Let’s talk about the 2nd Edition (while my hair dries)
ALT
When I started work on a collection of my comics it was really important to narrate my process with new work.
I wanted the book to be universal and very easy for any reader, so these new comics/pages are VERY cute:
ALT
I refer to this chibi version of myself as “Dollface Justin.” I was forced to adopt this simpler style after a fairly severe injury that upturned my life for about three years.
I am a MUCH better cartoonist now.
In the 2nd edition I’d work to make my narration as interesting (if not more so) than the collection itself.
A 2nd edition would showcase (easily) 3x the comics in the 1st edition. It may also ruffle some feathers.
While the 1st edition might be considered “candy coated,” I would make a point of speaking up about how Trans people are treated and how—seriously—we’ve suffered enough!
And besides that, for every comic of mine you’ve seen? There’s about ten more you’ve never seen. I intend to COMB my work and showcase VERY personal art.
It will be me at my most vulnerable and I am happy to do this if it helps someone. And I know it will. I know this.
•••>Warnings: smut, unprotected sex, dirty talk, noona kink (although reader is younger. I promise, it’ll make sense), masturbation (Kook), exhibitionism?, sense of helplessness, Jungkook feels empty and numb, mention/fictitious use of Wicca by Hobi, cursing, instant love, tortured love, oral (f and m receiving), mention of cheating, depression, angst, fluff?
You opened your eyes for the first time in his room. Well, for better words, you simply came to be in his room. You didn’t need to raise your eyelids or blink away unwanted blurriness. Your vision suddenly just… was.
You fixed your permanent stare on his face, watching as he stuck his tongue into his cheek and quirked an eyebrow. At your first experience in the world, you tried to mirror his expression by quirking your own eyebrow, only to discover that you had no other features to manipulate.
I was already preparing myself for the ending coz I don’t think I couldn’t handle the angst but thank goodness, it was a happy one! I really enjoyed this. I can literally feel jungkook’s sadness, makes me want to get inside the story and hold him close .
I hate leaving stories on a bad note haha. As realistic as I want to make my stories, my intention is not to give my readers permanent emotional damage. The temporary damage that can be healed is okay though, because damage can be healed.
•••> Warnings: smut, blood thirst, aggressive yearning, multiple orgasms, fangs and venom, werewolf knot, knotting, cum bloating, cum stuffing, obsessive sex, feral werewolf, insecure werewolf, murder (Greek Mythology), character death, oral (f receiving), tongue fucking by a six-inch tongue, mention of murder/vampire hunting, mention of war, mention of cancer, mention of slavery, uncontrollable lust, angst, perceived mate rejection, addiction to venom, withdrawal from venom, and a lot of other stuff. You know the drill. If you don’t want to read, don’t.If you’re under 18, don’t.
Right before sleep took you, a thought crossed your mind and a weak pulse beat on your clit. It wasn’t strong enough to keep you from going under, but it was concerning nonetheless.
Where is Sir Kim?
“Apollo.” You whispered. “You came.”
The god smiled at you, yet the smile did not seem to wipe the sadness from his eyes, as he materialized from the light of the setting sun. You knew why he was here. You knew why he finally answered your prayer.
His voice was warmth and joy. It was honey and it was the sun on your skin. “Of course, Selene. How could I ignore you now, my moon?”
Ok…whew ok. I dunno if you’re like me and want a little Twilight and a little True Blood. But wow. This series has me gagged. Start from the beginning though.
Allanah?! Where have you been all my life?!
Lol I’m glad you enjoyed it! I do love it. Angsty fantasy is my favorite genre to write, after all. Give me a True Blood or Twilight-ish fic any day and I will eat that shit uppppp
•••>Warnings: smut, unprotected sex, dirty talk, noona kink (although reader is younger. I promise, it’ll make sense), masturbation (Kook), exhibitionism?, sense of helplessness, Jungkook feels empty and numb, mention/fictitious use of Wicca by Hobi, cursing, instant love, tortured love, oral (f and m receiving), mention of cheating, depression, angst, fluff?
You opened your eyes for the first time in his room. Well, for better words, you simply came to be in his room. You didn’t need to raise your eyelids or blink away unwanted blurriness. Your vision suddenly just… was.
You fixed your permanent stare on his face, watching as he stuck his tongue into his cheek and quirked an eyebrow. At your first experience in the world, you tried to mirror his expression by quirking your own eyebrow, only to discover that you had no other features to manipulate.
•••> Warnings: smut, blood thirst, aggressive yearning, multiple orgasms, fangs and venom, werewolf knot, knotting, cum bloating, cum stuffing, obsessive sex, feral werewolf, insecure werewolf, murder (Greek Mythology), character death, oral (f receiving), tongue fucking by a six-inch tongue, mention of murder/vampire hunting, mention of war, mention of cancer, mention of slavery, uncontrollable lust, angst, perceived mate rejection, addiction to venom, withdrawal from venom, and a lot of other stuff. You know the drill. If you don’t want to read, don’t.If you’re under 18, don’t.
Right before sleep took you, a thought crossed your mind and a weak pulse beat on your clit. It wasn’t strong enough to keep you from going under, but it was concerning nonetheless.
Where is Sir Kim?
“Apollo.” You whispered. “You came.”
The god smiled at you, yet the smile did not seem to wipe to sadness from his eyes, as he materialized from the light of the setting sun. You knew why he was here. You knew why he finally answered your prayer.
His voice was warmth and joy. It was honey and it was the sun on your skin. “Of course, Selene. How could I ignore you now, my moon?”
She had laughed out loud the first time she saw it.
It was ridiculous, utterly ridiculous. The whole thing made her want to cry, because she thought of Missy. How Missy would stare at the scene with disbelief in her eyes and with cringe written all over her face.
Her sister would cry abomination. She would claim that they have broken the cat. Broken to the point beyond repair. Broken! she would curse aloud with all the bad names she knew and throw a dirty look at anyone who asked her to calm down.
She could almost hear it. Mom! The fifteen-year-old Missy would scream, Dana and her boyfriend broke the cat! Mom! Do somethin’!
Missy was the mellowest one of all the Scully siblings. It took a lot to get her mad, and this would certainly done it for sure.
Mulder had trained their cat to shake hands.
Sherlock was a tiny calico they had found in a park. Sherlock practically grew up on Mulder’s palm. Sherlock was his cat baby, the one who he had nursed back to health with the help of his children. He fed her milk and kept her warm in the fleece beanie William was wearing as they couldn’t find something soft enough by Mulder’s standard. Mulder was so doting toward the kitten that Scully worried their children would grow jealous of the furry monster.
And he raised his kitten like a dog. With Mulder’s patience and Sherlock’s trust in her daddy, the cat knew to come, sit, andmeow on demand. But it was really something when he taught the cat to shake hands.
“What’s next, Mulder,” Scully asked, “roll over and play dead?”
“Nah,” he grabbed her left arm and held it like a cat, “too morbid. I didn’t save this one from death so she could play dead.”
Scully looked at him tenderly as he petted her hand like it was the head of a cat.
“Maybe something a little more functional. She’s a bit too small to bring me the mail or open the fridge.”
Mulder had never taught their three dogs any tricks. She didn’t know why he had tried with their first cat; she almost wanted to keep an observation journal for she was so fascinated with it. Itbeing Mulder the husband, not Sherlock the cat.
“You know what’s the best thing I like about Sherlock?” He began, “Besides naming her Sherlock, of course.”
Scully turned her arm around so she was cradling his arm instead, and his other arm reached over to roam slowly on her thigh. She smiled, “Enlightened me, Cat Daddy.”
“She has the cutest little feet only second to yours.”
Scully gave him a fake glare.
“You know I love tiny feet. Yours and hers both. I thought your feet were so capable, the way—”
She smacked his arm unexpectedly, “If your sentence ends with ‘reach the break’, Mulder…” She did not finish her warning, knowing it was more effective that way.
“They’re delicate with all their piggys. I love it when you paint them pink. It’s so cute.”
She rolled her eyes for show.
“And it gets you so angry so easily. You got a thing for your feet, Scully, you’ve always had. But I have nothing but fondness over it. My feet look like they belong to an alligator when they’re placed next to yours. Alligator feet.”
She scoffed lightly and her hand reached up to caress his jaw.
“You know the best thing I like about Sherlock?” Scully began like he did just a moment ago, “that you raised her like a dog, and that she… I mean, Mulder, you taught a cat to shake hands! What’s next? I’ve never seen a cat do that.”
“Says the Master,” Mulder muttered, and cleared his throat: “you taught a Fox to love. I’ve never seen myself do that.”
Scully let her small smile grow into a beaming one. After thirty-five years, he could still say just the right thing to make her swoon.
“And I can shake hands, too, Master.” Mulder held out his hand with a goofy yet devoted look on his face, and she moved her lips to cover his grinning ones.
But he doesn’t care. After all, he is named Fox Mulder, and growing up with that name has shielded him from that particular type of harm.
“Is that what you got from your babysitting job, Mulder?” Langly laughs.
Mulder shoots him a dirty look. “Jealousy andenvy, Virgin Boy?” He flaunts with an air of pride, “and it’s not babysittingwhen it’s your kid.”
Mulder pretends he doesn’t see the grins that appear on his friends’ faces. “And if you three play nice, I bet you’ll get one too.”
He’s talking about the bracelet, not the kid. Emily’s recently gotten the Beady Bunch 2000 from a carnival raffle, and she’s been busy making bracelets for all her favorite people. The first one Emily made says Scully and it’s for Mommy. The second bracelet is for Mulder; it also says Scully in neon green lettersand has two stars.
“Emmi, do you need help spelling my name?” Mulder whispers. He doesn’t know Emily already knows how to spell M-U-L-D-E-R; she’s learned it months ago.
“No,” the child answers loudly, her little fingers sorting the beads into a big plastic box with compartments. “I can spell Mulder, Mulder.”
“Then why does my bracelet say Scully?”
“Don’t you like it?” Emily responds mischievously, reminding Mulder of something Sam did so long ago; his little sister in two braids singing in glee: …and fox sittin’ in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G!
“Sure I like it,” he quickly replies, “if I got Scully, how come Mommy didn’t get Mulder?”
“Mommy doesn’t need to get Mulder.”
Mulder contemplates too much and too seriously on the child’s response.
He soon discovers that he loves to have a Scully bracelet; it wouldn’t be the same if he had gotten a Mulder bracelet. It would be silly to wear a Mulder bracelet on his wrist. He feels so proud wearing a Scully bracelet. It’s a seal of approval. It’s his medal of honor. He wears it the moment Emily presented to him, he studies the difference between his bracelet and Scully’s, he even wears it to bed that night, and Scully makes fun of him until he distracts her with his kisses.
He wears it to the market on the following day, wears it to the Gunmen to discuss important issues while eating pizza, and wears it to work when the weekend’s over.
“Are you sure…” Scully begins and he shoots her a glance that meant end of discussion.
Mulder wears his bracelet to two budget meetings, and Scully has to bite the inside of her cheek when Skinner’s eyebrows shoot up as his sight lingers on Mulder’s wrist. She quickly reaches over and tucks the bracelet into his sleeve. After all, it does says Scully on it.
Emily is more than thrilled to see Mulder wearing the bracelet she gave him, but after a little talk with Mommy, she approaches the tall man after dinner.
“Mulder, I’m glad you like my bracelet.” Emily says diplomatically.
“Oh yeah, Baby Banana. I love it.” He smiles at the child, “are you upset that Mommy doesn’t wear her bracelet?”
“No, Mommy’s is for her keys. She’s not supposed to wear hers. When I was making it, Mommy said she used to make friendship bracelets when she was little. So I decided to make one for you. But I think I’ll make you another one so your friends won’t make fun of you.”
“Honey, I don’t care if people make fun of me.” Mulder picks Emily up and puts her on his lap. “People can make fun of a lot of things.”
“Do you cry after?” She asks in her little voice.
“No.” Mulder displays the skill he’s mastered at the age of 8. “I don’t cry about silly things like that.”
“Mulder,” Emily touches his bracelet, “I’ll make you a new one from this one; I’ll make it extra better.”
“Thanks, Foxi.” He drops a kiss on top of the child’s head and off she goes.
The next morning, Mulder gets one that saysMulder and Emily hooks it onto his keys. He misses the Scully one, but he knows it’s probably for the best.
Three days later, he discovers his little girl has finally gotten around to make one for herself. It says MOMMY + MULDER in banana yellow letters.
And Mulder tells himself that he doesn’t cry about silly things like that.
It’s all about her, allabout her. Mulder will accidentally make it about him again, God bless his insecurities, but she loves him despite his insecurities, so, the best way is to never tell him.
She never wants to get married.
When she was in high school, she thought meeting someone, falling in love, getting married, and having children was the normal life, and she wanted to be normal. Who doesn’t want to be normal in high school? Anything not normal gets picked on relentlessly, even when it’s something positive like being good at math or having red hair.
In college, she still dreamed of having a family in addition to being a career woman. But when she was in med school, she wasn’t so sure anymore. There was a man she idolized, and he seemed so capable and intelligent, yet he was willing to leave his wife and daughter to pursue something with her.
At 23, 24 years old, that simply blew her mind. How strong and weak love could be.
Her parents loved each other so much, despite most of their time were spent apart. Ahab was always away, and mom filled her life with children and church and volunteering.
Maybe that was when the whole idea started to seem… repulsive. Daniel must have loved the mother of his child, but he was ready to throw it all away for love. How foolish. How insane. How ugly.
Jack wanted to marry her, too, even they had only dated for about a year. Ellen couldn’t understand—but she got married at 20 and had her first kid at 21. Missy also couldn’t understand, either—I thought you wanted kids, she said.
Mom didn’t understand. Bill didn’t understand. And Mulder didn’t understand.
Mulder. He keeps asking, and she keeps not saying yes.
She’s amazed about his persistence, really. His proposals are out of the blue and always genuine, and she hates not being able to say yes. It’s strange, really, that she knows she wants to spend the rest of her life with Mulder, she knows she cannot imagine anyone but Mulder as the father of her miracle babies, and she knows that they’ll always be together. But getting a piece of paper that says so, wearing a piece of jewelry on her fingers that announces so just isn’t how she wants it.
Everyone in her world knows about her and Mulder. No ring or paper needed. Yet he wants to make it official, Bill does, Mom does, and if Missy was alive, she’d plan the wedding for her, which would most likely end up with her wearing flowers in her hair and Mulder wearing something ridiculous like a kilt just because he’s got pretty legs.
Mulder does have pretty legs, and Missy was crazy like that.
Sometimes, the thought of spending the rest of her life with Mulder is overwhelming.
It’s Mulder. It’s the man she loves more than life itself. It’s the man who drops everything to go to the end of the world for her. It’s the man who thinks of her as the only thing that matters. Her Mulder.
But it’s also the man who believes in unicorn and leprechauns, a brainiac who can’t tip right, who drags her to haunted houses and into restricted areas. His mind is filled with wacky theories that include witches and vampires and Bigfoot and aliens. He always mixes work and pleasure, never plays by the rules, and spends 5 percent of his brilliant mind on innuendoes and dirty jokes.
She knows that she’s been married long before the ceremony, long before the missing presence of a ring on her finger, and long before her two miracle babies and three dogs and a house in the suburbs. Mulder’s never doubted how this will end, just like how he’s never doubted the fact that she’s immortal, and occasionally frets on Sunday mornings with how can I obtain immortality too?
Immortality doesn’t sound too bad if she’ll always have Mulder, Scully thinks while holding his hand at the line for the movie.
“That’ll be one adult and, uh,” Mulder says to the kid behind the ticket counter.
“Two adults, please.” She hears herself saying. She’ll have to listen to this joke for the rest of her life.
“There goes the churro money.” Mulder pouts and mutters in a low voice. “Back in my days…”
She wants to say Shut up, Mulder, but moves closer and laughs into his bicep instead.
He had noticed the big Ferris wheel on the first day. And he thought as a reward for solving a non-X-File, he’d take Scully to the amusement park.
No scary rides, she warned, to which he replied, I’ll let you hold my hand.
Mulder had assumed that she wasn’t afraid of heights, though he recalled the several times she had broken into a cold sweat on airplanes during the first year of their partnership. He had written that off as a fear of flying.
Somehow that’d gone away after she was return. Scully never seemed to be edgy on planes anymore, she could even read a case file or take a nap, and he pretended not to notice this new thing her.
They still couldn’t talk about that. Her being taken, her being returned. Not at all. Mulder didn’t think they ever would, no matter how close they’d become in the future.
He could let her have that piece of her all to herself; he knew that he had a few demons he had to keep in his closets. Demons he wished Scully would never meet.
So, there they were, standing in line for the Ferris wheel. The wait wasn’t going to be long, Mulder estimated, though the ride seemed like it’d be a good ten minutes or so.
Mulder felt like it was a lifetime ago that he last visited an amusement park. He threw up after the tea cup, and sat pale and sickly as his cousins Barry and Ira gave him ice water and wet paper towels with worried expressions on their chubby faces. All three of them were under ten. Samantha was nowhere in sight.
For such a large Ferris wheel, their cart, a light blue one with nice big windows, was surprisingly cozy. The young man that took their tickets eyed both him and Scully from head to toe, as they were in their workday’s best, they stuck out like sore thumbs amongst the halter tops and cargo pants wore by all the others.
Nice one, the young man muttered to him, he was sure, though Mulder couldn’t be sure if the man had meant that as a compliment paid to him for having a companion as pretty as Scully, or just a simple good wish for a fun ride.
The cart was small as is, and it rocked back and forth slightly, which rattled Mulder a bit. He did not recall Ferris wheels to move like that. Once it started ascending, it began to settle, and he let out a sigh, suddenly feeling relieved.
“This is not a scary ride.” He added, feeling a little embarrassed.
“When was the last time you rode one of these?” Scully asks; her eyes were focused on him.
“Hmmm…” Mulder tried to remember. Cable carts? Sky? He was alone. Why would he be alone? He had slipped and almost died.
Scully chuckled. “That long, huh?”
An urge overcame him unexpectedly, and as a reflex, Mulder reached over to grab her hand.
“Mulder?” Her voice was now without mirth.
“I, I just remembered wrong.” He smiled weakly and squeezed her hand to show that he’s fine. “Instead of my last Ferris wheel ride, my mind had conjured up me being outside of a… sky tram.”
“What were you doing outside of a sky tram?” She smiled at him, eyes full of amusement. “Another Chapter in the Adventure of Fox Mulder.”
Mulder quickly weighted whether to tell her about this particular adventure. Scully never knew about him going up to Skyland with Krycek, never knew he had almost broken the tram by speeding it up as if it were an amusement park ride, never knew he almost got smashed into a tower, never knew he was so, so, so close to…
“It was on…” he began, but couldn’t finished: “it wasn’t important. I had many nightmares from that adventure.”
They sat in silence as the Ferris wheel carried them higher and higher. Mulder felt a peaceful serenity, most likely because the view was breathtaking, most likely because they had nowhere to go until their flight home at noon tomorrow, most likely because Scully was with him. He looked down and saw that her hand was still in his. The Ferris wheel must be a scary ride, he figured.
Mulder wondered how deep their nonverbal communication were. Deep, as deep as the sky, maybe. She must have read it, must have known, or else she wouldn’t be holding onto his hand so tight that her fingers were beginning to leave indention marks on the back of his hand.
“I think I very well could’ve died up there,” he muttered.
“Thanks.” Scully said, and he knew that she had figured it out. She never needed to thank him, never; Mulder wanted to know the best way to tell her that.
“Good thing I didn’t, huh? Or else you’d have no partner to return to when you came back.” He tried to change the tone; they’re in an amusement park, for God’s sake, they should be happy and merry and eating candied apples and funnel cakes and riding some silly and non-vomit-inducing rides next, like the bumper cars.
“Well, in that case, I might not come back at all.” She said it with every ounce of seriousness she had, and it was his turn to look at her in awe.
“Scully…” Mulder’s voice trailed off. It took courage for him to speak again: “How far can you see? Can you see the ocean?”
He turned around to see what she was seeing; his brain reminded him that they were still holding hands like little kids on a scary roller coaster ride.
“Far, Mulder,” She said softly yet resolutely. “Real far.”
She can’t believe they are doing this. Everything is happening so fast and she doesn’t know when did her joking respond turned into realty.
She doesn’t do things like this. Mulder does, though to give him some credit, he hasn’t pull something off like this for nearly a year. And at least this time she’s with him, and that should count for something, shouldn’t it?
Dana Scully doesn’t do well when nothing is planned. And Mulder’s words of don’t worry baby certainly doesn’t ease her worry, especially not when he’s singing it like he’s the sixth member of the Beach Boys while throwing her that moronic yet endearing look. Overly confident but not without a hint of reserve, he’s her favorite enigma.
“D-don’t we need to stop by your place?” Scully stutters a little and she thinks she’s allowed that.
“I can buy everything I need there; I only need to have you.” He flashes her an honest-to-God smile. “I feel like the only thing I need from my apartment is my toothbrush.”
“You can buy a toothbrush too.” She adds. “The hotel usually has them, however crappy and hard they come.”
“Scully,” he chuckles, “how do you know where we’re going even has a hotel?”
She looks at him as if all the energy has been drained from her hands and feet. The pure look of fear. “Mulder, if this turns out to be a case…”
Her warning tone doesn’t rattle him one bit. He looks as if she’s onto something, and soon, too soon, those plump and sexy lips disappear into a thin line, and Mulder knows he’s gone too far. “Just kidding. Relax. We’re staying at a hotel, I guess I can tell you that much. Langly booked the classiest one he could get his hands on.”
“Langly did the booking?” She asks with an arched eyebrow.
“Yep.” Mulder nods; he decides not to tell her why Langly owes him such a big favor that he has to heck into an airline database and a hotel system on such a short notice.
But they do stop by at Mulder’s place for a short moment, just to feed the fish and grab a few changes of clothes.
“Think they’ll have sunflower seeds?” He asks, and quickly laughs merrily: “Silly me, how would you know, you have no idea where we’re going.”
Scully pretends to throw him an annoyed look. She’s trying to enjoy this from the get-go, and if she keeps reminding herself, she can actually do it. Not knowing where they’re going, not knowing how many days, not knowing anything besides the fact that she’ll be spending some time off with Mulder. She does trust him, and if this is not the ultimate test of trust, what is?
Not knowing where, not knowing what, not knowing anything, just time. With Mulder. The man who believes in UFO parties and haunted houses and unicorns and sea monsters.
Oh boy.
“C’mon Scully, let’s get moving. I don’t want that plane to take off without us on it. Chop chop.” Mulder slaps his hand on his thighs while she’s still saying goodbye to the fish.
In and out of his place in less than 10 minutes. Their departure time is in an hour. Guess we’re really gonna do this, she muses.
Mulder tosses his bag in the backseat and smiles at her. Scully’s always amazed at how few things some men like Mulder can get by without some necessities—a feat neither of her brothers possesses. Mulder’s equally impressed at how quickly Scully can go at a drop of a hat; must be that Navy upbringing and her drive of always wanting to be prepared.
“Let’s get the show on the road, Baby.” He says and she swats his nose with her index finger. Mulder hopes she’ll keep doing that for the whole vacation.
He knows he’ll need to call Frohike about feeding the fish. The old man would snicker and reply, why don’t I just adopt them already?
Frohike’s really been a good sport about the whole thing. Mulder had expected jealousy, anger, resentment… But the old boy is really rooting for them with all his might.
It’s good to have friends and so good to have Scully. His best friend and lover. How did he get so damned lucky? He hasn’t ever looked forward to having a vacation since…forever.
It’s hard to get her to board the plane without seeing the destination, but he does it. Langly has suggested first class, but Mulder opts for privacy over the extra leg room and dining experience. They have a row to themselves without any seat neighbors, and he finds himself feeding Scully from airplane peanuts to dinner rolls to those mashed potatoes in a creamy mushroom sauce. Their little monitors have all been shut off, so Scully cannot see the flight map, and Mulder spends the majority of the seven-hour plane ride telling her remakes of mythologies from the Eastern Hemisphere.
“I can’t believe we’re doing this,” She says softly in his ear. “Tell me about the story of the huge golden ship again.”
He does. It does not surprise him that Scully likes the story about a ship on a great voyage.
They both fall asleep somewhere above the Atlantic, dreaming of nothing but each other.
Mulder wakes and turns on the monitor, hoping Scully will stay in slumber for a little longer. They are very close to their destination, and he feels so excited, like he was nine years old and visiting his Aunt Shirley in Louisiana for the first time.
“Hey Baby,” he mutters as Scully begins to wake up. The pilot must have turned on that magic to wake all the passenger up as he’s about to land. She moves to slide up the blind of the window to peek at the sky.
“Gosh Mulder,” I can’t believe we’re doing this…” She turns and sees that he’s right behind her, looking out the window as the plane descend.
He just whispers lowly into her ear, “Welcome to first our vacation, baby.”
She hates the song. She cringes every time it comes on the radio.
Mulder seems to like it. Then again, he likes Prince, so even after knowing this man for over 18 years, she still doesn’t know Mulder’s taste in music.
Eighteen years. Sometimes it seems so long ago when they first met. So much has happened. Yet Mulder continues to seem like he’s a man and boy mixed into one.
His tortured soul makes him old, but he’s so boyish at times, and Scully loves him for it. Though she always tells him that she wouldn’t change a thing between them, that she wouldn’t change a thing about him, sometimes even she knows it isn’t entirely true.
And that’s all Scully thinks about every time that song is played on the radio.
And the song is played on the radio all the damned time.
The radio plays it so often that she can’t help singing along with it. Like being a happy camper in her mother’s station wagon, she sings along in traffic as if she’s brain-washed. Who cares? No one is in the car with her, the people in the other cars won’t hear her, and it’s an upbeat song. No harm no foul, right?
Wrong. She has totally forgotten that Mulder’s coming with her into Baltimore today. How can she forget?! They had chatted about that news report in New Jersey on a driverless car doing donuts. Mulder had mistaken it to be one of those robotic vehicles until he found a video clip of the incident and saw that it was a regular sedan suck in reverse. Then, they made the decision of visiting her mother in Baltimore after lunch.
How quickly she forgets that he’s in the car with her. Well, she’s just two years shy of turning 50.
But Scully has no idea that not only Mulder knows the lyrics of the song, he interjects his reply almost impeccably.
“Hey I just met you,” she sings.
“No, you didn’t.” He snickers.
“And this is crazy,”
“who me?” He looks at her while pointing an index finger on his chest, looking adorably puzzled. Good thing they’re at the traffic light or she might crash the car.
“And here’s my number.”
“I got it, baby.” Mulder winks at her.
“So call me, maybe.” She breaks out into a giggle when he responds: “Definitely!”
“Will you always sing to me, Scully?” Mulder captures her right hand and plants a light kiss on it.
“No way.” She says.
But she does. In the shower, in the kitchen, while he’s shaving, while he’s cooking. She prides herself for letting herself enjoy singing, and he prides himself for getting his love to sing to him.
The air is cold. It’s freaking April and Spring is here, but the air is cold because he can’t get Scully to see his way.
Sure, the case is silly, Mulder admits. A woman in Pennsylvania claims to have fostered cubs of mythical creatures she found in the woods behind her house, and two days ago, all the cubs vanished without a trace. Woman claims them to be griffins, which she believes will fetch a handsome price at the black market for exotic animals.
Of course, Scully doesn’t believe in griffins. Mulder isn’t sure he does, either. He’s requested to see some photos, but the woman says she’ll only show the many evidence she possesses in person.
Scully vetoes the case. Maybe she’s a avoiding a visit to the City of Brotherly Love, though to be exact, Mrs. Silverstone lives on the outskirt of Philadelphia. Or maybe Scully just doesn’t care about recovering missing cubs, pets or not. Or maybe she is worried that this will be a repeat of that case in Bellflower, California, which he was so easily lured out by an internet acquaintance. But in Mulder’s defense, that was a legit case, just like this one has the potential to be.
Plus, Mulder’s quite sure that Mrs. Silverstone is a grandma and married. But bring that up certainly doesn’t put away Scully’s reluctance of taking on the case.
“This isn’t a joke!” He wiles. “I think it’s worth a trip, Baby.”
Scully’s expression freezes in the air.
“Scully? Honey?”
Stunned, she looks like her brain has shut down.
“Hey—”
She cuts him off mid-sentence: “We’re talking about work, Mulder, you can’t be calling me babyorhoney.”
“Scully!” His amazement and amusement are both present in his reply. “I’m talking to you. And you never minded those when I called you before.”
“Yes, but context, Mulder! Where we are and what we are doing make a world of difference. We’re talking about work now, and you can’t spring on your babysandhoneys whenever you run out of things to say to convince me otherwise.”
“Oh trust me, Scully, I haven’t ran out of things to say about that, but seriously, I can’t use terms of endearments with you outside of… the bedrooms? That’s ridiculous!”
“Oh?”
Mulder’s never seen her eyes so big.
“I’ve always done that, Scully.” He argues. “You just don’t know.”
“What do you mean you’ve always done that? This is the first time you call me by one of thosewhile discussing work!”
“Oh, that’s what you hear. I call you cute nicknames in my head all the time. Baby, honey, sugar, sweet potato, munchkins, pumpkin, honeybunny, my cabbage, boo-boo, sweetie pie, baby cat, the list goes on and on.”
“You’re lying.”
“Try me, liebling.”
“How do you know so many?” She asks with an air of suspicion.
“A lot of them were what my Bubbe called me. The rest just came to me.”
“What’s your favorite one?”
“Scully.”
“No, Mulder, what’s the favorite term of endearment you imagined using on me?” Her smile makes him swoon. The smile of the girl-next-door, shy yet friendly. Confident only because she feels comfortable in your presence. He’s so grateful to see this smile; at times like this Mulder wishes he has a God to thank for small wonders like this.
“It’sScully. That’s my favorite term of endearment.” He confesses. “Do you remember what we were fighting about, Dana Banana?”
Her eyebrows perk up at that term. And Mulder knows she remembers, but he also knows that his Dana Banana will play dumb for his sake.
“Nope. You threw me off by calling me Baby in the heat of the argument.”
“So…baby is off the table?”
Another time when Mulder wishes he were a religious man, so that he could actually call someone when he prays.
“No.”
“Come here, munchkins.”
“That one’s off the table.” She settles in his arms.
“Yes, Dear.”
“That one’s off the table, too.”
She quickly kisses him so he doesn’t have to keep trying.
He holds his wife in his arms and tries harder, “I really think we should.”
Scully gives out a little sigh. “Mulder, of all the times we’ve spent in the woods, it surprises me that you still consider that to be fun. You know, sometimes I worry about you and your definition of fun.”
“But the Gunmen says it’ll be rad. Gibbs’ got a really good deal on this camper, complete with an oven, a grill, a huge refrigerator, and an indoor shower! We can star-gaze! Cricket will love it. None of the kids have been camping, really. Can you believe that?”
Scully wonders why Mulder would equate having the amenities of a camper with indoor shower as camping.
“Mulder…” with her hands, she gently squeezes her husband’s cheeks together, “I think we need some more friends our age.”
Mulder looks at her, feigning both hurt and offense, “Scully!”
“What?” She stands by her comment. “We’re in our late fifties. How old’s Gibbs?”
“Um, he was born in ‘85, ‘86?” Mulder guesses, remembering the little geeky chess prodigy they met and protected decades ago.
“And Wallace?” She mentions one of the other Gunmen, whom they first knew as Kevin, the boy showing stigmata signs.
“Wasn’t he like 11 or 12 in ‘95? So he’s a couple of years older than Gibbs.” Mulder recalls.
“And Langly’s nephew?” Scully snaps her fingers as she tries to call up his name.
“Oodles? He’s a little younger. In his early thirties.”
“Yes, and Mulder, do you have any other friends? People who are, say, had a membership at Blockbuster?”
He chuckles. “Yeah. Skinner. He’s a friend. And Scott. Though I wouldn’t be surprised if neither of them had a Blockbuster membership back in the days.”
“Do you have any other friends?” She says as if she’s already won this argument.
“Hey, Miss Popularity, what about your friends?” Mulder retorts.
“I don’t have any, because my insanely jealous husband is just too weird.” Scully deadpans.
“There’s your answer to why I don’t have many friends.” Mulder says with his arms opened wide, “you must be this weird to be my friend.”
“Wow, thanks Bubba.” Scully pokes his belly and he winces away, dodging from more attacks.
“You know, in a way, I’m kinda the boys’ age.” He says after grabbing a hold of her arms.
She arches her eyebrows, waiting for further explanation.
“Think of it this way: I can honestly say that I got a new life when I met you, and that was 1993. So that actually makes me a good seven years younger than Gibbs. “
Scully bites her lips, smiling: “Yeah, and by that calculation, you became the world’s youngest dad at…eight years old!”
Mulder doesn’t respond, which gives her time to thinks about his words. In a way, it’s true that the first 30 years of her life seem so foreign, those days before working for the FBI. In fact, she did feel reborn that night in the forest with him, in the wind and the rain, standing in the mud, leaning against each other for support. They were babies, they truly were, and nothing could prepare those two babies from what was going to happen in the following years…
“Mulder,” She begins, “do you remember that night in that forest, in the rain?”
How can he forget? Mulder shakes his head. That same forest took time away from him, time to be with her. So much time was lost because he went back to that forest.
“Yeah?”
“That first time…You looked…so young.” She says.
“You looked twelve. Cutie Ponytail.” He teases.
“You’re the one to talk, Mister Wearing-His-Cap-Backwards.”
“I did that?” Mulder sounds surprised. In that memory, all he remembers is her. Her laughs, her eyes, her muttering where are we going. They had no luggage, no laptop, and he was already wanting to trust her. Little skeptical Miss Know-It-All. His little new spy friend.
“If you were 12 in 1993, how old are you now?” He asks. Who needs simple addition skills when you’ve got a personal math geek?
“I’d be…” Scully smiles mischievously, “a little older than 12.”
“18?”
“A little older than that.” She says, and the innocence in her eyes matches her words.
“And I’m just a little older than you are.” Mulder kisses her three times, big wet sloppy kisses.
She kisses him like he is her teenage love; she feels as if she’s lived more than one lifetimes with this man.
“Let’s ditch the kids and go camping…” She whispers, suddenly excited and on board with his idea, just with a small modification.
She pressed him on the wall of his hallway and kissed him silly, senselessly.
And all Mulder could think was, oh my God this is finally happening.
Afterwards, Scully teased him about chanting oh my God over and over again, and he found himself hiding his face in her hair, never wanting to let her go. Never, never ever.
This was when Mulder finally realized an ultimate truth. They can burn his office. They can take away his career. They can destroy and deny everything. But take Dana Scully away from him, and nothing else fucking mattered.
He made up his mind. He wanted to wake up next to Dana Scully for the rest of his life. No one was going to take her from him, no one. If they thought he was stubborn before, they have no idea what’s coming their way.
“Guess we’re moving to Salt Lake City.” He whispered in her ear and she frowned. He noticed the frown and panicked immediately.
So, he had read it wrong. Scully thought this was goodbye. She thought this was her sendoff; he thought this was a start, a celebration.
“Mulder,” She brought a hand to rub his cheek. “Wipe that panic off your face.”
He opened his mouth, trying to say something witty, something funny, something to hide his feelings, to shelter his humiliations with humor, but his brain had simply stopped responding.
“Mulder?” Scully caressed his forehead with the inside of her palm. Her index finger traveled down his nose and glided down to his lips. He kissed her fingertip, still wordless. “I don’t really want to move to Salt Lake City.”
Her confession confused him. She said she was going to pack when she walked out of his apartment. That was why he grabbed her and refused to let go. She bowed her head, looking helpless and pained. He couldn’t help but tightened his embrace on her and smoothed down her hair, and accidentally squished a little hitchhiker that was hiding in her collar. But Mulder wasn’t going to let the death of a bee stop him from spilling his guts out: “But you saved me. As difficult andfrustrating as it’s been sometimes, your God-damned strict rationalism and science have saved me a thousand times over…”
He liked to think her kisses were awards for his honesty. Mulder practically lost his mind kissing her, loving her, cherishing her, and treasuring her.
“Salt Lake City, Atlantic City, Panama City, Carson City, I don’t care where you want to go, Scully, I… I need you.”
It was her turn to be speechless, but his mind was now functioning high and was fueled by his courage. “All that I said in the hallway, about owing you everything, about you making me a whole person…I don’t think saying I love you is enough…”
Scully continued to be wordless, yet he went on, “Stay with me. Let me go with you. Be with me. L-love me. Let me love you…”
“Are you really ready to… leave the FBI?” Her voice was small, as if she couldn’t believe herself for asking the question.
He chuckled. “No, but I’m ready to be with you. Anything you want to do. Will you accept that? Let me be with you,” he paused, licking his lips nervously, “till death do us part?”
“Mulder…” She pushed herself off his chest and Mulder wondered if he had said something wrong. “Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”
“Yes.” He pulled her back and held her like a boy with his favorite plush rabbit. “Say yes, Scully. Say Yes you can follow me to the end of the world, ‘cause you know I will.”
“Yes.” Scully said before kissing him.
They resigned the next day. A week later, they began their honeymoon around the world, a present from the Gunmen andSkinner. They saw London and France, dipped their toes in the Pacific and the Atlantic, ate foods with chopsticks and their hands. It was over a plate of curry when Scully mentioned to him the idea she had been mulling over ever since she’d heard it on a radio program.
“We should start a library.”
“A what?” Mulder looked at his wife with amusement.
“A library. It’s the best place to document and store what we know.” Scully said with glimmer in her eyes. Mulder knew they could leave the X-Files, but no one could take the X-Files out of them.
“What’s gonna be in this library, Scully? Myth and Legends? Folklores?”
“Sure. Traditional and non-traditional ones. Stories and books from the East and the West. A section for debunked ones. A shelve designated for all the issues of The Magic Bullet. Things you believe. We can build a database on the occult.”
“Scullee!” He exclaimed, “if you weren’t already married to me… You’re making me want to marry you all over again.”
She pretended to roll her eyes but her smile was brilliant.
They began building the Library of X. The Gunmen promoted it shamelessly, and the public’s knowledge of it protected them from Big Brothers. Donations and memberships poured in because the public wanted to know. They visited places to collect strange phenomenons, monkey babies and Elvis lives and lovers pact in haunted mansions. They kept a website that had an unimaginable amount of readership; it documented their travels with videos, pictures, and musings, and Mulder joked about being real-life Ghostbusters, which his wife disagreed with a we just keep a record of what we see, an unbiased view from a believer and a skeptic. But their library was the real deal, a place even researchers and government agencies went to for credible resources.
Years went by and Mulder never looked back. Scully now had grays in her hairs and laugh lines on her face. He knew she was happy; so was he. He sometimes wondered if there was another universe, where they did stay and kept going. He hoped to the stars that those other two were just as happy.
It’s the coldest day, ever. The perky weathergirl has informed him this morning that the temperature would drop to 24 degrees. That’s -5 Celsius, folks, she adds, and Mulder wonders why she even says that.
Scullylistensto the news. She listens to it while doing chores. Mulder used to imagine her listening to things like Bach or even Bruce Springsteen at home, but that was before he really got to know her.
“I take a bath with it.” She laughs when he tells her that assumption.
“A bath with him? With them?”
“No, listening to them.” She chides playfully.
“Who do you listen to when you shower?” He asks.
“You.” She puckers her lips indicating for a little kiss, which he is more than happy to oblige.
But she doesn’t listen to him. Not when she’s showering nor when she’s doing the dishes. She listens to the perky weathergirl on channel 9.
Scully gets cold more easily than he does. The only time she’s ever complained about their office—besides her nonexistent desk, of course— was about the lack of proper heating. She mentioned it once to the Boys, and Langly gave her a handwarmer one Christmas, the little sneaky bastard. Mulder was pissed and so was Frohike; but it was Byers who said not cool man, that’s not cool.
Mulder would actually expect that from Frohike, but Langly? Really?
Sometimes he forgets how popular Scully really is with the boys and the girls.
Mulder brings a portable heater into their office after that New Year, and grins every time she moves it right next to her chair for warmth.
“You lack body fat, Scully.” He says with a serious expression and she rolls her eyes. Not that he has any complaint about Scully’s body, of course; he just thinks that she won’t be as cold.
He offers to move them to California for the sun. Warm, nice, sunny beaches. He’s got nothing tying him to anywhere; he can go wherever she wants to go. Anywhere in the world, as long as it’s with her.
“I like being closer to my mother, Mulder, and San Diego is more like…Bill’s turf.” She reminds him and chuckles when he winces. Only half of that wince is for show.
“We can stay under the radar. What about Pacifica?” He suggests. His cousin Barry lived there for a while.
“Pacifica?”
“Yeah. Near the coast. Warm Pacific Ocean. Not too sunny, not too loud. A nice quiet seaside town. We can go swimming every day, picnic on the sand.” He’s selling this place without even trying to.
“Mulder,” she stops him before he goes further, “you know people typically wear board shorts to the beach, right?”
Scully points at her knee to make a visual for him.
“Are you trying to say I can’t wear my Speedos? Not even the gray ones?”
“You have gray ones?” She responds with an arched eyebrow.
He frowns slightly at her comment; of course he does, most of his swimwear are in dark, solid colors, he’s sure. They’re nothing like his ties.
“I just wanna make sure you know,” she smirks, then adds with a certain nod: “I don’t want to move to Pacifica, Mulder.”
Mulder tries to read what she doesn’t say, then gives in to his curiosity. “Because you want to see me in Speedos?”
Scully just looks at him. She used to look at him like he’s an idiot when he says things like that. She still does, but she does it with a smile, and Mulder wants to make her smile for the rest of her life.
“If it’s by the ocean, the humidity’s gonna get us. We have aging bones and wounded joints. We’re not 25 anymore.” Scully sighs a little, “even with the heater on, I still think my apartment is cold. If I crank it up, I feel like it gets too stuffy and I can’t breathe. This is what I get for being down in that basement of yours without a proper heater.”
She smiles at him to let him know that she isn’t really complaining about her basement. Mulder quickly stands up and runs into her bedroom, leaving her confused with arched eyebrows too late to be seemed.
“Come here.” He says with his arms wide. Her comforter is draped on his shoulder like a cape, and he looks like the silliest Superman.
Scully steps into his open arms and he immediately wraps her up. “Might I interest you in the Mulderheater 3000? It’s loud, but it’s got the nicest motored heart that’ll keep your mind and body warm. You won’t even miss spring.”
“Mmm,Mulderheater 3000,” Scully knocks on his chest with her knuckles. “It’s got a nice built, but I think it’s hard to lug it around places…”
Mulder maneuvers the two of them into the bedroom as she giggles nonstop. Down on the bed they go, and Scully laughs into his chest. He does his best to rain kisses down on her, anywhere his lips can reach:
Summary: Fury sends you back in time on a mission. How will you handle seeing Steve and Bucky in the 40s?
Word Count: 4717
Warnings: nothing big, some angst, strong language, time travel
a/n: I don’t really know what this is, but it’s happened. It’s pretty Bucky x reader heavy, but technically a Stucky x reader fic. Pls ignore any typos, I hand wrote this and then transferred it and it was a mess. Apple’s new feature of copying text from a photo is not the most accurate (at least for handwritten stuff)
“What’s the mission?” you questioned Maria while jogging slightly to keep up with her. “And why me?”’
“Fury’s orders,” she answered in her familiar no nonsense tone. She handed you a file folder, briefly describing the mission as she lead you to Fury. “You need to retrieve a file.“
You furrowed your brow as you read through the file. “From the U.S. Army? I thought Fury on good terms with the government. Why not just ask for the file?”
Summary: Steve has a secret… until suddenly he doesn’t. Steve x Single Mom!Reader
Warnings: canon typical violence, probably some cursing
Word Count: 4349
a/n: I really fell in love with this idea. I think I dreamt it, but honestly I’m not sure. You can visualize Lily anyway you’d like, I just chose this picture bc it’s cute.
“Ninety-nine, One hundred.” Lily jumped out of the closet, ready to follow your instructions. She checked the phone, just like you said, but it was broken in the fight.
Instead, she packed her backpack with anything she thought she could need in an emergency and left.
She walked confidently through your apartment door, down the stairs, and to the subway stop. Maybe it was this confidence that lead the adults surrounding her to leave her be, or maybe it was just the fact she was in New York City and passerby couldn’t be bothered.
Warnings: criminal minds level violence, mention of past teacher/student relationship
word count: ~1800
When you open your eyes, you are struck by how dark it is. After you moved to DC, it took a while for you to grow accustomed to not having complete darkness. Even in your apartment at night, light still filters in through the curtains.
“Our unsub could definitely be a woman. I mean, mad woman, the Man? Those are some pretty obvious clues.” Emily threw the idea out as soon as Reid was done listing titles.
Things continued on like that for the next few months. You and Spencer would go on dates whenever he wasn’t on a case. When he was away, you would call each other every night you could. To say you were happier than you’ve ever been would be an understatement.
Chapter 8 of In Breakable Heaven! Two chapters in a day because I was on a roll! :)
Summary: A little friendly competition between our secret couple.
Warnings: implied smut
Word count: ~2600
How did I get myself into this mess? You kept thinking the same thought over and over again. A few days ago, Morgan got you’re competitive side to flare up and now you are royally screwed. The team wanted to unwind after the case that so rudely interrupted you and Spencer’s date, but Spencer just wanted to see you. They still don’t know about your relationship though. You’ve actually got a bet going on who will figure it out first, but that’s beside the point. The two of you constructed a plan to get Penelope to invite you along with her to the teams bar outing. If you had known it would lead you here, maybe you would have just met Spencer at his apartment afterwards.
Summary: Steve has a secret… until suddenly he doesn’t. Steve x Single Mom!Reader
Warnings: canon typical violence, probably some cursing
Word Count: 4349
a/n: I really fell in love with this idea. I think I dreamt it, but honestly I’m not sure. You can visualize Lily anyway you’d like, I just chose this picture bc it’s cute.
“Ninety-nine, One hundred.” Lily jumped out of the closet, ready to follow your instructions. She checked the phone, just like you said, but it was broken in the fight.
Instead, she packed her backpack with anything she thought she could need in an emergency and left.
She walked confidently through your apartment door, down the stairs, and to the subway stop. Maybe it was this confidence that lead the adults surrounding her to leave her be, or maybe it was just the fact she was in New York City and passerby couldn’t be bothered.
“There’s something I haven’t been completely honest about.” You blurted out taking a break from cleaning. It had been a few months since Halloween, and you and Spencer have hung out whenever possible, but never calling anything a date. You had both gotten pretty busy with the holidays, but still made time. He is basically your best friend, but you want more than that. You just aren’t sure he feels the same way.
Spencer turned from where he was reading on the couch immediately mirroring the nervous expression he could see on your face. “What is it? You know you can tell me anything. That’s what friends are for.” Ugh, friends. This is so confusing. As he walked up to you, you thought you noticed a glimmer of hope in his eyes, but you brush it off. You need to focus.
You woke up slowly, not realizing you were on the couch with another human. As usual, you tried to roll over and go back to sleep, but instead of landing on the other side of your bed you land squarely on the floor between your couch and coffee table. Spencer shifted on the couch to look down at you as the two of you burst into laughter.
“Ooh, since you’re dressed as a singer, you have to go first in karaoke. We can’t start until everyone is here though. Penelope’s rules.” Emily declares.
Summary: What will you do when Bucky figures out your biggest secret?
Warnings: self inflicted wounds/suicide (see notes at end for more information if you’d like to know more before reading!), drunk driver, aliens that are like bees
Word Count: 8964
a/n: AHHH I’ve been writing this for forever! Every time I thought it was the end, I realized I had more to say lol. Another fic where we pretend everyone is alive and living happily together ♀️ Also, please ignore all the fake shit I made up about these freaking aliens and bees and the like… it just kind of happened. I tried to stick to the comics and it really just snowballed.
“Hey, Y/N,” Sam greeted you as you boarded the jet. “You ready for this one?”
“Shouldn’t be any different from the last five,” you quipped back having grown used to the team of four. You, Sam, Steve, and Wanda had gone on five consecutive missions together, getting in and getting things done quickly. Sam eyed you curiously, seemingly confused. “What?”
“Steve isn’t the only super soldier coming on this one,” Wanda cut in. “Bucky is too.”
This is such an interesting concept and I love the backstory you created for the reader! It’s very nuanced and really makes you think about all of the trauma she would be dealing with (and on her own). Thank you for sharing your story; it was a pleasure to read!
Thank you so much! I’m so glad you enjoyed reading it! the backstory was really fun to write
Summary: What will you do when Bucky figures out your biggest secret?
Warnings: self inflicted wounds/suicide (see notes at end for more information if you’d like to know more before reading!), drunk driver, aliens that are like bees
Word Count: 8964
a/n: AHHH I’ve been writing this for forever! Every time I thought it was the end, I realized I had more to say lol. Another fic where we pretend everyone is alive and living happily together ♀️ Also, please ignore all the fake shit I made up about these freaking aliens and bees and the like… it just kind of happened. I tried to stick to the comics and it really just snowballed.
“Hey, Y/N,” Sam greeted you as you boarded the jet. “You ready for this one?”
“Shouldn’t be any different from the last five,” you quipped back having grown used to the team of four. You, Sam, Steve, and Wanda had gone on five consecutive missions together, getting in and getting things done quickly. Sam eyed you curiously, seemingly confused. “What?”
“Steve isn’t the only super soldier coming on this one,” Wanda cut in. “Bucky is too.”
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