guess who deserved better

Hahaha, woah.

Let’s do this XD

msr/ s7 / new relationship

He’d read enough erotic poetry and tired romantic prose to know everything running through his mind in this moment was cliche.

The first time they’d made love, the moonlight streaming through his blinds was the only thing illuminating her body. It’d felt unreal at the time - and the blue haze they’d been cast in made her seem ethereal. A fantasy come to him in the night under the visage of a bare Dana Scully.

But it had been real. And it was happening again.

It was still nighttime, like the last time, but the glow of her bedside lamp filled the room far more effectively than the moonlight and left no room in his mind for doubt that she was here in front of him, baring herself to him in the most intimate way possible. 

With the light, he felt like his world had exploded in Technicolor. Now visible to him was the pink flush across her chest, then her stomach as he kissed his way down it, the blue of her eyes as she watched him with a hooded gaze, and the red of her lips as she bit them while giving him permission to part her thighs.

What he hadn’t been able to see last time was this.

And he currently wasn’t able to ignore those cliches that were making the truths of themselves known before his very eyes.

The once forbidden fruit lay ripe before him, glistening so brightly he couldn’t help but lick his lips and her juices ran onto her thighs. At times the metaphor of a peach had seemed lasvicious, as if women were meant to be consumed, devoured. But the way her blood rushed to her labia and made it swell with a pink hue, he realized the comparison was fitting as something so succulent deserved to be savoured. 

He could smell her arousal from his proximity and it was what stirred him to action. Sweet as a peach.

He raised his hands to rub up and down her illiac crest before sliding towards her red curls. Her breasts hitched with her breath as he started touching the areas where elastic had been a mere ten minutes ago. Keeping his fingers on the tendons of her thighs, he moved his fingers to part her lips and look at her more.

It was like he was looking at a Georgia O’Keefe painting. Velvet petals for lips, her bud resting swollen and red at the crest. She parted her legs furthur and it was like a flower blooming before his very eyes.

“Mulder,” he heard her call breathily.

He tore his eyes away from her sex and locked eyes with her. “What are you doing?” she panted, easing herself up on her elbows to look at him. Her arousal was evident in every way possible, but it didn’t hide the gleam in her eye that he hadn’t truly seen since he was with his first love in her parent’s basement. The look that seeked reassurance and validation. The look that feared not getting it.

The look that reminded him this was their second time making love and he’d spent the last five minutes staring at her crotch while mentally comparing it to romantic poetry.

He wasn’t about to recite the Ode to Scully’s Vagina he’d just written in his mind. So instead, he settled on, “You have a beautiful vagina.”

She cocked an eyebrow at him before letting her face fall into her shoulder as she giggled. “What? You do,” he laughed, placing a kiss on the inside of her bent knee.

“I’m sorry. Just ‘you have a beautiful vagina’ seem so strange and formal for the man with so many tapes and 1-900 subscriptions,” she teased playfully, seemingly completely at ease from his compliment.

He looked back down at one of his new favorite body parts of Scully’s and thought about all the tapes, the calls, the words he’d heard used in locker rooms by other men who weren’t bestowed with the absolute gift of Dana Scully parting her thighs. Words so crass and ill-fitting of the pure trust she was giving him that the thought of using them made his tongue burn. 

But if she wanted him to get a less technical, he’d get less technical. 

“Dana. Katherine. Scully,” he started, punctuating each name with a kiss that led his mouth closer and closer to where they both wanted him.

“Y-yes?” she replied, her voice strained as he blew a stream of cold air straight onto her. 

“You have a beautiful pussy,” he told her before tasting her.

and for some reason I couldn’t get it out of my head, and so here is my first, AND LAST (because I think it was a shitty plot move and I’ll forever ignore it) Mulder-Scully breakup related fic. 

Pumpkin Bread.

She left in the late fall. Said something about a new job in the city, and she didn’t want to commute. And after years of being cooped up in the same house, surely they both could use a little space. But she’ll be back soon. She promised to be back soon. Just take care of yourself.

For her first visit back he made pumpkin bread, not having the energy to drive all the way into town. There was a box mix of questionable age in the back of the cupboard.

For years it was the best part of fall for them, just slathering butter on a slice of Maggie’s bread and curling up on the sofa together watching Halloween movies. He’d be lying if he said it wasn’t partially to entice her back into their home. Okay. Mostly to entice her. In all honesty, he probably put far too much pressure on it turning out absolutely perfect for her visit. Which was how he ended up on the floor of the kitchen, covered in pumpkin puree and flour, tears rolling down his cheeks out of defeat and exhaustion as he stuck fork after fork into his creation, only to find the middle still mushy and a border of charcoal quickly working its way towards the center with each five minute stint in the oven.

She found him with bloodshot eyes chipping burnt bread off the pan.

Seeing her, for the first time, standing in the doorway, he felt conflicted. On one hand, he hated the fact that she’d left, that she’d been just another perfect thing in his life that vanished within a matter of time. On the other, he couldn’t believe she’d stuck it out so long. And he couldn’t believe that she was back. Even if it weren’t for very long.

In her arms was not the duffel bag or moving box he was hoping to see, but a bag from a bakery in town. She set it softly on the counter as she advanced towards him and reached out to pull him into her arms. Whether it was out of exhaustion from cooking or the numb misery that followed him constantly, he couldn’t help but sob loudly into her shoulder in a way parallel to the night following his mother’s death all those years ago. And she held him tightly, wordlessly, for an eternity.

When they finally broke apart, she stepped towards the sink behind him, and filled the pan with warm, soapy water and let it sit.

“I’m sorry, I burned it, Scully,” he mumbled to his feet, not knowing if she could hear him.

“Don’t worry about it, Mulder.” He felt her hand squeeze his shoulder, reassuringly. “I actually brought my own.” She began rifling through the bakery bag. “We think alike.” She glanced up and caught the first smile he gave in months.

They laid together on the couch until long after the sky outside darkened. Mulder ate most of the loaf of bread she brought, covering every piece in copious amounts of butter. When he caught her staring as he did so, he asked, “what?”

She shook her head, smiling reassuringly. “Nothing. I was going to say some health-related thing about butter and carbs… but it’s just good to see you eating.”

He gave her a small smile, hopefully conveying that he *was* getting better. But he didn’t say anything. He could tell she knew.

“I probably should… ” her voice drifted off, not completing the sentence he dreaded hearing all night.

“Okay.” There was a tightness in his chest.

“Can I come back next weekend?” “It’s your house.” That was sharper than he’d hoped.

Her voice was soft when she responded. “Well, I’ll be back next weekend.”

She reached over and squeezed his hand. “I left another loaf of the pumpkin bread in the fridge. I know you like it.”

And with that she was gone.

He laughed for the first time in the snow.

A heartbreaking year later Scully could still hear that innocent giggle as his pudgy hands tried to grab the fat snowflakes falling from the sky.

It had been a perfect morning. She’d gotten an email from Mulder assuring her of his safety, and she’d decided to take William for a walk through the park.

Rarely did she take him out alone, she often begged John or Monica to accompany her just in case, but that day she decided to go just her and him.

There was no snow predicted on the forecast, it was far too early in the year but it must’ve been something like global warming or aliens that made it snow.

An older woman had stopped to fawn over the baby, gazing down at his perfect, chubby face. Normally, William was a show-off around people. He’d smile, clap, let anyone hold him who wanted to. Even as early as it was in his life, his resemblance to Mulder was uncanny. But that day, when the snow started, he didn’t stare or smile at the woman, just gazed past her head at the fat snowflakes that fell to rest on his nose.

After the woman had continued on her way, Scully pulled the stroller to the side of the path, and pulled William out to sit on the bench.

And that was when she heard him laugh. It was soft at first, but then it got to be a louder, full belly giggle as he pawed at the snowflakes as they dropped more frequently.

The two watched the snow for a while, William curled against his mother’s chest, wrapped in the space blanket that his father’d sent in an unmarked package. At the thought of Mulder, Scully immediately wished she had a camera with her. Actually, she wished she had Mulder there with her to see it for himself. But the next best thing would be a camera that she could at least record that beautiful smile William was giving to the snow.

A year later, when the snow started again and she was reunited with Mulder, she wished even more desperately that she’d had a camera.

By the time they got home, William was asleep, exhausted from the excitement, and Scully responded to that email from Mulder. She told him about their little guy and his first laugh. How “he looked exactly like you.” How that star and planet blanket is the only one that makes him comfortable anymore.

Three days later another unmarked package showed up on their doorstep. A single snowglobe. The cursive on the bottom said it was from some place called Dragoon, Arizona. It gave her a little peace of mind to know that Mulder was safe and thinking of her in and the baby somewhere out there.

In the coming months and years, she hoped her son would grow up feeling the same. That they were always thinking of him, even while they were apart.

When she parted ways with their son, there was no laughter, no showing off, not even a smile on his part. It was as if he was destroyed at the thought of losing her as well. And then he was gone. With him, a bag of objects. A hideous doll. That space blanket. The first snow globe. For Scully, all that was left of her son was that laughter, once out of pure happiness that now haunted her.

The next year, when the snow started again she sat tucked in the passenger seat staring out at the hundreds of houses passing by, any one of which could contain her son. They stopped at a gas station in a tiny town. Along with the sustinents they bought, Scully picked up a tiny snow globe. A couple, a brown haired man and a red headed woman, waved from inside the glass. She bought it as well.

When she and Mulder stopped for the night, they found the nearest post office and mailed it to the adoption agency with a letter pleading them to give it to their son. And so became the tradition of sending snow globes.

By the time they met again, William towered above her just as his father did. They were given a tour of the house their son had grown up in. Met the people who raised him. Tearfully flipped through photo albums. He had the same, distinct smile that had been etched in Scully’s memory for fifteen years. His laugh was much deeper, but if she concentrated, it was undeniably the same as the one that played in the back of her mind.

Their tour concluded in the room that belonged without a doubt to the child of her and Mulder. Science posters covered the walls, pictures detailing the awards at school he’d won. Space seemed to be the theme, and Mulder nearly was sent to tears when he saw a familiar, but graying blanket folded over the foot of the bed.

But Scully was drawn to the desk by the window. It was littered with snow globes and there were more scattered over the window sill.

“I kept them all.” William noticed her staring. “It was you who sent them right?” All she could do was nod.

“I don’t know…” he spoke in a delicate voice. “I guess I just liked knowing that you were out there somewhere thinking of me.”

She felt Mulder’s arm around her shoulder to comfort her as tears managed to escape down her cheeks.

Sensing a need for a happier topic, William reached down and picked up one. “Did you guys really go to Oregon?”

Mulder grinned. “Yeah… actually a couple times. That one’s kind of a long story.”

William looked between them with visible curiosity. “Can you tell me about it? Or is it one of your FBI secrets?”

Thank you so much for sending this! I’m so sorry about how long this has taken me (😬 ) but here you go! [side note: i’m 99.99% sure that I’m got the right prompt for 68, but I can’t find the original post to double check so if its not right, I’m sorry!]

68: One time they were short on gas: 

(early season 4)

He’d been driving down this particular dirt road for the better part of two hours, hoping it would soon turn into pavement and he’d have some sense of where they were going. The fuel gage on the car was creeping closer and closer to “E”, and for about the fifteenth time since midnight, Mulder was kicking himself for letting her talk him into this.

“We can make it in one trip, Mulder. No need to stop for the night.”

Said optimist was currently asleep in the passenger seat, arms folded into her chest as she leaned against the window.

Every twist and turn looked the same as the last, and Mulder couldn’t distinguish hardly anything in the darkness. They were going to run out of gas soon. The boat they were driving got twenty to the gallon, but it didn’t take long for him to realize the guy at the Bureau auto pool was overestimating.

“We can make it in one night.” 

Sure, he’d said. One night. Did that include hitchhiking and walking back to DC, too?

His eyes were briefly taken off the road as the yellow light dinged on the dashboard. Well, that’s the gas.

He reached over and turned off the radio, scrounging for any hope for the battery holding out. Those four extra yards will really do us some good.

The road opened up a little, and he could make out a little sidebar to stop briefly, so he pulled onto it.

“Scully,” he whispered, reaching one hand over to gently shake her arm.

“Mmmph…”

“Scully, we’re out of gas, wake up.”

Her blue eyes opened halfway, giving him a sleepy glare. “What?”

“We’re out. This junker ran out of gas.”

She blinked hard, her eyebrows furrowing as she took in the situation. “Why didn’t you stop?”

“We’ve been on this road for a while, I think we got the map wrong.”

“No gas stations?”

“No gas stations.”

She sat up, and reached into the glovebox for the map.

“So, the last town we were in was Canton?” he nodded. “And the shortcut over to Springfield that guy gave you was this road?” she ran her finger along a little black line.

“Yeah.”

She started talking through a yawn. “Which is called ‘Branson Way’- have you seen any roadsigns?” He shook his head. “Well, I don’t think we got on Branson Way.”

He chuckled. “Really?”

Despite the darkness he saw her roll her eyes. “I think,” she squinted at the tiny print on the map. “We probably took Route 213 instead. Its a lot longer with nothing out there. Plus the turnoff was right by the one for the other road.”

“Great, so how far are we from… anything?”

She squinted again at the map. “Probably not far, but I can’t really see,” she reached up to turn on the light, but it wouldn’t go. “Shit.” They groaned in unison, as Mulder tried the engine. It made a sound like a dying cat with a hairball.

They sat in silence, taking in their situation. Mulder took out his cell on a whim, but even in the darkness he could see it said ‘no service.’

“Wanna start walking?” he asked, partially legitimately.

She tiredly shook her head, and leaned heavily against the door.

“Well, I think either we wait here until someone comes along, or we walk a little ways and see if we can make it to the next town.”

Scully inhales deeply and pulls her coat tighter. “I vote wait for someone.”

He reached down and cranked the window open slowly, letting the cool mountain air drift through the car. He felt himself leaning heavier and heavier on the door and forced himself awake.

“Scully?”

“Hmm?”

“I’m going to sit outside so I don’t fall asleep. I wanna see if anyone comes.”

“Okay,” she said, her voice fading.

He reached over and slid the map from where her hands pinned it to her lap. He climbed out of the car and onto the hood, hoping he wouldn’t dent the car. Despite the yellowy glow the moon had that night, he could barely make out more of the map than in the car, and after squinting for a few minutes, he gave up and slipped it into his pocket.

Minutes turned into an hour and besides the rustle of trees, he was surrounded in silence. He didn’t know if Scully had continued to drift off to sleep until he heard the car door open shut, interrupting the silence in the best way.

“Hi,” he said, quietly.

“Mind if I join you?” she asked, softly, pulling her jacket tighter around her.

“Never,” he blurted out. “Are you cold?”

He didn’t even wait for a response, already shucking his coat off his shoulders.

She climbed up next to him, opening her mouth to decline the coat, but then shut it and took it bashfully.

“Thanks.” She pulled his coat around her shoulders, and in the process slid impossibly closer to him on the hood.

He’s gone native.

[Commission]

I know that I’ll be fine.