#ch: fox mulder

[dreamingofscully]

Parallax (2/25)

CHAPTER 2

Rated E .-// AU: Cyberpunk/Dystopia .-// Casefile .-// @today-in-fic​​​​​​​

Read on Ao3

*** I will no longer be posting chapters directly on Tumblr

Soundtrack: Spotify .-// Youtube

THIS IS A COMPLETED WORK - CHAPTERS ARE POSTED DAILY.

Overall Content Warnings: explicit sex scenes, violence, heavy angst, minor character death

Specific content warnings will be listed at the beginning of each chapter. If you’d like to avoid them, just skim ahead (after the notes).

[french-vanilla-in-the-clouds]

just wondering when we can expect your next work? i’m so excited for it!!🥹

Heyy! I've been a bit inattentive to my writing lately, BUT I'm finally on the right track! Here's a list of what to expect in the next while 🖤🖤🖤

*** I'll be updating this post with links as the fics come through! ***

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𝐒𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐎𝐂𝐊

• Fixation (sherlock x reader)

*** Sherlock and Y/N have always teased each other relentlessly, claiming one was fixated on the other. One night while on a case, they realize that their banter holds a ring of truth. 𝐟𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟

• Deadlights (sherlock x reader)

Sherlock falls asleep on movie night, and has a vivid dream where he indulges in childhood fantasies and present-day love. *cough* Pirate!Sherlock *cough*. 𝐟𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟

• Hands of Gold (sherlock x reader)

*** Though he's known as a man of  reason and cold logic, Sherlock secretly covets a life of art and romance. When a bookworm moves next door, he finds himself bewitched, both body and soul. 𝐟𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟

• Painted Faces (sherlock x reader)

*** Though Sherlock and Y/N have established a close relationship, both fear the consequences of commitment. When Molly Hooper flirts with Sherlock at St. Bart's charity ball, hearts are tested and promises are made. MASQUERADE FIC!!!! 𝐡𝐮𝐫𝐭/𝐟𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟

• Thursday Thrill (sherlock x reader)

This fic is just Sherlock being totally chaotic. He comes home high off the thrill of case solving and proceeds to damage the flat, and drive Y/N insane (in the best way, of course). 𝐟𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟

𝐒𝐔𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐍𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐀𝐋

• Line without a Hook (sam x reader)

*** SONG FIC! Snapshots of Sam and Y/N's blooming relationship; from first meetings to hidden feelings. 𝐡𝐮𝐫𝐭/𝐟𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟

• Castles in the Air (sam x reader)

When Y/N gets too invested in hunting, Sam is there to remind her that it's okay to take a break. A slow dance in a local bistro sets things straight. 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐭/𝐟𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟

• Meeting and Dating Dean Winchester (dean x reader)

Headcanon! 𝐟𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟

• Midnight Song (castiel x reader)

After coming home from an impactful hunt, Y/N suffers a nightmare. Castiel hears her silent prayer and rushes in. Hidden feelings come to light. 𝐡𝐮𝐫𝐭/𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐭/𝐟𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟

• The Angel's Flight, ch 3 (castiel x reader)

Y/N comes home to the bunker and faces Dean for the first time since her exile. A phonecall with Castiel reminds her of everything she's lost, and everything she doubts she'll get back.

• Chevy to the Levy (tfw x reader)

Driving lessons with Sam, Dean, and Cas! What could possibly go wrong? 𝐟𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐗-𝐅𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐒

• The Burning Wire (mulder x reader)

*** When Mulder arrests Alex Krycek, he sets the stage for a dangerous reprise. Y/N is now in the line of fire, and Mulder's enemies are determined to hurt her if it means breaking his morale. He must make a choice: let her go, or condemn her. 𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐭/𝐟𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟

• Blue Arrow (mulder x reader)

After solving a high priority case, Y/N is celebrated by the bureau, and marked as a hero. Though she hasn't mentioned it, she owes her success to spooky Mulder and his X-files. She's captivated by the eccentric agent, and is delighted to see him at an FBI get-together. 𝐟𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟

• Visitation (mulder x reader)

While investigating an X-file, Fox Mulder begins stealing borrowing private documents from Agent Y/N. Punitive measures aren't exactly what he expected... 𝐟𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟

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𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒:

° To all you sweet angels who sent in fic ideas, the finished requests are labeled under *** You're all so patient and awesome, I adore you! *give me a heads up if I missed your request!*

° I'm running low on mobile data, so I'll start posting daily on June 28th. There won't be any particular order- I'll just pick and choose :)

° THANKS SO MUCH FOR WAITING ON MY WRITING! Procrastination, my beloved...

° Requests are still open, as is my taglist!

° LAST THING! There are so many awesome anons that I've been in contact with, so I was thinking... Shoot me an Ask with an emoji you'd like to be associated with, that way I can keep track of your asks and ideas! I'll make a post listing out the claimed emojis and all that jazz :)

Tagging everyone: @twisted-monster @starryeddie @high-functioning-lokipath @the-chaotic-cow @turkisherlockian @kabubsmagga @aephereal ​ @andthevillainshallrises ​ @eternal-silvertongued-prince ​ @bogginsreadings ​ @lumosouls @starstruck-loner @moon-kiss3d @tuttifuckinfruttifriday @adaydreamaway08 @stitchintimefan @justyourlocalwhore @waiting-for-cas-to-save-me @leigh70 @cookiemumster1 @uncompletemasterpiece @i-beg-your-pardon-laufeyson ​ @lucywrites02   @danzalladaggers @mrs-holmes @eliwinchester99 ​ @baby-bloos @danzalladaggers  @muldersufo @trinswhimsys @misaverawrites @lauraashley93 @cookiemumster1 @graceshifts @just-a-desparate-fangirl ​@natti-ice  

[prettyboy-like-you]

ANSWER SOME QUESTIONS

...then tag some folx you wanna know better!

.

thanks for my tag, @fawcett-hairspray-club! i'm definitely gonna be bombarding you with more questions about a few of your answers!

.

3 SHIPS: the toppest of trios, for me, is destiel, sterek and harringrove. in that order! (honorary mention to pynch and geraskier both of which almost tie with the latter).

FIRST SHIP: oooh i reckon it must be fox and dana from the x files *alexa play mulder & scully by catatonia* or actually maybe it's fox and sunflower seeds...

CURRENTLY CONSUMING: too much coffee, lots of water, and my sterek spotify playlist bc the biles × sourwolf brainrot is extremely strong rn. oh, and some new german words: aufregend! #duolingo

LAST MOVIE: the outfit (2022) by graham moore. it's sort of a mobster movie but not really and feels kind of like a play? it stars the excellent mark rylance, along with zoe deutsch and dylan o'brien. i enjoyed all of them and it very much.

LAST SONG: i know the shape by german error message.

CURRENTLY WATCHING: s4 of servant

CURRENTLY READING: just about to start how to be autistic by the wonderful poe and i'm also up to ch.6 of madi's brilliant sterek WIP fic light a spark.

CURRENTLY CRAVING: food, anything at all—at present i have nothing containing any real sustainance in the flat because i'm a tremendous failhuman xp

.

BTW it's @all-or-nothing-baby / @teencopandthesourwolf / @anoiseofgloriousdisdain in case you're wondering who tf i am! waaaay too many sideblobs lol.

tagging, play or nay:

@munsonboy @raisesomehale @jimmypricegf @thisgirlsays22 @catboynecromancy @seanchaidh7 @harrgrove @lovebillyhargrove @sketchyspirit @ghosthan @shealynn88 @sharkfish @novemberhush @demonlandline @greyhavenisback @witchsickness and anybody i could have tagged/anyone at all who sees this and wants to join in :)

[thewintersoldier]

THE X-FILES (1993-2018) 2.24 • "Our Town"

[s0ftpining]

heart eyes 👽 / shop

[majorsamcarters]

[scullydubois]

Only the Light Ch. 11

11/? | AU where Melissa moves in with Scully after Scully’s abduction | angst, msr slow-burn, occasional fluff | currently: Irresistible adjacent | T | 3k | previous chapters | read on ao3 | tagging: @today-in-fic

Emotions run high as Mulder and Scully are reunited after Aubrey and an accidental 'I love you.' Then, Scully gets her blood test results back.

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

Tapping her foot out of sheer impatience, Scully waits in front of the elevator in the Hoover building’s lobby. She glances at her watch; it’s 9:26am--earlier than she agreed to meet Mulder--and yet she couldn’t keep herself away any longer. She’s among a crowd of other agents, either bored with their jobs or killing themselves for it, and she’d bet her life savings that she’s the only one going down. 

The elevator dings, the up arrow illuminating to indicate its direction. Scully steps backward to let the other loiters slip in. She is left alone. As expected, the basement is not in high demand. Every day she starts off by waiting for the elevator, hoping that maybe it will be her lucky day and that down arrow will light up right away. And every day, she finds herself headed for the stairs like a dejected puppy. 

The heavy door of the stairwell clicks shut behind her as she descends into the building’s darkened depths. She traverses the stairs like she is back at the Academy running drills, trying to prove herself. It’s only one story, nothing much, and she takes it in eight seconds--she counted in her head. 

Her heart rate just a bit elevated and her hair just a bit displaced, she pushes out into the ever-familiar basement hallway. Halfway open, the door collides with something solid and whiplashes her backward.

“Shit!” The exclamation comes from the other side of the door. Scully flicks a stand of hair out of her face and tries again, this time with caution. She peeks around the door, and there he is. She’d believe he was a figment of her imagination if the door hadn’t just proved otherwise. She slips into the hallway, lets the door shut behind her. 

“Mulder,” she practically laughs, “are you okay?”

He kneads his right shoulder. “They’ve got to put a speed limit in there,” he groans. 

“May I suggest not standing right in front of the door?” she muses. 

“Well, considering we’re the only two who ever come down here, I figured I’d take my chances.” He bends to scoop up his key, his injury evidently not so serious after all. He jams it into the lock while Scully interrogates him. 

“How did you get down here?”

“Teleported.” He twists the key, and the lock surrenders.

“I was waiting for the elevator not sixty seconds ago. I didn’t see you head to the stairwell.”

They jaunt into the office, or as they have taken to calling it, their dominion. 

“I didn’t take the stairs,” Mulder tells her. “I took the elevator.”

Scully turns and looks through the doorway as if some fairy godmother will appear to explain it all. “What do you mean? I was waiting for the elevator. It went up. You didn’t get on it.”

“I don’t know what to tell you, Scully. I walked up, hit the down arrow, and the doors opened within five seconds.”

“But I-I took the stairs in eight seconds,” her voice high with frustration. “It’s impossible for the elevator to have beat me.”

“You have other redeeming qualities, I assure you.”

“Oh, really?” Scully coos. “Like what?” The more time apart, the more willing they are to walk the line when they see each other. Especially in the wake of accidental I love you’s. 

Mulder props himself against the desk. “We’d be here all day if I dove into it. Rest assured that a conveyor belt built in the 60s has nothing on you.”

A feeling Scully can’t quite identify bubbles in her chest. She smiles, looks away. “I bet you say that to all the girls,” she teases.

“Yup.” He tosses his keys in the air and catches them as they fall back to earth. “I don’t have much success with it...what am I doing wrong?”

Laughter flutters out of Scully, the butterflies in her stomach taking flight. It is a wonderful sound, a more certain version of the girlish giggles Mulder heard through the phone--the ones that followed him into his dreams. His eyes meet hers. They are the color of caramel this morning, she notices, sweet, sweet caramel. 

“You know it’s an hour earlier than we agreed to meet, right?” She raises an eyebrow in his direction. Mulder being willingly early is about as unlikely as catching Bigfoot. 

“I caught an earlier flight. I was going to surprise you, but you see how that worked out.”

“I don’t take kindly to surprises, Mulder,” she drawls, her pupils dilating as she looks up at him. 

“Yeah well, neither does my shoulder.” He rubs it dramatically, then squares himself up in front of her, hands on his hips. Her eyes are level with his lips. The image of her tongue gliding over his mole flashes in her head. It would feel--no, she can’t think about that. Thinking about feeling tends to lead her to some dangerous places. Namely, more feeling. 

The jig up, they snap back into themselves. “So, the case.” Scully plants herself in the chair in front of the desk. “What happened? And how’s BJ? Are she and Tillman going to raise the baby?”

Mulder sighs, swipes his fingers through his hair. “So Melissa is better, I take it?”

“Mulder…” Scully shoots daggers at him with her eyes. “Missy is fine. What happened in Aubrey?”

He sets his elbows on the table and rests his chin atop his hands. “I told you about Cokely, right? The suspect from the 1945 murders?”

Scully nods.

“Turns out, BJ is his granddaughter. Her father was adopted, so she didn’t know. Essentially…” he hesitates, hoping to slip his supernatural explanation into the field report without Scully’s interference. “BJ...she went crazy.” Scully’s jaw locks as she listens. “Genetic memory tends to skip a generation. I think the psychosis of her grandfather surfaced in her.”

Scully stares at the desk, at his hands against the desk, at his rolled-up shirt sleeves. She wants him to be kidding; she knows he’s not. 

“Is she…?” Her eyes plead for the answer she wants to hear. 

Mulder thanks her god that he’s able to assuage her fears, at least partially. “No,” he shakes his head. “But she’s being committed to a psych ward.”

“But she’s pregnant!” The desperation in her voice is about as cutting as Mulder has ever known. 

He softens his voice. “It’s an all-female ward. They’ll take care of her.”

“She’s just a woman, a normal woman…”

Of all the parts of the story he expected Scully to object to, this was not one. “She killed Cokely, and she tried to kill two other people, Scully. Me included.”

“She tried to kill you?!”

He nods, his face a solemn slate. “Tillman saved me. I’m fine.”

“You can’t go alone anymore, Mulder.” She chokes back tears. Mulder leaves his chair and kneels before her, shocked by how quickly emotion has sprung to the surface. “You can’t.”

He frames her shoulders with his hands, breathes words of comfort into her ear--”It’s okay, Scully. I’m okay.”

Her body trembles against him. “Mulder, if you died right now, I’d stop breathing. By my own hand or God’s.”

Mulder is seized with such sudden fear--such distilled awareness of his own mortality--that he wants to lash out, to tell her to never ever say that again or he would go far away and change his name and abandon this life just so that she would never have to hear of his death. Instead, he collects himself.

“I’ve always thought the moments you think you’re dying are the ones where you’re living the most.”

She hides her face in the crook of his neck. It is such a dignified thing to say, so completely Mulder. It tears her heart clean in half. 

“I’m screwed if that’s true,” she blubbers into his shirt. It smells like airport and aftershave. His hands meet her shoulder blades like he’s looking for angel’s wings. She imagines he must be disappointed. He’s not. He walks his fingers up and down her bra straps like a mother might rock her baby. He doesn’t mean it in a sexual way, but as an acknowledgement of what she is--not just a coworker, or his friend, or any ordinary human being, but someone--the only one--who makes him believe in holiness, the single thing he has never pinned his hopes on. 

He presses his lips to her cheek, catches her salty tears on his tongue. Speaking to her skin, he whispers, ”What’s wrong? Why did you leave Aubrey?”

He knows. Of course he knows, she’s known that he knows, but it still startles her to be caught in a lie. She turns her head so that he’s forced to take his lips from her skin. He cradles the back of her head instead, her hair getting caught between his fingers.

She’s told too much of the truth to lie anymore. “Something happened to me during my abduction. They did something to me, but I don’t know what. I’m trying to figure it out.”

She speaks plainly, raw as skin-to-skin contact. Mulder feels as if her sorrows have migrated to his body, burrowed into him, and sworn to stay.

“I haven’t had my…” she sniffles, the fear coming back to her again. “I haven’t had my period since I was returned. That’s abnormal for me.”

He pulls her in closer, like they could become one if he tried hard enough. He doesn’t want to say it, but he knows he has to. 

”Are you pregnant?”

He feels her eyelashes flutter closed against his shoulder. “No, I even got a professional test done. That’s the worst part, something being wrong and having no explanation.”

“I know how you feel.”

She exhales. Her stomach fills then flattens against him. 

“Is there anything I can do?” he asks, knowing that nothing would ever be enough. 

“I think that maybe…” her voice falls quieter. “I think that I should take a leave of absence. While I get this all figured out.”

“Mmm-hmm.” The vibration of his voice box resonates within them both. “That sounds like a good idea.” He is as gentle as if he were speaking to a newborn baby. 

“I am really, really sorry,” she stammers, mouth against his ear.

“For what?” His breath tickles her earlobe. 

“For making you do it alone.” If she weren’t pressed to his ear, he wouldn’t be able to hear her.

“I’m not alone, Scully. You’re a part of me now. I’m carrying a miniature version of you in my head wherever I go.”

She’s crying again, a reflex tapped. 

He continues whispering into her ear. “She’s telling me that there’s a scientific explanation, that there’s no such thing as extraterrestrials, that I’m batshit crazy--” Scully laughs, Mulder smiles. “--and I have to say, she makes a very convincing argument. I’m even starting to believe her, you know, just a little bit.”

He pulls back so that he can see her face. Her brokenness glimmers off of her like a shattered mirror. He wipes her tears away with his thumbs, then looks straight into the reflecting pond of her eyes.

“You are more important to me than any dumb X-file. Even Samantha hurts less because of you.” He was hollow, and she is filling him in. He hadn’t realized that he was draining her in the process. “I want you to be happy, and I want you to be whole,” he affirms. “Whatever you need to do, I’ll support you.”

She wraps her arms around him and nods in gratitude, her nose bouncing off his cheek. She will learn to live in her body again. She will learn to live. She will learn. She will. 

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

Scully made the appropriate arrangements with Skinner and walked out of that basement office indefinitely that night. She had spent so much time pretending she was fine to save face, thinking it was the noble thing to do. That was what she was taught, how could she know any different?

She never anticipated the inner strength that comes from vouching for yourself. From deciding that you are worthy just because you are alive. From owing nothing to no one, unapologetically. She suddenly understood why her sister had always seemed brave to her, so completely okay with disregarding expectations and breaking rules. Courage breeds confidence, Missy remarked when Scully brought this up to her. All you have to do is take that initial leap of faith. 

But it would be a mistake to assume that Scully is truly free now. A person who is in total control of their life does not choose to leave a job they love, however temporary the absence may be. It’s not like something better has come along, an option that brings with it the bittersweet pang of leaving a beloved place for a new adventure. No, that’s not this--this is sacrifice on all sides. 

Her, backing away from the work that keeps her sane and the experience that has made her insane. Mulder, shouldering the blow of fruitless investigation all by himself. Another loss in his stepping stone graveyard. And what about Missy, who has uprooted her life and left the woman she loves to take care of one she shares blood with? Scully has not properly thanked her for that, she knows this. And now...what comes now?

Scully’s stomach folds in on itself. She has not felt this listless since the weeks between the FBI’s offer to join them and her med school graduation, when her heart knew what it wanted and her brain feared anyone finding out. Working yourself to the bone to get a medical degree and then shoving it aside? Her parents would think something was wrong with her. In fact, she thought that something was wrong with her then too. It was Missy who convinced her that changing your mind is the most human trait of all. What is Scully always at odds with if not her own human fallibility? 

These thoughts play through her head from her drive home to Missy’s homemade dinner to the moment she tucks herself into bed. Before her head hits her pillow, she pops open a bottle of melatonin tablets and places one on her tongue. It plunges her into dreamless sleep.

It is a relief, when she wakes up, to realize that she did not dream because this means she did not have nightmares either. Being a captive audience to your own brain gets tiring. Two nights pass this way, their days filled with waiting and research. She cracks the spine of every medical encyclopedia she has looking for clues into her condition. This is the most sensible way to move through life, she thinks, preparing for the worst so that reality will be no more heinous than the depths of your imagination. 

Mulder calls from the office each night before he leaves. She did not ask him to do this, but she is grateful that he does. Their conversations are neither deep nor long-lasting, the perfect salve for Scully’s sudden rush out of their breakneck world into relative normalcy. 

Missy is, unsurprisingly, elated that her sister is prioritizing herself. She even goes for an extra grocery run after work and stocks up on Dana’s guilty pleasures, hoping that the pattern of abstaining may be ending on all fronts. Dark chocolate covered strawberries, Greek yogurt that doesn’t say nonfat on the label, Nutter-Butters. These are things Dana loves but denies herself. Missy has never been more proud to see an empty package of Nutter-Butters in the garbage.

That is how the conversation starts. Dana is on the couch, and Missy joins her. 

“You found the Nutter-Butters. I’m glad.”

“Mmm-hmm,” Scully nods, half-paying attention, half-perusing one of her old medical textbooks. 

“I tried to pick stuff I remember us having in the house as kids. I wasn’t sure if you still liked them.”

“Oh, I do, I just usually avoid peanut butter.”

“Why?”

She looks up from the page for a moment, as if the question should answer itself. “Fattening.”

“Yeah, because that’s something you should be worried about,” Missy jests. 

“Heart disease is the number one killer of American women, and it is tightly linked to weight and diet,” Scully says matter-of-factly. 

Missy reaches over and lifts the textbook out of her sister’s lap. “That’s enough of that.”

Scully smirks, lets her sister close the book and put it on the table. She pulls her feet onto the couch and sits cross-legged. “My test results came back, by the way.”

“What?” The textbook slams onto the table. 

“Yeah, they called a couple hours ago.” Scully rubs her eyes, sleepy from reading. “I have elevated follicle-stimulating and luteinizing hormone levels, but low levels of anti-mullerian hormone.”

Missy raises her eyebrows. “What does that mean?”

“It’s consistent with the results of a menopausal woman.” She says it in her doctor voice, as if she’s speaking of a body she autopsied instead of herself. “I have an ultrasound tomorrow to count my ovarian follicles.” She sighs, her face revealing nothing. “To give an idea of whether I could still be fertile.” 

“My goodness.” Missy touches her sister’s hand. “I think that warrants a hug.”

Scully nods, and her sister pulls her in. Missy’s hugs are like a warm towel after a shower, purifying the cleansed. 

“What time is your appointment?”

“One. But you don’t have to come.”

“I’m coming, no arguments,” she insists. “I have the lunch shift tomorrow, but I can swap for the dinner one instead.”

“Okay.” Scully smiles softly, devoid of any urge to fight. She has surrendered to her fear, and in doing so, has found herself free of it.

[softnow]

paracosm [ch. i]

msr | college au | this chapter: gen | words: 1851

university of maryland, 1982. fox mulder is in love with the library girl.

this fic wouldn't exist without @o6666666 who has been the biggest cheerleader/brainstorm partner. thank u ily. also: if you go to umd, went to college in the 80s, or specifically went to umd in the 80s...sorry. we’re doing our best but we’re taking liberties here, folks. tagging @today-in-fic. 

ao3.

— — —

Fox Mulder is in love with the library girl.

Or, well, enamored with, at least. Smitten with. Big-time crushin’ on.

He sees her for the first time in the fiction section, kicking along a step stool and dragging a re-shelving cart, putting Dickens and Dostoevsky back where they belong. Her messy red bob is bright against the classic lit beige, and her little blue jeans make his palms itch. She’s about five-foot-nothing, has to tip-toe even with the step stool, and her thin white t-shirt tugs out of her waistband a little more each time she stretches. It’s entrancing.

So entrancing that he stands there for longer than he should, Vonnegut clutched in his fist, forgotten. Long enough for her to notice, balanced up on her stool, a book halfway to the shelf. She glances at him briefly over her shoulder, then slides the book home and looks back at him again. A slim eyebrow arches.

“Can I help you?”

Her voice is deeper than he expected, but soft. She blinks at him, eyes big behind gold wire-rims. Her face waits somewhere between expectant and impatient.

“No, uh—no,” he says, shaking his head, backing away.

She stares at him a moment longer before returning to her cart.

Boys, he says when he gets home, boys, you aren’t going to believe it. He says, I think I might be in love.

—

A week later, it’s the circulation desk.

It’s late, not quite ten. He has a history exam tomorrow, and the guys have their Dungeons & Dragons buddies over. Seven dudes shouting about wizards and dexterity checks in his living room means he can’t focus at all. So he goes to the library.

He’s not thinking about that girl—really, he’s not. Not about her fluffy bangs or her slim hips or her soft, rich voice. Not at all. He’s just looking for a place to study, that’s it. Just somewhere quiet to blow through the Renaissance and call it a night.

But she’s right there, perched on a chair behind the counter, when he walks through the door. Her sweater is dark blue and speckled, like she’s taken a bit of the night sky and wrapped it around her for warmth. She bows over a book, chin resting in her sleeve-covered palms, coppery hair falling in waves around her face.

For a moment, he considers heading straight to the third-floor reading nook, the one in the religion section that the freshmen haven’t discovered yet. If he gets started now, maybe he can be in bed by midnight.

But then he looks at the girl again. She nibbles on her bottom lip while she reads, and—well. Da Vinci’s been dead for four hundred years. He can wait a little longer.

Mulder hitches his backpack higher on his shoulder, crosses to the counter, and leans forward on his elbows. The girl looks up, chin still in her hands, that same expectant-impatient look on her face, and Jesus, this close, she has a whole sky map of freckles on her cheeks.

Whatever suave cool-guy thing he was going to say gasps and drowns in her Bora Bora-blue eyes. What comes out instead is: “Desk duty tonight. Easier to reach, huh?”

And, oh.

Real smooth. Real fuckin’ smooth. Foot, meet mouth. Earth? Feel free to open up anytime now.

The girl’s eyebrows shoot into her bangs. Then she sighs the sigh of someone who deals with dumbasses like him all the time.

“Are you ready to check out?”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t—”

She straightens in her chair, customer service-polite. “Your card, please.”

“No, I’m not—”

“Help you find something, then?”

“No, I don’t need—”

“Then what can I do for you?”

Rewind time? Let me start over?

“I just wanted—that is, I—uh. What are you reading?”

A beat. The girl stares at him. Her eyes really are breathtakingly beautiful, even when they’re sizing him up like he’s a bug that has just crawled into her soup.

“What am I reading?” she echoes, flat.

“Yeah, your, uh, your book there. Is it good?”

He can hear the clock on the wall behind her. Tick, tick, tick. Her silence stretches for so long that he starts to wonder if he wasn’t just speaking in his head.

Finally, she nods once. Curt. Up, down. “It’s fine.”

Cut your losses, kid. Walk away. But his mouth’s already off and running, the last to get the memo.

“Fine? Oh, well, fine—fine’s better than bad, right? What is it?”

She sighs again. Slides a thumb between the pages to mark her place and flips the cover shut. He reads the title upside down.

“The Principle of Relativity?” He whistles low. “Just a little light reading, huh? That’s cool. Physics is…cool.”

She blinks like a cat, slow and bored. Says, “Yeah.”

He shoves a hand through his hair and tries to smile. “I’m, uh, I’m Mulder. Fox. My first name’s…Fox. I’m just Mulder, though.”

Her strawberry mouth puckers and she nods again.

Okay, buddy. Move along.

“And you’re...?”

She tosses her book open. The cover makes a little thwap as it hits the counter. She taps the page.

“Busy.”

—

The next day, after his exam (which, after staying up until two in the morning replaying easier to reach, huh?, he’s certain he did not pass), he goes to the library.

She’s reading at the desk again, hair up in a little fountain ponytail. He thinks—though he’s not sure—that she might be trying to kill him.

“Ready to ch—oh.” Her face actually falls when she realizes it’s him. He’d laugh if she wasn’t so pretty. “You’re back.”

She has two tiny gold hoops in each ear, and he is overcome with the urge to touch them, to see if the metal is warm from her skin. He shoves his fists deep into his pockets instead.

“I wanted to apologize,” he says, “for last night. We got off on the wrong foot.”

She nods. She says, “Fine. Okay. Are you checking out this time?”

He laughs now; he can’t help it. She’s so serious. This little librarian. He doubts if she’s even twenty yet, but the prim line of her mouth is Ph.D.-stern.

“No, uh, I wanted to make it up to you.”

She folds her arms and her lips twitch into the barest hint of a smirk. “Make it up to me?”

“Yeah.” He shrugs. “I was an ass last night, but I’d like to make it up to you. What do you say? Coffee tonight, my treat?”

She cocks her head to the side, and he almost has her smiling now, he’s sure of it.

“I have class tonight.”

“After that.”

“Homework.”

“Tomorrow, then.”

She shakes her head. “Work.”

“Okay.” He rests his elbows on the counter, gives her his most winning smile. “When are you free?”

A real smirk. Just a little one, but there. “I’m not.”

“Ever?”

“Not for coffee.”

“Dinner, then. A movie?”

She bends forward, mimicking his position from the other side of the counter, her nose only inches from his. She smells like cinnamon. He can’t breathe.

“Sorry, Fox-Just-Mulder. I’m not interested.”

“Because I was an ass?”

“Because…”

“I was an ass.” He nods, smiling. “I get it. Okay. A name, then. Just tell me your name.”

She taps a finger to her lips in thought and he really wishes she wouldn’t. He’s having a hard enough time keeping his eyes above sea level as it is.

“I thought you were supposed to be making it up to me. How’s me giving you something you making it up to me?”

Oh, but the library girl is fun.

“Well, I’m trying, but you won’t let me. Figure the least I can do is call you by your name.”

“Hmm.”

She sits back again, picks some fuzz off her cardigan (green today; she’s like a little Christmas elf). Her eyes cut up to his through her lashes and dart away. She straightens a stack of paper.

At last, she says, “Dana.”

“Dana.” He grins. Dana. It’s the prettiest name he’s ever heard.

—

He learns her schedule fast. He should; he’s there every day, leaning over the counter, cataloging her various sweaters and sighs.

He learns other things, too: she only wears glasses when she reads, she likes peanut M&Ms, she blasts through books faster than any person he’s ever seen. Carl Sagan on Monday, Susan Sontag on Tuesday, Toni Morrison on Wednesday, and he starts to suspect this girl might have been a child prodigy way back when. Maybe still is.

A week into this, he asks her—Dana, are you a genius?—and she doesn’t even look at him. Just flips the page, her mouth twisted into something trying not to be a smirk.

“You know,” he continues. It’s easier to talk when she’s not looking directly at him, her eyes like hypnotists’ perfect blue gems. “If you are a genius, you should tell me your last name. For when I hear it on the radio someday, I mean. ‘Dana So-and-So wins Nobel Prize.’ So I know it’s you.”

“Why would I want you to know it’s me?”

“Why wouldn’t you?”

Her jaw twitches, but she still doesn’t look up.

“I’m just saying,” he says. “It’d be nice one day, when you cure cancer or whatever, to be able to say ‘I knew her when.’” He leans down, crowding into her space, and lowers his voice. “And to satisfy everyone’s curiosity. Why, yes, she was always that beautiful.”

She looks up then, a sharp cut through her lashes, a stern glare belied by the soft flush on her cheeks.

“Mulder,” she warns, and he likes the way she says it. Mul-der.

“Yeah?”

She holds his gaze for a moment, and he can see himself reflected in her glasses. His ridiculous grin. The flop of hair he forgot to comb this morning, too concerned with making it to the library before class.

Then she looks away, eyes down, little pink tongue darting out to wet her bottom lip. When she meets his eyes again, she is Professional Dana, all calm and poise.

“I have work to do,” she says and reaches for a stack of bookmarks on the edge of the desk. She taps them straight like a deck of cards.

He grins. “So you’re telling me I should go, then?”

She doesn’t look at him. She’s arranging pens in a cup by color now. “Mm-hmm.”

“And you won’t tell me your last name?”

Black pen, black pen, blue pen, red pen.

“You don’t need it.”

His grin widens and he leans in just a little farther. She doesn’t retreat. He likes that about her.

“If you say so,” he whispers.

She nods, curt. “I do.”

He straightens and hitches his backpack up on one shoulder.

“You’re a cruel woman, Dana,” he says. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

She rolls her eyes and he almost—almost—misses the way she smiles when he turns away: small, private, like she doesn’t even mean to be smiling at all

[peppernights]

[silhouetteofacedar]

Pearl, Ch. 6: Having and Holding

Previous Chapter - AO3 - MSR, rated E

Too much is happening too fast.

The little room is stuffy, and Mulder just called her honey, and she’s sweating beneath his palm at her back. The ugly filigree carpet beneath her feet rolls like a tide, and Scully briefly wonders if she’s going to pass out. She should have eaten more for breakfast.

The officiant, who introduced herself as Linda, is saying something to her.

“Miss Scully, do you have the license?” she prompts.

“Oh, yes, I do,” Scully replies, handing her the manila envelope she’s been unwittingly creasing in her nervous fist.

“You’ve been practicing your lines,” Mulder jokes, finally taking his hand off the small of her back. Scully misses the contact and is simultaneously relieved.

Linda glances up from her lectern to smile at him. “He’s a funny one,” she says to Scully.

“Mhm,” Scully hums stiffly, wiping her hands on her skirt for the fiftieth time today. She feels the bulge of a ring box in her pocket, and her pulse accelerates.

The officiant adjusts her glasses. “Alright, it looks like everything is in order, so we can begin,” she says, shuffling a few loose papers on the lectern. “If you have anyone joining us for the vows-“

Scully feels a pang of misplaced shame at the question, glancing down at her feet.

Mulder reaches out and takes Scully’s hand. “Just us today,” he says, giving the woman a tender smile that’s just the right amount of bashful. “We’re eloping.”

He’s an artist, Scully thinks absently, watching him work his subtle magic on the officiant. He could almost pass for lovesick.

The woman smiles back, looking touched. “Very romantic,” she enthuses, glancing between them. “Well, then let’s begin, shall we? Please face each other and join hands.”

Scully turns slowly; despite the crisp layers of fabric covering her body, she feels strangely exposed as she moves to face Mulder. She takes a deep breath and reaches out. Mulder takes her hands in his, his palms wide and warm around hers. He gives her arms the gentlest of tugs, requesting her attention.

“Hey,” he whispers. “Look at me.”

She tilts her chin up and looks into his eyes, and a whisper of peace passes her by.

“You ready?” he murmurs.

His hands anchor her, hold her in place, keep her from drifting away. “Yes,” she says through parched lips. It’s not really a lie if she wants it to be true.

Mulder gives her a soft smile, and Scully feels the room shrink around them, sucking the air out of her lungs.

“We are gathered here today to celebrate Fox and Dana, and their commitment to each other,” Linda announces, even though they’re alone in the room. “Usually at this part of the ceremony I’d say a few words, but-“

“No need,” Scully says softly. “It’s just us.”

“Right,” the woman replies. There’s an awkward silence before she clears her throat and continues. “Do you, Fox William, take this woman, Dana Katherine, to be your lawfully wedded wife? To have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health-“ Mulder squeezes Scully’s hands then, and she feels a prickle of tears in her eyes. “-until death do you part?”

Mulder must have noticed Scully’s eyes watering, because his brows furrow in concern.

“Mr. Mulder,” the officiant prompts gently.

“I-I do,” he says, almost an aside. He leans closer to Scully. “Are you alright?” he whispers.

His attention is overwhelming, like the lightest touch stinging an open wound. She nods.

“Can I offer you a handkerchief?” Linda asks.

“No, it’s fine, I have tissues,” Scully replies. She composes herself, glancing at the officiant. “You can continue.”

“Do you, Dana Katherine, take this man, Fox William, to be your lawfully wedded husband? To have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, until death do you part?”

Mulder’s right thumb circles briefly over her knuckle in a calming gesture, and Scully feels the contact go straight to her heart.

Please let this be real, just once, she prays nonsensically. “I do.”

Mulder gives her a reassuring nod, and she lets out a half breath.

“Please present the rings,” the officiant says. “I assume you have them?”

“In our respective pockets,” Mulder confirms. He reaches into his jacket and pulls out a little velvet box, snapping it open.

“Please place the ring on the third finger of Dana’s left hand, and say ‘please accept this ring as a sign of my commitment’.”

Mulder murmurs the vow as he guides the ring onto her finger; gold, with a dainty pearl and little diamonds clustered together in the center.

It’s beautiful and perfect and exactly what she would have wanted if she ever had the chance to choose, and they’re so close to doing this right. So close and yet miles off target.

This may not be a real marriage in many respects; she and Mulder will be living a truth no one can see. But for her, it would be real. Even if he never held her hands again, she has them now; and she can promise everything she has left if she wants to.

This may be her last chance; so she lifts his left hand, slides his band onto his finger, and pretends.

“By the power vested in me by the District of Columbia, I now pronounce you husband and wife,” the officiant states. “You may now seal your commitment with a kiss.”

Oh.

Scully had somehow gotten through the entire morning without realizing this moment would actually come, and she’s suddenly embarrassed. She glances at Mulder to telegraph to him it’s okay, you don’t have to, you can kiss my cheek or forehead, my lips are so dry-

But her Mulder always commits to an act, consequences be damned. He sways momentarily, as though he can sense her hesitation, then leans down and guides her closer by their clasped hands.

His lips are so soft and warm on hers, the kiss tender and familiar. He kisses her with the ease of a practiced lover, placing his mouth against hers in exactly the right way. She feels her entire body relax, pins in a lock yielding around the perfect key.

He draws back, and she returns to the heaviness of the room and the tension in her spine, clarity cutting into her.

That was no cautious, dry peck of a dutiful friend. That was the kiss of a man who knows exactly what he’s doing, and Scully immediately wants him to do it again.

If only this were real, that there was no tumor slowly pushing into her brain, that she could take this beautiful man and his pillowy lips home to her bed. Her face heats up at the thought, and she looks down at the hand clasped in his.

They’re married, but he’s not hers.

[frostbitepandaaaaa]

In A Perfect World, ch. 2

wow, sorry for the unforgivable wait on this, friends, but here it is... finally. hope you like it!

tagging @today-in-fic

PREVIEW

She looks past Fox’s shoulder as she sees the woman in question pushing through the crowd. Dana Scully is beautiful and as pale as a ghost in her bone-colored gown and has a crease between her eyebrows that tells her that, this time, Mulder’s partner would not leave him again.

Diana can’t help but laugh, just once. Had Fox sent up a warning flare that only Dana Scully could see?

Fox looks to where she is focused, confused as to her odd reaction. She watches as he catches sight of his partner shouldering past dancing couples and his face relaxes, his eyes soften, as if all is right with the world.

So, that was it, then. This woman had assumed the envious and arduous role of fire-tender. An erudite Promethesus tending to the coals of Fox Mulder’s ire, his mettle, his heart.

read it on ao3!

[mishasminion360]

Space Age Love Song, Ch. 1

A Mandalorian x O/C Fic

Warning: Language

Notes: I’ve had this idea for awhile now and decided “why the hell not?” It’s been quite some time since I’ve written a full fledged fic, but I’m going to try to remain committed and complete this one. I already have a good idea of where I want it to go, so that’s a plus. Readers, you’re in for plenty of Mando romance, fluff, angst, action, and suspense. I hope you enjoy!

He crashed into her life like a falling star. The brightest star in the cosmos.

Ch. 1: Crash Into Me

The world was always a lonelier place at night. Rural Kansas appeared much more desolate in the dark; the roads and the land seemed to stretch on forever, both leading to nothing. The whistling of the evening breeze was the only voice to be heard for miles.

A half-drunk glass of whiskey in hand, Sara craned her head skyward to gaze at the stars. At most times, it seemed, they were her only friends. At least there were plenty of them to go around.

Her shift at the Hillsboro Community Hospital had been a grueling one this evening. She had just managed to drag her weary bones home a little more than an hour ago and already the night was creeping into day. Though exhausted, she’d suddenly found herself wired the second she’d pulled into her driveway at nearly 3 a.m. Now coming up on 4 in the morning, she downed the rest of her whiskey in hopes of calming herself long enough to drop into dreamland.

She had no reason to be awake so late, or early, rather. Sara had no one to pass the wakefulness with. The last of the only family she’d ever known had vanished from her life nearly a decade ago, leaving her with nothing but an old country house in the middle of nowhere that was far too big for a solitary woman such as herself. That house and memories.

There shouldn’t be any joy in the thought of coming home to an empty house. No happiness at the thought of eating alone, sleeping alone, living alone. But, as it began to happen more frequently, Sara came to realize that this rush of adrenaline she felt upon returning to her solitary homestead night after night was from the hope that she wouldn’t be lonely for long. One night she’d come home and there’d be someone worth coming home to. Someone waiting for her.

For now, though, Sara pulled herself to her feet, blinked the stars from her eyes, and prepared to head inside where she’d climb the stairs to her room and finally sleep the sleep of the dead.

She had just yanked open the finicky screen door when she heard a peculiar thoom! Her tired eyes returned to the sky to see that it was ablaze with light. A star, like a white hot ember, arced through the night, tumbling, tumbling down. So bright. So fast. So BIG.

That is not a star, she thought.

Sara watched the object’s decent with her heart in her throat. What if it was a meteor? Or a guided missile gone astray? Should she take cover? Would there be enough time? Would it even matter? The time she could’ve spent moving was lost to an endless string of “what if’s” playing on a loop inside her head, and by the time her brain managed to squeeze a logical thought about running into the mix, the object was crashing to earth in the field behind her barn.

She felt the impact from her porch; wobbled unsteadily on her feet as a tremor passed through the ground below. She could see the glow of flames in the distance. With the threat of a wildfire from space igniting the field beyond, with her house and all its memories in danger, she sprang into action.

Sara darted inside and made a beeline for the kitchen, retrieving the fire extinguisher from under the sink. Then, opting to take the back door, she darted back out into the chilly pre-dawn and ran as fast as her legs would carry her toward what she could only assume was Fox Mulder’s wet dream.

***

So, it definitely wasn’t a star. It wasn’t a meteor or a missile either. Nothing in her wildest dreams could have prepared her for what she was seeing. It was in pieces and it was on fire, but even partially destroyed Sara could positively identify (having watched enough cheesy sci-fi movies with her gramps to do so) an alien ship when she saw one.

“What kind of Superman origin story bullshit is this?” she wondered out loud.

The flames licking at the wreckage weren’t too big, and the small extinguisher did the trick for the most part. The dented silver exterior was still smoldering in some places by the time the canister was empty. Tossing the empty red cylinder aside, she stood and stared at the UFO in a mix of wonder and fear as another round of incessant questions bombarded her brain. Should she call someone about this? Who the hell was she supposed to call anyway: the cops, a scientist, the news, or all of the above?

With a startling groan of metal and a hiss of pressurized air, a large door at the rear of the ship (or was it the front? She had no fucking clue) descended, assuming a new role as a ramp, or so it appeared. It was almost as if the ship were inviting her inside.

Sara took a moment to peer into the vessel’s dark innards, then shook her head. She’d seen enough Ridley Scott movies to know that going inside was a terrible idea. Blindly investigating a mysterious extraterrestrial ship is how people ended up dead or, at the very least, pregnant with an alien baby. She wanted no part in either one of those scenarios if she could help it.

The rationalist inside of Sara urged her not to take another step farther; practically shouted at her to turn around and run the other way. But the nurse in her wouldn’t, couldn’t allow her to abandon someone who might be aboard and may be hurt, human or...otherwise. Damn. Sometimes she felt like she’d chosen the wrong profession.

Taking a cautious step up onto the ramp, jumping a bit at the echoing of her own footsteps, Sara called out to the darkness.

“Hello? Is anyone in there?”

When she got only silence for a response, she decided to forge on ahead into the belly of the great metal beast.

“Okay, I’m coming in so please just...don’t eat me and keep your tentacles to yourself.”

The cavernous ship was as black as night. In the distance she could see lights blinking, like stars in the night guiding her way. Sara felt along the walls blindly and inched forward with small, cautious steps.

“If anyone is in here be warned. I do not like surprises and, so help me, if you jump out at me here in the dark I will punch first and ask questions later.”

As she drew closer to the flashing lights, she began to hear noise. What sounded like about five different alarms were blaring, but still nothing resembling a voice.

Suddenly, the floor seemed to rise by a foot and she stumbled at the sudden change in elevation. Her arms flailed dramatically as she desperately reached for something, anything to grab onto. Sara hit the ground hard and loud, her cry of surprise cut short as her head thumped against the cold floor.

Disoriented from the blow, she looked up and took in her surroundings with blurred vision. The alarms screamed at her from every direction, which was doing absolutely nothing to help her gradually building headache, and the lights blinked furiously in sync with the shrieking sirens. She could make out other objects now, what looked like buttons and knobs and levers and screens all illuminated by the incessant flashing of the warning lights. Damn her shit luck. Alone on this alien ship and she’d managed to stumble (literally) into the freaking cockpit. But where was the pilot?

Okay, maybe whatever had been flying this saucer never heard her, had no idea she was here. Maybe it was an unmanned craft. There was still a chance she’d make it out of this incredibly foolhardy endeavor alive. Stiffly and carefully Sara rolled onto her back, glanced up, and immediately screamed.

A face, or at least what she assumed was a face, more like a mask of some sort, peered down at her from above. Stifling another cry, she scrambled up to a sitting position and shinnied away until she felt her back hit wall. Even with that outburst, the creature didn’t appear to stir. After a few minutes of heavy breathing and vigilant observation, it didn’t appear that the alien was conscious.

Before she even realized she was doing it, Sara was on her hands and knees, creeping closer to where the sleeping being was collapsed heavily in what she figured to be the captain’s chair. Upon closer inspection, it looked more like a man than a monster. A man (or a woman) encased from head to toe in a suit of shimmering silver armor. Hell, it could have been a robot.

Through the small t-shaped visor in the dome-like helmet Sara could see no traces of a face. She had no definitive way of knowing if the spaceman was truly slumbering or just waiting for her to get close enough to grab, and for a moment she hesitated to move any closer. But when she saw the small trickle of blood leaking from beneath the helmet and onto the right pauldron, her fear instantly vanished. Definitely not a robot; a living, bleeding person. RN powers activate!

“Hey! Hey, can you hear me?” Sara gave the shiny helmet a light tap, trying to conjure a response. “Come on spaceman, spacewoman, are you with me? Wake up!”

His or her head rolled limply to the side as the blood continued to run. Unconsciousness following a vehicular (or spacecraftular) crash was never a good sign, but Sara couldn’t know for certain until she saw the source of the blood how bad the damage was. Gripping the helmet between her sweating palms she began to slide it upward carefully. Before she could even get it past the wearer’s chin, a hand reached up and wrapped around her wrist, stopping her instantly. She flinched, in surprise rather than pain; their grip was unexpectedly gentle.

“Don’t-don’t take it off,” a very male voice stammered weakly. “You can’t...”

Sara was momentarily stunned. The alien spoke perfect English, and in a voice as soft as their grasp. She shook her head to reorganize her thoughts. This situation called for the utmost professionalism. When you’re a nurse, first impressions are everything. And she wasn’t representing just herself at this moment, but potentially the entire human race.

“Sir, I...it’s going to be alright, sir. I’m a nurse. I can help you, but I’ll need to assess the injury. I need to remove your helmet in order to-“

“Please...”

Sara had entered this ship expecting to find a monster ready to frighten her. What she’d never anticipated was that the monster could be just as frightened as she was. And that’s what she heard in the spaceman’s voice: fear. He was scared. Of her. And that’s when any remaining trace of her own fear vanished. She reached down and found one of his gloved hands and squeezed it gently in her own.

“It’s okay. You’re going to be alright. I’m going to help you. You’re safe.” With her other hand she caressed one side of his helmet and tried to imagine that she were stroking his own cheek. “You’re safe.”

He seemed to relax a bit under her touch, but that may have been from the second wave of sleep overtaking him. Sara released his hand, took a step back, took a deep breath, and began mentally preparing herself for the task ahead.

Dragging a snoozing spaceman all the way to the house was not going to be an easy task, but it was one that had to be done. As a nurse, she’d be damned if she’d let a patient, even an extraterrestrial one, die on her watch.

Sara slid her arms around the limp man’s chest and began the first chore: hoisting him out of the chair.

“Welcome to Earth.”

[thewintersoldier]

THE X-FILES (1993-2018) 1.12 • "Fire"

[enigmaticxbee]

✖️✖️✖️✖️ 5x02 Redux II

The one where... Scully’s cancer is cured by putting a new chip in the back of her neck. Part 3 of 3.

Best: Scully: Then why’d you come here if you’d already made up your mind? Mulder: Because I knew you’d talk me out of it if I was making a mistake. Their love and affection for each other... throughout this episode but especially in this scene. They value each other’s opinion so highly. Arguing things out is their joint love language. Honestly, this episode’s all about the MSR for me.

Worst: I’ve never liked this meeting with Samantha. Almost 45 minutes pass and yet we seem to be coming in at the beginning of their conversation. Why wouldn’t he suspect that she’s a clone? He’s seen her clones before - both the child version and the adult. He reacts and talks to her as if he believes it’s really her. But because it’s so clearly not, I’ve never been sure what he thinks about it, or whether it matters moving forward.

❌ Flashlights

❌ Woods

❌ Slideshow

❌ Autopsy

❌ Evidence Disappears

❌ Scully Misses It

❌ Mulder Ditch

❌ Sunflower Seeds

❌ Voiceover

❌ Catch Phrase

❌ Scully is a Medical Doctor

❌ Mulder is Spooky

❌ Scuuullllaaaaayy! Muullllderrrr!

❌ Fox/Dana

✔️ Inappropriate Touching (that I am here for)

❌ Casual Scully

❌ Casual Mulder

❌ Trench Coats

✔️ Bad Tie Watch

❌ Glasses Watch

✔️ Taking! It! Personally!: Mulder & Scully

50 States: D.C. x39 (34/50)

Investigate: Together & Apart

Solve Rate: 62%

✔️ Bechdel Test

MSR: 🐝🐝🐝🐝

Goriness: 👽

Creepiness: 👽

Humor: 👽

Rewatch Thoughts:

The way they touch each other this episode... Mulder’s so gentle with her. And when she clings to his hand, not wanting to let him go, not knowing if she’ll ever see him again... My heart!

Scully telling Mulder to let her take the fall. The look on his face as he tells her he can’t do that. 😭 Scully: Mulder, if I can save you, let me. Let me at least give some meaning to what’s happened to me. I think he was almost persuaded by what she said. He trusts that she knows her own mind, wants to give her death meaning. But then f***ing Bill says that about letting her die with dignity and he knows he can’t do that to her family.

Mulder in AGONY at Scully’s bedside in the middle of the night 😭😭😭

Mulder would never throw Skinner under the bus to save himself.

Why is this FBI conference room so dimly lit? This scene is so overly dramatic.

CSM should have died here. That’s all I’ve got to say on the mytharc. Oh, and I do like that they bring Blevins back from the pilot. Love to see that continuity!

Mulder: Its the best news I could have ever heard.

I can’t decide if the fact that we don’t see Mulder and Scully find out that her cancer is in remission is a feature or a bug. On the one hand: WHY would they not show us this critical and emotionally important moment they’ve been building to for more than half a season? On the other hand: the fact that so many of these key moments happen off screen in this show and we are compelled to fill the blanks ourselves is part of what has led to the rich fanfic culture that lasts to this day in this fandom, and which I love. But still... whyyyyy?

Episode-Related Fanfic Recs:

There are SO many Redux fics on Gossamer! I don’t have any bookmarked. Please let me know if you have favorites!

Borrowed Time by @starbuck09256 - sweet little post-episode ficlet. We’re both alive.

Incrementum Ch. 11 by @lepus-arcticus - missing scene, Scully tells Mulder she’s in remission. Love both their reactions and Mrs. Scully’s.

Redux II Alternate and Two Days, Two Paths by @scullybuck - missing scenes during and after the episode. Bill gets what’s coming to him!

He Hadn’t Dared Dream of Her by @sarie-fairy - He’s so relieved she’s alive. Kisses that start on their fingers and run up their arm, eventually ending on their lips. Lovely.

In the Hospital Room by skuls - Another missing scene where Scully tells Mulder she’s in remission. So sweet.

[majorsamcarters]

[serahsanguine]

What’s Left Unsaid, Says IT All Ch, 11

What’s Left Unsaid, Says it all part 10/?

Rating; NC-17, NSFW

This Story can be Found at Ao3

pt 1, pt. 2,  pt 3, pt 4, pt 5, pt 6, pt 7, pt 8, pt 9  pt. 10

Taggin; @skullsmuldon @baronessblixen  @today-in-fic

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Notes; Thank you to my wonderful beta for helping with this chapter

p.s. finally, a new chapter is here writing with depression and writer's block is so hard

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Chapter 11: Moveing Forward?

Scully was sitting on the plane with Missy. The children had fallen asleep on both their laps happily snoozing as the world quite literally flies by. Her things had been packed and the items she really wanted  (ie the baby items) to keep had been sent off by courier. She threw most of her clothes away and the ones she really, really liked she kept and were in the cargo part of the plane.  

She slouched in the chair the overhead fluorescent lights shining down on her. Ellie drooling and mumbling on her lap snuggled into her chest. Her eyes peered out of the cabin window onto the passing clouds full of greys, white, creams, and almond colors. Her mind wandered to Mulder and in a mere few weeks how they would be living together. They had come to the agreement while she was in San Francisco that the house was certainly big enough for both of them and it would be great for him to be a prominent part in their life. He would sell his apartment and also most of his things. There were only three things he really wanted to keep, one being his Syfy collection which she knew meant a lot to him. His bed, so he had somewhere to sleep and the old style brown leather couch which had fond memories for both of them. He had given her the two weeks to get settled and in some sort of routine before he moved in, to which she was grateful. She had to look past how awkward and hard it would be being so close to him everyday all day knowing she loved him and not having that feeling returned which is entirely her fault.

She sighed and Ellie's hand gripped her top and clung to it for dear life, as if knowing her mother's eternal turmoil rip her apart. He was picking her up from the airport and helping with the twins she knew he had missed them in the last two weeks and they had wormed their way into his heart just like the first time she had laid eyes upon them.

A few hours later the twins had woken up and were playing with their toys in their double pushchair, babbling to each other in their own little code.  She passed customs with ease and Melissa was being Melissa and started flirting with the security guard, he wasn't her type but she will never learn. Scully was walking to baggage to collect their things and that was where she spotted him. His chestnut hair shining against the airport lighting, his hazel eyes shimmering green against the brown and blue eyes of swarms of people. He had the broadest of smiles on his face and she could definitely tell that he was indeed happy to see both her and the kids.

“Hey Scully.”

“Hi Mulder.”

“Did you get everything you needed to be done?” he asked so casually, it sounded a little guilty they hadn’t really spoken while she was packing the house. But it was good for her and possibly to him gave them both time to think of where their ‘Relationship’ whether that be platonic or romantic.

“Fox, can we get moving now. I would like to get home at some point tonight.” Melissa spat.

“Hello, Melissa.”

“Humm.”

She was staring at him disgustingly.

“Well, yes, in fact, I borrowed the minivan to take you all home to Scully’s then I’ll leave you to it”

“Good” Melissa walked off towards the walking ramp.

“Sorry about Missy”

“It’s ok, I understand”

“She will forgive you though it's just going to take time.”

Mulder bent down so he could see the twins face to face at their level. “How are my two favourite mini people doing?”

“Dada,” Ellie said with an enthusiastic smile and Will just looked at him and back at his toy.

“Yes, baby girl I’m here.”

Scully smiled down at them both and for a few moments her anxiety about him moving in was gone  “She’s a daddy’s girl.”

“Are you saying that Will is a Mummy’s boy?”

“Well you never know.” she said jokingly as she pushed him lightly “Come on we better get going.”

Mulder drove them to Missy’s house first and then drove Scully and the twins to her soon to be their house.

They stopped in front of the house and the long driveway the stone light up towards the front door was on.  Both kids were in the backseat giggling to themselves.

“Which one do you want me to take in?”

“Might as well please Daddy's girl” he laughed and grabbed the bags first placing them in the porch before grabbing Ellie and taking her upstairs and placing her in the crib. Scully soon followed and was taken back by what Mulder had done to the nursery.

“When? How? Jesus Mulder, you didn’t have too.”

Mulder chuckled “I’m glad you like it, I painted while you were away, I had the keys early.”

Scully placed Will in his crib and took a full slow spin around the room to really take it in. there was a jungle theme with different shades of green and blue with hand painted lions, giraffes and tigers with a crib next to it. When she spun some more the changing table sat in the middle as if separating the two halves of the room but also bringing them together.  She spun some more and saw Ellie's side of the room with pastel yellows and pinks with a huge painted light brown teddy bear.

“Honestly Mulder this is truly amazing I…….” she took a large inhale as thinking her next words  “Truly don’t know what to say”

“Don’t say anything I wanted to do something nice for them”

“Thank you”

He smiled and walked downstairs. He listened as Scully gave them some stuffed toys and put on a CD of sleepy time meditations to help calm them down and settled before falling asleep. He placed his jacket on his shoulder before watching Scully tiptoe down the stairs.

“I should get going,” he said quietly.  

“You can stay if you want and watch a film, it's still early.”

“Are you sure?” he asked in a questioning voice.

“Sit down, I'll get us a drink. Do you want a beer, tea, coffee, wine?”

“Beer would be nice.”

She grabbed the drinks and sat on the floor next to him as the furniture was going to arrive tomorrow all that was on the floor was a small rug.

“Here you go.”

“Cheers,” he took a sip before he looked at her questionably, “Wine?”

“Why not?” she laughed “before you worry I pumped earlier.”

“Oh,”  he blushed slightly embarrassed  “Shame there is no tv or DVD player Caddyshack would have been good right now.”

“Really Mulder,  Caddyshack?”

“It’s a classic.”

She laughed a full belly laugh “if you say so” She took another sip of wine already feeling the effect in her stomach after not drinking for so long it was kind of a rush.

The night went on and so did the drinks they got to talking about everything and finalizing for when he was going to move in. What time he would be popping back tomorrow to help move her furniture in. The atmosphere was light and flirty, neither one of them realizing it, but simply enjoying each other's company.

Scully reached for the last bit of wine in her glass but accidentally knocked it over. Mulder jumped up, "stay there, I will get a towel" as he headed into the kitchen. He was back in an instant, kneeling beside her wiping up the small amount of wine. "Good thing it missed the rug, huh? That's all we needed was the babies getting drunk while crawling around on the floor."

"Mulder that's not even a thing!" She replied but giggled over the image in her head.

At that moment he leaned into her, pushing a bit of hair behind her ear, "it's so nice to hear you laugh, I have missed that, and other things."

"What things, Mulder?" She whispered.

At that moment Mulder raised his hands up to cup her face, his eyes moist with tears, he leaned in and gently kissed her. Scully reached up and put her hands on either side of his neck, reciprocating the kiss. Their passions deepened as their mouths parted and tongues explored, it had been so long, as both direly missed one another. His hand moved into her hair as his passion deepened then he suddenly and unexpectedly pulled away and stood up.

"Mulder, is something wrong?" Scully said breathlessly.

"I've got to go, Scully,"  as he grabbed his coat and headed to the door. "I will see you tomorrow. I just don't want to make things confusing right now, we need to think of the kids."

Scully, still sitting on the floor with tears welling up in her eyes quietly replied, "I understand Mulder, I will see you tomorrow."

At that moment he opened the door and lightly closed it behind him. Scully sat and cried quietly, not only over the fact that he left but also the fact he was back and she still loved him just as much as she did from the first time she saw him. She would fix this, she had to, he was the love of her life.