X-FILES FICTOBER 2025

Starting 2020! Search via author, day, or year. Help out by tagging the blog in your fictober fics (for fictober fics only)

[apolladay]

How many times have you caught covid?

Never (I always test for covid when sick)

Never (I sometimes test for covid)

Never (I never test for covid)

Once

Twice

3+ times

Voting ended onNov 9, 2025

[illaisland]

Defined

"Drawing a blank."

"How big is it?" 

"Five."

"The clue?"

"Love in the tongue of Tonga or New Zealand."

"Sounds like one of your videos, Mulder." 

"Ha ha... that one's in Frohike's collection, I'll have you know."

"You said five?"

"Yup!"

"Aroha."

"A–r–o–ha..."

"Oh!"

"It is!"

"What do you know about loving tongues in Tonga, Scully?"

"Mad I figured it out first?"

"No, but I'm suddenly curious about your love of Oceania."

"Navy brat."

"A cultured one."

"I like...how it's defined..."

"Aroha."

"Love as a greeting, as mercy, a way of life..."

"...connecting us all."

"......"

"Even... us?"

"Even us."

---

ao3

Love / Aroha / Aloha The force that holds together existence. And all us pals. 💜💜💜

HAPPY HALLOWEEN!!!!!!!!!! Thanks for coming along on this Fictober journey with me. I hope you had fun. Love you all.

Shout out to @laurencem for being my fictober accountabilibuddy! Shout out to all the pals for being lovely wonderful humans! 💜💜💜

Aloha - Wikipedia

If you're curious about the prompts I used, here they are:

[illaisland]

Fictober Megalist

All the fictober entries I've written in one place.

AO3 Drabble Collection Link:

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

Tumblr Links:

| 1: Murky | 2: Trunk | 3: Tang | 4: Lesson | 5: Coat | 6: Starfish | | 7: Canopy | 8: Vacant | 9: Brown | 10: Staunch | 11: Orison | | 12: Firefly | 13: Autumn/Spring | 14: Weave | 15: Lift | 16: Deer | 17: Heavy | 18: Floristic Kingdom/Phytochorion | 19: Crown | 20: Escalate | 21: Nonsense | 22: Twinkle | 23: Pierce | 24: Severe | 25: Button | 26: Bound | 27: Belt | 28: Vital/Bent/Sweep/Mad/Heel/Amuse | 29: Arctic | 30: Provision/Welcome | 31: Defined |

[leiascully]

X-Files OctoberFicFest Day 31

Today's prompt came from @laurencem, so you know it's grown and sexy under the cut.

Scully buys too much candy the first Halloween at the house in Virginia. Mulder isn't sure what she's envisioning. Maybe a pickup with a bed full of kids jouncing up their packed-dirt driveway. Maybe some kind of hay ride, organized by the local farmers. Maybe kids in little red wagons, or riding ponies, or trudging through the crisping grass in their clompy little boots. Cute, small-town stuff, except they don't live in anything approaching a town.

Whatever she imagined, it doesn't happen. They leave the porch light on all evening for nothing. Nobody knocks. Mulder doesn't even think there are kids in the neighborhood, and he's applying that term loosely. They can't even see the lights from the next house. Maybe on a clear winter night.

He knows why she did it. They haven't been in one place a long time. She's thinking of their son, who would be old enough to trick or treat now.

Mulder turns off the porch light. He picks up the bowl of candy. He holds out his other hand.

"C'mon," he says.

"Where?" she asks, but she takes his hand. He leads her upstairs.

She lets him strip her gently out of her shirt and jeans and spread her out on the bed. Scully knows what he's doing. Fortunately, sex has never failed them. He understands what a miracle that is, that despite all they've been through, this mode of communication is always available to them. He kisses the exquisite slope of her throat and feels her hunger like distant thunder.

Mulder dots her torso with M&Ms, balancing one on each pert nipple before he lips them off. There's one in her navel. He builds her ribs out of chocolate candy, nuzzling at her soft skin until she's squirming under him. He breaks open a Three Musketeers bar and trails caramel over her skin, following the sticky paths with his tongue.

He makes a meal of every morsel of her, gorging himself on her sweetness. He feasts on her until her eyes roll back in her head and she's gasping his name one syllable at a time because that's all the breath she has. She pulls him close and he gives her what she wants without making her ask: he fucks her through the mattress until there's no room in her for thoughts or memories, only sensation, only the pounding of his cock and the rough waves of pleasure. Release is reprieve. He submerges her in ecstasy, baptizes her in the Lethe of her own slickness. He makes her come until she's gone. It's all he can give her.

"I don't know what I was thinking," she whispers in his arms, after, when he's cleaned her up and helped her walk back to the bed on legs that shake. That isn't the truth. They both know it.

He kisses under her ear to make her sigh. "You always want the world to be a better place," he tells her. "I love that about you."

He thinks she falls asleep before the sorrow catches up to her. He hopes she does. Outside, there's the sound of actual thunder, and then wind, and then rain. He wraps himself around her, all the shelter he can give her.

[catharsisxf]

XF Fictober drabbles - Day 31

31. "I still love you."

He’s snuggled with Scully on the couch, watching the flames dance in the fireplace. Their daughter finally fell asleep with the promise he’d wake her as soon as Jackson arrives tomorrow morning.

“Did you ever think we’d end up here?” she sighs, dreamily.

Did he? The wife, house, kids – he never allowed himself that dream. For so long he felt unworthy of that life. Unworthy of her.

Sensing his mood shift, she cradles his face in her hands. “You know I wouldn’t change a day. I still love you, Mulder.”

He touches his forehead to hers. “Love you too, Scully.”

[catharsisxf]

XF Fictober 2025 - Days 1-31 🎃

And that's a wrap! It was super interesting (and fun!) to try to tell a story in 100 word snippets.

Thanks to everyone who liked, commented and/or reblogged!! 🥰🥰

Here's the AO3 link to all of them: MSR Drabbles

[spookysoph]

Puzzling

Mulder keeps his stash in his office, second desk drawer. It doesn’t feel good, keeping it from her, but he can’t share this. This time is just for him.

A stack of photographs, borrowed from the album she keeps under the bed but never looks at—her own secret stash. He looks through them, memorizing every detail. The last one steals his breath.

The little boy in the picture looks like him, but the expression is all her—tiny brow knitted in concentration, like he’s puzzling out some complicated equation. Their son. He holds the photograph to his aching chest.

Tagging @today-in-fic.

Find me on AO3.

[baronessblixen]

Fictober Day 31: When You Say The Words (I still love you)

Tagging @today-in-fic and @xffictober25

A short all things post-ep

~

How ridiculous, she thinks, as she drives away from Mulder’s apartment in the dawn, sneaking away as if she’s regretting what they did last night. She’s on autopilot, her brain repeating last night like a broken record. Daniel. Mulder. The couch. Touching. Kissing. Skin on skin. Fragments flicker before her mind’s eye, making it difficult to focus on anything else. What will Mulder think when he wakes up and finds her gone, only the scent of her left on his bedding?

She stops at a red light, staring straight ahead. I still love you - that’s what Daniel had said. That’s what he’d used to convince her to come back to him. Words that made her run - not just from him, but from her own feelings. She doesn’t love Daniel anymore. Maybe she never did. Just a foolish crush. That’s what Melissa had said back then. Oh, Melissa. How she misses her sister. If only she could talk to her now, ask for her advice. Though she knows what her sister would say. She knows what her sister would think about her leaving Mulder’s apartment without even a note.

The light turns green, and she steps on the gas. Thoughts of Daniel fade and are replaced by thoughts of Mulder. Of his strong, warm hands on her. His deep chuckle when she begged him to touch her. Her skin burns with the phantom memory of his fingers. Scully signals and realizes she’s doing it all wrong. She knew it the moment Daniel said he still loved her. Because her first thought had been that she’d never told Mulder how she feels. It had always been Mulder saying the words, never her. Even now, after consummating their relationship, she still hasn’t told him. No, instead she slipped out of his arms and out of his apartment.

She stops at a coffee shop and picks up two coffees and a Danish, feeling adventurous, invigorated. Back in the car, she turns around and drives back the way she came. She’s done running away.

Scully uses her key to let herself into the apartment. It’s still quiet, still dark inside. She puts the coffees and the Danish on the table, kicks off her heels, and gently pushes the half-open bedroom door. Mulder’s head comes up, his hair a mess, a hesitant smile on his face.

“I thought you’d gone home,” he says, voice heavy with sleep.

“I wanted to,” she says, and his smile falters. “I changed my mind. I got us coffee and a Danish.”

“Why?”

“It’s morning. I thought we could use some extra energy.” She smiles at him.

“I mean, why did you leave? Why did you come back?” She doesn’t think. Just this once, she wants her emotions to take the wheel. She takes off her blazer and crawls back into bed with him. He’s warm and safe; he’s perfect.

“I don’t know why I left,” she says quietly. “Fear, I think. But I know why I came back.”

“Are you going to share your findings with me, Agent Scully?”

“I love you,” she says with a small shrug. His face brightens, and she wonders why she ever thought this would be difficult. It’s the easiest thing in the world.

[agirlcallednarelle]

Fictober Day 31 prompt: 'I still love you'

Set during season 11, or after.

Tagging @today-in-fic and @xffictober25 - thank you!

Her pace quickens to the joyful squeal of children, affixing her cat ears to accompany her hastily drawn eyeliner-whiskers. Scully hates being late. She hates even more letting down the children at her old hospital where she’s volunteered to help with trick or treating. Hoping Mulder made it on time, hoping the lingering autopsy stench only adds to her Halloween vibe, she rounds the corner to the Nurses’ station at the paediatric ward.

A zombie stands dead still, encircled by a crowd of enthralled children. Blood drips from his mouth, and mottled skin hangs off the side of his face. His eyes are glazed and milky, sitting in blackened sockets. Every so often, a child will work up the nerve to jab him. Or wave their hand in front of his face. Or try to take candy from the pail he’s holding. In turn, and just as sporadically, the zombie will shout, or moan, or tickle them, or chase them around the desk shouting ‘braaaains!’, to their delighted screams.

The zombie catches her eye and ambles over, his left arm hanging limp by his side.

‘Well, well, well,’ he says. ‘Looks like the cat’s been dragged in.’

Mulder leans over and kisses her. It’s a slow and relaxed: these days there’s no need to rush anything. She peels liquid latex off her as he pulls away.

‘Oops,’ he says. ‘Sorry. My cheek got stuck to your face.’

‘Never mind,’ she says through a cheshire grin. ‘I still love you.’

‘Hmmmm. I seem to remember the undead got you all hot and bothered at the turn of the century too.’

‘It was more the rush of saving my man.’ She runs her fingers through his fair playfully. ‘He’s so pretty, you see. Even when his cheek falls off.’

‘Will you still need me, will you still feed me, when I’m flesh and gore?’ He sings, pulling her in for a lazy walz to McCartney. She giggles, trying to stick the latex back on his face but it stays stubbornly on her fingers. Mulder leans in for another quick kiss before turning back to his patient audience. ‘Come on, Macavity, we’ve got candy duty.’

[alienbaby-babymama]

"Entrapment"

Chapter 31: "I still love you"

Rating: PG-13

“As usual, your instincts were correct to question the mysterious rash along the female’s hairline.”

“So it wasn’t a post-mortem reaction to a recent hair-dye as Dr. Jackson suggested?”

Scully shook her head in the negative. “As soon as I saw it, I suspected some kind of poisoning.”

“Poisoning? Through her scalp?”

Mulder picks up the case file to review, wondering where he missed the annotation about the victim ingesting a liquid or food. He thought during Dr. Jackson’s initial evaluation, there wasn’t anything to note as far as stomach contents.

“Certainly, she was found dead in the shower, wasn’t she?”

Mulder nodded his head in the affirmative, “Dr. Jackson suggested a cardiac event was a possible cause. But with her being so young and having no previous cardiac history, I thought that theory to be a little suspicious.”

“Leave-in conditioner, applied by someone who maybe does her hair? The victim didn’t apply it herself, otherwise there would be trace of it on her hands. But there isn’t. Whoever did, wore gloves.” Scully pointed out.

“Huh…” Mulder stood there amazed how humans conjure means to eradicate one another.

“So? What kind of poison are we looking for?”

“Nicotine. According to her toxicology report—“ Scully starts.

“Wait, wait, wait a minute—HOW were you able to get a toxicology report so quickly? Dr. Jackson said they wouldn’t have results back for at least a month due to being backed up.”

Scully smirks at him. “Seriously? All I had to do was walk in there, bat my eyes at the lab tech and presto! Instant toxicology report!”

Mulder’s shocked face morphs into one that reads he should have known better, “Ahhh, you used your feminine wiles to get this report.” Mulder tapped his two fingers against the side of her hip in jest.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about Agent.” Scully feigned indifference and moved to the other side of the table, preparing her protective wear, gloves, mask and goggles, to sew the victim back up for release.

“That’s okay, I still love you…even if you flirted with another guy to get what you wanted.”

Scully clicks her tongue at him, she threads her needle and begins sewing.

“To be honest, I’d do it to.” Mulder leans closer watching Scully work.

“I can see it now. You’d be such a whore, Mulder.” She looks up at him, her goggles catching the overhead florescent lighting. He can’t see it, but she’s smiling at him under her mask.

“A slut for stats.” He volleys.

“A concubine for conclusions.”

“A prostitute for payoff.”

They fall into giggles at how silly they’re behaving.

After Mulder catches his breath, he really looks at Scully as she sews away. Even after working with her for endless hours, he still stunned by her beauty—not only in physicality, but her mind. Just now, as she sparred with him, his heart lurched to do this with her every day knowing he no longer could due to their current circumstances.

“I guess I’ll just take this up to Howard, let him know we’re looking for a significant amount of nicotine that can be mixed with leave-in conditioner.”

Scully hums in acknowledgement, lost in her element.

“Will you be around for dinner? Or are you expected on a flight back tonight?”

Scully takes the surgical scissors and cuts the excess thread. “Unsure, that’s Skinner’s call. He’s the one that made this arrangement.”

Speaking of, Walter Skinner walks into the lab holding a mask over his face.

“Agents.” He acknowledges. “When you’re all through here, I’d like to see you both in my office.” He turns and leaves.

“What do you think that was about,” Mulder asked.

Scully shrugged her shoulders. “Go meet with Howard. I want to freshen up anyway. Meet you in front of Kim’s desk?”

“Sure thing, Scully.”

Mulder heads out.

******************************************

“I appreciate you being readily available to assist us with this case, Agent Scully. Seems like your expertise has led to two possible subjects which Howard and his team are out performing arrests as we speak.”

“Of course, Sir. Thank you for the opportunity.”

“Her expertise is invaluable, Sir. So invaluable that we should consider having her return here full-time.” Mulder piped up.

“Thus the reason for this meeting, Mulder, if you’d quit interrupting me.”

Both Mulder and Scully’s ears piqued. Scully’s hands tightened in her lap, while Mulder’s foot jiggled up and down at a fast rate, both thrumming with anticipation at Skinner’s news.

Skinner takes a breath before continuing.

“The X-Files has been re-opened. Effective immediately.”

Mulder jumps up out of his chair and woops loudly, his arms raised in celebration.

“And Scully??” Mulder takes a threatening step towards Skinner’s desk.

“Yes, her transfer has been approved.” Directing his next sentence to Scully, “You’ll have two weeks to have whatever belongings you’ve accumulated in Salt Lake City moved back to Georgetown. But there is still an issue with your sublet. A Mr. Melvin Frohike? Was only just recently advised he will need to vacate the premises. We have to legally give him 30 days to find alternate accommodations.”

Mulder and Scully look at each other in shock.

“Did you know this, Mulder?”

“No, not at all! He didn’t say a thing!”

“He’s been….sleeping…in my bed this whole time?! God only knows what he’s been doing in my bed! I’m going to need a new mattress!”

“Hold on, here!” Skinner barks. “You know this Frohike guy!?”

“So do you, Sir.” Mulder interjects. At Skinner’s confused look, “He’s one third of the Lone Gunmen?”

Skinner’s eye light with recognition. “Ohhh yeah. Well, how convenient for you, I guess.”

“Yes, it is.,” Mulder begins to ramble, “We can kick him out tonight. Order a new mattress before we leave, have it delivered and ready for us to use--“

“Wait a minute,” Skinner stands up behind his desk. “For you to use?’

Scully dips her head into her hands in embarrassment. Mulder basically outed them to their boss.

“I-I—I meant for Scully to use, Sir.”

“But that is not what you said, Mulder. You said ready for US to use.”

“Technicality?”

The room is silent for an undetermined amount of time. Scully tries to look anywhere but at Skinner or Mulder.

“Just—get out. Get out of my office. Go home. Whether it’s together or not, it’s not my business. Please don’t make this my business even though you’ve been making it my business since 1993. Just do your fucking jobs. I mean, no fucking on the job--Get out!!" Skinner’s bald head blushes a deep pink, he whirls away from them and strides to his floor-length windows to compose himself.

Mulder takes Scully by the arm and hauls her up out of her chair.

They quickly make their way, Mulder holding her arm, into the elevator where they fall into a fit of giggles as soon as the doors slide closed.

“I don’t know what to make of that, Mulder. I’ve never felt so many emotions all at one time.”

They bump into each other as they come out of the elevator and walk to a familiar door they haven’t seen in quite some time. Mulder pulls out his keys and unlocks the door. He holds it open so she can walk through.

“Nice to know they didn’t change the locks on me.”

Scully flips the switch on the wall to turn the light on. They both look around. The office is virtually unchanged. They both sag into each other’s side, taking it all in.

Mulder turns, taking her hands into his.

“Welcome home, Scully.”

Her eyes well with tears, thinking of all they’ve been through to get to this moment. She goes up on her tip toes and kisses him softly, languidly.

She pulls away reluctantly, her arms threading around his neck. Her sweet breath dances over his succulent lips.

“It’s good to be home.”

@today-in-fic @xffictober25

[leiascully]

X-Files OctoberFicFest Day 30: Vacant

Today I'm using a prompt from @inktober

Her eyes are empty windows. When he looks into them, he has a fractured view of a burned-out factory: her soul, torn down to the studs. There's nobody home, not so much as a ghost.

That's what Pfaster does to her. He remembers the last time. Not that night — she was crying then, and he wrapped her in his arms — but the next day. She met him for breakfast off the hotel lobby, carrying herself so carefully. He knew where all her bruises were. He'd seen them at the hospital. She had clutched his hand, not letting go, even as the nurses had coaxed her to remove most of her layers so they could document her injuries. He got her coffee, picked all the nicest pieces of fruit out of the salad to tempt her. But she just sat in her chair across from him, staring at nothing. Vacant.

He has more options this time. He takes her home, tucks her into his bed. She says nothing. Her eyes are dry this time, but she has that same fractured focus, that hollowness in her gaze. He offers to sleep on the couch. Wordlessly, she pulls him close, until he's pressed up against her, his arm locked over her hip.

"Don't leave," she whispers, and it sounds like the sigh of wind through the cracks of a ruin.

He doesn't leave. He holds her until she comes back to herself, her soul welling up in painful sobs. He holds her as she sleeps, limp and exhausted. He'll hold her until she feels safe again, even if it takes a lifetime.

[catharsisxf]

XF Fictober drabbles - Day 30

30. puzzling

Fox Mulder is not what she expected.

Of course, she’s heard of his reputation with Violent Crimes. It was impossible to find a recent Academy graduate who hadn’t. She expected someone exceptionally brilliant but aloof – someone who underestimated her capabilities.

But his slideshow feels like he’s daring her to join him on a journey. And not just the immediate one to Oregon. She’s energized by their banter and the challenge of puzzling this case out with him.

Her smile is automatic as she walks away, feeling a pulse of anticipation.

It feels like the first step of a new adventure.

[spookysoph]

Inferno

Those early days on the road she feels like someone else, someone dangerous and wild. Endless desert, sunbaked tarmac and flea-bite motels; fucking, not lovemaking. It’s always been electric between them, but this is something new. His touch burns. He grips handfuls of her hair—cut short, box-dyed—pounding her into the wall until she can’t see straight, can’t feel anything at all except the heat, all-consuming. She hopes it burns them alive. He comes with a shuddering gasp, buries his face in her neck. His tears cool her skin, inferno reduced to embers. She wishes he would hate her.

Tagging @today-in-fic.

Find me on AO3.

[agirlcallednarelle]

Fictober Day 30 Prompt: 'Do you trust me?'

Some happy families stuff because Fictober is nearly over, and I'm sad about that.

Tagging @today-in-fic and @xffictober25 - thank you!

‘He knows you love him!’ Mulder insists. 

‘How? How could he possibly know that?’ She’s elemental, instinct clawing out of her to find her son, when it happens. His hand to his brow, uncertain and juvenile. ‘Jackson.’

Face hard, peaks of fear in the whites of his eyes, he turns but her hand is faster than his legs and she grips Mulder’s jacket, as familiar as her own skin.  

‘Come with us. We can protect you.’ Determination crowds her voice with purpose. He falters. The seconds of possibility slip by fast, where the future is still forked. ‘I have no reason to lie and every reason to keep you safe. Do you trust me?’

They sprint through clanging, intestinal tunnels, connected by their singular purpose of survival, knitting their futures together once more. She swings the car around for Mulder, who jumps in the back with gun-residue sweat. 

‘Drive, Scully,’ he begs. ‘I got him. He’s gone. But we gotta get out of here.’

Jackson’s knee hops their frenzied pulse in the corner of her eye. 

‘I can’t let you do it.’ Sullen air in the warm kitchen sours the leftover sweet cherry pie on the table. ‘Please don’t make me.’

‘We can’t make you do anything,’ Scully focuses on drying the plates. ‘We just want you to have the options you deserve.’

‘It’s too much.’ The room is crowded with the spectres of his adopted parents, arriving as they always do where any question of his future is concerned, guilt disrupting Jackson’s delicately laid trust. 

‘She’s right, you know,’ Mulder hides angst under affability. ‘Life will be much harder without a college degree.’

‘I can make it work. I can appear as a doctor, an architect. Who’s going to know?’

The optimistic, bold confidence of youth makes her tender. She lays a hand on his shoulder to bestow calm. 

‘And what’s going to happen when they realise their surgeon is no better equipped to carve a roast chicken than remove an appendix?’ Her wryness always elicits a sardonic smile. ‘Jackson, life’s already closed so many doors way too soon. Let us open a couple more for you.’

‘I can’t repay you,’ he sighs finally, ‘It’s more money than they ever had in their lifetime.’

‘It’ll be our honor,’ Mulder says. 

‘So…. college, huh?’ The whole world seems to settle in Jackson’s eye.

‘Just come back to us,’ she entreats. ’From time to time.’

She makes a shepherd’s pie for the freezer, infusing it with nourishment from generations of Scully women before her. 

Jackson is changed, with shoulders that have broadened to meet the expectation of his new responsibilities. 

He passes her the bundle wrapped in a yellow blanket. The near-constant mewling is a madeleine transporting her to the unique insanity of sleep deprivation and dawn cuddles with her own baby. That her baby now has a baby makes her dizzy. 

Not yet a week old, she has a tight grip on Scully’s freshly washed finger. Her deep eyes are serious blue, still annealing. She yawns, bored, her tiny tongue feeling the rivets of her fleshy gums, trusting that she’s safe. Scully’s chest tightens as everything inside shifts to make room for the sharp ache which she recognizes as love but experiences as pain.  

‘Say hi to Grandma,’ Jackson coos. Scully catches her breath, daring to glance at her son. 

They’ve done their best not to put expectations on him. To hold faith, to always have their door unlocked, to always have cash ready for the inevitable farewell. A gentle approximation of a family, but without the fundamental knowledge of each other’s souls that is too often taken for granted.

‘Trust me,’ he says, eyes moving from Mulder to Scully and back again as he holds their hope. His voice has grown into his frame, and he moves with the comfortable swagger of his father. ‘You guys are her grandparents. This is how it will be.’

[baronessblixen]

Fictober Day 30: Do You Trust Me?

Tagging @today-in-fic and @xffictober25

A post-ep for How The Ghost Stole Christmas.

~

With their gifts unwrapped and Mulder’s nose buried in the book she got him, Scully realizes she doesn’t want this moment to end. She pictures him as a young child, early on Christmas morning, tearing through gifts. Wonders how he’d be with children of his own. She shakes her head, refusing to go down that path now.

“Mulder, come with me to my mom’s,” she says, breaking the spell. Mulder lifts his eyes to her, blinking in surprise.

“I’ve already taken up too much of your time. Go and have fun with your family.”

“My mom invited you.” As she does every year.

“Only to be polite.”

“Mulder, do you trust me?” He puts a finger between two pages of his book and stares at her as if she’s just grown two heads.

“Of course I trust you.”

“Then trust me when I say that my mom wants you there. If we leave now, we can just about make it in time.”

“But-”

“Trust me, Mulder.”

His only answer is a sigh.

While Scully knows her mother loves Mulder dearly and has invited him over for Christmas, Thanksgiving, and countless Sunday dinners, she still feels his tension seep into her as they stand before the festively decorated front door. All her worries melt away, though, when her mother opens the door. Her smile brightens, and tears well up in her eyes. Instead of hugging her daughter, she takes Mulder into her arms, hugging him with all her might.

“I’m so glad you’re both here. Come in, come in.”

Mulder clings to Scully’s arm as they join her family and a few of her mother’s church friends for the festivities. He’s introduced as her partner, but several hours and too many iterations later, he’s turned into her boyfriend. The first time an elderly woman from church addresses him as such, he starts stuttering, trying to find the right words. Scully puts a hand on his knee, calming him.

“Just let them,” she says in a whisper. The huge smile on his face feels like another Christmas gift. For the rest of the day, he’s the best fake boyfriend she’s ever had. He’s attentive and charming with her, sweet and generous with the various kids and relatives.

“Maggie, your son-in-law is a delight. What’s his name again?” Scully hears one of the women say in the kitchen. She twists her head to catch her mother’s reaction. She’s cool as a cucumber, drying dishes, and winking at her daughter before she answers.

“His name is Fox and he’s a wonderful man.” With a deep pink blush on her face, Scully leaves the kitchen to rescue Mulder from grabby toddler hands.

“I haven’t had a Christmas this fun in years.” He’s smiling, and she wonders if he knows that one of the kids has smeared chocolate on his forehead.

“Well, from the looks of it, you might have to attend every family function from now on.” Mulder tilts his head, giving her a questioning look. “Kitchen consensus is that we’re as good as married.”

“Oh,” he says. “Oh,” he repeats and grins at her.

[alienbaby-babymama]

"Entrapment"

Chapter 30: "Do you trust me?"

Rating: PG-13

“So what was the cause of death, Jackson?” Mulder stood on the other side of the exam table from Dr. Adam Jackson, a newb pathologist at Quantico that made Mulder want to pull his hair out.

“It’s inconclusive, Agent Mulder.”

The cadaver between them had the y-incision spayed out, chest was cracked and the victim’s organs were laying in various plastic sterile containers.

“What do you mean it’s inconclusive?”

“I mean…it’s inconclusive. There could be many causes of death. Heart attack being one of them. It certainly wasn’t the blow to the head. That appeared after the victim fell and hit her head when she went down.”

“You have her file. Would a medication she was taking do this?”

“She wasn’t taking any daily medications aside from a multivitamin.”

Mulder turns away, his hands in his hair. He knows that if he keeps them there, he won’t be tempted to punch Jackson in the face. It’s times like these where he really missed Scully.

It had been seven weeks since they’d said good-bye to each other in that short-term parking lot. Just as they were about to make plans for him to come out for a weekend visit, he was pulled onto another case. A day later, the same for her.

So, for now, they are in semi-exclusive bi-coastal long-distance relationship. They kept more in touch with one another when they could—at least sending a “good-night, sleep-tight” text before one of them hit the pillow.

Mulder turns around, this time with his hands clasped behind his head. “What about this weird rash-looking thing along her hairline?” Mulder nods in the direction of the victim’s head.

“She’s a red-head, Agent Mulder. She must have been dying her hair when she fell and cracked her head open. Post-mortem shows she may have been allergic to the hair dye, thus the rash.”

“So, you got nothing.” Mulder throws his arms out to the side and rolls his eyes.

“As I said…inconclusive.”

“Yeah, yeah I fucking heard you.” Mulder whips the surgical mask off his face, turns and pushes the swinging door of the exam room open and peels the blue drape from his chest. He chucks both into the medical waste bin and stalks down the hallway.

**************************

Agent Howard was standing at the copier in the middle of the bullpen. As he hit enter to make copies, he looks up to observe. Some of his top-notch guys were huddled together going over interview notes and the murder book. A few others were on their computers doing research for their current case or on the phone making follow-up calls to witnesses.

And what was his star profiler doing?

Tossing pencils up into the ceiling tiles.

Most bounced off the tile and plunked down on his head. A few stuck. Agent Howard shakes his head wondering to himself what Agent Mulder did with all those hours working in the basement of the Hoover building. He had a mind to go check the ceiling for pencils.

Just then the sound of someone clearing their throat startled him.

“Oh! A.D. Skinner. Pleasure.” Howard reaches out to shake Skinner’s hand. “What do I owe your visit?”

Skinner stood there with his hands on his hips observing the men hard at work, and one not so hard at work.

“How’s he holding up?”

“Who? Fox?”

Skinner nods briefly, a little taken aback by the use of Mulder’s first name.

“Right now. He’s useless. But he gets his man. Gets us going in the right direction. I’m trying to keep him as far away from the morgue, however. There’s been reports that he’s being less than professional to Dr. Jackson.”

“When has Mulder ever been described as “professional”?”

“Good point.” Howard picks up his copies, tapping the lot against the top so that all pages are aligned properly.

“How’s Dr. Jackson working out? He’s new, right? Fresh out of residency?”

“From what his credentials tell us. To be honest, Sir, I don’t blame Agent Mulder for being aggressive. He believes Dr. Jackson is missing something. And I don’t think Mulder is far off thinking that.”

“Do you trust me?” Skinner turned to face Agent Howard straight on.

“Sir?” Howard blankly stared back at him.

“Never mind. I’ll find someone that will have a different perspective. Get you a jump-start on this case.”

With that, Skinner turned and headed back to the elevators that would bring him back to his office.

“Ohhhhh kay.” Agent Howard stood there shaking the weird encounter from his head.

************************      

“Good afternoon, Dr. Jackson. I expect you to have better answers than the ones you gave me yesterday.” Mulder finishes placing the mask loops behind his ears and reaches down to make sure his protective gown is tied tight.

The individual continues to work with their back facing him.

“Dr. Jackson!” Mulder comes around the table, reaching out to grab onto his shoulder and spin him towards him.

Mulder suddenly comes face to face with someone he least expected.

“Jesus, Mulder! You scared the shit outta me!” Hands reach up to take the earbuds out from under her surgical cap that hid her hair and reached down to hit “stop” on her Walkman.

“Scully?!”

She smirks at his reaction. This alone was worth the six hour flight. Mulder lunges to take her into his arms, but she immediately puts her hands up and looks over her shoulder. Though they were the only two alive in the room, there were plenty lab staff milling about.

“Not here,” she whispers.

Mulder grabs her hand and starts tugging her towards the exit.

“Mulder! What are you doing?!” She fights him off.

“Seven weeks, Scully.” He tries to give her his best puppy-dog eyes.

“No! Noooo! Don’t give me that look!” Damn, even wearing a mask over his face, she would still keel to it.

She can see his eyes crinkle in victory above his mask. He tugs her again and this time she goes with him willingly. He busts open the emergency exit door, ripping off his mask. Soon enough, Mulder has her pressed against the cinderblock wall.

He reaches up to gently remove her mask from her face and pins her by the lips. He groans into her mouth at first contact. He kisses her like a man whose found water after walking the desert for weeks.

Desperately, slowly, maddeningly, passionately.

“Muld—“ he changes the angle, deepening their kiss. For a moment, Scully forgets why she needed to stop him in the fist place. Oh, yes!

“Mulder,” she gets out between kisses, her hands brace against his chest and slightly pushes away.

“I may have found your cause of death.” She looks up at him beneath her lashes.

“Of course you have. Smart is sexy.”

“C’mon, let me show you what I’ve found.”

This time, she leads him by the hand back into the lab.

@today-in-fic @xffictober25

[future-fangirl]

Fictober25 - Day 30 - Do You Trust Me?

X-Files Fanfic @xffictober25

Rating: T

Pairing: F/M

She trusts him with her life, but trusting him with her heart is far harder.

“Do you trust me?”

Of course she does. But trusting him with this, that’s more terrifying. Her heart.

She nods, unable to speak. She can make overtures, but she tries to keep them simple. Focused on the physical. She’s known she’s attracted to him for a very long time. She’s accepted she’s in love with him only recently.

“I trust you.” She whispers.

His hand traces her cheek, fingers dusting along her uncovered freckles. A smile fills his features, as he pulls her close, cradling her against him.

“I’ve wanted this so long.”

“Really?” Her eyes water, as she thinks about the wasted years, all that time they could have spent together if they hadn’t been so afraid.

“Of course.” He appears surprised she even thought otherwise.

“I thought…” She licks her lips. “You turned me down, once.”

“I thought you just wanted…a quick fling.”

She pulls back, hurt coloring her expression. It hurts that he’d think so little of her, of her affection for him.

“Why did you think that?”

“Well, you used the word consorting, and well…I’m not really the relationship type. Not really relationship material.”

She sighed. As per usual, they had both assumed something, he had assumed she was only looking for a one night stand, and she had been terrifically hurt that he’d rejected her. Instead of communicating, they had let the hurt feelings fester.

“That wasn’t what I was thinking.” She answers. “But I don’t think you were ready. And…” She draws in a weary breath. “I don’t think I was ready either.”

She would have been ready for sex, but not for love. Sex between them was bound to be complicated, and it could have destabilized them even further. So as much as she might have been disappointed by being rejected, she knows it was the right thing. She knows her pattern, her substitution of sex for feelings, her using people to gain the validation she needs. Her codependent patterns that have played out over and over again.

“And now…”

“Now is different.” She watches the light in his eyes grow.

His fingers cup her jaw, tilting her face, and gently kiss her upturned lips. The kiss is so gentle, so tender, she is overwhelmed by emotion. She hadn’t expected their first kiss to be so soft, but it is. And it’s wonderful, a soothing balm to her aching heart.

After a moment, his eyes meet hers, and she nods, and he closes the distance, and this kiss burns bright, tasting of fire, not to burn, but to warm her. She feels the entire kiss down to her toes, and he sighs against her mouth, tongue sweeping into her mouth. She feels the kiss turn her belly to molten fire, and she wonders how a simple kiss can light her so throughly.

“God, Scully…” He gasps, and pulls her in for another kiss.

They unabashedly make out like teenagers until her lips are swollen red and his eyes are dark and dangerous. She likes them like that, but she reluctantly pulls back.

She isn’t ready for more, not after knowing how easily she can mess things up, so she stands up, and he looks at her with a smile.

“Take the bed?”

She shakes her head, not trusting herself. “I will…soon. But then you won’t be sleeping on the couch.”

“I have something to look forward to.”

“You do.” She answers, smiling radiantly.