#dana scully x reader

[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

[dullwaterlily]

🌷 ��� 𝐟𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐟𝐢𝐜 𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐬 🌷

~ 𝘧𝘰𝘹 𝘮𝘶𝘭𝘥𝘦𝘳 ~

~ 𝘥𝘢𝘯𝘢 𝘴𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘭𝘺 ~

[veentriliogy]

i fr fr need request. im dying to write something over here

[thursdaygxrls]

….ummm what if i wrote for scully and mulder???

[buzziightqueer]

trying to find scully reader fics to feed my delusions

[dumb1nd3]

why are there no dana scully x reader fics on here. do i have to do it myself

[httpjupiterbby]

i hate it here so i will go to secret gardens in my mind (fictional women)

[xalphafox]

I WASNT THE ONLY ONE!! Literally my reaction as she just lifted that bitch like she weighed absolutely nothing. At first I was like??? Did this just happen or did I have a weird ass daydream cause goddamn! And she was fast too like the way she sprinted between the rooms as if she was not carrying a whole ass other human being on her shoulder

🕳️🫦🕳️

Someone please have mercy on us and bestow us with a fic of this (and tag me so I can see please)

okay so, i've recently been watching a lot of X-Files, and i'm about halfway though the second series. there was this one episode ("Firewalker") where Dana was handcuffed to this woman who had a fungal infection, which was going to make her trachea explode and kill her. Dana knew this was going to happen and fucking picked her up and threw her over her shoulder and ran carrying her. my gay arse was left sitting there like 👁️👄👁️ oh my god oh my fucking jesus, not be a lesbian but oh my fucking lord 🥵. and just sitting and thinking about how hot that was and how much i wish that was me. so, to round this post off: if you're seeing this and you write reader-insert fanfics, or ones with specific readers, could you possibly pretty please write one with Dana Scully set in canon-time period and canon everything really. no smut please, just angst or fluff or whatever. for me, please 🥺? if you do, please tag me so i know where to look for it.

love ya 😘 xx

[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 :)

[veentriliogy]

Saw your requests as open, I was wondering if you could do Dana x reader on a mission together? The reader could be fem or gender neutral, whatever is more comfortable for you. Basically, the reader has both the body and mind, accompanying the agents on the mission, but they absolutely do not got along with planes. So could you please write Dana caring for and comforting a severely motion sick reader? If not, that's totally all right and I'll understand!

Plane Sick- Dana Scully X Fem Reader

Warnings: Mentions of vomiting and sickness

All Ages Welcomed

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I totally hate planes. I wish Skinner would have just let

me drive to the scene on my own. But then again I

would not want to leave Scully here on the plane on her

own with the others. I gripped the edge of the sink so

hard my knuckles were turning a deathly shade of

white. My stomach heaved and i shuffled over to the

toilet and relieved my stomach. A knock was heard on

the door. "Yes, who's there?" "It's me Dana love, are you

doing alright there, I'm worried because you have been

in there for a while after running off from our hugging

session on the plan.. I'm wondering if i was the cause of

it and if I made you uncomfortable in any way or form.

My sincerest apologies to you." I flushed the toilet and

shakily got up on my feet and washed my hands and

face with water. I opened the door and grabbed Dana's

arm and pulled her into the bathroom before shutting

the door and locking it."Dana.. there is nothing wrong

with our relationship. I'm so sorry if you got that

impression. I'm just a little plane-" I didn't get to finish

my sentence before running over to the toilet and

throwing up my stomach once more. I slide down on

the wall to the floor filling queasy and dizzy. Dana

moved over towards me and sat down on the floor of

the cramped plane bathroom's floor. She ran her

fingers through my hair."I would have never known. Ill

run and get you a ginger ale and we can stay in here

just in case you feel nauseous again. I gave her a weak

smile. I cannot believe im so lucky to have someone like

Dana Scully in my life.

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FWWWWWHHHHHH!!!! Thank you guys so much for reading!! And thank you anonymous for being my first request!

[thursdaygxrls]

so this is probably a little annoying BUT i want to get back into writing on tumblr, so

does anyone have any requests?? i recently updated the list of characters i write for, which can be found here. lmk guys :)

[postmodernbeliever]

stalker - fox mulder x female reader

at the fbi, your job is to watch who you're asked to. but on your own time, you watch fox mulder... and little do you know, he's watching you, too.

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

my ao3 | word count: 3,518

content tags: sneaking around, embarrassment, stalking, longing, fox mulder is watching you, you are watching fox mulder, fox is a freak like you, fox likes weirdos, obsessive behavior, suggestive themes, you and fox just kinda eyefuck and nothing happens but god should it, cross-posted on ao3

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

they all call him spooky mulder. what a nickname, spooky- even in its mainstream use, it has not lost its effect. there was always something off about him, something unsettling, which piqued your interest. you liked it so much that you paid special attention. it was your nature to keep tabs; you watched him come and go from his basement office, all the while pretending to be down in the gutter of the j. edgar hoover building for any other suspicious reason than taking mental notes on him. 

sure, it may sound creepy, but this is your job- this is why the fbi has you on the payroll. you’re what they call “the eyes and ears”, and in a sense, you don’t really have a job. your cover is to work in the filing department, faceless and nameless, and keep things organized as they go off to different sectors. you are the one sending weapons to evidence (or elsewhere) and case files to agents (or not) at the heart of the organization, where you just become the signing-off signature. but that office, where you blend in, is how they use you best. orders directly from the top tell you who to watch and when to come forward with information. but they never assigned you to special agent fox mulder. as was his infamous passion project dubbed the X files, this was your unassigned interest within the bureau- he was your freakish fixation.

you followed his case files as they came to inconclusive endings. you noticed when his hair grew too long. you knew he liked the coffee from the break room by a.d. skinner’s office, but he liked the creamer they kept on the first floor, so he traveled cross-complex to make the cup taste just right. you’d read every report and drowned in his philosophical, metaphysical droning, admiring the prose so overdosed on sleep deprivation and the ramblings of a transcending mind. it was like twisted poetry, how he explained what each case had imparted upon him. the way he viewed sociology, the way he viewed intervention both divine and damned, the manner in which he proposed the forces at play work and how they are ever-changing and insurmountable… god, he really is a genius. everyone may think he’s insane, or that his work is a waste of valuable resources, but fox mulder’s mind was one to be entertained, one to be challenged. to let his power go misrepresented or his purpose go any less than unabated would be a crime (if anyone asked you.)

see, this is why it could be considered weird. you revered him like a deity, unapologetically idolatrous of his brainpower- and from a more internal, girlish yearning, you loved his face. god, that face. you had examined his personal files many times in the safety of your office, tracing invisible lines over the photographs of him; caressing the scrapes and bruises documented from altercations with suspects, drooling over his academy polaroids stashed away from old physical exams. he still looked as young and charming as he did in his old school photos. a young oxford man, beautiful, traumatized, in need of proof. his work demanded his darkest instincts and most disgusting thoughts, and you loved him for it, or at least the idea of what it turned him into. and as far as word travels, fox mulder bars no personality incontinuities. after all the stories of the blood he’s tasted at crime scenes and the horrific pictures of murders and monsters plastered on the walls of his murky office, he was more than just spooky. he was freakish, and uncomfortable, and alluring.

now, fox is no idiot. in fact, to even think your interest was going unnoticed was a major misjudgment of his perceptive abilities; the man is the best analyst in the crime division, for god’s sake. he's never missed a clue. yet somehow, in the midst of your innocent stalking, you’d imagined he never saw you standing in his basement hallway, or mingling in the first-floor break room by the irish cream. naivety never crossed into your work, but it clouded your visions when it came to him. he’d seen you every time, shifty eyes fidgeting with blatant secrecy. when the man who didn’t believe in random events saw you more than once, he began following your lead. 

fox mulder kept copies of your personal files on his desk and sifted through them often, trying to get any information on you to substantiate why you paid so much attention to him. aside from his widespread suspicion, he also had a sense for intent, and he felt you were of no harm. even lurking in the shadows, there was a comfort to your presence. that might be his creepy personality being used to unsettling beings, but he didn’t mind. he liked catching you looking. he liked the way your suit jacket never matched your pants, but always somehow coordinated even in clashing patterns. he liked how your hair curled like french fries at the bottom, wide and loose. he liked how your manicured nails were always dark and sharp, and blatantly against bureau policy. fox knew you were as new to the fbi as he, so not new at all, but a child to seasoned agents; he learned of your ridiculous retention of information, and that you read twice the clocked words per minute of the average american. he knew of your graduation from yale and your speedy completion of the academy, as well as your elevated skill for firearms, which immunized you from a majority of field training. he knows about your secret connection, yet not who it’s with, and that it’s ushered you into a disguised deep-level position. in less legal ways of determining, the agent discovered you were the president of your high school’s history club, as well as the chief editor of the newsletter, and your family had a summer cabin on the oregon coast. you were smart, valuable, integral, even- and your talents were being wasted under cover of the monotonous filing department. he knew more than you realized. but even with his disturbing understanding of you, fox couldn’t figure out why it was him you watched- you had no connection to him, no link to his work or anyone who aimed to sabotage it. of all your secrets, he seemed to be the biggest.

you’d never expected anything to come of your little infatuation, but fox mulder didn’t like to let things linger. so when you just so happened to be venturing into the basement for something in the archived evidence room, he went into pursuit. you swiped your key card in the automatic door, and he followed you inside and made sure to close it nice and loud behind you. the lock clicked, causing you to jump out of your skin, and he laughed.

“not a fan of followers, huh?” the man teased.

“you just locked us in here, sir!” you nearly choked. you’d never seen him up close and personal. his shirt was a wrinkled mess, but it looked so nice rolled up on his fair-skinned arms, and his hair was a lot darker in person than it looked in the pictures. so were his eyes. 

“sir? no, nobody calls me sir.”

“what should i call you, then?” you groaned.

“agent mulder. spooky mulder. basement boy. whatever floats your boat!”

“well, then, agent mulder,” you elected, “you just locked us in here!”

“is that what you’re worried about? don’t worry, i'm sure agent scully will come down soon enough. or maybe not. maybe you’re stuck in here with me.”

you pivoted and began walking down the first aisle of archives, trying to come up with something to grab to avoid blowing your cover. fox kept at your heels, poking his head playfully into your eyeline.

“looking for something… you?” he inquired.

“that’s agent to you.”

“no name? ooo… spooky,” he wiggled his eyebrows, and you suppressed the fluttering in your stomach. you thought in frustration, how dare he make wordplay hot?

“says you.” you negated.

“so you do know me!”

“everyone knows you, agent mulder.”

“oh, sure… but you’ve been watching me, haven’t you?”

you stopped between the alphabetized boxes marked by Hs and Js, biting your tongue. you watched as fox sauntered around to the front of you, leaning nonchalantly against the filing shelf and smirking. his hand raised to wipe his mouth, and you analyzed the rough calluses and ink splotches carving uniqueness into his knuckles. a deep cut rested along his thumbnail down to his wrist. you recognized it as a healed-over wound from an inconclusive case months ago- something he claimed to have involved lizard men.

“i- i’m not sure what you mean.”

“you’ve been following me around, taking note of what i do. i see you every day. sometimes in the break room, sometimes in the bullpen by the car desk, sometimes shooting guns down at the range room on saturdays like i usually am. you’re always… floating around.'' fox mused, running a hand through his thick hair. a few pieces curled agonizingly over the frame of his face, and you felt like dying.

“must be coincidences.”

“you know well as me that there are no such things as coincidences,” fox stated, “there are simply events that occur, and more often than not, they occur causally, or in my case, through spurious correlation, but nobody can ever seem to pinpoint the third invisible factor that links one event to another, except for me.”

“speak english, agent mulder, would you?”

“you’ve been following me, which caused me to notice you, which caused you to pretend you haven’t been, and so forth,” he sighed, “but you know what i’m saying, don’t lie. you’re a yale alumni, graduated summa cum laude with a double major in psychology and international affairs. you’re one of the smartest women in the building. so why are you acting dumb?”

your stomach flipped as he stepped closer to you, leaning down in all his six-foot glory to meet your gaze. swallowing thickly, you shoved your hand in a box labeled CONFISCATED Ka-Kz and fished out the first object you grasped: a bloodied kazoo. wincing in embarrassment, you waved it in his face and grimaced.

“i'm just down here for this.”

“for a murder kazoo.” he deadpanned.

“…yes.”

you turned away and began heading for the door, but a strong palm wrapped around your wrist, halting your stride. fox tugged you back, and you tried to keep your drooling gaze to a minimum at how handsome he looked when he was searching for answers.

“if you tell me what you want from me, i'll let you go.”

“i don't want anything.”

“bullshit,” the agent rolled his eyes, “everyone wants something, agent, even you. you’re a bad liar, you know that? that’s why you’re not under deep cover.”

how little you know, you thought with a smirk. “well, not everyone is made for danger.”

“no. you’re just made for stalking.”

you seized up, “i am not stalking you!”

fox grinned, liking how worked up you were becoming. “then why are you always in the corner of my eye, agent?”

you huffed in desperation, weighing your options. you could,

a) keep lying.

b) tell fox the truth.

c) bang on the locked door and scream until someone saves you from spooky mulder.

none of your options were appealing, but you weren’t getting out of here if you didn’t choose. option A would drag it out, and option C would get him fired, so you only had one path if you wanted to control casualties and your level of embarrassment in one shot.

as he stood patiently waiting, tie so horrendously knotted that it took all your willpower not to tug him down by it, you gave in. 

“well, agent mulder, you… you’re interesting.”

“am i?”

“y-yes. you do amazing work. you catch killers. and you… write beautifully.”

fox chuckled softly, “you like my writing? what, are you the one who files my field reports or something?”

now may not be a good time to admit you tweaked the computer system to always assign you files submitted by agents between L and P in the alphabet just to be the sole individual who received fox’s files, so you withheld the truth a bit. it will come back to bite you in the ass when he looks into the signatures on his official paperwork, but oh, well.

“every so often,” is what you settled on. “you have something to say, and you say it like you’ve been contemplating the proper phrasing forever. it’s always so eloquent and intelligent and… fascinating.” you stopped praising him, feeling shame wash over you like a bad shot of vodka.

“well, aren’t you a regular fan?” fox rested his head against the filing shelf, eyes raising to the ceiling. his neck stretched open far enough that you could watch his adam's apple bob as he spoke. “glad to know my conclusions aren’t just the ramblings of a lunatic.”

“quite the opposite, agent mulder.” you blushed.

fox looked back down to you, and his puppy dog eyes bore holes into your cheeks. “i know a lot about you, you know. i know where you went to high school. i know you also use the irish cream for your cup of joe every day. i know you drive that baby blue car out in the garage, with the stupid “honk if you love labs” bumper sticker. but what i don't know, agent, or rather what i can’t figure out, is why you’re working in the filing department when you should be on an analyst team, or why you’re so insistent on following me around work. so, can you enlighten me with the truth?”

the truth. even when encountering you, his true colors show. you would be frustrated if it wasn’t so attractive how he interrogated you.

with a shaky breath as support, you said, “i want to know you.”

“is that all? you just… want to know me?”

“we don't work together. you’re too off-limits. my orders require me to stick to the mundane and watch from afar. but you, agent mulder, you are never mundane. you sit down here every day and crane over horrific cases, imagining the unimaginable, and all in the stuffy confines of a basement office that people would rather die than visit you in. y-you’re terrifying, you’re… fresh air.”

fox would never admit to it, but his entire body experienced pins and needles at the sound of your voice. in the least creepy way possible, you reminded him of the school librarian from his childhood- thin glasses, a loose blouse, and a voice thick and sweet, just how he liked his coffee.

“well, as the resident spooky one around here, i'd say you’re more freakish than me. you’re quite the stalker.”

“that's my business.”

you put the kazoo back in the box, frustrated you even attempted to jeopardize the secrecy of your nature for being down in the basement. fox’s hazel eyes followed your lethal nails as they replaced the object, and he wondered if they hurt when they grazed skin. a part of him really wanted to find out.

the man huffed, “so that’s it? no plans to kill me, or turn me in to the boss for my beliefs?”

“nope. just… watching from a distance.”

“you could watch up close if you wanted to. i could really benefit from someone so smart as you are, and someone who has such a knack for detail,” he teased. “you seem to have a way with words yourself, agent.”

“well, i appreciate the offer, but my hands are full as it is, agent mulder.”

“call me fox.”

in a flustered blackout, you blurted, “but no one calls you fox!” and the agent’s pupils blew wide.

somehow, deep inside, the idea of you knowing his secrets without ever speaking to him turned him on. you were a watcher, and as a profiler he’d even go so far as to call you a creep- a girl with a case of muldermania following his every move and sniffing the air when he walked past. he saw it in how your hands shook before him, how you craned your neck back in submission, how your eyes darted between his eyes and lips with fervor; how you swallowed nothing every five seconds in what he couldn’t discern between fear and anticipation. you had slightly sick motivations, so driven by the feeling his writing gave you and the idea of what it must be like to be inside his mind. and he liked it. he liked being studied, and understood, and having no say in it being done by a pretty girl like you. the man took another step closer this time, and you didn’t budge. this was one of his personal space invasions he’s so famous for- the kind people complain about when they’re put on the job with him. also the kind you’d dreamt of since you learned of his existence beneath the bureau.

“but you do when you think of me, don’t you?” he crooned, knowing how to play you from one freak to another. “when you think of watching me when you’re alone, and how we might interact. you call me fox in that pretty little head of yours, right? so say it.”

“w-well…”

“come on, don’t leave me hanging.”

you licked your lips as the heat of his breath danced across your face, and you flushed. “a-as much as i'd love to stay and talk, i have my obligations. not everyone is at your whim, fox.”

in a hormonal lapse, fox let out a soft, “mmm,” and flashed his adorable grin for you to fuss over. “that's too bad, then.”

“but,” you interrupted, “if you ever need, um, proofreading… or help, i can- you can, uh, maybe leave me a note? or something?”

“on your desk? in the filing department, right? in that office with the blue walls and the photograph of you and your chocolate lab, the one who inspired your bumper sticker, agent?” fox revealed, showing his intellectual hand.

with a dry mouth, you mustered a meek, “yeah, that’s the one.”

“good. maybe i'll spray it with my cologne, so you can savor the moment.”

“excuse me?” you squeaked.

“come on, agent,” fox winked, “just a joke. unless you’d like that, y’know, i won’t judge.”

and of course you would. he smelled like dust and paper, with a little sugar left from the coffee he drinks, and a little smoke from the candles he lights when they turn the lights off on him overnight in that dark hole of an office.

“you live up to your name, spooky mulder,” you bit your lip.

“so do you,” fox agreed, “what would we do without our eyes and ears?”

“… what did you just say?” you could barely muster a voice.

“you heard me.” 

fox slipped a hand in his suit pant pocket and revealed your business card- not the filing office one, but for your cover. you have no idea how he’d gotten one, because the only place you keep them is in the locked safe beneath your desk. you were in bold, with your full name, position, boss, and reserved extension line. you thought of fox breaking into your office at night- while you were at home having dreams you’d never admit to- and sifting through your belongings, touching all that was yours, cracking open your secrets. you shuddered as he placed the card gently in your hand, his fingers trailing against the veins at the center of your wrist, where he could feel your pulse hammering.

the man slid past you in a split second, heading for the evidence room door and jiggling the handle upwards. when it unlocked, he shot a premeditated glance towards your mortified face and said, “somebody ought to get this fixed. see you around, agent.”

just about shaking, you stood in the aisle, dizzy from the sound of his departure and how every word fell from his lips with such intention. after a moment of weakness in which you let yourself lean against the filing shelf and catch your breath, you straightened out your blazer and made for the door. when you came into the hallway, you saw spooky mulder standing in his doorframe, thumbing through a file with his silver-rimmed glasses sliding down the bridge of his nose. you turned quickly towards the stairs and left him to his devices, those being the file that was full of pictures of you.

all this time admiring from afar made you feel like a fool. now you were stuck with a lingering conversation and the overwhelming urge to visit the archives again, because someone downstairs had his eye on you. he knew you by way of his own eyes and ears, and there are a few things that aren’t in your files he’d like to learn. 

and to think you were the stalker!