"That's all? Easy."
On day 22 of Fictober Mulder and Pendrell are having a drink when they spot Scully with another man. Hopefully it's a little fun and a little silly.
Prompt #29 - "That's all? Easy."
Find my other mediocre, mostly MSR fic here.
Pendrell slammed his glass down in frustration.
“Don’t take it so hard, buddy,” Mulder said.
“Oh, sure. Easy for you to say,” Pendrell grumbled.
Mulder was taken aback. “What does that mean?”
The scientist shot him an incredulous look. “You’re kidding. Mulder, you’re tall, traditionally handsome, mysterious,” he replied, eyeing Mulder and taking a long drink from his glass. “Women love that.”
Mulder chuckled and gave him a wry smile. “It doesn’t get you as far as you’d think, my friend,” he said, slapping Penrell on the back.
“Oh, come on.” Pendrell, tipsy and loose, rolled his eyes. “Women love a brooding man. Just look at Angel.” Off Mulder’s puzzled look, he added, “From Buffy.”
Mulder nodded, not quite understanding. He didn’t want to argue with his friend, who was clearly heartbroken at the coincidence of seeing Scully drinking with another man. It’s not what Mulder had expected to see either when he invited Pendrell out for drinks. Now they were commiserating their unspoken affection for a certain redhead.
“Besides, once Scully told me that ‘smart is sexy.’ She likes a brainy man,” Mulder replied, and hoped his friend would leave it at that.
They sat for a long moment, sipping their whiskeys.
“Yeah?” asked Pendrell.
Mulder nodded.
“Who is that guy, anyway?” Pendrell wondered.
“I don’t know. I’ve never seen him at the F.B.I. Maybe an old friend from Quantico,” Mulder offered.
“Boyfriend?”
“Maybe,” Mulder agreed. “Or date.”
They continued to watch Scully and her mystery man as they drank. They watched the man pay the bill. They watched him get up and put on his coat. They watched him give Scully a friendly peck on the cheek. And then, they watched him walk out of the bar, while Scully remained.
“Maybe not a boyfriend or date!” Pendrell said, excitedly.
“I guess not. Unless it didn’t go well,” suggested Mulder.
“As odd as it sounds, I would feel bad if that were the case.”
“Same,” Mulder agreed.
“You should go ask her out for a drink,” Pendrell said with determination.
“What?” Mulder asked.
“You think I don’t see the way you look at her, Mulder? Takes one to know one. You need to go over there and ask her to have a drink with you. And when you’re done, you ask her out for another drink this weekend.”
“That’s all? Easy,” Mulder scoffed, and leaned back in his seat.
“Your loss, Mulder. Because one of these days… One of these days…
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soap the type of dude that smiles like a damn idiot when you call him "pretty boy".
he's smiling idiot for the rest of the WEEK. he be skipping steps on his way to deployment lol 😂
especially if you play hard to get or don't even like him (as if that's possible)
ghost, his roomie, banging his head against the wall in annoyance, because soap is humming and skipping around like a buffoon.
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food for thought before i succumb to slumber… take a listen to this track for some fitting background music!
a little bit of the aftermath of what happens in gunsmoke, where nai and you are in your bed, tucked away during the brief minutes before midnight strikes. the night is still young for those at the nightclub, where most people are entering the height of their exhilaration.
but you and him had decided long ago to close it off with your stripped limbs tangled with another under a warmed duvet. the soft glow of a candlelight (nai insisted on a candle every session, claiming it’d amplify the mood) is the only illumination wafting throughout the room, your sleeping face just barely visible amidst the ink of darkness of the night.
you had gone to sleep some time ago. between the two of you, nai knew you’d often fall victim by the induced melatonin after entangling your beings together so intimately, the passion usually emitting much more of oxytocin in your case. nai often would watch as you fought the sandman so uselessly that it became a routine. he’d slowly watch the soft lashes atop your cheekbone flutter close and your lips forming a soft “o” that’d let out whispers of breaths with each fleeting second. nai knew you were fully unconscious when your head would fall forward ever so softly toward him—and he’d take this as you unconsciously wanting him closer to you.
he’s convinced it was your body’s way of telling him that you yearn for him the same way his does for you, that it longs to be in a proximity where there’s little to no space between you and him, where your chests touch together and beat as one.
a finger would also trace the crevices and curves of your body and face, studying them like a portrait of another human being. he’d recount the freckles adorned on your skin and face, perhaps leaving off where he started from last time. his finger would gently skim down the slope of your nose and he’d have to bite back a chuckle when you would twitch in similarity of a bunny out of reaction. ivory carved hands would examine the textured of markings and scars adorned on your skin, enjoying the softness and warmth radiating from each as he would wonder how they came to be (minus the one scar on your shoulder that he knew you got from falling down their mother’s apple tree when you were just children playing hide and seek. you cried endlessly that day and nai barely managed to cease it but quietly putting a hello kitty bandaid on it—courtesy of vash).
the duvet grows warmer the longer you and him are under it, but nai feels as if he’s being hugged more from your natural body warmth and sweet, somnolent scent. a mix of soap and the blueberry candle you light up every morning is what he can pick up, maybe some hints if citrus from your usual breakfast yuzu and honey tea, or something of the sort (he wonders if he’d be able to taste it on your lips if he was quick enough come morning).
fingers would dance over the valley of your back as if it were keys on a keyboard. they glide softly over it, feeling the dip and curve of it with his fingertips like he was playing a hypnagogic ballad on your spine. an adagietto sort of rhythm, perhaps, something that sings to you in your slumber.
nai is convinced love for another person is a feat impossible for his heart. but when you let out a soft call of his name in your sleep, as if you’re dreaming about him—perhaps even yearning, if he may be so bold—perhaps he can leave room for second guesses every once in a while.
he gets so entranced by your own unique beauty amidst the starlit night that nai doesn’t realize his eyelids heave heavier with each passing second…
… until you find yourself awake the next morning, showered in embers of sunlight and what seems to be a hand flat against your back.
its palm feels invitingly warm—almost as if it’s been brining in your heat for a while now.
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decrepit hag let out into the doodle page for a few minutes of recreational Once a Year Smile time
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Love at first sight
Tw: A few swear words (fucked up etc) but it's nothing intimate just a few curses people say when they're angry.
Love at first sight was something he didn't believe in, something he didn't want to believe in. Yet, life seemed to have other plans since he'd seen you.
He wouldn't deny how incredibly cliché it sounded if he ever dared say it out loud. But, he was so madly captivated by you that it was outright stupid.
He felt like a goddamn fool but he had to admit it, it was love at first fucking sight. The way you spoke, the way you looked, the way you acted, everything was just so pretty.
He didn't even notice it at first, the way you consumed his thoughts, living in his mind rent-free. His mind always seemed to wander off, memories of what you did today replaying in his mind. The things you told him, the things he overheard you saying to your friends, and even the songs you were humming. He remembered everything, no matter how much he wanted to focus elsewhere.
He wouldn't deny how annoying it was, the way you could entrance him so easily. His face would flush red whenever he saw you smile, elated when he got to sit anywhere near you, yet so incredibly nervous too.
It wasn't even funny looking at how oblivious you were, unknowingly making him act like a madman who's lovesick for you. He would say he hated it, yet how how could he?
After all, you were just so endearing that even looking at you from afar felt like a prize. And when he got to speak to you, there was no doubt that he was over the goddamn moon.
Still, his words would play so smoothly in his mind, a small cough before he spoke, mentally rehearsing what he was going to say. Yet, for some reason he was never satisfied because his words came out so idiotically. They were either too rough, mean, or simply rude. It was either him speaking arrogantly not that he meant to or he was stuttering mess, one who fumbled his words over and over again.
Yet, he would obviously never let you know that he fucked up his words, no matter how rude or dumb they sounded. He wouldn't admit how much of a loser he was, especially because you didn't seem to notice, smiling like usual. No, he wouldn't mess up a chance with you, but that didn't mean he wouldn't be a flustered mess after stuttering.
Still, he hoped you thought about him as he thought about you. He craved you so much, so mindlessly. He wanted you to be the same as him, for you to be down bad.
He'd never let you know, but he wanted your thoughts to be consumed by him, for you to constantly day-dream about him. He wanted him to be a distraction in your life, he wanted you to experience how annoying you were.
He wanted you to experience his love for you.
"Love at first sight"
Note: I'm sorry I haven't been posting often, i've just been so drained lately and schoolwork is taking up my time. It will take time to finish requests so I hope you all can be patient.
Still, feel free to request as I'll get back to it whenever I have the time and if it is something I'm willing to write. There is a post on my blog (I think it is pinned?) which goes into detail about the rules and fandoms I write about. If you have any questions regarding it, (want to request something but don't know if I follow the fandom/will write about it etc) just do it. Try asking it as a question first if you're unsure as I will get back to it, and if I say yes then I will work on the request (even though it will take time). Please feel free to leave comments on how I can improve or any grammatical mistakes (+ etc) I made throughout my writing. Any critical feedback is appreciated, as long as it is respectful.
Ps: Thank you for reading and please like/reblog/comment etc if you enjoyed!
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˚。⋆⋆˚ ⋆ ˚⋆ ˚。⋆⋆ ˚。⋆ ˚。⋆ ⋆ ˚。୨୧ ⋆ ˚。⋆ ⋆ ˚。⋆⋆ ˚。⋆ ⋆ ⋆˚。⋆ ⋆˚⋆
Let me help you with that, yeah? I know I know, stalking can be soo hard!! Being clumsy like that dosen’t help you mhm? Here let me teach you how to properly follow me around~
˚。⋆⋆˚ ⋆ ˚⋆ ˚。⋆⋆ ˚。⋆ ˚。⋆ ⋆ ˚。୨୧ ⋆ ˚。⋆ ⋆ ˚。⋆⋆ ˚。⋆ ⋆ ⋆˚。⋆ ⋆˚⋆
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THESE ANGLES HAVE RUINED AND REVIVED ME GOD SIR LEWIS HAMILTON THE MAN THAT YOU ARE
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❤️🩹
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help
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for a change i am feeling rather unwell about winnix today. wherever the train takes me and what and give up all this? ass idiots. love them to pieces
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he's an absolute idiot in love but ykw he's her idiot in love so it's fine
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I deserve to be selfish, I’m always last in everybody else’s world.
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not until i started reading restoration and post-restoration plays written by women like aphra behn and susanna centlivre did i fully understand romantic comedy on another level. the male love interests are just built better. like as much as i love a midsummer night's dream, if i were hermia i would never risk death or a forced life in a nunnery for lysander. no. hell no. he's just ken. but if i were miranda would i risk my thirty-thousand-pound inheritance to elope with sir george airy? if i were leticia would i contemplate leaving behind my country and my hated old husband i was tricked into marrying the second i learn that belmour is still alive, to live with his banished ass in exile? hm. let me thin—yes.
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If y’all see a fanfic where Miguel O’Hara is trans YOU SEND IT TO ME. OKAY??? Ok.
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RAVEN - "So we made a baby. Just her and me."
KURT - "But… but, you're both w--"
RAVEN - "Don't be pathetic."
[…]
KURT - "Ja… ja, I g-get that part, I'm sorry--I didn't mean to… I-it's just.. the science. The genetics. I don't--
RAVEN - "Pft. You think all I do is shift skin like a clever blue squid?"
[…]
KURT - "Raven… that's close to playing go--"
RAVEN - "Don't you dare. These creatures will pierce their ears, laser their retinas, and fit metronomes to their heart[.] But adjust a thread of RNA? Retool one molecule into another? Suddenly you're tampering with the divine. There's no magic in us, Spider-devil. There's only the machinery of monkeys."
--X-Men Blue: Origins #1 (Si Spurrier, 2023)
First off, Kurt sounds unimaginably stupid in the face of what is possibly the least shocking revelation of all time ("Kurt's parents were his real parents all along.") Raven spent centuries living as Irene's husband, and they were still together when he was born. And Raven can turn into a dolphin, so it's hardly surprising that her shape changing isn't just surface level. The only reason to ever doubt that Raven and Irene were his biological parents in the first place is that he was already told that wasn't true, by Raven. As for Raven, I presume she's meant to sound eloquently condescending, but she just comes off as stoned throughout this whole scene. No one talks like that.
More importantly, I'm sorry, but Si Spurrier just does not understand how Kurt's faith informs his character. He does not understand why the arguments that he has Kurt make are not arguments that Kurt would ever make. Kurt Wager is an educated man. He is a college graduate, he's been to seminary. He was a teacher and a resident at a STEM school. He is a citizen of the post-scarcity anarcho communist utopia island where dead people are cloned inside giant mangos and returned to life. He knows how babies are made. He would not argue against his own birth like a Christian fundamentalist trying to have an IVF clinic shut down.
I don't get how this keeps happening whenever he writes Kurt. They have Catholicism in England. They have Germans in England. But whenever it's time to invoke Kurt's religion, he writes him like, honestly, a really classist rendition of what people think small town Americans are like. Which is the wrong background entirely for this character.
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I can't just exist in peace I'm a disgusting freak I'm a monster and a pervert and I can never be clean and healthy and happy ever I was made to be disgusting and horrible and used and feel like filth forever that is what men want from me
ANTI KINK ANTI DDLG ANTI NSFW
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