It's her birthday, you know. Fifty-four years old and tucked into the back of a shiny yellow St. Louis cab, wearing a dress probably better suited to a thirty year old, with its slit up the side and its deep V of a neckline, but she looks so damn good in it, she doesn't care.

Post MSIV- I've done my best to fix things! ...They sleep wrapped in each other's arms, no space between, his hand warm and heavy on her belly, anchoring her each fitful time she wakes.

Post Plus One: Twenty-five years. You'd think they'd have mastered the steps by now. You'd think they'd have come to an agreement about ballroom or country or disco. You'd think a silly little thing like where you fall in queue shouldn't matter. And most especially, you'd think that knocking three times would be as simple as it gets.

Just a quickie in the guest room during Thanksgiving dinner at Bill's house. No biggie.

Seven years is a long time though, when you think about nights alone and Mulder there there there all the live-long day, with his face and his scent and his fuckingly absurd forearms.

"Yes, like this, God Mulder, like this." And tears prick his eyes, because like this is all he knows how to do.

She hums in response, realizing with sudden clarity this is it. IT. This is the rest of her life right here, smelling his sweat in a rented Ford Taurus, listening to him talk instead of shutting him up. Perpetually tired, perpetually horny. Eating Doritos and Twinkies then going to bed after, coming frantically against motel sheets while trying her hardest not to think.

It began about a month into the demise of their platonic partnership, thirty days into the new, very non-platonic, incarnation of it. His "oh my God" tally, that is.

College AU, part 5 in the "Bunsen Burner" series, sequel to "The Way You Say Flerovium" (available here on my author page). "I don't wanna miss you anymore. Your hands, your mouth, your…everything, Mulder, I miss your everything…" "Shhhh," you whisper, missing her everything, too.

Just some season 7 against-the-door PWP for your pleasure

From the prompt "describe a character's typical Sunday afternoon". Sunday afternoons are reserved, invitations engraved in the finest calligraphy. Or something cheesy like that.

Mildly Dom Mulder & Mildly Sub Scully play with a vibrator.

Written during a fic chat. The prompt was to write for 30 minutes from a trope off the list. I chose the trope "Catholics are great at giving head." As a Catholic, I honestly should probably go to hell right now. I wrote 75% of it while drunk during the chat, and the rest the next day while sober (honestly, the drunk part is probably the better of the two!).

Sequel to It's Just Pretend... Illust. here: storybycorey./post/163034477574/were-just-partners ... He's grinding himself against you, right where he knows you like it best. You grind right back, and your eyes close as you fall against his chest. "Just partners," you gasp, your lips sliding down his neck to suck at his clavicle, "Remember we're just partners..."

"God, Mulder," she gasps.  "Oh my god.  This is just pretend.  It's just pretend."  But then she grinds her ass right back against you, and that's not pretend at all.  Nosiree.

She's has thought about it.  Bloody hell, of course she's thought about it.  She'd like to challenge anyone to spend more than five minutes time in the presence of Stella Gibson and not think about it. WLW romance: Reed Smith and Stella Gibson

Spicy little smut biscuit based on the prompt "Scully laughing in bed".

His hand lands on her thigh with a heat that makes her gasp, and he says in a soft voice, "I'm just worried about you." She feels herself getting dizzy. It has nothing to do with the alcohol, and everything to do with unpartnerly touches on her couch close to midnight, after too many drinks and the most god-awful night she's had in probably a decade. OH, & SCULLY STRIPS FOR MULDER

She wraps herself tightly in her arms. He's reminded of a caterpillar bound in its cocoon, except Scully has never been a caterpillar. She's always been a butterfly. Butterflies belong in the sunlight;they can't survive buried beneath the dirt with the grubs. There's a beautiful illustration that was done for this story here: storybycorey dot tumblr dot com/post/157356900534/

The title pretty much says it all!

Mulder slays a dragon. Or something like that. pre-revival

I was asked to write a fic based on a drawing by megdoesart (Tumblr)/xfdoodles (Instagram). It depicts Mulder and Scully cuddling on his couch with a masking tape heart in his window. To see the image, you can look on my Tumblr page (storybycorey) under the "My Fanfic" tab. Timeline: Post Per Manum Angst

College AU, part 4 in the "Bunsen Burner" series, sequel to "Your Last First Time" (available here on my author page). You've never let a boy do this, never entrusted your body to another person the way you've done with him.

A post The Truth on-the-run fic, companion to "Three Words Lighter".

In response to the prompt "Things you said in our vows". Post Amor Fati fic.

From the "Things you said prompts list": 10) things you said that made me feel like shit. Post "the Truth" fic. Companion piece to "Sunburn".

This is a multi-tasking fic. It covers an anonymous request for the "Things you didn't say at all" prompt, as well as the contest qualifications for @txf-fic-chicks birthday contest, which were: birthday, cake, London, and red.

a drabble from the prompt "things you said before you kissed me"

College AU, sequel to "You'll Forever Be in Debt to a Bunsen Burner" and "So Much Better Than a Cherry Gumdrop" (both here on ). "I want you to be the one." You tell her "okay" and wonder what you possibly could have done in your sorry-ass life to deserve this.

College AU, sequel to "You'll Forever Be in Debt to a Bunsen Burner". The boy with the nose-that's-too-large-for-his-face and the lips-that-make-you-a-little-dizzy lingers in your mind like an unsolved problem.

College AU: She's only a freshman and you a senior, and sometimes you feel almost dirty lusting after someone so much younger. But then her laugh trickles across the lawn in front of the library, and her tongue runs along her lips, and you need to hold a book in front of your pants for the next twenty minutes. It's lucky you always have a few to spare.

After a steamy phone call and an even steamier encounter at an Italian restaurant, how will Mulder and Scully finally end their evening? The final installment in the Today series. You really should read Today and Tonight first!

How will Mulder and Scully deal in the aftermath of the "intriguing" phone conversation they shared earlier today? Sequel to my fic "Today". You really should read that one first!

When things don't go quite as planned at the infertility clinic, Mulder requires Scully's "auditory" assistance in order to help him make another donation. Yeah, it's phone sex, baby. Per Manum phone sex. With a little angst on the side, just the way I like it.

Mother's Day fic: It had been her last chance. Her last chance to make this day in May actually mean something. Something besides heartache. Timeline: couple months POST Per Manum, but BEFORE Mulder's abduction- hey, if CC isn't going to give us an accurate timeline, I'm gonna play fast and loose with the one we've got

I was challenged to write a fic that was strictly sex- no storyline at all. Umm, yeah, so there you have it- 3000 words of smut.

It had gotten to the point where single words were no longer enough. A few words here, a few words there, phrases parceled out only every few weeks were driving him slowly mad. He wanted entire paragraphs. He wanted fucking chapters of her. She promised to be the most amazing thing he'd ever read.

"I'm a woman, Mulder, a flesh-and-blood woman, and I need someone to see me that way," she blinks to keep the tears from flowing, looking to the ceiling, the floor, anywhere but to his face. "You're wrong, Scully. You're so wrong. I see you as a woman, Scully. I see you so much as a goddamn woman, it devastates me. You take my fucking breath away."

ficlet based on the prompt "I almost lost you"

Ficlet based on the prompt "Just once."

1999: He pines for her so staggeringly at times, he can hardly bear it. The dull ache deep in his chest has become a part of him, part of his makeup, part of his existence. 2015: He can hardly bear it. The apathy. The numbness. The leaden throb of despondency has become a part of him, part of his makeup, part of his existence.

Ficlet based on the prompt: "You lied to me". Post-Requiem.

(Just a bit of drabble about their first night)

Post Babylon porch sex. Need I say more?

Post Home Again "Oh God," she breathes, suddenly overwhelmed with her skin slicked against his own, so familiar, so warm, so solid, so not a cold, damp log with ashes at their feet.

It's Sunday, & the state of her purse is a brutal reflection of her preceding week. One may even see a receipt peeking from a pocket, a wrapper falling from an open zipper. If she were more aware of such things, she would realize that her own emotions are slipping through the cracks as well, becoming more visible, despite her ever-so-carefully-constructed façade. TL: post Per Manum

She's convinced herself that working together again is possible. That it's not only possible, it's healthy. A new start, a rebirth, the next fork in their meandering path of a relationship. They've come full circle, from colleagues to friends to lovers, and now back again.

She can't accept that this is their end. She needs there to be more. She needs to fit herself into that cove beneath his chin, she needs to inhale him until she's drunk off his scent. This is a companion piece to my story, "She Reverberates Through Him," although could also stand alone.

Her fingertips tap against his psyche in a way he has a hard time fathoming. And an even harder time erasing. Written for XF Writing Challenge Prompt: Sound Timeline: Post-breakup, pre-revival

Somehow, though it goes against the very laws of nature, their relationship grows in the darkness; it thrives there. It is under the blanket of night that their roots burrow beneath the earth and solidify. It is through the haze that their eyes see each other most clearly. And it is behind darkened curtains that their bodies are drawn together for the first time. TL: Season 7

Written for the XFwritingchallenge Prompt: Touch I'm not sure that he even realizes it, realizes he's speaking words, phrases, and paragraphs with just the slightest brush of his thumb, the smallest glance of his hand. And I don't think he realizes how desperately I yearn for more.

In the background, the fair maiden screams and the lizard monster lunges, but they barely notice, for in the space between her legs, there is only black leather, trailing fingertips, and a humidity that's drawing him closer and closer to the answers of the universe. Written for the X Files Writing Challenge, Prompt: Favorite Things Time Period: Post IWTB, Pre-Revival, with a hea

"Knowing the distance that separates us, how many miles are between us, those things are solid. I can close my fist around those numbers so that I don't drift away, so that I don't dissolve..." Written for the XF Writing Challenge, theme: Distance Timeline: during original run- season 6 or season 7 Rating: PG-13/R nothing too graphic, but nothing for the kiddos either

Saying "hello" to something new means saying "goodbye" to what has existed between them for years. And they don't know whether or not they're ready for that. Written for the xfwritingchallenge. Theme: "Hello"

Written for the Dirty/Clean X Files writing challenge by @leiascully. Mulder feels dirty. Scully helps him feel clean.

As Scully deals with an emotionally-charged case, Mulder recalls each of the times he's seen her cry. Angst ensues, then smut ensues thereafter.

Choices. Decisions. Fate. I've made my choice- I choose Mulder. I think I chose Mulder long ago, but my journey of the last few days has confirmed it for me. And the feel of his body against my own, his breath whispering through my hair, the lingering warmth from his lips upon my neck, all make me believe that Mulder has chosen me as well.

There is always an energy between Mulder and me, and depending upon the circumstances, it ebbs and flows accordingly. But tonight, it has reached new heights- it's crackling and popping and radiating- and is so tangible I feel as though I could reach out and touch the glowing blue current that connects us.