#y'all I am NERVOUS

[outoutdamnspark]

Drops of Rain on Foggy Glass (pt.1)

Written for the lovely @peachsodama as part of the SlasherMas!AU~

Pt. 1: Emmet

Pt. 2: Ingo (coming soon)

(So uh. This is the first smut I’ve written in a long, long time, and one of only like, three that I’ve ever put up anywhere for people to read. Please be gentle.)

CW: passionate sex with an undead slasher “villain”

===

Surprisingly, Emmet is the gentler one.

Your body trembles as he presses inside, almost too big for you to adjust to; he has to pause several times to make sure he doesn’t hurt you while you whine and squirm against him, struggling to take him in. 

Emmet kisses away the tears that gather on your lashes, whispering praises, telling you how well you’re doing, how pretty, how cute, how small. You nearly come just from that, and from the feeling of him finally bottoming out. 

He waits, braced above you on his elbows, as you slowly grow used to the way he’s stretching you open. His tongue darts out to swipe across your lower lip, tasting the shaky groan that escapes from behind your teeth, and you see him clench his jaw to bite back a sound of his own. 

Eventually you nod, and he slides himself out of you. The glide makes you gasp, but the loss of him follows it up with a whimper - only to become a loud, sharp cry as he grabs at your waist and yanks you down, driving you further onto his length. 

He leans down then, and you feel the skin of your shoulder break as he sinks his teeth in with a possessive growl. 

Emmet takes you rough and slow on the ground, pinning you against the unfolded sleeping bag beneath you, rolling his hips to end with a snap - a deliberate thrust deep inside of you. The drag and push of his shaft against your core sends you reeling, nerves sparking with every aftershock of pleasure. He keeps his rhythm steady and doesn’t let up, doesn’t pause, doesn’t waver, and it gives you no time to come up for air before the next wave of bliss pulls you right back under. 

You writhe under his much larger form, your voice catching on a choked, wordless moan as he wraps his arms around you to clutch you against his cold, silent chest. 

You know he’s siphoning your warmth, pressing your pounding heartbeat against where his should be; you are his new heart now, the bright spot of sunlit radiance to replace the one he can never feel again. He whispers words of devotion into your ear with his faint, echoey voice - tells you how good you feel around him, how sweet you taste, how much he loves the way you sound as you moan his name. He’ll cherish you, his sunlight, the clear sky to his ever-rain, and he shows you just how much with another deep, deep roll of his hips. 

You gasp again as he grinds against a place inside you that makes your entire body light up like stars; the sound becomes a quiet keening as he pistons into the spot again, and then again. You rake your fingers across his back, your hips bucking wildly up to meet his own as he pulls you closer and closer to your end. He reaches down and hooks an arm beneath your knee, splays his frigid fingers over the skin of your thigh. You take the hint and wrap your legs around his waist, causing each of his thrusts to press him against the oh-so-sensitive coil of nerves just above your entrance. You sob, and he slides his other hand under your head, gently cradling it, and lifts you carefully to slot his lips over yours. 

The kiss is sweet, loving, warmer than it has any right to be with the chill it leaves across your skin, and more tender than the roll and snap of his body into yours should dictate it be. It’s a strange juxtaposition, to be fucked with such brutal precision while your spectral lover presses such worshipful kisses to your lips, your cheek, your forehead. 

He doesn’t say “I love you” as he drives his hips once more into you, so beautifully that you arch against him with a muffled scream, but you can feel the words in the way he mouths at your jaw, just below your ear. You can just make out the syllables he ghosts across your throat, hear the hitching sigh that follows. 

Everything feels too hot, coiled too tight, too good, too much. You whine desperately, try to tell him that you’re close, but he buries himself up to the hilt and grinds harder into the spot that leaves your whole body burning. 

You shudder as the dam bursts and you’re sent careening over the edge. The orgasm he’s been slowly dragging you towards is enough to cover your vision in hazy black - an eternity of him pulling you closer and closer without pause finally coming to fruition with an almost violent climax. You all but shriek as you clamp down around him, body trying to pull him in as deep as he’ll go.

But he doesn’t let you off so easily. 

Even before your walls finish clenching around his length, he’s hauling you up by the hips and sitting back onto his knees. You whimper at the loss of his weight on top of you, but as he secures your legs over his forearms and rams back into you with that same maddeningly steady pace, the sound becomes a choking cry. 

He presses forward, leaning over you with your body nearly folded in half, and breathes out a sigh of ecstasy at the way you screw your eyes shut against the overstimulation.

He whispers again and you’re so far gone that you can’t really understand him - but the way he reaches down to gently cup your face and traces the pad of his thumb over your cheek where tears have begun to spill over, tells you that the words you cannot fathom are laced with affection and praise. You grasp his forearms with trembling hands and knead the water-kissed skin beneath them in time with every thrust.

His other hand - the one colored like storm clouds and shattered skies, smooths its way up your shaking thigh and curls around it to brush chilled fingers along your most sensitive place. 

“Come for me, beautiful,” he rasps, leaning down to kiss you once more. 

You do, and as you scream against his lips and he drinks the sound like a dead man drowning, you feel him come undone inside you.

His release is cold, like the caress of wind in a rainstorm, and you shudder at the feel of it filling your heated core. His movements stutter, rhythm lost; you can feel the breath he does not need as it quickens almost desperately across your skin while he kisses you. He whimpers quietly, lips parting to wind his tongue with yours in that vulnerable moment when lovers exist as one, bodies flush and hearts full. 

(That his no longer beats is irrelevant; he has never felt more alive than when you share with him your warmth.)

But he does not tell you so, so you are left to feel it in the way he nuzzles against your cheek as he slowly breaks the kiss and reluctantly leans away. 

You reach for him. 

He takes your hands and kisses them - the lights of his shadowed eyes blink out for a moment, as if he’s closed them in reverence. 

Then, gently, so gently, he pulls out of you, leaving a trail of ethereal, glowing white in his wake. He groans at the sight and rubs the pad of his thumb up the length of your entrance, gathering up what he can to press back inside of you. 

“Em…” you whimper, hands reaching for him again. 

He laughs. The sound is light - the lightest sound you’ve ever heard him make; almost silent in its faintness, a wavering, shimmering, wispy chuckle filled with an unmistakable tint of joy. 

You spend the rest of the night wrapped up in chilly arms, held snugly to a chest that no longer rises and falls with breath, sated and happy and so very, very loved.

[moonlight-prose]

going for a job interview today. wish me luck. 😬

[verfound]

Finding it absolutely hilarious that maybe a week before the release I was seeing this news article freaking out because "Beetlejuice and Lydia?! Together?! Can you believe some people support this?! Gross!!!!"

And now we have an entire movie proving he's never stopped pining for her, official accounts toting it as a love story, and Winona Ryder - Lydia Deetz herself - saying she's Team Beetlebabes all the way.

She kept the freakin' cake topper.

It's a good day for some vindication 😂

[noa-nightingale]

Okay I... am maybe not the best person to talk about this but I have serious problems with Jessie Gender's new video, When Your Favorite Creator Turns Out to Be Zionist.

Let me first say - I like Jessie Gender. I watched many of her videos and I think she has a lot of very interesting, moving, important things to say about topics like queerness, humanity and such.

But this video just... irked me.

I do not like how she talks about Zionists and Zionism. I have seen how the word Zionist is used against Jewish people. I am not the best person to put it into words but I do not like it when it is used as an insult or implied to be inherently a bad thing.

She seems to use it to mean "person who supports Israel's actions" (implied to support what she calls a genocide throughout the video) and that... is not right.

There are other issues I have as well with the video, like comparing the I/P situation to the Holocaust. There are more things but I am honestly not qualified to speak on them.

Before someone accused me of "supporting a genocide" - I do not. I wish for peace and safety for Palestinians AND Israelis. (And since I have been called a Zionist in the past - I do not consider myself to be one.)

I am just generally disappointed by a creator I like tbh.

I don't think I got my thoughts across very well. I'll be on the lookout for posts made by Jewish people about this video.

[alexusonfire]

For The Heart is An Organ of Fire

Brienne of Tarth x f!Reader

Smutember Prompt: Over the Clothes

A/n: Week two of Smutember! This one is definitely more fluffy than last week 🤣 You can find @daydream-cement's fic here!

Brienne moaned quietly into your mouth, her arm wrapping itself tighter around you to bring you closer. You'd been lazily draped half-over her for the better part of an hour, gently exploring her mouth with your own. Nearly a week apart had the two of you craving some intimacy, and after you'd both slipped into your night clothes you'd eagerly crawled into eachother's embrace.

"I've missed you, love" Brienne whispered as she stroked your cheek with her knuckles. Your heart swelled when you met Brienne's gaze, so sweet, so vulnerable. You were sure no one had ever had the privilege to witness this side of her, and it always made you feel incredibly honored that she allowed you to do so.

"I missed you too. Must you always be gone for so long?"

Brienne chuckled and slowly ran her fingertips down your arm, gooseflesh rising in its wake. Instead of uttering the teasing retort building on her tongue, she decided to put it to better use and cupped the back of your neck to bring your lips back down to hers, a small smile blooming on her face at your pleased hum.

Night began to creep its way into the room, the fire slowly dimming to embers. You could only just make out the edges of Brienne's features; the high cheekbones, the soft blonde hair framing her forehead. Filled with yearn for the woman you loved, you pressed a tender kiss to the column of her neck, then another, and another, so enraptured by her soft skin you barely noticed the way Brienne began to squirm.

"That's... I like that." she said, her voice slightly gruffer than before. You looked up at her, her cerulean blues still somehow managing to pierce just enough through the darkness for you to see her blown pupils. At some point Brienne had pressed her hips into your thigh (or you had pressed your thigh into her hips, you couldn't be quite sure which), and the feeling of her body pressed against yours so intimately gave you an idea.

"Brienne... I know we haven't... done the deed, so to speak, and I don't think either of us are ready for it just yet... but, may I... may we try something?"

Your hand clutched Brienne's sleep shirt, a small bout of nerves overtaking you as she contemplated her answer. Slowly, she shook her head yes, and you whispered a soft "thank you" before shifting yourself to press your leg firmer between hers. Lips met skin again as you traced beneath her jaw, nosing, niping, loving. The small whimpers Brienne allowed herself spurred you on, and you brought your hand down to her hip to encourage movement. At first she stuttered, unsure of what you were asking, but when you flexed your thigh and warmth shot up her sides, it clicked. Hesitant at first, she managed to get herself into a rhythm, and within minutes she was panting, slightly overwhelmed with the new sensations.

"Are you doing alright?" you asked, only briefly stopping your ministrations to await an answer.

"Yes, I'm- please don't stop."

This was one of the rare times she sounded assured of herself when it came to bedroom pursuits, and you grinned as you bit down on her neck, sinking your teeth in just a bit harder. She gasped as you sucked little love bruises onto her collarbones, already excited at the prospect of admiring them in the morning. Brienne's hips increased in their pacing, rocking harder into you, and she clutched your shoulders to steady herself as the coil in her lower abdomen tightened; without warning, she cried out into the room and clamped her legs shut around yours, the tremble of them making your own cunt flutter with heat. You held her close through the aftershocks, petting her hair and kissing her cheeks as she tried to even out her breathing.

"Well done, my love." you praised when she finally softened beneath you. Brienne let out a small keen, and you stored her reaction away for a later time. For now, you pulled back the blanket and rised to tend to the fire, aware that Brienne was watching your every move. Padding back to the bed, you made to pull her into you for sleep when her hand on your chest stopped you.

"... may I return the favor, my lady?"

Your smile alone could have brightened the whole room, damn the fire that you had just stoked; she only called you "my lady" in moments of deep adoration, like the very first time she asked to court you. With a nod of your head, Brienne instead pulled you to her and placed reverent kisses to your lips, determined to do just that.

--

@weemssapphic @rosieathena @renravens @ness029 @saturnnnnl @aemilia19 @milciak

[thefatedthoughtofyou]

So there's a 60s song. One of my favorites. I have several, but let's not focus on that. Its called Give Him A Great Big Kiss by The Shangri-Las, and everytime i hear it, it makes me think of steddie.

More so of Steve finding the song, probably in his mom's old record case. And he's always loved the song. But then he met Eddie. And it's meaning changed. His thoughts constantly drifting to Eddie when he hears it. And he starts singing it all goofy and love sick when he hears it now.

He and Robin work at a bar downtown, Eddie works at the mechanic shop around the corner. He comes in for early lunch a lot, and that's how they meet. They get along great. All of them do. Robin loves him to death. As far as she's concerned she gained another soulmate along side Steve. One who blabbers like her and they rant at each other constantly, Steve watching them fondly.

But he's also got it bad for Eddie. Obviously. And Robin knows this. Knows about the song. And the way Steve sings it all gooey and adoring and lost in thought.

After a few plays of the song she sings along with him, they duet they're hearts out when it comes on and the bar is empty. Usually right before they open. Both of them using mops, or bottles, or dishrags as microphones as they sing.

Eddie is pining too. He's got it so bad for Steve that he finds it hard to look at him sometimes. And Robin, drukenly one night, after Steve had fallen alseep in his chair beside the pool, had told Eddie to shoot his shot. That he'd sink it, or get a home run, or a touchdown, or some other sports term that neither of them really understood.

But everytime Eddie has tried to make a move, something comes up. They get interrupted. Every. Single. Time. Eddie had decided fate was against them and almost given up hope.

He'd had a plan today. Come to the bar for lunch before they opened, ask him, whether Robin was there or not. She'd been making it a point to not speak to them if it looked like they were talking about something important. Eddie knew it was pity for him. Was endlessly greatful.

But that was how he ended up at the bar. Ducking in the side entrance they left open for him. And he's about to burst in like normal, all loud enthusiasm to see his friends, but he hears Steve groaning about something, hears Robin laughing, hears his name, and it stops him, his hand pressed gently to the door.

"Uuugghhh my god. I'm useless. I was so good at this in school. I could ask anyone out. Like it was nothing." Steve grumbles, Eddie's stomach flutters, he pushed the door open, just a crack, can only see Robin where she's perched on the bar top, legs crossed.

"Maybe that's the problem." She shrugs, Eddie sees her drop her hand to the left, he bites his lip and carefully pushes the door a bit further. He has to stifle a laugh when he sees Steve, looking forlorn, head dropped onto the bar, Robin's hand petting at his hair absent-mindedly. He turns his head to look up at her and Eddie moves to the side a bit, hoping Steve doesn't notice him.

"Huh?" He huffs, glares up at her. She pats the side of his face a couple times and takes her hand back.

"You said you did it like it was nothing. Maybe this isn't nothing? With Eddie, I mean. Maybe it's... bigger. Better!" Her hands move in a flurry in front of her as she talks, Steve ducks away from them as he sits up on the stool properly.

"Better. ...elaborate?" He says slowly, his eyes on the ceiling, his face all screwed up the way Eddie loves, his concentration face, it would be Eddie's downfall one day.

Robin nods enthusiastically, plops her feet down onto the stool next to Steve.

"Well does it feel different? With Eddie? Than it did with all those other people?" She asks, looking down at him with an impossibly fond look.

Eddie watches Steve bite his lip, think for a long moment, his hand moves absent-mindedly to his stomach. Eddie mirrors him, his stomach fluttering as he watches. Feeling a bit guilty, but he can't look away. He can't move. He has to keep listening. Needs the courage, he tells himself. Steve nods.

"Yeah it does. It's different. He's different." Steve says, and he's got this dopey look on his face that Eddie's never seen. Robin nods, slides down off the bar, her butt replacing her feet as she holds Steve's knees tightly.

"Different then what? Then who?" Robin promtps, giving him a gentle squeeze.

"Different then everyone." Steve breathes it like a prayer and then immediately shoves his face into his hands with a groan as Robin makes a high pitched noise in her throat.

"You know what this needs don't you?" She asks, excitement coursing through her now. She's on her feet before Steve answers, bouncing out of veiw, toward the jukebox in the corner. Steve groans again and turns to follower her.

"Alcohol?" He asks, voice dry. Eddie hears Robin snort.

"Maybe after work. But right now what we need, is.... drum roll please." She draws out the please. Eddie watches Steve sit on the stool, watching her. He gives her nothing.

"I said drum roll!!" She shouts, and Steve grins, tapping his hands on the stool between his legs.

"Theeeeeee Eddie song!" She sings, and Eddie faintly hears the click of the Jukebox before a womans voice fills the air. Music kicking in after the first few words, Steve already bobbing along. Eddie's heart stutters in his chest. He knows this song. Has heard Steve humming it a few times. It's not a bad song. Eddie's open to things.

He watches Robin dance back into view as Steve starts mouthing the words, pretending to fight against it. But all Eddie can hear are the lyrics, as Steve really starts to get into it, taking Robin's hand and letting her pull him off his seat.

"Thick wavy hair. A little too long. All day loooong, he's singin his song." Steve starts to sway, and Eddie can't do it, they're moving out of view and he needs to see this. He ducks through the door quietly and sinks back to the back corner silently, both of them lost in the song as they dance. Robin chiming in now.

"Well, what color are his eyes?" She asks Steve, perfectly in sync with the song, they've clearly done this... a lot. Steve shrugs and counters,

"I don't know. He's always wearing shades." He sighs wistfully.

"Is he tall?" Robin asks, climbing back onto the bar, laying on her stomach, feet kicked up in the air.

"Well, I've got to look up." Steve stays out on the dining floor, dancing between the tables, swaying his hips.

"Yeah? Well I hear he's bad." Robin scrunches her face as she sings.

"Hmm. He's good bad. But he's not evil." Steve furrow his brow, 'thinking'.

"Tell me more. Tell me more." Robin sings, kicking her feet to the beat, chin in her hands as she grins at Steve. He does a fancy twirl and falls into a chair, dreamy look on his face as he continues.

"Big bulky sweaters, to match his eyes. Dirty fingernails, oh boy what a prize." He swoons a little, his head resting on his chin for a moment before he spins up out of the chair again, dancing towards Robin as he sings through the chorus again.

Eddie's breathing is fast now, his palms sweating as he watches and listenes to Steve sing about kissing him in the street, and loving and caring for him. Wanting to always be there for him. Eddie doesn't miss how fond he looks.

He's looked fond this entire time. Fond and... something else. Eddie's not sure there's a word for it. But he thinks 'longing' might be close. He wipes his palms on his grease stained jeans and moves foward, slowly, not wanting to draw attention, but he can't stay put any longer. Robin chimes in again, rolling onto her back dramatically, arms crossed over her chest.

"Is he a good dancer?"

"What do you mean is a good dancer?" Steve laughs into the line and Eddie's stomach flutters, he could watch Steve like this forever.

"Well how does he dance?" Robin sings, sitting up and facing Steve as he closes in on the stool in front of her, places his hands on it and practically sighs the last line.

"Close. Very, very, close."

The music fades. Robin singing the last of the 'oohs' gently as it does, both her and Steve smiling at each other. Eddie takes this moment to bump into a chair, sending it screeching a few inches across the floor, both of them flailing as they turn to look at him.

"Oh my god!" Robin yells, her hands clamping over her mouth. Steve is frozen as she looks between him and Eddie. Eddie raises one hand from his thigh, wobbles his hand in an awkward wave.

"Uhh... hey." He says, brilliantly. Steve's face is getting redder and redder as he stands there, and Eddie can see him tensing. About to bolt.

So he does something he's never been very good at. For Steve. He finds his bravery and walks right up to Steve, plants himself in front of him, hands landing on his shoulders harder than he meant too, but Steve doesn't flinch.

"Hey." Eddie breathes, his thumbs soothing over Steve's collarbones.

"You already said that." Steve says flatly, he's still staring at Eddie. Eddie's pretty sure he hasn't blinked since he hit the chair.

"Right. Yeah. Lemme try somethin else then." Eddie breathes, ducks forward, presses his lips gently to Steve's, feels Steve gasp against his lips and then feels his hands clamp down on his hips, hard.

It's a small kiss. Just a press of lips really, warm, and sweet, and gentle. But when Eddie pulls back, they're both breathless. Eddie vaguely hears Robin make that happy high pitched noise again, and clapping. And then any sounds from her are drowned out by the next song that clicks on, You Send Me by Sam Cooke. Eddie loves this song.

"You wanna dance?" He asks, brushes his nose against Steve's cheek, laughs when Steve follows him, trying to catch his lips again.

"I dunno. Are you a good dancer?" Steve asks, smirking at Eddie, though his eyes are shining and soft.

"What do you mean am I good dancer?" Eddie asks, feigning offense.

"Well... how do you dance?" Steve recites, sounding almost shy.

Eddie bites his lip, wraps his arm around Steve's waist, and pulls him tightly to his chest as he turns him further onto the dance floor, guiding them between tables with an out of character grace.

"Close. Very, very, close." Eddie breathes, his heart fluttering as Steve throws his head back and laughs, his arms circling Eddie's neck as they sway together, holding each other close as the music plays on.

[rottmnt-residuum]

Do u mind people asking u stuff??? Like theories about the story

please do send me theories i love to see them! Especially when they get things right!!!

[stormysapphic]

TOP SURGERY MONDAY

[mudandmire]

Ghost

Azriel made a deal with the Mother ten years ago: his service in return for Eris's life. Azriel leaves no impression on the world anymore, no footprints or sounds. The only thing he leaves behind are rivers - endless erosions of blood through the stone he bore the day Eris died. His obedience, in return for Eris's survival. There is no other way.

Yet the decade passes, and The Autumn Court is falling into turmoil. In the midst of the heatwave drying out their crops, trying to discover who wants him dead, and delicately balancing his bargain with the Night Court and the unpredictability of his volatile father - Eris finds an even greater secret. One he probably wasn't ever supposed to know.

AH first chapter is here!! I'm ✨terrified✨ This is for all the lovelies who inspired me, but also those who were so so kind and liked my little pet project. I have little experience being in such a forward, loving community, where every praise you have is shared. I adore it, I'm working to be more like y'all because there's nothing like kindness shared ❤️

I have no idea what I'm doing 🫠. I am Completely Obsessed with this idea - it's taken over all my thoughts at work, too, so that's fun. Hope you enjoy a lil snippet from the chapter :D

...

The woods hang their breath; fog in the trees, swirling through the limbs of pines. The flurry comes down faster collecting in the strands of Eris's hair and in his sooty eyelashes.

At his side, his blade weighs heavy. The two males continue to talk over the body sprawled in the snow. Their voices ring from far away, lost to the near silence the forest has collected around them in this little clearing.

Azriel makes to take a step toward Eris, but jerks back like a string being pulled taut. He shifts to right the strain, casting a narrow-eyed glance to the barren branches, as if something sits there—watching.

"Would you stop running your mouth and get the knife?" The second male points a long, pale finger to the bag in the snow, having been shucked off in relief when they made it to the clearing.

The knuckles on his fingers are raw, a ruddy red color from dragging a body through the cold. Azriel's shadows follow his gaze, the rage filtered through them that he has no allowance to feel. He watches him; finds the aspects of his face and the clothes he wears and documents it. The male isn't all that impressive, and apart from having the same pointed ears high fae have, he would've easily mistaken him for a lower rank: a farmer, perhaps.

White flakes catch on the dark, muddy brown strands of the fae's hair. He brushes at his runny nose as his beady, dark eyes scan over the clearing.

They sweep over where Azriel is standing, and continue on.

"Got it!" The second male shouts, echoing through the still silent woods. Not a bird calls back. Not a single scamper of little paws through the crunch of snow and twigs answers.

Foolish fae, they should know better than to trust a silent wood. Azriel thinks to himself, the shadows chittering in agreement.

The first male rubs his hands together, the friction faint, his breath pooling like great clouds in front of his narrow face. "Fucking finally." He says, and pulls out a crumpled, awkwardly folded piece of paper from his pocket. "Now, give it here."

He passes the knife over. An unassuming silver shine that catches the watery light, it's hilt wrapped in worn leather. It looks like it would be lost in an armory and never found again.

Azriel feels the muscles along his shoulders tense, his legs stiffening in the snow as if being rooted to the earth. He's much more comfortable with the knife in the second males hand—a little bit awkward, unaware of consequences tied to the blade like a red ribbon.

The shadows go shrill, piercing through the muffled drone of Azriel's thoughts. They bring forth the accompanying jolt of his heart—the twist deep in his stomach as he catches the mad glint in the males eyes as he holds the knife aloft.

"Ten thousand gold marks, Lachlan." He whispers, nearly to himself. There's a sheen on his thin, pale lips from how many times he's licked at them. "And we've got it."

A smile, crooked and strangely excited, grows on Lachlan's face.

Foolish, the shadows whisper, delighting in the wait just as much as Azriel is. Unwise creatures—their spilt blood will be refreshing.

The second male pauses, just enough for Azriel to catch it and take it as his cue.

…

Tag list -

@c-starstuff-man0 @futurehunt @chunkypossum @somnolentsoul

(please please lemme know if I missed you or you want off or if I did it wrong fanks :])

[television-overload]

of our own making

(an X-Files fanfic)

Chapter 33/34 - end call

[Read on AO3]

Mulder isn’t sure how long he's out for, but he knows it can’t have been more than an hour or two before something wakes him from his dreamless slumber. He blinks a few times at the striped pattern on the ceiling from the street lights shining through the blinds, and suddenly remembers where he is.

The sound he hears is the familiar cry of Madeline, just the beginnings of it, but he knows if it goes unanswered for much longer, she will be harder to console. He gets to his feet, running his hands over his tired face as he crosses from his room into the hall.

He only hesitates a second before pushing open the door to Scully’s room, peeking his head inside. She’s sitting up in bed, looking disoriented and adorable, clearly only having woken up a moment ago as well.

“Stay there,” he says quietly, accidentally startling her with his presence. “I can get her this time, hon.”

He’s not sure where that endearment came from, exactly, but he can blame it on the lack of sleep later if she asks. He makes his way over to the bassinet, peering over the edge at the baby inside.

“Diaper change,” he informs Scully, lifting Maddie out and taking her over to the changing table next to the dresser. By the time he gets her cleaned and changed, Scully is passed out again on her side, her hair fanning out over the pillow with a bit of drool escaping her lips. He chuckles softly, taking Maddie with him as he goes out to the kitchen to prepare some formula for her.

He returns and takes a seat in the rocking chair, moving Scully’s robe aside so he can sit down in it while he feeds the baby. As much as he usually dislikes being kept awake in the middle of the night, this isn’t so bad. Maybe in a few weeks he’ll be tired of it, but for now, it affords him the opportunity to see Scully in a way he doesn’t often get to. And getting to be a father? Just the cherry on top.

Maddie falls asleep again before she can finish the bottle, which means she’ll almost certainly be up in another hour or so wanting more. Resigned to this fact, Mulder lifts his elbow up and places a kiss on her sweet-smelling forehead. Maybe it’s too early to say, but this little creature can do no wrong in his eyes. Even if she keeps them up all night, he’ll never forget what it took to get here. This is what they’d wanted, him and Scully, and all the highs and lows that come with it.

Careful not to jostle her too much, he settles her back down in the bassinet and puts the cap back on the bottle. It’ll need to go in the fridge until the next feeding, probably. He walks over to the door, placing a hand on the door handle.

“Where are you going?” Scully slurs, her eyes half-lidded beneath furrowed eyebrows. She lifts herself onto her left elbow, a movement that—in her semi-conscious state—takes a lot more effort than usual.

Mulder holds up the half-filled bottle of formula and gives it a little shake. “Putting this away,” he answers in a hushed tone.

“Are you coming back?” she asks.

He stares at her, wondering if she’s even aware of what she’s saying, or if she’s just talking in her sleep. 

“I was going to go back to bed, but I can if you want me to,” he answers; Then, after a pause, “Do you want me to?”

“Yes,” she breathes, laying back down and adjusting the covers over her shoulders.

His heart pounds in his chest. “Okay,” he says, his voice strained. “I’ll be right back.”

This time when he returns, he opens the door with less hesitation, since theoretically, he has an invitation. He briefly wonders if she’d just wanted him to sit in here and talk or something, but the way she’s pulled back the covers for him clarifies her meaning pretty effectively.

The mattress dips below him as he takes his place on the right side of the bed. He’s not sure she’s even awake anymore, but he reminds himself that she asked for this. It’s not even that unusual these days to share a bed with her, and yet each time, he still feels as nervous as the last.

She hums in appreciation once he gets settled, rolling over to face him.

“I like having you here,” she says sleepily, wrapping her arms around his right arm.

‘What a coincidence,’ he thinks, ‘I like being here.’

It doesn’t matter if they get woken up every couple hours throughout the night—it’s one of the best night's sleep Mulder has ever had. For the first time, he has his family all under one roof. Never mind the roof—they’re all in one room.

When they wake in the morning, Scully’s head is resting on his shoulder, and his hand is tucked snugly around her waist.

He can’t imagine a better place to be.

-.-.-

She leaves Mulder with Maddie in the living room while she puts the laundry away, smiling to herself at the sight of the two of them playing together. Maybe playing is an exaggeration, but Mulder keeps making her kick her legs to the beat of whatever of his CDs is currently playing in the CD player, a game she seems rather indifferent toward. 

She does seem to like being in the bouncy chair, though, even though she hasn’t quite figured out how to reach for the colorful toys dangling above it. It’s only a matter of time before she’ll be shoving anything and everything she can reach into her slobbery mouth, Scully reminds herself. There’s plenty to enjoy about these newborn days, and she vows to make the most of them.

As she’s finishing hanging up one of her work shirts in the closet, her cell phone rings on the nightstand where she’d left it the night before. She hooks the hanger onto the rod and sets the remaining pile of clothes on the bed before picking up the device and checking the caller I.D.

Bill, Jr.

Scully sighs and pushes the door to her bedroom closed, leaving only a small crack in case Mulder needs something. Only then does she feel ready for the conversation that is about to take place.

“Hi, Bill,” she says, feeling dread pool in the pit of her stomach. This was one of the consequences of not telling her family that she’d tried to forget about, initially, but now it had come back to bite her.

“Dana,” he says. “So, I talked to Mom on the phone yesterday.”

Scully sits down on the edge of her bed. It’s either that, or pace around in circles until she wears a hole into the carpet, and she’d really like to not have to replace the carpet in here another time.

“What did she tell you?” she asks, calculating just how upset she needs to be with her mother the next time she sees her.

“Nothing,” he answers. “She couldn’t talk, just said she was very busy and that I should call you.”

Scully suppresses a breath of relief.

“I was actually going to call you today,” she says, which is mostly true. Mulder had been asking her all morning when she’d get around to telling the rest of her family, and she’d promised it would be soon. She knew it was probably making him as anxious as she was. He’s the one who had worried about Bill since the beginning of all this.

“So, what is it?” her brother asks, clearly bracing for some kind of life altering news. “Cancer?” he guesses, muttering the word in hopes of it being wrong.

“No,” she’s quick to assure him. “No, it’s not that. It’s– um…”

How to go about this? She has a couple options here. Which part of the news should she break first?

“Spit it out, Danes,” he says, clearly growing impatient.

“I, um…” 

Good news first, right? Well, not that any of it is bad news, from her perspective, but from Bill’s… 

“I adopted a baby, Bill,” she says, keeping her voice quiet enough that Mulder won’t hear.

“You did what?” he asks, still processing what she’d said. “A baby? Why would you–? Without telling us?”

Scully purses her lips, keeping silent while he comes to terms with this announcement.

“It’s not—” he stammers, searching for the right words. “It’s not like… Emily… right?”

She huffs, despite knowing he means no offense by asking. But somehow, it still hurts to hear the detached way he questions her.

“No, just a regular adoption through an agency,” she says, working hard to keep the annoyance out of her voice.

“By yourself?” he asks, emphasizing the words.

And here’s where things could go south very quickly. 

She’ll just say it. Like ripping off a band-aid. 

“With Mulder.”

It would be better, she thinks, if Bill would just jump straight into yelling at her, but instead she has to sit through at least thirty seconds of complete silence, the tension making her want to snap.

“With Mulder,” he finally repeats, the tone of his voice indiscernible.

Scully’s tongue peeks out and runs over her upper lip, a nervous tic she’s thus far been unable to quell. “Is there a problem with that?” she asks, testing him. Daring him to voice his disdain for the man she’s chosen to spend her life with.

Bill Jr. has never been one to back down from a challenge.

“What, are you trading off taking care of it like some class pet, Dana?”

And there’s the predictable moment where he pushes her over the edge. It was only a matter of time before he said something truly hurtful.

“Her name is Madeline, Bill,” she says forcefully, her voice raising an octave. “And actually, Mulder and I are living together. We’re raising her together, as partners.”

“As partners,” he scoffs. “What, he couldn’t at least make an honest woman out of you? I can’t believe Mom is supporting this—”

“If it matters that much to you, I’ll have you know that Mulder and I are, in fact, married,” she says, taking a tone of superiority that she usually reserves for embarrassing sexist law enforcement officers in Podunk, U.S.A. “But before you come flying across the country raring to fight, we only got married to make the process easier. You don’t have to worry about your poor defenseless sister falling to the whims of some quote-unquote ‘dangerous man.’”

“Dana,” Bill says, frustration and disappointment evident in his voice. “I just don’t understand you. You could have any man you want, someone who would give you a real family. Why would you settle for this– this… arrangement you have with your work partner?”

“Why can’t you just be happy for me, Bill? Why do I have to explain myself to you?”

“Is this what you were hiding at Christmas? Is this why he came along?”

Her deafening silence is all the answer he needs.

“I can’t believe this. My baby sister has a sham marriage…” he groans. “How could you let this happen, Dana? What are you going to do when he runs off to go search for aliens and leaves you?”

“Mulder has been the best father a kid could ask for,” Scully speaks angrily into the phone. It’s one thing for Bill to insult her, but the things he’s saying about Mulder are unacceptable.

“I hope that’s true,” he spits. “I hope for your sake, Dana, that you’re right. But I’m telling you right now, I don’t have much confidence in the guy. How can someone like that, with his head constantly in the clouds yelling that the sky is falling, ever be the father he needs to be? I just don’t see it. Why couldn’t you just find someone who loves you and settle down the normal way? Why?”

Scully’s pounding heart shatters, spilling all over the floor in tiny pieces and knocking the wind out of her.

“He does love me,” she gasps through tears, hoping that if she says it with enough conviction, it might be true. “He does.”

She’s not sure who she’s trying to convince now, her brother, or herself. Either way, it’s clear he detects the uncertainty in her voice, that nagging bit of doubt she can’t seem to shake. She imagines on his face the smug look of a slimy defense lawyer about to rest his case, knowing that he’s about to let a guilty man go free. Her stomach twists sickly.

“You sure about that?” Bill asks.

A gentle tap on her shoulder startles her out of her near panic attack, and she looks up to see Mulder standing there, an unreadable expression on his face. How long he’s been listening, she doesn’t know, but with tear-filled eyes, she feels vulnerable and hurt and just wants it to stop. He holds his hand out for the phone, and she releases it from her iron grip, handing it to him without a word.

His thumb immediately finds the end call button, and he tosses it on her bed without a second glance.

Crouching down to her level, he holds her gently in place by placing his hands on her arms, locking his eyes with hers with an intensity she’s rarely ever seen.

“I do love you,” he says, his voice low and sincere. “Don’t listen to him. I love you.”

His thumb brushes soothingly over the smooth underside of her elbow, and she finds she can’t look away. She’s too overwhelmed now to contain her tears, and she doesn’t have the strength to do so even if she tried. They spill forth like a river, and she holds fast to his words, afraid that if she lets go, she’ll be pulled under by the current.

“You do?” she asks, trembling under his grip as she searches his eyes for the truth.

He nods simply, his brows furrowed in worry at the state of her.

Desperately, and without a second thought, she wraps her arms around his shoulders, holding onto him tightly. The position can’t be good for his knees, but he responds in kind, encircling her waist in the security of his arms.

“I love you too,” she gasps, hardly able to get the words out through the tightness constricting her throat, but she has to. He needs to know what she should have told him long ago.

His shoulders drop in relief, and she feels him bury his face in her neck and clutch her tighter, his hand moving up her back to entangle with the hair at the base of her neck.

“You’ve given me everything,” he murmurs into her skin, his voice breaking with honesty. “This family, Scully… I’ve wanted this with you for so long.”

She lets out a sob, grabbing at his shirt for purchase and refusing to let go. His Adam’s apple bobs against her shoulder, and she knows him well enough by now to know that he, too, is overcome with emotion. 

He pulls back suddenly and his eyes meet hers, watery and clear, a direct window into the depths of his soul. For the first time, everything he feels is laid bare at her feet, and she knows without a shadow of a doubt that he loves her. Every bit of her, just as she does him. And for the first time, she allows herself to believe it. 

Under the weight of his undisguised adoration, she almost forgets how to breathe.

She has just enough time to draw one last shaky breath before he surges forward and kisses her, covering her mouth with his like a desperate man that has been dying of thirst in the desert. His lips are salty with tears—either hers or his, she can’t tell, but what’s the difference? He drops his knees to the ground, allowing him a little extra height and better stability so he doesn’t have to rely on her for balance quite as much. 

They cling desperately to each other, here in this small bedroom in their apartment in Georgetown, and she realizes all at once that she has everything she could possibly want. His hand cups her cheek, his thumb brushing tenderly against her jaw as his lips move firmly and smoothly over hers.

This is it, the thing she’s scarcely allowed herself to hope for. Mulder—all of him. As a friend. As a partner. As a husband. Now, a lover. 

Her family.

“Your brother’s an idiot,” he says into her mouth, startling a huff of a laugh out of her before he devotes himself entirely to the kiss, giving his utmost care and attention to the fullness of her bottom lip.

She smiles and pulls back just long enough to look at him, his shining, tear-filled eyes and radiant grin making her stomach do somersaults.

“Shut up, Mulder,” she says, cupping his face between her hands.

His fingers brush her tears away, leaving only happiness in their wake.

And she kisses him again.

Lovely tag list ♡: [if you would like to be added or removed, let me know!]

~~~

AHHH that's the end (except the epilogue) 🥲 I can hardly believe it. I'll have a longer author's note tomorrow with the last chapter, but for now, here's a drawing I spent WAY too long on (not an artist, but I tried)

@today-in-fic @ao3feed-msr @agent-troi @angegova @baronessblixen @calimanc @captainsolocide @clo-thespin @cutemothman @danasculls @deathsbestgirl @edierone @enigmaticxbee @figureofdismay @frogsmulder @gillian-anderson-in-the-tardis @hippocampouts @invidiosa @monaiargancoconutsoy @msrafterdark @numinousmysteries @primrose19 @randomfoggytiger @skelavender @skylarksong @stephy-gold @teenie-xf @the-redhead-in-a-dress @vincentsleftear

[askthisfishprince]

✨Official Disclaimer/FAQ Master Post✨

I'm going to be pinning this one, just in case anyone has questions or hopefully make some things easier to find! Will also add things as I need to.

Questions Regarding Timelines or “Canon”

I don't have an exact timeline in my head for this blog. In my imagination, Eridan and the other trolls are just alive again and in the present, and all the previous storylines still exist within it. The difference is that it takes place after the comic, so everyone is an adult just going along for the ride lol I guess that's what I'm going for 🤷‍♀️

I apologize if I stray away from the "canon"... I try to stay as true to the characters and their dynamics as I can. But sometimes it's just fun to be a bit silly and go off book for the sake of adding some humor. Also….it is an ask blog of a character that died pretty early on and did not get much in the “character development” department lol So again, I do my best to write him as “canon” to his true attitude and behavior as I can. But it can get very hard to give nuance to a guy who overall was pretty shitty, didn’t have much dialogue in the first place while also giving him a fake timeline that takes place a couple years down the line and allow him to have a crumb of self improvement without it coming off as too ooc. So if you see behavior that you don't think is accurate to him…..i promise I do my best…….i have google docs and PowerPoints on this guy lol so I promise the brain rot runs deep

Why I Haven’t Answered Your Question

If you notice that I have not answered your question there are multiple factors.

I couldn’t come up with decent enough dialogue that I felt was good enough to respond with. I am extremely stubborn

I work a full time job and just couldn’t find the time to :(

It was a very strange question and I have no idea what to say lol usually sexual, creepy, violent etc

I have gotten multiple of the same question and I am currently working on a reply.

I waited too long and I feel too bad to respond now ❤️

I can tell if you are spamming me with the same question even if you are anonymous lol And I'm sorry but I won't answer those lol

My inbox is actually insane at times and I genuinely can’t get to everyone :(

I promise I read every single question and I appreciate all of them!! Even the creepy ones.

But I am one person running this blog on my own time with a full time job with only so much time during the day 😔 I also have rampant adhd that can make it very hard to complete certain things

“Will I be making more content of Eridan and *insert character*”

I try to avoid having strict shipping content on here. I don't want this blog to become limited in my responses because I inadvertently turned it into a shipping blog. I do enjoy dropping hints, but for the most part, I prefer to keep things open so that I don't unintentionally limit myself. I also don't want fans who ship other things to feel like they can't ask questions about different characters or scenarios.

I do not have any “headcannons” that I am against or a ride or die for…but….please do not send me any Cronus and Eridan shipping questions. It is very yucky to me. I outright ignore the ministrife….i pretend to not see it 🥰

Am I An Eridan “Defender”?

No lmao

I’m not gonna write down my whole pathetic analysis on him. But I’m not gonna be here at my old age defending a fictional fish guy who boasted about the aspects of eugenics and harass people who disagree?? What is this?? 2013? lol

If you hate him and think he is awful. That is 100000% A-okay! You are allowed to! And I understand lmao

If you ever want to actually talk about Eridan openly, and discuss him as a character or anything. Just dm me! :)

Also just a reminder to clarify that my writing for Eridan does not necessarily reflect my personal feelings. If you ask “Eridan” about certain characters and my response seems mean or nasty, please note that it doesn't mean I dislike the ship or character. Eridan is not particularly friendly, even towards people he likes, so I try not to insert too much of my own feelings into his responses.

(Erisol, EriRox, eridan and literally everybody lmao….except maybe Karkat…..thats his bro…)

Tags

All of my Eridan responses will always be tagged under my url “askthisfishprince”

Any questions directed at me that I post responses for will be under

“NotEridanAsks”

How To View The Post Properly

Whenever I make a response, I try to keep things as clear as possible! Any text in the description or in the tags that does NOT have (()) around it, means thats Eridan talking.

Anything besides that is ✨me✨ lol

Always check the tags for extra dialogue! :) and also always check for “read more” because sometimes I add extra silly doodles lol

Also sometimes I give my two cents as to why I did something a certain way in the tags. So if you care to hear me Yap, check the tags.

Also if you ever want to send an ask to me, either state in the ask that its for op or just put (()) around it! :)

[useramor]

i got all my sisters with me rated: T | word count: 6.7k

for @eddiediass since dev inspired this whole thing <3 i hope you like it!

Soph to Eddie Hate Club: Hey guys! This is Alex, Sophia’s been a little out of it since Nina was born (she’s doing great, just in some pain and y’all know how weirdly woozy she gets on medicine). Combine that with a lack of sleep, and…well Y’all get it. Anyway, Soph and I wanted to host you guys next weekend.

Adriana to Eddie Hate Club: YES I’m packing my bags right now

Eddie to Eddie Hate Club: Are Buck and Chris invited?

Soph to Eddie Hate Club: I will take any excuse to see that man up close and personal “Hey, Buck?”

“Hmm.”

“What do you say about a trip to Texas?”

(or, eddie's sister has a baby, buck meets the diaz girls, and they're sickeningly in love for six thousand words)

read on ao3

[abd-illustrates]

Artblock, Arcane, and an Announcement 👀 | Sketchbook Session

It’s time for another chilled out sketchbook session ☕✏️ This time around I wanted to catch y’all up on what I’ve been up to lately – AND make a special introduction…! 🦝🍂 Get comfy and listen in for some tips, tricks, and tales (or tails)

🍂🦝 SITE, STORE & SOCIALS 🦝🍂

[teen-hattie-asks]

Hi there!! I'm Hat Kid, a 15-year-old spacetime-travelling explorer looking for time pieces across the galaxy! Space gets pretty lonely, so ask me anything you wanna! - Hattie <3

That's a good description, right?

(//introductory comic below! hope you enjoy!)

[morangoowada]

DND AU INFO POST

Intro:

This AU features Kiyotaka, Mondo, Leon, Chihiro and Yasuhiro, the main party on an adventure together as a group. They are investigating a certain mistery revolving around their land, where multiple people are disappearing without a single trace. During their investigation they encounter a lot of different individuals and obstacles.

(And as the title of the au says, it has a Dungeons and Dragons setting.)

Character sheets:

Some boundaries and disclaimers:

Fanarts are completely okay, I would love seeing all your takes on the designs, if you ever make any please tag me.

I know people have different takes on different characters, but if you're gonna draw any of my designs, PLEASE don't whitewash the characters. Taking my designs and just whitewashing them is completely unacceptable. (This applies to any AU I ever make, please be decent)

I have no issue with people making ship content of the characters, just be careful because there are some canon relationships in there.

Asks about my Au are completely fine, so if you ever have any questions or just wanna say something about it, please send them to me

Now... Here is the fanfic. Please be patient with me this is like my first fic ever..

@dnd-au-archives The archive blog!!

(This post will probably be updated in the future)

[aletterinthenameofsanity]

Dead Boy Detectives Victor AU Chapter 3!

If the last two chapters were brutal beyond compare, gunshots and hellfire and all that, this one is about a sapling. And about how in order to let new trees grow, sometimes you need a forest fire.

Also- yes, you do see that relationship tag change. :)

There is a way to cushion the blow as it falls. A way to catch the knife on its way down and make it into a slightly shallower wound, less likely to slice down to bone marrow.

So Edwin sits down on the stool next to Monty, takes a deep breath, and says, "I do not want your only experience with sex to be being fucked for money,” and it’s blunt, but they are reaching these final halcyon days before everything goes wrong. Why not embrace them? “And if these attempts at rebellion fail-” Edwin swallows, and he thinks of Charles, and Charles’ sofa, and the light that entered his veins the first time he kissed Charles.

And so he says, “This life does not have to be torture,” Edwin says, “Or, at least, we do not need to add to the torture by punishing ourselves."

And the look in Monty’s eyes is something that Edwin might have once classified as hero worship before he himself wiped such a possibility away. Now, he guesses he would call it something between awe and affection, the place where realized impossibility sits.

“If we only get one night together without the Capitolites there,” Monty says, and he’s braver than Edwin to suggest: “Then we should ask Charles.”

@anything-thats-rock-and-roll @icecreambrownies @anonymousbooknerd-universe @magpiemarten @mj-irvine-selby

@hartigays @tragedy-machine @just-existing-as-you-do-blog @orpheusetude