Let's do some "we shouldn't be doing this" things

Prompt: “watch me” from this list.

Teen & Up || Fluff, UST, tipsy Scully, Early-ish season || 1990 words

On AO3

My Fictober 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16

~:~:~

Right around 9pm, she passed the line—or more accurately, tripped over it, from delightfully tipsy to drunk.

Having both agreed, after a tough year—several of their cases in which one or other of them had been maimed and/or nearly killed—they went to the staff Christmas Party.  Together.  It was Mulder’s idea. Scully, more hesitant. Truth be told, it was a perfect excuse for Mulder to see her outside of work. A ready-made ‘date’. Though he would never dare call it that.

Aside from cursory greetings to other agents, they spent most of the evening, heads close, chatting above the music. At first, about case files, then the conversation morphed to more personal topics, evolved steadily, with their growing drinks tally.

A few hours in and Scully returned from the ladies with a glint in her eye and two shot glasses. There was a determination about her as she placed the drinks on their table.

“Okay,” she declared, “let’s get drunk.”

Thank you! You can find my original tags and the post that inspired this ficlet HERE. Imagine the beginning of “The Unnatural” had gone slightly different… tagging @today-in-fic

(I borrowed heavily from the actual dialogue. Sorry, DD.)

Saturday Games

Maybe it’s because of the way Mulder looks ather. Or maybe it’s much simpler than that; maybe it’s just because it’sSaturday. Or… or maybe there is no reason at all. All she knows that her nonfatTofutti rice dreamsicle starts it all.

“I bet the air in my mouth tastes betterthan that,” he says, returning his attention to the large book in front ofhim. Scully takes another bite, cherishes the taste on her tongue. She licksher lip, watching him.

“Well, I don’t know,” she says,“I’d have to try it. For comparison.” She takes another bite to stop her heart from pounding. Mulder turns to her, doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t have to. His face sayseverything.

“You want to…”

She shrugs. “You know how much I like proof.I bet that my nonfat Tofutti rise dreamsicle tastes better than the air in yourmouth.” Her eyes flit to his lips briefly before she brings them back upto meet his. There’s a challenge there. 

“All right.” He gets up and for amoment she forgets that she’s standing on boxes. Mulder catches her before shefalls, his hands firmly planted on her hips. He leaves them there, doesn’t moveat all. Their bodies are close, much closer than she anticipated and she giveshim a sheepish smile, her cheeks warming from embarrassment.

“So how do we-” She should have knownthat he doesn’t need to think about it. No rules. No hesitation. His mouthlands on hers and in her surprise, she gasps, opening her mouth. That’s all theinvitation Mulder needs. His tongue plunges inside and tangles with hers. Shetries to keep a clear head, to not lose herself in Mulder’s touch, in histaste. That’s what it’s all about. His taste. But she can’t think. His mouth onhers feels perfect; it feels right. She’s never felt so hungry. She wants more.Needs more.

Then, just as quickly as the kiss began, it’sover. She licks her bottom lip, needing to taste the last trace of Mulder. Hewatches her, his eyes full of hunger. His pupils are dilated and Scully iscertain that hers are, too.

“What’s the verdict?” he asks, soundinghoarse. They’re still standing close. He’s still holding her.  Scully doesn’t know what happened to thedreamsicle. It might have melted in her hands, or on the floor. She’d beenlooking forward to that treat all morning. Now she’s had a taste of somethingmuch, much better. And she’s still very, very hungry.

“You were right,” she says, keeping hervoice calm and steady. As steady as she can, anyway. “The air in yourmouth does taste better.”

He beams at her, leaning in again but she knowsthey can’t do this. Not here, not now. Saturday or not, this is still theiroffice. When his lips almost touch hers again, she stops him with her words:

“So Mulder, now that we’ve established thatyou were right, care to enlighten me why we’re here in the basement on thisprecious Saturday? What do you hope to find in these New Mexico newspaperobituaries for the years 1940 to 1949?”

He doesn’t step back. His face is close, hislips are closer. “Looking for anomalies, Scully. Do you know how manyso-called "flying disc” reports there were in New Mexico in the1940s?“

"I don’t care, Mulder,” she says andmeans it. She should have just eaten her dreamsicle in peace. “This is aneedle in a haystack. These poor souls have been dead for 50 years. Let themrest in peace. Let sleeping dogs lie.”

“Hm, hurling clichés at me, Scully?”His voice sounds just like his kiss tasted. She shudders, wanting more.“Preparation is the father of inspiration.” The words land smack onher lips and her mind is slow to catch up.

“Necessity is the mother of invention,”she says weakly. Mulder is everywhere. His mouth, histouch, his words.

“The road to excess leads to the palace ofwisdom.”

“Eat, drink and be merry, for tomorrow wemay die.”

Finally! Set in season 7. Tagging @today-in-fic

“It’s always been you.”

Cramped in economy class, 35.000 feet up in the air, is not Mulder’s idea of fun. Except. With precision and care, he turns his head to the side. There’s Scully, fast asleep with her head on his shoulder. Feeling the gentle weight of her against him, knowing she trusts him this much, makes him forget where they are and that his legs are too damn long.

Lately, he’s been sleeping more himself. Better, too. Who knew that the key to blissful sleep was botched brain surgery? He grins at his own joke and turns to Scully, momentarily forgetting that she’s sleeping blissfully, unable to read his thoughts. His own mind is quiet. Almost too quiet. He watches her, wonders how she’ll react once she wakes up. Will she smile at him? Will she apologize?

In the past, when their partnership was still so new, she always blushed after waking up, quickly moving away from him while mumbling an apology. Truth is he’s never minded, not even in the beginning. But where are they now? One look at the screen in front of him and he knows where they are geographically. He wishes there was a screen, a script, anything that would explain to him where they are emotionally, and with each other.

by: mldrgrl Rating: PG Summary: Set somewhere in season 7, Mulder and Scully intend to spend their first weekend apart after taking the plunge.

“So, I’ll see you Monday,” Scully says, folding her blazer over her arm and adjusting her grip on her satchel.

“Yep,” Mulder answers, nodding slightly as he leans back in his chair.

They stare at each other.  He taps the eraser-end of a pencil against his jaw.  Going home for a weekend, alone, is different now.  Though they spent seven years going their separate ways, three weeks of spending nights together has made saying goodbye feel awkward.  

He wants to kiss her, even just on the cheek or the corner of her mouth, something friendly and casual, but he knows he won’t be able to stop at that, and so he keeps himself firmly planted in his seat.  He can’t help it if his gaze drops to her lips.  He also can’t help but notice that she does the same.

“Okay then,” Scully says.

“Have a nice weekend.”

She gives him one last glance over her shoulder as she walks out the door and he sighs quietly when he hears the elevator ding.  Mechanically, he prepares to leave for the weekend.  Though he told her he’d be staying to finish a report, he’d merely been avoiding walking out with her, knowing how weak-willed he was and he’d look for an excuse to keep them together for the night.  

... for cookies!

It's November which means cookie giveaway! If you love cookies (and Christmas) as much as I do, like, reblog or comment and you might win some!

On November 16, I will pick 3 winners.

As always, you also get an exclusive fanfic cookie 😎

To give you an idea what the cookies look like:

And this year, FOR THE VERY FIRST TIME, there will be these cookies too:

Yes, Mulder and Scully! Also, aliens, UFOs, foxes... and more.

I ship internationally, so everyone is welcome to join.

Let's spread some joy and eat some cookies!

Day 23

Mulder isn’t picking up, and Scully is tired of calling. Takes place right before season 10. Angsty. Inspired by the Adele song, Hello & a conversation with a friend very late last night.

Tagging: @today-in-fic, @baronessblixen, @greycoupons, @megdoesart, @purrykat, @contrivedcoincidences6, @mypanicface, @wndrlst42, @postmodernpromartheus & @monaiargancoconutsoy

Dedicated to the lyrics anon. I love when anyone sends me prompts.

———

“You’ve reached the voicemail of Fox Mulder. After the tone, please leave your message.”

Scully let out a disappointed sigh as she hung up her phone. She stared at the sleek interface.

‘A fancy phone for a fancy girl,’ Mulder had said to her the day she showed him. She wanted to kiss him then. Instead, she snapped his picture, and assigned it to his contact card.

And now, she found herself in her apartment, staring at her phone, and watching as the screen dimmed, and then shut itself off. She put the phone on the couch, and let out a heavy sigh.

(1k words, tagging @today-in-fic)

Part I │Part II│Part III│Part IV

Whoops some of these are old sorry anons I lowkey didn’t realise desktop tumblr has an actual functional page for the inbox unlike the wreck that is mobile notifications (I may have also accidentally deleted a few trying to respond individually sorry). Anyway, thank you all so much!! These messages all make me ridiculously happy <3

Part V

“Mulder, I have to go,” she urged, tugging at his hand.

“Where do you have to go?” He stooped so he could see her face, her serious, icy eyes.

Her eyebrows creased, puzzling whether he was trying to be funny or was actually that stupid. Her mother often gave him the same look.

“The toilet.” She frowned at him and began shuffling from one foot to the other.

Oh.

Shit.

When Dana asked him to watch her four-year-old for the afternoon, he was thrilled. They were at a stage where he ate dinner at Dana’s at least once a week and accompanied them on family outings semi-regularly. He and Dana spoke, or at least emailed, every day but until now he had not spent time with Emily alone.

Today was a prime opportunity to bond.

He loved kids. And normally kids loved him back. Emily, however, had not immediately warmed to him and he was clueless how to negotiate around that. Much of their early relationship was spent with her head buried in Dana’s neck, refusing to acknowledge his questions and jokes.

He liked to think he was growing on her. Like her mother, she took genuine pleasure in bossing him about so that was what they spent most of their time together doing.

Except that was always in the safe presence of Dana. And Dana had been called last-minute to oversee a very important and delicate surgery. And Dana’s mother was visiting Big Brother Bill on the West Coast. And Mulder was, of course, of course, free to babysit on a Wednesday afternoon (because he immediately cancelled his lectures for the day, but Dana did not need to know that).

In honor of the Je Souhaite anniversary, here’s a lil’ post Caddyshack smut for ya. This is one chapter in a larger work, I’ll link below.

Je Souhaite

(2000)

“I don’t know if you noticed, but I never made the world a happier place.”

“Well… I’m fairly happy. That’s something,” she replies honestly.

They relax on his couch, another grueling case finished, Caddyshack insisting upon them in the background. When he tells her he used his final wish to set the jinni free, it doesn’t surprise her at all, but she does laugh at the cheesiness of this whole thing. He puts his arm around her and pulls her in close, kissing the top of her head.

“Give me a break, all right? It was the right thing to do.”

Of course he’d use his final wish to set her free. It was such a Mulder thing to do. Her, on the other hand…

“I can think of a few things I’d have asked for,” she admits.

“Like what?”

She knows Mulder blew his first two wishes trying to achieve world peace. And she can’t be selfish when it comes to these things, especially after the little speech she gave him earlier about not attempting to fix the world’s problems with a single wish. But thoughts of her infertility, thoughts of all the terrible things that have happened to them both can’t help but invade her mind. To be able to erase so much with a simple wish… the thought is tempting, however unrealistic.

She’s starting to believe some way, somehow, none of it was even real at all, anyway. It happens to her occasionally.