#Bill Scully POV

[randomfoggytiger]

I have a prompt idea! Any character reacting to the episode of COPS that Mulder and Scully appear on when it finally airs.

Decided to make this part of the Bill Scully POV series (on Ao3, or Part I, Part II, Part III, Part IV, and Part V.)

Charlie hadn't bothered to call or catch up since New Years; nevertheless, the phone went off an hour after Matthew's head finally hit the pillow.

"Bill, you catching the COPS episode night?"

Bill, wrist-deep in receipt sorting, was not.

"Dana and her partner are on the air." And Charlie laughed and laughed, tears mingling with his wheezes while Bill yelled "What?" and stumbled from the kitchen to the couch.

Agent Mulder. He should have known. "Catch... catch him?" Dana's partner mumbled, pointing diffidently at a sketch of.... No.

Bill's stream of consciousness must have broken a new record because Charlie was now guffawing and Tara was whispering violently from the other room. Meanwhile, his eyes remained glued to his sister's awkward mannerisms while she relayed their superior's directive.

"'Nothing to hide'?" he exploded. "Wasn't Skinner the assistant director at the--" Bill caught the word back before the moment soured over past cancers and absences. "Why's he-- why's Dana still participating in this--"

"C'mon, Mulder, do the werewolf stance again!" Loud slaps echoed through the wire: Charlie was either smacking his thigh or the wall in unbridled ecstasy. "She hid behind the EMT door, Bill, you should have seen it."

Bill, unable to contain himself after Mulder's irrepressible ramble over werewolf technicalities, bellowed, "OH, for crying OUT--"

"Bill!" Tara hissed, head shooting through the doorway. He jolted, mouthed a sorry, and miserably watched her eyebrows scrunch skywards in recognition. "Hey, isn't that Dana on the tv?"

"Always wanted to be a cop when I was younger," his brother drawled, voice touched with regret. "Just couldn't trust 'em after their behavior during my truancy period."

"And you thought Wall Street was a more honest profession?" Bill scoffed. The anger of losing a hundred-dollar sure investment-- how many years ago was that? Too many-- would burn until his dying day.

"Can it, Bill."

But Charlie said it like he used to; and they hung up friends.

***** Thanks for reading~

Enjoy!

Tagging @today-in-fic

#txf #fic #prompts #writing #mine #Bill Scully Jr. #Bill Scully POV #he's back! #Charlie Scully #X-Cops #S7 #xfiles #x-files #the x files #xf fanfic #Tara Scully #Melissa Scully #(although it was only a mention)

[lilydalexf]

Hey, there’s a great cancer arc fic that has my favorite Bill Scully I’ve ever read. It’s older and Bill is very much a believable protective older brother instead of just being an asshole. I think it had multiple POVs. Any ideas?

I've been trying to figure out which X-Files fic this because it sounds familiar. But I very annoyingly can't think of it, and searching has not helped. Sorry!

If you know what cancer arc fic anon may be looking for that has Bill Scully as a protective older brother, please let us know!

#fic mystery #xfiles fanfic #xf fanfic #anon #asks

[deathsbestgirl]

I'm sending you an advanced warning because I have a Bill Scully apologia piece coming out because he made ONE really, really good point-- despite how much I don't cosign his approach-- and I know you really, really don't like him.

😂😂 very much appreciated! i'm sure, at the very least, i'll see your point but i'm also sure i'll still hate him. it really is mostly irrational. i'm usually very good at seeing different povs and like. explaining / justifying behaviors & reasoning. but with bill i'm just like. NO. but i will probably always read about him, semi hoping something will change my mind lolllll

#asks

[baronessblixen]

I just read your Christmas fic and it's so SWEET!! Love me a redemptive, empathetic POV of Bill (where I sit with him as a character.) And Mulder overhearing and being all cheery while slooooooowly leading up to that fact is so Mulder. And Scully's little smiles and her joy around her family but her deeper concern about Mulder's health is *chef's kiss*!

Thank you so much 🥰I actually had a lot of fun writing the fic and am even thinking about writing a little sequel today cause I have something in my inbox that would work. We'll see. I'm so glad you think it's sweet! Scully loves her family, but she loves Mulder, too.

#lovely asks #i want to write more again #why aren't there enough hours in the day #i had so much fun last night

[minuete-blog]

Easter Linner and Basketball

A/N: To @pickingoutchinapatterns  Better late than never! Life happened, bookworm obsession with Dark Romance novels...but the story finally made it onto paper.  I am not sure if this truly fulfilled your prompt of Mulder attending Easter dinner during Season of Secret Sex.  I left it ambiguous since I wrote this in Bill Scully POV.

Tagging @today-in-fic @xfilesfanficexchange

Here is the first chapter.  Please read the rest here.

Prologue

I tried. I really, honest-to-God attempted to enjoy our first Easter Linner with Matthew at Mom’s house. But I guess you could say I reached my threshold of assholery when I asked, “Shouldn’t you be spending time with your own family, Mulder, instead of crashing ours?” As if we were in some twisted, comedy made-for-TV movie, all actions and side conversations at the table halted resulting in complete silence from utter shock. Everyone turned to stare at me except for Dana who had the death glare.

“That was uncalled for, Bill,” she said quietly as she looked over at Mulder with concern, her right hand gripping his left for emotional support. He wiped his mouth with a napkin with his free hand though his eyes were downcast earning everyone’s sympathies.

“What? What did I miss?” I felt some sweat forming at the nape of my neck.

“Bill, could you help me refill the punch?” Mom asked me sweetly with a polite smile on her face as she stood up from her chair and walked away from the table. Shit. I knew I was in trouble despite my confusion. I excused myself with the empty pitcher in hand, and the conversation at the table picked up again although more subdued.

“Seriously, Mom, what did I miss?” I refilled the punch as she looked at me solemnly.

“Fox’s mother recently passed away from a rare disease.” My mouth suddenly became dry.

“You didn’t care to tell me this fact before he arrived? You couldn’t disclose this information last night when you informed me you invited him?” I shook my head in disbelief.

“Everyone knew, Bill. We even talked about it while watching Matthew hunt for Easter eggs in the living room.”

“It wasn’t everyone since I didn’t hear it until now.” She grabbed the pitcher from me a little too aggressively while giving me a withering look.

“You’re not the best of company at the moment, Bill. I highly suggest you sit out from the meal and think about what you did.” I gaped at her.

“What? Mom, are you saying I’m in time out?” I asked her incredulously. I’m a fucking 39-year-old man. She squinted at me before she left the kitchen leaving me behind.

#Easter Linner and Basketball #xfeaster2019 #Bill Scully POV #season 7 #msr #better late than never

[scullysexual]

31 Days of Fictober (10/31)

one bed trope | season 5- post christmas carol | second person mulder pov | t | wc; 616 | ao3 | fictober day 10 |

@today-in-fic @xffictober2021

This Feeling Won't Last Forever.

Prompt: “Entwining your fingers, and pulling away when you realise what’s happening.”

She had all but forced you into bed with her.

Hungover, eyes reddened by either crying or lack of sleep- you weren’t sure which- she stood over the couch and nudged you out of your own light, pitiful sleep.

“Lie next to me,” she had said.

You heard the plea in her voice, the desperation across her face. You would do anything, you told her so much in the church, to help the woman you love through her grief yet there was a presence upstairs who you knew wouldn’t take lightly to yourself being found in his little sister’s bed the next morning.

“Your brother…” you began in protest but her stony gaze had cut you off.

“I’m a big girl,” she simply said.

So, perhaps against better judgement, you had followed her up the stairs.

Now you lie in the same bed.

This wasn’t new, you’ve shared beds before, under very similar circumstances such as these. Back then, however, you felt united in your grief, your fear, your isolation. Now, it seemed like Scully was battling it all alone.

You push close to her, wrapping your body around her smaller one.

“I’m here, Scully. You’re not on your own.”

She doesn’t move, nor does she make a sound. She doesn’t do anything to acknowledge what you said.

After a moment, though, her hand is placed atop of yours, where it rests against her hip. Much like she had that night in a motel room not on the map, she entwines your fingers together, a bound.

Safe ground, holding hands beneath covers, the little secret you share. You close your eyes, about to drift off, when she starts moving your hand. She pulls it lower and you become aware of the sensation of heat.

Your eyes open immediately.

You intend to pull away but maybe you rip away instead before your hand can even get a taste of what touching there is like.

“No, Scully,” you say gently. It is torture for you, knowing she wants you there but you cannot.

“At the church you said you would do anything for me.”

You close your eyes and let out a sigh. You had said that and you meant it but there were limits to even that.

“I meant that Scully, but not like this.”

Your words cause her to shrink away. You push yourself up onto your elbow.

“Not like this,” you amend. You have no intentions of pushing her away, pushing the idea away.

“You’re still drunk,” you tell her, remembering the copious amounts of wine she drank downstairs.

“If we do this I want you to be happy, doing it because you want to. Because I want to.”

She turns, perhaps to face you, but her height means she faces your chest. Abandoning her initial plan she buries her head into your chest, sniffling.

“I just want to feel something…something other than…this.”

You gather her in your arms, pulling her close.

“You will,” you say into the top of her head. “This feeling won’t last forever, you know that.” She sniffs again in response.

“It just becomes easier to handle.”

You move away slightly in order to create space, to lift up her head, to meet her teary eyes.

“I will do anything for you, Scully. Even risk angering Big Brother Bill by laying in your bed but not that, okay?” She nods a little dazed, entirely exhausted.

“But one day, when it gets easier and you ask again, I will,” you promise. She nods again, eyes beginning to close.

You kiss her forehead, hug her to your chest, entwine your fingers near her stomach were they stay for the rest of the night.

#the x-files #the x files #txf fic #xfiles fanfiction #prompt list #one bed trope #s5- post christmas carol #second person pov #t #fictober21 #fictober day 10 #scullysexualwrites #2ndpmp

[just-a-donut-who-reads]

Fandom: The X-files | Pairing: Mulder/Scully | Fluff | Christmas | POV Scully | Canon Divergent | Read on AO3

Dear Mulder,

I'll get right to it - I wish you were here. 

For one thing, everyone's paired up: Bill and Tara, Missy and Yvonne, even Mom's got her friend Christine over with her son Thomas (who is lovely by the way - he gets along great with Adam) - the point is, I could use company. I know you're working on a case, but can't it wait until after Christmas? Plus, everyone's asking after my "handsome partner" - don't let that get to your head though. 

We were telling ghost stories last night, and I think I scared everyone quite a bit with the story of how I found you on the Queen Anne… I don't expect you'd remember much from it, seeing as you were passed out in the middle of the Atlantic, but the wind roared, the skies shook and the waves raged oh so furiously that night - it was a fun story to tell! I was tempted to talk about the time we were trapped in that haunted house, especially since it was Christmas and all that, but I wanted to save it for when you were there. One, because I haven't the slightest idea what was happening to you while we were separated; two because I do feel like that one is our story to tell, you know what I mean?

Anyway, I've got to go now - Mom needs help in the kitchen and Bill is busy with the baby, so it's up to me to chop the vegetables...

Good luck with your case, Mulder

Dana Scully

P.S: if you need help, or advice with it (your case), just ask. I can't guarantee I'll have access to a lab or medical equipment, but I'll do what I can, okay?

+-+-+-+-+-+

 

Dear Fox,

You did say in your letter that I should call you that outside work, so I'm trying it out. It's definitely odd, but I'm sure I'll get used to it. Fox Fox Fox Fox Fox Fox Fox. See, I'm practicing. 

I don't know if I ever told you, but I've always liked foxes, even when I was a child. We used to have plenty in the woods near the house. Missy and Bill were always scared of them, but I loved to watch them from a tree or from behind a bush (only because mom and dad wouldn't let me get any closer) - watch the way their fur shined under the sun; the way they prowled around, weaving expertly around the trees; the way their ears would perk up, bodies go still, and the way the world around them would fade away when they sensed their prey. In a way, I guess they're like you with the paranormal - the whole world and everyone in it fades away when there's strange lights in the sky, doesn't it? 

Thank you for the photos you sent back, by the way. I showed Adam the goofy one with you and the massive teddy bear - now he wants to meet you too.

As for the one from your window, you're right, the city does look wonderful this time of year. All the snow, and the lights…

Speaking of lights, have you got a Christmas tree, Fox? I know you don't believe in God and Christmas but you do believe in Yuletide cheer, don't you? If you won't come over here, you should at least meet up with Frohike, Byers and Langly; have fun, laugh, drink. In fact, I'm having some Chardonnay right now, and I know you don't usually go in for white wines, but this one is delicious and I have it to blame for my sloppy handwriting that seems to be getting sloppier as I progress down the page. If you were here, I'd let you have a sip from my glass, even though the last time I let you have some of my pinot noir, you drained it...!

I looked over the files you sent me, and as far as I can tell, there's nothing wrong with the vegetation. It is quite verdant for winter, I'll give you that, but some species of plants shed constantly all year round instead of at one go in winter - evergreens for example. They're not uncommon. You might just be reading into it too much if you think it has anything to do with the case. This is the point where I usually tell you you're off your rocker, you say I'm too closed-minded, and we have our little back and forth dance… too bad I'm not there for it. How are you coping without me? No one to shoot down your fantastical ideas, no one to stop you from chasing after a suspect in the woods at night, no one to keep you trapped within the "confines of science"... you must be having a ball. Don't get too used to it though - I'll be back before you know it to fill our basement with plenty of (gasp) logic and reason. And some tinsel. Our office could really use some tinsel, don't you think?

I actually do know about the time you dressed up as Spock. We were down at your place, and I saw a picture collecting dust, of you in a blue shirt and pointed ears. Fox Mulder was adorable back then, what happened to him? And was that gray box you were pointing at the camera supposed to be a phaser? Point is, the Spock you were was no realer than the Spock Mr. Jenson saw on the alien ship, and I know you don’t take Scott Jenson seriously either, but I’m just saying.

Okay, I think I've had too much wine. Nothing too bad, but I've come over all giggly and I don't think I can write for much longer without saying ridiculous things - probably wisest to stop now. Don't forget to keep me updated on your case.

Stay warm, and take care.

Dana

P.S: I've sent you some taffy in the envelope - Yvonne (Missy's new girlfriend, I don't know if I clarified in my last letter) made it, and she said she'd like some feedback.

P.P.S: Since I'm calling you Fox, it only seems fair that you call me Dana.

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

Dear Fox,

Are you really coming here? God, I didn’t expect you to take me up on my offer! Everyone’s delighted of course, this’ll be the first time you’re properly joining us for Christmas… but yes, that means you will have to hold hands around the table, say grace and play nice. It’s a shame that your lead didn’t pan out, but I for one am glad Skinner’s forcing you to get out of the building unless you have a case. Knowing you, you searched every nook and cranny for anything you could find, but since you’re coming here, I’m assuming you came up empty. 

I know you wouldn’t, but Mom asked me to tell you not to bring too many bags. The house is jam-packed, what with babies and kids and pets on top of everyone’s Christmas presents… we’re going to have to share a room, too, because every guest room is taken up. Mom would probably make you share with Bill normally (which I’m sure both of you would have been very happy with) but he’s got to be with Tara because of the baby - so I guess we’re roomies, partner. Just make sure you don’t kick, because I swear to you I will kick back, no mercy.

You really didn’t have to buy presents, you know that?  It’s my mom’s house, not Buckingham Palace; you don’t have to “say thank you.” Anyhow, the gesture is appreciated, and I’m looking forward to seeing what you got me this year. You’ll be pleased to know that I have your present with me - I brought it along just in case you did come, and I guess it was worth it. 

I mentioned the bags, I mentioned the rooms, am I forgetting anything? Wait. Right. Bring some nice clothes please Fox, none of those holey jumpers with chocolate stains on them - you know about my family's Christmas dance tradition, decorate the hall, dance by the tree, take about four dozen pictures - you know the drill, I've complained to you about it a hundred times, at least. Point is, you do not want to be photographed with holes in your clothes, because those photos will go into Mom's album, and they'll stay there forever like an FBI evidence file of how Fox Mulder danced to White Christmas wearing swiss cheese instead of a jumper, and this particular evidence file will be viewed repeatedly, every single year. So again - bring some nice clothes. Oh, and if you bring that ratty blue hoodie of yours, you're not getting within 10 feet of me, forget about a dance.

Anyway, I won't waffle - I'll tell you everything once you get here. Prepare your best ghost stories… this is going to be fun!

Dana

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

Dear Fox,

I started writing this, and then realized that by the time this gets to you, you'll already be here - so this one is just for me, to keep in my journal. 

God I miss you, even more now that I know you're only a few hours away. I've missed you this whole time. Being with my family is nice, but I miss our banter; our jokes; the way you drive me crazy with your theories but always manage to make me laugh in the end. I miss your smile and your green eyes and your sunflower seeds, I miss your warmth and your comfort and your pine cologne that always makes me feel safe. 

I miss you, Fox.

The house looks lovely right now - I've always thought it looks dreary and miserable except at Christmastime - when there's candles and holly wreaths and pinecones and baubles absolutely everywhere… that's when it really comes alive. But the place has really changed for good this time - you'll see it when you're here. I'll be on the porch, waiting for you, but I'm all you'll be able to recognize. Mom ended up painting the place, adding lights, replanting the garden, the whole nine yards. It could be a different house!

Can I confess something? I want you here for the company, but I do have ulterior motives. You see, I'm hoping to catch you under the mistletoe.

Love,

Dana

P.S: In one of the letters I sent you, I said I don't know what I want. That wasn't entirely true. 

I want you.

#x files #M/S #msr #my writing #fanfic

[lotzzoforangezoutside]

111 X-Files fanfic, w/ summaries

It’s always been hard to write summaries, especially since my fics are so short to begin with. The Original Series stories are my spin on the X-File canon, base on the notion that we don’t see everything and only see what Mulder and Scully want people to see. Most of the time the fics happen within the same universe, but they’re complete fine to read as standalone stories.  AU are in the world where alien/time travel/fountain of youths/mermaids/unicorns exist, but Mulder and Scully are still very much Mulder and Scully (Notable exception here would be “D.W. Mulder, FBI”). 

Lastly, Cricket Universe is set after the revival, where William comes home, Mulder and Scully have a baby girl, Kuiper a.k.a. Cricket, and William’s BFF Michiko a.k.a. Millie. It’s written as standalone stories and not in chronological order.

So, here we go & thanks so much for reading :)

Original Series:

The Sandwich:  Post-Tooms

Thaw: Who the hell is Scott?

Their Normal Outlaw Life: a normal day for life on the run, post s9.

The Sunflower State: Post-Rain King

012194: How Mulder got his first hug. 

Lull: Post-Detour

Wait: Post-Dreamland II

A Thousand Years: Post-Millennium 

Ties: All about Mulder’s ties

Sleeping Bag 2.0: Mulder got Scully a gift. 

Mister Lonelyhearts: Post-Milagro

Minus 20: Post-Je Souhaite

Visiting Angel: a trip to the zoo!

(sequel: Animal House)

To the Radio Star: the Good O’ Blockbuster Days.

This or That: "Scully, would you rather?"

The Fox Mulder Show: Post- Arcadia 

Like Mother, Like Son: Mulder bugs Scully for a dinner invitation.

(sequel: Birthday Dinner with Boy Mulder)

Fancy: Post-X-Cops 

Cookies and Milk:  Mulder and Scully have some cookies.

Dead Butterflies: Post-One Son 

The Heart and the Mind: Post-season 7, Mulder returns.

Small Fries: Post-Small Potatoes

Friday: Pre-Monday 

Out with the Boys: Post-First Person Shooter 

Before the Nice Forest Trip: Pre-Darkness Falls

The Long Way: Post-Emily 

The Cut:  a typical afternoon in the basement office, set in s1.

The Hypocrite: Scully has trouble sleeping. Mulder comes to the rescue!

The Fifth Year: "Hey Scully, come meet me at the Y?" 

By Two: Post-Folie à Deux 

The Game: Post-Never Again 

The Joker:  Post-Triangle

After the Fight: Post-Fight Club 

Holmes and Watson:  talk about the dynamic duos.

Woodchuck Day: Post-Je Souhaite

When You Stand They Fall: A snippet of their life on the run.

AU:

My Favourite Boys: Time machine story inspired by Gregg and Angus 

In the Woods: Pre-XF story inspired by While autumn is still here…

The Spring of St. Augustine: Fountain of Youth story inspired by little

Going Down Swinging: Uncle Bill sulking at a party, inspired by little

And Then There Were Ten: William brings home some people to meet his parents.

Always Be My Baby: AU where Emily lives!  

Lessons: Life in the pandemic times

Fox Mulder the Story-Teller: Mulder tells his little girl a story. 

On A-B229: Alien planet story inspired by Seahorses  

Another World: Another alien planet story inspired by Seahorses

Half Life: Homage to Ranma ½

The Client at Two O’clock: 3rd person POV, Mulder seeks some assistance.

Qilin: Mulder has been missing for months. A reunion story.

The Delivery: Jackson rights a wrong.

D. W. Mulder, FBI: Mulder is a woman.  

 Childhood Friend: "What's your earliest memory?" 

All the Mulder’s Girl: Mulder's chooses a new life after Scully returns from her abduction.

Cricket Universe

Name: Jackson's new name

Second: a late-night chat

Shaken: Jackson meets with Scully

Song: Memory is a power thing.

The Drawing: William draws a picture.

Speak: William teaches Cricket how to talk.

Family Treasures: Cricket and William goes trick-or-treating.

Special: Two friends meet as alien invasion nears.

Not Yet: William talks to his friend Millie about his mom and dad.

Naps: Typical afternoon at the Scully-Mulders.

Know Again: Mulder and Scully chat about William's little friend.

Game Nite: Game night at the Scully-Mulders.

William Explains Teen Slang: William explains teen slang.

2028: William makes a delivery.

Friends: William does the dishes with Dad.

Dance: Cricket takes dancing lessons.

W-A-L-K: A typical morning for Mom and Dad.

Scary Monsters: William explains why his parents were banned from an amusement park.

Charis: Cricket is upset.

Fox Mulder, Father Extraordinaire: Fox Mulder is a Father Extraordinaire.

Heinrich’s Hallmark +

The Feature Presentation: Mother's day in the Cricket Universe.

Lunch at One-Twenty-Five: Scully have lunch with a friend.

Snacks: Trying out new food is always fun.

An Ordinary Visit: Mulder and Scully visit a temple.

Bread and Butter: Another typical afternoon at the Scully-Mulder's.

Donut: William makes a new friend.

Worth A Thousand Words +

Mulder’s New Toy: The selfie stories.

Animal House: A day at the zoo!

Anything You Can Do: A day at the beach!

Parental Controls: Mulder learns something new.

Fit for a King: A name is a name is a name...

Tadpole: Shopping with Dad.

Meet the Parents: A teacher's observation.

In the Sky: The true meaning of F.M.

Yo-kai (1/3) |

Yo-kai (2/3) |

Yo-kai (3/3) : A nice trip to the forest.

Here are two ‘series’ where they span from both OG & Cricket Universe:

Conversation in the Very Very Late at Night…. one | two | three | four | five | six | seven | eight | nine | ten |

3X…. one | two | three | four | five | six | seven |

#the list #long version #done july 1 #with summaries #masterlist #x-files fanfic #fanfic #the x files #111 stories

[danadeservesadrink]

Wine and Whiskey Chapter 2

Read on AO3 here 

Chapter 2: Scully’s POV

We’re just going to pretend that I didn’t wait an entire year to post the second chapter for this fic. Oops?

Scully had never been the deviant one. She made her bed with military precision, she only dated nice and respectable boys, she was a straight A student all on her own good merit. Her mother insisted that she was the golden child, the one you brag about to family friends at bridge parties. Truthfully, Scully was just as rebellious as her siblings. She just happened to be better at getting away with it. She was convinced her mother simply ignored her misdoings as she already had her hands full with Melissa, and as long as she kept her grades up she could do whatever she wanted in her own bedroom. If that wasn’t true then her mother must have been blind not to notice the extra tee shirts that kept popping up in the wash, or the times she arrived home late from the library with tousled hair smelling like new car leather and cigarettes.

Either way, Scully adopted the persona of the reliable daughter. The responsible one. The golden child. So when her brother had the audacity to call her on a Friday evening and scream her ear off about responsibility and safety and all his other god damn concerns about her choices in career, she was simply pissed.

Pissed that the golden child could become the fallen angle overnight for making her own decisions for once.

She ignored his little comments about her partner on the phone call, choosing to keep the conversation focused on her, but his voice rang in the back of her mind all the same.

He’s crazy, Dana. He has you going out on these cases putting yourself in danger for some insane crusade that already took one of my sisters. I’m not letting it take another one.

Bill would never understand. He could never comprehend how responsible little Dana could choose to follow one man to the ends of the Earth on her own free will.

But she would.

She was feeling deviant. It was dangerous. Dangerous enough to make her toss on a knit sweater top over her bare chest, foregoing the bra as it poked her bandages. Or at least, that's what she told herself. Dangerous enough to grab the bottle of white she was keeping in her fridge and her car keys.

She knew he would be home, and she was even more certain he would let her in. What she didn’t expect was him flirting back at her. It went against every dynamic they had. Until now, one of them would flirt and the other would silently admonish them, playing coy and superior until the joking ceased and work began, and they could fall back on the safe partnership that they'd created.

But she was given three days leave due to the stitches in her side, and he couldn’t come up with a conspiracy more interesting than why she had shown up on his doorstep at 9:04 on a Friday night. There was no safety net to fall back on. It was just them, in his apartment, splitting a bottle of wine.

She noticed him watching her. How could she not, with his gaze practically burning marks in her skin? It made her take bigger sips.

His eyes were hot on hers, trailing fire into her cheek, her lips, her neck. She watched him too, watched as he turned the bottle ever so slightly so the edge of her imaginary mouth barely overlapped his on the rim where he drank from. She found it oddly respectful.

Her mother called just to tell her off. Of course she apologized for Bill's words, but “why did you have to call him a bastard , Dana?”

Mulder laughed at her answer and she couldn’t help but smile at him. He teased her with alcohol and disappointing her mother and she had never been one to deny a challenge. It was so easy just to joke with him. She saw his eyes widen as she drank with her mother listening, and even though she was well passed the legal age, she felt a rush of deviance.

Her mother told her to really think about what he meant to her. Ask herself if he was really worth risking her life for. If it was, she needed to tell him.

She was scared by how quickly she knew the answer.

She knew he knew that “hi” wasn’t what her mother wanted her to tell him, and she silently thanked him when he didn’t press the issue.

If she was going to do this she needed more alcohol. She already felt it dulling her senses, making her lips tingle and her filter weaken. She knew she was tipsy when she actually giggled in front of him. She was almost embarrassed.

Her mouth went dry as she felt him staring, and the sudden memory of whiskey on a high shelf in his kitchen flashed through her brain. He had offered it to her before, usually with a waggle of his eyebrows and a look not unlike the one he was giving her now, after any particularly troubling case or really any time they had to do a lot of paperwork. Of course she had always denied, but then again she had always been wearing all of her undergarments at the time.

Alcohol was fuzzing her brain and her balance but the physical effort of maintaining her responsible appearance was making her desperate for any excuse to let go.

With the last remaining brain cells not tinged by white wine, she made her choice.

She heard him call after her as she sauntered into the kitchen with the energy of a free woman but she didn’t quite care. She had the obstinance of a child as she stood on her tiptoes to try to reach the bottle. She was about 5 seconds from climbing on top of the counter when she felt him behind her, and she leaned back into his presence.

She giggled as he fumbled and made a swipe at the whiskey, which was easily blocked by him. She liked how strong he looked, framing her tiny body against the counter with his big arms.

“And why should I give you some of my emergency whiskey” and the look he gave her made her melt. He was playing along now, both of them knowing how the night would end, but Scully didn’t mind speeding the process along.

“Because I’ve had a terrible day, and now I’m out of wine”, and she pushed her lip out further to emphasize the point. He stared at her, eyes twinkling.

“What's the magic word?”

Her brain tried to think of flirty comeback, maybe even just a smart one, but moscato wasn’t doing her any favors so she opted for tilting her head back and sticking out her tongue. She saw his pupils dilate with a hunger before she shut her eyes tight, waiting.

The whiskey hit her tongue with a burn and she tried her very hardest to remain cool and collected as the fire hit the back of her throat. She swallowed and coughed before smiling up at him, her look probably reflecting the one she was receiving from him. Hot. Thirsty. Desperate .

“Your turn.”

She pulls him down to his knees, and he lets her. She’s not kidding herself, she barely matched in strength with him on a good day when she’s sober. He let her.

She poured into his mouth the best she could, more focused on his lips then she was on the actual task at hand. His mouth shut quickly and he sputtered, forcing her to rapidly pull up on the bottle.

The whiskey dripped over his lips and chin and she simply couldn’t resist. She pressed her tongue to his cheek, lapping up the extra droplets, feeling the scratch of his stubble against her soft taste buds. She felt him shake.

Her face stayed close to his, their breath intermingling, and she found herself intoxicated on more than just alcohol. Mulder, tonight, was her drug of choice. She allowed herself a fleeting thought about how her brother admonishing her choice in partner just made her want to run to him more, like when her father banned her from smoking so she shoved cigarettes in every purse, pocket, or wallet of hers she could find. It was, of course, a rebellion. But it was a rebellion she very much wanted to lead.

He was questioning her with his eyes and she felt obligated to answer him.

“It’s your emergency whiskey, I didn’t want to waste it.” And to accentuate the point, she trailed her tongue across his chin. It didn’t matter that the alcohol had already melded with his skin, leaving only a bitter and sticky substance for her to lick up. He gasped and the sound of her making him squirm made her laugh. It felt good to be in control. He whispered her name, but she silenced him with a finger, moving it over his lips to rest on his cheek.

She held his face in the palm of her hands and realized she was holding her world. This man, this frustrating, incorrigible, beautiful man was her everything. How could she have ever thought otherwise.

So she kissed him.

She kissed him and the dam broke, and years of tension and trust came pouring out in a clashing of lips, hot and heavy. He stood to his full height, wrapping his hands around her waist, a tantalizing mix of desperate and delicate. She could kiss him for years, losing herself in the taste of his lips, his tongue, as he opened his mouth to her in what she could only describe as worship. He was worshiping her and she loved every second of it.

His mouth leaves her lips and she almost whimpers until it finds the underside of her jaw, her neck, and she feels what is what like to be marked by him. A curse escapes her lips in a strangled moan and she feels him growl against her throat.

“Mine” he whispers into her neck, and she might as well be putty in his hands because she is his, his, all his. She feels herself growing wetter by the second, knowing she’ll have to wear turtlenecks for the next week but not really caring. Or maybe she’ll wear a nice scoop neck, just to let the world know that Fox Mulder had finally claimed his territory.

“Yours” she whispers back, and he stares into her eyes with so much need it makes her choke. His hands drag up her sides, lingering on the bandage and she sees him hesitate. Leave it to Mulder to feel guilty as she’s about to take her clothes off in his kitchen. She pushes his hands higher, leading him to the underside of her breasts, and his eyes widen before he dives back into her collar bone.

“Were you planning…” he starts, interrupting himself by sucking on her clavicle. “On telling me… that you weren’t wearing a bra?” His assault on her chest made her struggle to think of an answer, but if he was allowed to tease then so was she.

“I was more hoping that-” he tickled a particular spot on her neck with his tongue and another string of curses leapt from her lips, “you would find out for yourself”.

It was true, of course, though she hadn’t admitted that to herself until just now. But he seemed satisfied with the answer as he moaned and pushed the sweater over her head. She aided him by lifting her arms, not wanting to hurt herself any further in the process, and when she dropped her arms he was just staring at her. He was slack-jawed, eyes wide, looking at her like a little kid looks at the biggest prize in the claw machine, nose pressed to the glass, full of ambition. The silence rang defining off the empty walls of the kitchen and she could feel every neuron firing in her body at once. She swayed back and forth, the dizzying feeling of Mulder’s eyes on her distracting her from everything else.

“Well?” she asked, tentatively breaking the silence. If the world continued on without his lips on her for one more second she felt as if she might break.

Thank God he knew how to read her mind. He was back on her in an instant, mouth and hand moving in synchronicity over her whole body, pushing and pulling her in exactly the right way, so wonderful she threw her head back in ecstasy. He touched her then, suckling on her nipples and her body seized. Words tumbled out of her lips, curses, moans, his name, those were about the only sounds she could produce at the moment. She fights off the numb feeling of intoxication and forces her desires out into the open. She needs him to know, needs him to hear her.

“Mulder I want you.” He looks up at her to meet her gaze, breathless and hungry.

“Now.”

He always has had a flair for the dramatics, as well as a propensity for overachieving. He lifts her off the counter with her legs wrapped around his torso, with the ease that you pluck a petal off a flower, and carries her towards his room like you would see in a romance movie. She wraps her arms around his neck and kisses him deeply, throwing him off his balance, and he kisses her back while he stumbles in the direction of the nearest bed. He nearly trips, he'll blame the whisky later, sending the pair crashing into a wall instead. She lets out a grunt of pain, her side protesting the harsh contact, and he instantly returns her feet to the floor. He’s so reckless with himself, her Mulder, he’ll run headfirst into the lair of a madman in pursuit of the truth, but when most men would pass off a grunt as a sign to continue, he puts her down and starts checking on her.

She smirks as his eyebrow furrows in concern.

“Scully I’m so sorry…”

“Mulder it's fine”, and she's smiling now, placing her hands on his shoulders to steady him from his worrying. She feels the cold wall pressed against her bare back and remembers she is topless.

It is an absurd situation. The two of them in the hallway outside his bedroom, intoxicated, breathing heavy, her side in a bandage, all of it. Maybe it was just the fact that it took them so many years to find themselves like this.

She laughed, and he joined her, letting the sound fill the hallway and banish any awkwardness that was still stuck between them. He leaned forward and pressed his lips to her forehead. Her eyes fluttered shut as he pressed another one to her cheek, and then a final kiss to her lips that made them tingle.

“Why’d you come here tonight, Scully?” She opened her eyes to see him smiling down on her, trying to conceal all the thoughts that must be running through his head. She smoothed his hair as if that would soothe them.

“I knew you would be here”, she said simply. He laughed and brought her hand to his lips, kissing her fingers.

“So all the seduction was impromptu?”

She shook her head, suddenly shy again. Silence fell like a veil over them again.

“I just… I just like being with you.” She stared down at the ground after her answer, head hanging until a strong hand on her cheek turned it up again. He was beaming at her, and she couldn’t help but smile back at him.

“I like being with you too, Scully” he whispered, and he pressed his lips to hers once more. She felt her body release all tension, melting into his grip, falling fast. She knew he would catch her.

The kiss turned hungry as she opened her mouth into him, and he pulled her lower lip into his mouth, releasing it with a pop. How they could go from giggling in each other's arms to devouring each other so quickly was testament to their bond.  

“Mulder?”

“Mmhmm?”

She paused, and he pulled back from her. She took the moment to look at him, remember his face the way it was right now, fresh and breathless, lips raw from contact, even more luscious than they typically were. It was a face she certainly wanted to become well acquainted with.

“Take me to bed.”

#oops? #sam writes #msr fanfiction #msr #txf fanfic #dana scully #fox mulder #txf #the x files

[randomfoggytiger]

"Mr. Mulder, I Know Something About You"

(Dedicated to @baronessblixen for her fascinating idea: Bill Scully giving Tom Colton and Ethan Minette binders bulging with dirt on one Fox Mulder. This took a slightly different path, though.)

*****

The first time Bill heard the name Fox Mulder was the day after his sister and her partner were sucked almost dry and hospitalized in Washington State for nearly two weeks. One fuzzy, panicked call from Tara and one fuzzier, harried call from his mom sketched in the slim details: Dana was on the mend, she’d been investigating a missing loggers’ case with her partner--

“What 'partner'? She’s in the field?” 

She had been, for months. He’d forgotten to ask at their father’s funeral, convinced that her height and lack of experience had kept her teaching at Quantico. 

“Dana's mentioned him once before, I think. You know how tight-lipped she is about her life.”  

“Mom, do I need to come home? Is she….”

“No, Bill-- but I’ll call you if she takes a turn for the worse.” 

So, Bill stayed on board; and Dana got better, and Tara celebrated over the phone, and Maggie remembered the name: Fox Mulder. 

*****

The second time Bill heard the name Fox Mulder were the days following his sister’s abduction. 

His mother talked of little else-- with Dana’s captor dead, any possible leads had died with him. There was nothing now but faith and hope.  

“But I believe Fox will call as soon as he finds her.” 

Fox. His sister, Tara had told him, still called him Mulder. Then again, Tara’s attention was currently wrapped up in calendars and planners and endless negatives. For that matter, his was, too; and what little time he had to think of family he thought of her, alone, counting the rising costs of their countless tries, alone, while he worked as often as he could to forget to cover those costs and forget his own loneliness. And his sister, somewhere, alone; and his mother back in Maryland, alone.

Dana and her former partner’s professional relationship wasn’t a top priority, or even a distant concern.  

**** 

The third time Bill heard the name Fox Mulder was after promising his eldest sister that Tara would try her fertility herbs. His wife was curled up on one side, quiet, and Melissa stuck her toes in his other side, slyly smiling.

“Now that that’s out of the way,” she concluded, setting aside the herb pouch and pinning him with her eyes, “why haven’t you given Dana a call? She hasn’t said it, but she’s been expecting one.” 

“Don’t start, Missy.” He’d have disengaged, too, but Tara’s head was pressing into his shoulder, a sure sign she was falling asleep. And sleep was precious these days, what with the hormone shots and regular appointments and never-ending stress. He’d promised to shoulder her stresses for nine more weeks; and whether this was a test or not, Bill Scully had and would never back down from his word. 

Melissa, opportunistic woman that she was, had banked on it, waiting for her sister-in-law’s “dozing” tea to kick in before launching the subject. “Billy, you know you want to talk to her. What’s the problem? I mean, she almost… we almost lost her. Why can’t you let whatever you’re holding onto--” 

“Miss--” he stopped, his voice startling them temporarily.

“You owe it to her, Bill. You two haven’t talked in months; and you both say it’s because of your work but really it’s because of your pride. You’re both so like Dad; but at least Dad was blind to what it did to us."

“And what about Dana? She's back on her feet and running right back to her autopsies and late nights. You can’t point a finger at me without three pointing right back at her. At least I try to be there for my family.” 

“You weren’t there when she was gone.” 

He swallowed, stung and angry. “And who was, Melissa? You?”

Her toes gripped his hip, guilty. “Fox.” 

*****

The fourth time Bill heard Fox Mulder’s name was during his sister’s not-so-secret battle with cancer. His mother called often to vent and cry, unable to share her worries and pain with her only living daughter and unwilling to burden Tara with more stress.  

Fox had become a footnote of late, so consumed was he and Dana in their work. 

“Mom, how can you let Dana run herself down like that? She should be resting or looking into treatments-- anything rather than chasing after rag magazine cases half across the country!” 

“Bill, you know perfectly well not everyone can run to sea to escape their problems. Not even you.” 

*****

The fifth time Bill heard Fox Mulder’s name was after he’d met the man, watched him fill Dana’s head with insane theories about chips and government conspiracies, and backed off, awed, when Dana’s cancer miraculously went into remission. 

He was roaming the halls, searching for coffee to wash down the remainder of his rage at Fox Mulder’s red eyes and dazed expression when he noticed another government type walk stiffly towards the nurse’s desk, brusquely flash a badge, straighten his stiff spine and stiffer tie, and promptly demand to see “Fox Mulder.” 

“I know where he is,” Bill cut in, saving the nurse the hassle but still getting a glare for his trouble. “Bill Scully. How can I help you?”

“Yes-- I was sent to bring him back for questioning; and we’re expected in,” he looked significantly at his watch, “forty minutes. If you would take me to him--”

“Take Mulder where?” Bill snapped around to see Walter Skinner, A.D., striding over, eyebrows drawn and face grim.  

“Yes, Sir. Agent Mulder is being called in for--”

“The committee’s been disbanded until further notice, Agent Colton; and until I have those further orders, my agents are not to be bothered or contacted while they are in this hospital. Is that understood?” 

Bill watched the other man’s jaw lock, grind, and shift as it worked its stubborn way around, “Understood, Sir.” Then Agent Colton turned tail and fled, heels thudding down the tile on their thunderous path to the elevator. 

A.D. Skinner wasn’t done yet. “My apologies, Mr. Scully. That agent was out of line; and I'll see to it that your family isn't bothered again.” 

It was best to nod and let the A.D. think he was frustrated with the intrusion.

Mulder could have been mid-conversation or on his way out by now. Instead, he would still be on that bench long after the family had left for the night. 

He seemed the type. 

*****

The sixth time Bill heard Fox Mulder’s name was over another phone call, mere months before the birth of his child. 

“Bill Scully? You might not remember me, but my name’s Ethan, Ethan Minette, and Dana and I used to date back when, well rather, right after she was recruited by the FBI. She ever mention me? Yes? No? Anyway, not important. Calling about information you might possibly have on, lemme check… Fox? Mulder, yep, Fox Mulder. Dana’s partner? There was a case she was involved in recently, really gruesome, real Frankenstein abomination stuff; and Colton, Tom Colton? You know him? Dana’s friend? Anyway, we keep in touch, we’re related somewhat, you know? And he named you as a hot tip and I was wondering if you…. Yeah, yeah, I can wait.” 

He and Tara fought afterward: Tara, as big as a house, was ready to cave the roof in.

“Dana’s coming for the holidays, Bill! And you two will spend the week in stony silence avoiding each other and, and Maggie and I will have to try to keep the peace instead of celebrating our first Christmas as a growing family, and-- and how could you do that, Bill? After all Fox Mulder did for our family?” 

Bill was lacking even to his ears; and, after cooler heads prevailed, he dialed Ethan back up and insisted his name be kept out of the article. Ethan talked doubly fast, banging a pen up and down every other word for emphasis as he cajoled and steamed about losing necessary credibility; but, inevitably, gave in. 

“I’ll only do this because you’re Dana’s brother and she was a real sweetheart. But if I need to call you in future…?” 

“I don’t have any more information.”

Dana skipped most of Christmas, anyway. 

*****

The seventh time Bill heard Fox Mulder’s name was when he flew in for Emily Sim’s hearing. 

“I need him as a witness if I’m to have any chance getting custody of Emily,” Dana had stated carefully, meticulously avoiding eye contact as much as possible. Bill still caught her bewilderment and fear… and joy. 

“When’ll he get here?” 

“Tonight, tomorrow… he didn’t say when, just that he’d be here.” He caught her smile, too. 

“Dana…” Her head snapped up, and he paused. “We’ll be there.” 

“Bill, you don’t have to--”

“We’ll be there, Dana.” 

And they were. 

And so was Fox Mulder. 

Bill left with Tara, tired and emotional, and Maggie, displaced and confused, after exchanging silent, cursory greetings with his sister’s partner. While he slowly walked away, both women in tow, he heard a curt “Dana Scully and Fox Mulder” echo behind him. 

And, in spite of everything, he sent up a prayer for both.

*****

Thanks for reading~

Enjoy!

Tagging @today-in-fic

#txf #fic #mine #Mr. Mulder I Know Something About You" #Bill Scully POV #Part I #Bill Scully #Tom Colton #Ethan Minette #Tara Scully #Maggie Scully #Melissa Scully #Scully #Mulder #xfiles #x-files #the x files #randomfoggytiger's fic

[lilydalexf]

Hello! Could you help me with a fic i don’t remember the title of, it’s a Christmas fic with Mulder Scully and baby William and basically they go spend Christmas at Maggie’s but there is some drama with Bill and Charlie.. I remember it being a pretty long fic and with different POV from the characters

This X-Files Christmas fic sounds like it could be An Acceptable Level of Happiness by Jenna Tooms (here is my fic rec for it). It is a long fic having that situation with those characters, but it's season 8 speculation fic so Mulder and Scully's baby is named Malcolm instead of William, and I think the story is just from Scully's POV. So you may be looking for a different fic.

If you have another idea what fic anon may be looking for, please let us know!

#fic mystery #xfiles fanfic #xf fanfic #christmas #anon #asks

[starbuck09256]

Feel Like Me

Season 2 post duane berry

Scully POV

Fictober day 17! Wow this month is flying by. Bummer. 

tagging @today-in-fic @suitablyaggrieved

6 weeks of mandatory medical leave, as if the three months I was missing wasn’t punishment enough. The first 2 weeks at home, I could barely get my arms and legs to move, the muscular atrophy invidictive of a lack of movement, but no bed sores, no other signs of trauma. I try not to think about it, try to move forward and not question or dwell on the fact that months of my life will most liking forever remain a mystery. I push myself further than I should especially given the fact that so much of what was done is still unknown. My lack of ovulation, the extreme branches of compounds in my blood, the science is staring me in the face and I can’t seem to see any of the answers. I see questions, questions that disturb my dreams and haunt my days. I try to run again try to let the wind and the pavement take away the relentless questions that plague my mind. I lace up my shoes grab my keys, hope and pray that I can move past this. I close my door walk down the steps to my building, the steps that 2 weeks ago Mulder and my mother carried me up upon my insistence. I look at them in destain, I see myself as weak and not the fierce warrior that beat out half the men in my fbi academy class. I no longer feel like the woman who didn’t need to command respect because my demeanor and strength was projected on its own. Now I only feel weak and guarded, I see pity in my mother and sister. Even Mulder, whom my mother said was broken by my absence has stayed away. I miss him, and at the same time I don’t. I don’t want to have anyone here to pick up the pieces of a life that was shattered by a mentally deranged psychopath. I don’t need Melissa telling me that hypnosis and therapy and crystals are the solution to knowing that you were subjected to god knows what without your consent. I don’t want Mulders guilt and pity to overshadow the strong relationship we had and yet. As I try to run down the block, my lungs start to seize my muscles cramp up and I fall to the cold hard pavement in tears. The desperation I feel for the life I had is as broken. My soul aches for a chance to go back in time and change the past. To go back before Duane Barry, to go to Mulders after I foolishly scanned that trinket at the grocery store. My crumbled body is cold and wet, as the rain soaks into my skin and clothes. My shoelaces jumbled as I try to tie them my hands shake from the nervous breakdown and shock I’m going through, I see a man in the distance running towards me, my anger flares up and all I feel is hatred, hatred that its not me running down the block to the store. Hatred that I have no idea when my last menstrual cycle was. Hatred that I have overdue bills, library fines, and a job that I can’t set foot back at for 4 more weeks while I suffer in an apartment that makes me scream in my head every single second I’m in it. The man running to me is none other than Mulder. I can tell he is screaming my name but I can’t hear anything over my sobs and the heavy rain hitting the pavement. I don’t want his comfort or pity but damn if I don’t need his help. I feel weak and vulnerable like I did on our first case, and I’m soaked to the bone as he lifts me up into his arms. He carries me up to my apartment his long jacket and white dress shirt are soaked through. He gets to the door shifting me slightly to find his spare key, a spare key that my mother gave him when I was missing. Another moment stolen, my privacy vanished. Not that Mulder went through my things, but he certainly slept on the couch a few times. He cleaned my apartment for me when I was in the hospital. Said it was one of the only times he felt useful, he’s lousy at dusting. But even with the rain his musk invades my senses as he carries me to the couch. He sheds his coat pull his ugly tie off and is shirtless in minutes, I gasp at his lean body. I’ve seen him shirtless numerous times before, but apparently not having a partner that constantly questions you leaves you more time at the gym. He starts to tug off my shirt and shoes and pants. I’m shivering in my sports bra and thin underwear. He takes a mere second to wrap me up in a towel, lovingly drying my hair. His voice finally comes through.

 “Hi, I’m sorry you just seem to be in shock and we can’t have you getting a cold when you just got out of the hospital.” 

He brushes my hair off my face. I say nothing looking at him as he grabs a towel and dries off roughly. His pants are still soaked. I make a meek gesture and he gets the hint. He strips down to his boxers, I try desperately not to look at his hard on and drag my eyes to stare at his warm hazel globes, that have comforted me in moments of sheer terror. He leans forward gives me a soft kiss on my forehead. 

 “I’m just going to throw our stuff in the dryer, and grab you some dry clothes ok?” He strokes my cheek and I can only nod at him. 

My ankle hurts and I pull the towel a little more around me taking off my sports bra and tossing it towards his back. He turns sees my bare chest and I here a groan before he reaches down and picks it up to throw in with the others. I stare at the blank wall wondering if I’m going to come to my senses and kick him out. If he will do something stupid like call my mother. If he will go home if I even try to tell him to leave. He probably won’t he must have been watching me from the road. I don’t know what should bother me more, the fact that he had me under surveillance or that I didn’t notice it. He comes back wearing a pair of his gym shorts that he had stashed here, probably from when he was secretly staying when I was missing. He has one of his knicks shirts on too, carrying some FBI sweats and a loose looking top. I try to reach for it without dropping the towel that I clutch to my skin. He hands it to me grabs the towel and lifts it up so I can change into it. My nipples are hard from the cold and stick through the thing shirt. He also brought a pair of underwear for me, not granny panties but not any of my lacy clearly for sex stuff either. The fact that he has been through my drawers should bother me too, but knowing we have both packed for one another more than a few times in the short time we have been working together it doesn’t. I struggle and finally get everything on I reach up and touch his hand still gripping the towel tightly as he looks down. I still say nothing he pulls me into a tight hug and I fold a little. 

“I know you are fine, and think everything is going to be fine, and it is, or it will be. But Scully.” 

He takes my hand and we sit side by side on the couch as he turns to face me. He cups my face in that way he does stroking my cheek. I watch his eyes. He looks down towards are hands clasped in one another. 

“I’m not fine Scully, I’m not fine with you being back here, I’m not fine not being with you. I’m worried that every time the phone rings and I don’t answer it immediately I’m going to hear your voice screaming in a message, that I got too late.” 

My lip quivers, I forget sometimes, that while I might be missing the time that I was gone, my missing from my life changed the people around me too.

 “I worry at night that I’m going to wake up and you will still be gone, and I’ll get another call to check and see if the redhead at yet another morgue is you. I’m not fine at all, and if you want to tell me to get lost and repeat to yourself that you are fine, ok. Whatever. Tonight though I needed to see you, I needed to just double check. Ok?” he pauses takes a moment to rub his face. “I uh.. Should get going. Just you know bring back the suit stuff when you come back in a few weeks.” 

He starts to move off the couch and I reach for his arm. Look at him and give him a small smile. 

“I’m not really fine...my ankle hurts. I uh think I pushed myself to hard, there is also nothing to eat here and I’m starving.” I mutter. 

He smiles big this time, like he did when he walked into that hospital room and saw me awake. That smile that has probably melted more than a few girls hearts is melting mine right now. 

“I brought food, your favorite. It’s in the car. I was just going to make up something about work, bring a file you know.” 

“Do you have a file I can look at?” I ask because god knows I need a distraction and working, working with him and challenging my mind like he does is a sure fire way to help distance myself a bit. 

“Yea I well, I brought a box.. I just.. I really fucking missed you.”

I laugh. “If I could remember anything, I think I would remember missing you too.”  

He grins. Leans forward again and this time I lean up and press my lips lightly to his. It's over too soon and I already want to kiss him again  

“Thanks for you know checking on me.” 

He runs his thumb over my cheek. 

“You gonna go get that food and work or what?” 

“Yea, I’m sorry that kiss left me a little stunned is all. I’m going I’m going.” 

“If you got my favorite and a juicy autopsy I might give you another.” 

I shout as he opens my door. He smiles, when he politely knocks to come back in  I laugh. He goes to hand me the extra key. 

“I uh think you should keep it, you know case you aren’t fine.. Or ..whatever.” I whisper.

He nods and shifts the box from his hip and I finally feel like me again.

#my fic #mulder and scully #season 2 #duane berry #fictober19 #xfiles #msr #the xfiles #comfort #fluff

[snickerl]

I am reblogging this because I don’t know how or why the last part and thus the closure of this ficlet was missing. It’s in italics at the end if you want to find out how Ahab’s and Maggie’s conversation went on after “Did you ever...”  Instead of finishing the sentence he bit his lower lip.

Mom’s The Best

A collection of XF ficlets

I started this collection of stand-alone ficlets from Margaret Scully’s POV a while ago because she’s always been one of my favorite characters. This particular chapter has been sitting in my “yet to post” box for the longest time because I wasn’t sure if anybody would be interested in reading it. Anyway, today I decided it was time to post it and just find out...

So far, the collection contains the following ficlets:

PEPPERMINT TEA APPLE PIE ROOT BEER PEACH PUNCH CHOCOLATE COOKIES

APPLE CRUMBLE

"Hey Starbuck, have you decided which offer you want to take yet? I heard Johns Hopkins is interested."

Bill Scully, Sr. had just swallowed the last piece of roast. He was dabbing the corners of his mouth with a napkin and popped the question casually at his younger daughter who instantly stopped chewing. His wife sucked in her breath. Maggie somehow knew this wasn't a good after dinner topic. Dana had been avoiding to talk about what to do after her graduation from medical school lately whereas Ahab had hardly been talking about anything else.

Maggie knew he loved all his children but Dana had always been his favorite. Since the day she was born, she had been the apple of his eye. It had put her at the receiving end of his fatherly affection like none of her siblings but it had also put a lot of pressure on the girl to cope with. When she had been admitted to medical school, Maggie had seen her husband almost burst out of pride, Dana Katherine Scully, M.D. sounded like a melody in his ears. Therefore failing or, God forbid, dropping out hadn't been an option for Dana. It had turned her into an ambitious, tenacious, and determined young woman with an incredible amount of stamina who would do anything to not disappoint her daddy. To her mother's dismay, enjoying life had fallen a bit by the wayside in the process. Well, her older sister and younger brother had compensated for it more than enough.

Dana was putting the cutlery down in slow motion, then dabbed her lips thoroughly. She squinted her left eye for a brief moment and looked at her father.

"You heard? From whom?"  

Maggie noticed a sensitive undertone in Dana's voice her husband obviously missed because he continued unwaveringly.  

"Daniel told me."

"How did you get around talking about me with my boyfriend?"

Dana was tensing up noticeably. Maggie held her breath.

"He's as interested in your career as I am. Your move into the medical field needs to be well considered, and Daniel says Boston is offering the best opportunity for you to go into cardiology."

"Oh? Daniel says? I see." Dana chewed the inside of her cheek before she asked tight-lipped, "do I get a say in this, dad, or have Daniel and you already submitted my application?"

Bill's eyes widened at his daughter's harsh and open irony. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Dana let out an annoyed chuckle. "Does it even occur to you that I might have other plans?"

"You're not talking about that crazy FBI idea, are you? That's absolutely out of the question!"

Bill shook his head. Ever since Dana had first mentioned that she had been approached by an FBI recruiter, he refused to even talk about it, always wiping the topic away with a dismissive wave of his hand, just like he was doing now.

"Bill, please," Maggie cut in as she felt tears welling up in her eyes.

The family dinner which had started out so nice and enjoyable was at the brink of turning into a veritable family argument. They hadn't been together like this for quite a while because the final exams of med school had accounted for all of Dana's free time. Now that all the tests - written, practical, and oral - were taken and they were waiting for the results, doubting not even for a nanosecond that her marks would be anything but excellent, their daughter finally allowed herself to spend an evening away from her textbooks at her parents' house.

"It's my life we're talking about here, dad, and not that many graduates get recruited right out of medical school by the FBI. I would get the chance to specialize in forensic pathology and might be teaching at the Academy later on. That's really something I can see myself in."

Maggie noticed how Dana's tensed-up body posture relaxed a bit, how exhilaration took over. It showed clearly how excited she was about this. Unfortunately, her husband wasn't this sensitive, for he exclaimed indignantly, "pathology? A medical doctor saves lives and does not cut open dead people who can't be helped anymore. It's stupid!"

"Stupid? Pathology is a medical specialty like any other. It isn't about some morbid slicing and dicing, it's about getting to the bottom of why and how a person died. It's science. Forensic pathology is a substantial part of solving criminal cases and convicting murderers. I would be saving lives by keeping potential victims from harm by killers that I helped to put behind bars."

Dana's passionate advocacy of forensic pathology didn't impress Ahab one bit. He didn’t seem to listen to her at all actually, Maggie noticed. Instead, he was pulling another ace from his sleeve; or so he thought.

"You really want to be a Fed, Dana? Lowsy pay and small reputation included?"

"This is what this is actually all about, isn't it? Pay and reputation." It wasn't meant as a question. "Your daughter being an underpaid federal agent wouldn't be anything you'd be comfortable talking about in your old boys' circle, would it? Your offspring performing open heart surgery though would be something else, something you wouldn't hesitate a second to let your friends know. Right, Dad?"

Ahab took a step backward. Was he perhaps impressed in some way by Dana's accusatory tone, Maggie marveled. There was a kernel of truth in it somewhere, for sure. Her husband had always loved letting his environment know how well his beloved Starbuck was doing. Dana had hit a blind spot with her angry words, she read from the change in Bill's whole demeanor and facial features. He had not only taken a step away from his daughter, not towering her anymore, but his whole body posture collapsed. His arms, which he had been fidgeting with, were hanging limply all of a sudden, his chin, which had been lifted challengingly, had sunken to his chest, and his eyes, which had been boring through Dana's just a moment ago, were avoiding hers now. He gritted his teeth so hard his jaw pushed through visibly. Maggie had very rarely seen her husband searching for words; this was one of the times.

"It's just...Daniel...well, he says you're really good at it and that you'd have a bright future in cardiology," he eventually tried to defend himself, but Dana didn't want to hear any of it.

"Daniel? Daniel says? And what Daniel says is necessarily right? You don't trust me to make my own choice? To know what's good for me?"

Ahab tried to fend off the accusations he had been showered with a feeble, "you're getting it all wrong, Dana." Maggie almost felt like stepping up and pairing with him to form a consistent parental entity. It was what they had always done when serious arguments with their children occurred, she was wondering why she was somehow reluctant to do so now. Before she got to the bottom of the motivation, or rather lack thereof, Dana's voice filled the room again.

"I don’t think I'm getting anything wrong here! It's so typical for men to believe they are to make choices for us women. I mean, did mom ever had a say in whether she wanted to pursue her career after you got married?"

Maggie's heart skipped a beat and she realized that her daughter was unconsciously rubbing her nose into what was keeping her from backing her husband up in this matter.

"Your mother knew what it meant to be a Navy wife," Bill said without even looking at her as if the woman he was talking about wasn't in the same room standing just a few inches away from him.

"That does not mean she wouldn't have liked to keep working. She loved being a teacher, didn't you, mom?" Dana exclaimed, her glaring eyes meeting her mother's.

"I, uh-," Maggie started but was interrupted instantly by her husband.

"She was happy to be a housewife and mother."

"You didn't even let her answer herself just now, for Christ's sake! Was she allowed to have an opinion of her own back then? Did you even ask her or agreed upon what was good for her together with grandpa, just like you are doing for me right now with Daniel?"

Without even taking another breath Dana turned to Maggie and implored, "mom! Don't you have anything to say to this?"

"Watch your mouth, young lady! I am not to be spoken to in this tone by any of my children. And neither is your mother." Ahab's words came out of his mouth like shots out of a machine gun. Sharp, cold, deadly, but Dana would not let herself get intimidated.

"I'm an adult, dad! I'm not a kid anymore you can force to take piano lessons just so she can play Mozart to your party guests for their entertainment and your sick fatherly pride."

"How dare you-"

"Stop it! Now! Both of you!"

Maggie had been listening to what was being said about her with a mixture of shock, anger, and regret until she drowned the gamecocks in a high-pitched voice. She knew that if they went on, they would be saying something they regretted later. They had never been in an argument like this, mainly because Dana had always been a child trying to please her father, always wanting to make him proud of her. These times seemed to have come to an end. She was obviously ready to disobey his wishes, and Maggie secretly believed that it actually wasn't such a bad thing. Even though she herself had been pulled into their fight, she knew that right now was not the time to voice her own feelings about the whole FBI matter. Right now she had to protect father and daughter from getting themselves into a rage and saying something so hurtful the wounds left behind would be difficult to heal. Ahab and Starbuck had always been so close, if they tore themselves asunder over this, it would break both of their hearts; and Maggie's own heart along with it.

Both were staring at her, flabbergasted by her temperamental, forceful outburst. They weren't used to her speaking up, reining people in so openly. She usually tried to appease, to sugarcoat cracks and to smooth out disagreements within the family. "Don't look at me like this!" she said. "Did you even realize how you were yelling at each other? This is not how we talk to each other in this family!"

Maggie had a distinct need for harmony and every family member relied on it. No matter how severe the dispute was, everybody knew she would later arbitrate between the parties and make them reconcile again. Throughout her married life, she'd played the mediator between her husband and his children as well as between the siblings many times, had always tried to be impartial, to not take one side but make them see the other's point of view, to understand each other. It had always worked best like this. Until today. Today she would leave her neutral position and speak up for the person she believed had a reason.

"Dana is right, Bill," she said and was surprised about how easily the words were leaving her mouth.

"What?" her husband retorted, apparently dumbfounded by the statement which was so openly in conflict with his own opinion on this matter.

"What?" Dana whispered, equally caught off-guard like her father but in a more positive way.

"She's right. It's her choice to make, not ours."

Here she was again, Margaret Scully, a loyal wife to her husband, joining him as a parent by calling it their choice when as a matter-of-fact it had been just his. It was fair enough though, to not push him in the corner and blame him alone because if she was honest, she would have to admit that she was also not fond of her daughter's idea to join the FBI, but for totally different reasons.

Ahab's face turned red, anger creeping through his body. "What's going on in your minds, you Scully women? Very well, then," he spat but knew better than to start another argument with his wife now. He let out an exasperated huff, turned on his heel, and took a beer out of the refrigerator and mumbled under his breath, "I'm outside."

"Great," Dana hissed right after the porch door had been closed with a loud 'bang' seconds later, "now he's mad at me and you."

"That's alright, sweetheart. He's going to calm down again. We let him have his beer and give him time to think."

"I'm a disappointment for him because I'm not taking the career path he wants me to."

Maggie gasped. It hurt to see Dana being so hard on herself. Children weren't determined to fulfill their parents' dreams, they should aspire their very own goals.

"It's your life, Dana. You have to decide on your own. You've already signed the contract, haven't you?"

"No, but I really want to do this, mom."

"Yes, I can see your determination, but I always thought it was medicine you wanted to work in."

"I've never given anything else much thought until the FBI approached me."

"What is it with law enforcement that interests you so much?"

"It's not law enforcement per se but the opportunity to specialize in pathology. That's science, mom. Searching for the cause of death in a dead body is scientific work. It will challenge my intellect in many more ways than doing one heart catheter investigation after another. You remember that I wrote my undergraduate thesis about Einstein, don't you? If dad hadn't pressured me into medicine, I might've as well graduated in physics. I love science, mom."

"I know you do, but all this time you spent in medical school...you worked so hard for your degree, sweetheart. Are you willing to throw this all away?"

"I'm not throwing it away. A pathologist is a medical doctor like any other, and if I find out that the FBI is nothing for me, I can start as a resident at a hospital in cardiology or pediatrics any time. Johns Hopkins won't give me another chance probably but there are enough renowned hospitals in America." She looked at her mother with tears in her eyes, searching for some understanding. "I really want to give this a try, mom."

"You've already made up your mind," Maggie realized.

"Yes. I have an appointment with HR at the FBI headquarters this week. Field training will start next month."

Maggie tensed up. "You're going to be out in the field?"

"It's not intended. I get trained in forensic pathology and will work in the morgue and the lab mainly. Any time later, I might also be teaching at Quantico."

"Not intended? Does that mean it might happen nonetheless? That you have to go out into the field to track down criminals?"

"Mom, it's the FBI after all. I mean, it's part of the training and I have to do what I'm assigned to. If they need my expertise out in the field one day, I might be partnered up with someone. You know how it works in a federal institution, people are not asked but ordered."

Yes, being married to a naval captain, Maggie knew how it worked. Her family had been ordered to relocate to a different Navy base on short notice more than once, and her husband had been commandeered to dangerous missions around the globe never ever taking into consideration whether his wife was pregnant or his children had just made new friends at school. She also knew what it was like to worry about a beloved one on a daily basis, how to cope with the constant fear that something might happen to them. Maggie knew all of this and she wasn't sure how she was supposed to get through it once again. When Ahab had eventually retired from active military service and started working behind a desk, assuming a consulting role at the base, it had taken months until she had learned to not expect a compassionate Navy officer tell her something happened to her husband behind every nightly ring of the phone or urgent knock at the door. And now it would start all over again. How she wished her daughter would spare her dealing with this kind of fear.

She was fearing for Bill, Jr. already, her oldest son, who had followed his father's footsteps into the Navy. But he was tall and strong. A man. Dana was so small and fragile. Not any less fierce than her older brother, probably even more tenacious than he, but wouldn't she easily be outrun and overpowered by a muscled male criminal? Wouldn't she be bullied as a woman in a male-dominated environment? Maggie knew the FBI was as much an old boys' club as the Navy. Her daughter would have to fight herself through the system day in and day out. What a tough path she was choosing for herself.

Maggie sighed quietly but wouldn't voice her inhibitions. She would swallow her fears down and would resist the temptation to ask Dana to stay in the medical field just so her mother would be able to sleep more peacefully. Her daughter had every right to do whatever she wanted. It was her life, her career, her choice, and in a way she admired her guts. She would stand up to any man who underestimated her like she had stood up to her father today. Who would have thought that the tiny rosy bundle she had held prematurely in her arms all those years ago after a complicated pregnancy and difficult childbirth would grow up to become such a powerful and strong personality.

"I'm so proud of you, Dana," Maggie said, working hard though to mask her underlying worries.

"Thanks, mom, but you're the only one I'm afraid. Dad's never going to accept it."

"Don't underestimate your father. Give him some time to get used to the idea."

Dana shook her head. "Let's face it, he's disappointed in me."

"You have to go on your own way, Dana, not on the one your father wants to see you on. He will understand eventually."

"Do you really think so?"

"He's your father, and he loves you no matter what."

Maggie was sure of it. His love for his daughter was infinite. One day he would be able to swallow down his pride and see Dana's choice for what it was, an autonomous decision by his grown-up daughter. Something else was on Maggie's mind though. Her father wasn't the only dominant male figure in Dana's life.

"What's Daniel's reaction to your decision?"

Dana looked away. It took her a moment until she answered her mother. "I'm going to break up with him, mom."

"Oh. Because of this?"

"No...yes...well, I guess it's the straw that broke the camel's back. He's been so patronizing lately. He's not only planned my residency but has also more or less outlined my whole career after that. Can you imagine? I mean, who does he think he is that he acts like my goddamn guardian?"

A wave of relief was rolling over Maggie. She'd always thought that Dana's relationship with Daniel was not sufficiently based on equality although she had never mentioned anything to Dana, Dana was old enough to decide who she dated.

Daniel was Dana's teacher in medical school. He was an accomplished man, married, which bugged Maggie in particular. Not because she saw Dana as an adulteress - it had been the man's own decision to leave his wife and teenage daughter to get involved with one of his students - but because he used her, bathed himself in how she looked up to him. He enjoyed the role of her mentor, both in the medical field as in how to lead her life. Of course, he wanted her to do her residency under his wings in his hospital. It would give him the perfect opportunity to guard her furthermore, to mold her into what he saw in her.

A clear cut was maybe for the best. A completely clean slate. Another professional environment, another city, another man eventually. Maggie would hate to see her independent-minded, self-assured, and autonomous daughter permanently with someone who didn't treat her as an equal. There had to be men out there who saw her inner height and didn’t mistake her for a little girl just because she was petite. But Maggie also knew that Dana loved Daniel, that she had thought not long ago she would share her entire life with him. Breaking up wouldn't be easy.

"I better get going, mom. I don't think dad is coming back inside as long as I'm here."

"But what about dessert? I made your favorite." 

Even if it was a bit silly to believe there was even the slightest chance the three of them would be sitting at the table together having dessert, Maggie tried.

"Apple crumble with vanilla sauce and whipped cream?"

"Uh huh," Maggie confirmed.

She had even made the vanilla sauce herself this time. She hadn't done that in a while because of the time-consuming work involved, but the ones you could buy consisted more of sugar and artificial flavor than real bourbon vanilla, and that was what Ahab and Dana liked the most.

"Especially for your father and you."

"You're the best, mom." Dana flew into her arms and hugged her tightly. "I'm so sorry I ruined the evening, but I had to tell dad sooner or later. As much as I love your apple crumble, I lost my appetite. I don't think I can get anything down now."

"Take some home, dear. You can have it later, or tomorrow. I made it this morning, it'll persist a few days."

Dana gifted her one of her warm, genuine smiles. "I'd love to."

After Dana had said her goodbye with two Tupperware boxes in her hand and the front door closed shut behind her, Maggie stepped through the screen door out on the patio behind the house. Ahab was sitting in one of the deckchairs. His eyes were closed but he wasn't sleeping. There was an empty beer bottle on the floor and one half-full in his hand. He put it to his mouth and took a swig.

"Has she left?" he asked without opening his eyes.

"Yes. She told me to say goodbye."

He chuckled condescendingly. "There were times she gave me a hug before she left."

"Well, you didn't really make the impression you wanted to be hugged tonight."

He snorted, sat upright, put the bottle to his lips and emptied it in one gulp.

"Shall I get you another one?"

"Are you trying to appease after having stabbed me in the back?"

"I haven't stabbed you in the back, Bill. I just spoke out what I thought was right."

"It's not right that she throws away her medical degree and goes into law enforcement instead. The FBI, for heaven's sake, Maggie! She'll spend her time in a dull governmental building behind a utilitarian desk. She'll have to fight with the audit department over expenses more than she'll take criminals into custody. She'll waste years accomplishing nothing until she realizes she made a mistake." He pinched the bridge of his nose. "I can't believe the money we paid for medical school was all for naught."

"Haven't you listened at all? She told us that she would specialize in forensic pathology."

"She could be a heart surgeon but wants to become a pathologist? That doesn't make any sense! Why doesn't she see what Daniel is offering her?"

"He might actually be part of the problem."

"Huh?"

"Daniel is part of the problem, Bill," Maggie repeated with more emphasis. "Can't you see that Dana wants to stand on her own two feet? That she wants neither her father nor her partner to tell her what career path to choose? Is that really so hard for you to understand? She wants to make her own decisions."

"You mean she's doing this to get one over on me?"

Maggie sighed. "No, Bill, this has nothing to do with you. Or Daniel. That's exactly the point."

Bill shook his head and put the bottle to his lips to take another swig. Realizing it was empty, he snorted. After contemplating for a moment, he popped a question which had obviously been bothering him for the time he had been out on the patio.

"Uhm...Maggie...what Dana said..."

"Yes, dear?" she said warmly. She had an idea of what was on his mind. They had never spoken about it, not even once since they were married, and she found it ironic in a way that one of their kids had to bring the topic up.

"What she said about you...uh, you giving up teaching," Ahab continued stammering.

"Yes?"

"Would you have rather continued working? Instead of...I mean..."

"Being there for you and the kids?" she completed his thought and added with a smile, "no."

"Hmm," he grunted apparently not fully convinced.

"Times were different then, Ahab. Today, it might have been possible for me to be a teacher and a housewife and mother, but not back then. You were right when you said that I knew what it would be like to be a Navy wife, and I chose to be one. I loved you, and I wanted to have children with you."

"Did you ever..." Instead of finishing the sentence he bit his lower lip.

"Regret it? No. Not a single day." "Hmm," Bill gruntled again, staring at the empty beer bottle in his hands, peeling the label off. "Why does Dana have to be so stubborn?" "Oh, Bill," Maggie laughed good-naturedly, "because we raised her to be an emancipated woman with an independent mind and a strong will. When has Dana ever been inconsiderate or unreasonable? Huh, Bill? I'm sure she's given this much thought, and I'm also sure that the feeling she's disappointing you is hard for her to handle. She adores you, Ahab." "Weird way of showing me," he mumbled, softening a bit. His shoulders, which had been tense were slowly descending, his brows returned to their original spots, and the wrinkles on his forehead were fading. He breathed in deeply and let the tension flow out of his body with a prolonged exhale. Maggie seized the moment to go for his soft spot again. "She's still your Starbuck." His special nickname for her, being the only person allowed to call her like that, never missed having an effect on him. He was relenting even more. "Yes, sure. Of course, she is." Maggie took the empty bottle out of her husband's hand and put it on the floor next to the other. She pushed the second deckchair right beside his, placed herself in it, and intertwined her fingers with his. After a while, she asked, "are you ready for some apple crumble for dessert?" "You made apple crumble?" "It's Dana's and your favorite. The plan was to spoil you a bit tonight." "Did you buy that sugar-sweet sauce again?" "No, I made it myself. Following your mother's recipe." Bill Scully smiled lovingly at his wife and squeezed her hand tenderly. He pulled it up to his mouth and placed a soft kiss on its back. "I don't deserve you. I'm sorry the evening turned out like this. I know how much you like to have your children around. They drop by seldom enough." "It's okay, darling. You said what you had to say. Just don't be too strict with her. She's doing what she feels is right. She's not doing it to purposely contradict you." Bill left it at that for a moment. "I can't believe the money we spent on medical school," he said again and groaned. "Well, you never know, Ahab. Dana will be a medical doctor, one way or another, and who knows what the FBI has in store for her. She might become the Bureau's first female director," she said with a smile. He let that sink in for a moment, and although the fact that his daughter would not become a heart surgeon was still bugging him, this new idea soothed him a little. Maggie could imagine what was going on in his mind. If there was a woman capable of achieving this seemingly unreachable position for a female, it would have to be his Starbuck. "You did give her some dessert to take home, right? She loves your apple crumble." "Sure." Maggie smiled. Despite all the grievances Ahab had aired this evening, he cared very much for Dana. Inside the strict Navy captain was a devoted father; devoted to all his children but particularly to his younger daughter. And even if it seemed to Dana that he had been a dominant husband, having pressured her into a life as a housewife and mother, it had been her own wish to be this exactly, a supporting wife to her husband and a loving mother to her children. Maggie knew Bill treasured her, that he had never even thought of anyone else but her to share his life with. He had always been a loyal husband and family man, and she had relied on him to provide for her and the kids in return. She never had the feeling she had missed or lost anything because she had once decided to marry him. On the contrary, he had given her four wonderful children and a sheltered life. For that, she was infinitely thankful. She loved him.

#xf fanfiction #margaret scully #no mulder #pre season 1 #young scully

[minuete-blog]

New storyline for Perspective Series from Melissa Scully POV. I realized as I’m writing this that it will be very Melissa Scully-centric with sprinkles of Scully and Mulder mixed in. Who knows perhaps a love interest as well? Tagging @today-in-fic

The Scully Sister

Chapter 1: Childhood Notion

Since I was little, I’ve always had a morbid fascination with death. It must have stemmed from a funeral my family attended when I was only 4 years old for a great-aunt whom I was named after on Dad’s side, but I remember thinking how peaceful she looked in her sleep despite the heavy makeup. I was holding onto one of Dad’s hands while Bill held the other. All three of us stared at her still form until Mom hurried us away with Dana in her arms as we held up the line.

It wasn’t until I was thirteen while watching a documentary on Cleopatra in class when I had this fatalistic view of my life: that I was going to die young. Up until elementary school, I was a straight-A student doing what was expected in the Scully household. I didn’t know why Cleopatra sparked this notion in my head. Was it because she was allowed to choose her manner of death? Was it painful to die via a poisonous snake bite? What were her last thoughts on earth? Did she believe in the Afterlife like all her followers?

I posed these questions to Mom one day while she was prepping for dinner in the kitchen. Dad had been underway for the past five months, leaving Mom all alone with us four kids. She looked at me impatiently with her stock answer: “I don’t know, but I’m sure God does.”

God. Yet another theology I had to grapple with once I grasped onto the notion that I would die young. We attended Mass every Sunday dressed in our Sunday best; it was our one constant during Dad’s time in the military. Confirmation was around the corner for me as the nuns were constantly bombarding us with psalms and passages to memorize. Bill got confirmed, much to Mom’s relief and delight, as we all went home and celebrated his dedicated soul to God with his favorite meal.

After Bill’s led prayer when we gathered around the dining table, Mom started going around the table asking how everyone’s day was going and what our plans were the rest of the week as we were eating. We’re kids, Mom. What plans should we have besides school and play? Charlie, bless his soul, told Mom he planned to stick up for a kid that was being bullied in class. Dana, the overachiever, wanted to ask her teacher for extra credit on the history project regarding California missions on top of the required diorama all students had to turn in. Once it was my turn to speak, I blurted, “I’m not going to get confirmed next year.”

Everyone stared at me wide-eyed, except for Mom who pursed her lips together and gave me The Look. “Melissa Grace Scully! What do you mean you’re not going to participate in the Confirmation?” she asked.

“I mean exactly that, Mom. I’m not doing it.”

“Why?” she asked. I didn’t have an answer for my decision then. It wasn’t until a decade later when I realized my answer was that I didn’t believe in organized religion and being herded to believe a certain way. It didn’t matter at the time anyway. Mom dismissed my statement simply saying that we would table this topic as she moved onto Bill and asked about his plans for the week.

And just like that, I created a tear in the Scully household seam.

#Perspective Series #Melissa Scully POV #mood #tone #Pre-series through The Blessing Way

[dontjudgemepeepswrites]

Windbreaker City - S2 ep15

y/n - your name

y/n/n - your nickname

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

*y/n's pov*

Today's the day: Windbreaker city. Aka, the best day of the year.

"Hey, Homeland Security, gather around. I have bad news," Agent Kendrick sighs. We all turn to him to hear his news. "Unfortunately, our friends at the DOD have had to drop out, and have been replaced with the NYPD." He rolls his eyes. I don't like Kendrick; he's an ass. I like the NYPD! I mean, our jobs would be much harder if it weren't for them. And they're nice people and underrated. However, I can't voice my opinion. Not here anyway. A load of sighs and groans are projected. Snooty pricks. "I know, I know. But this should be the only time it happens. Now everyone in the bus." We all get in, me even more eager now that I know that the NYPD will be there. But I obviously don't show it.

*At the venue*

Ah, it's nice to be back. I love Windbreaker city. I love getting to meet new people through it and seeing my friends. I could become friends with someone on the NYPD! Today's gonna be a good day.

*10 minutes later*

I've changed my mind. It's going to be awful. I saw my ex. He must work in the NYPD. Crap.

"Stella, I'm gonna need your help today," I say to Stella, my closest friend at Homeland Security.

"Why? What happened? You never need help."

"My ex is here."

"Oh. You need help avoiding them?"

"Yes. He works for the NYPD and his name is Jake Peralta. He has brown hair and eyes. We dated in high school but had a few disagreements about somethings and broke up. It was very messy."

"I'll do the best I can."

"Alright, everyone take their seats. My name is Agent Kendrick, Homeland Security, and I am in charge here. This year's scenario: terrorists have stormed the Capital Trust's Bank building and have taken hostages."

"Noice," I hear, followed by a high five.

"Yup, definitely Jake Peralta," I whisper to Stella.

"Oh, cool trick. I don't have a ton of free time to practise high fiving," mocks Kendick (yes, that was intended), before doing exactly what I'm assuming Jake did. I roll my eyes, annoyed at him.

"Oh, I'm sorry, y/n. Did you just roll your eyes at me?" Kendick asks. Well, that threw any chance of Jake not seeing me out the window.

"No, sir," I respond, despising that I have to call him sir.

"That's what I thought. Now, here are your assignments:" Kendick starts, but I feel a pair of eyes focused on me. I look up in Jake's direction, locking eyes with him. Yup, he's definitely seen me.

"Never mind," I whisper to Stella.

"ATF, you will be our terrorists. Homeland Security, you are command control. Marshals, strike team alpha. And NYPD..." he pauses to look at his clipboard, but I already know what he's going to say. "It says here that you will be our hostages."

"What? So you just want us to lay on the ground and nothing like a bunch of losers?" the familiar voice asks.

"Yes, precisely."

"No!"

"Jackpot!" a third voice yells.

*Later*

I see Jake come outside.

"What is he doing? He's supposed to be a hostage," Kendick says in rage and marches over to him.

"I knew this wouldn't go well," I mumble. They talk for a few minutes and Kendick makes his way back over to us. However, before he reaches us, Peralta does the thing I prayed that he wouldn't.

"Hey y/n! It's been a while, hasn't it?"

"What do you want, Peralta?"

"To talk."

"We'll talk later, once the drill is finished."

"Fine." And with that, he walks back inside. All eyes are on me.

"You know him?" Kendick asks.

"High school."

"We'll try and use it to our advantage then. Lure him out and we'll get him. But first, you need to get a sausage pizza and some gasonex."

"Ok?" I leave after that and head to the nearest Papa John's.

"Hi, can I get a sausage pizza please," I ask the cashier.

"Of course. Is that all?"

"Yes."

"$15 please." I give them a twenty dollar bill.

"Keep the change."

"Thank you, your pizza should be ready in at most 10 minutes."

"Thank you." 10 minutes should be enough time to quickly grab some gasonex, especially since there's a CVS next door. I quickly grab and pay for it, heading back for the pizza. Luckily, it's ready so I pick it up and thank the cashier.

I arrive back at where we're based, I see that the NYPD are here, but they don't see me, so I put the pizza on a car and hide so they don't see me. I have a plan. I wait for everyone to take each other out, until there's supposedly only Jake and Kendick left. They seem to be having a conversation, when I get up secretly and aim. Then I notice that the NYPD are about to say something to Jake and I hold my finger up to my lip and motion that I'm gonna get Kendick. Just as I see Kendick start to pull his gun out, I shoot, killing him.

"What the heck? Who shot me? You're all out!"

"Correction. They're all out. I'm still in."

"y/n? Why are you on their team? You work for Homeland Security."

"Yeah, but you were prejudice and, frankly, a bit of a dick."

"Whatever, let's go. Everyone. I need to talk to the losers." I roll my eyes at his comment.

*Back in the hall where they had the briefing*

"Interesting tactic, detectives. Show up at your first inter-agency drill and mess the whole thing up," Kendick says, seeming quite pleased with himself.

"Less of a tactic and more a series of incredible events," Jake quips.

"And what was the most incredible event... was it screwing up the entire drill in it's many years of being run in front of all your friends?"

"Pfft, I have other friends."

"Who?" questions the man next to Jake.

"I knew it was a dumb idea to invite the NYPD to a federal drill."

"Shut up, Kendrick. People provoked them, and you under mimed them by giving them the role of hostages or, as Jake's vest now says, hos. Of course they weren't going to follow the rules. Everyone was a prick to them. Plus, they still took out pretty much everyone. Next time, if people aren't so prejudice, maybe they'll follow the rules," I point out.

"Oh, there won't be a next time. But maybe I'll see you at the Pentagon Christmas party. Oh right. You guys aren't invited to those. Kid Rock was there. Those were my last words, bro." He walks away, full of pride.

"I'm sorry about Kendick," I say to the NYPD squad after he's out of earshot.

"What did you just call him?" Jake asks.

"Kendick. He may be my superior, but if he fires me, his superiors will fire him. I can talk at him with whatever attitude I want. After all, I'm the top agent at Homeland Security. Look, Jake, I'm sorry you didn't get him yourself, but he was about to John McClane you."

"Don't worry. Today's been a total win. I haven't checked my phone in forever. Now that I've said that, I do kinda wanna check it though. I'm gonna just do it." Jake pulls out his phone. "No text. But, I'm probably 20% less devastated than I would've been this morning and that's thanks to you guys." Jake suddenly realises something and lets out a small gasp. "I catharted."

"You catharted hard," says the muscular guy next to me.

"Break up?" I whisper to the guy next to me.

"Yup."

"Ah. That's rough."

"Jake arrested her boss because he caught him doing cocaine. And she was a defence attorney."

"A cop dating a defence attorney?! That's brave."

"Yeah. They were quite cute together though."

"Hey, y/n. Let me introduce you to the squad."

"Wait. You're y/n? As in y/f/n that Jake went to high school with?" the guy next to me asked.

"Yes. Did you know he had a nose ring?"

"Oh my god, did he actually? I'm so holding that against you, Peralta," a woman with long, curly hair laughs.

"If you don't mind me asking, why did you two break up?" the other woman asks.

"We both got really stressed and took it out on each other with loads of petty fights. It was quite stupid. And these were very petty fights. Like, we took it to a whole new level," I explain.

"Yeah, I think they get it y/n/n. Anyway, this is Detective Rosa Diaz, Detective Amy Santiago, Detective Charles Boyle and Sergeant Terry Jeffords."

"Hey, what about us?"

"They're Hitchcock and Scully."

"Nice to meet you guys. You all seem close. I wish I had that with my co-workers. I've only got one actual friend here. Plus everyone is a snob who looks down on literally anyone who doesn't work for a federal agency."

"Sounds awful," Jake inputs.

"It is. But I like my job and they won't let me transfer anywhere else, so I'm stuck here. Fun. Anyway, I'm sure you have stuff to do, I won't stop you. Go when you want, but I'm gonna stick around a while." Everyone disperses, some going into small conversations, some going to a vending machine and others dong other stuff.

"Hey, y/n. Can we have that talk now?" Jake asks.

"Sure." I look at Charles and wait for him to leave.

"Charles, I meant in private. Could you maybe talk to Amy and Rosa for a bit?" Jake asks, realising that Boyle's still here.

"Oh, right. Sorry," he apologises, going to talk to the girls.

"So, what do ya want?" I ask.

"To start over."

"Pardon?"

"We ended our relationship in an awful way, but I think we could be good friends now."

"So do I."

"However, I just got out of a relationship so, no matter how hard it is, you can't fall in love with me. Yet." He sends me a playful wink.

"You've not changed, have you, Peralta?"

"Of course not! I'm still that awesome. Only, even more so now that I've gotten rid of that nose piercing and awful haircut."

"You looked like an emo, not gonna lie. What would happen if I hit the g-note on a piano?"

"What would happen if I hit the g-note, title of your sex tape." I roll my eyes.

"This is gonna be an amazing friendship, I can already tell."

"Yeah, friendship."

"Hey, y/n, is that you?!" a voice says from across the room. I look to see who it is. Ah crap.

"How many of my exes are cops, bloody hell," I mumble. "Hey Brian. What d'you need?" I ask, a fake smile plastered on my face.

"I was wondering if you wanted to catch up over a meal? As a date, maybe?"

"Why would I go on a date with you? Especially since you cheated on me. Besides, I have a boyfriend."

"Oh. Who?"

"Me. I'm their boyfriend," Jake announces, obviously sensing my desperate need for help.

"Oh, come on. You can do better, y/n. He's from the scum bucket."

"1. Don't ever say that about the NYPD and 2. I'm good thanks. He's better than you ever were."

"Doubt it. And if he truly is your boyfriend, prove it."

"I don't have to prove anything to you, you--" but I get cut off by a pair of lips on mine. I kiss back, after about a second of shock. I pull away shortly after and turn back to Brian. He's just stood there in shock. "Now get out of here before I kick you where the sun don't shine, Brian!" He scrambles out of the room, now shocked and scared.

"How did he become a federal agent?" Jake asks.

"His dad is head of the ATF. That's literally the only reason."

"Oh."

"And thanks for doing that, but you didn't have to, really."

"It was nothing. I was just trying to be a good friend. Yeah. A good friend."

"Ok, yeah. A really good friend." My comment is then followed by an awkward silence. "So. How's life?" I awkwardly laugh.

"Fine. You?"

"Strange." Another awkward silence. "I'm gonna go, I need to work," I awkwardly announce, trying to find a way out of the situation.

"Sure, yeah. We should get going too. Bye."

"Bye." That has to've been the most awkward conversation of my life. I have no idea what my new 'friendship' is gonna hold but I'm scared.

#brooklyn99 #brooklyn 99 #jake peralta #jake peralta one shot #jake peralta imagine #jakeperaltaoneshot #jakeperaltaimagine #imagine #oneshot #xreader #jakeperalta #jake peralta x reader #jakeperaltaxreader

[ghostbustermelanieking]

POV! Also I’m currently watching B99 lmao great minds

Things grow a little awkward when the waitress leaves, Mulder tearing at a corner of his napkin as he looks down at the tabletop. Scully clears her throat awkwardly, and decides to check her phone. Her mom usually checks in around this time.

There's a text from her, actually—to Scully's surprise, since her mother isn't a fan of texting, but she's gotten used to using an app to easily communicate with Bill in Germany. Scully immediately starts to respond, clarifying to Mulder, “Sorry, just heard from my mom.”

“Is everyone okay?” Mulder asks from across the table.

“Yeah, she's fine. Just wanted to check in on me,” she says, typing her response with ease. Her mom wants to know how the case is going; she's asked about Mulder several times. “She misses Bill; he's off in Germany on assignment,” she adds, “and she's been taking it hard. Says she misses seeing Matthew. He used to fly up a couple times a year before they left, about a year ago.” She bites her lip a little at that; she knows her mom has taken Matthew being gone hard, in the aftermath of losing William. She doesn't like to dwell on it, but she knows that William remains a sore subject with her mom even to this day.

“But we try to keep in touch,” she adds quickly, in an attempt to get her mind off of this. She realizes that she's nearly babbling in an attempt to fill the silence; she wonders if Mulder is thinking about William, too. “We have dinner a couple times a week. I'll probably call her tonight.”

“I'm glad you two are still close,” Mulder says as she finishes her message. She nods, putting her phone back down. Mulder is looking at her now, the napkin crumpled between two fingers, and the awkwardness is palpable again. He's chewing at his lower lip as if thinking; he says, “You were really good with Robbie today.”

It's a statement that's equally awkward to the silence between them, but Scully isn't as hurt by it as she once might've been. She smiles a little before she answers. “He was cute, wasn't he? Sweet kid. Kind of reminded me a little of you, isn't that weird?”

Mulder looks a little surprised—probably, Scully assumes, because he didn't expect to get compared to a six-year-old. But the truth—and he probably knows this—is that Robbie reminded her of William, and therefore Mulder by default. She feels silly, but she doesn't say anything.

Mulder swallows a little before saying, “Is it the proclivity for ghost stories?”

“That must be it.” Scully smiles at him, almost involuntarily, but it's a nice feeling. She remembers suddenly that half the reason they're even on their case is because of William, because the last case was too difficult for them both. She's hesitant to tell Mulder what she's thinking—she must be hurting, too, and she barely even knows if it's a good idea for the two of them to discuss their long lost son—but it's coming out before she can stop it. “You know, he kind of reminded me of William. Or, you know… who William might've been eight years ago.”

She's half expecting him to react badly, to withdraw, but he doesn't do either of those things. He just says, “Me, too.”

“It's hard not to imagine the person he could've been—the person he would've been,” Scully says, feeling like she should stop but finding herself unable to. “It's hard to think about, but sometimes I can't help it.” Mulder’s expression is unreadable, and she begins to feel a bit sheepish; she looks down at her hand, parallel to her phone on the tabletop. “Is it the same for you?”

She can feel Mulder looking at her, watching her carefully, but she doesn't sense any anger from him. Just the same sadness that the two of them have shared for years. The heavy burden of their son. He admitted that he thought about William, and she wonders if it's the same way that she does: the three of them living in their house together. She wants to ask him, but she doesn't know how.

For a few beats, she's tempted to take his hand.

“Yes,” Mulder says finally, a confirmation she almost didn't need but that she finds reassuring all the same. “It is.”

no excuses writing meme