.”

“I don’t think she likes me.”

“She likes you,” Scully objects, but she’s too honest to leave it unqualified. “Mostly.”

“I should have brought bonbons, huh,” he says.

“A nice amethyst crystal would have been more up her alley,” she tells him. “Maybe one of those singing bowls.” She shakes her head ruefully. “She gets protective. You’re not easy to explain.”

He tries to pretend nonchalance. “What did you tell her about me? Least favorite rental car chauffeur? Most dramatic slide show reveal?”

She ducks her head and shakes it from side to side. “I’ve had worse chauffeurs. I tried telling her you were my partner, but I don’t think she understood. It didn’t make sense to her, the things you did while I was in the hospital. The way you sat with me. Colleague didn’t seem to cover it. Not even partner.”

“So what did you say?” His mouth is dry again.

“I told her you were my best friend,” Scully says in a quiet voice. There’s some depth he can’t plumb in the way she says it, but she’s smiling like she’s holding something close.

“Good,” he says. He reaches out and taps the edge of her journal with one fingertip. “When you spring me from the joint, we can go down to the boardwalk and get those puzzle piece necklaces. And some salt water taffy.”

“Now that’s a worthy welcome-back gift,” she teases. “A little out of season, unfortunately. I don’t think it’s boardwalk weather today. Not in this hemisphere, anyway.”

“Remind me in the summer,” he tells her. “I owe you.”

They chat for a while. She makes him sip more water and sees him helped to the bathroom. She checks his temperature with the backs of her fingers and prescribes him another blanket, promising to return in the morning. He senses the potential for contraband rations: an Egg McMuffin concealed inside an innocent handbag, maybe even a hashbrown if she feels sorry enough for him in his refrigerated state.

He catches at her hand as she turns to go. “Scully. You didn’t tell me who won.” It’s a flimsy excuse, but it’s all his muddled brain can manufacture.

“The 49ers beat the Chargers.” She rubs her thumb absently over his knuckles. Probably some kind of diagnostic, like when she pushes her fingers through his hair. He wonders what secrets his body reveals to her. “Good night, Mulder. Get some rest.”

He slides quickly into sleep once she’s gone. His mouth still tingles like the kiss of a salt breeze. The creak of the bed reminds him of gulls calling in the distance, and he follows them down into a dream of summer sun glinting off Scully’s hair and making her eyes crinkle. Her fair skin is the color of the sand; her eyes are the sea and the sky, an endless blue horizon that calls him out of his body and into some blissful eternity. In his dream, her lips taste like taffy, and they are both healed.

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Orison, Draft Script: Mulder's first and only prayer was for Scully ❤️

-- "And I remember for the first time in my life, in that moment... I asked God for something. To keep you safe."--

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Days Off for Saving the World

1. These Smallest Hours

He kisses her as the ball drops, ringing in the New Year, ringing in his ears, tens of thousands of people cheering on the tinny screen in the empty hospital lobby like their screams are for them and them alone. He kisses her because he has to, on a cellular level, a pull as inexorable as a magnet to the pole, the seas to the moon. He kisses her because it really could be his last chance—because if the world does end, he wants the last taste he ever has of this life to be her berry-soft lips against his own.

Happy 25th Anniversary to the Millennium Kiss!

tagging @ao3feed-msr @today-in-fic

[starbuck09256]

Or that she always has William wearing space stuff and stars.

Scully sang the same song for both Mulder and William.

When she sang that to Mulder ( after her failed attempt to sleep with him, because of course that was her plan) she wouldn’t have believe that she would sing the same song to their child years later.

THEIR CHILD ( i’m not looking at you season 11).

It still’s shocking that they had a baby, god forbid they show them actually in love, but yeah it’s better to give them a whole baby.

*Also, let’s ignore that the scene where she sings to William it’s in the episode where he gets given up for adoption lmao*

oh man, his bunny hat. I’m going to be sick.

[starbuck09256]

Oh god it so is.

The thing about the X-Files is that it's monsters and conspiracies for 43 minutes and then you have that one minute between Scully and Mulder. Maybe it's a scene, maybe it's a gesture, maybe it's a sentence, maybe it's a look, but it's the most devastating, oddly-romantic thing you've ever seen and it leaves you gasping for breath.

[starbuck09256]

She also has absolutely no problem threatening or shooting anyone that might hurt Mulder including himself.

So far my favorite thing about the X-Files is that they stablish pretty early on that Mulder will break into, trespass or infiltrate government-adjacent and military facilities, he will get caught doing it, and then Scully will have to go and get him like "yes, he did something illegal, but he's just a silly little guy" as if Mulder's her annoying-but-harmless dog who got into someone's trash and not a grown ass man trying to expose government secrets.

And at first, both the viewer and said government agents who caught Mulder sneaking around will be under the impression that Scully is the reasonable, levelheaded rule-follower in this dynamic, but the show is quick to point out that if someone does refuse to hand Mulder back she is more than willing to highjack a car and hold another officer at gunpoint in a hostage situation, she would just prefer to ask politely and avoid the hassle.

[starbuck09256]

Girl he is actually always listening to you.

THE X-FILES | 2x13 'IRRESISTIBLE' & 6x15 'ARCADIA'

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True story tho

(insp.)

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some sketches I've done on my rewatch. I really should make more traditional art because im incredibly rusty at this. also an additional sketch under the cut. you don't have to look at it but it's there. just in case

oh no you looked at it. well! enjoy I guess?

[starbuck09256]

one of the things I love about the x files is that Mulder isn't a macho man (though some fic authors unfortunately forget about it), and he drinks that respect women juice. close-ups are under the cut

[starbuck09256]

Mulder absolutely would have picked her up and carried her to his apartment and made love to her.

THE X-FILES: FIGHT THE FUTURE (1998) | Alternate Hallway Scene

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you’re a small-town sheriff and two government agents show up on the crime scene with more sexual chemistry than should be possible: ridiculous amounts of tension, eye-contact, no personal space etc. BUT they’re arguing about whether or not a slug monster from Neptune actually killed that guy. you just kind of have to deal with them for the next few days while weirder and weirder shit starts happening but the red-headed lady mostly looks exasperated while the tall guy keeps trying to stick his fingers into weird goop (there’s weird goop now) or goes around earnestly asking everyone when they last saw the Neptune slug monster