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gubsbuubs · 6 days

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ok so i’ve been thinking what about jake peralta with bimbo!reader that does not work with him so the team doesn’t know that that is his girlfriend so when she comes to visit him they are confused as to who she is looking for

this would be amazing if you did it and thank you for your time love your writing girl 🩷🎀

Is this so hard to believe?

Pairing: Jake Peralta x BimboFemale!Reader

Word Count: ~ 1.4K

A/N: English is not my first language - My requests are open!

"Can you hold it, please?" Her sweet voice pierced through the precinct lobby, each click of her heels resonating sharply against the floor. Rosa's hand instinctively reached out to halt the elevator doors, her brows knitting together in profound confusion as the woman who called for the hold emerged before her.

"Thank you so much," she purred, gracefully gliding into the elevator. The visitor pass dangled around her neck, a stark contrast against her pompous attire.

Rosa stepped aside, allowing her entry, and as she crossed the threshold, a heady wave of floral perfume enveloped the confined space. The dress she wore clung to her curves like a second skin, and the lace detailing added an air of delicate femininity. Rosa couldn't help but wince as her gaze trailed down to the woman's footwear—a pair of pink stilettos that defied reason with their towering height.

"You must be Rosa," she cooed, extending her hand in a gesture of greeting.

Rosa met her gaze, momentarily taken aback by the sincerity in those glossy lips, now curved into a dazzling smile.

"Yeah... Rosa Diaz," she replied, her voice carrying a hint of skepticism as she clasped the girl's delicate hand. It felt as though she was holding something fragile, something crafted from porcelain rather than flesh and bone. Her nails, impeccably manicured, added to the illusion of perfection. "I'm sorry, do we know each other?" Rosa asked.

"Oh, no, not officially at least," the woman replied with a melodious laugh, "But you work with my boyfriend, and he talks about you all the time. My name is Y/n."

Rosa's confusion deepened at the mention of a boyfriend. Not that she made a habit of keeping track of all her colleagues' significant others, but she couldn't shake the feeling of incredulity that someone on her floor was dating this woman, especially someone close enough to discuss Rosa with their partner. "I'm sorry, what? What boyfriend?"

Y/n's laughter tinkled through the air like wind chimes on a breezy day. "My boyfriend," she repeated, as if Rosa hadn't heard her the first time. "I was just shopping down the block, and I decided to come here and visit him and meet his detective friends."

Rosa's mind raced as she tried to piece together the puzzle. Detective friends? That meant it had to be someone on the team. Jeffords was married, so he was out of the picture. She swiftly ruled out Hitchcock and Scully as the potential boyfriend, despite their divorced status; there was no conceivable way it was one of them. Boyle, well, he was more than happily involved with Vivian.

Her eyes widen as she realizes, "You are dating Peralta?!" Rosa exclaimed in disbelief.

"Ding," Y/n laughed, mimicking the sound of the elevator as it arrived at their floor, affirmatively answering Rosa's question. "Although…. I prefer to call him Jakey," she added with a playful gleam in her eye, her excitement palpable as she eagerly made her way out of the elevator and into the bustling bullpen.

"Hi everyone!" she exclaimed in a loud and cheerful voice, causing heads to turn in her direction.

Already headed in their direction Terry stopped in his tracks at the sight. "What the..." His words trailed off as he took in this random woman's appearance, her bright smile and infectious energy catching him off guard.

"I'm sorry, miss. Are you lost?" He asked, his confusion evident as he glanced at Rosa, who appeared behind Y/n with a massive, amused smile adorning her face.

"Oh my god, HI!" Y/n said, extending her hand to greet him. "You must be the big, badass Sergeant Jeffords."

Terry extended his hand, still searching for the right words.

Before he could respond, Rosa stepped forward "Sergeant Jeffords, meet Y/n, Jake's girlfriend,".

"Jake Moore? The evidence technician?" Terry's confusion deepened.

Rosa couldn't help but laugh at the absurdity of the situation.

"No, silly, Jake Peralta, the detective," Y/n clarified with a playful smirk, lightly smacking Terry's arm. "Wow, Jakey did say you're really strong."

Terry blinked in astonishment, finally connecting the dots. "What? Really?" he asked in disbelief, his voice tinged with incredulity.

Suddenly, a man approached them, his smile beaming as he extended his hand to greet Y/n. "It's so great to finally meet you. My name is Boyle, and..."

"You're Jake's best friend," Y/n interjected, a knowing gleam in her eye as she shook his hand, cutting him off before he could finish his introduction.

Boyle's expression lit up with surprise and delight at being recognized. "Yes, that's me!" he exclaimed, unable to contain his excitement.. "Wow, Jake never mentioned you were coming by today. This is such a pleasant surprise!"

"Did you know that Jake had a girlfriend?" Jeffrey asked Boyle, his tone filled with genuine curiosity as he glanced between Boyle and Y/n.

Boyle's eyes widened in surprise at the question. "Yeah, he's always talking about her," he confirmed, his tone tinged with disbelief. "Even this morning, he mentioned they went on a date yesterday. Do you guys not listen to a single word he says?" Boyle shook his head in indignation, clearly baffled by the apparent lack of attention his colleagues had paid to Jake's conversations about his girlfriend.

"Wait, you're Y/L/N? The model?" Santiago's voice interrupted from behind Boyle as she joined the conversation, her eyes widening in recognition as she addressed Y/n.

Terry and Rosa exchanged incredulous glances as Santiago's words sank in. They had all heard Jake mention dating a model at some point, but every time he attempted to introduce her to the team, she was mysteriously unavailable. As a result, they had developed a theory that Jake didn't actually have a girlfriend and that it was just another one of his elaborate jokes.

"Hi there! You're Santiago, right?" Y/n offered her hand with a big smile. "Yes, my name is Y/n Y/L/N, but I wouldn't call myself a model."

"I'm sorry to be so direct, but is this a prank? Did Jake pay you to do this?" Amy asked, her tone cautious as she tried to broach the subject delicately, not wanting to sound disrespectful but finding it hard to believe that this woman standing before them was Jake's girlfriend.

"Amy!" Boyle exclaimed in disbelief at the accusation, he couldn't believe that anyone would think Jake's girlfriend was part of a prank.

Rosa, meanwhile, was holding her stomach as she laughed so hard at the entire situation. The absurdity of it all, combined with Amy's skepticism and Y/n's genuine confusion, was just too much for her to handle.

"I can assure you, this is not a prank," her voice tinged with amusement. "As much as I appreciate a good joke, Jake didn't put me up to this. I'm here because I came to visit Jakey and wanted to meet all of you."

"Well, Jake left to follow up on a lead, but knowing him, he'll probably be back before we know it. Do you want anything? Coffee, water?" Terry offered.

"Oh, no, thank you so much, but I'm fine, Sergeant," she replied politely, her tone soft and gracious.

As the conversation continued, the elevator doors suddenly opened, and Jake stepped out, his presence commanding attention as he entered the bullpen.

His eyes lit up with surprise and delight as he spotted Y/n standing among his colleagues.

"Hey, everyone!" Jake exclaimed, a wide grin spreading across his face as he made his way over to Y/n. "What's going on?". He squeezed Y/n's side gently before leaning in to greet her with a kiss, "I didn't expect to see you here sweetheart”

"I was just in the neighborhood and thought I'd drop by to say hi to you and meet your amazing team," Y/n replied. "I've heard so much about all of you, and I couldn't resist the opportunity to finally put faces to names."

"Well, guys," Jake said with a playful smirk, addressing his team with a twinkle in his eye, "now that you've met her, do you finally believe that my very real, definitely not imaginary, girlfriend exists?"

The team chuckled, nodding in agreement, and exchanged sheepish glances.

Santiago couldn't resist one last attempt at humor, her curiosity getting the better of her. "Are we sure Jake didn't pay her to be his girlfriend?".

"Dammit is this so hard to believe?" Jake asked as he wrapped an arm around Y/n's shoulders.

—xx—

@dilflover-3

#jake peralta x you #jake peralta x reader #jake peralta #b99 #jake peralta fluff #b99 imagine #brooklyn nine nine

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atths--twice · 25 days

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Germs and All

After attending a conference, Scully falls ill. Not wanting to be alone, and missing Mulder, she heads to his apartment.

I've been fighting through a cold the past few days. As a result, I've had extra time on my hands as I've been resting. Because of this, my mind wanders to MSR more than usual. I love stories where they take care of each other and so, I've written this little fic.

Hope you enjoy. 💓

Scully woke up, her mouth dry and nose stuffy. Groaning, she rolled over and glanced at the alarm clock before closing her eyes in the gray light. Opening her eyes again, she looked back at the clock as she drew in a breath.

11:30.

It was eleven thirty?

Sitting up, she looked around the room and then picked up her watch to be sure the time was correct.

11:30.

“Oh, God,” she whined softly as she fell back onto the pillows, sniffling deeply. “How is it so late?”

Rain hit the windows and she sighed as she sat up again and laid her watch back beside her half drunk cup of tea. Pushing herself up, she groaned again, her body aching.

Stumbling to the bathroom, she used the toilet, washed her hands and brushed her teeth. Staring at her reflection, she sighed and made a face before turning off the light and leaving the room.

Shivering, she grabbed the comforter off of the bed and wrapped it around herself as she groaned again and opened the bedroom door.

Pausing just past the doorway, she looked to her right and saw Mulder sitting on his couch, smiling at her.

“Hello,” he said and she frowned with another groan. “I take it you’re not feeling better.”

“It’s eleven thirty,” she complained and he nodded, glancing at his watch.

“Nearly quarter till twelve now,” he said and she whined.

“Why did you let me sleep so long?” she asked, kicking the comforter back from her feet as she walked over to him.

“Let you?” he asked with a chuckle, as she sat on the end of the couch with a huff and then laid down, her head resting against his thigh.

“I’m tired,” she complained, letting out a deep breath. “And my nose is stuffy.”

“I know,” he said, his fingers rubbing her head and running through her hair. “Well, about the stuffy nose anyway.”

“I slept all night. How am I still tired?” she whined and he chuckled again.

“You have a cold, Scully.”

“Mmmm,” she moaned with a frown. “This is all Skinner’s fault. I didn’t want to go to that stupid conference. He made me.”

“Hmm,” Mulder hummed, his fingers rubbing her neck.

“That feels good,” she whispered, her eyes closing.

“Skinner wasn’t sick,” he mused and she sighed heavily.

“No. But someone there was and I got it from them. You didn’t go, so you’re fine.”

“I won’t be in a couple of days, seeing as you brought all the germs with you. This place is ground zero now. The bedroom in particular is highly contaminated.”

“I know. I should’ve gone home,” she admitted with a nod. “I just…”

“I was just teasing,” he said, his thumb pressing firmer into her neck and causing her to moan. “I’m glad you’re here.”

“Even though I’ve…” She sniffled deeply and let out a deep breath. “God. Even though I’ve brought the plague upon you?”

“It’s just a cold,” he said, laughing softly.

“Feels worse.”

“You say that every time you’re sick.”

“Because it does. It always does,” she whined, breathing through her mouth as her nose had become far too stuffy.

“I’ll get you some medicine,” he said, scratching her scalp lightly and moving gently from the couch. “You want anything to eat?” She moaned and shook her head. “Tea?” She shook her head again and he chuckled softly. “Okay, just the medicine.”

She nodded as she burrowed into the comforter, finding a more comfortable position.

A kiss was pressed to her temple and she smiled.

“Even full of germs, and wrapped like a mummy, you’re adorable,” he whispered, kissing her again before he left the room.

She smiled and then coughed, groaning as she shook her head. The comforter was pulled even closer and she took a stuffy breath.

“Hey,” Mulder said and she opened her eyes. “Here’s the medicine and some water. You need to sit up to take it and the cough syrup.”

“I hate cough syrup,” she grumbled and he hummed as he helped her sit up.

“I know,” he said, handing her the syringe in his hand.

“You like using this, don’t you?” she asked, putting the syringe in her mouth and pressing the plunger, swallowing the medicine quickly. Making a face, she took a sip of the water he offered.

“I do. I’m glad you gave it to me,” he said, smiling as he handed her two large liquid filled pills. “These should help too.”

She took them and placed them into her mouth, swallowing them with the rest of the water in the glass. Pouting, she handed the glass back to him and then coughed, turning her head to avoid coughing directly on him.

“I’ll get you some more water,” he said as she coughed again. She laid back down with a moan, cursing that stupid conference.

It had been monotonous, uninspiring, and lonely without Mulder with her. And then the last night there, she had felt the telltale signs of a cold brewing as her throat was scratchy when she swallowed.

Waking up to a stuffy nose and achy body, the flight home had been miserable. Hailing a cab, she had given the driver Mulder’s address, closing her eyes as she rested her head against the window.

When she had made her way to his door, her suitcase feeling exceptionally heavy and clumsy, she swayed as she knocked twice and waited.

His happy smile had vanished at the sight of her, concern quickly replacing it.

“I don’t feel so good,” she had said, pitching forward and falling into his arms.

“Aw, Scully,” he had whispered, pulling her and her bag inside.

He had brought her into his room, turned on the shower to warm up, and helped her undress.

While she had been in the shower, he had changed his sheets, found some clothes for her to wear, and made her some tea.

When she had dressed in one of his long sleeved shirts and a pair of cuffed sweatpants with the drawstring pulled as far as it could go, he had sat her down on his bed and blown her hair dry as she moaned repeatedly, her eyes closed.

When he had finished, he brushed her hair and kissed her on the forehead.

“Why don’t you lay down and I’ll go get you some medicine?” he had asked and she had nodded. “Come on, come and lay down.”

He had helped her up and led her to the other side of the bed, pulling back the covers and then tucking her in once she had laid down, her head pounding.

“I’ll be back soon. Rest.” He had kissed her head twice, ran a hand down her side, and whispered goodbye as he left.

He had woken her to take some medicine, sitting with her until she had fallen back to sleep, stroking her hair as he spoke quietly about his last couple of days without her.

She had woken throughout the night, his arm around her waist or fingers locked with her own, her nose stuffy and head still aching.

“Hey,” he said softly and she opened her eyes, looking up at him. “Do you want some more water? Luckily, I found a bendy straw so now you don’t have to sit up.”

“Hmm,” she hummed, nodding slightly. “I’ll have a little bit. Thank you.” He sat on the coffee table and held the glass and straw for her as she took a few sips.

“Feeling any better at all?” he asked and she sighed as she pulled back from the glass of water.

“Not at the moment,” she said, closing her eyes and sighing again.

“Well, hopefully that medicine will help soon. I brought over another box of tissues and a paper bag for the used ones. Do you need anything else?”

“No, not right now. Thank you,” she said, attempting to breathe through her nose and giving up to take a deep breath through her mouth. “I’m just so tired.”

“Rest, Scully,” he said, kissing her temple again, the glass of water set on the coffee table.

And she did, dozing in and out as he sat on the couch beside her, his fingers in her hair or resting on her shoulder. She heard baseball being announced, the crack of a bat, and organ music playing. Then she heard the dialogue of a movie as she turned over and sighed, the comforter tucked around her when she did.

“Thank you,” she breathed and he hummed as his fingers rubbed her scalp again and she fell back to sleep.

Her bladder woke her and she moaned as she stirred, extricating herself from her comforter cocoon.

“I ordered some food,” Mulder said as she stretched and rolled her neck. “Matzo ball and chicken noodle soup. Waiting for you, whenever you’re ready.”

“That sounds good,” she said, her voice hoarse. “Not sure how much I’ll be able to eat.”

“I know. But you haven’t eaten anything all day. You need something.”

“Okay. I’ll be out in a few minutes.”

When she came out of the bedroom, she was wearing one of his hoodies, as she had lost the warmth of the comforter. She had also put on a pair of his thick socks and pulled her hair back into a small ponytail. Yawning, she padded to the dining room and sat down.

A small bowl of matzo ball soup had been placed at her spot, the spoon resting inside of it. She smiled at the sight of the cut up matzo ball, making it easier to eat. Glancing up, she watched him walk in with his own bowl of soup and a plate of sliced bread.

“You cut my matzo ball,” she said with a sniffle as she reached for her spoon.

“Yeah, I did,” he said, setting his stuff down and sitting beside her. “Easier and quicker for you to eat.”

“Thank you,” she said, filling her spoon with broth and a piece of matzo.

They sat in silence as they ate, Scully taking her time to eat as much of the soup as she could.

“I can’t taste any of this,” she said, shaking her head, leaving her spoon down in the bowl. “Not one bit, but I’m sure it’s really good.”

“It is,” he said and she nodded as she pushed the bowl from in front of her.

“I’ll take your word for it,” she said, watching him finish his bowl of soup. He smiled at her and she smiled back, suddenly overwhelmed with affection for him. “I love you.”

He stopped eating and stared at her, his smile growing.

“I know I’ve told you before, but I just wanted to say it again,” she said, sniffing and letting out a deep breath.

He set his spoon in his bowl and made to move towards her, his hands reaching out.

“No,” she said, putting up a hand. “Contagious, remember?”

“Ground zero, remember?” he asked, his hands now cradling her face as he smiled. “The damage has been done. Therefore, a kiss on the lips won’t cause any harm.”

“Hmm,” she hummed, closing her eyes as his lips met hers.

He kissed her gently, his thumbs slowly rubbing against her cheeks as she hummed again. Needing air, she pulled back slightly and drew in a breath, before his lips were on hers again.

“I love you too,” he whispered, kissing her one more time. Smiling as he pulled back, his thumbs stroking along her cheeks. “Germs and all.”

“Ha ha,” she said, opening her eyes and looking at him. “Ugh. I think I need to lay down.”

“Yeah,” he agreed, moving his hands from her face. “Let me clean this up and get you some more medicine. Then bed.”

She waited at the table for him as he quickly cleaned up. More cough syrup and pills were brought to her along with a glass of ice water. She took it all with only minimal complaints, thanking him with a nod.

“Come on. Let’s get you to bed.”

He led her through the apartment, turning the lights off behind them. He grabbed the comforter and followed her into his room.

She went into the bathroom, used the toilet, washed her hands, and brushed her teeth.

Mulder had put the comforter back on the bed and pulled back the covers on her side once again. Waiting while she laid down, he tucked her in and kissed her head.

“Be right back,” he said and she hummed as she closed her eyes.

When he finally laid down, she was nearly asleep, but she opened her eyes to look at him and give him a small smile.

“Thank you for taking care of me,” she whispered, closing her eyes as she reached for his hand.

“That’s why you came here, isn’t it?” he asked softly, kissing her knuckles. “Knowing you were ill? Wanting to be cared for?”

“Yes and no,” she said, moving closer to him.

“How’s that?” he asked and she opened her eyes again.

“I missed you. I wanted to see you,” she said, her eyes rolling back as she shut them again. “I didn’t plan on being sick. I just missed you.”

“I missed you too,” he whispered, pulling her close. “I’m glad you came over.”

“Germs and all?” she asked, her words slightly slurred.

“Yes. Germs and all,” he assured her, kissing her forehead and whispering his love for her as she fell asleep, held safely in his arms.

#the x files #xf fanfic #msr #sickfic #taking care of your partner #common cold #conference away #sleeping late #Sleeping on the couch #tired and achy #medication #chicken soup #matzo ball soup #season 7 #established relationship #comfort food #forehead kisses #gentle kisses #sleeping together

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catholic-character-tournament · 10 months

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Quarter Finals - Catholic Character Tournament

Propaganda below ⬇️

Wolfwood

I love him. Man who has no faith in himself or humanity or god with so much blood on his hands, fighting for something he knows he can never see come to fruition in person. He carries his own literal cross and grave marker on his back. Just… he’s so iconic to me.

I'm sure I'm not the first to submit him. But I did it anyway. I hope he wins and I'll do anything in my power to make sure he does

Dude is literally a priest who carries around a giant cross. Yes he uses the cross to murder people but that is besides the point. Also he has a mini church he carries around for on-the-go confession services.

hes literally a priest(hes not a priest in the reboot but he is in the original and thats what matters to Me). he carries around a cross that is actually secretly a gun with guns inside that gun. he runs a church/orphanage. he carries around a portable confession booth and charges people money for it because he is broke as fuck. he dies bleeding out over an alter begging to god for forgiveness he doesnt think he deserves. he is everything to me.

look at this man he's a priest with a cross shaped gun that (spoilers) dies against the side of a church while waxing poetic about life and redemption (/spoilers), this is the Catholic ever.

Wolfwood is liiiiiterally Judas coded in the text. AND his weapon is a massive cross that turns into a machine gun and a LASER. Not to mention his religious trauma. Oh baby. The religious trauma.

Homeboy literally walks around with a giantass 300lb machine gun shaped like a cross called the Punisher. Hes a priest/undertaker depending on what version of trigun you reference. Grew up in a church orphanage. Also literally walks around with a portable confessional box for people to pay to confess to him. Need i say more.

HE IS LITERALLY JUDAS. he is literally leading the jesus allegory to his doom. hes also in love with the jesus allegory (vash). he is also carrying arouns a giant cross rhat is also a gun. hes literally catholic and judas and his tits are perfect. in one piece of official art he's wearing a cross choker. also the catholicism on gunsmoke is about making vash submit. wolfwood looking at that pathetic wet mess of a man oh i can make him submit easily.

He literally carries around a giant cross and is referred to as a priest by multiple characters. also he offers people confessionals

He carries a huge machine gun that is in the shape of a cross that is really heavy (he is strong) and his boobs are huge. So you know hes serving cunt in a god honoring way. Also in trigun 1998 he brings around a small chapel that he uses as a portable confessional and in trigun stampede he holds funeral services as an undertaker which are way overly priced. Also he dies very gayly (basicly confessing his love to his best boy friend forever)

Nick's funny bc he's probably the least Christian acting guy but is literally a preacher. There's a running gag with Vash asking some variation of "what the hell kinda churchman are you?" His gun is a gigantic cross. He rides a shitty motorcycle in the middle of the desert.

ok so thematically the main conflict in trigun is about peace vs violence and its represented by the characters vash and knives respectively. the two aren't /technically/ angels but thematically and through imagery they are and are comparable to michael and lucifer specifically. ANYWAYS. vash and knives are the characters who are constantly pushing and pulling at wolfwood's morality, sort of like a "the devil and god are raging inside of me" kinda deal. his grappling with his morality and faith is a big factor in his character. also he has a giant fucking gun shaped like a cross. and he dies in a church while praying.

Bros an orphan who grew up at a Catholic orphanage and taken away to be trained and genetically changed into a supercharged assassin for interworldly beings that have lots of angel imagery attached. Guy thought he was just going to be taken to become a missonary...instead he got 6 years of religious trauma. He still wears a cross necklace and holds it often. His gun is a literal cross "full of mercy" (its a missile launcher). He never really believed fully in the faith or anything, but the way he interacts with it is FASCINATING. He's jaded by the planet he lives on and his upbringing, and makes him say his most iconic quote: "We're nothing like God. Not only do we have limited powers, but sometimes we're driven to become the devil himself." He prays to a God he doesn't know if he actually believes in, asking for another day— for hope for the human race. The organization hes part of (The Eye of Michael) works for an interdimensional otherworldly being that has an incredible amount of angelic metaphor and imagery attached who intends to purge the planet of humans... and ends up siding with that guy's twin brother who is so Jesus coded it's insane. They are best friends even as Wolfwood is acting under instructions to babysit and watch him for his twin brother. He dies after facing down against his old mentor (named Chapel) and his pseudo brother from the orphanage who was taken into the Eye as well and his Jesus bestie buries him and sticks his cross-gun in the ground after losing his shit crazy style and using his pseudo alien angel Jesus powers to lash out at his brother for being the cause of Wolfwood's death. Rest in peace king

via @latinotiktok

Dana

in a world of monsters and paranormal activity and alien conspiracies her faith is still important to her and I love her for it (well. that and many other reasons)

She’s a doctor but quit to become an FBI agent so she ends up just doing autopsies on people who died to ghosts or aliens. She is usually super factual and a huge skeptic, but she has repeated crises of faith and has to go to church to chill out. She feels guilty about everything constantly. Her family members remind her to be more catholic and then they end up dying and then she feels even worse. She gets abducted by aliens.

Most of her character arc revolves around struggling to square her faith with a) being a heavily skeptical scientist b) aliens being real (something she resisted very strongly on the grounds that she’s a skeptical scientist) c) being abducted and getting pregnant and nearly dying as a result of said aliens being real. Struggles with this so much that she’s in the confession booth like :grimace: especially because her investigative partner Mulder is a) an atheist b) believes in aliens just as strongly as she believes in Jesus

Refuses to believe in aliens because there’s absolutely no proof for it but then spends a whole ass episode trying to convince Fox “Aliens abducted my sister” Mulder that angels are real and can cause miracles. The sheer quantity of scientific qualifications she has only to turn around and say she wholeheartedly thinks biblical angels are 100% legit

#cct polls #tumblr tournament #tumblr bracket #tumblr polls #polls #r6 #nicholas d. wolfwood #trigun #trigun maximum #wolfwood #trigun wolfwood #dana scully #the x files #x files

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muldermuse · 5 months

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Plus One (Fox Mulder X Reader)

This is based on an ask I recieved <333 thank u for sending it through

Scully is unable to attend an event so Fox asks you to be his plus one.

“It means a lot that you’re coming tonight, I’ll uh- I’ll pick you up at your apartment at 6? Have a chat about the mission in the car and then go from there…I’m looking forward to seeing you…Scully said your dress looks good and you know that she knows more about that stuff than me *laughs*. Um, okay well this is a long voicemail so uh-right, I’ll see you in a few hours. Oh! This is Fox by the way.”

It definitely was not your usual practice to have a glass of red wine before getting ready for a mission but you had to admit that you felt nervous about tonight. It was standard for Mulder and Scully to do something like this. To get intel about a case, they’d dress up and rub shoulders with people unknowingly involved in an X File. Sometimes they’d pose as a couple and other times they would pose as two singles trying to seek out a partner for the evening. They would collect as much intel as possible and within the following weeks; the case would undoubtedly be solved.

This was a huge case so Scully was in another state, sleeping in her car to avoid the bed bug-ridden motel that Skinner had put her up in. Fox was too nervous to ask you so you got a call from Scully late last night. The key contact Fox had been trying to speak to about this case was attending a Gala in Washington. The contact was old school, any guest to the Gala had to have a date for the evening, and of course; it was a black tie event. You were reluctant and Scully knew you would be. “Listen, if you want to fly out and take my place in this crappy rental car, which stinks of fries for some reason- I would thank you for it. But, you’ll have a great time and I know you have that black dress that you’re looking for an excuse to wear…”.

So here you are, pouring a large glass of red wine and listening to the Spice Girls as you try to focus all your nervous energy into applying your make up and curling your hair. You slip your dress on at quarter to 5. The dress was expensive and it looks it. It’s black and shimmering under the fairy lights strung over your bookshelf. It’s hugging your curves, it’s hiding any insecurities and you have to admit- you look amazing. The remaining wine in the glass slides down your throat and gives a final rush of adrenaline. Fox knocks at the door at exactly 6 o’clock.

***

He's wearing his glasses. That’s the first thing that you recognize. Not the bouquet of flowers tightly clutched in his fist, not the perfectly tailored suit or the nervous expression covering his face.

“You’re wearing glasses, I’ve never seen you wear them outside of the office.” You smile at him and he smiles back but he seems distracted. He doesn’t reply for a few seconds and as the awkward energy fills the air; he thrusts the flowers towards your hands.

“Yeah, I think they make me look smarter” He awkwardly laughs. “These are for you...obviously…you usually have peonies at your desk on special occasions so I thought you’d like them.”

“They’re beautiful, I didn’t realise that you noticed stuff like that. Maybe you’re a better agent than I suspected Fox” you wink as you go back into your apartment and place the flowers in the sink with some water. You take the moment with the faucet running to compose yourself.

God.

He looks so fucking good.

The nerves that have slowly dissipated over the past hour are suddenly back without warning. He looks so good- do you look alright? Oh god, are you not dressed up enough? Does he think you look okay? I bet he wishes that Scully was here right now, you could potentially jeopardise this entire case and you know how hard they’re both working on it.

You’re too lost in your own thoughts to hear Fox cross the room and place a warm hand against your lower back. The tension zapping through your body streams out with a deep exhale.

“I have a car waiting downstairs, we should probably go”. He holds his arm out for you with a grin and he guides you downstairs. He holds the car door open for you. Whilst you have a moment alone; you whisper to yourself an affirmation that tonight will go well.

You have no idea that Fox is doing the same thing.

***

Fox has liked you for a while and he suspects that this occasion is all Scully’s doing. There was no real reason for her to travel to Wyoming, it was some anonymous call which Fox completely doubts the validity of. When it comes to the X Files and his career, Fox is a ‘do-er.’ He wants to get out there, prove the importance of his work and save lives.

However, when it comes to his relationships. At the minute, Fox is less active.

The moment he saw you smiling; you had never been far from his thoughts. Scully struck up a friendship with you through a mutual love of the same sandwich served a local deli. Fox would sit in on your lunch dates together, he’d always try and make you laugh- feeling an immense sense of pride when he did.

Scully had disclosed to him her feelings on your boyfriend, Jason. You had so much love to give and he seemed to be the opposite. Closed off and cold. Scully told Fox you’d been arguing more and were getting close to breaking up. When you did, Fox watched from afar as your usual bright smile never reached your eyes.

***

The car ride is filled with idle chat. The tension in the air seems to mount as you both try desperately to ignore it. Fox tells you about the Gala and what to expect. It’s more of an occasion to scope out the group rather than to gather intel on a specific target.

You don’t realise that as the car drives closer to your destination that your knee begins to bounce and your fingers fidget with the tassle on your handbag. Fox rests his hand on your knee and his thumb rubs calming small circles on your soft skin.

“You look amazing, thanks again for doing this.”

Before you can thank him or compliment him back, the car pulls to a stop and the door opens.

***

The room is grand and glamourous. It’s a decadent affair with rich red velvet curtains and carpets decorating each room. The different perfumes and aftershaves blend together to create a sweet floral scent that lingers as every person passes. It’s a crowd of black tuxedos and billowing ballgowns, everyone smiling politely with a clear hint of judgement to every passerby. The sound of the band is lost over the exchanging of pleasantries and the distinctive pop of champagne corks, followed by a polite cheer.

It's completely unlike anywhere else you have ever been or anywhere you are likely to ever go.

“I think I’m the poorest person in here by about three million dollars, Fox”

“Oh no, it’ll be way more than that,” Fox says with a wink as he hands you a glass of champagne. He moves in close enough to whisper to you and you try to ignore the sensation of his breath fanning your neck.

“See that guy over there with the red suit, he has a huge interest in extraterrestrials. It’s massive so much so that he spends around five and a half million dollars a year trying to prove they’re real. He’s got that much money it’s basically a game.”

The bubbles of champagne trickle down your throat as you move closer into Fox’s hold. He holds your waist and rotates you to look at another corner of the room. His breath remains hot on your neck and you’re not sure if it’s the alcohol coursing through your veins or his presence that is making your head feel fuzzy.

“That lady over there with the huge hat, like, ridiculously big hat.” You nod at Fox without taking your eyes off her. “The Lone Gunman guys suspect that she gets all her money from selling UFOs that crash, on the black market. She only leaves her guarded house three times a year and this is one of the occasions.”

“Suspect? So it could be something completely different.” You smirk up at Fox, he grabs another two glasses of champagne from a passing waiter and hands one to you. “Who knows, maybe she makes her money selling really big hats.”

“Or maybe, the reason her hat is so big is because it’s broadcasting a message to a UFO flying over Washington”. His grin matches yours.

You clink the glasses together and without the other knowing, both of you acknowledge the butterflies fluttering in your stomachs.

***

Neither of you speak to anyone else, you find a quiet corner tucked away in the hall room and chat. You sip on a glass of wine and Fox holds a tumbler of whiskey but both drinks go warm as you get lose in the conversation with each other.

It dawns on you that before tonight, you’ve never really spoken to Fox as it’s usually a group environment or a passing hi-goodbye as you both make your way home at the end of the day.

He tells you about his family, he tells you about his favourite cases and more importantly than all of the things he’s saying to you- he’s present with you the entire time. Conversations with your ex were one sided and that was something that took months to admit. You realized your relationship with Jason was over during a conversation. You’d just got the promotion that you’d spent months working on and he asked one simple question that felt like a knife to your pumping heart.

“When were you going to tell me about that promotion?”

You had told him; of course you had. You’d told him when you first heard about it, you’d told him the planning you’d spent weeks organizing and you told him the morning of the interview.

He hadn’t heard any of it.

You’d been together over a year. You had met each other’s family, met each other’s friends, you’d fallen in love and within that conversation; you realized how far from love you both had fallen.

The big band music was gradually playing louder and louder. You’d both been straining to shout over it to keep the conversation going. Eventually, you realized a way you would be able to hear Fox better, you grabbed his hand and pulled him onto the dance floor.

***

The music was soft, flowing through the air as the lights began to dim slowly and the illuminated table decorations filled in the dark spaces. You placed your arms around Fox’s shoulders as his large hands slid down to your waist. Your heart was beating the steadiest that it had all night.

“How did you know about the peonies? I’ve never told you or Scully about that.” Your hands remained interlocked around his neck as you fought the urge to run your fingers through his hair.

“Well, I know your birthday and you had peonies on that date. When you got that promotion, you had peonies, and when uh…yeah, you have peonies.” A nervous look flashes across his face. You know what he was going to say.

“When I broke up with Jason, someone in the office got me peonies and left them on my desk. It was the only thing that made me smile that week”. The memory still makes you emotional, the week was relentless sleepless nights and non-stop crying. On the last day of the week, there was a gorgeous bunch of peonies in a vase on your desk. No note, no name- nothing.

His hands tighten around your waist as he rests his forehead against yours, “I’m glad you liked them…it was hard to see you look so sad”.

Of course it was him.

It always was.

It always is.

Before you can carry on speaking or stop the tears trying to fill your eyes. He tilts your chin to meet your eyeline with his thumb and forefinger.

“I don’t think I’ve told you how beautiful you look tonight or thanked you for this…I mean thanked you properly."

You place your head against his chest and wrap your arms around his waist, continuing to sway to the music; you hear him take a breath before carrying on.

"I've liked you for a while and god, does that sound childish to say. This means a lot to me and you being here means even more. I'd like to take you out, I can't always promise it will be this fancy...actually, I can guarantee it never will be but I want to spend time with you. In any setting, I possibly can."

He doesn't look at you and you don't look at him. It felt like a confession he needed to make but perhaps didn't have the confidence to say it to your face. Which is amazing to you because Fox Mulder doesn't strike you as someone who struggles with anxieties.

"I think this place is a bit too fancy for me, maybe we can chat more at the 24 hour diner near my apartment? I think we'll look a bit different from the usual patrons" You gesture at your black gown and his tuxedo. He smiles as he takes your hand and leads you to the exit.

Before you get back into the car, you press a kiss to his lips and thank him for the evening. For the entire journey to the diner; you hold each other's hands tightly.

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cecilysass · 22 days

Text

Shine On (8/16)

Read on AO3 | Tagging @today-in-fic

Chapter 8: is William okay

Farrs Corner, Virginia February 22, 2015 5:00 pm

The trip back to Mulder’s house is superficially quiet. There is the hum of the engine and a few polite words from the two adults in the front seat, who also occasionally treat him to concerned looks. But of course it isn’t really quiet for Jackson.

Scully’s thoughts and feelings are like some mixture of a thunderstorm and an orchestra in his brain, some pieces discordant and frightening, some beautiful, some just nonsensical, almost all overwhelming.

Sometimes he looks out the window and tries to limit all of the input down to only words, to just the part that is language. That seems more manageable, but it never entirely works. What emanates from her is never purely words. It’s always interrupted by jarring pops of some sharp emotion.

—maybe a neurological impact, which is something we should have him examined for oh god why didn’t I when he was a baby? I should have done it then, maybe I could have prevented something—maybe he can hear this, think about something else—so easy to depend on Mulder, too easy, so much his old self, looks so good, so happy, is he frustrated with how I am acting? just so obvious I’m such a fucking mess—William, back then I was such a selfish coward, oh no God think of his little baby face, his sweet baby smell, how could I, why did I, I should have—

He can’t stand it. He can’t stand listening to such a steady current of pain.

As they come into Mulder’s house again, Scully looks pale and withdrawn. She sinks down on the couch, wrapping her arms around herself and leaning her head back. Jackson can’t help but think of the last time he saw them both here, at this house, when Mulder and Scully were fighting two days ago. She seems so different now, like she belongs here. Like it’s her house, too.

He knows from both of their memories—and from what Mulder has said—that it was hers, that she lived here, too, for several years. That they had been together until relatively recently. Nothing either one of them has thought or felt really explains why they’re not together any more.

Mulder has carried in a square cardboard box with the bakery logo that Jackson knows is a birthday cake. Somehow, Scully hasn’t noticed it at all; she’s just so completely distracted. Mulder’s gone to set the box down in the kitchen. He calls out to them.

“Either of you want something to drink?”

Jackson and Scully, both on the couch, look up simultaneously. “No, thank you,” Scully says. Jackson shakes his head.

It doesn’t feel as bad as it did, right now. He still definitely feels it, the waves of feeling from her, but he thinks she must have calmed down. Or that she is making a conscious effort to quiet her mind and heart.

He’s still wondering if he can go hide in the guest room upstairs, discreetly trying to get as far away from her as he can, when her phone begins to buzz. She reaches into her pocket with a confused expression, as though she forgot she owned a phone. She lifts it to her ear.

“Hello?” she says. “Marco, hi.” She stands, walking away from the couch to a corner of the room, lowering her voice. “What? Why? What’s going on?”

Mulder walks back towards the couch, a glass of water in his hand, and Jackson doesn’t miss how his eyes sharply fix on her as he sits.

Marco? The single word from Mulder’s mind plummets through Jackson’s shine, weighted down with worry. Marco.

“What?” Scully breathes into the phone. Through her, Jackson’s shine receives a flood of images of a fancy house all … messed up, torn apart, drawers pulled out of dressers, papers scattered across the floor, windows smashed. “Oh my god.”

Mulder sits up straighter on the couch, his expression now one of concern.

“Yes, that’s—yes, that’s the thing to do,” Scully says quietly. Her eyes meet Mulder’s across the room for a moment, and then she looks away again. “Thank you for helping, Marco. And for letting me know.”

There is another beat while she listens. “No,” she says, and Jackson feels her conflict. “I don’t think I’ll go back tonight. I’ll stay here. At … a friend’s.”

Mulder stirs restlessly on the couch, crossing and uncrossing his leg, and even without focusing on him, Jackson picks up fragments of thoughts coming through from him: anxious, aching, wondering.

“Yes,” Scully answers on the phone. “Thank you. I’ll check in tomorrow. I really appreciate all of this.” She begins to walk back towards the couch. “Goodbye, Marco.”

Jackson and Mulder watch her as she steps over Mulder’s legs and sits wearily between the two of them on the couch, rubbing her temples. For a moment she doesn’t speak.

“You and I need to do a check of the grounds around the house,” she says to Mulder, sounding tired. “Are your security systems still up and running?”

“I turned them back on the night he got here,” he says. “Why? What happened?”

“My house has been ransacked,” she says. “It sounds like… someone was looking for something. Maybe information. Which means…”

“Someone knows he came to find us,” Mulder answers. “Probably someone is looking for him. And if they’re at your place, they’re probably eventually here, if not already.”

He stands up right away, reaching towards the spot in his jacket where Jackson already knows he conceals a gun.

“Do you have another weapon?” Scully asks. “I’d rather be armed if we’re going to walk the perimeter.”

“Yeah,” Mulder says, nodding. “Of course.”

Jackson watches them in awe as they get prepared, these dangerous former FBI agent biological parents of his. It’s hard not to feel a little impressed, although he’s also nervous.

He’s surprised by Scully’s feelings, and Mulder’s too, because they aren’t nervous. Not about this, anyway. For them, this is just something that needs to be done. His shine detects that hard, hot quality in Scully again. Inside she is glowing like a poker in a fireplace.

“Is your … house okay, Scully? All your stuff?” Jackson asks her before he can stop himself.

Scully had been loading a gun of Mulder’s, but she looks over at Jackson. Her eyes widen at his question, and he feels something lighter, something airy enter her.

“Yes,” she says quickly. “I mean, it will be. It’s a mess. Marco—my friend—he says he’ll call the police and straighten up a little for me.”

“That’s nice of him,” Mulder says blandly, turning his back to her as if to check out the window.

“It is,” she says absently. Her forehead wrinkles. “But I don’t think I should go back there tonight, in case it’s under surveillance. I assume I can stay here, Mulder?”

Jackson snorts, and both Mulder and Scully look at him, startled. He can’t explain the joke, which is obvious to him but apparently not to either of them. Of course she can stay here. Doesn’t she see that Mulder would have her stay here all the time, forever? It doesn’t seem like you would really need a shine to see that.

“Yeah,” Mulder says, his eyes cutting sideways at Jackson a moment. “Sure, no problem. As long as you need.”

Her gun now loaded, Scully looks down at her attire and bites her bottom lip.

“Do you think I could maybe … borrow some clothes before we go outside? This is an expensive sweater.” She grimaces as she looks at it, and Jackson’s shine takes in a series of images he doesn’t entirely understand: shoes with broken heels, torn dress pants, a blazer with a gaping bite out of it. Memories, he assumes.

Mulder nods, shrugging. “You know where they are.”

She nods, and turns to go up the stairs. Mulder sits back on the couch, examining his own weapon in melancholy silence. His mind is a particularly dark and twisty path, but Jackson can guess what he’s thinking about. He honestly feels sorry for him.

“Marco is her neighbor,” Jackson informs him impulsively.

Mulder looks up at him, his eyebrows raised.

“They, like, watch each other’s houses when they go on trips. She isn’t … in a relationship with him or anything like that. Marco’s married to a man named Joe. I could shine her memories and it was all, like, watering plants and small talk.”

“Oh.” Mulder nods, looking embarrassed. “Right. Yeah.” He bites his lip. “You don’t happen to see if there is someone in particular that she’s seeing…” He stops himself, shaking his head. “Never mind, fuck, Jackson.” He lets out a frustrated breath. “I’m way out of line.”

Jackson just watches him curiously, thinking of his friend Louis and his doomed crushes on girls. This isn’t the same thing, really, but Mulder isn’t as different from Louis as he might have thought. For such an old guy and for someone who was basically married to her, he doesn’t seem to know anything at all.

To his surprise, it’s almost like Mulder knows what he’s thinking, because he meets his eyes and smiles shame-facedly. “I guess I seem pretty hopeless.”

“If you don’t mind my asking, why aren’t you guys together anymore?” Jackson asks. “Why did you break up?”

“You can’t see that in her mind?”

“Not really,” Jackson says.

Mulder sighs heavily. “It’s complicated,” he says. “But I think part of it is that … sometimes I can be a tough person to love.”

Jackson thinks about that, tries to make it fit with what he has seen. “I don’t know,” he says. “That doesn’t really seem right.”

Mulder’s eyes meet his just as Scully thumps down the stairs, wearing an enormous hooded sweatshirt that says “Martha’s Vineyard” on it and some rolled up sweatpants.

“All right,” she says briskly. “Let’s do this.”

Mulder stands, nodding his agreement.

“You stay inside, right here on the couch, okay?” Scully tells Jackson. “Don’t move near the windows.”

Just in case of gun fire, she thinks. But don’t want to scare him.

Jackson lifts his eyebrows. “Got it,” he says. “I’ll lay low.”

It’s not until they walk out the door that Jackson realizes that he could have told them whether there was anyone else on the grounds. His shine can get a read on who is around, or at least whether someone is around and where they are. And right now, the only minds he senses nearby are Mulder’s and Scully’s, both of them popping and crackling with feelings and thoughts.

He stretches out on the couch, lying down and closing his eyes. He listens for any sounds outside. He can’t hear much with his ears. It’s quiet here at Mulder’s house.

In Mulder’s kitchen there’s the sound of a clock ticking.

Then a sharp slice of anguish. Of pulsing anxiety.

Mulder. Oh Mulder, no.

Jackson springs up on the couch, his body rigid.

There is the sound of a gunshot. Then another.

His heart pounding, he pushes out his shine desperately around him, feeling for either of them, confirming they are still there.

Is he okay is he okay is Mulder okay

Scully. Thank God.

Jackson wraps his arms around himself and rocks back and forth on the couch. They’re both alive, anyway. He feels overwhelmed with relief, and he’s not sure whether it’s coming from him or them.

William William William is William okay

Could anyone have gone inside? I didn’t see anyone. Is he okay? Is Jackson okay?

It’s like they’re both tugging on him, pulling hard on his shine to come towards them. Jackson doesn’t think. He just acts. He runs to the door and throws it open, and he sees them both, maybe thirty feet away, guns extended. They are staring back at him in the door.

“Stay inside, Jackson,” calls Mulder urgently. “Don’t come out.”

Jackson doesn’t listen. He runs outside, feeling an overpowering urge to be near them up close.

“Jackson, don’t,” Scully repeats.

“Who was it?” Jackson asks breathlessly, reaching them. “Who did you shoot at? What did they want?”

“A man,” Mulder says grimly, grabbing his arm. “And I’m not sure. Let’s go inside.”

Scully is looking all around them, her eyes scanning the area, her weapon still raised. “I don’t understand, Mulder. I know I hit him.”

Mulder’s jaw is set. “Yeah,” he says. “I think we’re lucky we weren’t in closer proximity, or his blood might have made us sick.”

Scully’s head snaps towards him. I didn’t think there were any left. I thought they had been killed off years ago.

“Inside,” repeats Mulder. “We need to get him back inside, Scully. Now.”

Scully nods her agreement. They take hold of each of Jackson’s arms and practically lift him off his feet into the house. Mulder turns to lock the door, then immediately crosses to his desk to start going through a drawer.

“Are you okay, Mulder?” Scully watches him, her body swaying slightly back and forth. Jackson can still feel terror pulsing off of her in tiny waves. For a moment there, he knows she’d really thought Mulder could be in danger. He felt her desperation. It’s exhausting to Jackson, the intensity of her emotions. He stumbles back over to the couch and sits down.

“Yeah,” Mulder says. He produces what he was looking for in the drawer, a tool shaped like a sharp spike. “I was looking for this. We may need it.”

“I thought the shapeshifters were long gone,” Scully says. “You think that’s what he was? Why?”

“Shapeshifters?” Jackson asks. “For real?”

“All I know is that you didn’t kill him,” Mulder answers Scully. “Despite a direct hit. And I thought … I thought I saw something green where your bullet hit.”

“If they’re still around, then who else is?” Scully asks in a tense voice. “Who’s coming after him?”

Mulder and Scully look at one another. Jackson’s eyes bounce back and forth between them. “I couldn’t sense him, with my shine,” he comments. “He was invisible to me.”

That gets their attention; both of their heads swivel to look at him. “Oh yeah?” Mulder says. “And that’s not something that usually happens?”

“No,” Jackson says. “It’s not.”

Scully’s eyes examine him, and Jackson again is hit by what he’s coming to consider her signature combination: fear and love, white hot steel.

“We should call Skinner,” she says in a quiet voice. She’s looking at Jackson but speaking to Mulder. “We need the X-files. We need to do whatever it takes to get the X-files back.”

***

Mulder and Scully sit at Mulder’s dining room table and talk on the phone to this man Skinner for a long time, maybe thirty minutes. He’s their friend, Jackson gathers, but also their former boss. And he must be someone they trust, because they tell him more than he would think they would, although not everything.

Jackson reclines on the couch for a while and listens, wondering if anyone will remember they need to eat dinner. He thinks of his house back home, of the regular meals, of his mom and dad across the table and their cheerful conversation about topics like the new Wal-Mart and who was going to win the World Series and how Jackson’s grades were. He wonders if these biological parents ever have normal conversations. If they ever do normal things like have Taco Tuesday.

Dinner seems unlikely to happen any time soon, so he decides to go up to the guest room. He could use a little privacy.

He kind of likes this guest room—the room that was supposed to be his, he reminds himself uneasily as he walks inside again.

It’s a small room with one window, a dresser, a bookshelf full of Mulder’s random books, and a single bed with a crisp navy and white patchwork quilt. The bed is messy—Jackson didn’t make it this morning. There is a book (Ghost Stories of Virginia) sitting on the pillow with a corner folded down to mark his place. Jackson picks it up again, flops down on the bed, and starts to read.

He hasn’t read for very long when he has the distinct sensation of somebody nudging at his mind. Like a poke at his shine.

It’s the weirdest feeling.

He lays the book down on his chest and blinks, trying to open his shine up to see what’s out there.

Tomorrow morning. Seven o’clock. Go out to the grove of trees behind the farm.

Jackson sucks in a breath. He can hear Rose’s voice, every word as clear as if she is speaking in the same room.

Make sure you aren’t followed. We can talk then.

Imperceptibly, Jackson nods his head, even though he knows she probably can’t see. His heart is thumping again.

She’s going to talk to him again. She’s going to help. He feels almost shaky with relief.

Almost without thinking he lets his shine drift and linger for a moment on the anxious, busy energy between Mulder and Scully downstairs. On their intense focus. On their surprising, desperate need to protect him.

***

#xfiles fanfic #the x files #x files fanfic #fox mulder #dana scully #x files #xf fanfic #msr #jackson van de kamp #x files revival

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phillippadgettwrites · 11 days

Text

The First Time, Every Time: Miracle Man

Rated X / 1048 words / Tagging @today-in-fic / Posted on AO3

“The power of Christ compels you!” the old priest and the young priest shout in unison.

Streaks of holy water slash through the flesh on Regan’s legs, slicing her skin wide open. She floats above the bed, rigid and mottled, a shell of the child she was when the movie started.

Mulder’s hand slides further down Scully’s belly, slipping just under the waist of her sweatpants, and gooseflesh lights up all over her arms.

It’s actually really fucking cliche, a fact that they won’t be able to joke about for another six years. The scary movie, the dimmed lights, the flirtatious teasing about one or the other of them being too scared to keep watching. Mulder facetiously sat too close. Scully ironically pulled the blanket up to shield her eyes. He played pretend at comforting her. Somewhere along the line the joke stopped being a joke, and when he leaned forward and touched her jaw, she knew it wasn’t part of a bit.

He’s wedged on his side between her body and the back of the couch, and he appears to have aspirations of sticking his hand down her pants. Though she realizes intellectually that they’ve already made a handful of mistakes and would be wise to cut their losses, the fact that she hasn’t been laid in months paired with the empty wine glass in front of her on the coffee table are seriously clouding her judgment.

“S’that okay?” Mulder mumbles against her mouth as the tips of his fingers graze the skin beneath her belly button, and she doesn’t say no. She doesn’t say anything, just shifts her hips up in encouragement and lets her body do the talking.

It truly was an innocent invitation. She owns the movie, so it’s not like she went out of her way to rent it or anything. Mulder just seemed out of sorts after their latest case, and she felt compelled to cheer him up. She typically finds moody men insufferable, but Mulder actually talks to her about the things that sour his mood, and often even takes her advice, which makes it exponentially less irritating. She’s truly flattered by how willing he is to be vulnerable with her, a trait that she initially thought to be compulsive but later realized is specific to her.

She gasps and clamps her thighs down on his forearm when he sinks a finger into her, and he immediately stills.

“Did I hurt you?” he asks, pulling away a little, and she shakes her head and grabs the back of his neck to tug him closer.

Far from hurting her, he just woke up nerve endings that have been dormant since Bush was in office, but she’s not about to tell him that. She can’t remember the last time a man spent this much time kissing and touching her without trying to stick his dick in her. Just when she has that thought, Mulder gently grinds against her hip, and she feels herself quivering around his fingers at the idea of fucking him. But of course they can’t do that. They shouldn’t even be doing this.

He’s very respectful. He asks before he takes off her shirt, her bra, her pants. He doesn’t ask if he can take off her panties, but that’s only because she shucks them off herself when he stands up to slip his jeans off and she sees his cock swing free. Legs spread, lined up, sharp sting and oh. Oh, oh, oh my.

“Oh my god. You feel—” he starts, and she shuts him up with a kiss.

They can’t talk about it, it’s too…real. They’re naked, and he’s inside her, and the screen on the TV has gone black because the movie is over, making it that much darker in her living room. Scully closes her eyes and tries to forget who she’s fucking, and why she shouldn’t be doing it, but she can’t. The way he smells, the way he feels, the exact pitch of his moans—it’s Mulder. Mulder, Mulder, Mulder, god—she’s going to come. Is he going to come?

They didn’t even use a condom.

“Wait,” she says abruptly, pushing on his shoulders.

He pulls out of her and hovers there, breathless, for a beat.

“Is something wrong?”

“We didn’t—I don’t have a condom,” she says.

She can feel every inch of skin on her body burning bright red with embarrassment. It’s real. They just did that. She just fucked her partner. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

“Okay,” Mulder says reluctantly, sitting back.

She senses that he might have more to say about his clean bill of health, or questions about whether she’s on birth control, but after a moment he starts to get dressed and she follows suit.

“I hope I didn’t…pressure you in any way,” he says, a silhouette against the haze of the streetlights, and she’s exceedingly grateful for the relative darkness.

“No, not at all,” she assures him. “But maybe…do you think we can just pretend this never happened?” she asks, wincing when her voice cracks a little.

“Okay,” he says. “If that’s what you want.”

She turns on her desk lamp, which gives off enough light that he can find and put on his shoes and jacket, but not so much that he’ll be able to see how red her face is, or how swollen her lips. She walks him to the door and avoids eye contact as they say awkward goodbyes, but he’s clearly lingering and she doesn’t know why he won’t just go so she can begin the process of repressing this night deep into the far reaches of her memory.

“Was it really that bad?” he finally asks, and her head snaps up to find a somewhat pained expression on his face.

“Oh, no,” she stammers. “Not at all. It was fine—it was good, that’s not why…”

A slow grin breaks out over his face as she struggles for words, and Scully huffs in irritation.

“Glad to hear it. Night, Scully,” he says, giving her upper arm a squeeze. “See you Monday.”

“Goodnight, Mulder,” she grumbles, flashing him a tiny smile before she closes the door behind him.

She’s not sure if they just ruined her favorite movie, or just made it her favorite for an entirely new reason.

#x files fanfic #the x files #xf fic #xf fanfic

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carefulfears · 8 months

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and the fact that mulder cries a lot makes me want to cuddle him forever 😭😭

everything is so hard for him all of the time!! i love him.

#i love that he cries on screen so much #it means so much in terms of characterization of male heroes that i'm too tired to get into right now #but i also think of when my friend ali talked about how like...what a show of vulnerability it is #in those moments he isn't the invincible protagonist who always charges forward and always makes it out #he's traumatized and he's SENSITIVE and things do not come easy to him. he's afraid. he's lonely.#that ending shot of reduxes just knocks me breathless every time because that IS what it feels like.#that IS what success or barely making it through or 'the best news ever' feels like sometimes #earlier in the ep when he comes to scully's room and she's asleep and he just SOBS next to her. trying to muffle his cries in his hand #so he doesnt wake her. and the next day he's like :) oh i stopped by last night :) didn't want to disturb you :)#it's like actually haunting. and there is no part of THAT that is a heroic crusader.#when everything is 'okay' in the end and everyone is in the room RIGHT BEHIND HIM celebrating and he cries again...god.#it's like the tags i referenced yesterday talked about. it just all hits him at the same time.#there is never any respite on this show even when there's a miracle

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skelavender · 1 month

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“Still, my mom is going to imply…” “I know. It’s not serious. I mean, it’s not like we’re married or anything.” Scully chuckles and pushes up onto her toes to press a kiss to his cheek. “Now that’s not going to help dissuade the rumors, Agent Scully.” He teases. “At this point, I don’t think there’s any hope.” OR After a year of platonic marriage, things start to change.

read chapter one of you are in love on ao3, or below the cut!

One look, dark room

Meant just for you

Time moved too fast

You play it back

Buttons on a coat

Light-hearted joke

No proof, not much

But you saw enough

***

November 1996

There are flowers on Mulder’s desk.

A bouquet of… well, Mulder’s not great with flowers, but they’re all purple. There’s lavender, he knows that, and what he’s guessing are violets and irises. The last he can’t recognize, but it looks like a purple daisy. Maybe it is just a purple daisy? He didn’t know they made those.

As he steps further into the office, he notices Scully behind the desk. She had been gone when he woke up, which was unusual for them, but had left a note on the coffee maker saying she had some errands to run before work and she would meet him there. It was folded and in his pocket.

“Good morning,” she greets.

“Hey. Who sent you flowers?”

Scully raises one eyebrow and a small smirk graces her face, a challenge. “Check the card.”

He looks at her with curiosity and approaches the desk. He plucks the card out of the little fork, and when he unfolds it, he blinks dumbly a couple times.

Happy anniversary, sweetheart.

Oh.

It wasn’t as though he’d forgotten. Of course not, not in a million years. Her gift is waiting at home, on top of the bookshelf in their home office where she could neither see nor reach. That was part of why he’d been disappointed when he woke up to a cold bed. He had wanted to give it to her before work, but she left before he got the chance. He had ordered personalized stationery for her, paper being the traditional gift for a first wedding anniversary, from a store down in Rosslyn. They have Special Agent Dana Scully, M.D. letterpressed across the top in green, with a notepad to match.

“I don’t think anybody has ever gotten me flowers before.” He notes with a dreamy tone to his voice. Scully has impressed him.

Her satisfied expression softens. “I’m glad I could be the first.”

“Thank you, Scully. I love them.”

“You’re welcome.”

“God,” he laughs and ducks his head. “I can’t believe it’s been a year. It’s flown by.”

“It has, hasn’t it.”

“It seems like just last month we were averaging a hospital visit every two weeks.”

Scully snorts, “Not that we’re that far off.”

Mulder chuckles, and rounds the desk to peck her cheek. “I didn’t forget, by the way. Your gift is at home. I’ll give it to you this evening.”

“I didn’t think you had.” She mirrors the small kiss and Mudler retreats to the chair Scully usually sits in. If she wants the desk today, she can sure as hell have it.

***

Scully pulls up outside her mother’s house and parks the car. She’s unbuckling her seatbelt when his hand shoots out and stops her. Her eyes shoot up to meet his, one brow raised.

He’s been thinking about it since Maggie called him to extend the invitation to the dinner. When they were first discussing getting married, Scully was concerned about her mother finding out. She had mentioned to him that she didn’t think her mother would keep the secret, but he suspected that she was afraid she wouldn’t approve of what was essentially a sham union.

But Mulder wears his ring, and people tend to be curious.

Most of the time he can get away with vague answers that aren’t really lies, but he knows Mrs. Scully would grill him about it. He can only answer so many questions by talking about Scully without really talking about Scully before her mother notices.

“Your mom still doesn’t know, right?”

Scully knows what he’s talking about immediately. “No. Only that we’re living together.”

He slips his ring off his finger and holds it out to her, “Will you hold onto this for me?” Her mouth forms a little O. “She’ll have questions. There are only so many ways I can skirt them.”

“Of course,” she says. Her hands trace the neckline of her cardigan. He’s about to ask what she’s doing as he’s still holding the ring out to her in a flat palm, until the gold chain pops out and she undoes the clasp.

It would be so easy to forget about it. That she also wears the ring. That their union isn’t one-sided. That she’s as intertwined with him as he is with her. She wears it openly at home, sometimes, but the necklace remains hidden when they’re out and about. Despite that, Mulder, with a possessive streak that he tries to damp down, remembers. The image of her ring laid against her chest, or the fleeting vision of it on her finger for a couple days in the hospital, is settled into its own corner of his mind. He thinks of it more often than he’d like to admit.

Scully plucks the ring from Mulder’s hand and slides it onto the chain. It clinks into place next to hers. Two hearts, strung together.

“Thank you for mentioning that, I hadn’t considered it,“ The thought of hiding you hadn’t crossed my mind, she doesn’t say. She tucks the necklace back into her shirt and goes to unbuckle her seatbelt again. “You ready?”

Mulder nods, and they approach the Scully residence.

“She does think that we’re dating, you know.” Scully says as they walk up the pathway side by side.

“Really?”

“I tried to explain we’re living together because of the convenience, but she was not convinced.”

Mulder’s hand goes to the small of Scully’s back as she does up the couple steps onto the porch. “I’m not surprised. She always seemed to think we were…”

“I know. But now she’s pretty damn sure of it.”

“You did your best.”

Scully wonders how different things would be if they were… romantically entangled. Would he have fought her mother’s Thanksgiving invitation so hard? Would his hand be in hers, or around her shoulders, instead of on her back? Would he drop a kiss onto her lips on her mother’s front porch before facing the crowd inside?

She steps back and her eyes crawl up and down Mulder’s form. One of the buttons on his shirt doesn’t match, she notices. The cleaner would have attached a closer match, so he must have done it himself.

Who had taught him to sew a button? It’s not a skill she would expect him to have. She can’t exactly picture his mother sitting him down to teach him. Every time Scully thinks she finally knows Mulder, finally understands him, something new surfaces that makes her rethink him.

Scully sucks in a breath and refocuses. “Still, she’s going to imply…”

“I know. It’s not serious. I mean, it’s not like we’re married or anything.”

Scully chuckles and pushes up onto her toes to press a kiss to his cheek.

“Now that’s not going to help dissuade the rumors, Agent Scully.” He teases.

“At this point, I don’t think there’s any hope.” She rings the bell.

“Dana! Fox! Oh, it’s so good to see you both.” Maggie swings the door open and greets them with her usual warm, excited smile. She takes each of them in for a hug and kiss on the cheek.

“Happy Thanksgiving, Mom.”

“Happy Thanksgiving, Mrs Scully.”

Maggie slaps his arm playfully. “You call me Maggie, Fox, how many times do I have to tell you.”

“Alright Maggie.” Mulder smiles at his shoes. Mulder fucking loves Maggie Scully. She offers affection so freely, in a way Mulder isn’t used to experiencing, especially not in a familial manner. He wasn’t raised with this, with hugs hello and being allowed to call friends’ parents by their first names. It’s foreign to him. She’s been trying to get him to call her Maggie since she started feeding him while Scully was gone, but it had never stuck.

“Bill and Charlie are in the living room, why don’t you two go sit with them while I check on the bird?“ Maggie offers.

“Tara and Marcel couldn’t make it?”

“No, Tara decided to go to her parents last minute, and Marcel is, well, Polish, so he didn’t want to come back over with Charlie for an American holiday.” Maggie winks at her daughter. “You’re the only one who brought a partner this year, Dana.”

“Mom, that’s not—“ Scully sighs and runs a hand over her forehead in exasperation before deciding to just drop it. “I’m surprised Charlie was able to get the time off, he usually isn’t.”

“I’m not teaching this semester,” a new voice explains, Mulder turns around to face a burly looking redhead. “I’m focusing on research and writing. Makes it a bit easier to get away for American holidays.” He turns to Mulder and offers a hand, which the agent takes. “You must be the Agent Mulder I keep hearing about in Dana’s emails. Charlie Scully.”

“That would be me. It’s good to meet you.”

“Dana says you just go by Mulder?”

“With a first name like mine, you’d go by anything else.”

Charlie laughs, “So tell me, Mulder, has Dana ever told you about what happened at her senior prom?”

“No, she has not.” Mulder replies, tone keen and interested. He turns to his partner, “Scully, am I about to unlock embarrassing childhood stories?”

“Charlie, you promised you would never tell anyone!”

Charlie taps his fingers together conspiratorially, and begins regaling Mulder with the story as they enter the living room.

Upon introduction to Bill, Mulder understands why Scully had laughed so hard at a joke he once made about the two of them having an affair. Bill hides his contempt for Mulder poorly, with a pinched smile as they shake hands and the occasional glare. When Maggie calls them into the dining room to gather for the meal, Mulder sticks to his Scully’s side and Bill settles himself on the other end of the table, at the head.

“Mom, that was delicious,” Scully says as she pushes her chair back. She then turns to Mulder, “Should we get on the dishes?”

“Oh, you don’t have to do that, Dana.” Maggie protests, rising from her seat.

“You cooked us an amazing meal, Mrs. Scully, please let us clean up.” Mulder places a hand on her shoulder to encourage her to stay in her seat and converse with her sons, and he and Scully retreat to the kitchen with piles of dishes in hand.

“You wash, I dry and put away?” Scully offers, and Mulder nods.

“Thank you for inviting me,” he says after a few moments of quiet washing. “I was afraid it would be awkward. I mean, Bill doesn’t seem to like me very much, but Charlie seems nice.”

“I can’t believe he told you about Marcus.” Scully laughs, “That story is so embarrassing.”

“I’m just glad to have finally earned your embarrassing childhood stories. It’s like I’ve reached the next level of friendship.”

Scully snorts. “Right, Mulder. Step one is they bail you out of jail, step two is they shoot you, three is get married, four is buy a home together, and five is learn about their senior prom. That’s the natural order of things.”

Maggie watches from the other room as Mulder tilts his head back to let out a full belly laugh. Dana elbows him, and he deposits a smear of suds onto her nose in response. As she observes the ensuing playful water fight, Maggie can’t help but hope they soon see what she does, what she’s sure Charlie has picked up on as well, what Bill might still be unaccepting of. There’s so much affection between the two of them. Dana looks up at Fox with a look that she’s never seen on her daughter’s face before, one filled with raw affection. Maggie can tell that whatever they have, it’s coming to a head. Something is there. Everything is there, glowing between them.

Plus, Fox has a thin strip of paler skin on his fourth finger of his left hand, right where a wedding ring would lie.

next chapter ->

#LTWrites #LTW: you are in love #fics #fall into place series #the x files #todayinfic #.txt

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darkesttimelinestuff · 7 months

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"Do you recognize this?"

Day 7 of Fictober! How am I still doing this? Really proud that I've been able to write every day.

I had a lot of fun finding pictures for today's story.

Prompt #7 - "Do you recognize this?"

Find me on Ao3

Scully had turned her office upside down and inside out looking for her passport. She knew exactly where it was. Where she always kept it. Or, at least where it should have been.

Maybe Mulder had moved it. He sometimes tossed things aside without realizing it. That’s how she had lost her paycheck once, until it turned up at the bottom of some of Mulder’s papers. Neither was quite sure how it had happened, but from then on Scully was certain to keep important documents as far from Mulder’s reach as possible.

“Mulder, are you sure you didn’t touch the things in my desk?” she called across the room.

“I’m sure!” he shouted back defensively. “What business would I have going through your desk?”

“Because I always keep my passport right here,” she said, pointing to a drawer, “and I don’t see it. And if I can’t find it, we can’t go to Mexico tomorrow.”

Mulder stood and crossed the room to her desk. “Let me check,” he offered. “Two sets of eyes are better than one, right?”

She motioned with her hand, giving him permission to look.

“Be my guest, but I doubt you’ll find it. I’ve searched that desk twice,” she insisted, slumping in a nearby chair in frustration.

As Mulder bent over the desk in concentration, Scully checked out his ass. Even in his 50s he had killer buns!

“It’s so unlike you to misplace these things,” he was saying. “I’m a little disappoint…”

And then he stopped.

“What?” she asked, worried that maybe he found her passport but it was damaged or expired.

“Oh wow!” he exclaimed, standing up and examining something she couldn’t quite see.

It looked like a small paper and she suddenly became very self-conscious.

“What is it?” she asked, reaching for his hands, hoping to pry them open.

“Oh, it is the most perfect thing I’ve ever seen,” Mulder said, “and I can’t believe you never showed me!”

“Mulder, what is it?” she demanded, cursing her short stature.

“Do you recognize this?” He held up a photograph.

“Oh, my god,” she said, feeling both embarrassed and defensive about the picture. “I haven't thought about that in a very long time.”

The picture showed a young Dana Katherine Scully on a bed in a black lace push-up bra and panties. She hated that word, but there was no better term for it. They weren’t underwear; that was too plain. No, these were panties. The kind a partner used their teeth to slide down your legs.

This was Dana, not Scully, and she was bold and sensual, rather than pragmatic and sensible. Her smothering eyes said, “come fuck me,” and you couldn’t deny her anything.

“Well,” Mulder said, licking his lips, “this is fucking incredible.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes! I love this! I can’t believe you didn’t tell me about this.”

“There are,” Scully said hesitantly, “more.”

“I need to see them,” he replied, almost too excited.

“Well, this was back when I first started at the F.B.I.,” she said, searching for the other pictures. “My friend suggested it and I don’t know what possessed me, but it seemed like a good idea.”

“Do you regret it?”

“No, not at all! I’m very proud of these pictures. But they’re more for me than anyone else. Ah! Here they are,” she said, handing him the rest of the photos.

The pictures showed a progression of Dana Scully shedding a man’s white button-up shirt, so that she was hugging her lace-clad breasts, posing suggestively on a bed, and, in the last one, looking right into the camera with nothing but a sheet wrapped around her.

“Well, I would be honored if they could also be for me.”

“They aren’t a secret. I just forgot about them,” she admitted. “So much has happened to us.”

“We’ve known each other, what, over twenty years,” Mulder said, “and you never thought to show me these?”

“Twenty-five years.”

“I’m really glad you lost your passport,” Mulder said, studying each and every photo.

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storybycorey · 22 days

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From Deep Within storybycorey's WIP Files

I've recently discovered various snippets of WIPs that I'd somewhat forgotten about, so I'm going to start publishing them. Some of these are more recent (2-3 years ago?) and some are from much longer ago. I make no promises of ever finishing them, but thought it would be fun to release them!

No clue where this next one came from. I assume it was a sex scene I wrote for an existing fic but then I must have decided to go in a different direction. Who knows? Not me! It must be fairly old because it's written in 1st person, which I only did in the very beginnings of my writing 'career', which also accounts for the less than stellar writing style. But hey, it's porn, so I figure that makes up for it.

But then he slows to a stop. “Wha…?” I whimper desperately, grasping at his shoulders.

“Shhhh, hold on,” he says.

He flips us over so that I’m now on top, lying against his heated chest. “Oh!” is my startled reply as I prop myself up with my arms on his shoulders.

He grabs hold of my hips and grinds them against his own, then says, “Show me, Scully,…. show me what you like….”

“Mulder, I don’t…, ” I sputter.

“Show me…,” he interrupts me before I can even finish. And then, still inside me, he arches his hips.

I grunt, surprised. My body responds before I can even think, and I undulate right back against him.

“Yeah,” he rasps, ”…just like that…”

I grip his shoulders and begin to slowly rock, rolling my hips with every thrust so that his cock will rub against my clit. So good. It’s so good.

He fills his hands with the flesh of my ass, squeezes. My breasts lift and sway with my movements and he stares, lips slack. His awe-filled expression would be comical if it weren’t so erotic, if it didn’t turn me on so damn much. I move more aggressively, arch my back just to watch what he does.

“Touch them…,” I beg, aching for him.

He looks me in the eye. “No,” he denies me, “Show me first.”

I gasp. My God.

“I want to see, Scully,” he urges, “Show me what makes you feel good”.

His hips are still gently thrusting as I take my hands from his shoulders and sit up. What makes me feel good… He makes me feel good. But I know what he’s asking. I know what he’s fantasized about the last seven years, the things we thought would never happen but finally did.

I nod. He grunts in encouragement.

I want to give him what he wants. I want to show him.

My eyes slip closed, and I lick my lips. He bucks slightly beneath me, squeezes my hipbones with his thumbs. Then I slowly draw my hands up my body. From knees to thighs, then my fingertips over his thumbs at my hips. Across my belly to circle around my navel. Then finally, I tickle along my ribs until I’m cupping the undersides of my breasts, flirting with the him, lifting them towards him in offering.

My God, I can’t believe how much this is turning me on. The thought that he’s watching me tease myself like this is unbelievably erotic. I allow my eyes to slip open briefly, to see him watching me. His eyes are dark and hooded, his lower lip slack and wet.

He watches my hands, waiting for me to take the last step, and I feel the pace of his thrusts slow in anticipation. I’ve never felt like this before. Jesus, my skin is so sensitized right now, so hungry for touch. I trace slowly along the curves beneath my breasts with my middle fingers, back and forth, back and forth, rolling my hips at the same pace against him.

“Scu…,” he breathes, mesmerized.

Finally, I can’t stand the tease anymore, and I allow myself to cup their fullness, squeezing the soft flesh, kneading it. And oh, it’s glorious. My head falls back on my neck and I groan at the sensation.

“Jesus!” he grunts, bucking up hard beneath me.

I try to imagine what Mulder feels when he touches me. As I knead, I notice how soft my breasts are, I pay attention to the wonderful, sexy weight they’ve got to them. My head rolls on my neck in pleasure. By the time I circle closer to my nipples, he’s panting. I touch my areolas first, the skin even softer there—so sensitive. My back arches in anticipation as I tease myself. God, him watching changes everything.

I can’t take it anymore; I finally give in. I pinch my nipples and roll them between my forefingers and thumbs. My hips buck at the sensation, and we both groan. I tug them gently away from my body before letting them snap back. I do it again. And again and again. With my knuckles, I brush softly over their tips, alternating between this and pinching them between the webbing of my fingers. It’s too much, it’s not enough, it’s just so, so good.

Mulder grips my hips and grinds me harder down against him. I’d lose my balance, but he holds me steady, does all the work for us where we’re joined so that I can continue with what I’m doing above. I start to feel frenzied, out of control. I pinch my nipples harder, twist and tug them more roughly. He growls beneath me, snaps his hips so erratically, I finally lose my battle with balance and fall forward, dropping my hands from my breasts to brace myself against the sheets.

I needn’t worry though, because immediately one of my breasts is in his mouth and the other in is hand, picking up right where I left off. What finally drives me over the edge are his teeth—gentle but nipping, taking what’s left of my sanity and tossing it away. I fall against his chest, mouth wet and open at his shoulder, my desperate whines muffled against his skin. He follows me over the edge just moments later, fingers clutching at my back so hard they’ll leave bruises.

#wip snippets #my fic #storybycorey

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sagan-starstuff · 2 months

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I did it, I watched Requiem all the way into the end and now I will watch season 8 again for the first time in like 15 years. Mulder is so sweet to her. He was ready to get out of the car and live for Scully. They were so close to getting out of the car, and then...

Oh God it hurts just like it did when I was 14, my heart. My Scully, alone. My Mulder, tortured and not knowing about his baby. My Skinner, having to tell Scully he lost Mulder. (I bet the Gunmen told her first. They would want to be there for her.)

The week after Requiem originally aired I was so upset that I put up missing posters for Mulder around my high school. This went exactly as well for my social status as you would expect.

On a lighter note, can you IMAGINE this group of people putting that takeout order together?

Langly: "Ok so fried chicken, sweet and sour pork, burgers and fries..."

Krycek: "Actually since prison I've been doing this Atkins thing so no rice for me."

Mulder: "Fuck you. Langly, get him extra rice."

Skinner: "Actually I'm doing South Beach, no rice for me either."

#the x files #the xfiles #x files #thexfiles #xfiles #txf #msr

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atths--twice · 2 months

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It’s Scully’s sixtieth birthday today. A time for family and spending the day together. ❤️

February 23, 2024

8:45 p.m.

Scully smiled as she looked at the pictures held on the Skinner and Rachel’s fridge by an assortment of magnets.

There were ones of only Rachel and Skinner, the twins together and separate, the whole family in different locations, and many with the twins and Faith as they cheesed for the camera or were taken in candid. There was even a more recent one with all of them from Halloween, held in a border Faith had made out of popsicle sticks and decorated with Halloween stickers.

Scully shook her head as she traced her finger over Faith’s face in her favorite picture. Jacob and Elizabeth were sitting on a bedding of straw, within the petting zoo they had visited last August, each holding a bunny on their laps. They were grinning from ear to ear and beside them was Faith, smiling at them.

When Rachel had shown Scully the picture, they had both proclaimed how cute it was and how grown up Faith looked as she looked on at her “babies.” Rachel had immediately sent it to Scully and she had made copies of them on her way home the next day, placing a framed picture in Faith’s room and one in her office, both at home and at work.

Since then many things had changed, but that picture, keeping them frozen in that moment, was and always would be one of her favorites.

“Hey,” Mulder said, pulling her from her thoughts.

“Hey,” she said back, smiling at him as she moved out of his way, allowing him to open the fridge and take out two beers.

“You ready for this?” he asked, picking up the bottle opener to open the beers.

“Yeah,” she laughed with a nod.

“I don’t know if I am. I feel like this could be bad. I’m not very good at it.”

“Oh, honey,” she said, wrapping her arms around his waist and smiling at him. “You are good at it.”

“Hmm,” he hummed, his arms going around her, the two beers still held in his hands. “I just don’t know. I want to do it right and I’m not sure I’ll do you justice.”

“Just take your time and do the best you can,” she said, tilting her head slightly. “What do you always say to Faith? Try and then try again?”

“And if all else fails, chuck the fucker out the window?” he suggested and she laughed.

“Don’t remember ever hearing that part.”

“Because it’s internal. But trust me, it’s always there.”

She laughed again and he smiled at her before he leaned his head down and kissed her.

“So you did get the beers,” Skinner said, interrupting them. “They just haven’t made their way to the table yet.”

“Sorry, man,” Mulder said, turning them so he could hand Skinner his beer. “I got distracted by this smoking hot woman.”

“God,” Skinner said, shaking his head and taking a drink of his beer.

“Are you going to deny that she’s smoking hot? Today of all days?” Mulder asked incredulously as Scully stepped back with a laugh. “Look at her.”

“Mulder, stop it,” she said, shaking her head.

“No. It’s impossible. You’re hot. It’s the truth.”

“Who’s hot?” Rachel asked as she came into the room, smiling at them and taking Skinner’s beer from him.

“Hey,” he protested and she winked as she took a sip.

“I was saying that my wife, who is celebrating her sixtieth rotation around the sun-”

“More like accepting it,” Scully said with a small sigh as Rachel smiled at her.

“Celebrating,” Mulder insisted, looking at her pointedly and she nodded, scrunching her chin as she put an arm around his waist. “As amazing as ever and definitely still smoking hot.”

“Hear! Hear!,” Rachel agreed, raising the bottle in the air. Skinner looked at her and she looked back, her eyebrows raised. “Yeah, she’s hot. Deal with it.” Mulder and Scully laughed and Skinner gave Rachel a crooked smile, before kissing her softly.

“And so are you,” he said and Rachel pulled away.

“So you do think she’s hot?!” Rachel said, shaking her head and scoffing loudly as Scully laughed again.

“You… they…” Skinner stammered, looking around at each of them.

“Oh, you’re so cute when you get flustered,” Rachel laughed, putting the beer down and wrapping her arms around his neck. “I love you so much.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he said gruffly, even as he pulled her close. She smiled as she reached up to kiss him, then whispered something that made him laugh. “Yeah. Okay.”

Mulder glanced at Scully and she shrugged with a smile as she turned her attention back to Rachel and Skinner. He caught her eye and smiled.

“I’ve been given permission to state once a year that you are a…” he said, pausing when Rachel covered his ear and whispered something into it. “Babe...”

“That’s my wife you’re talking about!” Mulder stated in mock outrage. “How dare you!”

“I was talking to my wife,” Skinner said, as Rachel dissolved into laughter. “I didn’t mean-”

“Sure you didn’t,” Mulder said, shaking his head and sighing loudly.

“Jesus Christ,” Skinner murmured, picking up the beer and draining half the bottle. “Can we just…?”

“Move on?” Scully asked with a chuckle.

“Yes, please,” Skinner sighed with a nod. “I’ll grab another beer and meet you out there.”

“Okay,” Rachel said, winking at Scully as she turned to leave the kitchen. Scully caught up to her and put her arm around her waist.

“He’s so easy,” Scully said.

“Oh my God, babe. I know,” Rachel said and they both cackled as they walked out of the room.

They stopped at the long dining room table and Scully smiled at the items that had been set upon it.

“I’m really excited to do this,” Rachel said and Scully nodded, also feeling a sense of excitement.

Mulder and Skinner came into the room and they also stopped at the table.

“Okay, let’s take a seat,” Rachel said, clapping her hands and grinning at them. “Across from each other, so you’re facing your partner.”

Mulder hummed and brushed Scully’s back with his fingers as he passed her and went to sit on the side closest to the window. Skinner sat beside him and then Scully sat across from Mulder.

“Alright,” Rachel said. “So when I was younger, the birthday person always got to pick the activities for the day, what they wanted for dinner, and their cake. I’d say that aside from this particular activity, you’ve gotten all three today, Dana.” She smiled at Scully and she smiled back with a nod.

“Although,” Scully said, staring at the blank canvas on the small tabletop easel in front of her. “While it may not have been something I thought to do, I love the idea and I’m looking forward to it.”

“I’m so glad,” Rachel said, beaming as she looked at Scully. “I know I’ve sent you many videos of people doing this recently. Enjoying the company of your partner, while painting their portrait.” She gestured to the paints, paintbrushes, pencils, and pens on the table.

“Right,” Mulder agreed, staring at his own canvas, and then looking up at Scully as though studying her. She smiled and picked up a pencil, intent on sketching him first.

“Before we start, I have one request,” Rachel said, letting out a deep breath. “Take your time and make an effort. I really don’t think I need to tell the two of you.” She looked at Skinner and Mulder, smiling softly. “It’s just that… the mass amount of videos I’ve seen of people revealing their finished product, it seems like the women try harder or make more of an effort to make it good. Maybe the men have done their best, but sometimes it seems like they took it as an opportunity to paint their partner with comical features. Then, because of their actions, and the fact that it’s easier to join in on the laughter than be on the outside of it, their partner has to behave like it’s funnier than it is, while perhaps leaving them feeling… less than happy or not as loved.”

“Honey,” Skinner said quietly, shaking his head.

“I know, I know,” Rachel said, putting her hands up and shrugging. “I just…”

“Take our time,” Skinner said, smiling at her and she smiled back with a small nod.

Scully watched them, smiling when Rachel stepped closer and kissed him, before taking her place beside her.

“Okay,” Rachel said, turning on some music, though the volume stayed low, considering the sleeping children upstairs. Raising her glass of wine next to her easel, she exhaled with a smile. “Let’s do this.”

They all clinked their glasses or bottles and began to create a drawing of their partner, just like the videos Rachel had shown them over the past few days.

Two hours later, all of them slightly tipsy, it was time to reveal their paintings.

Scully had done as Rachel suggested and taken her time. Sketching Mulder, looking at him in a different light, she had focused on the varying shades of color in his hair, the close trim of his beard, his smile, and the lines around his eyes and on his forehead, especially when he concentrated.

Sometimes, especially recently, she caught him staring at those lines in the bathroom mirror. He would sigh as he touched them, no doubt feeling it made him appear older, but she loved every one of them. They were part of him and his journey in life, of which she had been an active and close participant, and she would not remove them even if she had the chance.

Adding a few final touches, she set down her paintbrush and looked at him with a smile. He was staring at his canvas closely and then pulling back with a frown and tilt of his head.

After doing this a few times, he glanced up and saw her looking at him. He raised his eyebrows at her, but she only smiled and shrugged her shoulders, not saying anything.

His foot then found hers under the table and he tapped against it once, a silent question. She tapped back three times, their code for I love you. When he tapped back four times, I love you too, she grinned as she remembered when the fourth tap or squeeze had been implemented.

“It should be four squeezes when you do it back,” Faith had said, squeezing both of their hands as they sat on the couch one night. “Because three is I love you, so four should be I love you… too!”

She had demonstrated it, squeezing their hands three times and then waiting for them to respond back with four squeezes. When they had, she grinned, as pleased as could be.

“Okay!” Rachel said, pausing the music and looking at Scully. “You’re the birthday… hottie-”

“Oh, now don’t start that again,” Skinner groaned and they all laughed.

“You go first, Dana,” Rachel said, winking at Skinner who rolled his eyes as he smiled at her.

“Okay,” Scully said, sitting up straight and letting out a breath. “Wow, this makes me feel slightly nervous. Okay, here we go.” She looked at Mulder and he grinned. “Close your eyes.”

He did as she asked as she picked up her canvas, turning it around for him to see.

“Huh,” Skinner said and then closed his mouth, glancing quickly at Scully in apology. She smiled as she shook her head, her heart beating faster as she wondered what that sound had meant.

“Can I open my eyes?” Mulder asked and Scully chuckled softly.

“Yes,” she whispered and he opened his eyes.

“Wow,” he said, leaning forward. “Wow, hon. You did an amazing job. That… wow.”

“Wow? That’s the best you got?” she teased and he laughed softly.

“It’s… can I hold it?”

She nodded and they both leaned forward, him taking the canvas and holding it as she leaned back, watching his face. He smiled as he looked over the whole thing, touching his beard and then his hair. His smile faded a bit as he ran his fingers over his forehead, touching the lines that lay there. He sighed and then looked up at her.

“It’s beautiful. You captured everything so perfectly. Lovingly.”

“That couldn’t possibly be because I love you now, could it?” she asked, smiling as she picked up her wine glass and took a sip.

“Possibly,” he agreed, looking down at the painting again.

“Can I see mine now?” she asked and he raised his head, worry in his eyes.

“I don’t think I did the same justice that you’ve done for me. I don’t know that…”

“Come on, man,” Skinner said, shaking his head and then gesturing to Mulder’s painting with his chin. “Show her.”

Mulder nodded and set her painting down before picking up his own.

“Close your eyes,” Mulder said and she did, swallowing hard, suddenly very nervous.

“Oh!” Rachel said, inhaling sharply.

“Open them.”

Scully opened her eyes and then gasped, her eyes lifting to his.

“Didn’t do me justice? Mulder, it’s so beautiful. Can I have it?”

“Yeah,” he said, grinning as he leaned forward and handed it to her.

He had painted a faint forest green background with small yellow dots near the top, symbolizing stars. Smiling back at her, he had captured her face nearly identical to how she had captured his.

There were lines etched within, where there had not been any when they first met. Her eyes were the exact shade as her own and she sighed as she stared into them. Her hair, lighter and longer than it had been when they had begun their journey together, lay across one shoulder with pieces of it coming loose onto the other side.

“It’s…” she said, shaking her head. “It’s beautiful. Thank you.” She looked up at him and he nodded with a smile.

“You’re welcome, love.”

He tapped her foot three times and as she tapped back four, he grinned and winked at her.

“It’s really good, Fox,” Rachel said, leaning toward Scully to look at it closer.

“Thank you,” he said, tapping a random pattern gently against Scully’s foot.

“Alright, who’s next?” Skinner asked gruffly. “You want to go first, honey?”

“Okay!” Rachel said, sitting up and smiling as she let out a breath. “You don’t need to close your eyes, though. I want to see your real time reaction.”

“Why does that make me nervous?” he asked and she laughed as she picked up her canvas and turned it around. “Oh, Rach… that’s…” He laughed and reached for it as Rachel smiled.

“Oh. That’s a big, bald, beautiful man,” Mulder said, looking at it and then Rachel. She and Scully laughed, both for different reasons, and Skinner shot him a look.

“Shut up,” he said and then turned his attention to Rachel. “It’s perfect. You did a really great job, honey.” He turned it around to show Scully, though she had already seen it as Rachel was working on it.

His face was painted against a dark blue background. The brown of his eyes and the salt and pepper of his beard had been captured to a T. He had a small smile and Scully smiled at the sight of it.

“It’s you. Perfectly you.” She smiled at Rachel and she bowed her head in thanks.

“I’m up,” Skinner said and Mulder tapped Scully’s foot. She looked at him and he widened his eyes.

Hmmm… what does that mean? she thought.

Skinner set Rachel’s drawing down and reached for his own. He looked at her and smiled as he picked it up and turned it around.

Both she and Scully gasped, Rachel’s hand going to her throat.

“Walter,” she breathed. “I… oh my God.” He handed it to her and Scully leaned closer, her mouth slightly agape.

It was stunning to say the least. He had drawn and then painted Rachel as well as any artist ever could. He captured the blue of her eyes, the light within them, and her smile so perfectly, it was like looking at a photograph.

“I can’t believe this,” Rachel said, shaking her head. “She’s so beautiful.”

“You’re so beautiful, honey,” Skinner said with a soft chuckle. “Don’t I always tell you that?”

“Yeah, but…” She shrugged and wiped her eyes as she shook her head again. Scully rubbed her back as Rachel drew in a deep breath.

“I think I’ve been ousted as the hottie. And on my birthday too,” Scully said and everyone laughed, Rachel’s ending on a small sob.

“I love this so much,” she said, looking at Skinner. “Thank you, sweetheart.”

“You’re more than welcome, honey,” Skinner said and Rachel nodded.

Mulder tapped Scully’s foot again and she nodded as she glanced at him.

“Who knew lying below that gruff exterior all these years, there lay the heart of such an artist?” Scully said, smiling at him. “It’s truly beautiful, Walter.”

“Thank you, Dana,” he said. “It’s hard for it not to be when such beauty is there to inspire me.”

“Okay, that’s enough flattery,” Rachel said, and Mulder and Scully both laughed. “But rest assured that anytime the twins need help with school art projects or to sculpt something out of clay, they’ll be heading your way.”

“I think I can handle that,” he said and they all laughed again.

They cleaned up, clearing away the paints and rinsing out the paintbrushes, laughing as they finished their drinks and each couple shared another slice of cake.

Rachel set the canvases on the stands on the table and took pictures of them, smiling as she then sent them in a text message.

“Thank you all for going along with this crazy idea.”

“Crazy? Nah,” Mulder said, putting his arm around her shoulders and squeezing. “It was a wonderful idea and turned out very well.”

“Thank you, Fox.”

Squeezing her shoulders again, he dropped his arm and walked over to Scully.

“A good ending to a good day?” he asked, taking her hands in his.

“Yes. Undoubtedly.”

“Good,” he said, leaning forward to kiss her softly. “Sixty looks good on you, babe.”

She wanted to protest, to make a flippant comment, but then her eyes fell on his painting of her and she saw what he saw. Smiling, she nodded and looked back at him.

“Yeah. I think it does.”

In the morning, when Faith and the twins saw the paintings on the table, they oohed and awed over them, claiming them beautiful and handsome.

“I want to paint a picture,” Faith said, looking at Skinner. “Can I paint Jacob and Liz Beth, Unco? And then they can paint me? If you help them, they can do it. I know they can.”

“God, you are just…” He kissed the top of her head and then whispered something in her ear. Her eyes lit up and she ran to Rachel and hugged her around the waist.

“Thank you, Raycho!” she shouted and then ran towards Rachel’s office, returning quickly with a wrapped package of blank canvases, though smaller than the ones they had used the previous evening.

“Always gotta be one step ahead of them,” Rachel said and Scully laughed in agreement.

Before the day was over, Faith had painted portraits of everyone, including Bella who had joined the sleepover, lying on her large bed that was placed beside her beloved Faith.

Jacob and Elizabeth painted for a bit, but then became bored and returned to their toys.

Skinner was asked to paint the picture of Faith, taking time to sketch her out before adding the paint.

“Unco,” Faith breathed when he showed her the final result. “It’s so beautiful. You did it so amazing. You’re a good drawing person.”

“Thank you, baby girl,” he said, laughing softly and kissing her forehead.

When they left, Faith held her portrait in her lap the whole way home, telling them about what she liked best about it.

Finding some nails and a hammer, they let Faith direct them on where the portraits she had painted should go, Scully hanging hers and Mulder’s side by side in her office.

The portrait Skinner had painted of Faith, did not get hung up. Not right away.

Instead, it lay on her pillow when she went to bed, joined her at the breakfast table, and was back in the bed at bedtime.

“He made it so good, Mama,” Faith said, yawning as she turned over to look at it. “I love it. Goodnight. I love you, Mama.”

“I love you too, love. Sweet dreams.” She kissed Faith’s sweet smelling hair and smiled at the painting.

Faith’s face was painted before a light lavender background. Her long brown hair was down and laying over her shoulders. Her blue eyes were alight with happiness and just a hint of mischief. She smiled with her perfect baby teeth showing. The little freckles that were beginning to appear had been added and Scully loved those most of all, as she had learned over the years to love her own many freckles.

Yes, she thought, looking at the painting once again and then smoothing Faith’s hair back to look at the aforementioned freckles. He captured her perfectly.

Kissing her once more, Scully turned out the bedside light and turned on the fox nightlight.

Closing the door softly behind her, she smiled at the gallery of pictures Faith had painted that hung on the wall by the stairs. Every one of them was there, and even the extra ones Faith had insisted she paint, of Grey and the fish, not wanting anyone to be left out.

Touching the portrait of her that Faith had painted, her love held within every stroke, Scully smiled.

“I think I’m going to like being sixty,” she whispered.

“Scully?” Mulder called and she nodded.

“Be there in a sec, hon,” she called back quietly before kissing her fingers and touching them to Faith’s painting.

Yeah, she thought as she continued down the stairs. I think sixty agrees with me.

#xf fanfic #the x files #msr #love #happy #family #family life: the story beyond the series #birthday #birthday fluff #painting #domestic #domestic fluff #talking and laughing #drinking #sharing moments together #fluff and humor

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