#txf-prompt-box

[gingerteaonthetardis]

wanna prompt me? go for it! my ask box is currently open.

what i will write for:

DW: timepetals in all* forms (nuwho and classic); doctorjackrose; rose x any companions who give off even an ounce of gay energy (bill, ace, charley, martha, clara, donna, idgaf i will write it); charleightrose (iykyk)

DWxTTOI: malcolm tucker x rose tyler (let's face it, none of you know what i'm on about with this one. but i live in hope.)

BTVS: spuffy

TXF: msr

TWILIGHT: bella x jacob; bella x paul; bella x really any of the wolves because tbh the cullens don't exist to me; bella x jessica

ORIGINAL STUFF: ???? (i will literally just spitball about the high context shit that lives rent free in my head. werewolf polycules, bisexuals in the underworld, regency dramas, girls who accidentally made god fall in love with them... like, it will truly just be Whatever I'm Thinking About Today. no idea why you'd want that, but it's an option.)

*with one exception—i do not currently take tentoorose prompts, as i've done a lot of them in the past and am honestly just burnt out. sorry, guys.

do i accept nsfw prompts? yes! if you want your fill to be nsfw, please be sure to include that in the ask! (if you specifically ask for something that is a squick or trigger for me, i might have to pass and i'll let you know, no hard feelings.)

do i write quickly? no! please be patient, i do this in my free time.

how long will the prompt fill be? depends on a variety of factors! how i'm doing mentally/physically, how much time i have, what i want the fic structure to be, how inspiring the prompt is... safe answer is more than 1k words, but less than 5k. (unless i go buck wild for some reason. it's happened before.)

do i only write shippy stuff? no! i accept prompts for platonic dynamics, though usually not for characters i write as a couple. (for example: platonic doctorrose would be... challenging for me and i'd prefer to write something else, but platonic rose and mickey? other friendships, canon or fanon? i can do!)

"i have a really specific prompt in mind, not something from the prompt lists you've shared. will you accept it?" if it's about the characters we both know and love, probably, yeah! send it and see!

"i have absolutely nothing in mind, but still want to prompt you...?" that's totally fine! here are some prompts for your perusal:

three words + a character/pairing

august prompts

october one word writing challenge

doctor x rose christmas prompts

a hundred assorted prompts

physical affection prompts

two characters + a prompt

blossoming romance prompts

"accidentally turned on" otp prompts

"i want to ask for a pairing/character you didn't include, though." for now, please don't (unless you are a treasured mutual and we've discussed this beforehand). there are plenty of wonderful writers in the world who might be better able to give you what you want!

finally, to read past prompts or other fics, check out my AO3! (there's no spuffy there, alas. but i'm trying to fix that...)

[greekowl87]

Ficlet: Chinese Fortune Cookies

Prompt was inspired by the @txf-prompt-box . Mulder and Scully open up Chinese fortune cookies. Quick hour drabble to distract me from writing papers. Tagging @today-in-fic

They did not know what they were. The summer led them to Scully almost losing her life to an alien virus at the end of the world, Mulder awkwardly admitted her loved her after being rescued from the Bermuda triangle and her uncertain dismal, they lost their work, and sat in the bullpen tracking background checks or traveling to the Midwest to look in on people who bought fertilizer on the internet. And then there was the awkward and infuriating shadowy presence of Diana that loomed over their relationship. It sucked and Scully hated it.

In a rare moment of unspoken truce, they sat on his motel bed after an afternoon in stifling Okaloma heat on a cow farm, relatively quiet and eating terrible Chinese takeout while a baseball game droned on in the background. With practiced skill, Scully dug around her beef and broccoli in thought with her chopsticks. Mulder, half lounging on the bed, poked at his General Tso's chicken with a fork.

"You okay, Scully?"

"Aside from the fact there is more beef than broccoli in here, I am fine," she huffed.

Mulder shifted as the unspoken angry and tension continued to radiate off her. "I was thinking, if we are home next week, we could go up to Camden Yards, see the Orioles or maybe go to the Air and Space Museum. I hear they have a new exhibit."

"Since when do you care what we do outside of work," she snapped, sounding harsher than she wanted too. Scully winced. "I'm sorry, Mulder. I've just been under a lot of stress lately."

"I'm sure I'm not helping that." More silence. Scully finally found a piece of broccoli and turned her attention back to the television. "Why don't we talk any more, Scully?"

"We're talking right now, Mulder." She was not looking at him, as if on purpose. "We talk all the time."

He was about to open his mouth to say something else but closed it promptly. Scully shifted uneasily.

"Now really isn't the time to start this conversation."

"Why not? Did what happen in the hallway mean nothing?" he challenged, his passion and emotions getting the best of him. "Scully, look at me."

"I'm not having this conversation with you, Mulder." She bowed her head and closed her eyes. "I need...I need to go."

He reached out, resting his hand on her knee, and she stilled. "Please."

"You don't need me, Mulder. You never have."

"Then why are you still here?"

"Have you thought that maybe I need you?" she mumbled so quietly he did not catch it. She let out a sigh. "I don't know where my place in life is right now. You have Diana now."

"That means nothing, Scully."

"Doesn't it though? You dismissed me like that I was nothing! And not just once. Over and over again, Mulder." She should be yelling, screaming, but her voice was low and quiet. "I mean nothing to you or the work."

His heart stilled in his chest. "No. No." He sat up and reached into the paper bag and reached blindly for the fortune cookies. "We'll leave it to fate. Open the cookie. If it tells you in some way to get as far away from as you can, then do it." She looked pointedly at him, annoyance written all over her face. "I'll do one to. Here, see?" He held up the plastic-wrapped cookie for inspection. "If mine says the same thing...then...I'll let it go." And you too, his heart clenched.

"Mulder, this is stupid."

"Scully, please. Just this one time. I'll go first."

"Fine," she sighed.

Mulder crushed the cookie in the wrapper and took out the small piece a paper. He frowned and held it up. "It says, 'That wasn't chicken.'"

"You're lying." She took the piece a paper and snorted. "Well, now you can question the legitimacy of General Tso's chicken." He sighed, fear evident all over his face. "This is stupid, Mulder."

"Just open it, Scully."

Hefting another annoyed sighed, Scully delicately crushed the cookie in her hand and focused on the tiny message. We mold one another’s dreams. We hold one another’s fragile hopes in our hands. We touch each other’s hearts, she read silently in surprise. Scully did not believe in silly things like that, but she had faith and she did believe in miracles. "Well, mine is not as silly as yours." He nodded encouragingly. Drawing a deep breath, she read aloud. "We mold one another’s dreams. We hold one another’s fragile hopes in our hands. We touch each other’s hearts."

He titled his head as she set the cookie aside. "Wouldn't you consider that a sign?"

"A cookie? A cookie is going to dictate my future," she scoffed, the message burning her in a way she couldn't imagine, dousing gasoline on the love for him. She closed her eyes, tears threatening. "It's too late."

"It's not too late," he soothed, brushing a stray tear away with his thumb. He cupped her cheek. "It's not too late for us, Scully. If you don't believe in a stupid cookie. Believe this." She was caught off guard by the kiss. It happened to fast and slow all at once but it burned and he had marked her as hers and she somehow just knew. She knew what he had said in the hospital was true. He pulled back and rested his head against hers. "Can you believe?"

She nodded, returning the kiss hesitantly. She gave a small smile. "Better than a fortune cookie."

[frangipanidownunder]

Walking the Tightrope

Scully and Ethan are together. But for how long? Post Deep Throat/pre Squeeze. Tagging @today-in-fic and @txf-prompt-box for the latest challenge. Need to catch up? Read Part One  Part Two

Part Three

He kissed her again, his lips pushing hers open, their teeth clashed and she welcomed his tongue grazing over each one, so that she could feel the drag of his tender flesh. His nose pushed into her cheek and it set her nerves aflame. She became hyper sensitive to everything, the light from the kitchen window, the distant barking of a dog, the smell of the cooling tea beside them, the yeasty aroma of the bagels, the taste of Mulder’s lips, salty and sweet, the feel of his chest against her robe and somewhere in her mind she thanked the stars that she’d chosen the thin, silky one.

It felt like an out of body experience. She almost broke away to laugh at the thought. Mulder would love the idea that him kissing her could induce such a reaction. He probably had an X File somewhere in that crazy filing system. But it felt so good, so right that she put her hand around the back of his neck and pulled him closer. Her thumb rubbed under the curls there. The small of her back pressed into the sink and she rose on tiptoe to counterbalance their upper body movements. Mulder dropped his hands from her face to her waist and then slid one up the front of her robe, rubbing her breast until he got the desired reaction. She sighed into his mouth and he swallowed it, closing off the kiss and pulling back.

Her chest rose and fell, her hair was stuck to the side of her face, near her mouth, an invisible imprint of his on her skin. She took her bottom lip between her teeth and looked at her feet. He reached out and pulled the hair away and tucked it back. Then he turned round and pulled a bagel from the bag he’d left on the table. He bit into it, crumbs falling over his reddened lips. He held it up to her mouth and she took a bite from the other side. As she chewed, he smiled.

“Do you want more, Scully? Because if so, just say the word.”

She nodded.

“You need to say it, Scully,” he said. “You’re the one who has to face up to Ethan.”

Fuck, why did he have to say it like that? Like she would be making a field report to file later. Case File 1013 How Dana Scully cheated on her boyfriend with her new partner. She turned to the window and studied the dust that had gathered on the slats of the blind. How hard could it be to just do the right thing?

The knock at the door sent a sinking feeling to the pit of her stomach. She flattened her hair, swallowed and turned to Mulder.

“That’s Ethan.”

He pulled a face as she walked past. “I’ll leave.”

“No, don’t.”

She opened the door and Ethan walked in without saying a word. He didn’t see Mulder for a few moments but did an almost comic double-take, making an ugly noise from the back of his throat.

“Who the hell are you?”

Mulder held back. She could see him physically still himself, press his lips together, curl his fists. “My name’s Mulder. I’m Scully’s partner.” He held out his hand. No bagel.

“Scully?” The way Ethan said her name twisted her guts. He made it sound wrong, illicit. “Is that supposed to mean something?”

“It means nothing,” Mulder said. Then added, “not to anyone else, anyhow,” in a low breath. She licked her lips, meeting his furtive glance.

“What are you holding behind your back?” Ethan asked, his lips curling into a snarl.

Her fingernails dug into her palms and she stepped between them. “Coffee, Ethan?”

His face untwisted and he pushed past Mulder, following her back to the kitchen.

Mulder sat at the table. His face was unreadable. He reached into the paper bag. “Bagel, Ethan?” He held out a fresh, whole one.

Scully swore he winked at her and she reached up into the cupboard for another mug. “Mulder, more tea?”

Ethan shook his head at Mulder and he put the bagel back in the bag. His chair scraped over the tiles. “No thanks, but I’ll see you tomorrow, Scully.”

“You will,” she said, pouring hot water into Ethan’s mug. It splashed up and caught her on the back of the hand. She hissed as Mulder shut the door.

 When she came back from lunch with Tom Colton, she couldn’t find Mulder. His desk was unusually uncluttered and there was a pleasant, bready aroma in the air. She walked around and saw the evidence. One bagel. Two bite marks.

              Did she want more? She sat down and smiled.

[baronessblixen]

New Challenges

Here’s my fic for @txf-prompt-box ! Loved the prompt so much, I had to fill it right away: Flukemen, shape-shifters and alien bounty hunters–these things are easy for Fox Mulder. Buying tampons? More of a challenge than he thought. (Plus the bonuses!)

Set in season 1.

I can do this, I can do this, Mulder repeats to himself in a whisper, as a mantra, staring at the female hygiene shelf. He can ignore the pads, thank goodness, because Scully specifically said tampons. That's all she said, though. Go buy some tampons, Mulder. It's his own fault, of course. That's another thing Scully said. If you make her go to the forest on a weekend, and can't stick to your promise that it'll be a nice trip, she'll send you on a tampon run once you've both scarcely escaped death. He'll have to remember that for the future.

The explosions of color distract him; would Scully prefer a product in pink or purple? He checks if they have anything in burgundy. That's a color she likes, he thinks. And it suits her. So does black. But it's either pink or purple, which makes him think it doesn't matter. That's not how one chooses tampons. He touches one of the boxes nervously. Regular, it says. Is Scully a regular? How would he know. Another box says light. Well, she is tiny, he figures, so light makes sense. Maybe. His eyes continue to scan the selection: super, super plus and he is just lost. They don't have that one, though. There's not a size chart either. This, he thinks with a frustrated sigh, should not be this hard. Despite common belief in the bureau, Mulder has been with one or two women in the past. They rarely stick around long enough to talk about female hygiene or monthly cramps, though. He's only lived with a woman once and Diana, not unlike his mother he realizes suddenly, with a jolt, didn't exactly care to let him in on her thoughts, or feelings. So yes, he knows how the female body works. In theory, anyway. There has to be a way to figure this out.

"Fox, is that you?" Oh no. He doesn't need to turn around to know who it is. In his defense, when he picked her up, they weren't talking much. He wasn't sober either. Mulder didn't really hear her voice until the morning, when it was too late, and his ears already ringing.

"Marie." He twirls around dramatically, showing her a toothy, exuberant smile that's faker than her nails. He glances at them briefly, shudders when he remembers the scratches he had on his back for weeks. Isn't the definition of a one-night-stand that you spend one night with them and then you never see them again? Of course, Mulder has to be the exception to the rule. As always.

"What are you doing here? It's so good to see you!" Her voice is not just squeaky, no, it's bubbly, it's loud and it's turning people's heads. Mulder should be used to this; look, there is spooky Mulder! Right now, though, he wishes he could disappear in between these boxes of tampons.

"Uhm, shopping." He answers lamely, making a grand gesture with his hand.

"Seems like you're in the wrong aisle." She snickers, seemingly coming closer and closer. It's been well over a year since his ill-fated decision to take her home with him. It was shortly after Diana, right before Scully, and Marie had just been there. He should thank her, maybe, for curing him of his thirst for meaningless nights of passion. Though he's beginning to think his fierce, red-headed power ball of a partner has something to do with his current blindness when it comes to other women.

"Actually, no. My…" Marie's hand lands on his chest. Her long nails scratch against the fabric of his shirt. He is praying silently that she'll stay away from his nipples at least. But today is not his lucky day. Mulder lets out a yelp and Marie interprets that noise as approval.

"My uhm, you know…" Damn it, he thinks. What is Scully? His partner, that's for sure. He thinks they might be friends. She is the only person he trusts. The only person he wants to touch his nipples. Where did that thought come from? He wonders. Oh right. Marie. He takes a step back and she follows him like a moth follows the light.  

"Marie, uhm, I can't do this." She hears his no, lifts her head and pouts at him. "I'm here to buy tampons." He said it. He said the word! Marie, however, stares at him unfazed. "They're not for me." Mulder clarifies.

"We had fun that one time, didn't we?" He bites his lip just in time and swallows his decisive no. Instead, he nods uncertainly. "We could have more fun, Fox."

"Uhm, no, really. I'm here to buy, you know, tampons. For my, my," it should not be this hard; for my Scully, he thinks, but that would mean nothing to Marie, "for my partner. I'm buying tampons for my partner." Marie lifts one perfectly plucked eyebrow at him. That reminds him so much of Scully that he almost smiles.

"Your partner." She draws out the words carefully as if it were a new concept for her.

"My partner, yes. We uhm, work together," hope sparkles in her eyes, "and live together." It's a lie, of course, but Marie doesn't know it. To his surprise, the thought of living with Scully, of going shopping for her, even if it includes buying tampons, fills him with a sense of pride, of serenity.

"Oh," Marie grabs a box of tampons without even looking at it, as if it were nothing at all, "I get it, Fox. That's too bad. Really too bad. We could have had so much fun, you and I." She runs her hand across his chest one more time before she finally walks off. He is certain that he hears a 'lucky bitch' before Marie leaves the aisle, and hopefully his life, for good.

Mulder returns to his other dilemma. The tampons. There is no way to decide which box to buy. So he buys them all; one light, one regular and one super. For all he knows, Scully is all three of these things. Maybe, if he asks nicely, she'll explain it to him. In her stoic, I'm a medical doctor, Mulder voice. He loves that. Just in case he need to bribe her, he grabs two bars of expensive, Swiss chocolate before he finally makes it over to the check-out counter.

Marie is over there at one of the other counters, but she no longer has eyes for him; there's a new man in Marie town. Good for her, Mulder thinks, proudly carrying the tampons and the chocolate, because there is a definitely a new woman in his life.

[vgcam]

Fanfic: October Thirteenth

This is a response to @txf-prompt-box 10/13 challenge. Prompt: Mulder’s Birthday and must be 1,013 words (Mine is, not counting the title and that’s based on my word processor… Not easy at all.). Story time frame: mid season one. It’s mostly sweet in flavor. Also tagging @today-in-fic and @fictober

“So, when’s you’re birthday?” Agent Scully asked all of a sudden.

Fox Mulder had been busy packing the few items for their stakeout as they were about to leave the 7 Eleven. He was completely caught off guard by her question. “It’s funny that you’re asking this today of all days. Today’s is actually my birthday. I’m guessing somebody tipped you off?” he turned around and glanced at her, trying to see if his hunch was true. He was very good at reading a person’s body language, and to his surprise, it seemed her query wasn’t based on previous information. It was just pure coincidence.

“No. Nobody tipped me off. If they would have, I would have insisted somebody else take this duty,” she told him. “I don’t get it. Why would you want to do this today? Don’t you want to go out and get drunk with your buddies?”

He let out a sad snort. “This is a lot more fun, don’t you think?”

She gazed at him, her face a mixture of pity and compassion. “Mulder?”

Yey, me. I’m a heart breaking sob story, he cheered miserably in his mind.

“Scully, we’ve been working together for how long now?”

She looked thoughtful. “About six months give or take.”

“Have you ever known me to have a life?”

“Mulder, I assumed you had something. I didn’t want to pry.”

He wasn’t sure he could even respond to her assumption. It was too depressing a thought as it were.

“I’m sorry,” she told him as they got out of the convenience store.

He smiled glumly. “What for? It’s not like my predicament is any fault of yours.”

She didn’t respond and he felt somewhat bad for making her feel uncomfortable by his smart-ass retort. Sometimes he wasn’t able to get over his bitterness. It wasn’t really fair on Scully who had turned out to be the one person who actually did care about him. Ironically she cared for him far more than his parents did. Sometimes he didn’t know why Scully hovered over him so much. He was far than an easy person to be with. He constantly made snide comments at her. He enjoyed showing off his smarts and his experience. Even though she proved her worthy to him, he still picked on her re her assignment as a spy, put there to debunk his work on the X-Files. And yet, she clung to him and this job, despite the fact that he was hard on her and the fact that she was also receiving the same treatment he was from the rest of their colleagues.

They got into their rental and proceeded to their target in somber silence, his brooding mood oozing on to her. This was going to be a sad affair of a stakeout, he noted to himself, and it was all thanks to him and his bleak attitude. He sighed, resigning himself to a long night of sullenness. He figured he deserved this. At least he excelled at self-flagellation, but he wasn’t quite sure this was something to be proud about.

They arrived at their destination, and for a while they sat in silence, each of them staring out of the car window on their side while taking a great effort to keep their gazes apart, until he couldn’t take it anymore.

“Scully?”

“What?” she asked, her gaze still stalking the moonlit street outside.

“The last time I celebrated my birthday was before Samantha was abducted.”

Scully turned her head and their gazes met.

“I don’t know if it was deliberate or not, but I think that my parents just weren’t able to continue with this tradition after Sam was gone. It was a mixture of mourning and guilt. Their mourning. My guilt. It was like an unwritten pact. Nobody said it, but neither of us were able to go back to anything that we’d done before,” he revealed. “My birthday was just another day on the calendar. I’d slowly dissolved my connections with my school friends from before, and this just made the dissolution of my birthday festivities a lot easier.” He told her, a weary smile flitted across his lips.

Scully’s eyes glistened in the moonlight. She didn’t speak, but he could tell she was working very hard on holding back the tears that were already welling at the corners of her eyes. Yes. It was a sob story, but he appreciated her just listening and not saying a word. It was enough that she listened.

They continued sitting there in silence for a while. At some point he felt her hand gently touching his, than gradually her light touch turned into a squeeze. He hadn’t expected this, but he found her touch comforting. He didn’t feel that she was feeling sorry for him. Instead he realized she was just there to offer him her shoulder. She was a friend. A buddy. He was with his buddy on his birthday. It was strange, yet just the way he needed it.

“I’m hungry,” she announced when another stakeout hour had passed. “What about you?”

“I could do with some grub, I guess.”

“Egg-salad sandwich?” she asked.

“Yeah. That sounds fine.”

Scully rummaged through the paper bag that lay between her legs on the floorboard, while he kept his eyes open for anything out of the ordinary outside.

“There you go,” she told him. “One non-home-made-egg-salad sandwich.”

He turned around, about to grab his late night snack and was surprised at what he saw before him.

A tiny flashlight was stuck inside the 7-Eleven sandwich, as if it were a makeshift candle and it cast a strange light on Scully’s smiling face.

He stared at her, confused.

Her smile widened. “Thanks for letting me spend your birthday with you, Mulder.”

He didn’t know what to say. All he knew was that this was the first birthday in a long time where he felt he had a family to be with. He felt the corners of his lips curl up in response.

Scully’s expression mirrored his. “Happy Birthday, Mulder.”

[scullysexual]

Prompt: you've made it your mission to always kiss me good morning, good night, goodbye and hello, and whenever you miss to do just that, even though i tell you you're being ridiculous, you feel bad about it, and always have to make up for it

Febwhump 2022: 28 Days of Fic.

febwhump 22 | day 9 | ask box prompts | detour | wc; 215 | ao3 | @today-in-fic |

Today's prompt: #1: Ask box prompts.

Today's episode: #100: 05x04 Detour.

Infinite Time.

You weren’t sure where you stood anymore. She was dying. Suddenly time was running out and words were quickly exchanged. Yet, just as suddenly she was cured; healthy and whole once more. Time became infinite again and the words were left to hang in the air, memories of past actions becoming awkward and unsure.

The mothmen had been a distraction for you, a chance to not think or linger on the ‘what next’? question. Then she had brought in the cheese and the wine, made a joke about Bureau policy. You were spooked, scared to find out what it meant if it even meant anything at all.

Now you knew and there was nothing left to be scared of, no reason to get spooked anymore. You were together, willing to make this work and best of all- you had infinite time now, no death-ending deadline.

“Scully!” you call just before she leaves the office.

As she turns your lips connect with hers briefly, a start.

“What was that for?” she asks when you pull away.

You shrug. “I missed the last few times and wanted to make up for it.”

She looks at you, understanding what it was you were saying: We’re gonna make this work.

“Okay,” she answers with a smile and a promise.

- - -

Ask box always open to receiving prompts. Find reblogged prompt lists in the tags under: prompts to send me.

[minuete-blog]

Sunday Little League

My very first tumblr post, and I liked the 1013 challenge fanfictions that keep popping up in AO3 from @txf-prompt-box.  This is my take on Mulder’s brithday. I’m thinking it’s drabble/slight angst/friendship.  Not including the title, MS Word says I reached 1,013 words.  It was difficult because my story ended at 700, so I suppose “fluff” should be added to the tags as well.

It was strange to hear from Scully telling him to meet up at Simpson Field on a late Sunday morning, but her voice made it sound urgent, and Mulder quickly got ready and was on his way.  The field was only a couple blocks away from his apartment complex as he stepped out onto the sidewalk in his worn-out running shoes and headed north. The whole DC area was experiencing an Indian-like summer where the temperature was already at a nice 77-degree weather, the high an anticipated 85 degrees. As Mulder approached the field, he could see a little league game already in progress and a small crowd by the bleachers. He found Scully standing by the fence between home and first base. It always surprises him to see how young she looked in casual clothing sporting a gray top and jeans with a crossbody purse, her hair in a messy pony tail wearing minimal make-up. 

“Hey, Scully!” Mulder greeted when he approached her, “I thought you’d be spending time at your mom’s place, your standard Sunday get-together?” 

“I cancelled with her last night. I just need to decompress and process what we experienced in Home,” Scully answered slightly shaking her head in disbelief, “I’m still disturbed by the case.” She looked back out to the diamond again, as the kids started the 5th inning, "I just wanted to be reminded of the simpler times again, like you mentioned." 

Mulder simply nodded. The Peacock family's years' worth of inbreeding coupled by the gruesome deaths of the town sheriff, the sheriff’s wife, and the deputy spread like wild flower in that small town.  Its good Americana ignorant innocence gone in a blink of an eye.  They returned home early yesterday, not speaking much of the case, agreeing to discuss and finish the report on Monday to submit to Skinner. Scully led the way up to a couple of empty seats on the stands sitting a little ways away from the crowd who gave occasional cheers and encouragement to the young players.  The two sat down at the same time, their knees grazing each other as they watched the little league game for a few minutes. He stole a glance or two at Scully every so often as she took in the scene. 

“This is why we do what we do, Mulder. To keep the monsters and darkness away for all this,” she gestured with her hand as she said “all this”, “We let people live their lives.  And they do, despite all the darkness and monsters that are within us, are among us every day." 

"But what about the aliens, Scully? Little gray beings from Reticula?" Mulder quipped.  She rolled her eyes but there was amused expression in them as well. 

"Let’s just root for the kids in the gray uniforms for now, Mulder." 

"But both teams are wearing gray." 

"My point exactly." 

The little league game started to get good at the bottom of the 6th inning, Purdy leading Woodbridge at 3-2, but Woodridge had the chance to tie, and quite possibly lead, with players on 1st and 2nd base with 1 out.  Mulder intently watched, rooting for the underdog Woodridge in this game; they had been trailing ever since he met up with Scully.  Mulder joined in with the crowd when a Woodbridge batter connected with a wicked ground ball, but the Purdy shortstop made a fantastic catch and quickly flicked the ball to the 2nd baseman who then threw to 1st baseman ending the inning with a double-play. 

"Oh, holy shit! Did you see that?! That Purdy #35 kid's gonna go places with those skills!" He caught Scully starting at him smiling, "What?” he asked with a lopsided grin. 

“Nothing. It’s just— it’s nice to see you acting like a normal guy on a beautiful Sunday. Oh! And ‘Happy Birthday’ by the way,” Scully answered grinning. Mulder inwardly grimaced.  He had completely forgotten about today being his birthday after the case. One would think he wouldn’t have, given the fact that he and Scully spoke on the topic of settling down and babies just the other day. Her comment forced him to view her as a fertile female, one who wanted to be a mother someday. A beautiful, prepossessing woman who had no idea that she turned heads both male and female wherever she went in her FBI power suits.  If he had to be honest with himself, there were times when he did want to see her not as his partner. Uber-Scullies. He’d laced that comment for Scully to view him as a man with a healthy, sexual appetite. It was only fair. Tit for tat.  Damn her! Look my way, Scully, he'd thought. 

“Damn! I was hoping you didn’t remember,” he groaned looking up at the sky feigning displeasure.  Though Mulder would rather not acknowledge his own birthday, he felt grateful that someone in his life did.  

“And... I completely forgot about the ice cream I bought at the concession stand…” Scully replied as she pulled the melting ice cream sandwiches from her purse, “Quick! Eat! We can still salvage them!” She tossed him one which he devoured in a couple minutes, the chocolate and vanilla coating his mouth. He watched as Scully was being dainty, opening hers methodically yet still getting the melted ice cream over the webbing between her right thumb and index finger.  Before she could react, Mulder grabbed her hand and licked off the offending cream slightly sucking on the webbing, just to taste a small bit of her. 

“Mulder! What the hell?!” she gasped slightly breathless, in shock. But he got the reaction he wanted. Her face was slightly flushed, half-hooded blue eyes darkened from widened pupils, lips slightly parted.  It was a rare gift to see Scully, who would argue that his action elicited normal physiological responses between two healthy, opposite gender individuals, as being Dana.  She was simply aroused.  Gotcha. 

Mulder gave her a knowing smirk and turned back to the game, “Waste not, want not, Scully. Thanks for the birthday gift.”  

[shieldagentscully-blog]

Wait, what?

DELETED SCENE: DEMONS

Mrs. Mulder and Scully.

That time Mulder had epilepsy as a child.

[bucketslutz]

Entry in @txf-prompt-box challenge!

Flukemen, shape-shifters and alien bounty hunters–these things are easy for Fox Mulder.  Buying tampons?  More of a challenge than he thought.

bonus:  the fic is set before Mulder and Scully are romantically involved. double bonus: Mulder runs into a familiar face while making his purchase–someone he’d rather never see again if he could help it.

Mulder took another quick look at his surroundings and shoved his hands in his pockets. He stalked up and down the aisles of the drugstore looking for a key word. He halted suddenly at the aisle he was looking for. He scanned through the shelves having no earthly clue what the difference between them all were. They all served the same purpose, didn’t they? Why did there have to be so many? She didn’t give him specifics, she just told him that she needed some and she felt too sick to get them herself. He grabbed three various boxes, each different brands but the same...size? He shook his head and exited the aisle and almost went towards the checkout before thinking of something that would most definitely help Scully’s discomfort. He makes his way towards the pharmacy and scans the aisles quickly before finding what he was looking for; contemplating getting the menstrual pain or the regular. He opted for both and tossed them into the shopping basket.

Again, he almost headed towards the checkout then thinks of something else he has noticed Scully craving during this time of month. He heads towards the freezer section and looks through the various brands of ice cream and finally finds the Ben and Jerry’s section. He hopes and prays that they have the kind Scully particularly enjoys and smiles once he finds it. He grabs two pints of Fish Food (one for himself also) and turns to head towards the checkout and stops in his tracks once he notices someone, but before he can turn around and leave they have already noticed him.

“Fox,” Bill Jr. greets with a stern tone of voice.

“Bill, I, uh, didn’t know you were in town?” Mulder asks as he fiddles with the handles on his basket. 

“Yeah, the kids haven’t seen their grandmother in a while. We try to bring them out here as much as possible,” Bill says, rather smartly as he glances at the contents of Mulder’s basket and looks at him incredulously.

“Oh, well, that’s good. Does, uh, Scully-er-Dana know you’re in town?” Mulder asks uncomfortably, knowing Bill saw what was in his basket. 

“No, we, uh just arrived today. I was actually on my way to see her, but if she’s...preoccupied I’ll see her tomorrow,” he says rather bitterly.

“Oh, I’m sure she’d love to see you, Bill.”

“Trust me, Fox. I’ve lived with Dana through her worst days, I think it’s best if I give her some space. You should feel lucky, she doesn’t let a lot of people spend time with her when she’s...you know.”

Mulder nods in understanding. “Speaking of which, I should probably get going. She’ll murder me if I don’t get these to her,” he laughs awkwardly.

“C’ya, Fox.”

“Oh, uh, c’ya.” he makes a move to leave but Bill’s voice stops him.

“Fox?”

He turns his head towards Bill.

“Take care of her,” he says simply.

Mulder nods and retreats to the checkout.

Mulder knocks on her door three times and she opens it quickly and drags him inside.

“What the hell took you so long?” she asks with frustration.

“Oh, I ran into somebody. We talked for a little bit.” She snatches the bag out of his hands and fishes out what is needed before retreating into the bathroom. She returns quickly and grabs the pint of ice cream from the bag along with a spoon from her drawer. 

“Mulder, in the four years that I’ve known you, you’ve never been the type of person to catch up with old friends at grocery stores.” She furiously opens her carton and stabs at the smooth surface with her spoon.

“I didn’t really want to, but I’m glad I talked to them.”

“I would’ve gotten my ice cream sooner if you didn’t,” she adds bitterly.

“Yeah, you would’ve.” 

But what would I have gotten? He thinks to himself.

[mothman-is-my-girlfriend]

TXF prompt box writing challenge

Prompt #1 (Sep. 1) (Set during Bad Blood because I love how annoyed poor Scully is in this epsiode, it actually kind of fits with the prompt. (And also, Bad Blood? Come on that's basically a period pun waiting to happen.) When Mulder walks into Scully's motel room, she's sprawled across the bed in a robe - her work clothes tossed uncharacteristically into a pile on the floor; and she cracks one eye open to glare at him with a look that says, "I swear to god if you ask me to do one more autopsy, I will murder you."  Mulder raises his hands defensively. "I'm not here to ask you to so anything else." He explains, flopping down to sit next to her. "'M just bored." Scully stares at him for a moment, as if he had three heads. "Even if you asked me to do anything, I can't right now." Scully says finally, frowning , and gestures at her clothes on the floor, as if that will provide an explanation. Mulder blinks dumbly. (The poor man really is oblivious sometimes, isn't he?) She sighs and mutters something too quiet for him to hear; he just barely catches the word 'blood' in there somewhere, and -- Oh. Mulder jumps up, offering to go buy her supplies while she washes her clothes in the motel's laundromat, and he's out the door before she can even finish protesting.                                         

Once Mulder arrives at the closest convenience store, however, he soon regrets his offer. An entire aisle of "feminine hygiene products" greets him. (Who decided to name them that, anyway? And why are they so expensive?) He wonders what kind of tampons Scully used; these weren't exactly things co-workers discussed, even those who had been through hell for each other. Wait, what were those? Pads? He picks up a package of them, comparing them to the tampons in his other hand - they both said "regular" - What the hell was the difference? What did regular mean? He glances at the "Super" packages. Maybe they meant weight? No, Scully wasn't heavy, the regular was probably okay.... probably. Tucking the tampons and pads under his arm, he meanders farther down the aisle. How was there so much stuff here? Panty liners - what? Mulder picks those up, too. The back of the box describes them as   "thin and extremely absorbent! No one can tell you're wearing them!" Huh. Mulder has never noticed her wearing anything - granted, she never advertised her period - but maybe she wore these? Mulder sighs, giving up, and walks to the register to pay for all of the boxes. When Mulder arrives at Scully's  motel room again, she's watching TV this time, drying her hair with a towel. She must have showered when he was gone - she definitely had enough time, since he must have spent 20 minutes staring at tampons in confusion. The pile of clothing from earlier is also now missing from the corner.  Mulder hands her the bag of pads and tampons nervously, worried he's bought the wrong things. Scully takes out the various boxes; glances at Mulder, and glances back at the boxes before rolling her eyes and laughing. Loudly. Shit. She must think he's stupid now. Mulder braces himself for an annoyed Scully. But instead, she just catches her breath, and leans forward to hug him.

"Oh, Mulder, this will last me months!" She explains, noting his panicky expression, before laughing again. Maybe he didn't embarrass himself after all.

@txf-prompt-box

[laurenclare88]

I always thought it was odd that they had Mulder seizing/sick in Demons when Scully was the one with the tumour. So this is my short rewrite. @baronessblixen @wtfmulder @sunflowerseedsandscience @scully-eats-sushi @txf-fic-chicks @today-in-fic

My own attempt at the one word prompt (my own idea): metastasis

Mulder didn’t go to medical school. He never studied neurology or medical history in any depth, he was healthy, he’d never needed to. So he’d never given any thought to the outrageous yet surprisingly tenacious idea held by many that epilepsy was synonymous with demonic possession.

Until he heard a cry he’d never heard a human make before, coming from their bedroom.

He rushed through the door to see her seizing on the bed, her whole body shaking, as if she was being electrocuted. He climbed up beside her, frightened like he had never been before. Her eyes were rolled up, unfocused. Her lips gurning, saliva tinged with blood where she must have bitten her tongue. She looked like a kid pulling a scary face for Halloween, yet this reality was ghastlier than any made up ghoul. He wanted to beg her to snap out of it, to snap at him like normal, to ‘just come back to me Scully. Come back to me. I’m here, I’ve got you, I need you, come back to me, please. Please, just come back.’

Her face had lost its colour, her breathing was ragged and he touched her cold wrist to feel her thankfully strong pulse. He looked at his watch, having a vague notion that he should time the seizure, even though he had no idea when it started. As he leans over her, thankfully watching her nostrils flare with breath, he becomes aware of wetness and a suspicious stench between them. He looks down, and there’s shit on the comforter. The convulsions have stopped, finally, and he carefully rolls her off of it, holding her gently as he pulls the sheet off with his other hand, balls it up and throws it in the hamper. He walks into the bathroom and picks up the box of wipes her sister-in-law brought when she visited with the baby, and forgot to take back. Fortunately his ever-practical partner hadn’t gotten rid of them. He takes a handful, and walking back to the bed, eases her stained pants down and off, talking to her softly. ‘I’m so sorry Scully. I’ll get you cleaned up as soon as I can. Then you can sleep.’

The tears start falling before she is fully conscious, and they break his heart. ‘Oh Scully,’ he softly thumbs them away. ‘It’s all right, Scully, it’s all right. I’ve got you, Baby, it’s all right.’

‘Baby’ breaks through the thick fog between her and consciousness and brings up a bilious wave of memory and deep seated shame. When she started kindergarten, she only lasted three days before bringing home a stomach flu. It started with a wave of nausea, but even running as fast as her little legs would carry her, she couldn’t outrun the cramping in her intestines or the shit swiftly seeping through her panties.

‘Baby Dana needs a diaper like a baby,’ Bill had crowed, ‘Diaper Dana, Diaper Dana.’ Her mother’s look had lanced him like a laser of course, and he apologised, first reluctantly then tearfully after the virus hit him hours later, but still the shame stuck to her skin like sandpaper, rubbing her sweet soul sore.

When her bleary blue eyes finally blinked open long enough to hold Mulder’s helpless hazel ones though, she saw no judgement, only love overlaid with fear. Seizures came from the brain, he knew, and he heard her past words ringing in his ears like the deafening echoes of a fatal gunshot. Their truth, like the trajectory of a speeding bullet, could not be stopped or denied.

‘If it pushes into my brain, statistically, there is about zero chance of survival.’

[greekowl87]

Fic Masterpost: False Flags Redux

(1) (2) (3) (4) (5) (6) (7) (8) (9) (10) (11) (12) (13) (14) | AO3

@today-in-fic

It began as a prompt from the @txf-prompt-box. Then in September, it morphed into its own beast. A mixture of historic AU and casefic, this is the longest fic thing I have written and finished. This is my baby and I will always love it. Special thanks to @mulders-boyish-enthousiasm and @scully-loves-ruthie for making this possible and the encouragement. A special thanks to @baronessblixen (I loved reading your tags. It made me feel loved and gave me a few laughs).

Summary:  A year later, after catching a killer, Mulder and Scully must catch the escaped murderer again who also claims to have been Scully's husband in a past life during the Civil War.

[frangipanidownunder]

Seeing Red

Written for @txf-prompt-box Prompt for September 1st to September 8th: Flukemen, shape-shifters and alien bounty hunters–these things are easy for Fox Mulder.  Buying tampons?  More of a challenge then he thought. bonus:  the fic is set before Mulder and Scully are romantically involved. double bonus: Mulder runs into a familiar face while making his purchase–someone he’d rather never see again if he could help it. She was a medical doctor, with an admirable degree of clinical detachment. She had a strong poker face. She was not squeamish. She bore pain stoically. She was calm in a crisis and a powerful ally. She’d been dragged into his hellish quest and hadn’t quit yet. But he could sense humiliation coming off her like flames. Her face was flushed, her lips quivered until she rolled them together, her left eye flickered open and shut as she talked to him.

           “I’m sorry, Mulder. I haven’t…”

           “Scully, it’s okay.”

           “I usually get a backache, but there was no sign. Nothing.”

           “You don’t have to explain. Tell me what you need.”

           “I haven’t had a period for months. Not since I was returned. They haven’t filled up the vending machine in the women’s toilets and I haven’t got anything with me.”

Her eyes were fixed on the desk. He wanted her to look at him but she wouldn’t. And he wouldn’t push it. He reached out and rubbed her arm.

           “I’ll get you something then drive you home so you can change.”

           “We’ll be late for the briefing.”

           “Scully,” he said, “if we don’t make it to the ‘annual let’s see how many ways we can humiliate Spooky Mulder by comparing his unit’s solve rate to the others in the Bureau’ I won’t hold it against you.”

 The product range was out of this world. Pads in various lengths, shapes and absorbency ratings, liners, tampons with and without applicators, maternity and night-time products and sanitary underwear. He sighed and wondered whether it would ever be appropriate to ask what brand of tampon Dana Scully preferred. Partners shouldn’t have secrets. But there were secrets and there were secrets. He knew Diana’s choice but shuddered even considering buying Scully that brand. It felt strangely like cheating.

           “Well, if it isn’t Spooky Mulder? Looking for the truth in the feminine hygiene aisle? If you don’t find it soon, you’ll miss the briefing.”

           He swung round to see Tom Colton grinning at him. Greasy hair swept back, a little more jowly, the suit a little better cut. He’d got on in the Bureau without a single grain of integrity. And Mulder saw red at the thought.

           “I’m just trying to work out which brand would absorb enough of your bullshit so that you don’t make a mess of yourself in front of the panel, Colton.”    

           Colton crossed his arms, his grin dropping away. “Buying for Mrs Spooky?”

           Mulder turned away, felt the vein in his temple throb. “Run along, Colton. I saw the box of shiny apples for the teacher in the grocery section.”

           “You know, Mulder, it was pretty hard to know when Dana got her period, because with her it was like she had permanent PMT.”

Mulder pulled a box from the shelf and gritted his teeth.

Colton droned on. “She was always a little superior. Always moaning about how she had to work twice as hard as everyone else to get on because she was a woman, but what did she do? She just fucked the professor and got on that way.”

The cardboard crumpled under his grip and he heaved in a hot breath before turning to face Colton.

“And now she’s either fucking Skinner or fucking you. That’s just how the bitches of the Bureau roll.”

Tampons rolled across the floor and a woman tutted as she pushed her trolley by.

“Ah, so it’s Skinner then. Don’t worry, Spooky. It’ll be your turn soon.”

Colton’s nose crumpled under his fist and he heaved in a hot breath before clutching the prized fist in his other hand. Blood oozed out of Colton’s face and Mulder grabbed a pack of pads from the shelf, ripped it open, pulled one out of its plastic wrap and pressed it up against his nose, adhesive side first.

“I’ve always wanted to wipe the smile off your face, Tom.”

[baronessblixen]

Two Strangers

Written for the @txf-prompt-box challenge.

An American Civil War AU.

bonus:  Mulder is a confederate soldier.

double bonus: the fic is not MSR either Mulder/other or Scully/other.

 The stench of death clings to Fox Mulder like he clings to his weapon. He sits there on a ball of hay in unremarkable barn facing a strange, an enemy. His eyes ever unblinking remain on the woman with the icy blue eyes he met moments ago. Her devilish red hair is mussed up as she if she's tossed between the sheets and good.

"Aren't you scared at all?" He asks her, spits on the dry ground. There's blood everywhere; he tastes it with every word he mumbles, smells it in the damp air with every breath he takes. It doesn't go away. Ever, he fears.

"No." The feisty woman replies not taking her eyes off him. No, she is definitely not scared. She should be, though. Mulder found her here when he needed a place to rest, fast asleep. At first he thought she was dead like all the others. His eyes wander over to the corner where a young boy lays with his eyes closed as if taking a nap. He covered him with some hay, unable to stand the view. Mulder didn't ask her if she killed him, and the others, didn't ask how long she's been here. And she didn't ask him any questions either; one look at his uniform confirmed who he was, revealed where she came from. "You're a confederate soldier." She spat at him, but didn't leave. Now they're here. Two strangers, sworn enemies, staring each other down.

The redhead lifts her arm and Mulder's hand tightens on his gun. She runs her fingers through her unruly, dirty hair trying to straighten it and he relaxes his grip. Mulder watches her, losing himself in memories. Memories of Diana. He blinks a few times, rapidly. Hoping that if he does it often enough he will no longer be here. If he concentrates hard enough he may find himself back home on his parents' plantation. He longs to be back there now on the porch. Running down the stairs where he once chipped his tooth as a young boy. His tongue runs over the small crack now, remembering. In his vision, he sees Diana as she runs towards him, her long, dark hair flying after her, surrounding her slight form. Here, in the cold, hard reality of the barn, the other woman grunts in frustration and he is back, his dream bursting in front of his eyes.

"Are you going to kill me?" Her voice is even, almost challenging. There is none of Diana's bashfulness in her expression, no love for him. He and Diana sometimes sat like this, only closer. She would wear a shy, secretive smile with her face averted. How often did her hair softly fall into her face so that he had to lean forward and gently tuck it behind her ears? Before he left he promised her the world. He promised her his hand in marriage as soon as this war was over and back then he thought it would not take long. Now he stares at this woman, who doesn't look away, doesn't back down. She's his enemy, and he is hers. He'll have to kill her, he thinks, before she kills him.  

"I should." Mulder tells her with a curt nod. Part of him expects her to plead with him, to beg for her life. Instead she cocks her head, licks her lips, and waits for him to make a move. Her feet shuffle slightly and his eyes dart down. It's only now that he takes in her appearance. She is dressed in the style of the wealthy women of the North. He recognizes it easily enough. Her shoes though are old and ragged. How far has she walked in them? And why?

"You do not belong here."

"No. No, I don't."

"You should not have come here by yourself. It is not safe for a woman to-" She huffs and her icy blue eyes shoot daggers at him. She is not at all like Diana, it hits him. Diana with her warm, brown eyes that are full of adoration for him. Diana who has never disobeyed him, or any other man. His longing for her intensifies, turns into a screeching pain inside his chest.

"That's what they teach you down here?" If they were at all acquainted, he might remind her to be respectful. "Do not tell me what is proper and what is not, Mr."

"It's Mulder." He offers.

"I do not care. Are you going to kill me? That is all I need to know. You're a soldier. You kill people. You kill people who believe that black men are people like me and you. Is that proper, Mr. Mulder?" This time it's her who spits. His hand holding the gun twitches.

"You should not be here," he ignores her spiteful words, "why are you even here?" He cannot keep the frustration out of his voice. He doesn't want to kill her. He's killed so many men, some of them merely boys. How can he kill a woman? An innocent bystander even if her eyes, her whole attitude, say otherwise. He half expects her to throw yet another accusation at him when the echo of an explosion reaches their ears. She startles, so does he. For the moment, he accepts bitterly, they're here together. Woman or not. Enemy or not.

"What are you doing here?" He repeats his question, cradling his gun in his arms like he would a baby. Before he joined the Confederate Army, his cousin had given birth to a baby boy. The tiny human had slept in his arms, peacefully suckling the air. He'd smelled like spring, like hope. He tries to conjure up the image now. Home, he thinks. I just want to get home. The baby, he's long forgotten the name, must be around two years old now. Mulder wonders if he'll see him again. Wonders if he'll ever hold another baby. His own, maybe.

"My brother he…" The redhead speaks, stops herself. Mulder's ears prick up.

"Your brother, what?"

"I was looking for him. He… ran away. He's out here somewhere. He wanted… he joined your cause." Her eyes flicker to the ground and he is unsure if he imagines it or not, but he thinks he sees tears fall down onto the dirty ground.

"What's his name? What's yours?"

"Will it make it easier for you to kill me if you know my name?" When she lifts her head his suspicion is confirmed; she blinks back the tears, wipes them away angrily. For the first time he wonders how old she is.

"I don't want to kill you," he pledges, surprising them both, "Just tell me your name. Please."

"Will you let me go? I need to find him. I need to… find him."

"What's your name?" Mulder asks again, ignoring her insistent voice. He thinks of Diana, again, on a hot summer day when she asked him to go down to the river to cool off. He told her no, she blushed, and then giggled. Of course he relented. He always did. He shakes his head; now's not the time to think of Diana, of the past.  

"Scully. Dana Scully." She answers in a small voice. "My brother. His name is Charlie. Charles Scully. He is… he is different. If you're not going to kill me, you need to let me go. I need to find him. I just… I needed to take a break. I didn't mean to- to fall asleep." He stares at her, takes in her whole appearance. She is just a child searching for her brother. And Mulder, swallowing hard, knows what that's like. His thoughts turn to Samantha and his heart breaks again a little bit like it always does, even after all this time. Stubborn like a mule, his little sister. Not unlike this strange woman, he thinks, watching her. His sister followed her own path, didn't listen to him or anyone. Such a headstrong little girl that one morning she saddled her horse all by herself and rode out into the foggy daybreak. They looked for her for two days. When Mulder found her, a half-smile frozen on her face and her hair caked with blood, it was much too late. Taking a deep breath, Mulder smells the blood again, licks his lips, tastes it. Death. So much death. Will it ever stop?

"Go." He says, or thinks, because she doesn't move. "Go." He repeats louder. The redhead, Dana, gets up, waits and stares at him. "I'm not going to shoot you. I never met you," he carefully puts his gun on his thighs, holds up his hands, "I never saw you, Dana Scully." She opens her mouth as if to say something, maybe a thank you, but remains quiet. Then, suddenly, she is gone. He follows her a moment later, watches as she runs away from the barn, from him. He has no idea where she's going and doubts that she does. He knows he'll never see her again and yet, he wishes her all the best. Hopes that she'll see her brother again. Out here in the warm air, he breathes in and out, in and out, still tastes the blood, still smells death. He shoulders his gun, needs to be going, too. With every step the chance meeting between him and this redheaded stranger becomes a memory, fades soon. He needs to concentrate, wants to get home. I'm coming home, Diana, he promises the gentle wind and keeps going.

[vgcam]

Fanfic: There’s a First Time for Everything…

Author’s notes: Fic created for @txf-prompt-box​ challenge. Prompt: An FBI charity event. Story takes place towards the end of season one. I can’t exactly categorize it. It’s very delicately smutty, but I’m a terrible smut-writer, so it’s the closest I’d get to this sort of stuff. It’s mostly broody and slightly funny. With these prompts I seem to have lost contact with my real life friends, and have ignored my work, kids, hubby and home… oy vey!

Also tagging @today-in-fic​ 

Disclaimer: Not mine. Sigh.

There’s a First Time for Everything…

By Vered Gilad Friedman

It was their first official FBI event together and for the life of him, he was unusually nervous. He’d been on the job with Scully for almost a year now but even though they’d been having plenty of off duty phone calls, they’d hardly seen each other off work. Not that he hadn’t thought about it; it was just that she was so closed-up when it came to her private life and somehow in a manner that was very uncharacteristic to him, he felt extremely cautious when it came to handling her.

Yes, they’d both been to one another’s apartments but it was always work-related and it was always shop talk they dealt with. He’d always wanted to go beyond but whenever he’d try to dig in a little further through that unseen façade of hers, she would button up and he’d not pushed further.

Why? Because… it was even hard for him to admit this to himself, but the bottom line was, he cared for her and it was more than just this partnership that had been forced upon them. No, it was far more than that.

She intrigued him from the moment he read about her, but when he actually got to meet her, he became fascinated. Yes, he’d tried all those boyish tricks of his on her, and he got her annoyed at times, but he loved those moments when she set her blazing blue eyes upon him, and glared as if she were willing to bash him with a mallet of sorts. He’d get her pissed on purpose, just so he could see that expression on her face. He liked that she took him seriously to the verge that his words could get her to react so strongly. Later on, as they got to know each other better, she had figured out his dry sense of humor and was able to respond in line with it. This just made him feel even more excited being with her. And he got to be with her every day and it was pure elation. Even when they argued. Maybe even especially when they argued.

And they grew closer. He knew that. Nobody had to force them to work together anymore. She could have left and he could have asked that she be removed but none of that happened. Neither of them wanted that to happen. And it was more than just work. He knew it, even though neither of them said any of that to each other, even though he’d still not invited her over to his place just to have a plain cup of coffee.

And here they were, about to go on a… date? Could a formal FBI charity event even be considered a date?

He got out of his car and walked the well-known path to her house as if it were the very first time he’d ever seen it. His heart was pounding so strongly. Why couldn’t he control himself? This was Scully! He saw her just a few hours ago at the office. Why was he making such a big deal out of this?

Last year he went to this event with one of the lab techs he’d been dating. Well, more like screwing, he had to admit. A tall woman, with long blond hair. Not a natural blond. Screwing a woman tended to unveil such hidden details about her. Not that he’d cared. She was a great fuck and a perfect accessory just for such formal occasions. He’d show up, enjoy a good dinner and then finish it up with a satisfying fuck. He’d not delve about it even one second after coming. He was no stranger to dating and screwing and having a good time with pretty women, yet now, when it came to dating his partner, he felt as if he were about to break some sacred vow.

Besides, was this even considered a date? True, he was the one who came up to her and suggested they’d go to the charity event together, but he wasn’t quite sure if she understood that this was more than just two work partners going to some work function. She didn’t even make a fuss when he offered to pick her up. After all, he’d come by and picked her up several times when they went on assignments. He was usually in charge of getting their rentals, so she never argued, and they both took turns driving, so she didn’t go all feminist on him, so maybe all she read into this was just two partners on yet another assignment.

He realized he would have been a lot more self-assured had he known that his companion for the night was going to end up in bed with him a few hours later, but with Scully he wanted much more than just casual sex. Not that he didn’t think about sex when he was with her but this time sex wasn't his main goal. He wanted it to be the culmination to a far more meaningful interaction. He wanted foreplay, but not only of the sexual kind. He wanted them to just snuggle together and talk over a glass of wine, or a movie, or both. He wanted her to let him in. He wanted to know more about her and he longed to share more about himself, because he knew she'd listen and not in a patronizing fashion like his past relationships; those few relationships where it was more than just the sex. Back then when he was a mere toy boy for strong dominant women. It was a time in his life when he had needed that sort of trait in a woman. He was young and inexperienced and they were there to teach him something about the world and he didn’t mind being controlled by them because in a way he felt so out of control about his own life that he wished somebody would just take over. Both Phoebe and Diana had no problem filling that position.

But that Fox Mulder was now long gone. He remembered how vulnerable he felt when Diana got up and left him. He was like this hurt puppy, left to lick its wounds, but slowly he grew stronger without her. A thick layer of scar tissue formed on top of those wounds and he stopped feeling when he went out with women. He made sure they weren’t as smart as he was and he focused on their bodies and zoned out when they spoke. He had enough charm to lure them in so he could satisfy his needs and none of them realized he was just playing them.

And then Scully came and something snapped. She was beautiful and smart, yet vulnerable and soft, and she cared for him and admired him, but she also didn’t let him have his way and she had her own set of values and beliefs. She was never a bitch towards him, she never abused him and he realized that for the first time he had found his equal.

But for the life of him, he didn’t know how to proceed in this new uncharted territory where he wasn’t in control, nor was he controlled. He was at a loss.

He was finally at her door-step. If it weren’t for time constraints, he would have waited out there forever, but the new Assistant Director, Walter Skinner, was mentally breathing down his neck. The A.D. bothered to stress the point that tardiness could possibly lead to re-assignment. Mulder still didn’t know him all too well and he didn’t want to risk it; especially not when it came to Scully. So now being almost out of time, he heaved a deep breath and pressed her doorbell.

He could hear her calling out from behind the door. “Just a second.” And then indeed, a second later, the door was unlocked and opened.

Despite promising himself he’d behave normally, he was so taken aback by her looks, he wasn’t able to speak. He just stared at her, gawking like a total dork, feeling somewhat out of breath in lieu of the totally out of character attire she was wearing.

Yes, he knew she’d be wearing some sort of evening gown, but never in his life did he imagine this look. Her petite slim body was perfectly encased in a black strapless dress that enhanced every minute detail of her every curve, not to mention her perfect snow-tainted breasts.

It’s not that he didn’t think her beautiful in her plain FBI dress code 'uniform', but most days he forced himself not to think what lay beneath, but at this very moment not much was left to his imagination.

"Mulder?" Scully, stared at him confused.

Still speechless, he kept on gaping at her figure. When he realized his eyes had unintentionally become affixed on the amazing crack between her bosoms, he hurried to transfer his gaze to a different section of her body.

He set his attention on her hair, which had been beautifully pulled up into some form of elaborate construction, which he had no idea was at all possible. He always marveled at her perfect auburn hair, but he'd gotten so accustomed to her helmet hairdo, he didn't even think of the possibility of her wearing it differently. The usual second option was a basic ponytail which she reserved for trips to the wilderness and autopsies. There was only one single occasion when she had it up in a bun. It was during their case with the liver eating creature, Tooms. Suddenly she wore it up a-la Melanie Griffith in working girl. That do made her appear very professional and somewhat uptight and he knew she only wore it like that to impress her snarky former classmate, Tom Colton. She tried to appear serious because she thought nobody would take her seriously now that she worked for the X-Files with Spooky Mulder.

She never wore her hair like that ever again. It was then that she really decided where she wanted to be and with whom her loyalties lay. The return of the helmet do was a symbol of sorts. She removed the shackles that were imposed upon her by her previous training and she didn't care anymore what people thought. Well, at least not like she did before, he added as an afterthought.

And this amazing do she was sporting at that very moment was nothing like that puffy, professional bun of hers. No. This do was a testament to seduction. Part of her hair was pulled up while precisely calculated strands of auburn fell loosely against her perfect glowing neck. Mulder had no doubt Scully had bothered to pull the precise number of strands out of the pulled-up arrangement of hair but he wondered if he was the prime target of her amazing look or was she aiming at the general male population.

"Mulder!"

He blinked, somewhat startled by Scully's peeved tone. He had to say something. He had to, but he was so stunned, he just kept on eyeballing her, unable to hide his astonishment.

"Mulder. It's just a dress. Snap out of it. Seriously!" she blazed.

"I… I'm… you… I'm sorry, Scully. It's just that… I've never seen you in this way before." He managed but he quickly regretted his words as she pursed her lips and glowered at him.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" She shot at him.

Jeez! The woman didn't really know how to take a compliment. "Hmm, well… it's just—"

"Never mind, Mulder," she uttered impatiently. "We're going to be late if we don't get a move on."

And she glided down the front steps slightly brushing him against his shoulder as she went towards their rental. Her superficial touch was enough to exert an involuntary gasp out of him.

Dammit, he had turned into a puddle of boyish adolescence. He expected to sprout zits on his cheeks next as final proof of his total inability to function like a mature, professional adult.

His mind was racing back and forth between 'Jump right in and fuck the hell out of her' and 'Whoa boy, this is Scully you’re talkin’ about. Settle down cowboy'. He was afraid he'd lose control and that that would ruin any chance he'd ever have with her. He knew he wanted it to be totally different with her, but it was as if that dress had managed to erase Agent Dana Scully, colleague, partner, best friend, companion and so forth and instead it brought about only Dana Scully, sex bomb.

He was ashamed of how out of control his physical reaction was, when he knew that what he truly wanted was to treat her with respect and win her affection and love like a true gentleman.

"Mulder! Are you coming?"

Scully stood beside their car, her stance oozing irritability, prompting him into a wobbly dash towards her. He'd lost all his basketball training finesse all of a sudden, barely managing to avoid stumbling right into her as he broke his step at the very last second. He was hoping to get the door for her, but the moment he unlocked the car alarm, Scully hastily opened her own door and slid into her seat.

For a moment he stood there like a child lost amidst a bustling crowd, then he scooted around the car and took his place beside her at the driver's seat.

"If I would have known you'd have reacted this badly to me wearing this dress, I might've worn my bathrobe instead," Scully teased him as they drove through the evening traffic.

Still unable to trust himself, Mulder opted to keep from side-glancing. "Maybe you should have eased me into this," he suggested, surprised that he was actually not only making sensible conversation, but that he was actually able to joke about his awkwardness.

"I'll uncover only one shoulder next time," she laughed.

And just like that the tension that was threatening to implode his belly a mere second earlier suddenly disintegrated into nothing. Dress or no dress, they were their usual selves again, banter and all. He smiled, then slid a quick sideways glance, took in her beauty but now she was his companion again, just that she was even more beautiful than usual.

"You can keep both shoulders out in the open," he told her. “I think my moment of shock is over."

"Pity," she feigned disappointment. "I was kind of getting used to this unknown side of your personality."

"Well, you were privy to a rare event akin to an X-File," he chortled.

"It's definitely worth cataloguing under the bizarre category," she agreed.

--------------------------

Grand Hyatt Hotel, Washington D.C. 21:04 PM

Scully decided to let Mulder help her out of the car this time. Her dress was making it somewhat harder for her to lift herself out of her seat without having to perform some unconventional acrobatics.

Mulder was over his initial shock re her attire and was mostly back to his usual self. Mostly, because she couldn't help noticing how his glance kept straying towards the central section of her chest. Well, when she chose this particular dress she had precisely that in mind.

There were moments during their assignments when she glimpsed something more about Mulder's reaction towards her, but it always seemed like a flicker that he quickly tucked away. She knew he saw her more than just his partner. They were definitely close but that stemmed from the type of job they did day in and day out. He did try to stir their conversations to more personal direction on many occasions, but she kept reverting back to the professional path, despite his constant attempts.

He'd share a sports’ jokes with her and search her face for a reaction. He'd tell her about his family from time to time and he was a major support after her father had died.

But she was having a hard time opening up to him. She was a woman, working in a male territory and to prove herself worthy, she had to show she was strong and unflinching and she couldn't let him in or she'd appear vulnerable, so she kept him out, but he never stopped trying.

So today she chose to leave that comfort zone of hers. She could have worn a far more conservative evening gown. Certainly had her mom and dad seen her like this, she would have had plenty of explaining to do, but her daddy was gone and she wasn't that innocent girl anymore. She wanted to receive more than just a flicker from Mulder this time. She didn't know where this would lead them and how far she was willing to go, but she was willing to move forward and she felt this was the best way to send this message.

The only thing she hadn't accounted for was that Mulder would lose it altogether. He had such a reputation, she was sure he'd take her appearance in stride. Instead, he went all school-boyish on her and at some point she was considering slapping his face so he'd snap out it.

She was glad when he'd eventually recovered, at least to a certain degree.

The door beside her opened and Mulder peered at her through it, making her almost chuckle as he bent all the way down and then snuck another peep at her partially exposed breasts. She offered him her hand and he grabbed it and assisted her onto the sidewalk.

As he gave the car keys to the valet service, she snuck her own peep at his amazingly built body and marveled at the view before her. Yes, he was dressed in a suit and tie most days, but his usual choice of jackets and especially ties were not the greatest. His pants were usually a lot less snug around his buttocks, not to mention his frontal parts, and the loose shirts he usually wore made him look far less masculine than he actually was. And she knew he sported a great set of abs on him, having handled his medical misfits a little too often ever since they'd become partners.

But today it was a black tie event and he'd chosen a much tighter suit and a bow tie instead and not that he wasn't handsome enough as it was, it was just that this particular garb he had on, brought everything into focus, so to speak, and she enjoyed zooming in.

"Scully? You coming?"

She shook her head. "Yes…" she answered, absent-mindedly.

She felt his palm sliding into hers and to her surprise, she shivered. Up until now, most of their physical contact was of a friendly kind; a tiny shove on the small of her back as he ushered her about or a slight touch on her shoulder. It never went beyond that. She was amused at how holding hands like silly schoolkids could make her all giddy and tingly inside.

They climbed the stairs slowly as her narrow dress was preventing her from taking large strides. She’d been watching her footsteps, making sure she wouldn't take any unceremonious dives, so she was completely startled when she heard a familiar army-style voice speak all of a sudden.

"You're late."

Scully gazed up and saw the recognizable shiny cap of the Assistant Director towering above them.

"Sorry sir," Mulder apologized as if he were this tardy student standing before the school principal, "We had shit traffic."

"Save your sorry-ass excuses for somebody else, Mulder," Skinner growled. "Everybody else got here half an hour ago. You're the last to arrive."

Fuck. She was never late for anything before she met Mulder. In fact, her nickname was goody-two-shoes-Scully. She was always the first to arrive and customarily on the decoration committee which meant she was usually preparing for an event hours before. Now she'd fallen in with the wrong crowd, aka, Mulder, and look at her, she'd become little miss tardy and possibly a slut all in one go. Her father would probably be rolling in his grave at that very moment.

"Sorry sir," Mulder apologized, sounding like a very unrepentant schoolboy.

"We'll deal with this tomorrow. Now step on it." Skinner ordered, turned around and basically marched into the grand Hyatt as if expecting Mulder and Scully to fall in line right behind him.

"Somebody's going to get detention tomorrow," Mulder whispered under his breath.

Scully was too uptight at that very moment to find Mulder's antics funny and she sent him a peeved glare to which he responded with a shrug.

Unfortunately, there was no way she could hurry her step while ensconced within the restrictive evening gown, so she proceeded as best she could while Mulder kept to her side. By the time they reached the elevator, Skinner was already long gone.

"Relax, Scully. We’re already late. It's not like we can do much about it."

She wasn't able to see these things the way he did. There was no point in him trying to calm her down. She was still unaccustomed to being scolded, even after all these months with Mulder. She wondered if this would ever change.

The sign by the elevator listed the FBI event two floors down and if she were wearing one of her power suits and comfortable shoes, she would have made a dash for the nearest stairwell, but she'd had enough of stairs with this dress for one day, so the both of them waited patiently till the elevator arrived.

Mulder got in and Scully followed suit. She was barely inside when the elevator doors slid shut. To her utter horror, the trail of her beautiful evening gown got caught between the doors. She felt a strong pull on her body as the elevator began its downward journey.

It all happened very quickly after that. She let out a cry of shock just as Mulder realized what had just happened. He didn't think twice. He grabbed hold of her body and made sure she remained grounded to the floor. The beautiful garment's seams exploded under the pressure and gave way. It was better the garment than her limbs, she managed a quick thought.

Mulder held her firmly to the ground as the bottom half of her dress tore off, they both breathed fast as adrenaline washed through their blood stream. She could feel his warm breath against her nape, and to her surprise she also felt a firm presence pressing against her lower parts. It was the most absurd of moments; sheer horror, pure danger, uncontrolled excitement and sexual delight all mixed into one crazy juncture. It was like the epitome of their relationship, she came to realize.

She let out a silly hysterical chuckle.

"It's great that you're enjoying this, Scully," Mulder murmured against her cheek.

She was about to respond in kind, but suddenly she heard the elevator doors whooshing behind her accompanied by a chilly breeze brushing against her now exposed thighs and buttocks.

Then came a deafening sound created by a major group of people gasping all at once.

She knew she shouldn't look behind her, but despite herself she did. The minute her head turned around, she regretted it.

The entire membership of the Federal Bureau of Investigation all stood outside, their jaws ajar, and their eyes the size of continents, and like a cherry on top of a cake, there stood Assistant Director Skinner fronting the entire crowd. But unlike the rest of the gathered law enforcement personal present, Skinner bore the most outraged scowl she'd ever seen.

She was still pressed hard against Mulder's body, her exposed thong-clad butt there for everyone to see, and she was unable to move a muscle. But Mulder stirred slowly, gently pushing her behind him, but never letting go of her. Finally he stared squarely at Assistant Director Skinner and said, sheepishly, "Errr… what's up doc?"

THE END

@today-in-fic @txf-prompt-box @fictober

[scullysexual]

I would love to send you a prompt! 🥺

“ did you really mean it? “

I don’t know what it is but this screams IWTB era MSR ❤️ but of course I would be happy with anything you do

Febwhump 2022: 28 Days of Fic.

febwhump 22 | day 2 | ask box prompts | iwtb | wc; 515 | ao3 | @today-in-fic |

Today's prompt: #1: Ask box prompts: "Did you really mean it?"

Today's episode: #163: I Want To Believe.

This'll Be Good For Us.

She’s packing up her last couple of boxes, you stand in the doorway to watch her, your heart heavy in your chest and your stomach in knots.

The house felt empty already; her side of the closet cleared out, drawers and the side table rid of all her belongings. Soon it’ll be all you and none of her. Six years truly living in each other’s space, you wonder if you’ll be able to survive without her.

The reason for your standing there isn’t to watch her pack, however. You’re here with a question.

Your existence goes unnoticed by her. When you cough to announce your presence you don’t miss the way she tenses, the image bringing more knives to stab at your body.

“Did you really mean it?” you ask. You reference the night she announced she was leaving, when words were hurled without care, insults given and exchanged. You weren’t proud of your actions that night and you hoped she had some guilt and remorse towards it too.

Scully stops her packing. She doesn’t turn to face you, she doesn’t do anything except stand still and stare at the wall.

You’d lay awake with your doubt that night, Scully next to you but miles away. You wanted her to lick your wounds, tell you they were just voices in your head and that you should listen to her and not them. But that night, she had been the voice in his head, she had validated the voice in his head and most of all, she had caused the wounds. The causer couldn’t heal you.

“I said a lot of things that night,” Scully finally answers. “And so did you.” Her voice is calm, emotionless even and she resumes her task.

“But did you mean them?”

“Did you?”

“Of course I didn’t.”

“But you said them anyway.” She stops her task for the second time and does turn around this time.

“Just as I said them. I think they were a long time coming, Mulder. I think we’ve grown too dependent on each other.”

You would disagree. It wasn’t dependency, nobody else in the entire world could understand what the two of you had been through.

“So your solution to just to leave?” you ask. It comes out more moody than you intended to.

“Not forever,” she says. “I just think we need to live our own lives for a little while.”

You didn’t have a life anymore, your life was in the process of leaving. Then you realise, perhaps she’s right about this whole dependency thing. It still wasn’t fair.

“We just need our own space.” She walks towards you, taking hold of your hand. You want to never let go, to hold her in front of you forever. “This will be good for us, I promise.”

Good for you, you think.

“And I’ll check on you but from a phoneline.” She drops your hands and walks back to her box. “It’ll be good for us,” she repeats to you but you can’t help but wonder if she was also repeating it for herself.

- - -

Ask box always open to receiving prompts. Find prompt list under: prompts to send me in the tags.