Life is back, jam-packed with M&Ms, Scully family shenanigans, terrible things, and wonderous ones … this series picks up maybe two weeks to a month after series three finished …
Sorry for the delay … life happens … hope you enjoy :)
First series … Second series … Third series
@today-in-fic
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“How close to home are you?”
“About ten minutes but at my rate of anger, I could make it there in four if I ran.”
Scully, baby strapped to her chest, paper plate of apples resting on his sleeping noggin as she read paperwork, “do you need to go to the shooting range before you get here? Take out some aggression on paper bad guys and ballistic foam?”
Mulder, for his part, was sitting in summer traffic, sweltering in the heat, Jeep air turned off to save gas given his empty light came on 24 miles ago and panic not yet overtaking anger at sullen, bitching temporary agents who told him, the ballsy pair they were, that they didn’t think a job in the basement would lead to anything but a dead end.
“I do not need the shooting range but I do need a hefty glass of something cold and to hold the kid for a few minutes. You, too, if available, but at least the kid.”
He’s quite used to dreaming about Scully. Her lips on his, her body under his, on top of his, in the office, in the car, in one of their many motels. He dreams about cuddling her on his couch, gathering her up in an exuberant hug and swinging her around when she tells him it’s a miracle, I’m pregnant-
Okay, so sometimes his imagination gets carried away. The point: he wants the whole nine yards with his beautiful, logical FBI partner slash best friend. He decided a long time ago that the second she gives the signal, he’ll snap up whatever she’s willing to offer him. He hopes it will be everything.
It’s been surprisingly easy to be patient. He knows he can be reckless, uncaring of regulations and timing and all those little things that can make or break the kind of lifelong relationship he wants with Scully. All the little things that he knows she’ll take into account before giving him an opening or - God help him - making a move herself.
It takes one morning waking up with her in his arms, her small frame bundled in his shirt, for his patience to rapidly disintegrate.
this list | msr | s7, established relationship | (domestic) fluff | 1.2k words | pg-13 | ao3 link
prompt 14: “you better leave now.”
tagging: @today-in-fic @xffictober
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When he wakes, it’s to the gentle vibrations of Scully snoring on top of him.
The covers are pulled up to his neck, over her head rested just there on his chest. All of her save for a single strand of hair is tucked safely beneath the sheets, her small hand curling around his ribs and her leg pinning both of his to the bed.
Outside, the sky peeking through her heavy curtains is the kind of vibrant blue that coaxes you to lay beneath it, staring up into the bright vastness until it swallows you whole.
Inside, though, Mulder’s got the only person that matters snuggled up against him. The truth, the answer, his very own Bonnie Parker, Andromeda, Boudiccea, Lois Lane. The whole world condensed down into one tiny frame, earth and sea and mystery, ever-changing and mischievous. A force of nature, mumbling faintly in her sleep.
He’d rather be laying beneath her than any sky, any day.
Your writing always makes me feel so GOOD! Can you do something with the unremarkable house (good times) and red/yellow leaves and wood smoke and holding and kissing and stuff?
I wish I had a fireplace tonight, anon. Here you go!
MSR. AU. PG-13. | tagging @today-in-fic | read on AO3
Chapter 27 - Embarrassments And Evil Plans
[ FM ]
It’s not like I planned it or anything, but on the same day next week, I find myself back outside, walking the streets of Plymouth. Last weekend, snow has finally fallen but it had melted right away, leaving an ugly brown slush in the streets and pools of water on the floors. Somehow, I end up in front of the only Starbucks in town, oh what a coincidence.
I enter the coffee shop a little too exuberant for the wet floor and my dress shoes, so before I can catch myself, I slip in the puddle and fall face first to the floor. It knocks the air right out of me, stupid snow!
“Well well… isn’t it a nice surprise to have a man fall at your feet, in a Starbucks of all places.” I recognize the teasing voice even without looking up, my face burning with embarrassment. When I do look up, I’m faced with a smirking Scully waiting in line for her weekly sugar fix.
“Are you okay?,” she asks between laughs after she helped me up.
“Aside from my wounded ego? Yeah, fine.” I grumble at her laughter, that’s not helping little lady.
“Sorry. Come on, I’ll buy you and your fractured ego some coffee.” We step up to the counter to the eagerly waiting barista.
“Black coffee for Bob.” she says. “Peppermint Mocha, sweet cream foam and an extra shot of espresso for Nancy.” I say.
She hands over her credit card and at the end of the counter, as we wait, she raises an eyebrow at me. “Nancy? Really? Next time, I’m choosing the undercover names!” ‘She said next time!’
“I’m curious about that sugar mixed with more sugar concoction of yours, can I get a sip?” She gives me a ‘Yeah right’ look.
“Nu-huh, you’ve proven youself to be a concoction-snob, you’re not getting a sip.”
“Ouch, there goes my recently mended fractured ego again!”
As if we’ve never been doing anything else, we walk out of Starbucks and turn to head towards the junction where we’ll have to part ways.
“You should really invest in some sensible winter boots, city boy! These are just a safety hazard!” I burn my tongue on my coffee with a hiss.
“That won’t go well with the GQ cover look I’m going for, to be honest.”
“Well, maybe you should consider modeling for Land’s End if you don’t want to kill yourself in the winter that’s about to come!”
When she almost slips herself in her high-heeled boots, I offer her my arm. “Maybe you should start by taking your own advice, being on the Vogue side of the shoe department yourself!”
“I need all the height I can get, otherwise I won’t be able to see across the Starbucks counter.” I chuckle, taking another sip, my tongue still burning.
“Sooo how has your week been so far?” She goes on to tell me stories about her kids at school and the girls, then I tell her about my new case, as much as I’m allowed to, anyway. I also tell her about how my mother, while very helpful, is slowly driving me up the wall.
Skirting the fine line between friends and flirting, we never actually talk about what we are to each other now. I’m just glad we’re on speaking terms again and enjoy her company. Also, I’d rather chew my own arm off before I put myself into the friend zone voluntarily. We don’t arrange to meet anywhere else, like on a date - that would be like pouring gasoline over the line and setting the damn thing on fire.
We part ways with a short hug and head off in different directions, the coffee and something else warming us up from the inside.
—————
[ Teena ]
Over the course of the past few weeks, I’ve seen quite an improvement happening with my son, he’s not obsessing over work anymore and he seems to be getting better. Why, I can’t say, maybe it’s therapy, maybe it’s me taking care of him, maybe it’s something entirely different, like what’s happening during his walks on Tuesdays he keeps insisting on.
Either way, I’m glad that he’s doing better, I hate seeing him hurting.
Felix and I are spending a lot of quality time together and I marvel at the amazing child he’s become, despite his history. His mother is a piece of work in itself, she’s late every single time she picks him up from school, and this week, of course she does it again.
The call from Principal Skinner comes on the landline and I happen to be the one who takes it, which is how I found out about this situation in the first place. Felix doesn’t like to talk about it and, knowing my opinion of his ex-wife, Fox avoids talking to me about her like the plague.
The weekend passes, we talk, we cook, we laugh, we reminisce about the old days and I can’t wait for Sunday evening, when Felix returns with his mother.
She sends him into the house without coming in, which is rude in its own way, so I leave the two boys to themselves and step out of the house. “Diana, a word please.”
She’s surprised to see me there and I wonder if she talks to her son at all during those weekends because if she did, I’m sure he’d mention that I’m staying at their house for a while.
“I heard that you were late for pick-up again this Friday.” The defiant look she gives me is not new, I’ve seen it a thousand times when I tell her how I feel about her parenting abilities. She doesn’t think I have a say in the matter, but I’ve raised two children and I’m fiercely protective of them as well as my grandson.
“And…?,” she has the audacity to ask.
“It’s disrespectful to your child and his needs that you don’t seem to care enough to be on time. We’d appreciate it if you made an effort to be on time from now on. Goodnight.” Not waiting for a reply, I close the door in her face. I’ve said all I had to say.
—————
[ Felix ]
“… and a partrige in a pear treeee.” We finish singing all thousand verses of The 12 days of Christmas just before the bell rings for recess, proud that we mostly got it right. It’s really hard!
Sitting in my designated spot on the teacher’s bench, I take my chance of talking to Miss Anderson alone while Miss Scully is settling yet another fight between her kids on the playground.
“Hey Miss Anderson, can I ask you a favor?”
“Sure Felix, what’s up?”
“It’s about the trip to the Chocolate Factory on the last Thursday before Christmas. My dad’s coming on it too to chaperone and I was wondering if you could maybe put him with another group? I know it’s not very nice but I don’t want him to ruin my good reputation. He’s such a dork!” The last part I stage-whisper, to the laugh of Mrs. Anderson.
“It’s not very nice, no, but I get it, it’s no fun if your parents come on school trips. I’ll see what I can do, alright?”
An idea has formed in my head since the day dad told me he’d be coming on the school trip, an evil genius idea. I hope Miss Anderson will go along with it.
Feigning nonchalance, I swing my legs, pretending that this idea just popped into my head right now. This is the most important part in my evil plan so I need to get it right.
“Soooo… maybe we could put him with the fourth grade kids? They’re randy and loud and they fight so much, I think they need someone like dad to keep them in line!” That’ll teach him not to come on school trips anymore, hee hee.
Why Miss Anderson looks at me with surprise, I have no idea, but she agrees. Yes! My evil plan has been set in motion.
a fictober hurt/comfort prompt for you if you’re interested: Scully accidentally hurts Mulder’s feelings and he tries to hide it.
Thank you so much for this prompt! It's set somewhere around "Per Manum". Tagging @today-in-fic and @xffictober2021
Wc: 1548
Fictober Day 4
All The Possibilities
Scully is the only one who's alone in the waiting room. There's no friend, no partner in the seat next to her holding her hand. She's pretending to read one of the magazines they always put out. None of them speak of complications, of problems and odds - or lack thereof. Every magazine shows healthy babies; big, round cheeks and eyes staring back at her, making her whole body ache with longing.
She gives up on the article in front of her, none of the words making sense anyway. She leaves through the magazine, trying to keep busy and distracted until it's time for her appointment. Time to implant the embryos. No matter what, in five to ten minutes her life will change. She sighs, staring at the picture on the glossy magazine. A toddler with a finger in its mouth, grinning. The shaggy auburn hair reminds her of the other part of the equation. Mulder.
Maybe it’s because he’s on her mind, but the man that’s just entered the clinic looks exactly like her partner and potential father of her hypothetical child. She swallows and squints her eyes. The closer he walks, the more he looks like Mulder. Looks like him, walks like him… smiles like him. When he sees her, his whole face lights up.
“Funny running into you here,” he says, taking her handbag from the seat next to her and sitting down. “I didn’t miss it, did I?”
“Miss what?” She asks. Some of the other couples look over at them and heat creeps into Scully’s cheeks. She’s still trying to catch up and understand how he’s here.
“The appointment. You were gone when I got back from the meeting with Skinner. I thought we were driving together.”
“What?” Her voice is low. She doesn’t understand why he’s here. She left him a note, saying she had to leave earlier because of a doctor’s appointment. No mention of when and where. Her jaw clenches painfully and she only realizes she’s making fists when her nails dig into her skin.
“Today’s the day, right?” He asks, his self-confidence slipping away with every word.
“What are you doing here?” She asks again, whispering.
“I- I thought-“ he runs a hand through his hair as if he could find his answer there. His fingers play with the handle of her handbag and his eyes roam about the room. He, too, must realize that everyone here comes in twos. That Scully is the only one who came here alone. By choice.
“I can do this on my own, Mulder,” she says. “This is why I didn’t tell you. How did you even-,” she shakes her head; it doesn’t matter how he found out. “I don’t need you here. Please just- please leave.” She sees the exact moment his heart breaks. She wants to take her words back, wants to apologize and blame it on the hormones. She does want him here. She doesn’t want to do it alone. But it’s too late. Mulder nods, biting his lip. She thinks she sees it quiver, too. When she reaches out for his hand, she misses it by a millisecond. He gets up and glances at her. She’s never seen him look like this, sadness and disappointment fighting on his face.
“I’m sorry, Mulder. I-“
“No, you’re right. Of course you are. See you at the office.” He walks off, her handbag still in his hand. Just as she’s about to call out for him, they call her name. It’s time. Mulder returns, hands her the bag. Their fingers brush briefly. His are cold. His fingers have never been cold. It’s always her. “Good luck,” he says, his voice thick with emotion. He tries to mask his pain with a smile, but she sees right through him. He doesn’t turn around again, but they need to call Scully’s name a second and third time before she’s able to go into the examination room.
She’s told to get rest, to take it easy. Does she have someone to pick her up? No, she doesn’t. Does she have someone at home to be with her, to take care of her? She’ll be fine, she says, tears stinging in her eyes. There’s a pregnant pause in the room before her doctor nods and gives her a comforting smile, patting her hand.
“It’s good to let people in. To let them help.”
Scully nods and leaves before she can start crying. She sits in her car, no longer able to keep her tears at bay. All the literature said she’d be highly emotional. As a doctor, in theory, she knew. And yet. The emotions running through her system overwhelm her. What if? What if it works? What if it doesn’t? This is why they say to bring someone. Someone you trust. Someone you love. Who loves you. She rummages through her bag, knowing there has to be a pack of tissues. Her hand comes into contact with something she doesn’t immediately recognize. She takes it out and her hand trembles. It’s a tiny plush fox that fits perfectly into the palm of her hand. It holds a small sign in its paws reading ‘Fox believes in you!’ Scully hiccups, laughs and cries. As she gently strokes the soft head, she notices it sits on a chocolate bar.
“Oh Mulder,” she whimpers, knowing what she has to do.
It doesn’t take her long to get to Mulder’s building. As she stands in front of his apartment, she thinks she should have called first. The small fox sits in her coat pocket, and she squeezes it for luck. Mulder opens the door, his eyes growing big.
“Hi,” she says. “I found your gift.” He nods, not looking at her. “Did I- Mulder, I didn’t mean to. I was- I was so surprised to see you.”
“It’s okay. I get it.” He nods again, still looking everywhere but at her. “I shouldn’t have presumed.”
“I didn’t think you’d want to-“ She realizes they never talked about it. Not his involvement, not anything. She asked him for his sperm, all clinical and detached and Mulder, with his nonchalance and wit, agreed. He asked her about the embryo transfer on a case, in between working a case and a delayed flight.
“No, I’m- It’s okay, Scully. You don’t need to baby me. I get it, really.”
“I hurt your feelings.”
“It’s okay,” he says again.
“It’s not.” She takes his hand and squeezes it. “Do you want to- we can talk about it.”
“Talk about it?”
“The possibilities,” she says with a blush. The what if’s that have been following her here to his apartment, sitting silently in the backseat of her car.
“Did it – did the transfer go well?” There’s so much hope and concern at play in both his voice and face that guilt washes over her. How could she ever doubt this? How could she ever doubt him? What cuts the deepest though, is the question how she could ever send him away, hurt him the way she did.
“It did,” she says with a shaky smile.
“You’re crying.”
“It’s normal,” she says. “It’s the hormones.”
“I know. I read the books.”
“Of course you did,” she mumbles, hiccupping a laugh.
“You need to get rest.” She glares at him. “It’s in the literature.”
“I needed to thank you for the gift. The little fox. The chocolate bar.”
“Did you like it?” He asks. The pink glow that settles in his cheeks suits him well.
She nods. “I loved it. My favorite kind of chocolate and I love foxes- plush foxes.” Now they’re wearing matching blushes on their cheeks.
“I have soup. Freshly made from the restaurant around the corner. I have chocolate, too. Ice cream. In case you’re hungry.” He’s planned this. He’s planned all of this. For her.
“Can I come in?”
“I thought I could serve it to you out here,” he says and his lips twitch upwards. “Come on.”
She follows him inside and tugs at his hand before he can disappear into the kitchen. He stops and looks at her.
“I’m sorry, Mulder.” He opens his mouth to protest. “I know I hurt you. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I was overwhelmed and I lashed out.”
For a moment he just stares at her. “Thank you,” he says silently, sounding like a small boy. “Now let’s get some food into you. I’m starving. Go sit on the couch.”
She walks into his living room; there are magazines and books on his table, as always. But they’re not his usual reading material. She recognizes the same magazine she read at the clinic and smiles. Her Mulder. She slips out of her heels and gets comfortable on his couch, wrapping herself in his warm blanket. It smells just like him, his scent calming her. She listens to his chatter, answers his questions when he asks them.
How could she have denied herself this? Denied him, too? He returns with two bowls of soup and a huge smile on his face. She thinks of the fox plushie in her pocket. ‘Fox believes in you’. I believe in you, too, she thinks, smiling back at Mulder. She believes in them, in all the possibilities.
Scully’s a kicker. She’s a kicker, a tosser, and a blanket-hogger. She snores when she’s really tired, and drools on him when they have a particular good nap before falling asleep. When she wakes up and finds that she’s been drooling, usually on his shoulder or chest, she always blushes a little and wipes her saliva off with whatever that’s handy. Typically, it’s the shirt that she’s borrowed from him, which she will start calling it mine after she wears it.
Mulder was perusing the menu, listening to Scully weigh the merits of the turkey club versus the caesar salad, when he glanced up and saw her.
He and Scully were sitting outside on the sidewalk of a cafe because it was a beautiful April day - the sun was finally shining after a week of rain and the cherry blossoms were just beginning to bloom. Earlier that morning, Mulder caught Scully looking up longingly at the clear blue sky through the windows, so he asked if she would like to get lunch with him and she surprisingly agreed.
Happy Sunday!! I’m cleaning out a closet and I came across my VHS XF episode collection. I have almost every ep, most from the original run and some from repeats, on 35 VHS tapes. As far as I know they are all still in working order. I don’t want them anymore but I hate to just toss them. If anyone is interested let me know. If you pay the shipping I will be happy to send them to a new home 😊👽🛸
I did a post-Per Manum … I’ve had the quote ‘you and I are done pretending’ in my head for awhile and finally found a way to use it … go me!
Anyways, enjoy :)
@today-in-fic
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He hugged her for what felt like forever, the light fading in the room as he heard her heart break over and over, thudding erratically against his chest, body hitching as a poorly contained sob snuck through her cracking exterior.
She had come so close to kissing him at first, lips stopping at the corner of his mouth, before they traveled over cheek to ear, “I don’t know what to do.”
Whispering back as he tightened his hold on her, “we’ll figure it out tomorrow.”
Ravenous - Fresh off a particularly brutal case, Mulder tries to finally make good on his promise to take Scully on a nice trip to the forest, only to stumble onto evidence that there may be more to a local urban legend than just rumor and superstition. NC-17
Achluophobia - Set during the Season of Secret Sex, Mulder and Scully are called in on a personal favor by Maggie Scully to investigate what appears to be a haunting. NC-17
SERIES
The After - Two years following a worldwide apocalyptic event, Scully embarks on a journey to save mankind, hopefully finding Mulder along the way. (Each chapter is provided with a link to the next chapter) WIP. NC-17.
Cancer Arc Part 1: Mint Chocolate Chip - “Sometimes 96 tennis balls on the ocean floor is just 96 tennis balls on the ocean floor.”
Cancer Arc Part 2: Love Me Tender - Fears, wants, and desperate needs.
Cancer Arc Part 3: I See You - “ How am I supposed to die with dignity and self respect, when I don’t even know who I am anymore, Mulder?”
Cancer Arc Part 4: Bubbles in the Wind - “ I should have warned her of what was to come, of what she would likely have to sacrifice in hopes of righting those wrongs.”
Color Series - Blue, Yellow, Red, Green - G-Explicit, MSR
COWRITTEN WORK
The Voicemail Series, cowritten with @kateyes224 : A pre-revival angst series, Rated: R.
Part 1 - Mulder
Part 2 - Scully
Part 3 - Mulder
And Ashes Fell From the Sky with @2moms-0fucks : A virtual Season 11, Rated: G-Explicit.
1- Past and Present
2- Ring Around the Rosy
3- A Pocket Full of Posey
4- Ashes, Ashes
5- We All Fall Down
6- Present and Future
@twoagentsmissing-presumeddead with @bohoartist : A casefile told unconventionally. (please visit the official tumblr for story in its entirety) Rated: R
DRABBLES / SHORTER FIC
Lost Bets, Paid Debts - MSR smut. Explicit
A Good Day - Post MS4. PG.
Tsunami - Post Amor Fati AU. Explicit.
Manual Labor - It’s Season 7 smut. That’s it. Explicit.
The Stability of Pain - One night, Scully deals with the grief over losing Emily and what could have been. PG
Missing Scene from The Truth - This is my attempt to fill in one of the blanks for The Truth. PG-13
The Porch Swing - The happenings on and around a porch swing at the unremarkable house. Explicit.
The Art of Grieving - Scully processes the death of her mother. Post Revival. PG
Not Today - Tempers flare between Mulder and Scully when it comes to doing the paperwork. Explicit.
8 Days, 5 Hours, 42 Minutes, and 39 Seconds - “He hated to admit it, but it took over a week for it to really sink in that she was gone. 8 days, 5 hours, 42 minutes, and 35 seconds to be exact. 36 seconds. 37.” Pre Revival. PG
Pink Glazed Donut - “He knew she was close by the way her thighs twitched beneath the grip of his hands and how her hips rocked against his face, thrusting in a greedy search for more.” NC-17
Intercoursus Iterruptus - “Her voice was dangerously low and had adopted a tone of warning as his pelvis ‘accidentally’ grazed her ass again for the third time in fifteen minutes.” NC-17
The Game - Scully, a glass of wine, and a Ouija board. PG.
Beyond My Struggle 4 - When you have been suspended, waiting out the investigation by Internal Affairs, there’s no office to go to, no time clock to punch. PG
DRABBLE PROMPTS / LIST PROMPTS
Scully’s Nightmare, G, MSR
Teasing, PG, MSR
How Long Have You Been Standing There? NC-17, MSR
You Make Me Feel Like I’m Not Good Enough. PG-13, MSR
TETHERED
She felt frayed. Like every single end of every single nerve was unravelling her. A simple request didn’t end up being quite so simple. But when he finally said yes, it might just be the one thing that could bind her back together. ~ on AO3
Tags: SMUT, Light BDSM, One the run, Spanking, angst, love, rope bondage
Rating: Explicit; Words: 9600
GRIEF IS THE PRICE WE PAY FOR LOVE
Mulder drives Scully home from the airport after they return following Emily’s funeral. She asks him to stay. ~ on AO3
Tags: Post Emily, SMUT, MSR, UST, RST, love, first time sex, oral sex, angst,
Rating: Explicit; Words: 27 000
ONE BLUE LINE
Scully does her first at home pregnancy test, after her first round of IVF, with Mulder waiting outside in her living room. What happens after the results appear? And what “inappropriate” request does Scully propose as their next step? ~ on AO3 listen Soundcloud
Tags: IVF arc, Per manum, SMUT, angst, love, first time sex
Rating: Explicit; Words: 15 800
MULDER, SCULLY AND DIANA FUCKING FOWLEY
Mulder and Scully had finally found their stride again. Their equilibrium. Their simpatico. It was too good to be true for these two. For some reason, they could never be too happy for too long. Cue a ghost from Mulder’s past to come in and fuck that shit up. ~ on AO3
Tags: From The End up to Milagro, angst, kissing, UST, RST, oral sex, love
Rating: Explicit; Words: 8000
IS IT NORMAL TO GET THIS WET?
Poor Scully is in boring meeting, driven to distraction by her sexy partner. She’s hot and horny and needs a release. ~ on AO3
Tags: SMUT, Very horny Scully, smutty, smut, shameless smut, humour, UST, RST, first time, oral sex
Rating: Explicit; Words: 7800
I found a few hours of quiet time and what better way to spend them than to revisit that beautiful thing called, “Triangle” …
It’s a standalone and I’ll be tagging @today-in-fic …
:)
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“Oh, brother.”
With that statement, she pushed herself off the bed rail and turned, click-heeling back into the hallway, running into a clump of boss and unwashed boys, “how is he?”
“He’s delusional.” Moving past them, she hit the down button on the elevator when she reached it, “he needs time, rest, and probably another CT scan, which I will schedule for him once I get downstairs.”
The four of them, following like obedient dogs, got on the elevator with her and just as the doors were closing, “damn it. I forgot my keys in there.” Recklessly flinging her arm in between twin metal deathtraps, then stepping out once they’d reopened, “why don’t you guys go and I’ll call you if anything changes?”
Not one to question her, ever, they said their goodbyes and disappeared. Once the elevator had definitely left the floor, she took a deep breath, wondering if collapse against the wall would be appropriate given the amount of stress still choking her system. Why was he always trying to kill her, inadvertently mind you, but still, every time he left his apartment, he put her in panic mode.
She really fucking hated panic mode.
Taking a minute to collect herself while staring out the window at absolutely no view at all, hospital expansion building blocking the view of what was probably a very pretty neighborhood.
Whatever.
She took her time going back to his room, companions not fluttering around her, peppering with questions, irritating her with endless regurgitation, explanation and exaltation of the exploits of her thankfully not drowned partner.
And Skinner just needed to go away in general; she’d kissed him in the elevator and now couldn’t look him in the eye given mortal embarrassment.
"Cowgirl" from the Ka(M)a/(S)utra series I am beginning.
As I wrote in the description on AO3, I genuinely don't know how many poses I will get through, considering many of them will push my anatomical studies beyond my artistic abilities (lol), but consider this the Kama Sutra with Mulder and Scully. ❤
Oh, it’s been awhile … fingers creaked as I began to type … brain hurt trying to remember words … I have forgotten how much I love to write over the last few months but I think I will begin again …
@today-in-fic
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He really should have obeyed more traffic laws getting to the house but he didn’t: thought he saw a cop, began immediately planning alternate route hairpin turns and concocted stories of plunder and raze but in the end, it was just a car with two old ladies and a penchant for drinking their coffee in a parked vehicle as opposed to speeding precariously on the highway.
Regardless, he arrived without incident and knocking on Maggie Scully’s door, fiddled with the keys in his hand until the front door opened up, “Fox. That was quick.”
Summary: Mulder catches Scully masturbating to/about him, or somehow sees that she’s really wet. She’s embarrassed, he’s amazed. (XF porn battle)
—–Chapter 2 now live😍
Notes: Origins of the “knock three times” comment from plus one. My head-canon is that this references the 1971 song “Knock Three Times” by Tony Orlando and the Dawn (if you haven’t heard the song, I’d recommend listening to it). The lyrics are almost a perfect match for MSR. Let’s call this canon adjacent. This was one of my first fics that I posted on ao3, but I added more to it, and there should be a 3rd chapter forthcoming.
tagging @today-in-fic
Chapter 1
If you look out your window tonight
Pull in the string with the note that’s attached to my heart
Read how many times I saw you
How in my silence I adored you
Only in my dreams did that wall between us come apart
Oh my darling
Knock three times on the ceiling if you want me
Twice on the pipe, if the answer is no
Oh my sweetness
Means you’ll meet me in the hallway
Twice on the pipe means you ain’t gonna show
I can hear your music playin’
I can feel your body swayin’
One floor below me you don’t even know me
I love you
—-
The sounds of trumpet and tambourine fill the car as Mulder and Scully drive back to their motel room.
“Remember this song, Scully?” Mulder asks, beating the steering wheel in time with the music. “Oh my darling, knock three times on the ceiling if you want me,” he sings, wincing at how out of tune he sounds.
“Yeah, I do,” she smiles wistfully. “The lifeguards used to play it all the time at the pool. That was a great summer. It’s a nice memory.”
It’s a rare thing to hear these stories from Scully. He likes it.
“Ahh, you’ve gone soft on me, Scully,” he smirks.
“You wish, I’ll never go soft on you,” she says gently. He pulls into the parking lot.
“I hope not,” he says as the music swells.
They get out of the car, and Mulder follows her to her motel room.
“Well, if you need anything just knock three times.” His tone is light. Mulder realizes then that he’s been flirting, trying to elicit a reaction. But allowing the space for her to rebuff him. Which he knows she will.
Scully raises an eyebrow. “I very much doubt that,” she says. “Good night, Mulder.”
“Good night, Scully.”
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