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baronessblixen · 2 years

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So I know you don’t do ficmas but if you want to write from time to time this month I have this combo : Christmas + Sick Mulder in a fic

Love u ✨

Been meaning to write this for ages! thank you for the prompt. So Mulder isn't exactly sick but he's injured - and that's why Scully can't leave him alone and has to bring him to her mother's Christmas party! Wc: 2,187.

Tagging @today-in-fic

Christmas With The Scullys

“What is he doing here?” Frothing at the mouth, her brother Bill regards her and Mulder with narrow eyes. His bark has always been worse than his bite, but Scully tightens her grip on her partner’s bicep anyway. Today of all days, Mulder doesn’t need to deal with this. She didn’t give him any choice. It was either him accompanying her to her mother’s Christmas party, or her staying behind with him, missing family time. A cheap shot on her part, but desperate times and all.

“I couldn’t leave him on his own,” she explains. Next to her, Mulder is quiet. She can only imagine how much pain he’s in. They shouldn’t stand here longer than necessary, but Bill is still blocking the door. “Would you please let us in? Unless you want Mulder to pass out because you will have to carry him inside if he does.” Bill practically jumps out of the way and Scully leads Mulder inside, a hand on his back.

“There you are.” Her mother walks out of the kitchen, drying her hands on a towel. “Oh, Fox,” she says, touching his arm. “I heard you’re not well.” A loud snort comes from the direction of the living room. Scully rolls her eyes. Bill Jr. wouldn’t dare say anything in front of their mother, no matter how much he dislikes Mulder.

“I hit my head,” Mulder says, nevertheless smiling at her mother and shaking her hand. That, however, is not enough for her. She draws him close and gives him a bear hug. “I’ll be fine, Mrs. Scully,” he says, his voice muffled.

“Mom, Mulder needs rest,” Scully says and her mother nods, but doesn’t let go of him. “Can he- it’s too noisy down here.”

“I made up your bed.” Finally, Mulder is free. Scully sees him sway and grabs his arm. He needs to lie down and quickly. She doesn’t need him passing out and making his concussion even worse. Her fingers dig into his arm and he winces. She mouths an apology and he sighs, his shoulder bumping against her own head.

“My bed,” she says, just to clarify. She hears a clatter from behind her and doesn’t need to turn around to know that Bill is there and listening.

“With the whole family coming,” her mother explains, “there’s limited space.”

“I can sit in the car,” Mulder says, turning to Scully.

“No,” both Scully and her mom say in unison. Behind them, Bill snickers. Scully whirls around and glares at him. At least he has the audacity to blush in embarrassment.

“My bed is fine. It’s… I was just- let’s get you upstairs, Mulder.”

“Do you need any help, Dana?” Her mother asks and she shakes her head no.

“Thank you, mom. I’ve got it.” She can feel her family’s eyes on her back as she leads Mulder up the stairs. They’re walking slowly, taking every step deliberately.

“I’m sorry,” Mulder mumbles when they’re at the top. He sounds out of breath and his eyes are glassy when he looks at her.

“This isn’t your fault, Mulder.”

“Isn’t it?” She steers him towards her bedroom, momentarily distracted by the fact that he’s here. He’s been to her mother’s house before and she’s shown him all of the rooms, but this is different. He’s in her room. And he’s going to sleep in her bed. Where she will most likely sleep, too, later tonight.

“Sit there,” she says softly, pushing him towards her bed. He does as told, letting his eyes wander around her room. “How are you feeling?” She asks, helping him out of his jacket. “Does your head hurt?”

“Hmm,” he says, still taking in his surroundings. “Dizzy,” he adds.

“Stop looking around,” Scully scolds him with a smile.

“This is your room,” he says.

“I know it is.”

“It’s pretty. Ouch.” He sighs. “I really am sorry, Scully. For being here.”

“I’m glad you’re here,” she says, her voice shaky. She means every word. She knows Mulder probably doesn’t remember or only remembers half of it. He might never recall how he sustained his concussion but she does. And she can’t get the pictures out of her head. Scully takes a deep breath and focuses on Mulder, who is looking up at her with tired eyes and pouty lips.

“Next year I’ll make sure you get to spend Christmas with your family. It’s a promise. It’s my Christmas gift. I need to tell your mom, too,” he says, trying to get up. Scully stops him. “And your brother. I know he hates me.”

“Mulder, stop.” She keeps her hands on his shoulder. “I’m giving you something for your headache and then I need you to rest. I will come check on you every 30 minutes. Okay?”

“I want you to spend Christmas with your family,” he says as Scully hands him the pills and a glass of water.

“I am spending time with them. We’re at my mother’s, remember?” He nods slowly, taking the pills she gave him. “Now please lie down.”

“You don’t hate me,” he says, already sounding drowsy.

“I don’t hate you,” she assures him, leaning close to him. The combination of disinfectant and his very own Mulder scent brings tears to her eyes. Very gently she runs her fingers through his hair, making sure to stay clear of the bump on his forehead and the small, barely there cut.

“That’s good,” he mumbles, his eyes closing. “I don’t hate you either, Scully.” With that, he’s asleep. Scully watches him for another moment, covers him with a blanket, and leaves the room. She sets an alarm on her phone to check on Mulder in half an hour before she joins her family downstairs.

“But why is he here?” It’s Bill Jr. again. This time he’s lamenting to their mother and his own wife, who are both busy baking cookies. A few children smile at Scully, all red-headed and cute, with apple-round cheeks and big eyes. She smiles back at them, sticks her tongue out at little Matthew, who claps his flour-covered hands, making himself and one of his cousins sneeze. The adults don’t even notice.

“He’s here because he’s your sister’s partner.”

“Partner,” Bill grumbles.

“He is,” Scully chimes in, crossing her arms over her chest. “And he’s hurt. What was I supposed to do? Leave him all by himself?”

“Doesn’t he have his own family? Or do they not want him there either?”

“Bill Jr.!” Their mother doesn’t raise her voice often. When she does, they all know to keep their mouths shut. “Fox is a guest in our house. I want you to respect that.”

“I’m just gonna say hello to everyone else,” Scully says, needing to get away from her brother. She checks the time and stares up the stairs, worry for Mulder running through her veins. As much as she tries to focus on her family and the relatives she hasn’t seen in so long, her thoughts are on Mulder.

“Dana, there you are.” Scully stops, turning to look at one of her aunts walking towards her with a smile and a glass of eggnog in her hand. “It’s so good to see you.”

“You too, aunt Sylvia.”

“Your mother said you were coming and then Bill said we shouldn’t get our hopes up.”

“I’m here,” Scully says with a smile that doesn’t reach her eyes. Anger bubbles up inside of her like lava. “I’m, um, my work is unpredictable sometimes.”

“That’s what your mother said, too, dear. I’m glad you’re here. And I hear you brought your partner?” Her aunt’s face lights up. Another aunt, who must have heard the word partner, saunters over, followed by more and more nosy relatives.

“I did,” she says, trying to bring some distance between herself and the swarming crowd. “He hurt himself and couldn’t stay on his own.”

“When are we going to meet him?” Someone, who Scully assumes is one of her mother’s neighbors, wants to know.

“Tomorrow,” she says. “He should be better tomorrow.” That’s her hope anyway. If not, they might have to go back to the ER. “I should actually go check up on him. Excuse me.” A sigh escapes her as she walks away, the chatter growing quieter. She loves her family and she loves the noise. But right now, she wants to be with Mulder, make sure he’s okay.

“You really don’t want to spend time with us, do you?” Bill is waiting for her in front of her bedroom, looking just like he did back when they were teenagers and he didn’t approve of something she was doing. Which was all the time. Back then, he might have intimidated her from time to time, but not anymore.

“What are you doing?” She asks him. The door to the bedroom is open and she catches a glimpse of Mulder, still blissfully asleep.

“Is he that important to you?”

“Yes.” She doesn’t have to think about it. The word is out before Bill has even closed his mouth. He’s staring at her as if she were a riddle he has to solve before he can keep going.

“What is it about him? Why does he have to be here?”

“What would you say if someone – if I – asked you that about Tara?” Bill recoils as if she just slapped him.

“Don’t compare my wife to that- to him. Is he that important to you?” His voice softens slightly and she looks up at him, seeing conflict in his face. He’s just a big brother, looking out for his baby sister. Her mood softens and her shoulders sag in defeat.

“He is,” she says, admitting it to him – and to herself. “He’s important to me, Bill. And more than that, he needed someone tonight. He- do you know how he got his concussion? He was protecting people, Bill. Thanks to Mulder people got to go home and be with their families tonight because he didn’t care for his own well-being, only theirs. That’s who he is.”

“I didn’t know,” Billy says, shuffling his feet and clearing his throat. “Maybe… maybe I can be nice to him while he’s here. It’s Christmas after all.”

“Thank you, Bill.” They hug each other, Scully smiling against his shoulder. “I missed you, you know.”

“Well, whose fault is it we hardly ever see each other?” She glares at him and he nods in apology. “You’re right, you’re right. I’m glad you could make it, Dana. Even if that guy is here with you.”

“That guy has a name.”

“He’s gonna be that guy to me,” Bill says and the siblings smile at each other.

“I’ll be down in a second. I’m just going to check on Mulder.” She waits until Bill has gone back downstairs to enter her bedroom. Calm overtakes her seeing Mulder there. In her bed. That’s something they will have to deal with later. For now, she sits by his side, gently shaking his shoulder. His eyes open and he cracks a smile.

“Was wondering when you’d show up,” Mulder says.

“How are you feeling?”

“Tired. My head is killing me.”

“It’s gonna hurt for a while.”

“Worth it,” he says, yawning.

“You could have died out there, Mulder,” she says quietly.

“Better me than you and a dozen other people.”

“Not better for me,” she says, touching his cheek. There’s the slightest hint of stubble there and it gives her goosebumps. “Don’t do something this reckless again, okay?”

“I’d promise, but…” He grins at her. No, he can’t promise her that. If he did, he’d be lying. They both know that. Her hand is still on his cheek, her thumb caressing him. Seeing him here, she’s reluctant to leave his side.

“I think you told Bill you’d be right down.”

“I- what?” Her fingers still on his face. “Did you hear us fight?”

“You and Bill weren’t exactly quiet, Scully. And by the way, you’re important to me, too. Very important.” The smile slips from his face and is replaced by an earnest look. With Scully too shocked to reply, Mulder just keeps going. “I know you didn’t mean for me to overhear it. I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but I just wanted you to know. This is not the drugs talking, by the way.” His grin returns and she can’t help herself but smile back.

“Let me be the judge of that,” she whispers. “Now go back to sleep. I will check on you in half an hour.”

“Make it an hour.”

“Mulder.”

“Scully, go spend time with your family. I’ll be fine. How am I supposed to rest if you wake me up every five minutes?”

“An hour. Not one minute longer.”

“That’s my Scully.” He closes his eyes and Scully leans forward, pressing a kiss to his forehead.

“Sleep well,” she whispers.

She’s almost to the door when Mulder says, “hey Scully?” She turns to him, leaning against the door frame. “Is there mistletoe downstairs?”

“You will have to find that out for yourself tomorrow,” she says, grinning.

“Can’t wait.”

And neither can she.

#i was determined to finish this today #i hope it doesn't feel rushed #i wanted to write more christmas fic #but life's life #msr #xf fanfic #my writing #my fic

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steveshairychest · 2 years

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here's a part 2 to the steddie fantasy au post :3

The prince isn't like anything Eddie imagined.

He knows Steve watches him perform, he can feel his eyes follow him around the market as he sings to little old ladies and plays songs for the young kids to dance to. No one knows why the prince is never allowed to leave the castle. Eddie can't recall a single time he's seen Steve anywhere but in his window, smiling down at Eddie.

That's what had prompted his first visit, curiosity.

He hadn't meant to shift out of his cat form, hadn't even meant to step off the windowsill, but he was admittedly a little distracted by a shirtless, dishevelled Steve, his voice still raspy from sleep as he ushered Eddie into his room and called him a 'pretty little thing.' He'd been distracted. He hadn’t noticed Steve's closeness, his hand suddenly reaching out to touch him had surprised Eddie and he'd lost control, he'd poofed; that's what his uncle called it.

No one has ever seen him poof. He's usually so careful. His uncle had lectured him about it his whole life. "People are afraid of the unknown, Eddie. Protect yourself. Be careful." He expected Steve to send the guards after him, to have him caged and prodded by the castle witch, but he never did. A week passed by and Steve still sat at his window everyday and watched Eddie perform.

Sometimes he waves shyly, sometimes he just sits there and smiles that secret smile of his, like he's saying, "I see you."

The second time he goes to see Steve, Eddie sits quietly on his windowsill, his paws a little sore from scaling the tower wall, his tail flicking back and forth as he watches the way Steve writhes in his sleep, his face scrunched up and his hands fisted in his sheets as he cries out for his mother, it's an awful, broken sound.

Eddie knows the story of the Queen's death, he'd been the same age as Steve when it happened, he knows that the young prince had watched his mother's blood spill as a king from a rival country cut her throat at the annual peace treaty, the blood had sprayed all over Steve and his father. Eddie had watched the whole thing from a windowsill high on the palace wall. He'd screamed so loud he poofed and fell from the window, landing in the garden below. His uncle had held him as he mourned the Queen.

A part of him wanted to curl up next to Steve, to comfort the prince and wipe his tears, to sit on his chest and purr, something that he did for his uncle when he couldn't sleep. Wayne couldn't shift anymore, his bones were to old and weak, Eddie's purrs and soft fur are the only things to bring him comfort. He aches to do the same for Steve.

Eddie sits on the windowsill until he sees the sun start to rise, until he hears the sounds of the town waking and the birds calling. When Steve groans sleepily and rubs at his face, a sign he's waking up, Eddie quietly creeps back down the castle wall and goes home.

#sorry i havent been active today i was determination to finish reading this book i started last weem #i did #its so good #anyways #steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #stranger things #st4 vol2 #steveddie #fantasy steddie

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