#agent mulder smut

[muldermuse]

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.

[internet-sadass]

Inappropriate Workplace Behaviour (Fox Mulder x female reader)

Blurb: The reason you're leaving Mulder's office looking flushed and dishevelled is because his office is 'stuffy' and needs better ventilation. Yeah, that's definitely the reason. Totally not because you just spent an hour with his head between your thighs.

Warnings: smut, oral sex (female receiving), office sex

A/N: I got a lady boner for Mulder. He’s so fucking pretty with his stupid pretty doe eyes and stupid fluffy brown hair grr. Anyways, I’m now obsessed with X-Files and there’s a chronic lack of good Mulder x reader smut so I wrote it myself because if you want a job done right, you gotta do it yourself. If Mulder is OOC, oops, I’m legit only on s1e5 but I’m already obsessed with him.

You rocked your hips against Mulder's tongue as he delved it between your puffy folds. Slick already coated his chin, evidence of your past two orgasms. He gripped onto your plush thighs, holding them apart so you wouldn't crush his head when he flicked his tongue over your swollen clit (not that he'd mind dying with his face buried in your cunt). 

The pair of you had been at it for an hour, with Mulder barely letting you recover each time he made you cum onto his awaiting tongue. He was relentless, drawing his tongue along your slit, pressing into your core, sucking and circling your clit with the very tip of his tongue. You were surprised you hadn't torn any of his hair out with how hard you were griping it, using it as leverage to manoeuvre his head in whichever way gave you the most pleasure. Every time you forced Mulder’s head into a new position or pressed yourself down against his tongue, bucking against his face, you heard him moan to himself, clearly getting off on you using him like a sex toy. 

You nearly toppled over when Mulder yanked one of your thighs over his shoulder, opening up your pussy to him so he could do more devious things to it. You planted your palms firmly on his desk, probably messing up whatever collection of paperwork and photocopies of evidence was there when you clenched your hands into fists as he ran his tongue through your folds again. He licked up your creamy arousal, savouring the tart and salty taste of it as it painted his lips like chapstick. 

Drawing back from your sweet cunt for a moment, Mulder caught his breath, plugging your entrance up with his fingers so you wouldn’t start whining, scissoring them inside your silky insides. You let out a drawn-out groan when he curled his fingers inside you in a ‘come hither’ motion, pressing them against your most sensitive spot. He looked up at you, smirking and repeating the action to force you to make a similar sound.

"Lucky no one wants to come down here and visit spooky Mulder, else we’d have to be much subtler and quieter. Well, you’d have to be much quieter."  Mulder said, still smirking as he rubbed your clit nonchalantly with his thumb. You whined, twitching about his fingers as he began to rub slow circles on your sensitive nub.

"E-exc - mmwah oh fuck, Fox! - except Scully. She’s always coming down here." You struggled even to get such a short statement out. It was too hard to focus on words and talking when your cunt was crammed with Mulder’s fingers and he was hell-bent on teasing your aching clit until you came yet again.

He chuckled at your comment, never stopping his assault on your oversensitive hole.

"Yeah, except Scully, so keep an ear out for her so she doesn't catch us, else we’ll never be able to live this down."  He pulled his fingers out of you, sucking your essence off them, pulling them out of his mouth with a pop. 

Settling his head between your thighs, Mulder started lapping at your cunt again, sliding his tongue in as far as he could before moving his attention to your clit. It took no time at all for you to cum once again, grinding so desperately and roughly against Mulder’s mouth and chin that you feared you’d give the poor man whiplash because of how harshly you were moving his head back and forth with your thrusts. You stilled, chest heaving as you panted like a dog, thighs trembling in the aftershock of your final orgasm that afternoon. 

Mulder got up from the floor, casually brushing the bits of carpet fluff off his knees. He was a mess; his hair was sticking out in every direction, his chin was shiny with your spend, his tie loosened, and the top of his shirt unbuttoned. Grabbing his tie, you pulled him in for an appropriately messy kiss. You tasted your fluid on his lips and felt the solid press of his erection against your stomach. You moved your hand to stroke the tent in his trousers.

“Later.” Mulder breathed, breaking the kiss, looking at you with those pretty hazel eyes that made you forget about appropriate workplace behaviour and led you to spread your legs for him that afternoon. “We can play more later. But you and I both have work to do now.”

***

You nearly walked right into Scully as you left Mulder’s office. She gave you a polite smile, which melted off her face when she noticed your rosy complexion and smeared lipstick.

“Are you alright? You look a bit… dishevelled and flushed.”  She asked.

You froze up for a second, trying to think of a convincing excuse for why you were flushed, dishevelled, and leaving Mulder’s office in such a state.

“Oh, uh, just a bit stuffy in Mulder’s office. Really need to sort out some better ventilation.” You mentally kicked yourself for coming up with such a lame and entirely unconvincing excuse. 

Scully quirked an eyebrow, but you rushed off before she could ask more questions. 

“Mulder, what’s this about your office being stuffy, I always thought it was cold down here-” Scully stared at Mulder, who was hurriedly re-arranging the papers on his desk. He also looked dishevelled, his tie slung low on his neck and his hair all over the place. He turned to face Scully, hastily wiping whatever liquid he had smeared around his mouth.

Although she had many questions, Scully kept them to herself. She’d already connected the dots and didn’t need Mulder or you to confirm her suspicions. 

[luvfo00l]

Some of my favourite fox Mulder hcs

Pairings: Fox Mulder x F!FBI!reader

Warnings: these are SFW and NSFW, MDNI below the cut!

SFW

Fox’s love language is physical touch, anytime of the day, you could just be looking at a case at your desk, he would lean over from his desk to feel your hand.

Whenever you steal his glasses he blushes almost uncontrollably, he just thinks you’re so cute.

totally writes you love notes and letters, leaving them around your desk and when you two live together he leaves them around the apartment.

Mulder is a surprisingly protective lover, he’s the sort to put his arms around your waist if another man was ever looking at you, he’d kiss your neck too

You two on a case of some crazy X file and Mulder getting bored in the car and singing along to the radio.

Whenever you feel upset he doesn’t leave your side, like at all

Fox is a super romantic man, he could see you’re cold on a case in the middle of the night and give you his big trench coat that was significantly too big for you.

He absolutely adores when you do his makeup, there’s something about you practicing your makeup on him that he just really thinks your concentration is cute.

The first time Fox realised you had taken his heart was when you got sent to work with him on a case in the middle of nowhere Oregon when you were focused on reading, he just..fell for you.

NSFW

Fox Mulder is a switch. You cannot tell me otherwise.

He likes when you wear his glasses and ride him, it just makes him so hard.

He likes missionary and cowgirl.

He REALLY likes your ass in pencil skirts..

Mulder is a tits man, he just loves squishing them, putting his head on them and obviously putting his cock between them.

You two once had sex in a rental car on a case.

You wanna know why he always wears that long coat? To hide his damn boner when you bend over in a skirt or trousers.

Remember when I said physical touch is his love language, it has two meanings..

He LOVES when you leave hickeys on his neck, people in the FBI don’t really call him ‘spooky Mulder’ when they realise his ‘innocent’ little girlfriend gave him those hickeys.

He absolutely loves when you sit on his lap and when you grind on his lap he just loses it completely.

Sorry guys this is my first time ever writing for Mulder so I hope I did good :)

[postmodernbeliever]

how to relax - fox mulder x female reader (smut)

a seemingly endless case in the middle of nowhere has you stressed out of your mind, to the point where the only thing that doesn't push you too far is fox mulder. with all that stress and no way to reel yourself in, your partner decides he wants to help show you how to relax.

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

wrote this bc sometimes we (i) just need a (toe curling) self-insert to satisfy our (my) daydreams. i dedicate this to all those who are chubby and in love with fox mulder. if you prefer to read on ao3, you can find me at the same username.

my ao3 | word count; 5,419 (i got excited, okay?)

content tags (i copied from ao3 bc im lazy): dom fox mulder, praise kink, fluff and smut, cunnilingus, vaginal sex, vaginal fingering, hand & finger kink, subspace, size difference, belly bulge, co-workers, mutual pining, idiots in love, pet names, stress relief, cross-posted on ao3, smut, subtle plus size reader, soft fox mulder, mentions of freudian shit bc come on this is the x files, talking you through it, fox is literally so awoooooga the whole time, fox gets cocky as always, fox mulder the munch, bathroom sex, fox just can’t help himself literally so i hope you enjoy

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩ ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩ ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩ ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°

you’d been beyond stressed all day, but that wasn’t out of the ordinary for you. what was frustrating was that you had managed to grow so agitated that it seemed nothing could help you calm down. 

your work with the fbi was your life, in all its stress-inducing, time-consuming, hair-splitting glory. you were as tight-assed as they came (ask literally anybody!) all of that pressure on top of a naturally anxious and irritable demeanor made you difficult to enjoy being around, and you knew it. but today, of all days, it was truly catching up to you physically. the muscles of your jaw were sore from the tension they held, fighting between your teeth for release. your head swelled between your eyes and nose, pulsing softly like a glowing light that wouldn’t dim. your throat was dry, your footsteps heavy, your hands restless; you were wound so tight that everyone you encountered feared you might snap like a rubber band, lashing against them in recoil. 

fox mulder was the only one who had stayed on your good side all day, which is surprising, given your partner was typically the casual aggressor of your everyday life- what with his constant nagging and ridiculous speculations about every crime you investigated. he never once changed his attitude, let alone change the color shirt he wore to work every day. yet it seemed this time he was off the hook, because the case you’d both been assigned was dragging like no other. 

it was your fifth day in the desolate yellow countryside of a rural town you so lovingly renamed as bumblefuck, virginia; all you possessed was an immaterial, mulder-esque lead that couldn’t be pinned down (as your fellow agent was torn between shapeshifter and werewolf). on top of that were ten dead bodies, no evidence, and a motel room with broken air conditioning, complete with a leaky sink. you were sick to death of the heat, and the town, and the local policemen who seemed to have but two executive functions: hit on you or ignore your assertions. for a stagnant fifth day, you’d experienced more frustration than ever- the cops have begun to give up on catching a suspect, fox was investigating muddy footprints all afternoon like the freak he is, and you were stuck to sit in the closet-sized archives room at the local library where teenagers and nagging townspeople came in to ogle the “fbi lady”… jesus, no wonder your head hurts. 

fox came by every so often to check on you that afternoon. once with a cup of coffee, once with half of a sandwich he’d thoughtfully taken a bite out of to piss you off, and again with dirt all over his face and a wild story about how he caught a glimpse of his x file mid-attack. if you weren’t used to his personality by now it might’ve made things worse, but in a way his teasing and subtle acts of service were the only soothing memories you had to reflect on. he was a moment of consistency between the endless chaotic installments of the afternoon. 

at the end of the day, you were mentally exhausted, hungry for the other half of that sandwich fox ate, and in need of the shitty motel bed; at the very least some peace and quiet, just for one night. but it seemed your partner wouldn’t let you have it. 

you’d had about an hour to yourself before fox materialized in your motel room. after a shower that quickly ran cold, you slipped into a sweatshirt, a threadbare set of sleep shorts that were a bit tight for your pudgy legs, and two flimsy socks that didn’t match because you hadn’t packed for a trip this long. you’d tried watching the television, but the antennae were spotty no matter how you arranged them. the air conditioning machine clanked and whistled nonstop, and hiding under your pillows didn’t dull the racket. the best part was when you tried to light the little bedside yankee candle and the lighter ran out of fluid- but not before it sparked and burned your thumb. you’d finally begun to decompress when a familiar knock sounded from outside. summoning a forcibly loud groan- so your tall visitor heard exactly how you felt- you clambered off the creaking bed and towards the door, which revealed his trademark smug smile. 

“good evening, watson!”

“what do you want?” you sighed, closing your eyes. 

you felt his hand push your shoulder to the side, and the man squeezed past you into the room. you scoffed and said, “oh, please, make yourself at home!” 

“i will, thank you,” fox teased. “i came to check on you.”

“because?”

“well, you’ve been a wreck all day! didn’t laugh at one of my jokes. you nearly bit the sheriff's head off tonight when we checked in at the station before leaving… i just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“oh? well, you know what? no, mulder, i’m not okay. we’ve been stranded out in the middle of nowhere for a week with no leads and no progress and the food here sucks and i haven’t had a single good night’s sleep and all my socks are dirty!” you ranted, pacing in front of the half-open door like a lunatic. 

fox grinned as if he knew something you didn’t and turned from you, heading towards the tiny bathroom tucked in the corner of the room. you slammed the front door shut and followed him, snapping, “what, you come in asking how i feel and just walk away? explain to me how that makes any sense, mulder!”

the agent leaned against the bathroom sink, hands laid curiously on the lip of the counter. he dutifully watched the little crystal droplets that fell rhythmically down the ceramic bowl. the air surrounding him felt charged, like if you stepped too close, you’d get shocked; almost as if his thoughts were electrifying the oxygen. 

he frustrated you beyond belief sometimes. the man stood in your bathroom like his day was going perfectly fine. a gray t-shirt clung to his lean arms, hugging the curves of his biceps like it was tailored for him alone; his sweatpants were black and littered with lint from the hairy couch in his apartment, and they hung low on his hips, peeping the waistband of his black boxers like a well-known secret. his hair was pointing every which way in its tawny misdirection, and he had the nerve to inspect your sink, and lick his lips like he had all the time in the world to enjoy the southern sticks and lupine mysteries, all while you had to scour newspapers and sleep in ten minute increments to survive. 

“mulder, what the hell are you doing?” 

“your sink is leaking.” 

“yeah, i know, sherlock.”

“did you ask them to fix it?”

“mulder, i will not hesitate to kick you out.”

“jeez, somebody’s worked up.”

the man pivoted on his feet, facing you with a newfound sense of purpose. you were prepared to object his statement, but were silenced by his hands finding your hips. he was so quick to slide you up onto the counter that you forgot your rebuttal- in fact, in his rush to relocate you, you’d forgotten to think entirely. he had your thighs pinned to the cold, white countertop, and parted so he could press his tummy to the spot where your legs met. his shirt rode up in the moment, and you could feel the warmth of his bare skin against the fabric of your shorts. 

fox’s hands felt rough. you stared at them, at the sheer size, and recollected all the little stolen glances of those fingers sifting through his filing cabinets, or analyzing your field notes, or polishing his gun. countless vivid reminders of the strength of them as they pulled you back from bullets and unexpected staircases flashed before your eyes. how often you longed for them, you couldn’t say, but it was clear to you now as those same hands held you down that you had taken a serious liking to them. 

it took you a while, but you managed to mutter, “what are you doing?”

fox could only smile wider and say, “you need to relax, don’t you?” 

“what does that-”

“why don’t you let me help you?” 

you swallowed thickly, feeling a bubbling heat rise in your belly. his calloused palms rode up your legs, finding room for his thumbs to begin drawing soft, sweeping circles against your hip bones. your brain clouded so fast you forgot to answer. 

“i’ve never seen you so aggravated before… like, by every little thing. i mean, i know you get annoyed, but these past couple days have been so rough for you, haven’t they? just can’t calm down, can you? you look so tired, so tense. i can feel all the tension you’re keeping right… here,” he consoled, letting up on your hips to press a hand to your lower abdomen. when you sucked in a nervous breath, the man pressed a little harder, and you twitched beneath him. “i can fix that for you, if you want. show you how to relax a little.” 

“y-you’re not even supposed to be in here,” you wheezed, “agents… agents aren’t supposed to consort in the same room, mulder, remember?”

“awh, come on, don’t start following the rules on me now! don’t you wanna feel better, honey?” 

fox spoke like every word was a secret, leaning in close to your ear. the scruff of his five o’clock shadow brushed against your fresh face, eliciting a spidery chill down your spine. 

“what’s gotten into you, mulder?”

“i asked you a question, sweetheart.”

you panicked, swallowing air like it was water. these kinds of questions felt new coming from him. anxiously, you let out a shaky breath and nodded, hoping that was enough. you couldn’t handle much else.

“is that a yes?”

“...mhm.”

“can you say yes for me?”

fuck. “yes.”

“good girl. it’ll help, i promise.” 

it seemed he couldn’t be going any slower than he was just then, gingerly removing his hands from your waist and biting his lower lip like the reincarnate of a dream you’d entertained too many times before. you watched with a spinning head as his long, spindly fingers hooked under the waistband of your shorts. his pale eyes twinkled at you, sage steeped in milk, as he asked, “can i?” in that lilting voice he uses only when the room is begging for quiet. when you eagerly nodded, he chuckled, “lift up for me a little, okay?” 

you followed orders and pressed your shaky hands to the tile, raising your hips so he had room to slide your shorts down. his face melted at the sight of you underneath. 

night after night, he’d fantasized about those doe eyes of yours watching him free you up like this, but he never imagined he’d get the chance. until this afternoon, when he resolved to create the chance. through all these years working beside you, he’s only grown to admire you more. you were cunning, you were gentle with kids, you were smarter than he ever could be (even if you disagreed.) but you were also tired. you lived alone, you slept alone, you never asked for help and you declined every offer. fox hated to see you facilitate your own frustration. and this past week has only exacerbated his need to fix it- watching you so angry, so pent up, so in need of attention- he couldn't bear to let you suffer any longer. it seems he’s been lucky, too, because you sat quietly, patiently, all so that he could take care of you. grateful for the opportunity, fox didn’t want to waste any more time. 

with those dreamy fingertips grazing your underwear, fox was the spitting image of boyish charm. he admired the worn black and grey striped fabric covering what was left of you, thinking aloud, “had these for a while, huh?” 

“since i was in college,” you muttered, “everything i wore was dark back then.”

“nothing’s changed. you’re very punk rock,” he winked.

you didn’t know you were capable of laughing in your current state, but it came bubbling up in a nervous overflow. he watched your lips curl, and the way you threw your head back like you couldn’t stop yourself. you felt embarrassed to be so swayed by his stupid humor, but you had no choice. not when he had you wrapped around his finger like this.

“you’re a dork.”

“you like it, though,” he reassured. 

you watched the man hesitate, eyes darting down to your lips; you closed your eyes, hoping it would nudge him in the right direction, and you were right. fox had to crane his neck down a bit- because even with you on the counter, he was still taller- but he made himself level, and he pressed his lips to yours so gently you almost didn’t feel him there. what announced him was the taste of him, actually; stale coffee on his tongue, and what you deduced to be the black-label chapstick, the kind that tasted like medicine. you toppled into him like you were falling off a cliff, clinging to the hem of his shirt in longing. 

fox seemed to like how you hung on him. it made him feel risky. his hands meandered across your tummy, pushing up under your sweatshirt and roaming the soft skin of your back. he caught your bottom lip between his teeth and tugged softly, and when you opened your eyes in surprise, he nudged your nose like a kitten and let it go. he was good at taking control like this, at making your nerves ebb and flow to his pace. you were so entranced in the way his lips meshed with yours that when his dominant hand found its way to your hips again, you mewled in anticipation. 

“you sound a lot prettier when you’re not arguing with me,” fox joked. you met him with a soft sound from the back of your throat, and his eyebrows furrowed in amusement. “can barely speak, can you?”

“mm-mm,” you answered, trying to trap his lips again, but he pulled away. 

his eyes shifted shade, and you were now seeing yourself reflected in much darker irises. your back shivered against the mirror on the wall. he broke eye contact and let it linger on your legs, his palms swiping over the skin with intention. swiftly, he bent over and began pressing kisses to your inner thighs. you let out a strangled whine, which made him shudder.

“you want me to get to it, hm?”

“please, f… mulder,” you whispered, blushing like a fool. 

the man rose again to lock you in a soft kiss, one so much more loving than the others that it let butterflies loose in your chest. interrupting their fluttering, he prodded, “what was that?”

it was out of you before you had a chance to weigh the outcomes. “please, fox.” 

having teased long enough, fox dropped to his knees and pushed your panties aside. his mouth was so slick from all the time it spent on yours that it was dangerously warm as it pressed against your heat. you let out a lewd string of moans as his tongue trailed a long, torturous stripe between your folds, taking his sweet time getting to the top. he felt you throbbing, all the blood in your body pulsing like a heartbeat for him. his lips, just a bit swollen, peppered a few gentle kisses to the skin before surrounding your bud and starting to suck. 

you squeezed your eyes shut so hard it nearly brought your headache back. fox grunted between your hips, the pads of his fingers pressing hard into your bones. you softened for his tongue as it swirled inside your pussy, tracing shapes to drive you insane. your hands burrowed into his cropped cut and tugged in desperation, which he liked so much it practically made him growl; the sound bounced between your walls, sending a sensation into your stomach that made your legs tremble. he felt so good inside you like this, lapping like a puppy at your water; you bucked against his big nose, craving the friction, and he responded with relentless thirst for you.  

“fuck!” you whined, “fox- agh,”

coming up for a gulp of air, you caught a glimpse of his slick chin as it glinted in the yellow light. “feels good?” 

“shit,” you panted, “yes, obviously… more,” 

“more, huh?” fox licked his lips with hungry eyes. “i’m gonna need you to say please, baby.”

“jesus, fox, please! pretty please, baby, please just keep going,” 

“fuck, don’t call me names…” the man swooned at the broken cry in your voice, resolving to give you whatever you needed until the day you die. now wasn’t the time for confession, though, so he filed that away for later. “pretty please. god, you’re good.”

you nearly choked as he pushed two fingers into you, curling them in a rough come-hither motion. he bombarded you with himself, sucking hard on your clit and fucking his fingers into the swelling spot inside you, making you lurch against his touch like an animal. with your head thrown back against the motel mirror and pretty mouth gasping for him, he realized that his dreams could never do this moment justice. the sugary, tangy taste you left on his tongue, your soft skin that smelled like shower suffocating him, the way his name rolled off your tongue- you were the real fucking deal, not some half-assed daydream that got him off at night. you were beautiful, and for not being a praying man, being on his knees before you felt right. who was he to stand eye to eye with you, when down here where you were perched above him like an angel, he had so much more room to worship you? 

“fuck, i- oh, i’m…” you whimpered, grinding against his face with fervor. 

“let it go, honey, come on,” he cooed, “i’ll take care of you.” 

“b-but i- i’ve never- oh my god!”

the agent watched you battle with yourself, all the while writhing on the countertop, so he carefully brought his thumb to your clit and picked up the pace. he rose to you again, using his free arm to slither around the base of your back and pull your body flush against his. you bunched his shirt in your fists helplessly and hid your face in his shoulder. it took all his strength not to collapse right then and there, but he kept moving for you, and you rocked against his palm like you were made for it. when he realized you were going to need a little more help, he gave it to you. 

you were stressed, after all, and sometimes somebody’s just got to talk you through it, right?

“never had it this good before, hm? nobody’s ever made you cum, sweetheart? you poor thing,” fox twitted, clicking his tongue. “you work so hard. my smart girl, so good at her job, so independent… you deserve to be taken care of, to feel good, baby. to let go of all that stress,” 

you struggled to think straight as his gruff voice battled the ringing in your ears. his palm pressed against your back with so much care, like if he moved it you’d shatter into a million pieces. it was all so much, to have your partner with you like this; to hear him breathing beside you, to feel his fingers in a place you’d never thought they’d be. he saw the gears turning in your head still, and he wanted to shut your brain off for good. and god, did he. fox coaxed it right out of you like it was his job. 

“come on, good girl, you can do it,” he whispered. “cum for me, honey, i know you can. show me you can.”

for every moment of danger you found yourself stuck in, fox was there to protect you. when you got reprimanded by a director, he was there to hold your hand behind the safety of the desk. when you were late and needed a cover, he was prepared with a detailed story. you’d forgotten a raincoat a comical number of times, so many in fact that he began keeping a spare in his office for you to borrow. fox was always there, waiting to help you, to guide you, and if it was fucked up (so far as to call it freudian) then so be it- you needed it from him. you needed his safety, his warmth, the strength of his arms around you. his reassurance. 

and to hear him care for you like this, too, to pull on your strings and unravel you like a tired tapestry… god, nothing ever felt so good. 

fox’s eyes rolled back as you twitched on his fingers, moaning his name like a prayer into the stuffy bathroom air. your hands struggled to find a place to stay as they combed through his hair frantically, tugging and trembling; it was like you’d never been touched before in your life. you had, but very few times, and it was just like he said- nobody had done it right. but he had. it felt like his hands were crafted to please you. they knew exactly where to touch, how fast, how gentle, how deep. the man figured you out instantly, which was as exciting as it was terrifying. you’ve never felt so out of it in your entire life. 

you panted wildly, and fox gave soft kisses to your hair while you tried to regain your composure. but you couldn’t. you couldn’t get a grasp on anything. the world was floating in limbo around you, all inconstant; the countertop felt as foreign to you as flying did. but even in your daze, you craved more- the second he stopped, you needed him to start again. you could barely speak, but he heard your mumblings: “m…more, more, f… foxie,”

that nickname gave him goosebumps. slowly, he said, “baby, i don’t have anything with me for that,”

“don’t care. please.” you begged. there was no way he could say no to you, not when your pretty, cloudy eyes looked up at him how they did. 

“okay, baby, okay.” 

fox gave no warning, but nothing would have prepared you anyway- you instinctively opened your hips wider just to make enough room for him. he pushed all the way in, letting himself bottom out; the man let out a moan so guttural that you clenched around him in reflex. you were lucky enough to see him make that pretty ‘o’ face, and that might’ve been enough for you, honestly, but it wasn’t for him. he needed you, and he needed you fast. 

his thrusts were no match for all the grinding you could do. he snapped back and forth like a whip, hips rolling so hard that it felt like he was digging inside you deeper each time. you dragged your nails down his back, trying to find something to hold onto, but his moans in your ear as he hid his face in your neck were so distracting you kept having to start over. 

“jesus, baby, you’re so tight for me,” he grumbled, “feels so good, you’re doing so good… fuck, my good girl.”

his praise made every nerve in your body short-circuit. it didn’t matter how he moved, you couldn’t stop babbling. he tugged your hips forward a little more, making you slump against the mirror, and you clutched the countertop for dear life. 

“can’t use your words, huh, baby? look at you, smartest analyst in the fbi and you can barely speak, all because of me,” he tormented. the man pressed his right hand against your tummy again, just like he had before, and he growled with lust. he seized your hand and pressed it flat beneath his in the same spot, and he fucked you harder, forcing it down until you felt his thrusting beneath your palm. you never thought you’d feel anything like this, not with your soft stomach, but he was making it possible.

“you feel that, pretty? feel me inside you, filling you up? you’re mine now. all mine.”

you had no control. you whined, “foxie,” jerking your hips against his cock in a craze. 

“god, that’s right, that’s my girl.” he smiled.

“s-so… a-agh, please!”

“mm, i know, baby, keep going,” 

you had no more words left, you’d used them all. fox had figured out how to take away all your stress, yet in the process, he took your whole mind with it. now you were just his, a thing to be kissed, a fleshy body for him to praise. for a control freak, you loved being the one under another’s control for once. 

you scratched at fox’s shoulders, a mindless drop of drool dribbling from the corner of your mouth. you felt his cock as it swelled against your slick walls, and how it poked against your insides, and if that weren’t enough, he moved his hand to your clit again and resumed rubbing those blissful circles into it. you could only sit there and grind against his touch, muttering strings of curses and unintelligible sounds.

“agh, baby, you’re so pretty like this,” his moans were growing harsh, turning into whines. “all fucked out, mm, so pretty for me,”

his hips started snapping erratically, and your back arched against the increasing speed. his teeth met your shoulder and he bit softly, grumbling, “i’m so close,”

in what felt like a cry but came out as a strangled whimper, you warned, “m’gonna… agh…” 

fox watched your face screw up in pleasure, and it pushed him right over the edge. your body collapsed as you let go, and he rushed to hold you to him and keep you upright. all the way in your gut, where your hand once rested, you felt him pooling all over, thick and warm. his thumb swirled you slowly, working you through it so you didn’t get too shocked. he was stationary for a while, unable to move from the overstimulation; but when he did, he watched the stuff bubble out of you, though only just a bit. his throat closing up at the sight. he gathered some of it on his fingers and raised them to your lips, and you licked them sweetly. his stomach churned as you gazed down at his hand with foggy eyes, somehow still lustful after all he’d done to tire you out. 

“good job, baby, you were so good for me,” he crooned, leaving sloppy, tired kisses all over your neck. “someone’s gotta take care of you, don’t they?” 

you just murmured little hums, and he loved every second of it. 

“you hear me, pretty girl? nobody takes better care of you than me, you got it? who takes good care of you?” 

“foxie,” you admitted in your mindless bliss. 

“that’s right, baby, foxie does. you’re all mine, honey,” he gushed. “not so stressed anymore, are you?”

“mm-mm.”

“are you okay? take a deep breath for me.”

you tried to speak, but the words weren’t forming. you couldn’t string anything together. all you could do was make quiet noises and mutter his name. “mmph… foxie,”

“here, come here, honey.” 

fox tucked his hands beneath your thighs, and after instructing you to wrap your arms around his neck nice and tight, he carried you from the croaking bathroom sink to the motel bed, where he took extra care in laying you down comfortably. he climbed on top of you and adjusted your shirt, smoothing the fabric over your plush tummy and drawing a dopey smile from you. 

“stuck in your head, hm?” fox asked. 

he’d read up on this type of thing before- subspaces. typically common in BDSM practices, but not exclusively. there was a study conducted that detailed the experience theoretically as a headspace induced by rushes of endorphins, causing the receiver to fall into a trance-like state. he remembered reading how when someone is in a subspace their ability to communicate can be impaired and so can their judgment. it was also suggested that asking grounding questions may help coax people out of them (don’t ask how he found such a study.) so being the guy he is, he took everything very slowly from there, and followed the science. 

“can you hear me, sweetheart?” 

“mm.”

“good. what’s my name?” 

your stomach fluttered at the question, and warmth pooled between your hips at the softness with which he asked, but your brain was two steps behind. it took you a minute to answer, and you could only do it with your eyes closed. “foxie,” you muttered. 

“good girl, good job. that’s right,” he rewarded you with a kiss to the collarbone. beneath his breath he muttered, “fuck, if that isn’t cute.”

he could see you were somewhere else. all of your behavior was so needy. you might’ve thought you were a headcase before, but he’s no stranger to id impulses either; he saw how you pushed into his palms, how you refused to let go of his shirt, and he just wanted to help you through it. he wanted to make sure you felt safe. 

“baby, can you open your eyes for me? can you let me see your pretty eyes?” 

you peeked through one and saw his handsome face staring back at you, that toothy grin blooming flowers in your chest. slowly you opened the other, and even though the world was swirling, you managed to keep them open.

“you’re doing so good, thank you, baby,” he chuckled. “now, i’m gonna put your shorts back on, okay?”

“m’kay.” 

you took a deep breath. he watched your chest rise and fall, and your cheeks burn even redder than he thought possible. your hand held his wrist tightly, tight enough that he prayed your nails would leave little moon-shaped marks behind. you shook your head and tried to wipe away the fuzzy feeling. 

“what’s my name again?” he asked, noticing how hard you were trying to focus. he tapped on your hip so you’d know to lift them, and he wriggled your shorts back on, admiring how they hugged the skin.  

“f-fox.”

“good. what’s my job?” 

“you’re… a profiler,” you volleyed, feeling a little more grounded with each passing second. 

“good girl. and where are we, honey?”

you squinted at him and smiled, “bumblefuck, virginia.” 

when fox laughed, it felt like all the angels rung their bells. something about seeing his face light up and whatever was plaguing him, whatever he was in danger of, just wash away in the moment was nothing short of enlightenment. you wished he’d laugh more, so you could see divine intervention on the regular. 

“coming back to me, hm?” 

“yeah,” you giggled. 

fox leaned down and pressed a kiss to the corner of your mouth. “i’m trying not to let my ego explode right now, you know,” he smirked, “i never thought you wanted me so bad.” 

you blushed, hiding behind your hands. “i… oh, god.”

“no, no, it was cute! really. you… you don’t know how badly i’ve wanted to do that.” he promised. 

“i’ve never felt-” you paused, wondering if it was worth saying. yet, if he could bring you back to earth after fucking you stupid, what secrets could you hide from him? “i’ve never felt like this about anyone before.”

“who, me?” fox laughed.

“mhm. it’s just…  agh. you. it’s only you, fox. embarrassingly so.”

it was his turn to blush then. fox leaned down to catch you in one more kiss, and you felt his hand search the bedsheets for yours so he could tangle your fingers with his own. he didn’t want to break away, so he said it right into your mouth, pausing for air: “god- i have- loved- you for- so long.”

fox couldn’t help but feel proud of himself as he laid down between your legs, resting his head on your warm belly like it was a pillow. you instinctively took to his hair, playing with the chocolatey tufts and wishing he’d never move. he fit so perfectly right there, and now you couldn’t ever let him go. you didn’t want to.

with one last kiss to your hip, fox grinned. “told you i could help.”

[pocagreen]

FOX MULDER IS SO FINE

I AM STARVING FOR MULDER FANFICS I swear I am loosing my mind I have read pretty much everything on both tumbler and ao3. I NEED a multi chapter straight up BOOK I wanna see Fox and reader meet, work together, fall in love, get in a relationship, relationship fluff, occasionally some smut?, be in an ADORABLE relationship

longer fics always end after they get together!! I wanna see them get together AND THEN get a whole bunch of fluff chapters NOT ONE OR THE OTHER 😭

THE PEOPLE ON THIS PLATFORM ARE SOO TALENTED SO I TURN TO THOU IN DESPERATATION 😔

PLEASE SOMEBODY 🙏😭😭

[triplehmunson]

𝙋𝙊𝙑: You work in the FBI and by orders of your boss in command you had to team up with three of your coworkers, to carry out an investigation against a very powerful mobster. The problem is that you don't get along very well with your colleagues who are Mulder , Scully and Pena when you inform them that they have to do this job together, they all get upset because mainly Scully doesn't trust you because a couple of weeks ago you "promoted" very quickly and you're already in the major leagues and she thinks that just for your "beauty" fools men, after about two weeks and after a lot of work and investigation you shut Scully's mouth up because thanks to your contributions to the job, they managed to catch the gangster and you and your other three colleagues congratulated them and You were promoted.... In the end, you and Scully smoothed things out and started a friendship.... and possibly you find love in Javier since they got too close and forged a great friendship and mutual affection. (You are Lizzie 💕)

[asifyoudidntknow]

All Time Favs

I began reading fanfic in my teens during the original run of the show. There were lonnng breaks from it, but coming back to the fandom in 2017 reignited my interest. I now keep a spreadsheet as well as a "to read" list. I already have almost 600 logged (not including 5 years), so I wanted to share my top favorites. Divided into my 4 favorite genres (AU, casefic, angst + romance, and smut + romance) and in no particular order...

*Alternate Universe*

I used to wonder why someone would choose to read AU. Then I read one of these and was completely blown away.

Katherine of Ireland by Jenna Tooms (gossamer)

Katherine, princess of Ireland is married to Walter, king of Angora. When Walter is killed during battle, Katherine is taken by the enemy, FitzJames. William is FitzJames right hand. When FitzJames orders her to be beaten (even after discovering her pregnancy) William devises a plan to save her, heal her and get her back to Ireland. Will William always be seen as the enemy or will Katherine come to see him for who he truly is?

By the dim and flaring lamps by @sunflowerseedsandscience (ao3)

Civil war AU’s are my jam and this was one of the first ones I read.  When Mulder discovers (disguised boy) Scully bathing in a waterfall by darkness and realizes what he is dealing with will remain etched in my brain forever.

In darkness by DKSculder (ao3)

What if Scully was married to Daniel?  What if Daniel was a serial killer?  What if Mulder was a VCU agent still?   This is an unfinished work, but the idea is unlike any other I’ve come across.

Blinded by the white light by DashaK (ao3)

Need I say more?  When Mulder and Scully find each other after colonization, will they remember each other and will they act on it?

The second side of light by @scapegrace74-blog (ao3)

Oregon Trail.  Mulder is leading scully and Melissa across the trail when Melissa dies.  They end up getting very close to one another on the journey.

Paracelsus by profuckslove (ao3)

Another amazing civil war AU.  When Mulder goes looking for his lost son and comes across a pregnant scully what will happen to them?

Hiareth by profuckslove (gossamer)

Wales 1215.  Scully escapes the king by marrying Mulder, the prince of wales.  Marriage leads to love and fighting off dangerous men.

Paracosm by @softnow (ao3)

This is an unfinished work.  College AU.  Mulder has a crush on the library girl, will she return his advances?

A companion unobtrusive by @slippinmickeys (ao3)

A college AU where scully is looking for a roommate and Mulder is looking for a room.  Melissa introduces them and the rest is history.

Qui Si by Trixie (gossamer)

After accepting an offer from a gypsy to go back to a life with Samantha in it, Mulder, a child psychologist, helps Scully, a PhD, get over her past.

You he did not fail by extraordinarily_ordinary (ao3)

Scully abruptly leaves TXF after surviving cancer and moves to LA to start anew.  She is dating when Mulder is assigned as a profiler to a case she is working and they have to deal with things left undealt with.

Five years and a lifetime by @monikafilefan (ao3)

Mulder is a Peds psychiatrist. Scully is a Peds neurologist. They meet at a conference and have a one night stand.  What happens when they come to work together 5 years later and Scully is a single mom?

Amish country by lolabeegood (gossamer)

Mulder and Scully go undercover in Amish country trying to catch a serial rapist while navigating very traditional values and roles.

You and me by lolabeegood (gossamer)

Mulder leaves his wealthy parents to serve under Scully’s father in the military.  In order for her to stay safe, fed, and clothed she needs to marry.

The mountain man by aka Jake (gossamer)

Scully is sent from nyc (where she was becoming a doctor) to Montana at her father’s wishes.  He wants her to marry a lieutenant under his command and not practice medicine, but she becomes intrigued with a local mountain man.

The countess/the earl by @slippinmickeys (ao3)

When scully is to be married to an old duke in order to save her family from financial ruin, a strange, alluring earl steps in to save her.

*Case*

There is nothing quite like a casefic. It's classic x-files and I am here for it. Writers in this fandom are so talented with their abilities to create a fic that rivals/trumps actual episodes.

Perchitor by @aloysiavirgata (ao3)

A little girl goes missing in the mountains with the superstition of Jenny Greenteeth to blame.  Mulder and Scully investigate while navigating a new physical relationship.

Omens by @lepus-arcticus (ao3)

I read this one as a WIP and was anxiously checking for an update every night.  There were several lines in this fic that made me gasp.  Cancer arc angst. Give me it alllll.

XII by fragilevixen (ao3)

A killer that romanticizes every victim.  His next target?  Guess who.  *coughSCULLYcough*

Hearts desire by malibusunset (ao3)

While in a small town scully runs into an old BF and starts wondering why she doesn’t prioritize her dating.  She decides to go for it.  The author makes me like Scully’s old flame.  That says something.  When the MSR convo finally does come, I thought I’d die from the slow burn.

Resurgam by opheila_interrupted (ao3)

One of the most xfiles like cases I have ever read.  Remains unsolved at the end and has our agents investigating ghosts near Mulder’s hometown while dealing with their own (Emily & Teena).

Universal invariants/laws of motion by @syntax6

Scully is engaged to Ethan throughout the first season while her and Mulder’s relationship is deepening and then consummated right before she is abducted.  How do two guys in love handle Scully’s abduction and what happens when she is returned?  

All the way home/head over heels by @syntax6

Mulder is pulled into a past unsolved VCU case of a killer with a shoe fetish while navigating a new physical relationship with scully.  When scully is targeted, Mulder has to gamble with his personal feelings while working to find the killer.

Queens gambit by Suzanne Schramm (gossamer)

Under Kersh, Mulder and Scully are assigned to a VCU case Mulder worked in Utah in 89’.  The killer was put to death and then revenge began.  Local mines and children involved.

*angst + romance*

This is my crux. Angst in any way, shape, or form. Add in some slow burn/ust and finally the rst *chefs kiss* particularly fond of Ethan fics and cancer arc.

Contact high by penumbra (gossamer)

Still feeling the residual effects of the spores post field trip, our agents try out Mulder’s new waterbed.

Early on by @sunflowerseedsandscience (ao3)

10 vignettes set during season 1.  Our baby agents are becoming close, but Ethan is still around.  How does scully navigate her relationship with Ethan while working with Mulder?

Center Mass by @kateyes224 (ao3)

Another Ethan fic set in season 1.  Mulder and Scully make an effort to get to know one another… in more ways than one.  And when Mulder gets aroused at Scully’s marksmanship it’s all over for me. 

One blue line by sarie_fairy (ao3)

IVF arc.  Scully is defeated by a negative pregnancy test.  When Mulder tries to comfort her, she suggests having sex.  I just remember wondering if I was reading or actually doing the act myself considering how detailed it was.

Salt by anjou (gossamer)

I remember reading this and being like WTF is happening to only have it all make sense at the end leaving me speechless.

Triptych by @iconicscullyoutfits (ao3)

My favorite FTF, post bee, how the f*ck did they get out of anarctica fic.

Snowbound by malibusunset (gossamer)

After missing their flight and being snowed in their rental on the side of the road, discussions lead to their relationship.  Once they’re recused they are put up in an inn with 1 room.  Dun, dun, dunnnn.

The ache by @storybycorey (ao3)

1999 Mulder has a visit with 2015 Mulder to urge him to get help with his depression and not lose scully.

Love bites by living_underground (ao3)

A review of vampirism cases throughout the years.  Hickeys from Ed.  Love bites from Mulder.

Goshen by bonetree (ao3)

Mulder and Scully are in a car accident where their car can’t be seen.  Major injuries lead to near death experiences and visions of Emily.

All that our senses can perceive by wonderland (ao3)

Mulder’s POV looking over Scully’s transformation from girl to woman and how all of his senses perceive her.

Caught in the Act I by parrotfish (gossamer)

Although the whole series is amazing, the first part is my favorite.  I love when scully lays into the review panel about being sexist.

The things she carries by @edierone (ao3)

One of my favorite cancer arc fics.  When Mulder confronts Scully 3 years later on the porch I literally stopped breathing.

Red valerian series by dashakay (ao3)

Scully looks to skinner for comfort during a grueling case, starting a 6 month affair.  Will scully ever love him or will the buried truth prevail?

Sex and Loathing by malibusunset (ao3)

Scully takes a drunk Mulder home after Roche.  He makes a move and they have terrible sex.  After 2 years of poking at each other they face things head on after Mulder almost dies in PBV.

Snakebitten by @onpaperfirst (ao3)

Set throughout season 5.  My favorite season. Say no more.

Five years and one night by Shalimar (gossamer)

When Scully transfers to LA and Mulder finds more babies like Emily, can they work together again to get to the bottom of this conspiracy?

The letter by Shalimar (gossamer)

Post TFWID, scully goes searching for more clues to her and Mulder’s past lives when she comes across a letter in a local Apison museum she sent to Mulder.

*smut + romance*

It's hard to have just smut when it comes to MSR, am I right? these two idiots are so in love that my smut category must also be romantic.

Undercover swing by 2momsmakearight (ao3)

What if Mulder and Scully go undercover as a married couple interested in swinging?  Can they both keep their jealously in check?  

Be kind, rewind by OnlyTheInevitable (ao3)

To help catch a suspect, skinner requests our agents watch porn together.  While watching, conversation leads to critiques about the performance and comments about personal preferences.

Girl 77 by mojo

A stripper is found dead with Mulder’s card on her.  She looks exactly like Scully.  Scully notices and confronts Mulder about it.

Dropped call series by @phillippadgettwrites (ao3)

Phone sex, but make it “not them”

December 31, 1984 by @phillippadgettwrites (ao3)

When Mulder saves an unimpressed scully from some jerk on NYE, they end up at her apartment having a one night stand.

Damsels by @sisterspooky1013 (ao3)

Scully is sent undercover as a stripper to find a missing woman.  Mulder is kept in the dark regarding her case, but pieces together where she is and what she’s doing and sets out to find her.

The Shirt by Audrey Roget (gossamer)

Skinner reconciles with Sharon leading to a vow renewal celebration. Skinner asks mulder and Scully to stand with him as his best agents. After slow dancing together, mulder bolts out of the celebration before scully catches the bridal bouquet and he crosses a line. When they end up in an accident while driving in a storm, things come to a head in an Elvis inspired motel suite out in the middle of nowhere PA.

[cecilysass]

Milagro Fic Recommendations

These are good for any time of year, of course, not just February 14. But here are my favorite fics related to the season 6 episode Milagro, a long time favorite. (And @sisterspooky1013's favorite episode of all time: happy VD, girl!) I’ve been reading and sifting through these for some time, and I have tried to include some from all eras: newer AO3 fics, some written right after the ep aired, etc. But I'm sure I've missed some, so hit me with your own faves, please.

Because of Milagro's ending, this entire genre of fic tends to be heavy on the hurt/comfort and angst (which is fiiiiine by me), but that’s not all that’s here. Many of these are smutty, but not all.

Adagio - Terma99 A meditative, peaceful take on the aftermath of Milagro by a veteran author that includes both agents realizing something they had learned. Lovely.

Alma - 6hoursgirl (@sixhours) A lovely hurt/comfort Milagro piece. This one is Mulder POV, which is a little less common for post-Milagro, I think, and I like this characterization of Mulder as desperately wanting to help Scully, desperately wanting to protect her, but also a tiny bit scared of the intimacy and relationship he feels they’re on the cusp of. He’s so good-hearted and also a little dysfunctional here, and I love it.

Bated Breath - dreamingofscully (@dreamingofscully) This one has an original take on Scully's experience; it leaves Scully with clarity and new direction in her relationship with Mulder. DreamingofScully tends to write a more confident, in-charge Scully in the MSR than some do, and I appreciate it.

Beyond the Strokes of a Typewriter - storybycorey (@storybycorey) When Scully is stricken and ashamed that it’s been so long since anyone has seen her as a woman as Padgett did, Mulder is pushed to revelations. Mulder 3rd person POV. Very good smut build up. And nobody does a gorgeous feelings reveal from Mulder like storeybycorey, man.

I Believe - Diana Battis There are a lot of lovely, heartfelt hurt/comfort fics about the aftermath of Milagro (for obvious reasons), but this one is especially well done. Viewed from Scully’s third person point of view, it focuses on Mulder’s capacity for tenderness and guilt. Plus some smut.

Don’t Look Up - ArtemisX5 After Padgett's hallway revelation, Scully is horrified that she has no secrets left. But you know, Mulder is much slower on the draw than she gives him credit for. There is also such moving hurt/comfort in this.

Intimacies with Strangers -mldrgrl (@mldrgrl) This mid- and post- Milagro piece has Mulder and Scully simmering in tension and then boiling over. Their relationship is complex and painfully entangled, and I love how it plays out. There is also excellent Scully characterization. This one helps me to get more fully why she might have been drawn to Padgett initially, something I struggle with in the episode.

La Madrugada - h0ldthiscat A carefully told tale of RST that takes both characters seriously and is sincerely moving. Excellent.

Lacuna - Aloysia_Virgata (@aloysiavirgata) This is a longer work, not really a classic post ep per se. But I love this moody, angsty casefile set right after Milagro. This Scully has not come to terms with her emotions, is thoroughly freaked by how she reacted to Padgett, and hasn't even entirely worked out how she feels about Mulder. There is Scully/other here, but the ship is steering home. The end of this is so moving, but cw: dark themes in the casefile, extreme violence against children, traumatized agents.

Still Life - Seek_Its_Opposite (@seek-its-opposite) Ah, this is such a thoughtful and exquisitely written Scully character piece — and it contains some truly beautiful insights about Mulder, too. It suggests the heartbreaking idea that Mulder’s way of showing Scully respect (giving her distance) is continually hurting her. So tragic (and consistent with canon, e.g. Never Again.) One memorable line: “Every one of their fights is about how to care for one another, every last one.”

Alma Gemela - matchingfabric (@matchingfabric) After the events of Milagro, Scully (and Mulder) get accustomed to platonically sharing a bed for comfort. This is a slightly different take on post-Milagro. Exceptionally, irresistibly sweet. Oh, and smutty.

What did I miss? Tell me. And yes, I'm working on my own short Milagro fic that will be coming soon-ish.

[arazialotis]

Ceilings

Pairing: Dean × Reader

Word Count: About 3700

Summary: The reader is finishing up a hunt and is hesitant to head back home. Inspired by the song Ceilings by Lizzy McAlpine.

Warnings: Mild Smut, Angst, Grief/Mourning, Season 15 Spoilers

This is purely for a hobby and my enjoyment. Maybe some of you will enjoy it too. I am by no means a writer so I apologize in advance for any mistakes or grammatical/spelling errors. I appreciate any feedback or suggestions!

---

The brown spot in the corner of the ceiling held your attention. What had once been a pristine and ornate building had since fallen into a state of disrepair over the decades. The plaster moldings reminded you of art deco, and the crown cornices on the border showed a level of craftmanship barely found in today's practices. Yet, from years of neglect and lousy state budgets, necessary upkeep and repairs had long since been postponed. As a result, moldings had crumbled, cracks ran up the wall and into the ceiling like tree branches reaching for the sun, and that brown spot now grew wet with condensation as you watched it gather in the middle. The drop was near heavy enough that at any moment, it would fall. The sheriff would have to situate his trash can under it if this rain was to keep up or grow any heavier.

Dean cleared his throat and, from the matching red leather chair beside yours, nudged your knee with his, effectively breaking your concentration. A warm smile grew as he longing looked at you. His suit coordinated well with yours, navy blue and a green tie that failed to compete with his eyes. You felt a flush crawl into your cheeks, and you pinched your lips together, mixed emotions welling up.

"I still can't believe it," Sherrif Cadwell huffed, signing off on the last of his forms. "If I hadn't been there with you, seen it with my own eyes."

If you had to guess, he was younger than your typical run-ins with sheriffs, early to mid-thirties. But the optimism for growth and change for his township and the system at large clothed him in a juvenile naivety. Additionally, you couldn't deny the fact that he was attractive. His eyes shone like stars in the night sky, his nose was slightly crooked (you learned during your time on the case together) from a bar brawl he was the cause of during his college years, and his lips were full, the kind that would feel plush against your most sensitive spots. You couldn't help but squirm in your chair, but you could feel Dean take notice as his gaze traveled over you.

He continued. "Honestly, I still feel like I need to check myself into a psych ward."

Your chuckle drew his gaze from the papers. "Even after years in the business, I feel the same way. Someday I might grow used to it."

"Well, I couldn't have done it without you, Agent Steinhardt. Thank you again." He conveyed with the utmost sincerity.

Your smile filled the room full of sunshine on this rainy day. "I think we are past the pretense of FBI and aliases now."

His demeanor matched yours. "I'm not convinced. I know an X-files agent when I see one."

"If you ever do cross Mulder or Scully, put in a good word for me. But seriously though, if anything," You struggled to find the right words. "Out of the ordinary comes across your path again; the number on that business card will ring true."

"And is that number good for ordinary things as well? Say, uh, dinner or drinks before you head out of town?" He sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck.

You looked down at your feet to conceal a blush. It wasn't the first time someone had made a pass at you on a job, but Sherrif Cadwell was the first to stir up this reaction. You took a deep breath and recomposed yourself. You could feel Dean's eyes burning against you, analyzing each move, every reaction. His finger sat against his lips, silencing himself, waiting for your response.

A pit formed in your stomach. "While I'm truly flattered, Zack," You paused, the words caught in your throat. "My heart belongs to someone else."

You looked to Dean, but he remained the same, piecing a puzzle together, trying to communicate something unspoken. Despite your interest in Sherrif Cadwell, nothing compared to the energy and the swell of your heart while looking at him.

"I understand. It wasn't my place anyways, but I knew I'd be kicking myself in the ass later if I didn't take a shot." His bashfulness and sensitivity tugged at the strings of your heart, making it even harder to turn him down. "Whoever he is better know how lucky he is."

"He knows." Dean's voice was a warm whisper that barely registered.

The sheriff stood, signifying the end of the meeting; you rose as well, the old chair groaning as you did. Zack extended his hand over his desk, and you accepted, shaking it.

"It was a pleasure." He ended.

Upon leaving his office, the single room spilled into a once grand hall with polished mosaic tiles and pillars that supported high arched ceilings. The sheriff's department was small, consisting of three other staff. Their open office was bordered by low wood paneling, separating them from the other departments this building housed; the drain commissioner, mayor, parks and recreation, to name a few.

You were at the gate that you could probably step over when Sherrif Cadwell called after you.

"Hey!" His steps were heavy as he rushed to catch you. "You forgot this."

Zack held up one of your many homemade EMF meters. It was still switched on, barely crackling static as it scanned the area. No pitches squealed, or lights flared. You took it from him, switched it off, then threw it back. He caught it with ease.

"Keep it." You instructed. "It could come in handy."

A few more thanks and pleasantries were exchanged, but eventually, you found your way to the main lobby. The rain pounded like crescendoing drums against the roof. An employee who entered the building through revolving wooden doors lowered their umbrella, shaking off the rain droplets before leaning it against a coat rack. You had lacked the foresight.

"We could just swipe that one," Dean remarked.

A faint smile accompanied the short huff of an uncomplete laugh. Not entertaining the thought further, you pushed through the revolving doors requiring more exertion than anticipated. Immediately out of the building, you were drenched. You didn't stand a chance. The marble steps lead down to the street and across to a park that might be a nice place for employees to lunch, given lighter weather. That Impala waited for you, parked just a few paces away at a meter. You looked up to the sky, blinking away the rain that fell into your eyes. You hoped for a break in the clouds, even a thin patch where the glow of the sun hinted that it still existed.

"Y/N," Dean feigned impatience, but you could hear the amusement in his voice. "Let's go."

You looked at him longingly. He was your sun and your storm.

"What?" He questioned. "What? Oh, don't get all romantic on me now. You wanna dance in the rain? This isn't a Gene Kelly movie."

Your lips pinched together, holding your breath as he stepped closer to you, his radiance not hindered in the slightest by the downpour. His begrudging attitude melted to tenderness as he took your hands in his. Goosebumps prickled up your skin as the space between you closed. And then he spun you around like a leaf dancing with the wind. Laughter finally consumed you as you ran to the Impala. The keys jingled in your hand, and the hastiness of escaping the rain caused you to fumble with the lock.

The door creaked open as you found refuge inside. Your shallow breaths quickly fogged up the windows.

"Fantastic," Dean said dryly. "This is great for the upholstery."

You shimmied out of your jacket, and Dean's sarcasm vanished at the sight of your soaked white blouse now clinging to the peaks of your breast. The sheer fabric revealed the outline of the bra underneath, yet even that barrier did not hide how the chill of the rain had affected you. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw him swallow a lump in his throat. You fished for your heels, throwing the shoes in the back seat along with the jacket.

"You could have said yes," Dean whispered. "To the sheriff."

You gripped the steering wheel tight, staring blankly ahead as a pit knotted in your stomach.

The words that left you were barely audible. "I didn't want to."

The car's bench squelched under your weight as you shifted, and he drew in from the passenger seat. "Why not?"

A sharpness caught in your throat. Your eyes drifted to his; every detail, from the gold hidden in the forest of his irises to the freckles that dusted his face to the faded scar just above the bow of his lips, was perfect.

Your voice caught, but it still came out in an echo. "You know why."

Dean inhaled sharply, his eyes lingered on your face, only once looking back down at your blouse. He searched for permission, and when he was met with no resistance, his hand snaked behind you and into your hair, guiding your lips to his. Although there was a hunger present, his kiss was soft like clouds. Not the clouds above currently carrying the storm, but pillowy white clouds scattered on a summer's day. A delicate moan escaped your lips and into his, craving more, to which he took every advantage of your parted mouth. The fog layered thicker onto the glass windows, and you'd have to turn on the defroster before driving away.

Your heart pounded against the cage of your chest as you parted, never wanting to end the moment. As you turned the key, the engine sputtered to life with a rumble of thunder. It sat idle, and the warm air began to erase the remnants of your breath away. But even as it became clear enough to drive, you sat unmoving. The rolling of the engine and the patter of the rain were the only sounds. Dean lounged against the passenger door; one arm outstretched on the top of the bench, the other brushing the stubble against his jaw. His boosted confidence apparent from what had been shared seconds before.

He grew impatient, waiting for your next move. "Are you heading home?"

Your sharp inhale was the only response.

He turned it over in his head. "It's late enough, and we could afford an extra night."

Your toes curled in anticipation, hoping for ulterior motives behind his statement.

By the time you arrived back at the motel, the room had been cleaned. It was a simple establishment, but the family who owned it poured their souls into keeping it welcoming and updated. The bedsheets were crisp from a recent laundering, and they smelled not like the fake cheap lilac fragrance most cleaners were filled with, but real, fresh lilacs just beginning to open on a bright spring day. The tulle curtains swayed in front of the open window. There was no fear of the world outside peering in; the motel was near vacant, and the storm would drown out any sounds from within.

From Dean's outbursts to his impulsivity, one would think that would translate to a fierce and forceful lover. Of course, he could be in the heat of the moment, but that was not his default. Instead, he was tender and giving and took his time, extending precious moments to last deep into the night.

Seeing you now, wringing your hair with a towel and the wet clothes hung to dry, he restrained himself. The only sign of hunger in his eyes, the way he drank you in, and the flick of his tongue over his lips. He closed the gap between you. Goosebumps prickled on your bare skin from the chill carried on his damp clothes. His hands hovered over your shoulders, electricity sparking in the space between.

Your hands trailed up his chest, your breath shaking as you did. Your hands reached his tie and loosened the knot before snaking it around the nape of his neck and letting it fall to the floor. Continuing their journey, your hands moved to his shoulders. A small chuckle flew from both of you as you clumsily attempted and failed to remove his jacket. He helped you along by shrugging out of it. Next were the buttons of his dress shirt that went more slowly. Dean stared down at you in admiration as you carefully undid each one.

When he was finally fully free, your breath caught gating your emotions, and you met his eyes again. Dean guided you down to the bed, and you landed gently on the down-feathered comforter. His lips showered your neck in kisses as intimate as the sweet hymns whispered from Orpheus to Eurydice. His eyelashes against your cheeks felt like wisps of the wind carrying with it the song of chickadees.

Bracing himself with one hand above your head and the other gliding against your waist to steady both of you, you granted him passage to paradise. The praises and moans were as delicate as the rest of the encounter. Attentive to every reaction and response, he composed his movements into a soothing melody. Dean took your hand in his; the other left your waist as he fisted the sheets in his palm. Your souls entwined together, locking for all eternity. The drop ceiling with beige vinyl tiles stared down at you. You squeezed your eyes shut, and your free hand drifted down to your apex to help reach release.

Long into the night, when it was over, Dean laid on his back, panting to settle both his breath and his heart. You laid on your side, intently studying the curves and angles of his body. With a final deep breath, he found balance. The sheets rustled as he turned to meet your gaze. His brow furrowed, unable to read you.

"Sweetheart. What is it?" His asked.

You couldn't muster the words and shook your head no. He drew you into him, cradling you. Safe in the cocoon of the sheets and his arms, you breathed in, trying to capture his faint scent competing with the lilac. Juniper and eucalyptus. Or was it cedar and sage? You couldn't recall and drew in deeper.

"Don't leave me." You whispered into his chest.

"Never." He promised.

---

Sunlight poured into the room. The brightness disrupted a pleasant dream. Birds chirped and splashed in the pools of puddles outside the window. Your eyes blinked open, no longer able to grasp the dream. Where Dean was supposed to be was cold and empty. The sheets crinkled as you reached over, searching for him.

Your hair was brushed aside as a peck greeted your temple from above. "Time to get up, sleepy." His voice much deeper than when he called out your name last night.

A whine was all you could conjure. You pulled the comforter over your head, hoping it would cave you into darkness and hide you from the day. You wished to stay in the relief of sleep forever. Dean's footsteps grew farther away.

"I'll head back without ya." Dean teasingly threatened.

So much for promises.

---

It was silent on the road home. There was no music, no words exchanged, only the constant rumble of the engine. The roads were eerily empty, and all that surrounded you were yellow fields of wheat and corn ready for harvest. The flatness of the plains stretched incessantly as if you were caught in an endless loop, never to arrive at your destination. The steering wheel was cold in your hands, and the Impala complained when you accelerated. Perhaps louder than normal, and it felt like you had to push harder, almost like tar had built up in the interior. She certainly needed a tune-up once you got back to the bunker. Dean stared out the passenger window, his knuckles brushing lazily over his lips, watching the rows and rows and rows of fields go by. Lost in a thought that he wasn't going to share and you wouldn't ask about.

A sign welcoming travelers to Kansas signaled the growing end to your journey. Your breath shuttered. Dean's eyes glanced at you, but you refused to acknowledge him. Like a toddler testing boundaries, he nudged your knee with his. A gesture that normally would cause a blush to rise, fondness to grow instead stirred up panic. Your knuckles grew white, gripping the steering wheel. Fifteen minutes out from Lebanon, a cry escaped your lips. Dean saw then tears had started to stream down your face. You pinched your mouth closed, ashamed of losing control. Dean shifted towards you, his arm resting over the bench. His hand drew up your neck to the base of your head, massaging small circles.

"Shhh." He cooed. "It's okay. It's going to be okay." He repeated the mantra to calm you.

You finally broke on your way through town—the whimpering and shaking breaths held back for no one. Dean held the nape of your neck in his hand but had ceased movement, staring ahead as you drove closer to the bunker, praying you could maintain control of the Impala despite your state. He could no longer provide you comfort.

Pulling into the garage, you parked the car but didn't have the strength to shut it off. So it sat there running idle. Your growing pain manifested into sobs and wails. Dean pulled you in, his arms wrapping around you. You clung to his shirt as if he would vanish at any moment.

"I can't do this without you." You sobbed into nothingness.

He pulled you back, his eyes raking over you almost to see if you had been injured. "What are you talking about? I'm right here, Y/N. I will always be right here."

He placed his hand over your heart as if taking pulse and then against your cheek. You squeezed your eyes shut, leaning against his soft touch. His thumb brushed away a tear from your cheek, but more kept coming. His soft lips hovered over yours, but the taste of the bitter ocean was too distracting to claim the solace he offered.

The Impala sighed as she was granted permission to rest. The engine clattered as it began to cool. You curled into yourself, lying on the bench with your knees tucked into your chest. Her tin roof sheltered you, and the tan upholstery above yearned to blanket you, for she too, wept.

---

Miracle was under the table in the library, curled up around Sam's feet as he typed away on his laptop, consulting a few reference books now and then. Aside from the clicking of the computer keys, the bunker was silent. Sam's hair was tied back in a half-bun, a new style for him, but it concealed the unkemptness better. His tired eyes checked the cell phone, scrolling to your number but hesitating not to let worry get the best of him.

Miracle's ears perked up, and his collar jingled as he lifted his head, catching the sound of a door that opened as silently as possible, like an intruder not wanting to get caught. A whisper between a bark and a ruff huffed out as he alerted Sam of the sound of friend or foe; to Miracle, it was still to be determined.

Sam reached down and scratched behind Miracle's ear reassuringly. "Who is it, boy?" He exaggerated the enthusiasm of his voice. "Go get her."

Miracle barked louder this time as he stood, his tail half wagging. Sam continued to encourage him along. The clatter of claws echoed against the concrete as Miracle finally took the initiative to investigate for himself. Sam waited for you and Miracle to return to the library, and he waited some more, but soon he found himself wandering the halls, hoping to check up on you.

You stood on the threshold of your old room. Everything was in place just as Dean had left it. The bed was neatly made, the weaponry displayed on the mantel, and the few touches you added. You couldn't bear to remove your items from the room but couldn't bear to sleep there either. Miracle sat patiently at your side, his tail thumping against the ground. He pawed at your leg, and you half-heartedly ran your fingers over his soft fur. Miracle nudged you further, hoping for more effort, but was happy to receive any amount of attention. Your duffle fell at your side; unpacking would halve to wait until tomorrow. All that had happened in this room replayed in your memory.

"Hey," Sam called from down the hall. You had been near radio-silent; he was anxious for an update, but more importantly, how you were holding up. "How'd the hunt turn out?

When he reached you, his brow furrowed, and his features dropped. Your eyes were red, and your cheeks were puffy. Even without the sniffle topping it off, it was obvious you had been crying.

"What happened?" He asked. "Are you hurt?"

The levees you had forced up to walk back in here broke yet again. So many tears had been wept it was impossible to believe more would come, but they did. They poured out.

"Oh, Y/N," Sam's voice shuttered.

He grabbed you by the arm, forcing you against himself. His solid frame anchored you and held you so tightly it almost hurt. Sam was the only rock you had left to stand against the pounding waves. Your cries of anguish muffled into his flannel. Sam had thought he, too, had run out of tears to cry, yet holding you in your shared pain caused his eyes to well up. He tucked your head under his chin, hoping to provide you comfort, and protection, and peace like a hen gathering chicks under her wings. For what seemed like an eternity, you held each other there, sharing and spilling tears until you were too exhausted to shed any more.

Your voice was worn and hoarse, but you had to ask, desperate for a ray of hope. "Will it ever stop hurting?"

Sam sighed. "I don't know." He answered honestly.

And you didn't even know if you wanted it to. The pain, the loss, the grief, it made Dean real. It meant your time together on this earth had meant something. And the memories, the visions, imaging he was still with you, though they burned, they let him live on.

You buried yourself further into Sam. "I miss him so much."

"Me too, Y/N. Me too."

---

[lilydalexf]

👽 April Fools' Day X-Files Fic Recs

No joke, here are some very good X-Files fics involving April Fools' Day. Enjoy! April Fool's Day Series by GirlGone OK, someone challenged me to write a story that wasn't an X-File, a serial killer study, a girlfriend story or a mushy Scully-Mulder romance. I thought about it for awhile and this is what I came up with. April Fools? by A. Dean Written in response to Deb's picture challenge from the US magazine. April Revolution by Foxie Meg "The streets of Paris are burning once more." bad ideas in bed by @wtfmulder Drabble; R; fluff, smut; Scully x Reyes; Prompt: “It’s called a prank.” Bloody Hell by @baronessblixen Happy April Fools’ Day! Mulder is just trying to pull a little prank on Scully... it doesn't go well. Fifth Day in Paradise part 1, part 2 by Kate Rickman En route to the scene of an X-File, Mulder and Scully are stranded in the snowy wilderness after their rental car breaks down on a deserted road. Instead of finding their way back to civilization, they stumble into a treacherous plot that could cost them their lives. Through it all, Scully struggles to accept her deepening relationship with Mulder. Folly by @rivkat Starts in early Season Four; after TFWID, Season Four doesn't happen; instead we take a strange journey into conspiracy, experimentation, and speculation. Leave A Message by Amanda Finch and Tim Scott Our favorite agents' terrible, horrible, no-good, very bad day or "When Good Pranks Go Bad". (Check your local FOX listings.) The Man Without A Trace by @syntax6 Insanity Outrunning Moirae by Jennifer Oksana and FirePhile Mulder gets his usual vague information from an informant. It leads him across the country into unbelievable government mischief. Meanwhile, as Scully tracks the case from DC, she starts to question everything, including her own identity. Set around season 5. Wrapped in the Wind Series by RocketMan This is a Romance with Mulder and Scully and a little baby girl. Much like The Emilys, if you liked those.

[pennyserenade]

Below the cut is a list compiled of X-Files fanfic that I've enjoyed in the past month or so. Some of these fics (or maybe all of these fics) are ones that are probably well known by this fandom, but they are new to me. The purpose of this list is both to share my recommendations and also to have something to refer back to when my mind gets to wondering about one of them. There's nothing more heartbreaking than losing a good fic you remember vividly. Special thanks to those beyond incredible websites like X-Libris and Gossamer, as well as tumblr users with impressive fic recs such @lilydalexf, @enigmaticxbee, and @randomfoggytiger.

THE X-FILES ORIGINAL SERIES era:

SHORTER STORIES:

The Angle of the Wrist by pqlaertes (1.7k) (explicit):

season four, cancer arc. A heartbreakingly good, soft smut story where a concerned Mulder watches intently over a sick Scully, and loves her in his own ways. 

LONGER STORIES:

Inspection by IngridGradient (22k+) (explicit):

set seasons one through seven. Beginning in season one, Mulder and Scully begin to inspect one another’s bodies for ticks after certain field cases. What begins as a rather innocuous exercise gradually forms into something much different than intended. I loved this because it felt very Mulder and Scully in the way it was full of yearning and all the flirting and the loving was done so silently as to be almost deadly to the two of them. Mulder is so sappy and in love in this, too, and I adore it so much. Also it's hot! 

*Equilibrium by astronaught (currently at 14k+) (teen):

currently season one through eight. A deep look into the ever-adapting relationship of Fox Mulder and Dana Scully throughout the series, as well as the agents themselves. Begins in season one and offers insightful and moving analysis for each of the seasons. This one is truly literary and absolutely breathtaking. The author is beyond talented, offering insightful and touching analysis of these two brilliant characters in a decidedly brilliant way. I’ve re-read many of these chapters, not only because they are so good, but because I feel there’s always more to find within them. This isn’t finished yet but it is definitely worth checking out.

Overnight Sensation by Syntax6 (50k+) (explicit):

set in season six, between Tithonus and Arcadia. A peeved post One Son/Two Father’s Scully debates her future with The X-Files and Mulder. She ends up taking a case in Boston to try out another life for a size, and Mulder - being Mulder - follows her out there. Chaos ensues when past grudges (and loves) are dredged up, and a killer continues to unleash hell on the city of Boston. This is another good profiler Mulder fic and also a lovely jealousy fic. Mulder was such an ass in season six and some of Scully’s decisions in this feel a little gratifying. I wouldn’t say it was so much explicit in the case of sexual situations, but definitely in terms of the content surrounding the murders. Another to be wary of if you can’t do dark, but very, very good. This author is excellent at case file fics. 

All the Way Home by Syntax6 (48k+) (explicit):

set early season seven, a bit after The Sixth Extinction: Amor Fati. Mulder is forced down memory lane when a serial killer he tried to help catch years ago seemingly comes back -- and he wants Mulder’s attention. This one I remember being distinctively creepy. It's definitely what I would consider a case file fic and I highly recommend it (but you ought to know it does get dark and if you feel uncomfortable with say, the contents of Silence of the Lambs, you should be wary of this. If you can get through that then you should be okay, though). I love the way this writer writes Mulder and Scully, and quickly found that I’m quite attached to fics where Mulder is a profiler. It’s a different and captivating side to him and I love, love, love the way the author weaves who Mulder is into how he responds to cases such as these. Mulder is such a nuanced individual and this author always writes he and Scully with such respect and accuracy. I would not be surprised to find out they have also written X-Files episodes in real life. 

Eclipse by Diana Battis and Alanna (20k+) (explicit): 

set in season seven. Scully asks Mulder to help her conceive children and they spend the next few months fighting that battle together, close as they ever have been. This story is so heartbreakingly tender and I fear my heart won’t ever recover from reading it (especially with that ending).  

Parabiosis by Penumbra (50k+) (explicit):

set in season seven. Mulder and Scully’s relationship as it evolves during the era of season seven, with a little bit of Mummy casefile to top it off. This one was a bit hard to wrap my mind around at first, but once I got the hang of the structure, it was smooth sailing from there. The way this author writes Mulder and Scully’s evolving relationship is beautiful--almost so intimate that you feel intrusive just for reading. I couldn’t put it down. Also, I must say this in relation to this fic: Chris Carter, eat your heart out.

X-FILES: I WANT TO BELIEVE era (either pre or during):

SHORTER STORIES:

Phenomenology by h0ldthiscat (3.6k+) (explicit):

Mulder wakes up frightened, afraid something has happened to Scully when he can’t find her in bed, and she comforts him. This is angsty but very good.

Porch Sex by icedteainthebag (1.8k+) (explicit):

I love, love, love a good flirty Mulder/Scully fic. This is definitely that. See also: the addressing of height difference during doggy sex. *chef’s kiss*’

LONGER STORIES:

Gravity by Malibu Sunset (26k+) (explicit):

Follows Mulder and Scully inside their life of exile, with Scully working as nurse and Mulder flying entirely under the radar; that is, until the events of the movie take place and he’s able to have a life outside of the unremarkable house again. I love this one for a lot of reasons -- the domesticity of Mulder and Scully, in which we get so little of in the original and revival series; the talk of William, of what they lost, and what they continue to lose; and the soft, comforting vignettes in between it all. I’m also particularly fond of the descriptive but accurate sex. It’s not always perfect (an aging Mulder has to wait until he can get another erection; they have drunk, imperfect sex while the lasagna cooks; Scully doesn’t cum each time; and Scully - yes even Scully - gets UTIs). 

THE X-FILES REBOOT era:

knock three times by wtfmulder (1k) (explicit):

season eleven, plus one. Scully initiates sex with Mulder in the connected motel rooms. I have a special place in my heart for smut with an older Mulder and Scully. This is short and sweet and absolutely perfect. 

THE X-FILES aus:

LONGER STORIES:

You He Did Not Fail by extraordinarily_ordinary (85k) (explicit):

seasons one-five, deriving from the plot a little after Scully goes into remission. Scully has left Mulder and the X-Files behind without an explanation, taking a reassignment in L.A. Needing an expert profiler to help her with a difficult case, Scully asks Skinner for one from Washington D.C. Mulder ends up being the one she gets, and he comes with lots of questions about her departure, along with the heavy weight of their shared past together. Scully is made to make some difficult decisions while she and Mulder make headway in the case. This fic was so good I devoured it in a single day. This derives from the plot in a way that I found equal parts realistic and painful, and I love the Mulder we get in this. He feels like Duchovny’s own deeply sorrowful man, who just can’t seem to catch a break no matter how he tries. Oh, and he’s deeply and pitifully in love with Scully. Scully too feels so well fleshed out here. This is an incredible, and perhaps more realistic, take on a plot I’ve always regarded with some questions in The X-Files, and it gives Scully back some agency that she deserves.

[muldermuse]

Fox Mulder Masterlist

Fox Mulder X Reader: One Shots

Peanuts

You meet an interesting stranger at a bar

First Date

Your first date with Fox

Halloween Party

Your boyfriend, Fox Mulder, convinces you not to go to your work Halloween Party

The Best Medicine

Fox takes care of you when you are ill

Jealous Fox

Fox gets jealous when he sees a coworker flirt with you

Houseplants

Fox helps you move into your first apartment

A Hard Day

Fox helps you through a bad mental health day

The Name Game 

You and Fox struggle to decide a name for your kitten

The Most Haunted Forest in South Carolina

Fox invites you camping 

Jealously, Jealousy

Fox doesn’t like how interested Alex Krycek is in you

Okay is not enough (Part 1)

Your family are being held captive by one of Fox’s previous encounters

Fox Mulder X Reader: Headcanons

Protective Fox Mulder

Fox has a crush on his coworker

Subtle ways Fox shows he has a crush

How Fox acts around Reader

Reader gets jealous of Fox’s new coworker

NSFW version of above^^^

NSFW Fox thoughts

Fox misses you

Reader’s birthday

Your cat loves Fox

Fox cheers you up

Forgetful mornings with Fox

Fox misses you after a trip (some nsfw)

Fox loves lingerie (some nsfw)

Dad!Fox Mulder

Dad!Fox Mulder 2

Modern Fox Mulder

Fox is a Buzzfeed Unsolved fan

Halloweeny Fox Thoughts 1, 2 and 3

Muldermuse October Writing Fest

Spooky Pyjamas (Dad!Fox Mulder x Reader)

A new family tradition is started

A Halloween Announcement (Fox Mulder X Reader)

As title states...it’s a halloween announcement

Trick ‘r Treat (Fox Mulder X Reader)

Fancy dress SMUT

Halloween Party (Cat Dad!Fox Mulder X Reader)

Fox has a party with your cat

Haunted House (Dad!Fox Mulder X Reader)

You come home from work to a haunted house

Halloween Card (Dad!Fox Mulder X Reader)

Fox receives a special card from his family

Ghosts (Modern! Fox Mulder X Reader)

A drabble about doing a ghost walk with Fox

Fox is creative (Modern! Fox Mulder X Reader)

Fox loves Halloween recipes

Ghost Hunting (Fox Mulder X Reader)

A hc about ghost hunting with Fox

[internet-sadass]

Can't Keep My Mind (Or Hands) Off You (Fox Mulder x pregnant!female reader)

Blurb: Mulder can't keep his mind, or hands, off you now he's got you pregnant, which leads to a little lunch break fun in his car.

Warnings: smut, car sex, pregnant sex?, breeding kink

A/N: If anything about pregnancy in here is not realistic, oops, I have not been pregnant and I tried my best to research the symptoms etc. Also, the reader works at with the FBI but doesn't work with Mulder on the X Files. She does come and do admin work for him (like photocopying and bringing him coffee) because that's what a good partner does 😘

"Okay, so I managed to photocopy these photographs for you. They're not the best quality, but I'd say they're passable. I mean, you can still make out the shape of a figure in the tree line. I'm guessing that's what you need them for, right? Identifying weird humanoid figures." 

Mulder nearly dropped the folder he was holding. 

"You're not wearing a bra." He stated, completely matter-of-factly, despite how he stared at you.

It was true: you had forgone a bra that morning and opted for a white vest under your blouse instead. Your breasts were constantly aching now you were well and truly into your first trimester. Wearing a bra meant you would wince all day and be unable to focus on anything except how sore your chest was and how much you couldn't wait to tear your bra off as soon as you got into your car at the end of the day. But today, you weren't in the mood to suffer hours of feeling like someone was squashing your already tender breasts constantly, so no-bra it was.

You scoffed, rolling your eyes playfully at Mulder as you set the thick pile of photocopies on his desk.

"You're observant this morning. Did you listen to anything I just said? Or do you need me to repeat that all while you," You tilted his chin up so his eyes met yours rather than admiring the twin peaks of your pert nipples against your blouse. "Keep your eyes up here." 

Mulder placed his hands on your waist, running them down over your hips. Since you'd shown him the four identical positive tests and the doctor had confirmed that you were indeed pregnant, he'd found it incredibly hard to keep his hands away from you. Everything he'd loved about you and your body was amplified tenfold now. And right this instant, your significantly fuller breasts, the healthy flush across your cheeks, and your pretty eyes staring up at him were destroying his normally undying devotion to his job. 

"Yeah, yeah, I heard you, don't worry. The photocopies. Thank you, sweetheart." You were pulled closer to him, very much breaking the 'no touching' rule you had agreed on to prevent the pair of you from losing your jobs over inappropriate workplace behaviour. "More important is, why aren't you wearing a bra? You're not, you know,” He lowered his voice, “lactating?" 

You laughed, shaking your head.

"Nope, not yet. Going to be another few months before that happens. They're just sore, that's all, and wearing a bra is getting pretty intolerable. So, no bra." 

As you explained, Mulder’s hands wandered over the changing contours of your body, settling, as they always did, on the subtle hump of your pregnant belly. Even if he couldn't feel anything, since the baby was no bigger than a plum at this stage, he felt an instinctual need to place his hands protectively over the warmth of your lower stomach. Sometimes, he swore he felt something stirring within you, but he knew it was just his very wishful thinking. 

Snapping back into the present moment, Mulder recalled that you said that your chest was hurting.

"Can I make them hurt less? Please." He whispered, hands drifting up to cup just below your breasts. He leaned close to you, kissing your cheek so softly that his lips barely met your skin. 

You shivered at his touch, wanting nothing more than to feel his hands on your sensitive flesh, to have his mouth on your skin, kissing over your sensitive areolas. Another kiss was placed on your cheek, making you groan. As much as you, and presumably Mulder, wanted to take the day off and spend the whole time rolling around in bed, you knew that would have to remain a fantasy. 

"Later. I promise. As soon as we get home, I'm all yours." You placed your hands on his chest, smoothing his shirt. "We can last until the end of the day, can't we?"

Mulder wasn't sure he could last that long. How could he if you were walking about looking so damn irresistible and beautiful and full? 

Clearing his throat, he finally released your body from his protective grasp. 

"We can, yes." He lifted the photocopies you'd made. "Especially if I have to go take a look at this sasquatch. Keep my mind occupied." 

‘And off your gorgeous body’ , He added mentally. 

***

"Oh, please be gentle- ah, careful!- please be gentle with me, Fox." You whimpered, arching your back against Mulder's torso as he pulled your vest up over your breasts, catching on your nipples, making them sting. His hands settled on your breasts, cupping them, weighing them in his hands. They certainly felt bigger to him, filling up more of his hands than before. 

"I'll be gentle, don't worry. I'll be so gentle with you, doll." He whispered back to you, brushing a thumb over one of your nipples, making you keen and squirm against him. After many hours of being unable to think of anything but you, he was glad to finally get his hands on your body and touch it as much as he (and you, of course) wanted. As much as it was your body that was making him harder and harder every passing second, the way you begged him to be gentle with you and your heightened reactions to his touch only added fuel to the fires of his arousal. 

The pair of you hadn't made it to the end of the day. When Mulder got a minute, he found you and nearly dragged you out to his car. He'd driven to a slightly more private place than the bureau car park, and both of you moved to the backseat, kissing each other like a pair of teens who'd finally got the house to themselves and were free from the prying eyes of their parents. Now you sat on Mulder’s lap as he touched you, drawing all sorts of pretty sounds and whispers from you by just lightly touching your tender and aching chest. 

Every caress, every careful touch of your tender breasts was a sweet mix of painful and pleasurable. You were in ecstasy, arching your back, grinding against Mulder's thighs, begging him to ‘stop’ and ‘keep going’ simultaneously. The sensation of him sucking and kissing at your neck only made you more desperate and aroused. Though you winced whenever your flesh was squeezed, your eyes almost rolled back into your head when he rolled his thumbs over your nipples, drawing circles on them just as he did with your clit every time you two got intimate. Your climax felt embarrassingly close, considering he’d done nothing more but grope your breasts and kiss your neck. The fact you could feel his erection, so hard it was almost painful for you to be sitting on, only added to how turned on you were. 

"P-please...I want more of you. Touch me more." You panted out, seizing one of Mulder’s hands and moving down under your hiked-up pencil skirt. He pushed your panties aside and slid the tips of his fingers along your leaking slit. Thick, creamy arousal gathered on his fingers and leaked onto his trousers, staining them with a prominent damp patch. 

"God, you're so wet." Mulder mused as he slid two fingers into you. There was no resistance whatsoever, as your insides welcomed the intrusion of his fingers, twitching around them. You groaned and bucked against his fingers as they pressed up into the most sensitive part of your insides. 

"A-all because of you." You said, struggling to speak as you couldn't focus on much else except how good it felt to have your pussy spread open by Mulder’s fingers. 

He chuckled, scissoring inside you before pumping his fingers in and out of you at a steady pace. 

"That's not true; it's not all my doing. It's because of your hormones, too." 

As he toyed with your pussy and rolled your clit under his thumb, slick leaked out, soaking his hand and the leg of his trousers. You writhed about on his lap, grinding against his stiff length. It was Mulder’s turn to moan as your movements threatened to make more pre-cum leak from his slit and wet his boxers. He wanted to be inside you so badly, especially as he could feel how wet and pliable your pussy was right now. A whine left your lips as he slid his fingers out of you.

“You’re so needy, aren't you? It’s cute.” He mumbled as he guided you to lie across the backseat. Placing one knee on either side of your hips, he straddled you, leaning down to kiss you as he undid his belt.

You smirked against his kisses.

“Speak for yourself. You can’t even pause to take your pants off. That desperate to be inside me.” You whispered back to him. 

Mulder didn’t fight back with words. Inside, he moved his mouth from your lips to your nipples, running his tongue over one of them, swirling around the hard nub. You winced and groaned, your body unable to decide whether it liked the sting of your oversensitive buds being touched in such a way. Seeing your reaction, he moved to the other nipple, bringing a hand up to gently squeeze your breast and circle his thumb over your now wet nipple. You writhed about under him, switching between arching your back, pressing your chest up to him, and shrinking away, trying to escape but finding no way to roll away from him without falling off the seat. 

Feeling as though he had ‘tortured’ you enough and got his fill of toying with your gorgeous chest that had been distracting that whole day, Mulder lifted your hips, lining your entrance up with his weeping tip. He entered you, earning a sharp gasp of pleasure from you as you wrapped your legs around his waist, forcing him to stay hilted deep inside you. 

This was what Mulder had been thinking about all morning. Even with a particularly promising case to chase up, all he could think about was you and being inside your intoxicating tight, wet heat. As much as he wanted to draw out the process of rutting into your velvety insides and feeling you clamp around him as you said his name over and over, he simply couldn’t hold back. He pounded into you, filling the car with the slap of skin on skin and the sickenly wet sounds of his cock spearing open your soaking lips. You looked so perfect below him; your pupils blown out, your skin sheening with a light layer of sweat, your neat office makeup beginning to run as tears squeezed from your eyes, your full breasts bouncing with every thrust of his hips. To top off the view of you, looking more beautiful than ever, the way you were saying his name every time he hit your deepest and most sensitive spot was something he knew he’d replay in his head whenever he couldn't be with you. You swung from breathing out his name in pants to calling it out to barely whispering it as your orgasm broke and made you fall apart under him. He already knew he loved you, but at that moment, as you said his name in a barely audible tone and looked up at him with doe-eyes full of adoration, it felt like that love grew tenfold.

“O-oh, god, fuck, I love you.” 

Words fell out of Mulder’s mouth, very much beyond his control, as he felt the heat of his orgasm spread from his lower belly and along his length. He felt himself fill you with spurt after spurt of his hot seed, his cock pulsing as it emptied its load into you. Reluctantly, he pulled out of you, smearing his tip over your swollen folds, unwilling to let any of his cum go to waste. 

You sat up, a wave of dizziness washing over you. Clearly, so much excitement and activity had put your delicate body under some strain, and it struggled to cope. You looked down at yourself, noticing the gradually growing puddle of cum leaking out of your entrance. The more you sat up, the more that leaked out. You groaned at the sight; it almost made you want to go another round. 

“God, you always cum so much. No wonder I got pregnant the second time we tried. Your car seats are ruined now.” You said, laughing as you forced yourself to sit fully upright and start making yourself look presentable again.

Mulder shook his head at you, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

“They’re leather, so that won’t stain or mark them. And aren't you glad we didn’t have to keep on trying to get you pregnant?” He said, nudging you.

You rolled your eyes in mock annoyance at his remark.

“I don’t think either of us would have minded it taking more than just two times without a condom. Not that we need condoms or an excuse to fuck like rabbits anymore.” You joked, helping re-do Mulder’s tie for him, kissing the tip of his nose.

***

Scully was waiting for Mulder when he rushed back into his office, still looking much more dishevelled than a man coming back from a completely average and normal lunch break should look. 

"Mulder, where were you?" She asked, looking him up and down, folding her arms like a parent would do to a misbehaving child.

"Um...Lunch." Mulder fumbled with his answer, knowing as soon as it left his mouth that there was no way in hell that Scully would believe that he’d just been away getting lunch.

"For over an hour? It took you that long to get lunch?" She pressed, closing the door to his office as he searched about his desk for the photocopies of the sasquatch you’d made him earlier. 

There was a long and uncomfortable pause as Mulder stared at the photocopies in his hand, trying to think of a way to answer Scully’s question. At this point, he knew it was basically pointless to carry on giving her excuses; she had worked out what he’d been up to the minute she saw him. Finally, he thought of a (pathetic) reason for why he’d disappeared for nearly two hours. 

"There was a queue. A long one." 

[baronessblixen]

Twenty questions for fanfic writers

Tagged by the amazing @frogsmulder. Thank you!

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

417 🤯

2. What's your total AO3 word count?

774,561 - I wanna get to a million now, wow

3. What fandoms do you write for?

The X-Files, Frasier. At least on AO3. I have way more fandoms on ff.net (where I used to post).

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Prompts & Drabbles

Fictober 2020

Fowl Play

Love is Not Blind

Some Things You Just Can't Fake

5. Do you respond to comments?

For a while I did and then I forgot again and I'm always afraid I will reply to someone but oversee someone else. In theory I want to respond to all of them! I just got two amazing ones in the last two days. So thoughtful and so plain kind. I definitely need to reply to these people.

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

I wrote one where Mulder dies (of old age, though) but I'm not even sure it's on AO3.

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

All of them have a happy ending! I don't think I have a story without a happy ending.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

I have. Mostly in the distant past, but I think some more recent hate too. If I remember correctly, it wasn't directed at a fic in particular but rather at me as a writer in general.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

I have written a few smut stories. I know it's a popular genre, but I gotta be honest and admit that it's just not my favorite. Neither writing nor reading it. I know that's a very unpopular opinion.

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

Again, not on tumblr, but I think I wrote a Frasier/Hot in Cleveland crossover once.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I know of.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Hmmm. I think maybe one?

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

I have! I co-wrote Eden with a bunch of others! I mean we each wrote chapters but that still counts, right? It was a lot of fun and I'd love to do it again.

14. What’s your all time favorite ship?

Mulder and Scully

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

My Five Minutes Series. I think about it so often but I like the chapters I have written a lot and I'm afraid to screw it up by writing more.

16. What are your writing strengths?

I'm decent at writing dialogue.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Everything. I struggle with describing an environment or surroundings. I gotta admit I sometimes even skip reading those parts when other people write them. I don't see those things in my head.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

Technically I always write dialogue in another language since English isn't my native language. I've written a few German fanfics and that was a lot of fun. Might do it again.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

It was either Friends or X-Files. Or if we count stories I only wrote for myself then it's Scarecrow and Mrs. King.

20. Favorite fic you’ve written?

Can't choose between my babies!

Tagging @xxsksxxx @randomfoggytiger @agent-troi @numinousmysteries @oohnotvery @atths--twice (feel free to ignore if you don't wanna do it!)

[postmodernbeliever]

okay so first of all love your work so far, thanks for sharing!! second i was thinking about how easily fox would get a hard on in public, like you give him a single word of praise or you say his name in a certain way and suddenly his work pants are feeling incredibly tight and his hands are running all over his face and he has to stay behind his desk or maybe stick a pillow down against his groin just for a little bit of relief and you barely even did anything

anyways i want to scream i need him so bad

payback- fox mulder x female reader (smut!!!!)

it takes very little to get fox going. one touch, one word, and he’s putty in your hands. so one day, when he's a little too much for you, you decide to hit the man with a little payback- and god, it's worth it!

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

to whoever sent this ask in, babeeeee I DROOLED!!! i hope i completed the fantasy for you, even if just a little ;) put my own twist on it. hope you enjoy. <3

my ao3 | word count: 4,010

content tags: smut, teasing, public hand jobs, light angst, fox is needy as hell, you’re kinda hot… damn, cross posted on ao3

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩ ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩ ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩ ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°

it was embarrassing, honestly. he just couldn’t keep it together. fox isn’t typically so easy– well, in a way he is, because he knows just as well as you do that pretty much anything will set him off. but he’s always been good about hiding it in public… at least, he was before he met you. 

for a guy as horny as he is, you’d think he would thrive under pressure. you’d seen plenty of guys respond to the feeling, seeking a reward, and it would make sense for fox to fit this approach; he was cocky, often to his own detriment, and he pushed until he got what he wanted, whether that be top-secret files or a diet coke from the vending machine. he was a go-getter in every sense of the word. but the second his brain couldn’t keep up with his crotch, he became a lost cause. you liked that about him. it was so easy to get him flustered, and when he was, it was adorable; he tripped up every other word, he got fidgety, he struggled to comprehend even the simplest of conversation, and all that dysfunction was the result of a touch or a sound. 

you learned of this little talent of his the first time you visited him at work. the two of you hadn’t been dating long, but anybody in the same room as you could recognize the disgusting eyes the two of you gave each other. as much as he made your heart flutter, he also made your hips ache, and you were just dying for him– and he felt the same. he couldn’t get enough of you. one afternoon the agent gave you a ring on your cell phone and asked if you wanted to take your lunch break with him, and you laughed and informed the man you’d called in sick for no other reason than you couldn't bear to go into work that day. so he insisted you come and hang out with him in his office, at least for a little while, and you had no problem saying yes. when you got there, you finally got to snap the missing piece of his puzzle into place; the walls screamed of his nature, of his passion, the insanity that turned everyone but you off of him. all the files and disorganization piled high around him like a palace throne, and he sat in his squeaking desk chair, king of it all. you could’ve drowned in that room almost as badly as you wished to drown in him. you’d brought food from a shop down the street, and he ate it gratefully, and you talked his ear off for hours about cases and what it’s like to shoot a gun and have you ever seen any vampires?, and after a while of letting you see him in a space intimate as that, he was getting himself all worked up. you sat so pretty on his desk as he had his back to you, rifling through case files and showing you confidential things he could get fired for. you also looked so pretty when you gazed into his microscope in the back of the office, playing around with all his toys. but when you walked over to where he sat behind his desk and touched all his photographs with curious eyes, and said, “looks like you’re good at your job, fox,” you learned for the first time how easy he was to please. you ogled how he crossed one leg over the other and let out a frustrated groan, and how every move you made wasn’t so much admired as coveted; you saw pleading eyes, a dry mouth, restless hands running up and down his legs and over his blushing skin. you saw how once he couldn’t take it anymore, he cornered you by his favorite poster and kissed you right beneath the saucer, and you’d never forget it.

you didn’t wield this power too often, because you didn’t want to frustrate him. it was so easy to get him riled up and leave him hanging, but you didn’t always have the willpower not to help him out after the fact. and who could blame you, when you have a six-foot-tall government agent for a boyfriend, noisy and whiny and brutally hot all at once? torturing him was fun, yet it had to be done sparingly. but it was a good kick in the back of the knee when he was getting too aggravating, and you could use that leverage right about now.

all day, fox had been getting on your nerves. it takes a lot for him to annoy you because most of the time if he's getting arrogant, you find it attractive. but today was a different situation. the agent came home early, pissed off beyond reconciliation, yet another official reprimand to stain his personal file with the bureau. he burst through the door with a mouthful to spew, and you’d hung around him all day as he paced the floor and brooded over his desktop full of files. you did just about everything you could to cheer the guy up; you made him fresh coffee, you threw his favorite sweater in the dryer so he could pull on something warm, you’d even called in a chinese food order so he could get something in his stomach. but none of it was working. when you tried to play with his hair, he brushed you off, and every time you kissed his shoulder, he’d meet you with near indifference. if you didn’t know how much he loved you, you might’ve slapped him, but this mood wasn’t one he could just get over. he was snappy and tired and upset, and there was only so much you could take, so when hours had passed and he was still being a grump, you decided to get some fresh air– but not without an ulterior motive, of course. 

with freshly set curls and the darkest lipstick you had on hand, you primped yourself to go out for a drink with a few girls from work. they invite you every friday night and you always decline, because there is typically a certain man waiting up for you– but that man seemed not to care, so you chose to take them up on the offer this time around. you shuffled through your blended closet, pulling one of fox’s suit jackets off the rack and draping it over your bare shoulders. you wore a little black dress with a sweetheart neck that stopped just above your knees, the very dress you wore on your and fox’s first date. shoving your feet into a pair of kitten heels, you clicked your way out of the bedroom and into the apartment, standing squarely before the television so fox was forced to take a look. 

“what do you think?”

you watched his big eyes trail up your pantyhose-clad legs, admiring the lacy pattern, and a smile quirked on his lips. “pretty. hey, you’re wearing the dress.”

“i’m going out,” you sighed, blowing past his acknowledgement.

“out? where?”

“some girls from work invited me to grab a drink at the bar,”

“but it’s friday night!”

you rolled your eyes, forcing yourself to tuck away the mischievous grin you felt creeping in. “well, i’ve been stuck inside all day with you, debbie downer. i wanna go have a little fun.”

the man shifted in his seat, expression turning sour. “so you’re not gonna hang out with me tonight?”

“baby, i’ve been trying to hang out with you all day. you just keep brushing me off.”

you crossed the living room to the foyer, where your purse sat on his dining room table. he got up and followed you in, and when you turned around he was right behind you. he had a softer look about him, something like regret, and you had to remind yourself to stand tall in the face of your biggest weakness.

“i’m sorry. i’ve been an asshole.”

“yeah, you have.”

“you know i love you,” he frowned, “more than anything in the world.”

even in heels, you still had to push onto your toes to reach him. with a soft kiss to his cheek, you replied, “i know you do, don’t worry.”

“but you’re still going out anyway,” he huffed.

“i am. but…” you pushed on his chest so he’d take a step back, “if you want to come with me–”

all of a sudden he had floppy ears and a tail, his sparkling eyes full of hope that you’d already forgiven him. “i can come?”

“sure, you can come… it’ll be work friends, though, you have to be social.”

“psh, me? antisocial? love, you’re crazy.”

you giggled as he hurried off to the bedroom, rushing to change out of the work clothes he’d sulked in all day. you leaned against the wall in the foyer, peeking through the door as he changed. you admired the curve of his back while he draped it with a white t-shirt and layered a henley over top, tucking the front into his jeans. you saw him reach for the brown leather jacket in the closet and silently thanked god. once he wriggled into that beat-up pair of timberlands you adored, you straightened out against the wall, working to keep your nonchalant composure. 

he did a little spin and asked in a girly voice, “what do you think?”

and in the deepest tone you could muster, you answered, “pretty.”

he scoffed, taking your hand and leading you out the door, promising, “not as pretty as you.”

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

this is where the fun begins. you got him out of the house and in public, where he can’t escape you, and you were going to have your way.

you saw it in every move he made after you placed your hand on his thigh. you sat with three coworkers at the bar, chatting and laughing while they slammed glasses of wine and you nursed a lukewarm beer. fox wasn’t a drinker, so he had a club soda and cranberry, and after a while, you started sharing his drink and leaving yours to collect sweat. you told them all about fox’s job and they questioned him endlessly about solving unexplained cases, and they all seemed to fawn over him which you expected; girls always drool over him when you’re around. he found it funny, and despite the inkling of jealousy, so did you. he seemed to be enjoying himself as he talked about his most recent case, and you smiled, because you’d been waiting all day to do this. you waited for him to finish his sentence, and you let your hand fall gently on his thigh, laughing along with the others. 

“crazy job, don’t you guys think so?” you teased, and they all nodded, yelling over each other in the chaos of the bar. 

fox shot you a look, and you bit your lip like you had nothing on your mind at all. he leaned in close to your ear and asked, “what are you doing?”

you bumped your nose into his cheek playfully. “nothing!” 

“b-but–”

“but what?” you interrupted, pushing your hand down his leg to reach his knee, which you scratched at softly with your fingernails. he felt the sensation through his jeans and shuddered. 

the agent took a sip of his drink and placed his hand over yours on his knee, stopping your teasing. he glanced at the girls who'd invited you, and all three of them were in some deafening debate, almost like you two never showed up. you crossed one leg over the other on the barstool and turned towards the man, deciding that if they were going to be in their own world, you might as well have fun in yours. 

“they’re pretty hammered,” he diverted.

“good,” you smirked, “maybe they’ll be drunk enough to leave us alone.”

“i thought you wanted to come spend time with them,”

“i did, but you know me. i like you better.”

you admired the blush on his cheeks, and you knew it was burning hot because the only light inside the place radiated from neon signs. his eyes darted all over, and he kept chugging his soda, and you felt pride flooding your chest. 

“listen, i’m sorry about today,” fox apologized, tucking a lock behind your ear. “i hope you’re not mad.”

“not anymore,” you winked, and you leaned over to press a kiss to his jaw. you barely let your lips touch his skin– you wanted him to wish you’d come closer. 

slowly, calculated-like, you took his glass and stole the last sip, making the effort to dribble a little down your chin. you wiped up the spill with your thumb and licked it off, and fox’s lips parted. you wished it wasn’t so loud, because you could imagine the soft pant that fell from those lips. 

“what is it, baby?”

the man gave you a look, and then he shifted in his seat. your eyes drifted to his lap, where a little bump was rising, and they nearly bugged out of your head. even if it was what you set out for, you'd never get used to how little it took to get him going. you draped your hand over his bicep and squeezed, placing down his empty glass with glittering eyes.

“y-you… what- what are you trying to do?” fox stammered.

with an innocent bat of a lash, you answered, “nothing, foxie!” and when the flames began to paint his face, you giggled, “something wrong?”

“well- you- i- i mean,” fox groaned, rubbing his hands back and forth over his rosy face to try and shake the feeling swirling inside him. “you’re acting all…”

“all what?”

you stared intently as he passed his hands through all that thick, tawny hair on his head, wishing they were yours. something about him was unbelievable when he got this way. he licked his lips and swallowed nothing but air.

“fox, what’s gotten into you?” you chuckled as the man began running his palms back and forth across the wooden bartop. 

as he dug at the counter with his nails, he grumbled, “you– you’re doing this on purpose, aren’t you?”

“m’not doing anything,” you lied as you let your hand fall on his thigh again, this time dangerously close to the bulge with your name written on it. 

you watched him hiss, taking your hand and putting it back in your lap. he raised his own in an attempt to flag down the waiter, but there was no chance he’d get noticed; the bar was packed to the gills with drunken bodies, all swarming around you, all moments away from being privy to his situation if you pulled anything else. fox looked like he was lost– in the bar, in his head, in the pressure pushing against his pants– and you were soaking it in like sunshine.

“you look so good tonight, have i told you that?” you gushed, “well, i did as a joke before, but i mean it. you’re so handsome.”

“come on, love,” fox rolled his eyes as if he couldn’t believe you were doing this here, now, in front of the world.

“what? i’m being serious! i like that shirt on you, it makes you look so strong,” you brushed your fingertips along the neckline, letting your nails drag across the base of his throat. you watched a torrential shudder tumble down his back, a curated avalanche in the making. 

“i- i mean-”

“–and you’ve been so sweet since you got over your mood, which makes me so happy. you know i love when you’re good to me,” you sighed, “and you are. you’re so good to me, foxie.”

suddenly, a strong palm wrapped itself around your wrist and tugged you off the barstool. fox didn’t even bother telling the girls where you were going since you hadn’t heard from them in a while anyway; he only pulled you through the thumping building, weeding through clusters of drunks towards the glowing bathroom sign in the back. butterflies were stuffing you full as he pushed open the women’s bathroom door, which was miraculously a dingy little single with a lock. letting go of his grip on you, he locked the door, muffling the blaring noise coming from outside. 

“hey, wait a minute–”

fox’s face dropped. you yelped as he rushed his hands across you, touching everywhere he could, snaking them beneath your stolen jacket and under your dress. you reveled in the feeling, but once his lips tried to press against your neck, you clicked your tongue in disapproval. 

“not here, fox,”

“nobody’s gonna see us,” the man urged, “i– you– come on, please?”

“if you want anything, you have to take me home.”

“you just fuckin’ teased me all night,” he growled, “please, baby.”

you giggled as he backed your hips up to the one and only sink, trapping you beneath his palms. his hard-on twitched against your stomach, and as you looked up into his tall, swimming eyes, you could see something surrendering inside them. you pressed your hands against his stomach, and he pressed himself against you, sighing softly at the ounce of relief. 

“you’re so bad, wanting me to get you off in a bar bathroom,” you teased.

“yeah, i’m the bad one. don’t act stupid.”

“don’t be mean, or you get nothing.” you sucked on your teeth, giving him maliciously sweet eyes. 

“okay, okay, i’m sorry. just… please.”

fox leaned down to rest his head on your shoulder, letting out a whimper so soft it was nearly undetectable. you had to stop your eyes from rolling back at how needy he was; he’s never been this bad, of all the times you’d brutally strung him out in public. maybe it was because he was experiencing your twisted form of payback, or maybe it was all the stress from work in the morning, but you pushed him to a new limit without ever really touching him. your entire body began to burn as you reached your palm down between his hips and rested your hand where he begged for you, and felt a pair of lips attach themselves to your neck, nipping softly at the skin in gratitude. you massaged him like he was fragile, like anything rougher would break him, and in a way, it was true– his knees were weak already, and as he rolled his hips against your palm, his hands trembled at his hold on the hem of your dress. 

“need me that bad, hm?”

all you got back was a strangled, “mm.”

“m’not gonna get on my knees, the floor is too dirty,” you chuckled, knowing he wanted more than what he was getting. 

fox didn’t speak. his brain was too wired to indulge you, but his body ached to be touched, so he found a nonverbal way to ask for it; he lifted you and shoved you onto the sink, and you scrambled to grab at the ceramic countertop. 

“fox–”

his big hands shoved beneath your dress and dug into the chub of your hips, scratching at your legs like a dog. he craned his neck down to kiss you, and as you got distracted by the sugary cranberry crystals at the corners of his lips, he moved in a hurry to unbutton his jeans. you didn’t know exactly what he was doing until your hand made contact with smooth skin, and you looked down to see his cock just barely bouncing in your buzzing palm, swollen and screaming for contact. 

your lips turned downward in a sympathetic smile as you cooed, “oh, baby.”

you shuffled up the counter a little bit so you had a little more room to arch forward. bringing your palm up to let a little spit dribble out of your mouth, nice and slow, just how he likes, you watched his jaw drop and you spread the stuff around your hand with your tongue. when he was sufficiently driven insane, you wrapped your hand all the way around him and laughed. 

“i can feel that second heartbeat you’ve got,” was all you said before you began pumping. 

fox’s hands flew to your face as you stroked him, his thumb gravitating to your tongue; his eyes were glazed over like never before, and you wished you could take a picture. you watched air fill his tummy over and over, heaving in desperation, and he bucked into your hand as if he’d never been touched before in his life. you moved a little faster, feeling the soft disruption of his veins underneath your fingers, swiping your thumb over his tip and making him shake. and fox was all noise, louder and prettier sounding than any club song baring behind the locked door. strings of your name interlaced with curses and promises and praises of how good you were, and how he loved you, and that he wished he was home so you could do more than this, and you sat there swearing that he would get what he wanted the second you two left. by the time you shut him up with your mouth, he was nearly there; and by the time you pulled him by the hips right against your soft stomach, both hands on him, his cock close enough he could feel your dress bunching up on his head, he was there. he was far fucking past there, cumming all over your pretty black dress, leaving milky stains you’d have to cover with his jacket, stains he would be reminded of later when he ripped that thing off you at home. you were in his ear instantly as he collapsed into your shoulder, holding him up, voice soft so you didn’t make his head buzz any more than it was already. 

“oh, good job, baby, good boy,” you smiled, “how’s that, hm? better?”

“bet… better,” he panted, back to the obsessive kissing all over your neck. 

“there’s so much more where that came from, foxie, i promise.”

“then can we get the fuck outta here?” he whined, pulling away to show you his pretty pink face. 

with one last warm kiss, one where you caught his lip between your teeth just for fun, you nodded. “get me a towel first."

fox passed you a paper towel which you used to wipe your dress with, and he chuckled at how you gently folded it up and dropped it in the trash can, like it was a treasure to you. then, as you hopped down from the counter and he zipped his jeans back up, you took him by the hand and dragged him out of the restroom, back over to the bar where your three coworkers were wasted beyond saving. you leaned into the conversation and said, “gotta bounce! i’ll see you guys next week!” and didn’t stick around to hear the drunken replies. instead, you guided the pretty boy behind you out to the parking lot, where he rushed to get behind the wheel and drive you home. you thanked god he didn’t have a drink in his system because he was in a real hurry. 

as you sat in his passenger seat, watching his jittering hand play with the gear shift, you were almost satisfied. your idea of revenge might be a little twisted, but it worked. you’d accomplished what you set out for, now the owner of an apology and a man aching for you. but after that stunt at the bar, you had a newfound greed, one you wouldn’t shake until he got you home; and maybe you were abusing your power, but how could you let up now? as you placed your hand over his, the engine revved beneath your feet, and you giggled. maybe it was torture, but he liked it– so you played with his fingers, and he groaned, and when you finally reached his apartment building, the two of you couldn’t get upstairs fast enough.

[darkenedreaper]

Pairing: Dana Scully x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Slight angst, light fluff, light smut

Summary: You and Dana have a history and are forced to work with one another, but feelings come flooding back when you see her partner in crime, Mulder

A/N: Been in the drafts for a while and I’m thirsty

Jealousy Does All Sorts (1)

You and Dana had gone through college and university with each other before she joined the FBI. You had wild night outs in university, in the prescience of simply each other and friends. Wild nights for you and Dana consisted of a few different meanings. It could’ve simply been a night out with all your friends drinking, a night out getting drunk with the pure intention to have crazy sex somewhere, a crazy sex night itself, studying and testing each other, or ordering takeaway and watching a movie. Although you were close and intimate with each other neither of you confirmed what you really were. Perhaps that’s why it was so easy for her to go her own way, at least you thought it was easy for her. You knew she wanted to join the FBI, you did yourself but things changed for you within a short time. Rather than continuing on down your career path alongside Scully you decided to join the military on short notice. You said to yourself you’d do it for a few months for the experience but little did you know a few months would turn into a few years. When you both graduated you drifted apart suddenly, your deployment was a few days after the graduation and Dana had her own plans starting the FBI as soon as she could. You never said goodbye to each other but you knew where the other was going. Neither you nor Dana kept in touch with anyone from University, everyone moved on.

A few years down the line you were a Captain for a few squads, you’d seen the enemy die, comrades die, you’d had your fair share of new recruits come and go. You were still young and you wanted to chase the FBI role before you were dedicated to the army for life, so you left. Your team threw a ‘party’ for you and sent you off with a stern salute. Dana had also seen her fair share of things over the years in her job. She’d seen things you couldn’t make up or draw on paper, but she was happy to say the least. She was partnered with Mulder and had been with him since she started, so the two of them were relatively close; him more so open about it than her. She was snapped out of her daydreaming and thinking by Mulder, he was joking about the new intake that was about to arrive. This intake didn’t need any training or a shadow phase of any sort, this intake would’ve been interviewed on skills, qualifications and background. Mulder liked to make fun of them and pick them apart, say that joining the job that way was the easy way in, or calling them a bunch of frauds. Scully didn’t like to take much notice of Mulder picking because she knew how extensive and experienced the background of the individuals had to be. She would question Mulder on it because after all they were the same rank.

You waited in the canteen fiddling with your new badge ‘Agent L/N’, it could grant you access to places and rooms you couldn’t access as a civilian let alone a Captain in the army. You’d be lying to yourself if you said Dana hadn’t been on your mind since your application got accepted. You never forgot what she looked like, you were sure she’d work here but you doubted yourself. There was every chance she could’ve walked past you and you hadn’t recognised her. But no that wouldn’t have happened. The mental and physical training you received from the army, your brain wouldn’t let you forget such a significant face. You looked a little different to what you did in University. You looked a little more stoic, your eyes had seen more than the normal citizen. You had a small but aging battle scar on the top of your eyelid cutting up to your eyebrow. Your hair was different, you were lean, but other than that nothing else had changed, at least you thought.

Your intake hadn’t been given offices just yet. It was still being worked out if anyone was going to be sharing an office or having their own. You wished for your own, you were a little bit more reserved now after being betrayed by who you thought were teammates but really were working for the enemy. But still you tried to keep a positive outlook for life. After examining the canteen and the agents in it, you thought it was chilled and relaxed. Your thought were interrupted when the boss came to speak to your intake, announcing those that got their own offices, and those that would share. You were pleased to see the sight you saw when you left the elevator and walked down a corridor. ‘Y/n L/, Special Agent was written on a piece of paper blu-tacked to the door whilst your plaque was on its way. You scanned around seeing some storage rooms, Skinners office, a break room, a meeting room, some other agents rooms, and a Fox Mulder Special Agent, was 4 doors down from you. You made a mental note of the names that were in your corridor. Unlocking your door with your new key you had a look around in your new office, it was cold looking, neat but cold. There was chalkboards and cork boards, a computer, a chair, another desk and a spare chair that was facing your desk. And there were some spare supplies for you to decorate your office with. There was a metal locker and a projector. Stuff that would come into use. You were happy to see that the clock was working because it read that it was lunchtime. Heading down to the canteen you slung your lanyard that carried your badge and key on it around your neck and shut your door to lock it.

Just as you were turning round a red haired woman flashed passed your eyes at the bottom of the corridor. You didn’t see her face but you couldn’t shake the colour of her hair. She was only short and petite, she was dressed and seemed to move elegantly. It was a flash, a blur even, but she was making her way into Fox Mulders room. You tried to shake it off, tried to shake Scully off of your mind. It was your first day and you didn’t want to piss anyone off. Off to the canteen you went, with a redhead on your mind. You didn’t really eat dinner. It was a little much and after being out the military for 2 or 3 months it was too much compared to what you ate there, so you pushed it around. Thinking about Dana you felt happy, sad, and angry. She left you, she dropped you like it was nothing and never made any effort to contact you. You thought you would’ve received a letter, but nothing. She knew you joined the army and nothing. You felt betrayed but you promised yourself that even if you did work 4 doors down from her you wouldn’t let it affect you work. You were here for change, here for a new start. Just as you stood up with a full plate of food if it wasn’t for your reflexes you would’ve spilt the food all over yourself and the man standing in front of you. “Good reflexes, let me guess, ex-professional circus actor?” He chuckled but your face didn’t change. He held his badge up to you showing you his name ‘Fox Mulder’, you tilted your head and he clocked on that you knew his name. “Ahh I see you know me, have you seen my name in the papers, on awards, at the bottom of case files?” “No”, you stated. He awkwardly nodded his head but explained that he saw a new name on the door that he been empty and had been on the hunt for you. “How’d you know what I look like from my name?” You asked, “I didn’t know whatcha looked like, but I’ve asked a hundred other girls if they’re Agent L/n but it seems like I’ve hit the jackpot. Leave that there and I’ll come up and show you where I am”. “That’s not necessary Agent Mulder I already know”. You were putting your plate back down when he shouted back already walking off, “Just Mulder is fine, come on”.

You rolled your eyes, following a trail of sun seeds Mulder had dropped on the floor. Walking slightly behind him you pulled out a gold lighter and sparked up a cigarette to calm your nerves, remembering this was the same room the red haired woman walked into.

🤭

Part 2 coming soon