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Top 5 Emily headcanons (I mean *your* Em, not Christopher Carter’s :P)
1. she is not getting in the bathtub. not for you, not ever, people die in there. emily kicks and screams—literally, once, kicked scully in the shin—until mulder had to come over and talk dana off the ledge.
(mulder: it’s just that she’s terrified, scully, and if she didn’t trust you she wouldn’t show it. scully: she’s four.)
but it is just that emily is terrified, and subsequently interested to know that once scully too was very afraid of the bathtub, really, for real. but the bathtub can also be nice and warm and bubbly, and you can use the cleansing foam dana bought from la mer when she thought god could forgive her for dying with a $95.00 charge on her american express. to convince emily with finality, scully leads bravely by example. she climbs into that bathtub herself and holds out her arms to lift her daughter in. she washes emily’s hair. she shows emily how to rub her soapy hands together and blow bubbles out from between her fingers. she acquiesces: that’s right, she does have boobs. at thirty-four pounds emily experiences a near-total antigravity, perched chest-deep in suds, balanced on the very tips of her fingers, a toe in the air. scully tickles her pruny foot.
it’s ok, emily admits of this bath the two of them had taken together. as if they were scully herself and melissa as girls. when they’re done emily wants a pink towel. her hair doesn’t curl like scully’s when wet, but it tangles like corn silk on her pillow.
2. like her mommy, emily enjoys things under a microscope, likes the way they squirm.
“that one is pretty,” she will say, selecting a navy blue cardigan for scully with scallops around the neck. later, as mulder and the girls eat vegetable pizza on the carpet, she will ask, “do you think dana’s sweater is pretty?”
that’s what he calls them—on the phone to his mother, to skinner. the girls.
“emily picked it out,” scully explains.
“oh.” mulder pretends to absorb this information like it changes his opinion. “it’s very pretty.”
emily does not quite understand that they aren’t an item, or knows all too well that they are. from the very first, she regarded mulder with serious, evaluating eyes, trusting him only by following the signals of trust that were scully’s. by the transitive property, she decided he would do—if he was good enough for dana.
she remains a child of few words—a scully of few words, moreover—but mulder knows he is constantly under evaluation. perhaps part of it is emily messing with him, because she takes great pleasure in pretending that he isn’t funny, and she too is used to being watched, being tested. no more needles, he remembers. perhaps like her mother she believes a thin disinterest will throw him off the scent of her humanity, its fear, its need. mostly he suspects that his relationship with scully is the only healthy one between a man and woman emily’s ever seen.
emily pretends he isn’t funny but giggles when he jumps out at scully, “boo!” from behind the refrigerator door as she hunts for the jar of pickles. when emily is cranky and scully says “let mulder carry you,” she listens. perhaps it is only that he’s around.
“is dana your girlfriend?” emily asks him at the hoover building vending machine while her mother is in the restroom. mulder scouts for onlookers.
“well.” he raps on what is apparently the slowest food dispensing machine known to man, then gives it a good jiggle. “she’s a girl. and she’s my friend.” he’s beginning to sweat at the collar.
finally, the little debbie falls out. “eat this before dana sees you.” at least it’s oatmeal.
3. soon enough it is easter season. mulder does not believe in the resurrection, but now he has someone with whom to explode marshmallow peeps in the microwave. in fact two someones. for scully this qualifies as a science experiment, though she warns of radiation. “don’t stand too close, emily.”
4. it’s not just that he’s around, though he is more around than marshall sim ever was: it’s that he buys her a goldfish and the gravel for its aquarium and the whole bowl and sets it up on her nightstand before scully can say no way, josé. it’s that he tolerates—no, beams—at displays of toddler gymnastics that he has already seen several—more than several—times. it’s that the girls keep him even though he mixes up the face towel and the hand towel, and that he too is extremely disturbed by the scene in stuart little where stuart gets trapped in the washing machine. “we don’t like this,” emily announced to her mother as they watched it, for she and mulder were holding nervous hands.
5. after easter it is summer. the chilmark house had always loomed with its many empty rooms, but now there were not so many empty: there was a pink little girl’s room for emily. there was a master bedroom and a guest bedroom if scully preferred it and, he suspected, based on the evidence, two grown-ups who loved each other.
there was a toddler cranky after a long drive up the east coast, and she hadn’t seen the beach since she was three. in fact she hardly remembered it. she jumped up and down in her little red sneakers and sticky raincoat. “shells! mommy! shells!”
“maybe there’s a crab in one,” mulder threatened like the older brother he used to be.
samantha’s room waited empty one more night. emily slept with her mother through the thunderstorm. mulder held a flashlight under his chin when the power went out. there was a day on the beach and new england’s cold still water and after it, another one. there was a lobster and his brothers that scully killed without mercy, whom mulder ate mournfully for dinner. (“sorry, buddy,” he’d said as he relinquished the thing, its slow-motion claws waving. yeesh.)
there was a fire scully made in the great fireplace with a kitchen lighter she brought from home.
emily falls asleep on the sofa, on scully. there had also been two chocolate rootbeer floats. scully has her socked feet in mulder’s lap, and he flexes them for her with his thumbs against the undersides.
“she sleeps like you,” mulder observes. emily’s rosebud mouth is wilting open on scully’s collarbone.
scully hums, pets emily’s hair. “you know i can’t even talk about her.” she shakes her head, widens her eyes to telegraph the disbelief that lingers still. “i don’t know where to start.”
“she’s perfect,” mulder starts for her. “you’re both perfect.”
scully blushes.
“perfect together,” he clarifies to no one. scully has had two glasses of wine, built one fire, murdered three lobsters, and if mulder wants to melt her like a pat of butter with that clumsy affection, she’ll let him.
“thank you for inviting us here,” she whispers. she reaches for his hand and opens and shuts her own like a crab claw until he takes it. he squeezes and lets her go. she’d had to lean forward on the couch, bearing the weight of emily, to reach.
“it’s a family house.” his throat closes when scully smiles at that. emily had done this prim little waltz with a horrifying old rag doll of samantha’s. “thank you for coming.”
“we have to come back,” scully assures him, regarding the high living room ceiling and original crown molding. “are those sconces tiffany?”
#this is perfect 🥺#soo many lovely details#emily & dana conquering their fears of bath#ms emily making mulder squirm#mulder and emily holding hands watching a ‘scary’ scene#emily going from dana to mommy#emily falling asleep on scully#scully will let em do that until she’s way too big hehe#o6666666#xf ff#emily au
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If you're up to it, I have a small prompt for you: a calm Sunday early afternoon, cuddles and kisses on Scully's couch watching a romantic comedy...
P.s. I love everything you do, you're so so talented 😘
Thank you very much, Anon! Hope you enjoy.
///
There's an ache in his chest. There's been a constant, pleasant ache in his chest for the last five years or so, really, but lately it's become particularly pronounced.
It's not a worrisome ache, no. It's delicious. Warm and real and it honestly threatens to bring him to tears if he thinks about it for too long. Because he's so...God, he's so happy.
He dips his head down from where he's reclined but upright on her couch, his nose and lips met with the glossy whisper of her cornsilk hair. She's fresh and dewy from their shared shower following an early morning run, and he relishes the fact that they have absolutely nowhere to be for the rest of the day.
She's in his old college sweatshirt, coupled with tiny little black leggings and bare toes, which she keeps wriggling playfully where they rest between his shins. She's cuddled warm and relaxed against his chest, acting every bit as though she wants to be there and belongs there.
She does.
He decides to try something when she quietly giggles at some dumb, romantic joke on her television screen. He leans down again, drifting his nose against her ear and softly whispering her name. He wants her attention.
She turns immediately, curious but open, and he kisses her -- soft, lazy, slow. Nothing like the frantic, hungry biting and sucking between them in the shower fifteen minutes ago -- although he loves that, too. But this is warmth. This is sunshine. This is the plush, handsewn quilt atop her bed that he doesn't even have to question he'll be sleeping in with her tonight.
A strange sensation that feels suspiciously like butterflirs flits through his stomach when her lips part against him, her mouth opening and welcoming more. She draws in a quick breath when he lifts his hand to rest his palm against the velvet of her cheek, kissing her harder. She moans, quivers and he draws away. He doesn't want this to be a means to an end, he honestly just wants to kiss her. Just wants to make her feel as loved and as warm and cared about as she's made him feel these past few weeks.
She smiles at him, close-lipped, those crystal eyes drifting over his face in the most blatant display of gazing his sorry ass has ever seen. He smiles back, he can't help it, and changes his angle before kissing her again fully on the mouth, delighting in the way her little fingers dig at his chest like a cat kneading biscuits. She moans again and he answers with one of his own as she draws her arms around his neck, pulling her soft little body closer against his.
He draws away again, planting tiny little kisses on each corner of her mouth before sneaking another beneath her nose over that adorable mark she's been covering less and less around him. She laughs silently and he falls deeper in love, cuddling her closer and allowing her attention to be drawn back to the TV.
Thankfully the moment isn't too ruined when his stomach grumbles, because she chuckles and pats his torso.
"Sounds like I gotta make you some lunch," she says affectionately, clambering off of him and padding in her adorable bare feet to the kitchen to do just that. Without even asking. She knew he needed something and without even a thought, she just goes and...
He bites his lip, hard; even though she can't see him from the fridge he refuses to spoil this pleasant afternoon with sentimental tears.
She loves him. For some inexplicable reason, she loves him, and openly lets him know every damn day of his life. He leans back, closing his eyes as that tremendous ache blooms beneath his sternum again. He breaathes deep, smelling her shampoo, the candles on her mantle, the polish on her floor.
She asks from the kitchen if he wants mayonnaise on his balogna sandwich and he realizes he wants to marry her.
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sunday [fictober day 3]
this list | msr | s7, established relationship | (domestic) fluff | 1.2k words | pg-13 | ao3 link
prompt 14: “you better leave now.”
tagging: @today-in-fic @xffictober
––
When he wakes, it’s to the gentle vibrations of Scully snoring on top of him.
The covers are pulled up to his neck, over her head rested just there on his chest. All of her save for a single strand of hair is tucked safely beneath the sheets, her small hand curling around his ribs and her leg pinning both of his to the bed.
Outside, the sky peeking through her heavy curtains is the kind of vibrant blue that coaxes you to lay beneath it, staring up into the bright vastness until it swallows you whole.
Inside, though, Mulder’s got the only person that matters snuggled up against him. The truth, the answer, his very own Bonnie Parker, Andromeda, Boudiccea, Lois Lane. The whole world condensed down into one tiny frame, earth and sea and mystery, ever-changing and mischievous. A force of nature, mumbling faintly in her sleep.
He’d rather be laying beneath her than any sky, any day.
Keep reading
#I love all of it#every bit of it#scully sleeping and snoring on mulder#mulder coaxing her out of bed because he loves her so much#scully being all sleepy and pouty and giggly#perfect 🥺#xf ff#kittenscully
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Times mulder complimented something scully was wearing
6 Times Mulder Complimented Scully on What She Was Wearing and 1 Time He Complimented What She Wasn’t
Year 1
He’d finished his slideshow only moments before and had already shrugged into his overcoat, ready to head out the door. He waited for her by the lightswitch, waiting as she gathered her bag and her coat. She stopped though, when he didn’t move out of the doorway, blocking the exit with his arm across the door, trigger-finger on the switch.
“Mulder?” She lifted her brow in question.
“What color would you call that?” he asked, reaching out to tug on the pocket of her blazer.
“Oh, um?”
“Lavender? Or periwinkle?”
“I think periwinkle is a little more blue. Lavender, probably. Why?”
“Just wondering. It brings out your eyes.”
“Oh.”
“I like it.” He flicked the switch and moved out of the doorway so she could pass by.
She hesitated for a few moments, embarrassed without knowing quite why. “Thanks,” she murmured.
*****
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#oh my heart#this is so sweet#and so in character#i see each scene so clearly in my head#xf ff#mldrgrl
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#complex female characters#shes really done such incredible works over the years#with more to come 😌#ga
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fuck it. blanche dubois paper doll
#omg#this is too adorable!#this fandom is so talented#fanart#fran#ga#blanche dubois#a streetcar named desire
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I Want to Try- Chapter 2/2
A/N: Here is the second and final chapter of my Jean xJakob story. Spoilers ahead! Also available in AO3 @ifmuldercouldseemenow
"Jean," she hears a soft voice whispering . Jakob, she tries to answer, but she can't quite get his name out. He feels far away, and she can't quite reach him. "Jean. Jean, darling." He sounds afraid, she realizes. She feels her arm being rubbed gently.
Slowly she opens her eyes, her face straining when the light feels too bright. "Jakob?" Her eyes dart around in confusion before realizing she's laying on her couch. She doesn't remember how she got here. Before she has a chance to ask, he answers her question.
"You fainted."
"Oh" she looks embarrassed, but it quickly shifts to worry and she places her right hand on her stomach, soon sighing deeply in relief. She would know if she lost the baby. Even in these early stages, she knows she would know. She knew before. Jakob chooses that moment to take her left hand, running his calloused thumb over the space between her forefinger and thumb, as if pulling her back to reality; grounding her. She shakes her softly to dispel the bad memory. "I'm sorry, I-" But she pauses mid-sentence, unsure how to continue.
"Have you eaten?" Jakob asks, his eyes laced with concern. His voice sounds strained.
"Eaten?" She asks curiously, trying to push herself up to a sitting position on the couch, and graciously accepting his help. "No, but-"
"It is past 1:30." He says withough judgement, rising to a standing position, his hand still holding hers. "Shakshuka?"
Her stomach grumbles as if responding to his question, and he smiles softly before kissing the back of her hand and making his way to the kitchen.
"Wait-"
He turns back to look at her and his blue eyes shine. She has hurt him again, albeit unintentionally. But she couldn't not tell him. Trust. Talking. Truth
"Can you please sit with me, Jakob?"
"Are you sick?" He sounds scared.
"No." Her voice is resolute. The sofa sags a tiny bit when he sits next to her, and she turns her body so she can look in his eyes. She needed to see his unguarded response. Her heart would shatter if he rejected her now, but she would somehow find a way to manage.
"When I was pregnant with Otis, I would occasionally experience vertigo and fainting spells."
"Otis is a young man now." He states matter-of-factly, unable to see the connection of fainting spells almost two decades apart.
She licks her bottom lip, catching it in between her teeth before looking up, tears beginning to blur her vision. What would she do if he didn't want this? Didn't want her? No. That wouldn't happen. Jakob was kind. He loved her. She swallows thickly before continuing, placing her small hands atop his large ones.
"Yes, but...I'm pregnant, Jakob."
His face crumbles before her eyes and she sees a range of emotions cross his features in mere seconds. Shock, betrayal. Disappointment. Until it suddenly becomes blank.
"And have you told him?" Jakob's voice is flat and gravelly, his face wiped clean of all emotions.
"Not yet," she replies cautiously, confused by his response. She had expected shock, had optimistically hoped for excitement, but not expected apathy. And why was he asking about Otis and if he knew? Did he expect her to get an abortion? "I-I needed to talk to you first."
"I have to go," he replies gruffly, removing his hands from hers and getting off the couch quickly.
"Wait," she speeds up to meet him, catching his sweater in her fingers, pausing his flight. "Jakob, please."
"Jean, I cannot see you again," he strains, his back turned to her, and she realizes he's crying. Her hands immediately drop by her sides, her entire body deflating. Her eyes dart back and forth as brain works to put the pieces together. This was her nightmare. Of all of the anxiety-driven scenarios she thought of when imagining telling him, this was the one she dispelled as ridiculous. And now...
"I don't understand," she replies, dejectedly, still trying to understand his out-of-character response. "I know this must be unexpected after your vasectomy-"
Jakob's back suddenly goes rigid and she stops speaking suddenly, finally realizing why he was so upset. He didn't want another child. She knew that much from his vasectomy. But now it was different, because he didn't want a child with her. Collecting herself, she starts again stiffly, tilting her chin upward and squaring her shoulders, deciding on a different conversation route.
"Well then," She needs to detach herself from the situation so she could think rationally, not emotionally. They were both adults. She had raised a child on her own before and she could do it again. "Ola and Maja will of course still be welcome to-to-," but she stutters, her composure cracking under the weight of her situation. She doesn't hear him gasp in realization, too caught up in the bone-deep feeling of rejection.
46 and pregnant.
Alone.
Her eyes are shut tightly in attempt to fight against the tears already sliding down her cheeks, her right hand pressed against her chest. But suddenly she feels his large hands on either side of her face, the pads of his thumbs pushing her tears away. "Jean, Jean, Jean," he pleads desperately. She opens her red-rimmed eyes to see his, bright and full of wonder, looking directly at her.
"You are pregnant," he whispers, his hands still cupping her cheeks. "With our child," he plants a deep kiss to her forehead, before looking back at her, the lines besides his eyes crinkling in happiness. There are unshed tears in his eyes. "My baby"
And suddenly his earlier question clicks. Have you told him? He meant Remy. The realization hurts, but she can't blame him. Her indiscretion had lessened his trust in her and she would have to earn it back. She scolds herself for not realizing the source of his distress earlier, for as easy as she found it to identify and explain other's responses and feelings, she seemed hopeless when it came to sorting out the people who mattered in her own life.
"Yes," she smiles shyly, gazing into his love-filled eyes.
--------
Later, as they lay in her bed that night, both satiated, he pulls her close, her back pressed to his warm front. His hand slides across her naked hip and rests atop her stomach, softly rubbing the toned flesh there. She has never before found the need for pillow talk with her lovers, outside of discussion of performance, which Remy insisted on.
But Jakob was different. And she has to tell him. She can't let him go to sleep without telling him. Her voice is low and serious.
"I never slept with Remy, Jakob."
She shivers and he moves closer, snuggling Jean into the safety of his arms. Spooning her, his face is nearly atop hers. And so he presses his lips into the spot right where her jaw begins beneath her earlobe.
"I am sorry," he whispers. If he had taken her word, he could have saved them both a bit of heartbreak earlier.
"I didn't plan to have another child at this stage in my life," she says thoughtfully. He hums deeply in agreement. "And I know the chances at my age..."she pauses, not wanting to discuss the reality of spontaneous abortion and miscarriage tonight. "But- I'm happy."
She feels his gentle smile against her face, and his lips against her cheek. And before she knows it, she has fallen asleep, warm in his embrace.
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Of the Eight Winds - Part 5
This is part five in who knows how many from the prompt from @sunflowerseedsandscience : “Mulder is unhappily married when Scully is partnered with him, and while he doesn’t cheat (because sorry that’s not romantic), he falls for her so hard that he finally gets the courage to end the marriage and start fresh.”
Links to parts one, two, three and four.
1
“He left his wife,” she said, apropos of nothing, cutting her sister off mid-rant. Melissa had just walked through the door, carrying a bottle of wine and complaining about the parking in Dana’s neighborhood.
Missy froze where she was, one arm still in her coat.
“You’re kidding,” she said.
“I’m not,” Scully said, trying not to smile and failing.
Missy finished taking off her coat and threw it haphazardly over the back of Scully’s couch, swinging into the seat next to her at the table, her eyes intense.
“Are you sure?” Missy went on, “because they always say they’re going to leave their wife and then they nev-”
“I’m sure,” Scully said, sitting up straighter. “He went to court on Wednesday. I guess it’s been in the works for a while. It’s done.”
Missy sat there with her mouth open like a koi. She put her hand on the neck of the bottle of red wine she’d brought and then looked at it.
“Now I wish I’d brought champagne,” she said, excitement creeping in.
Blackwell chose that moment to jump onto the table. She sauntered over to Scully and gave her gentle head butt. Scully ran her hand over the cat once and then put her back down on the floor.
“What are you going to do?” Missy asked.
“Do?” Scully said, “He literally just got divorced. I’m going to give him some time to heal. I can’t do anything, Missy, the ball is necessarily in his court.”
Missy leaned back in her chair.
“That’s a mistake, Dana,” she said, “what if someone else swoops in?”
Scully smiled, thought of his mid-air confession.
“I’m not worried,” she said.
2
The morning after he walked into her apartment and kissed her, bedded her, started their forever—was awkward.
It was like taking the invisible fence collar off the dog–it still didn’t feel comfortable leaving the yard.
Finally, at 11:00am, he leaned back in his chair, threw the pen he’d been holding onto his desktop, and huffed a sigh.
“Why is this so weird?” he said, sounding perturbed.
Scully, sitting at her own desk across the room, laughed lightly.
“It doesn’t have to be,” she said, gently.
“And yet it is.” Another sigh.
She looked at him sympathetically.
“Up until very recently, what we did last night was… impermissible. Forbidden. It’s bound to take some adjustment,” she said.
He frowned.
“But I feel like we wasted so much time,” he said.
She smiled again, charmed.
“Can I see you tonight?”
Bless him, she thought, he looked nervous.
“I’d like that,” she said.
Keep reading
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gaycrouton’s Masterlist of Fanfiction
As of January 28th, 2020
Also available on AO3 and FF.net
THE X-FILES
One Shots (Sometimes Two-Shots)
Bumpy Ride [She knew she was going to be the one who would have to sit on someone’s lap, it only made sense because she was the smallest and lightest, and realistically, she knew that someone was going to be Mulder.]
Bumpy Ride II
Clinical Detatchment [Mulder starts to get anxious after being slipped a little blue pill and it’s up to Dr. Scully to help him figure it out and deal with the side effects.]
Clinical Detatchment II
Close Quarters [Prompt: Initially, the closet had seemed like a great place to hide. Mulder had no idea Scully was claustrophobic.]
A Collection of Constants [Of Mulder’s many obsessions, Scully’s freckles was one of them.]
False Hope in Sheep’s Clothing [What was really going through Scully’s mind during her moment with Eddie Van Bluhnt?]
Gym Defense [While doing required fitness tests at the gym, a man pulls some dirty tricks while sparring with Scully, and Mulder is not having it.]
Mixed Signals [Scully gets flowers from a secret admirer and that, combined with the way Mulder’s been acting, prompts her to be honest with herself.]
Nocturnal Emission [Scully watches Mulder have a wet dream]
Out of the Mouths of Babes [Someone on a case gets a crush on Scully and is very upfront about it. Mulder can’t help but get a little jealous.]
Unbearable Silence [How can she say she’s fine when there’s blood running down her face?]
Series
Countdown
Ten Times Mulder and Scully were intimate in their own unique way
Six Times Mulder saw Scully in her lingerie
Four Times Mulder and Scully got a little too close
Keep reading
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Gillian Anderson as Jean Milburn in Sex Education
Photography by Sam Taylor / Netflix
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Please never stop imagining mulder and scully with their two lil boys 🥺 I love them sooo much.
(i can’t believe i keep doing this)
“Close your eyes, sweetie.”
Arthur crossed little his arms and Scully poured a warm cupful of water over his head, his back. His bangs stuck to his forehead when wet like Mulder’s. She poured an extra cup over his goosebumped shoulders like always.
He drove a matchbox ambulance off his knee and into the bathwater, then stared at her accusingly. William had neglected to join them this evening, opting instead to shower, big boy as he was, though only last week the two of them had been splashing around the big tub in goggles.
“Come on,” Scully encouraged a smile, tickling under his chin. She remembered how it felt to be the abandoned little sibling. “We all have to read together later anyway.” Bilbo had crept into the dragon’s lair, after all. Surely William had not abandoned the quest for Lonely Mountain at this critical juncture.
Arthur pursed his lips thoughtfully. “Can we still do a bath when I’m six?��
Scully grabbed his fresh head and kissed it with a smack. “Yes.”
“Okay.” Arthur stood, holding her shoulders for support. His teeth chattered comically. “Can you put your robe on me?”
#ahhh this is so cute#arthur is such a mamas boy#i ❤️ him so much#and i love that scully gets to have this#shes such a good mum 🥺#au#o6666666
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good thing dana scully had a child who could appreciate his silly mama
she used to blow raspberries on william’s tummy until he was laughing so hard that he’d SQUEAL and flap his arms at the barest hint of her head lowering to do it again
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Gillian Anderson attends the “Sex Education” Season 2 World Premiere at Genesis Cinema on January 08, 2020 in London, England.
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Gillian Anderson and Olivia Colman attend the 77th Annual Golden Globe Awards at The Beverly Hilton Hotel on January 05, 2020 in Beverly Hills, California.
#🥺❤️#two of my favourite actors and humans#ga#queen olivia#oh and the back of this outfit! 👌🏼#and the 💎 necklace!
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Gillian Anderson attends the 77th Annual Golden Globe Awards held at the Beverly Hilton Hotel on January 5, 2020.
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I made a little drawing with the video process to start this new year. Nothing exceptional, I just enjoying draw something relaxing.🎨🎉😊 #MargoChanning #GillianAnderson #AllAboutEve
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