#so here i am with my little notebook writing shit down

[basicallyjaywalker]

I should've uploaded this earlier. Anyways I'm entering my ✨ astrology era :✨

[tojifile]

@Gojo Satoru . . . (๑ ˃ ᴗ ˂)

Tags: bf!satoru, gn!reader, established relationship, pure fluff, hcs, ooc Gojo Satoru, cursing

A/N: This loser twink won the poll. I like him and don’t like him (I am still his gf though) so here I am, writing a bf!satoru x reader because I WANT A BF (and kinda don’t, it’s either they suck or they’re the best). My new year’s resolution is to get a bf, please baby me, I want to be babied so bad!!! Tfdym dignity??? PLEASE mansplain the most basic shit, look down on me ��😍

Links: Masterlist

bf!satoru who doesn’t care where you guys are. He’s just super touchy. This guy doesn’t want to hear about how you’re in public, he just wants to feel you. Don’t even try to dodge his hugs or kisses because he will make a scene.

bf!satoru who, when you’re not around, texts you all the time. Asking where you are, how you are, if you’re hungry. You know, shit like that. He always needs to know what’s up with you, don’t even try to hide your true feelings from him.

bf!satoru who is such a whiny brat. He definitely has this playful rivalry with Megumi. I would imagine Megumi to develop some kind of crush on you, especially if you’d dote on him. Throw “unshakable character” out the window. This kid has mommy issues AND daddy issues.

bf!satoru who loves seeing your reactions. He’ll tease you, touch you, and whine. He loves to see what you’d do next. It always works in his favor anyways.

bf!satoru who takes you out on expensive dates. He makes sure people know you’re well taken care of. Even if someone was brave enough to court you, they could never compete with him.

bf!satoru who loves to kiss you. He worships your body and is as careful with you as one can be. If he hears you’re insecure, he’ll constantly reassure you that you’re beautiful.

bf!satoru who loves to dress you up. You’re like a little doll to him.

bf!satoru who already has his vows written and scribbles your name in a notebook with his last name like a teenage girl. Now, if this were no curse, modern au then him, Suguru, and Ieiri probably did FLAMES to see what you guys were.

bf!satoru who just loves you so much. He’s ready to do anything for you and with you. To have and to hold you from the day he met you, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death do you part.

“I love you, Satoru..” you whispered softly in his ear as you played with his hair, breathing in the cold winter air. His head was facing your chest as you straddled his upper body on the bed, hugging each other. You couldn’t care less about the world right now. All you thought about was how Satoru was with you, how he was alive and well, and how much you lived him, “I love you more.”

@toxicramune @oh-my-beel @nymphsdomain @morinuu – Comment 🪩 to be on my taglist !

[blackbat05]

Friday Evenings

Evan Buckley x Reader (Not Gender Specified)

Plot: It’s another Friday evening at the library, but that doesn’t mean it has to be boring.

Genre: PG-13

A/N: Kinda like a comfort piece for myself. Also, I need to start writing again so I guess this is the way to go. Enjoy!

“Knock, knock!”

I look up from my laptop to find Evan holding a bag of takeout. “Uh, I know there's strictly no food in the library, but I was hoping you could make an exception.” 

“Well, perks of being the library assistant. Come on over.” I invite him behind the circulation desk and draw the blinders. “Your timing is immaculate, I was just about to finish up the last bit of cataloging.” 

“Cool, no rush.” Evan sets the bag down. “Can I take a look?” Curious Evan, always eager to learn more about everything around him. That was also what made him so attractive. 

“Nah, I’m pretty sure it’ll just bore you.” 

“Hey, how do you know what bores me?” His eyes twinkle and set himself beside me. My fingers quickly fly across the keyboard, entering the right value and category into each empty box. I scan the barcode of each book, registering it into the database before sticking the respective stickers on the book. 

“Finished!” Despite the seemingly small task, it was still a task completed. 

“That was amazing.” 

“Says my boyfriend that fights fires for a living.” I dismiss him casually. 

“Don’t do that.” Evan admonishes. “Did you know that in the past, people had to flip through thousands of cards to find the book that they wanted?” He gives me another fun fact to which I am amazed by once again. “You guys are like the keeper of books. Without you guys, there’s no knowledge and the whole world would burn to the ground.” 

“And that’s why you’re my biggest hype man.” I say, giving him a kiss. “On behalf of all library staff, I would like to thank you for acknowledging our tireless efforts.” Fishing out a box of chow mein, I find my mouth salivating as I dive into the springy noodles. 

Night falls as Evan and I talk about our week. From crazy rescues to patrons of different personalities, there was no dull moment. 

“Lisa was so sweet. I always love to see when a child is so enthusiastic about reading. You hardly ever see that these days.” You gush. 

“Tell me about it. Maddy and Chim are really trying their best to build that habit in Jee.” Evan agrees.

A clacking of shoes could be heard from behind the entrance. A stray strand of noodle hangs limply from Evan’s mouth. My eyes widen at the noise as I put a finger to my lips.

“Shit! I thought Marianne left! She’s gonna kill me if she finds out.” I hissed, eyes darting around wildly for a solution. Evan’s a step ahead of me as he swiftly removes all the damning evidence and packed it into the takeaway bag before ducking down under the circulation desk.

Not a second later, Marianne enters, completely unaware of the chaos that just happened.

“Hey! I left something behind. I need it for tomorrow’s class.” She comes closer and I can feel the sweat trickling down my back. I quickly push my chair to block her way, earning a curious stare from her.

“No worries! I can get it for you. Just stay right there.”

Before she can say anything else, I grab the cursed notebook belonging to Marianne, making back to my seat in top speed.

“Er… thanks!” Marianne slightly cocks her head in confusion. “You sure you okay? You seem a little jumpy.”

“Totally! Just can’t wait to get out of here. It’s a Public Holiday tomorrow after all.” I laughed. Somehow, I knew that Evan groaned from under the table at my poor attempt.

Marianne shrugs, taking her notebook. “Well, don’t stay long!”

She leaves, shutting the door behind her.

"Ouch..." Evan barely manages to get himself back on the chair. He grins at me. "Some dinner that was huh?"

"I'm sorry, I didn't want to give Marianne an opportunity for me to become office gossip. You know how older ladies are."

"Trust me. Have you seen Eddie's Aunt?"

The two of us burst into laughter, quickly piping down just in case Marianne was still within the vicinity.

"Anything I can help with?" Evan asks as we pack away the containers. "I need to fight the food coma."

"Hm... well I do need to shelve back today's returns." You tell him. "If we split up, it should be done in no time and we're out of here."

"Sounds like a plan."

I grab a trolley for Evan and assign him to a row. The two of us worked seamlessly, the rolling of the wheels on the carpet was the only sound that filled the library.

"Y/N?"

"Hm?"

"I'm happy for you." He says sincerely. It doesn't take me long to piece together what he was referring to.

"You know, it still hurts sometimes." I tell him as I shelve a couple more books before going down the aisle. "But it hurts less."

The memories of not living up to the expectations of those who depended on me float around in my mind. The disappointment on people's faces when I told them I couldn't continue. The anger and self-hatred that I experienced because I essentially threw all that hard work and effort into the drain.

"Don't go there." Evan says sharply. "Don't beat yourself up for things that you couldn't control."

I give a weak smile. Evan had enough confidence for the two of us.

"You did what was the best in that moment. You just didn't know that it wasn't the right thing for you. That's okay. I mean look at me! I was wandering around aimlessly before I found the 118. It seems you may have found your place."

"What if it doesn't work out again?" My inner voice wins the battle to be let out into the open.

"Then you try again." Evan says it, as if it's so simple. "We're not going to put ourselves in a box for the rest of our lives. We got to try new things when we can. And that's exactly what you're doing."

The both of us reach the end of our respective aisles, cart empty. Evan comes close and hugs me. "Maddie says that hugs can really help to improve a person's mood."

Did I save an entire country in my past life for Evan to be by my side?

"You always know the right words to say."

"That's because they're the truth." Evan helps with the paper bags. "Now, as much as I really enjoyed secretly flouting the library rules, we should head for desert." His eyes twinkle. "I'm thinking of that gelato place down the street."

He knew the right words to say and the way to my stomach? Scratch that, he saved an entire continent with his selfless behavior.

"You took the words right out of my mouth."

Evan smiles widely and gets up from his chair.

“Come on. We’re not going to waste a perfectly good evening.”

Like I said, I didn’t know what I did to deserve Evan Buckley.

[qveerthe0ry]

The D-Files

Summary: Something weird happens when Dieter tries to post his X-Files fanfiction Word Count: 14,941 Pairing: Dieter Bravo x Fox Mulder x Dana Scully Rating: 18+ mdni Warnings: threesome, oral (m & f receiving), vaginal fingering, unprotected PIV, rimming, d/s undertones, poor explanation of time travel and quantum physics, it's a little cracky tbh Beta: the one and only @for-a-longlongtime obviously A/N: listen. I have ten episodes left of the whole series so if something is totally off and not accurate to x files canon just ignore me :) Also I'm absolutely aware of how completely ridiculous this fic is but I heard the voice of Dieter Bravo speak to me and could not ignore it Ao3 link

Curled up under at least three blankets, in just his underwear, stoned out of his mind (just weed— he’s California sober now) Dieter watches Mulder and Scully shake hands for the first time. 

The first time for them. 

He’s had to have seen this episode at least a thousand times by now. 

He’s in one of those funks again. His therapist calls it a depressive episode, but that’s so dramatic. He’s just a little bit down in the dumps thinking about how worthless he is and how no one’s ever really loved him before, not even his own parents, and how he hates himself so much he’s not sure if he would ever get rid of the guilt of letting someone else love him because he knows he’d just be a waste of their time.

It’s no big deal. Nothing an X-Files rewatch, weed, and a footlong Subway sandwich can’t fix.

Except this time, the way Scully and Mulder instantly mesh so well kind of makes him feel like he smoked too much pot. His stomach’s a little queasy as he watches him give her his undivided attention, and fuck, maybe this is a job above these FBI agents’ pay grade. 

He eyes that stupid notebook on his nightstand, still wrapped in plastic from the Amazon order. 

His therapist told him to start writing his thoughts down in a journal. He doesn’t like writing. It’s not what he does. He can’t stand those actors who think just because they’ve starred in a few movies means they should start writing them, or scrawling down some convoluted, conceited novel. Just fucking act, y’know? 

But as Scully throws herself into Mulder’s arms after knowing him for only a few days, and they both look so comfortable, Dieter rips open the packaging and swallows down the bile threatening his esophagus.

—

I don’t even know what I’m supposed to be doing here. What should I even write down in this thing? How lonely I am? Get in line, right? I’m not the only one. Even though sometimes it feels like I am.

Maybe it feels so bad because I know I did this to myself. Everyone always told me I’d always be a piece of shit. Even when I was young. And I just let their narrative take over and now here I am. The biggest piece of shit. 

It’s like Mulder. Everyone always called him Spooky and said he was too ‘out there’ and he ended up in the basement chasing Bigfoot. 

Except I don’t have a hot redhead in my life to balance me out or slowly fall in love with me.

And I’m not a tall, boyishly handsome, charming FBI agent. 

I’m just a washed-up actor, and a slob, and a drug addict. That’s probably why.

Golly gee, doc, this sure made me feel better.

—

He writes in his journal a bit here and there. He also slowly rots away in his bed, takes far too little showers and far too many THC gummies. He talks to his therapist two weeks later and tells her he’s been writing down his thoughts and her impressed hum and “That’s very good, Dieter” has him riding a high the rest of the afternoon. 

So he keeps it up. 

He doesn’t leave the house much, and when he does, he just wants to get back into his permanently affixed blanket fort to watch more X-Files and get high. 

He writes a little about his day, about what he’s mulling over in his mind. But as he reaches the end of season two, he’s out of his funk enough to start feeling horny again. 

Who wouldn’t, watching the world’s hottest FBI agents on a near constant loop?

So who can blame him when his journal thoughts get a little spicy?

—

God, Mulder’s such an idiot sometimes. So is Scully. They waste so much time getting on each others’ nerves. This entire show is just years-long foreplay. I swear they get off on irritating each other.

I irritate so many people, why aren’t any of them ever turned on about it? 

They should have just let them kiss in the first season. There could have been so much sex. All the motel rooms these two wasted! On the government’s dime, too! 

Rental car sex, alleyway sex, OFFICE sex. The Sex Files. That’s what this show should have been. 

I wonder if Mulder’s better at eating ass or pussy. I just know he’s freaky with all the porn and phone sex hotlines. And the auto erotic asphyxiation thing, can’t forget about that. I’d choke the shit out of him if he wanted that. With my hand or my cock, his choice. 

I wonder if Scully is freaky, too? I think she’d deny it, but it wouldn’t surprise me if she was filthy kinky. She always has to be in control. I wonder if she’d be like that in bed, too? I wonder if she’d get off on torturing me and making me beg. Or maybe she’s always so in control that she wants to relinquish all of it when she’s in bed.

—

Dieter remembers that fanfiction exists shortly after that. 

His dick is raw and he hasn’t even made it through half of the explicit entries on archive of our own. But everything’s so… Vanilla. 

Don’t get him wrong, he’s a total sucker for tender, missionary love-making. But where’s the experimentation? Where’s the creativity? And why the hell does everyone think Fox Mulder is such a dom?

Just look at him.

He’s pathetic. Scully could have him begging on his knees with nothing but the snap of her finger and one of her sexy, stern glances. Maybe he’s projecting a little bit, but not much.

He gripes to his therapist about this while he avoids the topic of his greatest fear being dying without ever having a meaningful relationship in his whole life.

“Have you ever thought about writing your own fanfiction?”

And no, he truly never has. It seems like something so far away from appropriate given his profession. But then again, when has he ever been totally professional?

So he starts writing. At first he finds himself falling into the popular tropes— love confessions and sweet, romantic first times. Just little blurbs in his journal he ends up scrawling out with his pen. There’s enough of that already. He needs to explore the fun stuff with these two.

One night/early morning, he finally grabs his laptop from his rarely-used office. He snuggles up under all the blankets he can find, turns on The X-Files, and gets down to business. 

—

“I’m sorry Scully—”

“Don’t.”

Her icy blue stare pins Mulder in place. His pouty lips close and his sharp jaw clenches as he looks down at his feet.

“You almost got us killed!”

“I wouldn’t have let you get hurt, you know that.”

Scully doesn’t know what comes over her, but she crosses what little distance is between them to grab the back of Mulder’s hair and tug.

His jaw drops and as hard as he tries, he can’t stifle the whimper that slips from his lip. 

“You were reckless with your own life. You can’t— Do you know what I would do if anything ever happened to you?”

Scully’s sharp gaze softens. Tears prickle at Mulder’s eyes, partly from Scully’s death grip and partly because of the way her voice wavers. 

“Scully—”

“Get on your knees.”

——

Dieter fights the heavy, sharp arousal in his gut as he writes Mulder on his knees for Scully. He just knows he’d eat pussy like a champ, what with those sunflower seeds he’s always got between those pillowy lips. He’d be great at sucking cock, too. Dieter thinks they would look so fucking pretty around his own dick.

Or Scully’s strap. 

Perfect.

He stays awake for way too long, writing about Scully trapping Mulder between her thighs for hours, and then making him choke or her strap, and then making him beg and whimper and cry for it as she teases his prostate with her fingers. 

Scully’s so dainty, but the idea of her fucking into her big, tall partner with fury has Dieter leaking into his boxers as he types away. It takes all of Dieter’s willpower to write the sweet aftercare scene. Scully gently cleans up his cum and sweat and tears, telling him what a good boy he was as she pets his hair and kisses his face. 

As soon as Dieter writes the last words, he’s fumbling for his lube and dildo in the bedside drawer. He’s too worked up to prepare properly, and it burns, and he hears Scully’s disappointed tuts in his head as he fucks himself into a mess. 

He whines her name, and Mulder’s name, as filthy images of the two fill his head. 

He comes without even touching his dick. He makes an absolute mess of his sheets and just grinds into the puddle beneath him as he fucks himself through the aftershocks. 

And if he cries a little bit at the thought of two beautiful FBI agents telling him how good he was as they stroke his sweaty skin, that’s between him and his open laptop. 

—

“Do you think I should post my fanfiction?”

His therapist’s perfectly shaped eyebrows perk up. 

“Do you think you should post it?”

“I dunno. Probably not.”

“Why not?”

“Wouldn’t it be a little weird? An actor writing fanfiction about characters his peers portrayed?”

His therapist hums. He knows that’s his cue to keep talking, but they just sit in silence for a bit. 

“Do you want to post it?” She asks. 

He huffs. 

“I don’t know. What if everyone hates it?”

She shrugs and nods at him to continue.

“I’m afraid no one’s gonna read it. Or if they do, they’ll hate it. And leave mean comments.”

“Would that bother you?”

“Well yeah, duh.”

She hums again. Dieter rolls his eyes, half at her but half at himself. 

“I know, I know,” he sighs, “I’m a walking contradiction. I crave praise but I’m too afraid to put myself out there to receive any.”

“That’s not necessarily true. You’re an actor. It’s your job to put yourself out there and be consumed and reviewed.”

“Yeah but that’s not me, it’s just the guy they tell me to play.”

His therapist smiles. 

Shit. 

“I think you know what you need to do, Dieter.”

He does leave that therapy session crying, thirty minutes later. If he had a tail, it would be between his legs. 

It takes him six days to work up enough courage to even make an account. And then another two days to pour over every single word he wrote, change it, change it back, wash rinse and repeat. 

When he finally works up the nerve to post it, his laptop dies just as he’s about to press the publish button. 

You gotta be kidding me, he thinks, maybe this is a sign.

But then he thinks about what his therapist would say, that things that are worth it rarely come easy, and that he should probably stop assuming everything is a sign, and so he plugs his laptop in and waits for it to charge enough to come back to life. 

It’s the longest four minutes of his life. 

He stares at the black screen in silence. He blinks at his reflection as he listens to the storm brewing outside his window, only flinching slightly as lightning illuminates his dark room. 

His heart leaps up into his throat when the screen lights up again. Everything’s right where he left it. All he has to do is press that little button. 

He takes one, two, three deep breaths with his finger on the trigger and then—

CRACK

—

Everything hurts. Like, bad.

Dieter groans and tries to blink his eyes open. It’s bright. He’s no stranger to waking up in an unfamiliar place with a terrible headache and no recollection of how or why he’s there. However, he hasn’t touched a party drug in a year and a half, and hasn’t even been to a party for even longer than that. 

He finally blinks away the sleep in his eyes. He’s on the cold ground. The grass is plush and dewy under him. When he sits up, the world spins around him for a few moments and he just barely keeps his stomach from emptying. 

He checks his pockets. At least he has his phone on him. No wallet, though. And he’s in his pajamas, which is fine, not unusual attire for most of his outings. 

He goes to unlock his phone but of course it’s dead. 

Shit. 

He looks around a bit more and all this scenery does not look like Los Angeles. There are hills in the distance that are much more rolling than the jagged peaks in California. The smell of campfire fills the air and it’s humid, he realizes. Stiflingly so. 

He stands up. His joints ache even more than they usually do, stiff and popping. When he runs his hand through his hair he’s got wicked bed head. 

At least he can make out a dirt path amongst the grass and trees around him. He follows it for a while, and just as he thinks he might be wandering to his own death out in the boonies he sees a little shack in the clearing just by what seems to be a lake. 

It looks… Strangely familiar, despite the fact that he’s certain he’s never been here before. There’s a sign that reads “Bait & Tackle” that’s seen better days and a big giant inflatable… something tied down to the roof. 

He scratches his head as he stares. He has the feeling of something being on the tip of his tongue, but it’s on the tip of his brain instead. 

As he approaches, a high-pitched growl startles him out of his daze. His eyes frantically search for the source, and as he walks closer he spots it.

A tiny little yappy Pomeranian, tan and fluffy. 

It hits him all at once. 

He gasps and moves toward the fiesty little thing as his heart pounds. There’s no way…

It snarls and yaps at him as he crouches down to greet it— him. 

Once he starts giving the dog butt pats and head scratches, it warms up to him pretty quickly. He searches for the dog tag hiding under all that fur and gasps as he reads it.

QUEEQUEG

“Oh my god, Queequeg, I thought I’d never see you again, buddy.”

The pup wags his tail at the sound of his name and Dieter goes down on his knees to accept him into his lap. 

“How are you real? What’s happening?”

Tears well at Dieter’s eyes as he holds this fictional dog in his arms, who’s been dead since season 3. Sue him, he’s very confused and vulnerable and it was the most devastating death of the series by far.

As he pets the derpy little thing, he tries to wrap his head around everything that’s going on. Last he remembers, he was holding his breath and clicking the mouse pad and now he’s here, in the middle of nowhere Georgia if he remembers his X-Files trivia correctly. 

Which means this sweet little pup is going to die in this… episode? And if he’s in the episode, that means—

“Hey! What are you doing? That’s my dog!”

Dieter’s heart pounds, heavy and fast, like he’s done way too much coke. He looks up with wide eyes and it’s unmistakable, her bright red hair and sexy scowl and the lanky handsome man attached to her hip. 

“Scully?”

Dieter watches her face twist up in confusion, and watches Mulder’s eyebrows raise with a smirk on his face as he looks between him and his partner. 

“You know this guy, Scully?”

She squints at Dieter as they walk closer. He feels very warm under her gaze. He pets Queequeg’s head for comfort.

“No, I don’t. What’s your name?”

Dieter clears his throat. 

“You don’t recognize me?”

Mulder presses his lips together, trying to hide his amused smile as he nudges Scully’s side. 

“Should I?”

“Wait… what year is it?”

Scully’s face turns from annoyed to concerned. She kneels down in front of Dieter and looks into his eyes, and her gaze is too heavy, it spears right through him. 

“It’s 1995. Are you concussed?”

“No, I don’t think so. I mean— Maybe. Probably, to be honest. It’s 1995?”

“Has been for five months, now,” Mulder supplies. 

Dieter nods. 

“Do you know where you are?”

“I think so… listen. You guys aren’t gonna believe this— well, Mulder might believe it— But I’m from the future.”

Scully’s concerned gaze turns right back to annoyed very quickly, and she stands back up to cross her arms. 

Mulder just chuckles. 

“How do you know our names?” He asks.

Dieter feels a little weird on the ground while they’re staring down at him, in a horny way, so he gently places Queequeg back on the gravel to stand up himself.

“Would you believe it if I said I’m from an alternate reality where you guys are the main characters in a cult classic sci-fi television series?”

Mulder blinks at him. Dieter shrugs with a sheepish grin.

“Honestly? That’s more believable than the time travel.”

Dieter smirks. 

“That’s such a Scully thing to say.”

“That is such a Scully thing to say,” Mulder agrees. 

“Oh my god.”

“I can prove it! I swear. C’mon, let’s get this little guy safe and sound in your cabin and I’ll prove everything.”

Mulder shrugs, and gives Scully one of his looks, the c’mon, let’s see where this goes look that Dieter’s so used to seeing. 

She just scoffs.

“Mulder, we don’t have time for this. People are dying left and right, you’re on a wild sea-monster chase, and half the town is—”

“Wait, Scully, look at this guy. He’s going to tell you another body’s been found in the lake. Well— half of a body.”

They all turn to the man running up from the docks, and sure enough, it plays out almost exactly how Dieter remembers from the episode. Scully’s very focused on the legs floating in the lake, but Mulder keeps eyeing him in a way that makes him wish he was wearing something more than just flimsy pajama pants. 

“Scully…” Mulder mumbles as they walk back toward their car, “I think we should hear him out.”

“Hear him out!? We should be shoving him in handcuffs, he’s the only suspect we have that isn’t mythical.”

“I’d be into that, actually,” Dieter says, holding his hands out toward them, wrists pressed together. 

Scully grimaces and Mulder smirks but he drapes an arm around her shoulder in a way that seems suspiciously protective. 

“There’s not enough evidence to cuff him, but we can at least keep him close and see what else we can get out of him.” 

“Mulder—”

“If anything, he can just dogsit for us.”

The way they’re talking about him like he’s not even there makes the tips of his ears burn.

“I’d love to dogsit! I miss Queequeg.”

“What do you mean you miss him? He’s right here.”

Dieter winces. 

“Actually that’s a big plot point in this episode,” Dieter whispers.

They stop at the car and Scully glares at him, and Mulder looks a little bit like he’s just brought a stray dog home without her permission. Dieter kinda likes it.

“You never told us your name,” Scully grills.

“Dieter. Dieter Bravo.”

Mulder huffs. 

“What kind of name is Dieter Bravo? Do you do adult films?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know, Fox?”

The way the giggle bubbles up out of Scully’s chest makes him preen. 

“Alright. Where do you live, Dieter?”

He winces and scratches the back of his neck.

“Los Angeles.”

“Oh brother,” Scully grumbles. 

“How did you get here then?”

“Y’know, it’s the weirdest thing. I was writing a fanfiction about the two of you and when I went to post it, I think lightning struck my house and sent me here.”

The two agents stare at him in silence for so long that Dieter has the time to question every single moment that has led up to this. He determines that this is all his therapist’s fault when Mulder finally clears his throat. 

“You can bunk with me until we get everything sorted out, alright?”

Dieter straightens up and salutes him.

“Yes, sir, Agent Mulder.”

Scully rolls her eyes and turns to open the car door for him, but Mulder smirks.

“I think I kinda like this guy, Scully.”

——

Mulder’s nice enough to let him shower and lend him spare clothes that aren’t caked in mud and grass stains, once they’re back at the cabin. He cleans up in silence trying to wrap his head around this entire pickle he’s in, and how to go about making them believe him.

He’s got his work cut out with Scully, he knows this. But he works over every bit of information he can remember from each season, each episode, to remember something that couldn’t be denied. 

They’re doing their Scully and Mulder thing when he comes out with damp hair and Mulder’s clothes on. (He definitely had to will away a half-chub at the thought of being wrapped in his things.) 

They sit around the small living room with photos and paperwork all sprawled out and Dieter feels like geeking out a little bit. This is like the world’s greatest and most interactive X-Files museum. 

“Okay. I’m going to try to do this in the best way I know how. Just— Bear with me.”

They sit back in their seats, and Dieter lifts Queequeg onto his lap to take his place on the couch. He waits for them to give him a go-ahead, but neither of them are responsive. He tries not to feel so aroused by their focused gazes. Maybe he should have jerked off in the shower, as a precaution.

“Okay then… let’s see… this is Season 3, Episode… 22? So. You guys just went through the whole Skinner thing, right? With his— his bad dreams lady killing that prostitute?”

“How do you know Skinner?”

“I told you, it’s a TV show. Skinner’s always busting your balls. Big tough assistant director business. He’s actually just a softy though, I think.”

Scully looks disinterested and a little annoyed, but Mulder’s starting to shift forward in his seat.

“What’s the show called?”

“The X-Files.”

Scully snorts. 

“How creative.”

“Okay, okay, I know. It sounds whacky. But I’ve seen the show a billion times over, I’ve been unknowingly preparing for this moment since the pilot aired.”

He takes a moment to determine what to say and how to word it before he continues.

“Okay… Well… Your first case together was that weird kid in Oregon that kept helping aliens abduct his classmates. Scully conveniently missed the UFO though. Ever the skeptic. Then… let’s see… Deep Throat turns up in the next episode. Scully, he ended up dying in your arms and his last words were trust no one.”

“Mulder, we’ve been bugged for 90 percent of the time we’ve known each other, this doesn’t mean anything.”

Dieter huffs and Mulder shrugs. 

“Keep going. Give us a deep cut, man. You gotta try harder than that.”

“When did you become the skeptic, Mulder?” 

The agent shrugs and raises his eyebrows to urge him to continue. 

“Okay… Scully, when you were at your god son’s birthday party, you told your friend that Mulder is a jerk.”

“Hey, what the hell, Scully?”

“No, I said he was just—”

“Obsessed with his work, yeah. After you called him a jerk though.”

Dieter hates to see the way Mulder’s eyebrows draw up in the middle. It’s kind of funny to see Scully so embarrassed, though. He figures he’ll keep what else she said to himself, about him being cute, because it looks like she’s praying that he doesn’t blab about it.

“You wound me, Scully.”

“Oh, yeah, and there’s the time you shot Mulder in the shoulder.”

“You’re kind of a bully, y’know?”

Scully shoves at his shoulder to prove their point, and Mulder just laughs and leans into it. 

“Do you want to know what happens in the future? Wait, if I affect the future will the show be different? I dunno how I feel about that… new X-Files episodes in 2024 would be incredible. But what if the new episodes suck, though?”

“2024? That’s what year you’re going with?” 

Dieter nods. 

“It kinda sucks. We have smartphones and streaming services and stuff but also, you wouldn’t believe who the last president was if I told you. Also there was a global pandemic. Still kinda is one, but everyone’s just ignoring it. Actually, come to think of it, you guys would thrive in 2024.”

“Do we die before then?”

“Oh, no, no, the show just finished. And then came back and then— it’s a whole thing. But neither of you die.”

“Hmm.”

Mulder hums, and Dieter knows exactly what he’s thinking. Scully too, by the faraway look on her face. Total idiots. Why couldn’t he have landed at least after the first kiss. Or even the almost-kiss?

“Well, I’m tired, and this case isn’t going to solve itself. And Queequeg needs to go potty, so, I think we’re done here.”

Dieter’s whole body feels hot, like the time he was stabbed in the chest with that epi-pen. He shoots up off the couch so fast that Queequeg yelps and hops down to cower behind Scully’s ankles.

“Wait! It’s an alligator. Literally. It’s just an ordinary alligator killing these people. And if you let Queequeg walk into the woods he’s going to get eaten and if there’s one single thing you believe me about it has to be this, okay? For Queequeg’s sake.”

Dieter’s got his hands clasped in front of him, pleading. Scully looks startled and Mulder looks awed, but he’s desperate to drive this point home. 

“…Okay. I’ll keep him close. Thank you.”

They think he’s crazy. Scully does, at least. Mulder’s just quiet, uncharacteristically so. 

“Thank you.”

“Alright,” she sighs, grabbing Queequeg’s leash and hooking him up, “goodnight guys.”

“Goodnight Scully.”

Dieter sighs and sits back down. 

“She thinks I’m insane, doesn’t she?” 

“Welcome to the club.”

Dieter chuckles and looks to Mulder. He’s still got that pensive look on his face. It suits him, all brooding with that fucking jawline and those plush lips and sad eyes. He wants to kiss him so bad. He almost says it out loud, so used to his horny musings while watching this guy on TV that his filter is a little out of whack. 

Dieter doesn’t even realize he’s staring until Mulder tilts his head at him, confused. He opens his mouth and takes a breath but the door ripping open cuts him off. 

“Mulder, there’s something in the woods; Dieter was right. I think we should check it out.”

Mulder jumps up at her beck and call and seeing it in person is even more overwhelming, how he follows her without question and trusts her, so eagerly. 

“Queequeg?”

“He’s here, can you watch him?”

Dieter nods.

“Me? Yeah, yes ma’am, Agent Scully.”

He doesn’t miss the amused look on her face just before the door slams shut behind them. 

He lies on the couch with Queequeg on his chest, enjoying the silence after the… everythingness of his day. He really wishes he could smoke some pot, but even if he could get his hands on some, he’s sure it would be weak as hell. And there’s the FBI agent thing. 

Dieter’s not sure how long he’s been staring at nothing and snuggling Queequeg when the cabin door finally opens again. 

“Did you catch the alligator?”

The eerie silence he’s met with makes him whip his head around. Scully and Mulder are staring at him. He’s pretty sure 80 percent of his X-Files fantasies have started exactly like this. 

“… We did. We caught it just in time to save Ted Bertram.”

“That’s the guy with the lake monster feet, right?”

They both nod slowly. 

Queequeg hops down from his perch on Dieter’s chest, so he sits up. 

“I told you. You guys believe me now?”

He watches as Mulder nods his head yes and Scully shakes her head no. All he can do is shrug and start wondering what’s next for him, in the year of 1995.

“Hey, do you guys need an assistant? I could tell you how to solve the next case! I think it’s the one with the mind control cable. Mulder, are you really red-green color blind? I think that was a major plot hole. How do you tell the difference between human blood and alien blood if one is red and one is green, then?”

“Mulder’s not colorblind,” Scully says. 

“Uhh… Actually, yeah. I am.”

“What? How did you pass the color vision test?”

“I’m colorblind, not an idiot. I can still tell them apart, they just look different to me than they would to you.”

“I— I can’t believe you’ve been colorblind this entire time.” 

Mulder shrugs. Then his brow quirks up.

“Why does that matter?”

“I’m not sure I should tell you. It might mess with the space-time continuum and— quantum physics, you know?”

Scully’s clearly had enough. She sighs and finally kicks off her shoes. 

“I’m grabbing a shower and clearing my head,” she says, “don’t— don’t let him out of your sight for now, Mulder.”

Mulder nods and half smiles at her. They both look pretty tired. He wants to remind them that he’s the one who traveled 29 years into the past today, but it seems like a pretty sore subject. 

They stand still and silent in the living room until Scully closes her bedroom door behind her, Queequeg in tow.

“You heard the woman. There’s a TV in my room.”

Mulder nods toward the other bedroom door and Dieter follows dutifully.

“Does it get the good channels?”

He hears Mulder chuckle and watches from behind as he sheds his jacket. He admires all those lean muscles in his back, now that he’s not wearing one of those god awful baggy suits. Maybe he should suggest a tailor, he thinks, and wonders if the later seasons would be filled with more eye candy if he did. 

“You know about that?”

“All the video tapes that aren’t yours? And the hotline lady that leaves messages on your answering machine? Yeah. You wouldn’t believe what porn is like in thirty years. You’re gonna love it.”

Dieter’s torn between looking away and staring shamelessly while Mulder unbuttons his fly. He settles for nonchalant, hoping his eyes don’t pop out of their sockets like a cartoon character when he notices the outline of Little Mulder. This is even better than the gray sweatpants in the Humbug episode. 

“I was hoping to kick the habit in thirty years’ time, actually.”

Dieter shrugs and his staring contest with Mulder’s crotch ends abruptly as he slides into a pair of pajama pants. Which is weird, because usually Mulder sleeps in his underwear. Must be the fact that he’s sharing a cabin with Scully.

Mulder throws Dieter the remote and settles onto the bed. There’s no couch in here, not even a cuck chair, so Dieter settles next to him. His whole body burns. God, if 20-year-old Dieter could see himself now, he’d ruin the pants he was wearing. 

The silence feels a little awkward, so he turns the TV on. Nineties TV is so simple. It’s easy to settle on a channel playing Invasion of the Body Snatchers and sink into the mattress under him. 

It only takes a few moments before he realizes Mulder’s staring holes into the side of his face. 

“What’s up?” Dieter asks. 

There’s so little room between them it’s making Dieter’s entire body throb along with his pulse. 

“You’re telling the truth.”

Dieter nods and tries to give him a reassuring smile. Mulder sighs and throws his head back onto the pillow. His eyes close and his brows furrow and his jaw does that sexy clenching thing again. It’s all Dieter can do to not bite at it and soothe the sting with his tongue. 

“What happens to us?”

Dieter clears his throat.

“I mean— I know, you shouldn’t affect the future, yadda yadda. I just…”

Fuck it, Dieter thinks, if I’ve already solved the case way before the episode is supposed to end, I’ve thrown everything off anyway.

“You end up together.”

Mulder lets out a big, long breath. His face instantly relaxes. His hands flex by his sides and Dieter goes out on a big giant limb and grabs one of them.

Mulder starts at the touch, but lets it happen. 

“When?”

“Way later than you should have shacked up, in my opinion.”

He grumbles. 

“My opinion, too.”

“You should make a move, then. I’m pretty sure at this point she’s only waiting for you to make a move.”

“And how do you know that?”

“Oh, it’s a whole thing involving a shapeshifting guy with a tail. Trust me. She’s got it just as bad.”

They’re still holding hands. Mulder hasn’t moved a muscle. An idea so bright pops into Dieter’s head that he’s certain there’s a lightbulb floating above him. 

“You know when you met Bambi on that cockroach case?”

Mulder nods. 

“She was so jealous. Didn’t you pick up on that?”

“I— I thought so. But I also thought she was just annoyed with me, y’know, how she usually is.”

Dieter squeezes his hand. 

“She was annoyed because she’s into you, dude. It was envy. Very, very clearly.”

He hums. 

“So? What now? Do I apologize for something that happened months ago? You apparently know Scully as well as I do, how do you think that’ll blow over? ‘Hey, sorry I made you jealous because you have a big fat crush on me.’ She’d deck me.”

Dieter shakes his head. 

“No, man. You need to make her jealous. So jealous she can’t deny why she’s upset with you.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, and I mean, why not just start right now, y’know? Get a head start on the whole thing. I mean, you’re here, I’m here, there’s only one bed…”

“If I didn’t know any better I’d think you were coming onto me.”

“I would love to come on you, actually.”

Mulder laughs, and Dieter deflates a little at the sound. But when he goes to pull his hand away, Mulder cinches it in his own. 

“Dieter…”

“Mulder.”

“We’re doing this, then?”

Dieter nods like an overexcited puppy wagging its tail. Oh my god. Oh my god. Fox Mulder in his prime, how fucking lucky can one guy be?

Mulder glances at the door to make sure it’s open. The faint sound of running water can be heard from Scully’s room, and he thinks he smells her shampoo wafting out with the steam. 

Like two nervous teenagers, they shift to face one another. Dieter brings their joined hands together on his own hip. Mulder’s palm is warm on his skin where his shirt rides high, and it makes Dieter’s breath hitch. 

Slowly, Dieter urges him to keep his hand still with a squeeze before mirroring Mulder’s, creeping his hand under his shirt and feeling his solid, trim waist.

Mulder hums into his touch and Dieter realizes this man is possibly just as touch-starved as he is. He starts swirling circles into his skin with his thumb and inches forward, but those beautiful hazel eyes hold apprehension in their timid gaze.

“What if this blows up in my face?” Mulder whispers.

“It won’t. I guarantee it. I’ll make sure of it. Trust me?”

A soft grin tugs at Mulder’s lips and he nods, and it’s all the permission Dieter needs.

Christ, his lips are soft. Soft and plush and exactly how Dieter imagined only a million times better. He doesn’t think he’s ever felt this good, not on any drug, and they’re just kissing. 

It’s chaste until he feels Mulder’s tongue prod at the seam of his lips and then it’s filthy. As soon as Dieter opens his mouth to him, Mulder takes it with a grunt. His blunt nails dig into the soft flesh at Dieter’s hip as he traces the arch of his bottom teeth. Dieter tries to keep up, but his brain constantly shorts out at the thought of who’s tongue is poking and prodding around in his mouth. 

He’s a great fucking kisser. His tongue tickles the roof of Dieter’s mouth and it makes him shiver, makes his cock swell against his borrowed sweatpants, against Mulder. 

He doesn’t seem deterred. Quite the opposite actually. He tugs Dieter by the hip and presses his own solid prick right up against Dieter’s, and they both groan into the sloppy kiss. 

“It’s been quite a while,” Mulder says. 

Dieter can’t tell if the huffed little laugh is directed toward the eager way he chases Mulder’s lips, or toward himself for being out of practice. He likes the thought of either. 

“For me, too,” Dieter mumbles. 

Mulder hums and rolls his hips. As their dicks press together and twitch, Dieter decides they are not naked enough by any means. 

He presses his hand up, up, bringing Mulder’s shirt with it and grabbing a handful of his sturdy pec, admiring how stiff it feels under his palm when his lungs inflate. He gets with the program, and Dieter pulls his own shirt over his head, then promptly salivates over all the lean muscles and wiry hair and pale skin in front of him. 

“Fuck,” he breathes.

It’s not until Mulder’s breath hitches does he realize he might actually be into this, not just their plan, but being here in bed with Dieter. His pretty hazel eyes are dark now, pupils blown out, and his chest is heaving, and the tent in his pajama pants is far too enticing to resist. 

Dieter reaches down to cup him through the flannel material and Mulder gasps and falls flat onto his back. His eyes close and his jaw hangs open like an invitation. Dieter wiggles and shifts to press up against the length of his side and to finally press his face into the crook of his neck. 

The hint of aftershave that’s been teasing him all day is now overwhelming his senses, sharp and spicy. Dieter is delighted to know that his skin tastes just as delicious as it smells, salty and heady under his tongue. Mulder’s prick throbs in his grasp and Dieter’s torn between wanting to tease him over his pants and feel the hot skin of his cock in his palm. 

“Feels good,” Mulder whispers. 

“Yeah?”

“Mmm.”

Dieter nips at his racing pulse first, then down to his jaw and the impressive five o’clock shadow he’s always been jealous and in awe of. The prickly hairs there tickle his tongue and lips, and he grinds into the outside of Mulder’s thigh for a bit of relief. 

“You think about Scully doing this?” 

The way Mulder’s dick jolts in his grasp is answer enough, but he speaks up anyway. 

“Yes.”

The admission is so hot it makes Dieter’s brain spin. He himself has thought of it many times before, Scully torturing him with teasing touches, her little sharp canines digging into his flesh, but the thought of Mulder thinking of it too… 

All those heated glances Dieter’s mulled over, he wonders how many of those were fueled by Mulder’s dirty thoughts about her. Wonders how many times he’s seen a flash of something in Mulder’s gaze and it’s been him fantasizing about getting Scully in bed. 

Dieter huffs against the heated skin of Mulder’s neck before he pulls back. His head his thrown back, eyes squeezed shut, and he’s fucking gorgeous. He lightens his touch, teases the underside of his cock with one fingertip, and delights in the pleasure scrawled across Mulder’s face. 

“How often?”

Mulder’s gravelly chuckle is cut off by a low groan when Dieter presses against his sac over his pajamas. 

“All the time,” he confesses, “every time.”

“In the office?”

Mulder whimpers and nods his head. 

“On the job, in the field?”

“God yes.”

Dieter hums, squeezes his balls to goad him into continuing.

“When she— when she’s so serious, it’s hot. She’s so smart, it turns me on.”

Dieter smirks. He completely sympathizes.

“You like it when she debunks you?”

Mulder whines and nods his head again. Dieter tries his hardest not to react to the sound of the water shutting off across the cabin, or Scully’s door creaking open. Instead, he shoves his hand down Mulder’s pants and hopes to god he keeps his eyes closed, hopes Scully’s ever present need to call out his name is tampered down when she inevitably hears him talking. 

Mulder gasps and raises his hips into the circle of Dieter’s hand, and his brows furrow as he shuts his eyes even tighter.

“Why?”

Mulder moans. 

“Because she— she balances me out. Makes me feel even. Whole.”

Dieter chuckles. 

“Aww, does she complete you, Foxy?” 

He scoffs but bites his lip when Dieter thumbs at his head and spreads his slick, sticky pre-cum all around. 

“Tell me what you think about, Mulder.”

His breathing is so ragged that Dieter thinks he should maybe be concerned. But he can tell things are about to come to a head, can hear Scully’s little footsteps inching closer to their room, pointedly quiet. 

“Her, I think about her body against mine. And touching her.”

As if on cue, fiery red hair peeks through the door frame. Dieter’s got his free hand up and a finger at his lips before Scully’s face can even twist up in concern and shock. He gives her a pleading look as she stands stock-still and wide-eyed. 

“Where would you touch Scully, if she was here?”

“Everywhere. Anywhere she wants me to. I just wanna make her feel good.”

Dieter turns his head back to Mulder to confirm that his eyes are still closed. They are, positively scrunched shut as sweat threatens to penetrate his brows and slip into his eyes.

“Do you wanna taste her?” 

Mulder’s breath hitches and his cock pulses and dribbles more against Dieter’s hand. 

“Yes, yes, so bad. I think about it every time I— every time I touch myself.”

Dieter turns back to Scully. Her hair is damp and her silky pajama top is unbuttoned more than it was just a moment ago. It just barely hides her heaving chest and he has a hard time not giving her away when he realizes his plan is working. Her lips are parted and wet, like she’s licked them, and god he really fucking hopes they don’t kick him out once this all comes to a head. 

“You do?” 

“Mm-hmm,” Mulder nods, “I could spend the rest of my life down there and die happy.”

Dieter chuckles then, and Mulder does too, but he opens his eyes. It takes him just a second to blink and adjust but, ever the vigilant one, his eyes jolt toward the now closed bedroom door and Scully standing in front of it. His body goes stiff and still, aside from his prick, which twitches wildly in Dieter’s grasp. 

Mulder’s voice cracks amusingly around Scully’s name. She crosses her arms and lifts one of her perfectly shaped eyebrows as she shuffles to the foot of the bed. 

“Boys.”

Dieter smiles sheepishly at her. Mulder’s staring and gaping like a fish out of water, all tense now, one elbow on the bed so he can prop himself up. Dieter doesn’t miss the way Scully’s eyes trace over his naked torso or the activity going on at the front of Mulder’s pajamas. 

“Is it true, Mulder?”

He’s nodding his head before she can even finish the question. 

“Yeah, Scully. I—” 

He cuts himself off when Dieter squeezes and strokes him, and Scully’s gaze is locked on the movement.

“It certainly feels like the truth,” Dieter supplies. 

Mulder whimpers under him and Dieter swears he sees Scully’s ears perk up at the sound, like some kind of predator. 

“Mulder, c’mere.”

God, the way he follows so readily, like he always does, it warms Dieter’s heart just as much as it makes his dick throb. He kneels on the edge of the bed right in front of her. His cock is protruding obscenely out in front of him, but Scully doesn’t seem to care about that. 

No, she’s focused on his face instead where it’s settled gently between her dainty hands. God, the way they look at each other is so fucking intoxicating. Dieter’s bound by it, physically stuck on the mattress as he watches. 

Her brows furrow slightly as she looks at him, but Mulder’s face is slack, almost dazed as he meets her eyes. 

“What did he tell you, Mulder?” 

Mulder shifts awkwardly from knee to knee. His mouth opens and closes a few times, and she giggles under her breath. 

“You’re not in trouble.”

Dieter laughs, and god, it’s so fucking weird. It’s like he’s watching a director’s cut. 

Mulder sighs, though. 

“We end up together, Scully. You and me. And I— I believe it. I believed it long before this guy showed up, and it… Out of everything I believe, everything I’ve been working toward… it might be the only belief I have that keeps me going.”

Scully’s gaze grows soft as his confession, and Dieter refrains from squealing in delight at how sweet Mulder sounds and how Mulder it all is.

“Why now, then?”

Mulder huffs and tries to turn away, but she keeps his face tight in her grasp. His cheeks are so pink. 

“Just worked up the guts, I guess.”

Dieter doesn’t miss the quick flicker of Scully’s eyes down to his lips. His fingers twitch with the urge to smash their faces together. 

She sighs and brushes some errant strands of hair from Mulder’s forehead. 

“Well,” she says, and her voice wavers with a heavy breath, “I’m glad one of us did.”

Mulder visibly melts. His shoulders slump and he leans forward into her touch. His face loses all of that tension from earlier, and his lips look loose when Scully’s own finally brushes against them. 

He’s so gentle with her, in a way he definitely wasn’t with Dieter. His hands are nearly hovering over her with how lightly he places them on her waist. His lips stay slack and still as he lets her control the kiss. The only thing giving him away is the comical bobbing of his prick disrupting the front of his pajamas, and there’s no way Dieter can blame him for that. 

One of Scully’s hands tangles in Mulder’s hair and produces a beautiful, high pitched sound that Dieter and Scully both react to. 

She pulls away. Mulder chases her lips, but her grip on his hair tightens. He curses under his breath with a face more flushed than Dieter’s ever seen on him.

Her eyes flicker over to Dieter and he feels like a deer in headlights. Why is he still here? Is this weird, is he being a creep for staying? 

“C’mere,” she mumbles, tipping her head to urge him to kneel right beside Mulder on the bed. 

He does, of course he does. He wants to be good for her, for them.

He kneels, shoulder to shoulder with the man panting beside him. He grasps his hands behind his back and waits patiently as she looks the both of them over. 

“What did I walk in on, Dieter?”

The way his name sounds coming from her low, rasping voice makes his spine tingle. 

“It was my idea, Agent Scully. I was trying to make you jealous. I’m sorry.”

She clicks her tongue and the noise makes his cock throb. 

“And you went along with this plan?”

She looks back to Mulder and Dieter shivers. He instantly misses the warmth of her gaze. 

“I— yeah. I did... It worked, didn’t it?”

Scully’s eyes narrow, and Dieter can’t tell if Mulder’s an idiot or a genius for riling her up. He should have known Fox Mulder would be a brat. He thinks if he plays his cards right, maybe Scully will forget the whole plot and he can be her good boy while Mulder gets punished for his smart mouth. 

A whimper falling from Mulder’s parted lips knocks him out of his daze and he notices Scully’s grip all tight in his floppy hair. 

Fuck, he wishes that were him. Maybe he should mouth off too, maybe then he’ll get the attention that he craves. 

“Get on your knees, Mulder.”

“I am on my knees.”

Dieter gasps as Scully tugs on his hair and leaves him no choice but to scramble off of the edge of the bed, lest she rip all that perfectly coiffed hair out of his head. His shoulders rise and fall with baited breath when he’s finally sunken his knees on the gaudy rug on the hardwood floors. Dieter whimpers and no one’s even touching him. 

“You too, time bandit.”

Dieter gets whiplash with how quickly he gets on his knees for her. He breathes out a labored ‘yes ma’am’ and Mulder throws him a look of disbelief. He shrugs, what can I say?

They’re both rock hard for her, on the floor, staring up at her. She looks like an angel, or the devil, or maybe like God herself. Her breathing is suspiciously calm compared to their own, even though her nipples create tantalizing nubs at the front of her silk pajamas. 

“Keep your eyes forward, both of you.”

Dieter nods at her commanding voice. He wants to look to Mulder for— direction? Comfort? Some kind of trauma bonding? But he doesn’t. He wants to be good. 

He hears Scully behind them, bed creaking under her weight, sheets ruffling underneath her. There’s a pregnant pause where all of their heavy breathing can be heard and the anticipation is so much Dieter might explode on the spot. 

“Strip.”

Twin breaths release from both Dieter and Mulder and he swears he hears her giggle behind them. He’s quick to comply, tugging at the drawstring of Mulder’s sweats he’s borrowed and awkwardly shuffling them off while he tries to stay kneeling. 

He notices Mulder still motionless beside him. 

“Scully…”

Idiot, Dieter thinks. 

“Good boy, Dieter, doing exactly what I say.”

He can’t help the satisfied smirk that twists his lips up, or the way the back of his neck burns at the praise. In his peripheral, Mulder hastily shucks his pajama pants. 

He has a pretty cock. Dieter knew he would. Everything else about him is pretty. It’s long and lean, just like he is, and the upward curve of it makes him jealous. It’s going to feel so good for Scully, if she lets him fuck her. 

There’s more shuffling behind them, and he flinches when a pair of satin pajama pants land on the floor in front of both of them. He has to dig his nails into his thighs to resist the urge to turn around. Something nudges his arm. He doesn’t dare move his head, but from the corner of his eye he sees a pale, smooth leg and his breath catches in his chest. 

He hears Mulder curse under his breath and can nearly feel the tension in him vibrating out energy into this rickety old cabin. Dieter feels a gentle hand in the short curls at the back of his neck just a moment later, her nails scraping his scalp just right, and his leg may just start shaking like a dog’s.

“You want to taste me, Mulder?”

“Fuck yes, Scully, please.”

She hums. Her hand in Dieter’s hair stills. 

“Go on, then.”

A lightning flash of movement stirs beside him, but Dieter keeps dutifully still. He’s twitching in anticipation but he doesn’t dare turn to look. 

Scully sighs, all breathy and high-pitched, and Dieter’s never heard a more beautiful sound. Then Mulder whimpers, and it’s muffled by Scully’s thighs, and there’s a wet smacking noise and Dieter thinks this obscene music could be a platinum album. 

Scully gasps, and Mulder groans, and Dieter aches. He can smell her, a sharp and tangy scent of arousal underneath the flowery soap and shampoo. Her hand is still in his hair and it hasn’t moved since Mulder got down to business and he feels forgotten about but in the best way.

“Dieter, honey, you can watch.”

He breathes out with relief and shifts to get a good look of the action. She’s perfect, gorgeous, breathtaking. Her silky pajama top hangs open on her pointy shoulders and her perky breasts rise and fall with her breathing. Her nipples are a brownish pink that stand erect in a way that makes his mouth water like a leaky faucet.

Her toned, porcelain legs spread wide enough to accommodate Mulder’s shoulders. The man is greedy, and Dieter can’t see a thing aside from the triangle of copper curls on her mound. He wants to nuzzle them so bad, he wants to feel them tickle his nose, smell the arousal that catches there. 

“You taste so good.”

Mulder’s words are squished against her center. Dieter whimpers at the thought of her flavor. Her hand soothes through his hair. He wants to touch his cock so badly, but Scully hasn’t told him that he’s allowed. Instead, he balls his hands into fists and bites his lip. 

Scully moans, and Dieter watches her face fall slack with pleasure. 

“Feels good, just like that.”

Dieter can’t help the sounds that eke out of him, desperate and a little pained. He’s so hard that he’s lightheaded, but Scully’s firm grip on his hair grounds him just enough. 

“Don’t be selfish, Mulder.”

He makes a questioning noise between her legs. He looks up at her with wide eyes, mouth open, tongue out and flat against her slit. 

“Give him a taste.”

“Oh fuck, please.”

Dieter can see the reluctance in Mulder’s motions, like he’s struggling to break free from her orbit. He looks so fucking hot, absolutely wrecked. His plush lips are red and shiny and his chin is dripping and his pupils completely usurp his irises. Drunk, drugged off of Scully.

He leans away from Dieter to make room between her legs but she tugs his hair. Then she tugs Dieter’s hair, and their noses are bumping together before either man can put two and two together. 

He can smell her on his breath. It’s so intoxicating that he loses any crumb of decorum he may have had left. He licks a broad swipe from Mulder’s chin to his Cupid’s bow and groans at all the slick he’s able to lap up. 

Mulder’s mouth opens up to him, and he chases the taste of her off of his tongue, his teeth, his gums, anywhere. They’re both panting into each other's mouths, exchanging breath. Dieter feels a big, strong hand on his jaw and neck, and the contrast to Scully’s smaller, gentler touch has him leaking all over the rug underneath him. He feels like he’s drowning, and he just wants to go even deeper, like even death won’t be enough. 

He waits for Scully to say anything about Mulder touching him. When she doesn’t, he takes it as permission to reach up and find purchase in his hair. His fingers tingle when they find Scully’s still there, and his whole body shudders and twitches when she links her fingers with his. 

“You want more?” 

It’s depraved, the way they both pull away from the kiss so fast. Dieter’s nodding and looking toward her, her glistening cunt, her smooth skin and her mischievous gaze. 

“Please, Scully,” Mulder mumbles. 

His head lolls back against Scully’s thigh so he can look up at her. He looks like he’s just run a marathon, the way sweat is beading at his forehead and his chest is heaving. 

“Yes, please, Agent Scully.”

She chuckles. The sound is torture and it’s bliss. She ruffles Dieter’s hair and he hums and leans into it. Mulder whimpers at the lack of attention, so she ruffles his too. 

And then she spreads her thighs even wider, like, gymnast levels of flexibility, and both of their eyes are drawn to the way her lips spread open in invitation, puffy red, her clit all swollen while she drips onto the old comforter under her.

“Think you can share?”

Dieter curses. Mulder whimpers against her thigh.

“Play nice, boys.”

Mulder looks at him with a heated gaze that makes him a little bit scared but really really horny.

“Yes ma’am,” Dieter says, but he’s staring at Mulder. 

Be good, he’s trying to tell him through telepathy, we’ll get rewarded if you’re just good.

Mulder glances up at her, bats his pretty little eyes, and licks his slick lips. 

“Yes ma’am.”

It sounds more teasing than anything, but Dieter doesn’t miss the way she squirms when Mulder says it. He just has that effect, doesn’t he? Such a charming little shit. 

He and Dieter look at each other, assessing, when Mulder finally goes low. It’s a little bit awkward, at first. Dieter’s jaw prods at Mulder’s sharp cheekbone as they find a good position. 

He traces around her clit with a pointed tongue, delicately, so eager to work her up. He can hear Mulder’s tongue fucking in and out of her, a wet cacophony of sounds that make his ears ring. So much so that he nearly doesn’t catch the sounds of Scully’s breath hitching, her soft little mewls as her hips cant up into their faces. 

He’s hyper focused on her pleasure, so lost in it that he doesn’t even recognize how turned on he is until a heavy, warm hand wraps around his cock and he nearly blows his load. His tongue presses broadly against Scully’s clit when he groans. She curses and her hand tightens in his hair and it’s so much. 

He reaches out for anything, really, but Mulder’s cock is there, hard and proud and twitching when he wraps his hand around him. He finds solace in the fact that he’s leaking just as much as Dieter is, sticky and slick all the way down the underside of his shaft. His noises get breathier, and his tongue seeks higher ground just as Dieter’s travels lower. They lap at her folds together, briefly, trapping them between their tongues, trading their tastes as she whines above them. Dieter doesn’t even realize his free hand has grasped Scully’s slender hip until she squirms against it. 

All of a sudden, Dieter feels her go stiff under his grasp. Her hand tightens in his hair just shy of enough to make him lose it. She lets out stuttered little sounds and Mulder hums below him. 

“You like that, Scully?”

“Oh my god, Mulder.”

He groans and shifts and she begs and Dieter’s aroused haze clears enough to make him realize that he’s eating her ass. 

He makes a pained sound himself and sucks Scully’s throbbing clit into his mouth. She shakes, and her stiff body loosens just enough for her to roll her hips into them. 

“Don’t— don’t stop, I’m so close. I’m gonna come.”

Neither of them would dream of stopping, not for anything. Dieter works his tongue in pulses against her clit as he suckles, and he feels Mulder slip a finger in between them just as she cries out, loud, and falls apart against their tongues. 

Dieter drinks up the way her clit jerks and pulses between his lips. He drinks up her gasps and breathy noises. He drinks up the way Mulder’s cock mirrors his own, twitching with pure arousal at the way she’s coming just for them.

They’re both humming satisfied sounds as they work her through it. Their hands on each other’s cocks have stilled completely, just a loose grasp as they coax every last bit of pleasure out of her until she’s lax and shying away from them. 

Dieter pulls away first. He watches with a sticky feeling in his chest at the way Mulder kisses her holes gently, and the skin around them, nuzzling between her thighs so tenderly. Both his hands free, now, Mulder soothes them up the outside of her thighs as they tremble in her aftershocks. 

Mulder’s babbling, Dieter realizes, once the ringing in his ears finally subsides. Just under his breath, a chant, over and over.

“So perfect, Scully, thank you, thank you, Jesus Christ, Scully…”

Dieter settles back on his heels to keep gazing at them. Scully’s hands both pet through his hair as he leaves wet kisses that make her pale thighs glisten in the dim cabin lighting. He’s panting harder than she is, and his prick dribbles and twitches, and he looks up at her through misty eyes. 

“Oh, Mulder,” she sighs.

She bends down at the same time he arches up and their lips meet in a kiss so blindingly passionate that Dieter debates whether or not he should look away. Only for a split second though. Because Scully moans into his mouth and licks herself out of it and Dieter grabs his throbbing dick at the base to chill himself out. 

Mulder’s fingers run through her damp hair so gently, but his jaw works and his mouth takes from her in stark contrast. They look so goddamn good together, it’s insane. He’s torn between holding off to see how this plays out, or coming all over himself in three strokes or less as he watches them together. 

“Come up here, Mulder.”

Her voice is intoxicating, it sounds so fucked out and blissful. She shuffles up the bed some and Mulder chases her, always touching at some point, until she’s lying back and he’s covering her body with his own. 

He dwarfs her. It’s cute, in the show, the way she’s always looking up at him with a craned neck. Now, it’s just filthy, how Mulder’s cock looks so fucking huge lying hard against her small frame. The way he has to scrunch himself up to kiss her so his prick doesn’t go anywhere it’s not supposed to, yet. The way her tiny feet rub up and down Mulder’s calves, only half their size. 

The way his hand eclipses her face when he cradles it and pulls away. How his thumb sweeps so easily from her lips to her cheekbone as he sighs. 

“Scully…”

She hums and closes her eyes and smiles, a sated and relieved grin that makes her look so serenely beautiful. 

“I know, Mulder,” she sighs, “me too.”

Dieter huffs. Chris Carter himself couldn’t have created a more Mulder and Scully-esque love confession. It’s precious. He might cry. 

Unfortunately, the sound makes them both look over. Scully’s all relaxed but Mulder’s hackles are all raised, like he’s been caught doing something he shouldn’t. Dieter slowly moves his hand away from his leaking cock and feels himself blush from his face down to his nipples. 

He’s caught in their crosshairs, stuck, eerily still and silent. Should he offer to leave? He really doesn’t want to leave. Maybe he can just peek through the keyhole of the door and leave them to it. 

“You too, Dieter,” Scully says, “get up here.”

Relief floods through him and makes his limbs all tingly. He’s nervous as he stands, gently making his way to the side of the bed and settling one knee on, then the other. Mulder shifts to the opposite side of Scully, their legs still tangled, as he watches Dieter with emotion he can’t quite put a name to. 

Dieter practically purrs when he slides right into their space. His cock drags a sticky design onto Scully’s smooth thigh and he apologizes, but she just chuckles and gently scratches her nails along his scalp. 

“Are you both going to be good for me?”

The tone of her voice makes them both shiver. Mulder huffs out a laugh but Dieter gasps as she tugs a little at his messy, sweaty curls. 

“Yes ma’am, Agent Scully.”

Dieter’s voice completely betrays him. He’s so turned on. There’s so much blood pumping to his cock that there’s a real and serious threat of him passing out. He hides his face in her shoulder and tries to even out his breathing and not hump her leg like an unruly dog. 

“I’ll be good for you, Scully.”

Mulder sounds a lot more in control. His deep, syrupy voice is just shy of even, only cracking on the second syllable of her name. Dieter feels the way she starts giggling before he hears it, her shoulders jostling with it. 

“You’re going to play by the rules, Mulder?”

He chuckles and it sounds dark, and Dieter opens his eyes to watch him smirk that irresistible smirk. 

“Hell, Scully, I’d write the rules over and over on the chalkboard to keep this going.”

She rolls her eyes at him, but she’s still grinning. His eyes flicker to her lips and there’s no hesitation this time when they kiss again. It’s tame and loose, until Scully wraps her dainty hand around his cock and he groans. Dieter matches his sound, and he just can’t help it, he rolls his hips into Scully’s thigh as he watches Mulder melt into a puddle against her. She bites at his plush bottom lip before she pulls back. 

“Fuck me, then.”

“Jesus,” they both say in unison. 

Scully bites her lip to keep in her giggles and it’s cute and debauched and insane. She’s insane. She’s going to kill them both, and Dieter’s going to return to his reality with 8 less seasons of The X-Files, and a season finale where Scully gets locked up for double homicide.

Mulder shuffles to straddle her. Dieter watches his heavy eyelids flutter and his jaw hang open and knows he likely looks the same. His cock twitches heavily where it hangs below him, and Scully teases the underside of it with her fingertips. He shivers, and so does Dieter, where he rocks his hips gently into Scully’s smooth skin. 

“You’re sure, Scully?” 

Dieter turns away and hides his heated face in the duvet. It’s too tender and raw and he doesn’t deserve to watch them love each other like this. 

“Positive, Mulder.”

He hears them kissing, wet, smacking sounds that give Dieter goosebumps. And then a whimper, a huff, muffled into Scully’s mouth and he drags his face away from its hiding spot. 

Mulder’s inching inside of her slowly, so slowly, with patience Dieter couldn’t even dream of. He cranes his neck to watch her take him, inch by inch. She looks so tight, and he bets she is, if the way Mulder’s eyes are squeezed shut is any indication.

Scully’s head tips back and breaks their kiss. Her eyes roll into the back of her head before she closes them. Her chest is heaving now with shallow breaths, her nipples taut and inviting.

“Oh my god,” she whispers. 

Mulder’s hips stay flush once he’s all the way in and he pants too. It looks like it takes all the strength he has to just flutter his eyes open and look down at her. His brows furrow and he licks his lips and gasps. 

“Scully,” he whines. 

She smirks, and christ, Dieter knows she’s clenching around him like a menace. Poor Mulder. He’s got the restraint of a god, he thinks, Dieter wouldn’t have made it even halfway inside of her. 

She soothes him by brushing the hair from his forehead, all damp with sweat. She does the same to Dieter and he hums as her fingertips massage his scalp. 

Mulder pulls out just as slowly as he entered her. She‘s soaked. He can hear it so well in the stilted silence of the room. When he pushes back in, she sighs and tightens her fist in Dieter’s hair and he needs something. He rocks against her again, and again, and the steady friction makes him gasp. 

Her hand slides down to the back of his neck and guides him to her breast. His cock throbs, deliciously trapped between his stomach and her silky skin. His tongue tests the waters, swirling around the pronounced peak of her nipple. When she sighs and arches into it, he takes it into his mouth and sucks. 

The noises she’s making are perfect. High pitched, breathy, needy. She’s letting herself go to Dieter and Mulder and it’s gorgeous. He presses his cock against her even harder and closes his eyes and whines around the bud in his mouth. 

Mulder’s starting to pick up the pace. Dieter can tell by the way her breast is jiggling just slightly under his mouth. And the sounds, god, the filthy slick sounds coming from her cunt. He’s leaking all over her just thinking about what it must feel like, how snugly Mulder must fit inside of her, how warm it is. 

As if Mulder could read his mind, he gasps out and his hips stutter against her. 

“It’s so good, Scully.”

Scully arches her back to grind down onto him and moans his name and tells him she needs more and Dieter bites down on her tender skin. 

She jolts and tugs his hair and curses and he looks up at her as he soothes it with his tongue. 

She’s the poster girl of pleasure. Her face is twisted with it, every beautiful feature dripping with tension. The length of her neck is so apparent with her head thrown back, and her skin is pink and looks hot to the touch. She begins to bounce when Mulder fucks her faster and harder. Dieter wants to do something, anything to make her feel good. 

He replaces his mouth with his hand, squeezing her flesh and teasing her nipple with his fingertips. He trails kisses up her chest, little love bites and suction until he reaches just below her ear. Her pulse is fluttering rapidly under his tongue, and she keens just as she turns her head and presses their lips together. 

They’re kissing. He’s kissing Scully. Oh god, her lips are so fucking soft against his. Her tongue ripples in his mouth and it tastes so good, minty with a hint of her arousal straight from Mulder’s lips. He whines and rolls his hips against her like he’s in heat, and he’s so close, and he wonders if she’d be mad if he came all over her warm, smooth, freshly showered skin. 

She jolts against him, against them, and bites down on Dieter’s lip with an almost pained noise. She turns away from Dieter and they both look to Mulder, who’s circling her puffy clit with his thumb as he fucks her. 

He’s looking to her for direction with a glazed expression. He looks like he’s hanging by a thread. 

“Here,” she whispers, and takes two of her fingers into her own mouth. 

Christ. The way her lips look wrapped around her two digits is sinful and debauched. Mulder must think the same, because he grabs her wrist and makes her stop. 

Dieter holds his breath as he waits for his next move. Is he going to pin her arms to the bed? Is he going to stretch them over her head and make her squirm on his cock, make her beg? 

It’s sweeter than that. Of course it is, with these two. Mulder brings her hand to his lips and kisses her palm, and then her knuckles. She sighs his name, and watches Mulder smile.

That soft, dopey smile gets an edge to it. 

“Let me, please,” he whispers. 

Dieter only gets the chance to be confused for half a second when he slips those two fingers into his own mouth. 

Scully gasps and moans and wiggles against him. Fuck, it’s beautiful. Mulder’s full lips take her all the way to the last knuckle and he hollows his cheeks as he sucks them. Scully’s hips squirm and rock and the way she moves against him is a sight. Mulder groans when Scully begins to thrust her fingers in and out, just a little, not enough to choke him but enough to make him close his eyes and sigh and start slowly fucking her again. 

They leave his mouth all wet and shiny. Mulder’s tongue tries to follow them and it makes Scully huff out a weak laugh. 

“You’re too good at that, Mulder.”

He hums, tries to hide his sheepish smile by ducking his head. But Scully grips his chin with her wet fingers to prevent it. His eyes struggle to focus on her, Dieter notices. He can’t blame him, it’s like staring into the sun. 

“Why don’t you show off to your little time traveler, huh?”

He opens his mouth, but no words come out. His eyes dart nervously from Scully to Dieter. 

“I— what?”

“Don’t be dense. Make him come. Make me come. You can multitask, can’t you?”

Dieter lies as still as the dead, afraid that if he moves maybe Mulder will snap out of this horny daze and tell him to get lost. He wouldn’t blame him one bit, either, but god he really wants to see this man’s lips wrapped around his cock. 

Scully chuckles at Mulder’s frozen stature. Or maybe she’s chuckling at the way Dieter’s heartbeat is pulsing through his dick against her thigh, dribbling all over it. 

“I bet you’re so good at it,” she continues to tease him, “with these pretty lips?” 

Mulder huffs and squirms when she rubs the pads of her wet fingers against his mouth. His tongue peeks out to taste them, coax them back inside him, but she doesn’t let him. 

“For me, Mulder?”

And Dieter can’t help but grin, because he’s never seen such a visceral loss of resolve so clearly before. Mulder closes his eyes and whines and nods his head. 

Scully makes a satisfied little noise, and her free hand sneaks down to squeeze Dieter’s slick cock, and he has to bite his own lip really hard to keep from losing it before the fun even begins. 

Then there’s some awkward repositioning and shuffling, mostly on his end. He kneels just above Scully’s head, and when he looks down she’s grinning like the Cheshire Cat from under his cock. He has to reach down to collect some of the pre-cum oozing out of him to keep it from dripping onto her gorgeous face, but she grabs his wrist and licks it from his fingers anyway. 

And then there’s Mulder, who’s slowly thrusting in and out of his partner like it’s second-nature, like auto-pilot, as he surveys the scene in front of him. 

“Mulder,” Scully mumbles. 

The deep, breathy, commanding tone of her voice makes Dieter shiver. 

“Yeah, Scully?”

“Make us come. Then you can.”

He groans, and his hips stutter then slam into her. Dieter’s torn between looking at the blissed-out look on Mulder’s face or the mischievous look in Scully’s eyes. 

“Are you— are you sure?” Dieter asks. 

Like an idiot, looking a gift horse in the mouth. But how can he not? They’re so perfect, so made for each other, and he’s just some weird fucking guy. 

But then Mulder’s expression turns into something darker, determined, and he nods with glassy eyes. 

“C’mon, McFly.”

And that’s all the encouragement Dieter needs, really. He widens his knees to line his cock up with those shiny, plush lips. Mulder gives Scully one last glance before he’s craning his neck forward and closing his eyes. 

Scully and Dieter gasp at precisely the same time, just as Mulder’s tongue swipes at his frenulum. Dieter’s eyes lose focus as he watches Mulder open his mouth wider, then looks past to see Scully’s icy blue gaze fixated on everything going on above her. It’s like an erotic kaleidoscope, the way they’re all blending together in pleasure. 

He suckles on Dieter’s head, a little too hard, but he thinks it might be on purpose. He hisses and grabs Mulder’s hair in one clammy, shaking hand. His tongue works the underside of his cock as he fits more into his mouth, and Scully was right, he is way too good at this. 

Scully curses under them, and only then does Dieter notice she’s touching herself as Mulder keeps pumping into her with a shaky, stilted rhythm. 

“So good, Mulder.”

His responding moan turns into a whimper as Dieter’s prick slides across the back of his tongue and hits his throat. 

“Fuck, yeah, so good,” Dieter agrees. 

It’s more than good. It’s incredible, unbelievable. He watches Mulder’s shiny, puffy lips wrapped around him, so in awe of how gorgeous he is. His pretty eyes are closed, half concentration and half bliss as he slides in and out of Scully’s dripping cunt. 

It takes him a while to find a rhythm that works, but when he finds his groove he fucking finds it. Of course he’d be good at this, too. He fucks in and out of Scully once, twice, and then sinks his mouth down as far as he can on Dieter’s cock (all the fucking way— Jesus christ) and holds there while he pumps in and out of her some more. 

And Dieter’s so, so torn. He wants to be good for Scully, wants to challenge Mulder for her and keep up the show. He wants to hang on so she can crumble as she watches her partner taking and receiving so perfectly at the same time.

But he wants to be good for Mulder too. He wants to come in his mouth and give him the satisfaction of satisfying. He wants to let Mulder prove to Scully how good he is, let him make them both come and writhe under his skill and rapt attention. 

And it’s like Scully can sense it. With her free hand, she reaches up and cups his balls. It makes his fucking toes curl, makes him cry out her name and slam his eyes shut to stave it off. He’s being tagged teamed by the objects of some of his earliest sexual fantasies and it takes him biting his lip so hard he draws blood to keep it together. 

He realizes the noises he’s making are borderline embarrassing. He’s mewling and gasping and whimpering as she squeezes and strokes, as her fingers meet Mulder’s lips every time he takes him deep. He’s shaking with the effort it takes to not fuck Mulder’s mouth. And he’s sweating, and he hopes to god it doesn’t start to trickle down and land on Scully’s blissed-out face.

And then it doesn’t much matter, because those dainty fingers and well-kept nails travel back, across his taint, and press. 

“I can’t— I can’t, oh my god.”

Mulder hums around his cock in an echo of the noise Scully makes under him. He’s teetering on the edge, tensed up, out of his mind as Scully massages that spot and Mulder swirls his tongue around the head of his cock. 

And in sync, like they always are, in a way that takes him completely off guard but should be absolutely predictable, they unravel him. 

Mulder takes him down his throat and swallows, and the pad of one of Scully’s fingers taps his entrance, and he’s done. 

He might scream, if he’s being honest. There was never any hope for a warning, the way they ganged up to play him like a fucking fiddle. Mulder groans as the first explosive spurt of Dieter’s cum shoots down his throat. He pulls back as Dieter continues to spill with each spasm of his muscles, as he tries but fails to suck Scully’s finger up inside him. He writhes and curses and clenches Mulder’s hair a little too tight as he works through his orgasm. 

Mulder dutifully collects every last drop, extremely intent on keeping it from spilling down across Scully’s face. He is such a good boy for her. Mulder whimpers when she tells him so in her breathy, sexy way she does. His hips stutter inside of her just as Dieter slips from his swollen lips. 

He doesn’t get reprieve yet, though. Mulder’s long, lean body arches up, and his arm reaches to grab a fist full of Dieter’s hair and tug and oh, god, he might just come again.

Their lips crash together, and before Dieter can think of how metallic the taste is, Mulder’s pushing his own load into his mouth forcefully. Dieter takes it all, sucks it down and swallows as he pants against Mulder’s mouth. 

Then he thanks him, and he thanks Scully, over and over with baited breath until he collapses to the side of them, completely spent and overstimulated. 

“You did so good,” he hears Scully say. 

Only she’s not talking to him. 

She’s got both her hands on Mulder’s face. Her lips just brushing against his own as she whispers. He watches her hike her legs up to wrap around Mulder’s waist, watches Mulder sag into her so he’s plastered against her front. 

“Scully,” Mulder whines. 

“Harder, Mulder. Make me come.”

He kisses her one last time before he buries his face in her neck and obeys, pulling nearly all the way out of her before driving back in. She’s really vocal now, now that she has Mulder’s undivided attention, now that he can focus on fucking her steadily and deep and fast.

Her head is thrown back and she looks so fucking beautiful. Mulder should be looking at her, shouldn’t miss a moment of the way she looks as he’s making her fall apart. But Dieter can’t blame him, or the concentrated, almost pained look he has on his face that’s just peeking out under her chin. 

It’s crazy how she seems to be fucking him from under all his weight, but she’s doing exactly that. Her toned legs pull him into her, her hips arching to meet his, so frantic and hot. One of her hands is leaving red marks down his back and the other one is petting through his hair, scraping his scalp and pulling so many gorgeous noises from him. 

Dieter couldn’t look away if he tried. His spent cock is twitching, trying it’s damndest to steal what little blood is left in his brain. He wants to help them along, maybe take Scully’s nipple into his mouth, but they’re both crushed under Mulder’s body in a way Dieter’s extremely jealous of. He could touch Mulder, could grab his pert little asscheek and squeeze. But he resigns to the sidelines instead, lets them share this intimate moment with only the intrusion of his eyes and heavy breathing. 

It’s over pretty quickly, anyway. Mulder starts babbling again, a great fucking look on him, there where he’s hidden in the pale crook of her neck. 

“Please, Scully. Come for me— I wanna make you come. I wanna be good, let me make you feel good.”

And she’s grinding her hips up as her back arches off the bed, no doubt catching her swollen clit on that enticing patch of wiry curls above his prick. She’s panting and gasping and then she’s shouting.

“Don’t stop, don’t stop, Mulder, oh my god! So good, good boy— I’m gonna come—”

And she does. Beautifully. She tenses up and then she shakes, convulsing under him, around him. She moans and mumbles through it, with her eyes shut tight and her cute little nose all scrunched and her mouth hanging open. 

It’s so beautiful that she outshines Mulder. Dieter barely even catches his groans, the curses under his breath as his hips stutter and grind into her. They both ride it out for a while, it’s like it’s never going to end. They writhe against each other and Mulder’s panting into her mouth as she tries her best to kiss his open lips. Their rhythm takes forever to slow, and even longer to come to a stop. 

It’s better than anything Dieter ever could have imagined. He’s already half hard again, just watching them be together, and that fact only makes him want to leave, disappear, let them play this out without some stranger in their bed. 

But christ he wants to stay and watch just as bad. 

Their eyes flutter open at the same time, and the smiles on their faces are as nauseating as they are precious. Scully looks like the cat that got the cream, and Mulder has the audacity to look sheepish. 

“I uh—” Mulder’s voice cracks, and he clears his throat, “I didn’t pull out.”

Scully giggles. 

“I noticed.”

He huffs, and she smooths his sweaty hair from his forehead.

“I’m on the pill.”

Mulder sighs. 

“That’s— that’s good.”

Idiots, Dieter thinks. The situational irony is off the charts. His huff alerts them both, snaps them out of their little bubble to look over at him. 

He opens his mouth to say something but nothing comes to mind. Scully gives him an amused little smirk and reaches over to pet his hair. 

“You were so good,” she muses. 

He shivers at her words and her fucked-out gaze. 

Mulder shifts on top of her, and they both gasp a little noise when he slips out of her, but they’re both focused on him. 

Mulder looks him up and down and for a moment he isn’t sure if he’s about to kick him out of bed or kiss him within an inch of his life. 

He does neither, it turns out. Instead he holds the side of Dieter’s face in his big, sweaty palm and it’s so soothing that he closes his eyes and leans into it. His thumb strokes Dieter’s cheek while Scully plays with his hair and he could die happy here. 

“Yeah man, thank you. That was good— you were good.”

Dieter’s eyes open wide at that. They’re both looking at him with fondness— appreciation. His chest swells with a heavy feeling just as his eyes begin to sting. 

“Thank you,” he whispers. 

He just barely catches the confused looks on their faces before he hides his own, rolling over into his stomach to let his pitiful tears fall into the blanket below him. Scully ruffles his hair with a sympathetic coo and Mulder pats him on the back of his heated neck before he hears rustling and feels the bed shift. 

“Oh my god.”

Scully’s voice sounds horrified. For a quick moment, his tiny little pea brain thinks of Queequeg— is he alright, did he get out while they were occupied?

“What the hell?”

Mulder’s voice sounds much more amused. 

Confused, Dieter wipes his wet eyes in what he hopes is an inconspicuous move before he looks over his shoulder at them.

Scully and Mulder are both standing at the foot of the bed, looking equal parts mortified and puzzled. And they’re staring at Dieter’s bare ass. 

His bare ass that he now remembers is tattooed. Tattooed with Mulder and Scully’s face on each cheek, respectively. 

“Oh, ha— yeah. Maybe that could have proved it faster?”

His face feels hot. He’s had these asscheek tattoos for so long he sometimes forgets about them. He was young and drunk and high when he got them, but they still hold up. Full color portraits of his favorite FBI agents. 

“What do the words say?” Scully asks. 

Mulder takes one for the team and leans in closer to Dieter’s ass, and he wonders if his blush goes all the way to his buttcheeks. 

“Mine says the truth is out there, and yours says I want to believe.”

Dieter lets out a nervous chuckle and shifts, a little scrutinized, a little embarrassed, a little bit turned on at the way Mulder’s gaze settles over his body.

“When did you get these?”

“1998, right after the movie came out.”

“There’s a movie?”

“Two, actually.”

Scully shakes her head and looks from Mulder to Dieter’s butt, back and forth a few times. 

“I’ll give you this one, Mulder. Only because there’s no lake monster for you to boast about.”

Mulder preens, a satisfied smirk settling on his handsome face. 

“Finally,” he and Dieter say at the exact same time. 

She rolls her eyes. 

“Brag about it in the morning. I’m tired— and my bed’s clean,” she throws her voice over her shoulder as she leaves the room. 

Dieter stays put. His ankles roll around in an attempt to hide his hesitation. He stares at the empty doorway and avoids Mulder’s lanky form. 

“You coming, Doc Brown?”

He’d be stupid not to follow like an eager pup. 

They all nestle into Scully’s bed. She’s in the middle, wrapped up in blankets, and the guys take either side of her. Dieter rests his head on her naked breast as she kisses Mulder goodnight, as Mulder’s fingers intertwine with his own over her smooth stomach. Their pillow talk lulls him to sleep and he goes to bed happy for the first time in years.

He wakes up alone, on his couch, in his own clothes, with his face smashed against his open laptop. 

A dream. It must have all been a crazy, weed and hormone induced dream. Best dream he’s ever had. He sighs, scratches his head and takes in his surroundings. 

Everything’s normal, exactly how he left it. Except, when he moves to his bedroom to mourn the loss of the day he never had, he sees a red and white trucker’s hat on his nightstand. 

Show us your bobbers

[forlorn-crows]

And You Know That It Takes Two

Rating: E for Explicit

Relationship(s): Copia/Dewdrop

Tags: transitional period between era iv and era v, banter, slice of life, first time, first kiss, handjobs. beta'd AND correctly translated italian!

Words: 3731

Summary: “Well, I do. Of course I do,” he assures the ghoul. “Quite fond of you all, actually. It was, admittedly, a little rocky when we first met. But.” There’s that heh Dew was expecting just moments before. “Here we are, no?”

When Copia starts rubbing his thumb up and down the inside of his knee, Dew’s brain stops working. His gaze zeros in to the fingers splayed across the side of his thigh, so foreign, so bare, so pink against the black of his casual uniform pants. His mind is full of static and all he can hear is his own blood pumping through his head. But there’s a weird something tugging in his ribcage; something new yet old, unnamed but familiar.

special thanks to @miasmaghoul for beta'ing and @foxybouquet for the italian translations ♡

EDIT: now with ART from the fabulous @noahl-art. merci beaucoup, nono!! find his full artwork here

Read on AO3 or under the cut:

Caro: dear

Stai bene?: (Are) you okay?

Ti piace?: Do you like this?/Does this feel good?

Merdaccia infernale: (roughly) infernal fucking shit. Closest to "unholy shit".

Proprio così: That’s it.

“D’you think Lucifer would want us to have black mass every Saturday?” Dew pokes the wooden arm of Copia’s chair with the toe of his boot. “Shouldn’t we be exercising our sinful wiles instead of listening to you drone on about the Dark One?” 

Copia tugs on a scrap of paper trapped beneath the ghoul’s thigh. “You do plenty of that on your off time, my ghoul,” he teases. He looks over his reading glasses, offering a smirk. Dew can hear the unspoken eh? at the end of his sentence, so much so he can’t help rolling his eyes and smirking back. 

“How would you know, old man?” Dew fires back, flicking the hem of Copia’s trousers with his tail. He leans in closer. Elbows resting on his slightly spread knees until his face is level with the anti-pope’s. “Listening in on your free time?” The fire ghoul smiles wickedly, giving him an obvious once over. He cocks his head and bites his tongue between his teeth, waiting for an answer. 

Copia’s face rosies a bit, but he returns to his chicken scratch. He jots down a few words before he mutters: “I am sure you do not fantasize your Papa spying on you, caro.” 

“Maybe I don’t.” A lie. “Anyway, I think Rain’s loud enough to hear across the fuckin’ abbey. Probably have a soundtrack of water ghoul moans to lull you to sleep every other night,” Dew snickers. 

Copia just shakes his head with an amused sigh and continues taking notes. Little chunks of writing in the margins of photocopies of Latin texts, scrawling in both Italian and English in a little notebook off to the side. Dew’s struck with just how patient this man is, endlessly so. He can get crabby on tour, just like any of them, restless and tired, but he really is kind to him and his pack. 

The fire ghoul hums thoughtfully and returns to his upright position. Leaning back into the circles of bare desk he cleared earlier for his hands. “Do you get tired of putting up with us, Papa?” he asks casually. 

“Dewdrop,” Copia says with a measured tone. He puts his pen down, and his glasses too, looking up at his lead guitarist and steepling his fingers. They’re devoid of gloves, Dew notices in passing, his nails neatly trimmed and his skin smooth and humanly wrinkly. “We have been working together for how many years now?”

Dew shrugs. “A few.”

“Si, quite a few, hm?” Copia agrees. He swivels his chair so his body faces Dew more directly and places a gentle hand on his knee. “Why then, my ghoul, would you think I am ‘putting up with you,’ as you put it?”

“Don’t tell me you actually like us,” Dew says sarcastically. But Copia’s hand is warm on his knee, and he’s trying not to focus too much on how he’s looking at him right now, all soft eyes and a worried crease in his brow. 

“Well, I do. Of course I do,” he assures the ghoul. “Quite fond of you all, actually. It was, admittedly, a little rocky when we first met. But.” There’s that heh Dew was expecting just moments before. “Here we are, no?”

When Copia starts rubbing his thumb up and down the inside of his knee, Dew’s brain stops working. His gaze zeros in to the fingers splayed across the side of his thigh, so foreign, so bare, so pink against the black of his casual uniform pants. His mind is full of static and all he can hear is his own blood pumping through his head. But there’s a weird something tugging in his ribcage; something new yet old, unnamed but familiar. 

He’s quiet for so long that Copia clears his throat and gives his knee a polite pat before taking his hand away. He makes to go back to his notes, but Dew mourns the loss of his hand immediately. His pen barely touches the pages before the fire ghoul sobers up and inhales sharply. 

“Uh,” he blurts out stupidly, shaking his head and squinting his eyes at Copia. Unsure what to say but determined to say something. “You mean that?” Immediately he wants to crawl back into himself—back into the Pit, even—for sounding so small. Vulnerable. 

“Yes, I do,” Copia says quietly, genuinely. He taps his pen against the paper, little dots of black littering the line beneath his skip this? note. Instead of resuming his annotations, he sets the pen down once more, looking up at the ghoul perched atop his desk. His white eye is suddenly piercing in the lamplight, and he’s looking at him like he can see more than just the ghoul sitting in front of him.

“Well, I guess we’re . . . fond of you too, or whatever you wanna call it,” he mocks, aiming for levity. Dew’s tail flicks, ruffling the hem of Copia’s pants again.

Copia chuckles. “Well, that is good then,” he smiles.

Dew hums. Offers a one-sided smile in return. Easy. He could leave it at that; resume the relaxed banter about sermons and his new duties as Papa while Copia gets increasingly tired and/or annoyed and shoos him away with a chocolate truffle in hand (the ones he keeps stashed in his desk drawer for evenings like this). 

He could. But in the same moment, he decides he’s tired of tip-toeing around the idea of what this man is to him. He wades out into the waters, throwing a line.

“Is that . . . the only thing you feel for us?” he says at length, quieter. He scoots his thigh closer to the anti-pope’s hand. Encouraging him to touch again, if he wants. The sudden heat in his belly hoping he does. He wades a little deeper. “For me?” 

Now it’s Copia’s turn to falter, fingers twitching at the fabric of Dew’s trousers. He looks down at Dew’s thigh, then back up to his face. Searching his copper eyes for something, anything, his thoughts as loud as if Dew were a quintessence ghoul. 

“I . . .” he trails off, a failed start. He clears his throat. “I am, as they say, only human. So there are, perhaps, other . . . things. Si.” 

Dew grabs his hand gently, placing it just above where it was moments ago, confidence building. “Fantasies, maybe?” 

“Dewdrop—”

“For how bold you are on stage, you sure are fuckin’ shy in private, Papa.”

Copia huffs a laugh, moving his hand tentatively along Dew’s thigh. “Eh . . . reserved, maybe. But I don’t know about shy, my ghoul.” He shuffles his chair so he’s situated back between the fire ghoul’s dangling legs. 

Dew smirks. “See? Can call me motherfucker in front of thousands of screaming girls, but it’s my ghoul in here.”

“Ah, but that is the difference. They do not get the privilege of seeing you offstage.” A beat.  “Though, I imagine they would do a lot of things for that privilege,” he mutters. 

Dew bites his tongue in asserting that he is, in fact, a motherfucker offstage too. Instead, he tilts his head so his ashy hair cascades over his shoulder and spreads his legs further, hooking a foot in the arm of Copia’s chair and tugging it closer. He’s baring all of himself now, literally and figuratively. Potentially risking his position, too, if this goes south. 

But by the look on the anti-pope’s face, they’re both too deep to swim back now. 

“And what’re you gonna do with that privilege, Papa?”

“You’re asking?” he deflects, putting the other hand on the opposite thigh.

“If you don’t touch me in the next five seconds, old man, I swear to Satan—”

“Like this?” Copia smooths his hand up the inside of Dew’s thigh, running along the seam of his pants until he reaches where the ghoul’s started to chub up. His breath hitches, head tilting back. 

“Yeah,” he breathes. He looks back down at his hand, tucking chin to chest as he watches those fingers press just so, right where the tip of his dick sits already sticky in his boxers. He bites his lip with a stifled noise.

“Long time we’ve danced around each other, I think,” Copia says. Dew just nods, flexing his hips into his fingers to get more friction. Copia presses more firmly, taking the hint. Drawing a firm line down the ridge of his clothed shaft. 

“Humans and ghouls, well . . .” he trails off, looking up at Dew.

“You’ve thought about it,” he replies simply. 

“Of course. Of course I have, caro. I–” he laughs, shakes his head in disbelief. “I mean, look at you.” He stops himself, color rising to his cheeks. He drops his gaze, focusing back on the hand on Dew’s fly.

The fire ghoul watches him trace a finger around the button before reaching down himself, popping it open. “What about me?” he asks softly, inviting. Shifting his hips again to encourage him to continue. 

“Not just fishing for compliments, I hope,” Copia teases lightly, a little bit of that stage persona shining through as he drags the zipper down.

“That’s not what—hh-oh.” He cuts himself off with a stuttered breath of a moan, Copia’s hand having reached past his fly and into his pants to pet at the dot of wetness sticking his boxers to his tip. The look of pure curiosity—wonder, really—on the man’s face as he feels him up has his stomach flipping. “Fuck, keep doing that.”

“You tell me what you like, my ghoul, and I will do it,” he whispers. 

Dew groans as another bead of precum blurts out into his boxers, wet at just his words. “Keep teasing it,” he breathes. “Shit, see how wet you can get it.” He twitches under Copia’s fingers as he wraps his hand around his clothed cock, thumb swiping back and forth over the head. Firm, but just light enough that it makes Dew keen for more. 

Copia continues the little motions, over and over until Dew’s underwear clings to him, saturated with pre. The friction of it and the intensity of Copia’s gaze on him has him dizzy, wanting. The man’s thumb presses over his slit, and he can’t help his eyes rolling back, thighs twitching towards each other. 

“F-fuck,” he stutters. 

Copia rubs his other hand over Dew’s thigh, soothing. “Stai bene? Good?” 

The fire ghoul nods, hair falling off his shoulders to frame his face. “More than,” he groans. He bites his lip, bucking into Copia’s hand. “Again—do it agai—yes, Satanas, yes.”

The anti-pope presses into his slit again, this time dragging the pad of his thumb along the ridge with even pressure. Humming as he works it back and forth. It’s so sensitive, so instantly overwhelming that Dew has to consciously restrain himself from gouging his claws into the wood. He lets his head drop back, facing the ceiling and biting his lip to stave off the rush of arousal that threatens to make him spill in his pants. 

Below him, Copia sighs. “Beautiful, caro,” he comments. 

Dew half-snorts, half-groans, bringing his chin back down to his chest. “You flatter me,” he says with an eye roll. 

“They say it gets one everywhere, no?” 

“If by ‘everywhere’ you mean ‘in my pants’.”

“If that is where you want me.”

Dew sucks his teeth, scoffs a little in disbelief. Eyebrows twitching upwards when Copia fingers the elastic of his boxers, blunt nails scratching at the peach fuzz on his stomach. He can’t get a grasp on the anti-pope’s tone, switching so fast between charming and soft it makes his head spin. He’s seen both moods separately, of course, fired back his own quips with a silver tongue or begrudgingly accepted praise and a head pat for a productive rehearsal. But having a cocktail of both leaves him with mental whiplash.

The hand making his dick wet probably isn’t helping in that department.

So he nods instead, helping the man shimmy down the waistband of his boxers to snuggle it under his balls, freeing his aching length. Dew hisses at the cool air of the room breezing over the slick-coated head—though, it’s replaced with a puff of hot air when Copia breathes: 

“May I?” 

Dew nods again, widening his eyes and raising his eyebrows as a silent duh. Copia chuckles at that, scooting a little closer. He smooths his other hand up the fire ghoul’s thigh, up, up, up until he stops at his hip and rests his palm there, forearm dropping to sit on top of his leg. Dew’s stuck watching its ascent and misses the moment the anti-pope reaches for him, wrapping his fingers gently around the base of his cock and stroking upwards. 

“Lucifer,” he chokes out. He snaps his gaze to where their skin meets and watches his dick kick hard in Copia’s fist, more precum welling up in the slit. 

“Ti piace?” Copia continues to stroke slowly, not immediately translating as earlier. His accent curls around Dew’s eardrums, the Italian twisting with foreignness and short-circuiting his language synapses. He shakes his head, begging the small box of Italian in his brain labeled ‘Papa’s Nonsense Words’ to make sense of the phrase.  

He blinks at Copia’s expectant gaze. “Huh?” he asks eloquently, forcing the word through an embarrassing moan.

“Does this feel good?” he supplies, nodding toward his hand. 

The fire ghoul stares at the man’s hand, now wet with his own slick as it glides up and down. When his brain finally catches up to him, he barks a bewildered laugh. “I’m gonna have to learn more fuckin’ Italian for this,” he mumbles.

“Oh.” Copia laughs too, realizing his little slip-up. Dew’s shoulders shake with his own renewed laughter. Giggles passing between the two as if they were twelve-year-olds who just pulled off a prank on their teacher, not a fifty-something leader of a Satanic church jerking off a near immortal hellbeast turned quasi-human. 

But the shared laughter is familiar. Comforting, in a way. Something to dissolve that final layer of caution that sat like oil on water between them. 

“You are an endless delight, my ghoul,” Copia sighs, huffing out a last chuckle. 

“I’ll give you an endless—uuh-nholy ff–fuck.” Copia runs his thumb over the slit of Dew’s cock, and his sentence is reduced to an eye-rolling moan. He grabs hold of the anti-pope’s forearm that rests on his leg, fingers digging into the muscle as he drools out a fat roll of precum. 

Copia hums and smears it around the head, pulling down the foreskin to rub at the sensitive underside. It’s all the courtesy he’s granted before the man goes back to stroking him in earnest, skirting over the head with each downward pass and tightening around the base when he pulls up.  

Dew grips his forearm tighter, thighs jumping with each tease of his frenulum. “Faster,” he begs. “And tighter. Fuck, feels s’ good.” 

“Merdaccia infernale, are you always so . . .” Copia shakes his head, letting the room fill with the lewd, creamy sounds of Dew’s slick-soaked cock.

“Wet?” Dew supplies as a choked-off noise. “Not al–hah–always. Not since—” his eyes roll back again, too caught in pleasure to be completely coherent. “The–shit–the—” Dew flails his hand in some nonsensical gesture. 

“Si, si.” The man understands without further elaboration that he means his elemental transition. That, despite the effective evaporation of his water, the born-again fire ghoul still carries traits from his original alignment—including dribbling pre like a leaky tap.

But Copia knows, doesn’t need him to explain or elaborate. Just tightens his grip and speeds his hand, looking up at Dew with a gaze that cuts him right down to the core. Intense, yet soft and admiring. Desire flickering just behind that. 

“Shit,” Dew hisses, letting his eyes close fully. Sinking into it. His hips are moving of their own accord now, little twitches that meet each downstroke, just barely fucking into Copia’s fist. It’s so much better than it has right to be, but Dew doesn’t care. All he cares about is the way Copia’s hand feels on his dick, the way his other hand grips his hip, the way his breathing grows heavier and tickles the fine hairs at the base of his dick, how it chills the wetness at the tip only to be warmed by his fingers within the same second. 

“Oh, oh, ohhhh fuck, Papa, fuck.” His pleasure heightens suddenly, the backs of his thighs going pleasantly tingly and his toes curling in his boots. He can feel it starting to build, balls drawing closer to his body with every stroke. 

“Close?” Copia whispers, gripping Dew’s hip tighter and shifting in his chair. He grunts a little, no doubt filled out in his slacks too. Dew can’t confirm from this angle, especially not with the way his vision blurs, doubles even. But he has to be, if his wavering voice is anything to go by. 

Dew throbs at just the idea of his cock straining against his zipper, balls heavy and squished between his thighs as he watches the fire ghoul come apart. Neglecting it as he showers Dew with undivided attention. He’s assaulted with the mental image of Copia in those tight, white pants from his Cardinal days, absolutely everything on display, and he groans. 

He’s shaking now, stomach jumping as his breath starts to quicken. He’s sure his eyes are wild as he looks at the man below him, whining through his teeth as his hand moves faster, faster. Dew watches Copia bite his lip and look down at the movements of his hand, and the sudden fantasy image of that mouth kissing the tip of his cock makes him grip the anti-pope’s forearm until it threatens to bruise, nearly doubling over with the swell of impending orgasm.

Dew needs him. He needs him so badly. 

“Gonna cum—fuck, please,” he moans, breath quickening to shortened gasps. “Kiss me—please, m’ gonna—Papa—” Dew grasps at the man’s shirt collar, pulling at it to get him to stand. Dragging him in by the shoulders and kissing him fiercely, whining when Copia groans into his mouth and pumps him even faster. The scent on him is instantly intoxicating; notes of neroli and patchouli, dull wax from the black patches of makeup, the barest hint of incense smoke underneath. All pressed directly into his nostrils where Dew’s nose smushes against his. 

“Proprio così,” Copia mumbles, encouraging. His other arm loops around to cradle him between the shoulder blades, hand threading through his hair to grasp and hold as he kisses him deeply. That little bit of tension on Dew’s scalp sends a zing of heat right to his dick, and he’s moaning like a whore as he scrabbles at Copia’s shirt, ready to fall over the edge.

“Fucking. Fu–uhh, uh, uhh—” Dew loses all sense of words as he clings to him, mouth dropping open and tongue drooling over Copia’s lips. He cums hard, spilling over his hand with a shuddering groan, bucking into that wet fist until he’s risking sliding off the edge of the desk. He doesn’t, of course, braced and embraced by Copia’s body as he is. 

Dew’s head drops to his shoulder as he rides out the seemingly endless spasms. Far too many for a handy, if he’s being honest. But the anti-pope works him over until he’s milked dry, whispering more words into his hair that he doesn’t understand and rubbing a soothing hand over his back. 

“Shit,” he rasps. After a few more moments he peeks down at his lap—lucid enough now to mind his horns—where his black pants are now streaked with white, Copia’s hand resting on his fly also coated in the stuff. He shakes his head softly and laughs. 

“Got me good, old man.”

“Dewdrop . . .” His tone is pleading, breathless. Dew lifts his head and the hand on his back migrates to the side of his face, caressing softly. He leans into it as he looks at Copia, his face flushed and a look of pure want and adoration in his eyes. “Please, caro.”

He doesn’t need to ask what he needs, eyes flicking down to the tent in his pants and back up again. Dew nods. Moves the hands around Copia’s neck to the back of his head, pulling him in. 

It’s less feverish this time. Softer and slower, but far from chaste. Idly he wonders if any of the others have had him like this: privately in his office, a mere exchange of something fleeting, or hot and heavy in a storage closet after a show, frantic and adrenaline-fueled. 

If any of them have, they’ve never told. He’ll go back to the ghoul wing smelling of him, unless he runs straight to the shower. Douse himself in scalding hot water until he can barely smell himself.

But he won’t. 

Dew slides into the space in front of Copia, ignoring the mess on his dick as he presses close to the man. Licking into his mouth and sliding their tongues together as Copia’s hands start to roam. The fire ghoul slots a thigh between his legs as his palms reach his waist, pressing against his crotch. 

Copia whines in his throat, twisting his fingers into the fabric of Dew’s shirt. He’s hard as steel against his leg, throbbing when Dew presses harder and tugging at him like he could still get closer than he already is. 

“Sit down,” Dew rumbles. He breaks the kiss and holds his gaze as he presses on his shoulders, easing him back into the desk chair. Down, down, down until Dew looms over him. He smirks slightly, confidence and ease returning to him as their positions switch. Running his thumb along the painted upper lip then dragging down to the bare one. 

Wordlessly, the fire ghoul sinks to his knees. Scoots Copia to the edge of his chair so he can spread his legs. He smooths his palms up his thighs, his infernal heat seeping through the trousers. He watches Copia’s face as he pets at him, cupping and rubbing at his cock through the layers of fabric. The man’s chest heaves. Hands gripping the wooden arms of his chair. Exhaling shakily as Dew traces a claw around the button on his fly.

“Allow me,” Dew purrs.

[erinwantstowrite]

Erin I have a question ⁉️

How did you start writing LoF? Like,.not writing it in general, I mean like how did you get—or learned—or studied—all the information regarding the Batfam and their backgrounds, and also about Peter and the Avengers, etc.

Currently, I'm honestly planning on writing a small fiction about Peter ending up in Gotham (You must know your words hold a very dangerous power to inspire) but unfortunately, I don't have the right information to actually START writing it TT_TT. Do you have any tips on how I can start?

(P.S Apologies if this sounds a little confusing, I am not entirely the best at explaining 😞🤞)

There's one person to blame for getting me into DC, and it's @alighterwood

I've always been a fan of Spider-Man. He was my first hero, I wanted to be him soooo bad. I had gotten around to sort of writing my own fic for it with my own version of Peter around last year? (Very much inspired by ITSV, LoF Peter came about because he's his own universe and is based on Spider-Man lore from multiple media versions). I had never thought about writing a Spider-Man fic until ATSV, but at the time I was pretty much dead set on rewriting VLD. I got inspired after rewatching ITSV and then watching ATSV.

But it wasn't until alighterwood got me reading their favorite Batfam fics (specifically Tim) that I started to enjoy Batfam or DC in general.

(My favorite Batfam fic is "The Lone Ranger Never Had to Deal with Bruce Wayne" )

From there I started branching out into learning more about Batfam, what is and isn't fanon, and forming my own opinions. It was a natural progression into "I want my favorite characters to meet each other" and alighterwood's evil genius plan ended up working.

I've read a few comics (mostly the Red Robin series, because Tim was my intro to Batfam so I figured I'd start there) but most of my information?

Wikis, reddits, forums from years (a few of them from decades) ago, my father (who was a Batman fan as a kid) and his friends (my uncles, who were all DC and Marvel nerds), my own friends- basically anything I can get my hands on. If I had a question, it was (probably) answered somewhere, or there was someone else with the same question that made me feel better for not getting it. The internet has a BOATLOAD of information about both Marvel and DC.

It's a LOT of research and note taking, to be honest. I have a physical notebook where I take notes on lore so I don't forget it. I comb through fanon AND canon and I decide from there what I want and what I don't want/what doesn't work and what does work for what I'm writing.

But here's something to keep in mind: at the end of the day, you're not writing FOR anyone else. You're not out to please people who are 100% canon, all the time, nor are you trying to accommodate people who only read fanon material. You're writing for YOU. This part is fun for me, but could be very tedious for other people. I'm a little weird like that (I started writing essays for fun since I learned about them in school).

I like doing research. Like a lot of writers, I go down multiple rabbit holes a day. I start by googling a simple question that should take five minutes and then I see something and go "oh! What's this!?" and pick it up, and the cycle continues when I see something else and eventually remember that I was writing.

I enjoy the research and figuring out the balance. Because DC and Marvel do the same shit with their own works! Shit gets retconned, or they bring characters back from the dead, blah blah blah. The fun part for me IS going insane trying to figure out the Flash Family and their STUPID family tree, or learning about characters that were basically forgotten by everyone- even the writers. The best part is that since it's my fic I'm writing, I can go: "What's the most entertaining way I can use this?" And no one can stop me.

But if YOU don't enjoy that part, and you try to do it, you might lose your spark!! Your inspiration!! You might not have fun, and that's what writing is all about!! My thing is, is that basically every fan interpretation, whether they try to stick to the original source as closely as they can or not, IS FANON. And fanon is fun!!

Basically it all stems down to: it's your sandbox and you can play in there however you want to. And sometimes, people see what you're doing and they're like "Can I play too?" and you're like "Yes that'd be awesome!!"

If you find that you do enjoy the research, I think it's well worth it. It's very satisfying to put together all that work and then get a comment from someone where they say "OMG!! I know that reference!" or "I love this interpretation of this very obscure thing!!"

My advice for writing a Peter in Gotham fic is to know where YOU are starting at, before you start writing your fic. If you're a Spider-Man fan and you don't know much about the Batfam, try reading a comic about them, or find some favorite fics and base your information on that. It works vice-versa, if you know more about Batfam and not a lot about Peter.

Imagine there are two people sitting in front of you. One is a Marvel fan, the other is a DC fan, and they know NOTHING about the other comics. But they both want to hear your story where you have combined them. It's important that you don't lean too much into either side: you keep both of their interest by appreciating the details from both DC and Marvel.

The Marvel fan will be happy to see Peter reacting to a new world and situations, even if they don't know everything you're referencing. But the DC fan will be excited because you care about the place that Peter is interacting with enough to make a joke that maybe only they would get.

So: have fun, explore everywhere you want to, and get a little crazy. Don't worry too much about not knowing everything there is to know. I don't know everything about DC or Marvel either!

[r0syr3a]

Blue fingertips

Kirk Hammett x Reader

Words: 548

Genre: Fluff

Warnings: Swearing

Requested by: @luvdenj

Author note: I apologize for disappering and this taking forever to come out, but I hope you guys enjoy.

Kirk was lying on his side at the head of your bed as he wrote in his notebook, as you were sitting at the foot of your bed, watching him. He never let you see his writing until it was finished, but you kept trying to take quick peeks. He noticed your head slightly inching towards his notebook before moving it to face his chest.

"You know the rules, darling. No reading-"

"Until it's done. I know, I know." You cut him off and he laughed.

"Why don't you turn on some music? It's too quiet in here." Kirk asked. You nodded before walking over to your collection of records. You grabbed your copy of "Fear of Music" by Talking Heads and started to play it.

"I don't think I played this one for you yet." You stated as you sat back up on the bed.

"It's no Black Sabbath, but it isn't horrible." Kirk joked at you as he started to write again. You laid down, your head on his legs and your own legs hanging off the edge of your bed.

"Can I at least know what you're writing about? Like what's the inspiration?" You turned your head to look at him and he smiled at you.

"How about I tell you the title? Hmm?" You quickly nodded your head in response.

"Just know, this is not gonna be a Metallica song. This is just gonna be for us." Kirk looked down at you with a smile.

"I don't mind, I just want to know." You whined and he chuckled at you.

"Warm Heart, Cold Skin." He looked down at his notebook again. "Inspired by the most beautiful girl I know. She's always cold to touch but she's the warmest person I know." He slowly turned his face back to yours.

Kirk had asked you out about two months prior and the most common thing he said about you was how old your hands and feet were.

Your face heated up and a smile appeared on your lips. "And who would that be?" You asked, trying to get more information out of him.

He sat up slightly and put a hand over yours. "You're cold again." Was all he said before his eyes went slightly wide and he whispered to himself. "Oh shit."

You look down at your hand and notice the blue fingerprints on the top of your hand before turning to look up at him and bursting out laughing. "Your pen exploded!"

He immediately stood up and went to wash his hands. Thankfully, the only thing that got ink on it was just Kirk. The notebook and bedspreads were in the clear.

"I am so sorry, I didn't notice-" Kirk started to say as he walked in but you quickly cut him off

"It's okay, nothing got stained." You stood up and walked towards him. "My sheets and your notebook are fine, your hands are another story." You giggled as you grabbed his hands. "Blue Boy."

He wrapped his arms around your waist. "Blue Boy and his Little Snowflake." He held you close to his chest and you wrapped your arms around his shoulders.

You both just stood there for a few moments, wrapped in each other.

"Can you show me the song now?"

[dreamwatch]

Breaking The Law

Written for @corrodedcoffinfest

Day #1 - Prompt: Firsts | Word Count: 999 | Rating: T | CW: None | POV: Eddie | Tags: school shenanigans, Eddie is a little shit, first band name + first gig, two for the price of one! | AO3

****

“Mr Munson, Mr Williams, my office. Now!”

It’s not that he’s not used to being called out in the middle of the hallways of Hawkins Middle School; Eddie’s academic career has not been without drama. But the principal calling him out? That’s not normal. And here’s the thing: he hasn’t done shit wrong lately. The talent show is in a week, and he’s not doing anything to jeapordise that. Wayne’s taking the evening off work and everything. His nose has never been cleaner.

He and Jeff share a look before following Principal McKenna into her office. They’re both clueless, and Jeff is about as cleancut as they come. 

She slaps a piece of paper on to her desk. “What’s the meaning of this?”

“Uh,” Eddie starts, but he’s so lost Jeff butts in.

“It’s the sign up sheet for the talent show, ma’am.”

“I’m aware Jeffrey, but I want to know what is the meaning of this.” She points to their entry.

“That’s us,” Eddie grins.

The old bitch glares at him; he wasn’t even being smart-assed! 

“I will not have students performing under this name in this school, do you understand?”

“What’s wrong with the name?” asks Eddie innocently.

“Your band is called Jock Itch, Edward. That’s entirely inapropriate. I will not have that on our posters and I am not announcing students on stage to…” she gestures furiously to the sign up sheet, “that. You have until noon tomorrow to change it, that’s when the posters are printed. If you don’t change it, you’re not playing.”

“What?!” wails Eddie. “That’s not fair!”

“Don’t push me, Mr Munson.” She gives them both another firm stare. “And I want to know what song you’re performing. It needs my approval. You’re dismissed.”

Eddie kicks just about everything he can find all the way back to Jeff’s house, Matt and Shawn straggling behind them.

“It’s so fucking unfair, man. Bitch hates me.”

“So we’ll change the name, it’s not that big a deal,” says Matt. “It’s just a name.”

Eddie whirls around to face him, continuing to walk backwards up the hill. “It’s a good name! Fuck jocks, man, who cares about offending them.”

“Well, Mrs McKenna clearly,” adds Shawn.

They spend the rest of the afternoon on the floor of Jeff’s garage scribbling away in notebooks, the ocassional shout of a potential name the only thing breaking the silence.

“What about Blood Monkey?” offers Shawn.

“Hate it,” replies Eddie.

“Blood Sacrifice?” Matt. Jesus.

Jeff cuts him a look. “She didn’t like Jock Itch, dude, I don’t think she’s going to like Blood Sacrifice.”

“Blood—”

“Nothing with blood!” shouts Eddie. “Okay, no one say anything for ten minutes. Just write names and then we’ll share, okay?”

The sound of scribbling and scratching, pens and pencils on paper, is interspersed with quiet mutterings while they all concentrate. Eddie doesn’t even work this hard in class. 

Jeff slaps his pen down. “Okay, what have we got?”

They huddle together, notebooks and scraps of paper sprawled out on the floor. Eddie’s eyes flick up and down the pages. 

Steel Funeral

Evil Primordial

Dark Cadaver

Astral Cannibal (Shawn’s suggestion, honestly Eddie’s getting more and more worried about that dude by the day)

Lords of Hate (Not bad)

Demonic Candle

Fucking hell.

Eddie runs his hands up and down his face because he needs to do something to stop himself from going off half-cocked. He takes a breath.

“Look, these are… I mean, some of them are okay, but we can’t use these. These are way worse than Jock Itch.” He’s handing notebooks back when he sees it, in Jeff’s neat handwriting. 

Corroded Coffin. 

“I like that one.”

Jeff smiles shyly. “Thanks man.” He shrugs sadly. “Shame we can’t use it.”

They all deflate because he’s right, there’s no way that’s getting past McKenna. But Eddie is a godamn genius, if he does say so himself.

“There’s more than one way to skin a cat.” He grins at his brothers in arms. “I think we have a name.”

***

“The Tigers of Roane County? That’s your name?” Principal McKenna raises an over-plucked eyebrow as she stares at the slip of paper Eddie hands over.  She looks at them sceptically, her eyes on Eddie just a little bit longer.

Eddie rocks on his heels. “Yeah, well, you know. It’s like, rock and roll but also ‘Go Tigers’ right? Like, school pride?” He can feel Jeff’s eyes boring into him, they’re probably on stalks, but he can’t look.

“Fine,” she says on a sigh. “And song?”

“Make Your Own Kind Of Music.”

She leans back, hand to her chest. “Oh gosh, I love that song!” And then she’s writing their band name on the sheet and adding the song title and they’re on the bill. 

Fucking. Yes!

On the night Wayne gives him a hug and wishes him luck, and it’s the best feeling in the world. They head backstage, which is now full of cheerleaders and like, what the fuck? How is that a talent? It’s just shit they do for school. But then some cute kid with pigtails is waving pom poms and wishing him luck and he’s so tongue tied he can’t even reply to her. He can feel the blush all the way to his toes.

And then they’re next.

They huddle together. “Okay,” begins Eddie. “Remember. No matter what happens, stick to the plan. We’re fucking awesome and one day that’s gonna be Madison Square Garden. Got it?”

“Got it!” they reply.

“Alright ladies and gentlemen. We have a rock and roll band for you now. Please give a round of applause for The Tigers of Roane County.”

They walk out onto the stage, Eddie sweating buckets; it’s different when there’s a room full of people. But then he sees Wayne. “You’ve got this,” he mouths at Eddie. And he has.

“Ladies and gentlemen, we are Corroded Coffin, and this is Breaking The Law!”

Principal McKenna is a problem for later.

[lostfirefly]

Buggy x Reader Masterlist

I had to reorganize my masterlist a little because Tumblr doesn't allow adding new links) Sketches, OC's stories are here :)

• Heart of Courage You and Buggy are being held hostage by pirates (based on my dream) • Make my heart a better place, give me something I can believe You're a cook on the Buggy Pirates crew. During the year you have feelings for the captain, but you don't dare to say it, but you write about your feelings in poems. One day he finds your notebook (based on my personal poem) • If you wake up in your bed, alone in the dark, I'm sorry I gotta leave you before you love me You're the owner of a bar where one evening a blue-haired pirate comes and you both play a drinking game. Just a random shitty shit :) • Please don't say you're gone forever, 'cause I can't hurt no more

You're the flower shop owner who has a long-standing relationship with Buggy. You haven't seen each other much in the last few months. He finally arrives to see you, but he's overtaken by fit of jealousy during the dinner.

Chapter 1, Chapter 2

• Thank you, driver, for getting me here, you'll be an inspector, have no fear, I don't want to cause no fuss, but can I buy your Magic Bus? You and your sister are taking the bull to the farm. You board the only bus that can transport bulls, the driver of which is Buggy. Just a random shitty shit again :) • Can't find my peace and quiet, some things are better left in silence You were tormented by nightmares, you came to Buggy's bed. • Make my coffee sweet and warm, just the way you used to lie in my arms (nsfw!) You were sitting in a coffee shop for work. The barista was Buggy. • I need you here till the very end, so stay here with me Buggy had a hard day. You comb his hair and wash off his makeup. Fluffy shitty shit. • I will lay it at your feet, and I won't hold back anything, 'cause what you are is all, what you are is all of me You haven't seen Buggy for several days, he's throwing you a candlelit dinner. Fluffy fluff! • Secrets I have held in my heart are harder to hide than I thought, maybe I just wanna be yours You throw knives together with Cabaji. Buggy joins you. • If you sit down with this old clown, take that frown and break it, before the evening's gone away, I think that we could make it Your sister took you to a bar so she could meet someone. She saw Buggy, but he clearly showed interest in you. • Now hush little baby, don't you cry, everything's gonna be alright You and Buggy have a little daughter. The ship is moored, and you go to rest, leaving Buggy with the child. • Baby, baby when you're looking deep in my eyes, I know you're seeing past my make-up Buggy asks you to help him apply makeup. • They say it's your birthday, we're going to have a good time Buggy's birthday. You want to cheer him up. • But what am I gonna say, when you make me feel that way? (nsfw!) You came to visit Buggy in his office. • Storybook endings, fairy tales coming true, deep down inside we want to believe they still do Buggy tells a fairy story to children.

• Maybe You're My Enemy

You're the captain of the ship, and Buggy stole from you the map that you stole from him earlier.

Chapter 1 Chapter 2

[tofulikesmala]

hii!! how are you? i hope good, could you write a draken x fem reader, maybe smut if you feel comfortable with it, where reader is a shy nerd and since she met draken she changed completely and you do the rest!! sorry for bad english but its not much first language!!😭

At the flip of a coin

Draken x fem reader

author notes: hello, thank you for requesting! Unfortunately, I am a MINOR, so I don’t write smut. I apologize for the inconvenience. ANDAHHHB I TOOK SO LONG TO WRITE THIS IM SOS SORRY

It was time for midterms. Again. This time, Draken finally mustered enough motivation to study for it the first time in his life. The cold breeze of the aircon caused his long hair to sway a little. The quietness of the library was in contrast to the noisy environment of the Tokyo manji gang. Observing the tables—which were mostly packed with people, he sat himself down at a table which only had one person.

You watched as this tall and muscular guy sat down on your table. Looking back at the three assignments that was due the next day, you sighed. Well, you can’t do anything about it, might as well not complain, it’ll be beneficial for you anyways! Hey, it might even teach you to write faster! Looking at the guy who was flipping through his notebook, creases forming on his eyebrow, glaring at his notebook as he scowled. PleasedonttalktomePleasedonttalktomePleasedonttalktome

Placing his very clean textbook on the table, he begun flipping through the pages, not understanding a single thing at all. Staring at the girl in front of him, he sighed, before nudging her and placed his textbook in front of her. “Hey, if you can, can you explain what it’s trying to say?” The girl took some time to process his words, but after that she read the pages of the textbook, flipping here and there quickly. “This is my curriculum for next year…but be glad I still studied one year ahead.” She mumbled quietly. Draken jaw internally dropped. Which motherfucker would want to study a year ahead? The girl sitting in front of him, apparently. The girl started mumbling words Draken couldn’t even make up. “Can you speak up. You’re too soft.” A tinge of red appeared on her cheeks as she cleared her throat. “Alright….sorry…” Speaking a little louder, she explained the formulas, how to solve it, scribbling all over his textbook. Draken had to stretch his ears to be as long as a Buddha’s in order to hear her clearly. But Draken didn’t ask her to speak louder, since she seemed to have social anxiety. Shaking her leg, hand shaky, eh Draken decided not to push any further. After like half an hour of explaining the chapters tested for the exam, she put down her pen and sighed. “W-well, I hope you understood everything…..sorry if my explanation isn’t the best, I’m not very good at teaching, I mean I can understand the topic but I just can’t teach I’m really weird and all, so sorry. I’m so bad at teaching I hope you understood if it was too complicated just tell me….” As the girl went on and on, her voice got softer and softer, until she stopped speaking all together. “It was great, thanks.” Draken replied. The girl blushed a deeper shade of red. “T-thanks, it means a lot….” “Let’s be friends. You can help me with math and shit.” A deeper shade of red appeared on her cheeks. Friends….? Dang, she didn’t have a lot of that…. “I take that as a yes.” Draken stared at her before packing his things and walking away.

Time Skip. The young couple falls in love…

Dating Draken while being shy and nerdy would include….

Due to your shy personality, he feels an even more overwhelming sense of protectiveness over you

bring you to meet toman when your comfortable, of course

would 100% bonk anyone on the head if they try to make a dirty joke, he’d rather keep your innocence

A lot of times you rant about the topic your interested in to draken, although he doesn’t know what your talking about 90% of the time, he’ll listen anyways

remembers the stuff you rant about. He would see something related and would be like “hey don’t you like this”

very caring, protective and accepting! 10/10

if anyone bullies you, he’d beat them up, immediately

You groaned as your classmates who are a waste of oxygen forcefully pushed you against the locker again, slamming a hand beside you, causing all your books from your hand to fall to the ground. The smirk on his face only grew wider at your scared expression. What’s he gonna do next, beat you up? Like every other day? “If it isn’t the ner-” blood splattered on your cheek as your classmate fell onto the floor, blood trickling down your nose. Huh? What just happened? A tall figure loomed over you, as he placed his hands on your shoulders, a gentle but firm voice rang out. “Are you alright? Are you hurt anywhere?” You nodded your head, you were perfectly fine, after all. Draken nodded, before straddling the guy and beating the shit out of him, saying some curse words you didn’t even know, spitting insults here and there. As you were bullied quite frequently, more beating occurred. More shouts. More blood. More gore. More swears. Of course, it started to affect you in some way!

Three missing assignments, two exams, and 7 worksheets to complete by tomorrow. You were pissed. Very pissed. Things really decided not to go your way. You were sick, absent for only TWO days, and your asshole of a teacher decided to release all the homework that was meant for like, a fucking week. You weren’t even given an extension! Oh the urge to stab a knife into your teachers stomach and twist it, see her beg for mercy as more blood flowed out— “Ah!” You collapsed to the floor, scraping your knees on wooden floor somehow. “Oh! Isn’t this the WHORE who’s dating Draken? How did you even pull him, he’s so out of your league! Hahahah! I know, maybe it’s because you’re such a SLUT!” Of all days, she decided to piss you off today. Fuck. You were so done. Standing up, you launched right at her, pushing her onto the ground as you slammed her head against the locker. Screams sounded as both her and your classmates were shocked. Several others from other classes begun peeping their heads in, curious about the commotion. Grabbing her hair, you forcefully lifted her head, before slamming her head down again. You’ve seen draken do it many times, it was pretty easy to imitate. You lifted up her head tearing her hair. “I hope you get raped. Multiple times.” Taking your scissors, you brought it to her stomach, running the blade through her clothes. “I’m gonna make sure all the yellow fat from your stomach flows out.” Pressing a bit harder, the girl screamed and kicked, but the immense unknown strength from your body kept her down. Blood began to flow, but before you could continue, somebody picked you up, throwing away the scissors from your hands and pulling you into a hug. As you the scent of Draken’s shampoo filled your nose, you relaxed and leaned into his arms.

Draken went to the classroom too because, firstly, it’s your classroom, secondly, there was screaming.

But instead, he found you slamming your bully’s head on the floor, blood spilling everywhere.

He knew you would usually cower behind your own hands, but this time you didn’t even flinch.

“W-wha…?” Draken is SO confused, what happened to his cutie potootie pookie wookie sweet honey bear gentle girlfriend?

he can’t even MOVE. That’s until you started going a little too far

Back at the brothel, Draken used some wet wipes to gently scrub off the blood off your face. “So…who taught you all that….?” “You…?” You replied bluntly. Draken gulped. Guess there’s no turning back now

[whimsicalcotton]

I'm gonna be honest I just love the way you write amberpricefield so much. I've never even played the game. I love them so much. If you're still taking requests please pick your favorite.

skdfjsdhk thank you anon 🥺🥺🥺

thank u also for the free reign! here is some incredibly stupid Everybody's (Actually) Fine AU nonsense for u <3

--- --- ---

50: Nicknames/Pet Names

There’s a list of things other than “Max,” that Rachel and Chloe call her that probably runs a mile long. 

Chloe likes to stretch her name into a wide variety of different shapes — some more ridiculous than others — and though there apparently exists some method to her madness no one else seems to know quite what it is. Mad Max, Maximilian, Maximum Turbo-Force Dork. Max could fill up a whole notebook with just those, let alone the pet-names. Chloe was once solely an ironic user of the word babe, so Max has been told, but she’s long since fallen into the trap of habit and now throws it around far more casually than Max can handle. 

Rachel has also grown fond of playing around with Max’s name, but she leans more towards the terms of endearment. Max has lost count of the amount of times she’s gone all red in the face after being called honey or love or darling. There was even that one time Rachel had the audacity to call her babygirl in the middle of the dorm hallways, which made her fluster so hard she’d immediately started babbling some lame excuse about the time before literally running all the way back to her room. 

All this is to say: Max has been thinking it’s time for some payback.

So with devious plots in mind from the moment she gets up — perhaps Rachel is starting to rub off on her a bit — Max makes it her day's mission to give the two of them a taste of their own medicine. 

She catches Rachel first. Lingering in the dorm halls, fittingly enough, knee deep in yet another unnecessarily tense looking party planning conversation with Victoria. Of course, Victoria is often the only one who suffers in a conversation with Rachel, so when she turns to see Max approaching her expression shifts easily into one of earnest excitement.

“Morning, Max,” she greets, apparently feeling generous in her sparing Max from having to get flustered in front of Victoria. Her mistake. 

Max takes a final little breath for courage, and goes for the metaphorical kill. “Good morning, sweetheart. Am I seeing you for lunch today?”

She tries not to smile so hard watching Rachel’s cheeks turn red.

“Y-Yeah,” Rachel answers, looking momentarily horrified by her stammering before straightening up. “Yeah, sure, lunch. I’m there. See you then.”

As Max is taking her leave, hardly capable of stopping herself from skipping the whole way, she overhears their chatter resume. 

“Bitch, didn’t you literally just tell me we were gonna go over this shit again at lunch?” Victoria snaps, incredulous. “Oh my god, you’re down bad. That was pathetic. Well played, Amber, truly.”

“Shut the hell up, Chase,” Rachel hisses back. “Tell anyone what just happened and you’ll be on your own supplying party booze for the rest of the year.”

Max gets Chloe later on, during the aforementioned lunch hangout that Rachel is apparently snubbing Victoria to be present for. 

She’s in the midst of chowing down on some of the sweets Max brought along, getting bread crumbs and icing sugar all over herself in the process. By the time she’s done, there are patches of powdery white and a hint of jelly still adorning her face. Rachel tries to hide a bout of snorting giggles upon looking at her.

“Jesus, you’d think we never feed you,” she says, still covering her mouth with one hand and handing Chloe a napkin with the other. 

“Yeah,” Max agrees, taking the napkin in Chloe’s stead and reaching up to wipe off her face. “You’re making such a mess of yourself, baby.”

Chloe’s eyes go wide as saucers as she squeaks out an astoundingly unsure, “I sure am.” She lets Max finish cleaning her off before seemingly coming to her senses and going even redder than Rachel had earlier. 

Speaking of, Rachel’s gone a little pink again herself. She looks over at Max with a gaze as hungry as it is curious. “Man, you’re out for blood today, aren’t you?” 

“Just having a bit of fun,” Max assures with a smile, watching on in unabashed satisfaction as Chloe devolves into a grumbling, mumbling mess hiding her face in her hands.

[double--hh]

Henry, reluctantly exploring the Astral Circle Appartment Complex, "I swear, I hear a little girl around here, sound like shes nine or something... where's her parents?!"

Quachil, manifesting itself through a wall, "Mmm, I'm 15, so shut the fuck up."

___

*~imagine phones exist in the 50s~*

Ciprianni- can you shrow the hole vid

Steven- *show *whole

Ciprianni- I'm from Italy!!!!!!!!!!

Steven- I pound dudes!!!!!

___

Teutates, writing a very strongly worded letter to Abducius, "Yo, bro, what should I start this off with?"

Ah Puch, "...to whom it may aggravate?"

Teutates, "...Shit, no, that's now the title of a song, think of something else."

___

Anastacha, walking with her friends, "If you remove all veins, arteries, and capillaries from your body and lay them end to end, you will die...or whatever."

One of her friends, "...I'm starting to see why your dad left."

___

Robertsky, walking outside in a torrential thunderstorm, "I got a pocket full of sunshine... why'd you make me ginger?!"

Insert Robertsky getting struck by lightening.

___

Nacha, sitting in Mia & W's apartment with Mia, holding some failed essays from Anastacha...

Mia, "Nacha, I'm getting pretty worried about Anastacha, like, look at what she wrote for one of her essay openers, 'Buckle your seatbelts boys and girls, Teacher or whoever is reading this at this spectacular time in your life.. da-da-da... so sit down and shut up and listen to my 3-AM-Monster-Energy-ADHD-Medicine-Induced-Self-Hatred-Fulled-Extravaganza about the Industral Revolution... or whatever.'"

Nacha, sighing and pinching her eyebrows, "Why am I not surprised... That's the last time I'm letting Francis help her with school work."

___

Mia, two seconds away from a mental break down, knocking on the Rudboys' door.

Steven answers, "Oh! Mia! What's up?"

Mia, eye twitching, "Steven, take me to the range before I pull my hair out."

Steven, nodding, "Lemme grab Ciprianni, meet me downstairs."

~20 minuets later~

Mia, unloading a full magazine at moving targets, hitting all of them.

Ciprianni, mildly concerned, "How... the hell is she doing that?!"

Steven, watching her, "Man, she was a WAC, armorer type. Kinda in her blood."

Ciprianni, shaking his head, loading his pistol, "You Americans concern me."

___

Izaack, writting frivolously in his notebook, "Mn-hm, and anything else you'd like to add?"

Mia, chuckling, "Ah, yes, list the source as... 1984 by Gorge Orwell."

Izaack, stopping mid sentence and slowly glares at Mia, frowing, "...You did not just quote another book and passed it off as facts about the Trojan Horse Project again... did you?"

Mia, taking a sip of her coffee, "What? So I'm the bad guy for reccomenting you more books to read after your 'minute and minute' fiasco earlier today, Gauss?"

Izaack, scribbling out everything except for the book title, flipping it shut, "I'll have you know, Ms. Stone, I read every damn day and our teleprompter is new!"

Mia, smiling, "Oh you're such a phony, Izaack, it's amusing."

Izaack, snapping a finger at her, "Ah! Catcher in the Rye! J.D. Salinger!"

Mia, nodding, "So you do take my recommendations!"

___

The Schmicht's, moving into the Apartment, "Oh, Gloria, I think we did just right chosing this place!"

Gloria, smiling, "Yeah, yeah, watch there be some sort of fanclub for your novels!"

Anold, placing a box down, "Heh, I doubt it! I'm still trying to find a time and place for a meet and greet!"

The Sverchzt's, Lois, Margrette, and Rafttellyn, looking up from the stair case,

"Oh my god, is that the Arnold Schmicht?!"

"You think he can give up an early copy of Ceasefire of Hostility?!"

"I have GOT to get his signature!"

"Do you think we can invite the both of them to tomorrow's meeting?! He said his wife is his muse from the last interview!"

Gloria looks out the door and watches the group of book nerds scramble down the stairs, whispering to eachother.

"Bubbles, because you live on the same floor, you better share the spoilers!"

"Oh hush I will!"

Arnold, "Who was that, sweetie?"

Gloria, "Your fanclub."

[queen-of-the-avengers]

Everything Falls Into Place

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~2.4k

Warnings: fluff, worrying about not being able to adopt a child, anxiety

Request by anon: Aww if steve and vixen settle down imagine them fostering or adopting a child. In their words "adoption helps a kid"

Summary: You and Steve start the process of adopting a child. There are a lot of steps that you have to go through, including a background check. You're worried about your past as Vixen is finally going to bite you in the ass. This is it. This is the other shoe you've been waiting for to drop.

Cat and Mouse Masterlist

Squares Filled: social worker au (2021) for @star-spangled-bingo

Author’s Note: any and all comments are appreciated <3

x

Tick. Tock.

Tick. Tock.

Tick. Tock.

“What is taking her so long?” you sigh impatiently.

“She’s only been gone five minutes. Calm down,” Steve chuckles from beside you. Steve looks over at you to see you bouncing your leg from how nervous you are. You’re wringing your fingers together to keep yourself from biting your nails. “Y/N, you’re acting like a criminal who just got caught. Take a deep breath.”

“Steve, this woman is the decider on whether or not we have a child. Forgive me if I’m a little anxious.”

Your social worker, Amy, takes another ten minutes before she’s back in the office, and you let out a relieved sigh that she hasn’t kicked you out… yet.

“I am so sorry. We’re extremely backed up,” she says and takes a seat across from you.

“It’s no problem,” Steve smiles politely.

“So, you’re looking to adopt a child? It’s a big responsibility.”

“Yes, ma’am. We’ve actually been wanting this for a while now.”

“Why now? Why not then?”

You and Steve look at each other in thought. Maybe it’s because you two were out fighting in wars you had no business being in. Maybe it’s because you finally came face to face with Zemo again after so many years of being away from him, and you almost killed him. Maybe it’s because even though you think you’re ready to be parents… you’re actually not.

“We felt like the timing wasn’t right,” Steve finally answers and peels his eyes away from you.

“Have you always wanted to have children?”

“Yes, I have,” Steve answers honestly. “For as long as I could remember.”

“And you?” Amy asks.

“In the beginning, yes. I mean, when I was a lot younger. Some shit happened to me and I didn’t allow myself to feel that way until recently. Maybe in the last couple of years? I can’t have children biologically, but I do want one.”

“I never know how to ask this question despite how many years I’ve been doing this, but what kind of parents would you two be?”

“I can’t say for sure. How can anyone know for sure? We’ve never taken care of a child before. There will be obstacles that we might not know how to get over but I can tell you one thing. We will do our very best to make sure this child is loved, safe, and raised to be the best person they can be.”

“That’s a good answer,” Amy smiles and writes in her notebook. Steve rubs his thumb on the back of your hand comfortingly. “This is going to be a long process but I have confidence that it will go by quicker than you think.” She hands over a piece of paper to Steve. “Here is a list of everything I will be needing by the end of this week. Legal papers. You know how it goes. Next will be an extensive background screening for everyone living in the adoptive household. After that will be the in-home interview and inspection of the home.”

You don’t hear anything past background screening. What if they find out about Vixen? They won’t want to give you a child when they figure out how many people you’ve killed. What if they come for the home inspection and find your room of weapons? You’re not getting a kid.

“Okay,” you squeak out.

Steve notices your panic but decides not to say anything about it until you two leave the office building.

“What’s going on?”

“What if they find out about Vixen? The Winter Soldier? My time in Hydra?”

“They won’t--”

“What if they do?” you cut him off. “What if they don’t see me fit to be a mother? What about the guns and shit we have at the house? They’re not going to allow us to be parents with all that there.”

“Baby, you need to calm down. We’re going to do fine.”

His words go in through one ear and out the other. You hear him talk but you’re not listening to a word he’s saying. When you get home, you immediately head to the room with all your weapons and begin taking them off the wall. If you’re going to make this house suitable for a child, you have to make sure it’s safe for one.

“Y/N, it’s going to be fine.”

“No, it’s not. We live in a state where it’s illegal to carry outside your home. We aren’t even allowed to have this many weapons in the house.”

Steve knows you have to do this in order to make yourself feel better. He leaves you to box the weapons while he gets his phone out of his pocket. He calls Bucky, Sam, and Nat to come over because he thinks having them here is going to help you. He has always been the more level-headed one in the relationship which is why he’s being so calm about this. He has faith that everything is going to work out just fine.

“How long has she been like this?” Nat asks when she gets there.

“Since we left the social worker.” They know you and Steve have wanted a child for a while now. “Nothing I say matters.”

“Hey, Y/N,” Natasha says and walks into the room. “You doing okay?”

“No, I’m not. I have to get these weapons out of here. Can you keep them for a while?”

“Sure. You’re going to do just fine. If anyone deserves a kid, it’s you two.”

“No, it’s not okay. Amy is going to come in here and see all these weapons and she is not going to give us a child. This isn’t safe for one. Or she will know I’m Vixen and think wow, a mass murderer assassin doesn’t deserve a kid. Or she’ll know about Bucky, Thanos, and everything else we have done in our lives.”

“Would it help if we helped you?”

“Yeah,” you smile.

Bucky, Sam, Nat, and Steve help clear out the room until it’s bare. This is the room you’re going to use for the nursery. You don’t have any supplies since you’re not sure when you’re going to be getting a kid, so you’ll keep it bare for now. Bucky and Nat take the weapons to hold onto until this whole thing blows over. Your house has a basement that you can put them into only until after the inspections are done.

On the day of the interview and home inspection, you have cookies baking in the oven to give the home a sweet smell. You have been cleaning all day to ease your worries. Steve is nervous as hell but less than you are.

“I think this is the tenth time you fluffed that pillow.”

“It has to be perfect.”

“It is. You are. It’s going to be fine.”

“I know. It’s going to be great,” you smile. Amy shows up on the dot, and you let her in eagerly. “Welcome to our home. It’s good to see you again.”

“Thank you. Wow, smells good in here.”

“I have cookies that just left the oven. Would you like one?”

“No, thank you. I have two more visits to do. Not to sound rude but I’d like to get started right away.”

“Of course.”

You two lead her to the living room and sit across from her. Steve reaches for your hand and pulls it into his lap.

“To start with, why don’t you two tell me what you two do for a living?”

“We are employed with Stark Industries,” Steve says. Happy sends money to every Avenger on behalf of Tony. You don’t need a job when your job is saving people who need it. Does she not know you two are Avengers? “We make about two hundred thousand each every year.”

“Do you enjoy your work?”

“We love it. I can’t see myself doing anything else.”

“What are some of your hobbies?” Amy asks you.

“I love to sew. I love making my own clothes. I actually made my own wedding dress. It brings me peace whenever it’s just me, a needle, and some fabric.”

“And you?” Amy asks Steve while writing in her notebook.

“I like to draw, sometimes. I’ve been practicing more these days. I like to fish. We have a cabin up north that we like to go to when the weather is nice.”

“Tell me about your marriage, and how your relationship is with your significant other.”

You look at Steve and smile lovingly at him.

“There is nothing I wouldn’t do for this man. He has saved me in ways you can’t possibly imagine. He’s my best friend. Sure, we have our ups and downs, but there is nothing we can’t accomplish together.”

“She said it right,” Steve chuckles. “I love her with all of my being. Our marriage has been nothing but great for these past few years. I wouldn’t change it for the world.”

“That’s sweet,” Amy smiles and writes. “Tell me about your relationship with your parents.”

“Both our parents are dead. We don’t have any living relatives,” you answer. 

“To get with the technical questions, why do you want to adopt?”

“I’ve mentioned this before but I’m sterile. I can’t have children on my own. I know Steve wants a family. This is the only way I know how to give it to him. We don’t want to do fostering or a surrogate. We feel like it’s more our style to adopt.”

“What she said,” Steve chuckles.

“If granted the opportunity to adopt, what are your hopes for your child?”

“That they’re a good person,” Steve answers. “That they’ll see someone who needs help and will want to do that for them. Who will love unconditionally.”

“Alright,” Amy writes. “This is everybody’s least favorite section. I’ve done your background checks.” Your heart drops. This is it. This is where she tells you that you can’t adopt. “Now my main concern is your work with Hydra. You are the Vixen.”

“Were,” you correct. “I’m not that person anymore. Yes, I have done a lot of bad things in my life. Things you can’t possibly imagine. That isn’t who I am now. I have healed from that part of me. I got help. I made amends. I got Hydra out of my head. I don’t associate myself with those people anymore.”

“What about Bucky?”

“Bucky is healed, as well,” Steve takes over. “He went to Wakanda and underwent the same thing she did. They’re both trying to move on from their past.”

“That’s all it is, Amy. It’s my past. It’s not my present and it sure as hell isn’t going to be my future.”

Amy goes through more routine questions before she gets ready for the house inspection. You tell her the plans you have for the empty room which will be the nursery. She doesn't say much but she does write a lot of stuff down.

“Thank you for coming,” you say when she is done.

“I’ll be touch.”

As soon as the front door is closed, your smile is lost.

“God, we’re not going to get a kid. Did you see the look on her face when she mentioned Vixen? She knows I’ve killed before. What person would want me to be a mother?”

Steve pulls you close and lets you vent. “We won’t know more for a while. Let’s just try and keep a calm head. Even if she says no, we can try other avenues. We will be parents. You’d be a loving mother.”

And wait you did. For two long weeks. You thought that was their way of telling you that you weren't going to have a kid. Until your phone rang and changed your entire life.

“Hello?” you answer frantically.

“Hi, Y/N? I have some news regarding your adoption application.” You and Steve wait with held breaths. “I am very happy to say you’ve been approved. I can’t wait to work with you.”

“We can get a kid?” you ask tearfully.

“That’s the first part of the process. We have sent in your application to mothers who are looking to put their children up for adoption. If and when they pick you, I will call with the next steps.”

“Thank you so much.” You cry when she hangs up. “We’re getting a kid.”

Steve pulls you in and kisses the top of your head emotionally. You have to wait for a birth mother to pick you so until then, you just have to wait. Most couples wait months or even years to get called, but you get a call from Amy only a couple of days later with a date set to meet a birth mother who chose your application among a few others. You’re nervous as hell because what if she doesn’t pick you? What if she hates you as soon as she meets you?

You get to the office where the meetings are held and wait for Amy and the birth mother to come. Her name is Jessica and she is too young to be having a kid. She is only twenty-three and she doesn't want kids at this age. Maybe when she is older but definitely not now.

Jessica walks in and seems to be about six months pregnant. She just came back from meeting a potential couple, so you straighten up and smooth down your skirt to make yourself look more presentable.

“Hi, it’s nice to meet you two. My name is Jessica.”

“Y/N and this is my husband, Steve. Thank you for seeing us.”

“Yeah, I was intrigued when I read about your hobbies and your work with Stark Industries. Did you know Tony?”

“Uh, yeah.” You look at Steve and have a silent conversation through your eyes. If she is going to pick you, she should know exactly who you are. “I hope this doesn’t affect us negatively but he’s Captain America and I’m… Vixen.”

It takes Jessica all of five seconds before she starts crying. This is it. This is where she runs for the hills and gets you blacklisted from ever adopting a child.

“Captain America saved my life,” she sniffles. “I was visiting a friend in Sokovia when Ultron happened. You saved me.” She turns to Amy and wipes her eyes. “I don’t want to see anyone else.” She looks at you with a teary smile. “I can’t think of anyone better to care for my child than you two.”

“I’ll get the paperwork started,” Amy smiles and leaves the room.

You can’t believe what you’re hearing. You’re getting a kid. You’re getting a kid. You’re finally able to start your own family.

x

Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary​​​​​​ where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

[sunny-ssunset]

Unbearable.

Kyle broflovski x Mute! Rebellious! Fem! Reader

divider from pinterest

Masterlist!

♡This is my first oneshot i'm really sorry if it is cringe i am really new to writing and hopefully this is good. AGED UP

♡If you have any feedback please like message me or comment something i am always looking to improve my writing.

He knew who she was, Of course he did. Watching and waiting until she was taken into the principals office, Over, And Over. And again.

Kyle knew she didnt really communicate. He knows that She wasn't good at listening, He knows about her small habits. The way she twiddles her hair when she's frustrated.

However Little did kyle know that one small action would change his perspective of her forever.

divider by @k1ssyoursister

The bell rang and there she was storming out as fast as possible, Kyle didnt really understand why she did that, why she was so desperate to leave. She didnt have anywhere to be? He'd know of course.

His eyes glued to her fast paced movements, her silky h/c hair flowing as she walked, walked? no actually she was striding? Maybe charging? Or-

"Khal? What the fuck man?" He looked at Kyle with a displeased eye. "We were supposed to leave for lunch ages ago why are you just standing here looking at her?" Emphasising his tone on her, Whilst Kyle snapped out of his trance.

"Yeah dude you've been watching her for the past three days its fucking weird." Stan piped up, Kyle glanced at him, looking a bit betrayed.

"But guys she like- doesn't talk, h-how is that- how does she-" He sighed, failing miserablely at justifying his case.

"Why should it matter if she doesn't talk? Kenny barely talks?" Getting a huff from Kenny in agreement

"But thats- thats different I dont understand-" "You guys its taco tuesday we are missing outttt" Cartman interjects, He then goes on about how women are lame and that he is soooo hungryy...

Kyle shook her off his mind, I mean surely she didnt think about him like this.... Right?

After sitting down in the cafeteria, Kyle looking for Y/n, Stan talking about Wendy, Cartman stuffing his face,

"Hey I'm gonna go grab my notebook? I think I left it in class." "Yeah dude thats fine see you later"

He darted out if the cafeteria, Retracing his steps back to his maths room, And in the corner of his eye he saw her.

She looked a bit disheveled, frantically looking into every drawer in the empty classroom. Kyle's gaze sharpened, He really didnt understand her. He has always been good at reading people. He can tell someones personality from a subtle movement. But he just couldnt understand Y/n, And he hated it. He hated how no matter how hard he tried, You just wouldnt open up. Kyle hated it he found you so unbearable.

Kyles daydream was interupted by Mr Mackey's voice,

"Y/n this is the third time I'm seeing you here like this. I'm going to have to send you to the principals office M'k-"

"Its my fault- I told her to get something for me." Y/n, Mr Mackey and Kyle all share a look of shock, Kyle not understanding why that came out of his mouth, Why he felt the need to save her.

"Mkay well im still gonna have to punish you so detention today after school both of you"

Divider by @k1ssyoursister

As the day went on Kyle stressed about his detention, "PAHAHAHAHA KYLE- AHHAHA DENTENTION-!!!" "Shut up Cartm-" The school bell cut him off in Kyles advantage.

"I just want to get this over with and not talk about it for the rest of my life"

"Y/n And Kyle sitting in a tr-" "SHUT THE FUCK UP FATASS!" Kyle growled, Storming off to his dentention.

As he walked into the room, Y/n was already there, "Ah Kyle you are hear I trust you can keep an eye on her as i know you usually dont get into trouble M'kay, I'll fill out some errands outside if you guys just do some homework, M'kay?"

The clock ticked as Kyle hurried on with his homework, Until a note got passed to him. He looked up at Y/n, Confused he opened the note,

'Hey stalker.'

Shit she knew all along. He thought he was being slick.... :(

Kyle fumbled not really knowing what to write back

'Hi.'

He passed to note on, Red faced avoiding eyecontact.

'Thank you for helping me'

She looked up at him, tilting her head, she smiled with an expecting eye, she passed the note back on. In the corner of his eye, Kyle saw another note. He opened it up and decided not to write one back.

"Your welcome, to be honest i dont think you should just be sent away like that" He smiled, Still feeling a bit shy. Y/n smiled at him.

"Your just saying that cuz you like me." She smirked, a michevious glint in her eye.

"Y-You talk?" Kyle gasped, looking a little shocked as he realised how rude that came off, "Sorry I- uhm-"

"Sometimes." She smiled.

"I uhm- would you like to go out sometime, You know because i "Like you" "He chuckled, looking a bit embarrassed, A pink glow on his face. She giggled, nodding back to him. I guess she wasnt as unbearable as he thought.

divider by @k1ssyoursister

[corbits-comet]

writing tools tips and tricks I personally use

I write historical fiction and am very detail oriented and also highly forgetful so this is the stuff I use to plan my story and so I don’t forget stuff

STUFF U NEED

-notebook or google doc (I use a combination of both) 

-internet access or a public library and the ability to read 

-your big beutiful brain you’ve got swirling around up there 

You really don’t need any fancy shit

  PRECURSORS. 

You’ll need to come up with a concept or a character dynamic you like. For me it came with: two detectives who have a bitter rivalry, and then the setting, extra characters and plot line fell into place. 

Day dreaming— this is a vital step, as soon as you get a concept, or even just a character dynamic in your head, put on some of your favorite music that you feel like might match the vibe and get imagining, just play around see what happens

Write that shit down. It seems stupid but trust me write down ever little idea you have, nothing has to go in order, you can write the ending and then the beginning and then the middle for all anyone cares. If you get ideas for scenes or side characters halfway through developing your main characters WRITE IT DOWN. Even if it’s shit and dosnt get used. 

Start stitching stuff together, start weaving in your favorite troupes, plot lines and ideas, for me it went from the rivalry to then the idea of a stalker, then the additional idea of adding political rivalry, murder, aristocracy and eventually a fully fleshed out story. Just keep adding stuff until it feels round, you can always add and subtract 

Now character work. For me at least I don’t need to know everything about the story before I start writing but I do need to know everything about the characters. I start with just doing a big infodump on each characters personality traits and their function in the story. And that’s it for now, that’s the first step. The second one is I go through the dynamics between the main characters, for example I have two main characters so I write about how they feel about eachother respectively, and then how each of them feel about the villan, the stalker, and a few other main characters etc. this will help you with scenes and character development. The third and final one I like to do is actually a character work excercises off tumblr (I found it on Pinterest here’s the link, https://www.pinterest.com/pin/1038501995319442405/ no clue who wrote it so if anyone knows I’ll gladly credit them <3) and after that I usually have a pretty good grasp on what my main characters think and feel about most things in the story. You can go farther by I typically don’t

Alright by now you probably have at least an idea of what kind of setting you want to have your story in so now it’s time to start worldbuilding. Like I said I mostly write historical fiction so this step will look a little different if you’re making your own world and stuff but the basics are pretty much the same. RESEARCH. Find and read anything you can on anything relevant to your story, for me that’s geographical locations, town layouts, early zoning, social hiarchies, medicine, law and religion, as well as the functions of certian poisons used for the murders in my story. But this can look like anything. Writing FNAF fanfiction? Get prints on the layout, and if you’re making your own look up layouts of old 80’s pizzareas and accounts from people that worked there. Get the links and keep them all on a document, for later…

Lists. While all this is happening I have two lists going, one of things that I know I want to happen in the story. You don’t have to have a coherent plot line, just a general idea and then as you start working on it you’ll accrew some ideas, write these down. Even if they’re shit. You want forced proximity with the main rivals? Do it. You want a certian character to get hurt? Do it. They don’t have to have a sensical order, this is so you don’t lose track of all the cool stuff you think of. The second list is one of side characters. They don’t have to have names yet, a few of mine are ‘old richy rich mcmoneybags’ and ‘crazy old bag McGee’ and then a brief character description about what they do in the story. These characters can be even more important than the main ones, and ones your readers will remeber forever.  

And the last is one of the best writing advice I’ve ever gotten. Write your first draft like total shit. It’s a map for your story, for you to go back in and fill in later, if you think of something for the future midway, put it in and fix it later. And most importantly; you don’t have to write in order. Write what you know, what you’re excited for. Just tiny scene by tiny scene. And then start stringing them together and fill in the gaps

Now go my minions. Write your story’s. also! Tumblr writing advice can be worth its weight in gold.

[ceilingfan5]

"Yeah I’m fully understanding the murder part, just not why you’re the one who needs to solve it??"

“So you’re not like, a cop? You gotta tell me, you know, legally you gotta tell me, if you’re a fuckin’ cop, my man.” Taako folds his arms, his shirt with the piñata fringe making this look a lot less serious than he intended. 

“I swear to you, I am not a cop,” Detective Kravitz says. “See, it says so, on my business card.” He hands Taako a business card with shiny red lettering on matte black, KRAVITZ. Private Detective for Hire. Not a cop. 

Taako flips it over. On the back is a glossy magnifying glass, highlighting his phone number. Taako snickers and pockets it. He tugs his holographic cargo skirt back up and squints at Kravitz. Kravitz poses awkwardly, trying to look serious, but not too serious, but not too unprofessional. Dork. Taako wants to eat him.

“Yeah, okay. You’re too stylish to be a cop.”

Kravitz beams, which makes Taako feel really warm suddenly. He shouldn’t be blushing. He kind of forgot he still could. 

“Anyway, I was wondering if you had any-”

“Hot clues, Scooby-doo?” Taako teases. He hops up to sit on the counter and surveys his thrift store kingdom. He crosses his legs, and watches Kravitz catch an enticing flash as he kicks his legs up. That’s right, dork, look. Look allll you want. 

“Ah, I was going to say insight, any insight into the murders committed outside your loading dock last night?”

“Aw shit, there were murders? I’m gonna barf.” Taako tries really hard to look distressed. This is sort of difficult, because he was the one who sort of exsanguinated those assholes. And they didn’t even taste that good. 

“I,” Kravitz blinks, taking out a notebook, and pulling a sleek black pen from behind his ear. God, this idiot is cute. It isn’t fair. “I was under the impression you were the one who called it in?”

“Um, nah,” Was he? Fuck. No, no, uh, he made someone else do it. Who was working this morning. “I think Magnus found ‘em, he was pretty shocked.” 

“Oh, sorry, I thought-” Kravitz scrawls something on his dumb little notebook. “Remind me your name, then, if you don’t mind?”

“Taako,” Taako says, instantly regretting not choosing an alias. He is sort of wearing a nametag, though. Not that he has to cooperate with this investigation. “Do we really have to talk about this? I feel like I’m going to pass out.”

“I’m sorry to hear that, Taako, but I’m trying to solve this murder.” 

"Yeah I’m fully understanding the murder part, just not why you’re the one who needs to solve it?" 

“Well,” Kravitz puts down his notebook, pausing. He chews something over in his head. “I don’t want to say anything untoward about the police, but,” and then he looks at Taako pointedly, and Taako snorts. 

“Yeah, I mean, you’re right, but weren’t they like. Trying to break into the place? They-” Whoops, don’t incriminate your own dumb vampire ass! “Magnus said they had guns?” 

“Good to know,” Kravitz says, pointedly writing something else down. Taako sweats. He smells really good. Like, really good. Why the fuck does he have to be playing Inspector Gadget? Can’t he come keep Taako warm at night instead? 

“Anyway, I gotta put out some more inventory. Treasure Adventure isn’t gonna thrift itself.” And he hops off the counter. Kravitz looks at him, mouth a funny line. 

“Taako, are board games with missing pieces and bead purses from 2005 more important than lives, snuffed out, by some kind of murderer?” 

“Lot of other kinds of people snuffing out lives these days?” Taako snaps. “You wanna say monsters or dickheads next?” 

“Taako, is there anything you want to elaborate on?”

“No, I don’t think there is,” Taako says firmly. “Maybe I’m just feeling unsafe in my workplace, asshole, you ever think of that? It’s terrifying to- be- here! I gotta keep selling garbage? For minimum wage? Where something like that happened! What if those guys were coming to stick the place up and I was the one that got murdered, would you be as persistent about that case, Columbo?” 

“Yes,” Kravitz says, eyes wide. His heart is pounding more about the awkward situation than it was about the dead bodies. He has a little arrhythmia. It’s kind of cute. “Of course I would.”

Taako throws his hands in the air and exclaims wordlessly, and marches off, which is the only way he saw out of the conversation. Kravitz, to his credit, stands there looking sweaty, and then goes to bother another employee instead. 

Taako hides in the breakroom and pretends he doesn’t feel weird about it. He pretends he doesn’t care about it at all. 

Funny, how things might have been different if someone had cared to look into what happened when he died. 

But he doesn’t want to think about that. He wants to think about seducing that trenchcoat-wearing loser away from the lawful side. Yeah, that’s it. For sure.