i know today is day six

3

So… This happened last night. Splenic torsion. No stomach or intestinal issues, just the spleen. Spent six hours at the emergency vet, and he had surgery this morning at 2-3 am. He’s in at his primary care vet for post op care today, and I bring him home tonight. He’s alive, though now without a spleen. The two pictures at the bottom are before and after surgery so you can see the big difference in body language.

So if we’re a little quiet for the next few days or weeks, that’s why.

Lastly, if you own a deep chested large dog, please do your research on bloat and torsion. Know the signs. If I had waited to bring Bear in, this would have become a life threatening or fatal condition. I moved quickly, so the surgery was easy and he is going to be okay.

The Types and Drinking Water

ENFP: Drinks from the toilet. It wasn’t even a dare or anything; they just wanted to know what it tasted like.

ENTP: “h20? More like h2-YO! Hahaha drink your water kids.”

INFP: Misses their entire mouth. Their over-sized sweater is utterly soaked, almost as if their nipples are tiny water falls. Shocked at this sudden development, they drop the glass and it shatters, covering the kitchen floor. Trying to tiptoe to safety, they carelessly slip on the water and onto the broken glass, nearly bleeding to death. As soon as they get discharged from the hospital they’re applying for an infomercial.

ESFP: Sticks their face right under the tap and desperately laps up the water like some kind of deranged and unsettlingly large house cat.

INTJ: * sips water* “ Disgusting. Tastes like licking a car. And you know why? The water we drink contains small traces of iron, zinc, copper, manganese and other metals. And you know who’s fault that is? Our inCOMPETENT GOVERNMENT.  THEY NEED TO STEP UP TO THE PLATE AND GET THEIR SH** TOGETHER. THEY’VE BEEN LYING TO US AS A NATION FROM THE BEGINNING OF TIME AND IT’S TIME FOR A CHANGE. 

See more of my conspiracy theories on my tumblr blog @anti-feminism-pro-atheism ( the one with red and black theme and the Rainbow Dash icon).”

ISFJ: Has been refusing offers of a glass of water from their friend’s parent for 10 hours now and they’re really reaching their limit. Will probably resolve to drinking their pee Bear Grylls style.

ESTP: Kicks off the faucet, throws it through the window, screams, and lets the broken faucet drench them all the way from their flat peak cap to their $400 basketball shoes, their perfect abs showing through their wet t-shirt. Uploads it to vine.

INTP: * aggressively sips water through a Krazy Straw* SUCC  ( ͡ʘ ͜ʖ ͡ʘ) 

ENFJ: *Makes it into Fit Tea™* “ This flattened my stomach, cleared my skin, watered my crops, improved my grades, brought Shakespeare back from the dead, got my parents back together, stopped war, solved poverty, and it tastes like Shrek in drink form GREAT. A discount code is in the description, guys! :D.”

ENTJ: Drinks the tears of all those ignorant fools they destroyed in the Spelling Bee last week. 

ISTP: They’re probably chained to a pillar in some empty warehouse as a result of a drug scandal. The only sustenance they receive is a mug of muddy water brought to them by a man in an anonymous mask twice a day. Free them.

INFJ: “Is this vegan?”

ISFP: Drinks the morning dew off the tulips and honeysuckle. It may sound whimsical in theory, but in reality seeing grown adult desperately licking wet grass and flowers in the town park is a rather unsettling experience. 

ESFJ: “Umm, tap water? No thanks. I only drink from my $20000 ultra healing magical energy quinoa infused crystals water filter I got off an infomercial thank you very much. The lady in the commercial says tap water gives you cancer and I trust her judgement. I even have her book, “ “vaccine” and “autisms” both haave six letter. Coinsidance? I think noot.”, wanna borrow it?”       

ISTJ: * Harry Potter Puppet Pals Snape voice* Today I drank some water for my breakfast. It was flavourless and watery. I thought of my mother. I cried.

ESTJ: Has one of those drink bottles with times written at different levels on the side to show you how much water you should be drinking throughout the day. It gives them a feeling of superiority knowing that their life is slightly more organised than everyone else.

Day Ninety-Six

-I found a get well card that featured a large bucket of golden retriever puppies under the word, “Heal.” This is potentially the single most pure thing in all of creation.

-A woman leaned over the counter and whispered to me confidentially that the Internet had told her to come into the store today. I have many questions for her, but first and foremost, I would like to know what she would do if the Internet told her to jump off of a bridge.

-I rang up a woman whose actual, legitimate, legal, god-given name was Mulania. The world is truly an enchanted place.

-A woman thanked me. Her toddler gave me a high five. Her infant stuck her tongue out at me. Work has never been so rewarding.

-A man purchased 180 infant clothes hangers. Wherever this child is, they have a wardrobe to rival the stars.

-A young man shouted in agony. His friends asked if he was okay. Dejectedly, he told them, “I was trying to screenshot that one nude.” His companions consoled him with nothing less than complete sincerity and compassion. This is a friendship the likes of which I have never seen before.

have you met my six children: redux!

i think i got a little bit carried away remixing this thing with the 6oc book cover because that seemed like a good idea today  ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

(original six of crows jacket art and design by rich deas)

Back Massages

Pairing: Dylan x Reader

Author: @ninja-stiles

Words: 2393

Warnings: unprotected sex, explicit language

Authors Note: I’m really excited about this one! There will also be a part two that I’ll have to start working on! I want to thank @thelittlestkitsune for mentioning to me for this to be sinful and giving me a few pointers! A HUGE thanks goes to @smutandahalf for reading this over plenty of times and helping me express what I was saying better and helping on a few parts I didn’t know how to explain. 

Keep reading

@artofcrows first event → favorite characters week : inej ghafa 


hm i tried to finish my inej portrait but i was barely able to draw one (1) eye and i gave up ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ so here have a panel of me trying to figure out how to draw my babe inej ghafa treasure of my heart

also much credit to burdge tbh because i use her art as reference way too much (one day ill figure out how to have my own style but today is apparently not the day)

Day with Dad.

anon request where spencer & reader have a six year old daughter. one day the reader i sick so spence spends the day with his little one (-:

a/n: I’ve read one shots where the daughter’s name is Harper as in Harper Lee the author so I used that in this story, i can’t for the life of me remember who’s fic it was so if anyone knows who i’m referring to pls tell me. i’m gonna try to figure it out so i can give them credit for the name but right now my mind is blank. i think it was @dontshootmespence but i can’t be sure?? gaaaahhhhh anyway enjoy this i hope u like it!

Originally posted by visions-of-brighter-love

Due to your tossing and turning all night you hadn’t slept very well. Thankfully, your husband had a flexible work day today and you had off. At 9 am — possibly the latest your six year old daughter ever slept in — you opened your eyes and began to say good morning to Spencer, but your throat was so sore that it hurt.

He furrowed his eyebrows. He lifted the back of his hand to your forehead and commented, “You’re warm. How are you feeling, do you think you might be sick?”

“I didn’t sleep much last night,” you admitted weakly. “I’m probably sick. My throat hurts, I have a headache, and I’m hot and cold at the same time.”

He pouted. “I’m sorry, love. I’m going to spend the day with Harper so you can get some rest.” Spencer gave you medicine and everything else you’d need, kissed your forehead, and closed the bedroom door behind him after getting ready for the day ahead of him.

Keep reading

Proximity (03)-Forty Percent

Prompt: Sebastian meets his newest neighbor and immediately finds her to be an interesting and genuine person. Before he knows it, he’s developing feelings for his much younger friend that he tries not to act on because of their age difference, only the proximity of their lives has other things in store for the couple.

Tag List: @sebstanwassup, @starkxpotts, @kyleannsmut, @joshuad-n, @bucky-bear-barnes, @metal-arm-red-star, @dammnnbucky, @crystallimythium, @harleenquinzzel, @camillechan, @marvelouslyloki, @msdrmarvel, @-tulipsunflower-, @shakzer00, @sebstan01, @kitty11223, @one-of-the-boys, @come-and-figure-me-out, @miraisnotavailable, @ladymelissastark, @msharleyquinn, @seargantbcky, @ballerinafairyprincess, @yourgayonlinemom, @broken-pieces, @bubblyanarocks3

Warnings: some language, upset Seb, jealous Tom

A/N: it’s kind of long but I hope y'all like it. The next part will be (maybe) shorter and focus more on the reader’s pov during this part. PLEASE let me know what you think :)


Proximity (00)-Prologue, Proximity (01)-My Place at Six, Proximity (02)-Just My Neighbor, Proximity (04)-Writing My Goodbyes, Proximity (05)-If You Want,  Proximity (06)-Oblivion, Proximity (07)-IDFC, Proximity (08)-Last Night, Proximity (09)-Boo at the Zoo pt.1, Proximity (10)-Boo at the Zoo Pt.2, Proximity (11)-Girlfriend 


For the rest of the night, since (Y/N) abruptly left Sebastian’s apartment, he couldn’t help thinking what went wrong. Each moment of interaction flashed through his memory with excitement and glee. Her laugh, her smile, how perfect it felt to have her wrapped under his arm and leaning into his side. Maybe that was the problem… 

The following morning, Sebastian listened closely for any indication that (Y/N) was awake yet. It was a Saturday, which meant (Y/N) shouldn’t have anything planned and was more than likely still in bed. Just as he made up his mind to text her to see if everything was okay, his phone started to ring in his hand.

“Hey,” she said in an airy tone.

“Good morning,” he greeted, his voice much more groggy than expected.

“I’m real sorry about last night,” she hurried to say.

“Don’t worry about it,” he said as he rolled onto his back and shoved his free hand through his hair. “You’re okay though, right?”

“Yeah, yeah I’m okay,” she said, her voice softer than normal which only lead him to paying more attention to the rise and fall of her breaths through the phone.

“Good,” he stated before filing the awkwardness of the conversation growing. “I’m sorry if I did anything to make you feel uncomfortable.”

“No, Seb,” she sighed with a forced laugh in her voice. “It wasn’t you. I just had a pretty rough day and–”

“And forgetting about your homework–”

“Did not help at all,” she laughed as they continued to finish the other’s sentences.

“Well, are you doing anything today?” he asked hesitantly, not wanting to know if it was too early to be asking her to hang out again.

“Come on, Seb, you know I don’t make plans until I’ve had caffeine,” she grumbled. “Want to come down for coffee?” (Y/N)’s heart started pounding as she heard the words leaving her mouth. She couldn’t believe that not even six hours after her bathroom breakdown, where she vowed not to get any closer to him romantically, that she was asking him over to her place.

“I actually got a text from Anthony a few minutes ago; Chris, Elizabeth, and Tom are all in the area and we are going to meet up and get breakfast at Veselka,” Sebastian stated. 

“What’s that?” (Y/N) asked as she rolled over onto her side and shoved her phone between her head and the pillow.

“A little Ukrainian spot on second,” he said, fighting the urge to fall back asleep.

“Oh, well have fun then,” she said softly, trying not to sound upset.

“You do realize I’m inviting you, you dork,” he laughed.

“Well, Sebastian, you did not say ‘(Y/N) would you like to ’–” she was cut short by his groaning from the other end of the line which was completely audible through her ceiling.

“(Y/N), would you like to join me at breakfast this morning?” he asked as his laugh continued to echo through each of their bedrooms.

“Will there be coffee?” she asked back.

“Yes, (Y/N) there will be coffee.”

“Okay, but I’m holding you to it. If there’s no coffee–”

“If there’s no coffee then you and I will find a coffee shop, leave, and then come back with enough caffeine to keep both of us satisfied, okay?”

“Sounds like a plan, Stan,” she chuckled.

“Oh God,” he huffed. “You’re back on that again?”

“Who said I was ever off it?” she teased. “See you in ten?”

“Meet in the lobby!” With that their conversation ended and each returned to their solitary lives. Quickly, Sebastian responded to the group chat.

Chococcino: I’m headed toward the restaurant.

Chrissy Boo Bear: I’ll be there in fifteen

Thin Lizzy: I put in a reservation for five

Vanilla Ice: Make it six, please

Spidey-Kid: Is Robert in town?

Vanilla Ice: I invited my neighbor, if you guys don’t mind

Spidey-Kid: Is she hot?

Chococcino: T.F. Tom!? Have you seen sexy sea bass?

Thin Lizzy: I added another, Sebastian

Spidey-Kid: It was just a question, tweety bird.

Vanilla Ice: Thanks Liz

Chococcino: Come on, kid. Birds eat bugs for breakfast

Spidey-Kid: You can’t scare me into not coming, especially not that Sebastian’s sexy roommate is coming

Chrissy Boo Bear: I believe her name in Seb’s phone is Cute Neighbor, but you were close Tom

Upon reading that last message, Sebastian turned his phone onto silent, slid into a pair of jeans, and pulled a sweater over his head. He snatched his house keys from the kitchen counter, grabbed his leather jacket from the coat hook, dropped his phone into his back pocket and hurried to the elevator, only to be stopped on the floor below him by (Y/N) jumping on.

“Wow,” she sighed upon looking at him. “You’re way more dressed up than me.”

“I’m wearing jeans,” he protested.

“Well normally you only wear basketball shorts and a t-shirt. Jeans are an improvement.” Sebastian rolled his eyes at her as she filed into the elevator and leaned against the thin rail behind them. He looked over her body as her knee high tan boots traveled along her legging clad legs, a loose burgundy sweater fell to her mid thighs beneath a black leather jacket, and the red, pink, and grey silk scarf he got as a souvenir/thank you gift for watching his house while he was in China, hung around her neck.

“You look great, (Y/N),” he smiled as his eyes finally landed on hers. (Y/N) fought the fluttering of her heart as tickled her ribs the second she noticed Sebastian’s eyes trail her body. Just friends, (Y/N), she told herself. You’re just friends. Realizing they were less than a mile from the restaurant, the pair started walking. It didn’t take longer than for the pair to walk a block down the road before he was spotted by some fans.

“Sebastian!” a few teenage girls yelled while flocking toward him.

“Hi,” he smiled while waving gingerly to them, stopping in his tracks as they tried to take photos. Quietly, (Y/N) tried to hide herself behind Sebastian or jump out of the photo’s frame as the girls approached.

“Do you mind taking a picture with us?” the girls asked.

“Not at all!” Sebastian smiled to the girls as they quickly pressed themselves on each side of him and tried to take a selfie.

“Here,” (Y/N) offered while stepping toward the collection of people crouched, trying to get the perfect shot of their favorite celebrity. She took each of the girl’s cell phones and took at lead three photos on each phone before returning them to the teens.

“Thank you so much!” one of the girls cooed to Sebastian and then turned toward (Y/N). “You’re a life saver!!”

“You’re so lucky,” another started fawn over (Y/N) as she glanced over her shoulder at Sebastian.

“Excuse me?” (Y/N) asked only for the girls’ attention to flow back toward Sebastian.

“We don’t want to keep you,” they smiled before walking past (Y/N) and making obscene sexual gestures with their hands and whispering ‘bag him for the rest of us’ out of Sebastian’s earshot. Quickly, Sebastian slid his hand along (Y/N)’s arm as she stared after the teenagers who had just pranced away.

“Come on, we’re going to be late,” he said while pulling her along and locking his arm in hers, in a protective manner as they passed a number of strangers, all giving her strange looks. She could see the gears turning in their heads: they second guess whether they actually saw the Winter Soldier on the street and then once they realized they had in fact seen the actor, they do a double take only to see the all too young, awkward, and average girl beside him.


(Y/N) had hoped that the negative looks and attention she received would fade as they got to the restaurant, but was sadly mistaken. Of course the group of Avengers casually gathered together for breakfast drew attention to themselves, but the onlookers’ confusion was only enhanced when presented with the newest, most unrecognizable face at the table: (Y/N)’s. Who was she? Was she a new Avenger character being introduced in Infinity War? Was she Sebastian Stan’s latest play thing?

She was thankful as Sebastian pulled out a chair for her that was blocked from a lot of people’s sight due to the proximity of the chairs seated around the rather small table. She slid in gracefully with a shy smile on her face, trying not to stare at anyone looking at her for too long. Sebastian fell into a seat beside her and smiled at his friends as he shrugged his coat from his shoulders.

“Sorry we’re late,” Sebastian muttered as he turned backwards to hang the coat on the back of his chair. “We got stopped by some fans.” (Y/N) immediately wanted to correct him and say ‘you were stopped,’ but thinking back to the interaction, she realized that he three girls said more to her in passing than to him.

“I can see why,” Tom muttered under his breath as his eyes diverted from (Y/N) to the menu in front of him. Is this fucking real? she thought to herself as her heart pounded in her chest. Some random teenage girls encourage her to fuck Sebastian five minutes before Tom Holland inadvertently hits on her…is this the life she’s going to have to get used to so long as she keeps Sebastian in her life?

“I’m so sorry,” Sebastian muttered while turning back to the table and gesturing toward the girl on his left. “Everyone, this is (Y/N); (Y/N), this is Anthony Mackie, Lizzie Olsen, Tom Holland, and Chris Evans,” Seb introduced everyone around the table from his right around to her left.

“Hi,” she smiled lightly and crossed her legs uneasily beneath the table.

“It’s nice to meet you,” Elizabeth smiled adjacent to (Y/N).

“We’re glad you could make it,” Chris’s voice invaded her left ear.

“Thanks for inviting me,” she smiled softly at each of them.

“It was our pleasure,” Tom replied with a smirk. (Y/N) fought the blush that threatened to rise into her cheeks.

“Stay in your lane, Ketchum,” Anthony teased. “She’s not a femme fatale like Hilda.”

“The fact that you knew that both startles and impresses me,” (Y/N) laughed at Anthony’s Pokemon Black and White reference.

“I have three kids; there is no silence, there is only Pokemon,” he groaned through laughter.

“For once you’re the only one in the group with kids,” Sebastian teased.

“Yeah,” Chris added, “normally you’ve got Robert or Jeremy.”

“Now I’ve got a bunch of young singletons,” he chuckled. “You are single, right?” he asked while locking eyes on (Y/N).

“Um, yeah,” she said softly. Anthony tried not to notice the smile begin to fade from Sebastian’s lips nor the one on Tom’s face begin to grow. “I’ve just been really busy and it wouldn’t be fair for me to be in a relationship when I can’t give any more than forty percent,” she tried to explain.

“Forty percent?” Chris asked.

“My schedule is pretty full,” she said and ducked her head, trying not to have the destiny of the situation fall even more heavily on her shoulders.

“(Y/N)’s working at CUNY’s undergraduate English department as a student teacher while working on a master’s degree in forensic psychology at John Jay,” Sebastian explained, lightly dancing around the situation in hopes that the others don’t draw too much into their situation.

“That’s incredible,” Lizzie said from across the table. “Become the female Spencer Reid; men can wait!” (Y/N) laughed as Lizzie smiled. A low, forced chuckle, escaped Sebastian’s lips.

“Isn’t Spencer Reid that skinny nerdy kid on Criminal Minds?” Anthony asked.

“The one who’s a literal genius?” Tom interjected.

“That’s the one,” Seb smirked proudly.

“Damn, that’s a lot to live up to,” Anthony laughed.

“Not really,” Sebastian added while putting his hand gently on (Y/N)’s arm.

“Seb, come on,” she laughed.

“Seriously, though, she has a genius level IQ, give or take three points.”

“Oh gosh this is embarrassing,” (Y/N) muttered as the table laughed At their collective chattering, (Y/N) felt her heart lift and a smile curl onto her face.

“Don’t think of it as being embarrassing,” Chris encouraged her, “we’ve come to understand Sebastian loves to brag about his cute neighbor.” (Y/N) dropped her face to her menu and Sebastian’s ears turned red. He offered a light, embarrassed laugh as he faced the rest of the table. Sensing the young woman’s discomfort, Elizabeth rose from the table and asked if (Y/N) would join her to wash up before their food arrived. Quickly, (Y/N) left along side Lizzie and the four men continued the conversation.

“Come on guys,” Sebastian groaned.

“We’re just shooting the shit with you,” Anthony chuckled.

“I know what you’re doing,” Seb stated.

“Well then pick up on it,” Chris replied. “She’s great, man.”

“Wait, are you serious about her?” Tom asked hesitantly.

“What do your spidey-senses say?” Anthony teased.

“Why, what’s wrong with that?” Sebastian asked Tom, shocked to find himself questioning the kid for dating advice.

“Dude, she’s like, my age! You guys give me shit all the time for being younger than you and now you’re trying to hook up with someone who’s barely older than me.”

“But (Y/N) doesn’t look like she’s twelve,” Anthony snapped back trying to encourage Sebastian.

“Looking a certain age doesn’t make you that age,” Tom muttered. “She said it herself that she’s not able to give more than forty percent in a relationship and you’re not getting any younger.”

“Thanks for that,” Sebastian grumbled.

“I’m saying if you’re looking for more than casual dating, finding it in a twenty-one year-old probably isn’t the best choice,” Tom explained. “Besides, she’s probably wanting to get another degree after this and focus on her career, and you’re not going to be around much because of yours. You’d really make her chose between you or her job?” Sebastian’s head fell lightly and Anthony glared at Tom as the girls returned.

Sebastian glanced up at the woman hurrying back to his side with a smile on her face. “Hi,” she called to him, a cheery smile pulled across her face. His hopeful eyes flashed up to her and the smile on his face faded as he chewed anxiously on the inside of his lip. He couldn’t get the thought out of his head that (Y/N) may be too young for him. 

Was putting work in front of (Y/N) fair to her? Was it fair to expect her to do the same? Was giving sixty percent in hopes to receive forty worth the risk of them being torn apart or thrust together? “Yes,” he stated to his own thoughts, quickly smiling across at the woman beside him.

bakery prompts
  • I’m sorry to do this at such short notice, but I’m a wedding planner and the cake just got destroyed. Is there any way you can make a wedding cake, in, like, three hours? Please? My job is kinda depending on this.
  • What do you need 300 cookies for?
  • You’ve been by here, like, six times today, and all you do is stare at the displays for five minutes and leave. Is there something you want, or…? 
  • No, we do not serve burgers. This is a bakery.
  • Listen, I know you were trying to make this cake a Valentine’s day surprise, but when you ask my bakery to make a cake for me that says “Love you, _______!” it becomes kind of obvious.
  • You just gathered up eight boxes of cupcakes in your arms, looked at me with bloodshot eyes, slammed money on the table, and said, “I’m going through a breakup.” You left immediately afterwards. I don’t know you, but I’m kind of worried about you.
  • You asked me to make six cakes that have no icing, no filling, no fondant, no frosting, and no decorations. Just six bare cakes. What do you need them for, anyways?
  • … What’s a “revenge cake?”
  • You asked me to make a cake that says, “Sorry I burnt down your house and destroyed your life!”
  • Sure, I can make you this pie, I guess. I just don’t know why you want it filled with that.
  • I know it’s my job, but I swear, if you ask me to make another dozen donuts, I will not hesitate to kill you.
  • The stomach virus that’s been going around has made me so short on staff that I’m the only one here, and now I have to make ten pans of brownies within the next couple of hours. I know you don’t work here, but can you please help me?
Lost and Found // j.j.

Hi :) I’d like to request a jughead x reader. But it’s a bit sad. Like he tells someone about the reader, that she was great and he loves her and stuff. And when the person he’s talking to asks where the reader is, he tells them, that she disappeared a few years ago, but no one really bothered looking for her( for some reason, idk😅) And maybe they could all start to search for her? Thanks already

So i kinda strayed from the prompt a bit but I think it still turned out pretty decent. tell me what you think :)

Jughead Jones considers himself a private person, and for a while that privacy was never intruded upon. That is, until Veronica Lodge dropped into town out of no where, apparently the concept of ‘personal space’ didn’t exist in New York City.

It starts one day when Veronica arrives at Pop’s earlier than usual, sliding into the booth beside Jughead before he’s able to get his tabs open on his computer.

“Ooh,” Veronica gasps, pulling the computer to her, “who is that?”

“No one,” Jughead says gruffly, pulling the lap top away from her, “no one.”

Veronica’s argument is cut off by Archie and Betty’s arrival, Veronica’s attention being pulled away from the mysterious background on Jughead’s computer.

No one notices Pop watching the interaction.

The next time they’re in the student lounge, Jughead rereading through old message threads, sighing at the amount of them that were unanswered from her.

“What’s got you so invested Jug?” Veronica asks, sipping her coffee casually.

“Huh?” Jughead looks up, locking his  phone quickly. “Nothing.”

“Is it that girl again?”

Archie perks up.

“Girl? What girl?” He asks.

“He’s got some girl as his background on his computer,” Veronica says, “I asked him who she was and he got all defensive.”

Betty’s eyes widen.

“Is she talking about Y-”

“She’s not talking about anyone,” Jughead cuts her off, eyes narrow, “okay? Just drop it.”

It happens in the span of three seconds, Kevin diving for the computer residing in Jughead’s backpack while Archie holds him back. Kevin hands the lap top to Betty, who opens in and turns it on meticulously.

“Good luck getting in,” Jughead says, “everything’s password protected these days.”

“If V is talking about who I think she’s talking about,” Betty mumbles, typing something into the computer, “I knew it.”

Jughead’s curses himself, his face pale as Kevin and Betty stare at the screen.

“I was right,” Betty says, turning the computer around to face Veronica and Archie.

“Oh my god,” Archie says, moving himself off of Jughead as he looks at the screen, “that’s Y/N.”

“Who’s Y/N?” Veronica asks, curious as to why the other four suddenly looked like they’d seen a ghost.

“She’s…well she-”

Jughead cuts Archie off by standing up, grabbing his lap top and shoving it in his bag as he heads for the door.

“Jug it’s o-”

“I can’t,” he cuts him off again, “not right now, not here.”

“Juggie,” Betty sighs.

“Meet me tonight at Pops, ten o'clock,” Jughead says, halfway turned from the group, “I’ll tell the story then.”

With those words he leaves, Veronica still stunned.

“What the hell just happened?” She asks.

“You opened Pandora’s box,” Kevin replies, “he just needs time to process it.”

Veronica arrives at Pops exactly five minutes after ten o'clock that night, not wanting to seem to eager. Archie sits next to Jughead as an offering of moral support in case the boy needs it, Betty and Kevin somehow making room for Veronica to fit in the opposite side of the booth.

“I don’t even know where to start,” Jughead sighs, shaking his head as he looks out of the window.

“Do you want me to?” Betty offers gently.

Jughead nods, tugging his beanie down nervously.

As Betty begins telling the story, Jughead fishes his phone out of his pocket, thumb scrolling through the message thread until his eyes land on the beginning of the end.

I just have to go, Jug. I can’t explain. I’m sorry.

At least tell me where you’re going, please.

I can’t. I’m sorry.

Y/N please, I can’t do this without you.

I’m sorry Juggie. I love you.

I love you too.

(two days later)

How are you doing? Are you okay?

Please just tell me if you’re okay.

(two weeks later)

I don’t know if you’re still getting these, but I love you and I just want to know if you’re okay.

(a month later)

I still love you.

(six months later)

Today would’ve been our anniversary. I hope you’re okay, I love you.

(present)

I’m okay.

Jughead stares at the message dated one day ago, his heart pounding in his chest.

After almost a year of silence, two words cause everything to come rushing back. All the feelings, the anger, the stress, the sadness, everything.

“They were in love,” Betty’s words bring Jughead back into the conversation, swallowing hard.

“I still love her,” he speaks, taking a deep breath, “I don’t think I’ll ever stop.”

“I knew you missed her, I mean, we all do,” Archie says, “but I didn’t know she was your background.”

“She wasn’t, for a while,” Jughead shrugs, “when she was here she was, and then after she left I changed it. It hurt too much. And then a few weeks ago I was going through some old pictures to try and delete some to clear out memory space and I found that one and I just…” Jughead shakes his head, running his thumb over his lip, “she was so happy, I mean, she was pissed when she found out I was taking pictures of her but she was so…breathtaking. And the next thing I knew it was suddenly my background, and I couldn’t bring myself to change it. Not again.”

“So she just…left?” Veronica asks, intrigued.

“She came to me and told me that she had to leave,” Jughead says, “personal reasons. I think it had something to do with her mom but honestly, I don’t know.”

“And that was it?” Veronica asks. “She never contacted you?”

“Not until yesterday,” Jughead says without thinking, causing all four heads to whip towards him.

“She called you?” Archie asks.

“Texted me,” Jughead sighs again.

“You kids sure are here later than usual,” Pop says, standing in front of the booth.

“You kicking us out Pop?” Archie asks with a smile.

“Nah, course not,” he smiles as well, “just got some night staff that aren’t accustomed to seeing five teenagers in here this late, no big deal.”

“We’ll be out soon,” Jughead responds, causing Pop to nod.

“What did she say?” Betty questions.

“I texted her a while ago, telling her that I hope she’s doing okay,” Jughead says, “and she texted me back yesterday and said that she was okay, that’s it.”

“Did you respond?” Kevin asks.

“No, course not,” Jughead shakes his head, “I’m not gonna blow up her phone with questions. All I really wanted to know is that she’s okay, and she is. That’s all that matters.”

“We should go look for her,” Veronica suggests, murmurs of agreement bubbling up from the other three teenagers.

“Are you crazy? Guys, no,” Jughead says, “if she wants to be found, if she wants us to know where she is, she’ll let one of us know. This isn’t an elaborate game of hide and seek this…this is her life. We’re not just gonna barge in and ruin it.”

“You’re still protecting her,” Archie says, “even after everything that’s happened?”

“Of course I am,” Jughead says, shrugging slightly, “I love her.”

“We should get going,” Betty says, looking down at her phone for the time, “it’s almost midnight, we have school tomorrow.”

The group make their way out of the booth, Jughead’s almost out of the door when the sound of his name coming from Pop’s mouth stops him.

“Go on,” he waves at Archie, “I’ll see you at home.”

Jughead takes a bar seat, resting his chin on his hands while he waits for Pop to finish up an order.

“What’s going on Pop?” He asks, eyebrows scrunched together.

“I heard you talking about Y/N,” he says, drying his hands on a towel and pushing a cup of coffee towards the boy, “she messaged you?”

“Yeah, just saying that she was okay,” Jughead nods, taking a sip of the drink, “I wish…I wish she was here though, I miss her.”

“You’re not mad at her?” Pop asks.

Jughead shakes his head, putting the cup back down on the counter.

“I’m not, strangely,” he replies, “I mean, I understand why she did what she did, she didn’t have a choice. And yeah I wish I could’ve done something to change it but I don’t blame her for what happened, all I want is for her to be okay and happy. If she’s happy then I’m happy, as cliché as that sounds.”

“You’re not mad at me?”

Jughead swears his eyes pop out of his head, his boy whipping around to see her standing by the entrance, dressed in a waitresses outfit with strands of her hair falling out of her bun. She looks just as beautiful as the day she left. He glad he put the coffee cup back onto the counter, because it would’ve been smashed to pieces on the floor had it been in his hand.

“Y-Y/N?” He stutters, his breathing heavy.

She half smiles at him and he almost falls off of the stool.

“I’m dreaming, this is a dream,” he mumbles, “what are you doing here?”

The words come out harsher than he meant, her gaze dimming slightly.

“No I meant,” he shakes his head, sucking in a deep breath, “what I meant was what are you doing back? I thought you left for like…good.”

“I guess I’ve got a lot of explaining to do,” she shifts her weight, “I can meet you after my shift gets over if you want, we can talk.”

Jughead’s reply is cut off by Pop.

“You will do no such thing,” the man says, “the two of you will sit in a booth and talk, I don’t care how long it takes.”

“Pop my shift starts in three minutes,” she says, glancing down at her watch.

“Don’t care,” he shakes his head, “this is way more important. Sit sit, Chris will cover if need be, it’s not like it’s busy here at midnight on a Thursday, sit.”

Knowing there was no use arguing with the man, the two teenagers sit across from each other, Jughead barely blinking, as if he was staring at a hallucination he thought would leave if he looked away for too long.

“It’s okay, Juggie,” she says, reaching her hand out to touch his, “I’m here.”

“Oh my god you’re here,” he rushes out, intertwining their fingers together as he stares at her, “you’re really here.”

“Don’t hate me,” she whispers, looking down at the booth, “I’m so sorry Juggie.”

“Hate you?” He asks, shaking his head. “Y/N I could never hate you. Believe me, I’m sad that you left but I don’t hate you.”

“I should’ve told you I was here,” she says, “I should’ve done a lot of things differently, I’m sorry.”

“Hey,” he catches her gaze, shaking his head, “stop apologizing, seriously.”

“I missed you Jug,” she sighs, “so much.”

“I missed you too, more than you know,” he replies, pressing a kiss to her knuckles.

“I got all of your messages,” she swallows, “I just…couldn’t bring myself to answer, not after knowing what I did. And then I got back here and I was looking through them and I…I guess subconsciously I wanted to talk to you. I hit send before I really even knew what I was doing.”

“How long have you been back?” He questions.

“About two weeks,” she says, “doing online classes and a couple shifts a week here for some extra cash.”

“Who are you staying with?”

“No one,” she replies, “my mom gave me enough cash for an apartment downtown, she pays the rent monthly, everything else is up to me.”

“You’re living by yourself?” He asks with wide eyes.

“Don’t give me that look, I’m fine,” she rolls her eyes, “I’m seventeen Jug, I can take care of myself.”

“Of course you can, it’s not that I don’t think you can’t it’s just,” he shrugs, “seventeen’s kinda young to be on your own, regardless of whether or not you can handle it.”

She shrugs as well, nodding a bit.

“I suppose, but I’d rather be here. She gave me the choice, I took this option,” she explains.

“This is insane,” he shakes his head, “I can’t believe you’re actually here.”

“So you keep saying,” she smiles, “get over here and hug me.”

He does as she asks, wrapping his arms around her torso as they stand in front of the booth, Y/N burying her face in his neck.

He still smells the same, she thinks, smiling into the hug.

“I missed you Y/N,” he whispers.

“I missed you too Juggie,” she replies, pulling back and looking up at him, placing a hand on his cheek, “is it too much to say I love you?”

Jughead breaks into a smile, shaking his head.

“No, not at all,” he says, “I love you, so much.”

Y/N smiles again, finally pressing her lips to his. Jughead kisses her back, cupping her face in his hands. Her hands rest on his chest, eyes fluttering closed. It was as if somebody flicked a switch and happiness came rushing back into her life when he touched her.

“God I missed that,” he says breathlessly, “I missed you.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” she replies, a soft smile on her face, “well, except to start my shift.”

“I’ll stay with you,” he says, “keep you company.”

“Don’t you have school tomorrow?” She asks, placing a hand on her hip.

Jughead rolls his eyes.

“I’m already way ahead in all my classes, I can afford to miss a day,” he says, smiling.

Y/N rolls her eyes as she grabs an apron from under the counter, tying it around her waist as he talks.

“I should probably call Archie,” Jughead mumbles, pulling his phone out of his pocket, “tell him I’m not coming home.”

“You’re living with Archie?” Y/N asks, topping off his coffee.

“I have so much to catch you up on.”

“I’ve got all night,” she smiles again, Jughead’s heart lifting at the sight, “I’m not going anywhere.”

Close As Strangers l Shawn Mendes Imagine.

(a/n): thanks to the anon who requested this, though I apologize because it’s not very good but I really wanted to post something. anyway, I hope you enjoy it!

prompt: so tell me are we wasting time, talking on a broken line? (based on the song “Close As Strangers” by 5 Seconds of Summer.)

Originally posted by pickeringgod

Touring was hard.

It was hard because after some time, everything became so repetitive; the same songs, same stage, same routine.

There were days Shawn didn’t even know in which city he was in, he had to be remembered minutes before heading to the stage so he wouldn’t screw up and say the name of a different city.

it was hard but he knew he wouldn’t have it any other way.

On the other hand, touring was hard for you, his girlfriend, who struggled every day with compensating your daily life with your boyfriend gone.

The first days he was on tour were hard, yet not the hardest. You could still smell his perfume on your sheets, he could still feel your velvet skin against his hand. The phone calls didn’t sound forced, it was quite the opposite, actually, and you laughed at silly things that didn’t carry much importance.

But now it was six weeks since he’d been away, and the both of you could tell everything had changed.

You didn’t notice when his smell didn’t linger on your sheets anymore until it just wasn’t there.

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Relentless | Calum Hood Series Pt.9

Originally posted by ifyou-takemyhand

                                                 Part N I N E 

Request: Being the cousin of Ashton Irwin was exciting, especially when invited to their tour to hang out with his best friends. You found yourself becoming fond of Calum Hood, who finds you annoying from your constant appearance. But what would happen if you stopped giving him that attention?

Word Count: 3k+

A/N: hi hi!!! gabs is back with another part. im so, so happy that everybody is enjoying this series. i made this part a bit more intimate, so i hope that makes everybody’s day (lol). tysm for all the support n love. 100 notes is the goal, but ik yall know this ! x

Parts: one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen, sixteen, seventeen, eighteen, nineteen, twenty. [DONE]

                                                      I M A G I N E 

Arrival to Ireland, 13:02 P.M.

“We’re actually going to a party today,” Calum told you as the two of you started unbuckling your belts. People were already rising from their seats to scoop up their carry-ons and exit the plane. “We’re to head out in a few hours, but we’re leaving from the hotel.”

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I'm actually terrified of what's to come...

Like really. I’m afraid, worried and terrified of what’s to come for Jin. Why is it that the “mistreatment” of Jin has happened two days straight? Yesterday and today. Yesterday’s one was not as bad…But today’s incident? That was just f*cked up man. BigHit doesn’t give Jin the credit and treatment he deserves, and now CJ E &M? I mean, how can you not remember that there are SEVEN members? Since when did BTS have only SIX members?

What’s next? He leaves? He’s not going to be given the treatment he deserves in the next comeback? I don’t know anymore. As a Jin stan, I’m tired. It’s emotionally exhausting you know? I love them all but yo. This is f*cking bullshit.

Call the Jin stans dramatic, but open your eyes. I’m sure you can see how far this has gone.

“Many More Birthdays”

request: Can you do Sebastian stan x reader where its the readers birthday and she spends it alone at a bookstore, then they ran into each other and he finds out it’s her birthday so they have an adventure. Please and thank you!!! Love your writing 

word count: 1331

warnings: fluff, reader grew up in the foster care system 

A/N: thank you for the request! let me know if you want to be on my taglist! leave me some requests in my ask box or just drop by to say hi! i will try to get back to posting again. I’ve never been the NYC so the adventure part is made up from movies and my imagination. I really want to go someday.


Originally posted by sebastianobrien

Alone, like every other birthday. Here you were on your twenty first birthday with nothing to do.

Today started out like every other day. You got up, went for a run around Central Park, and got ready to go do errands. Except, you were one year older; one more year alone. That’s why you hated your birthday. You never had anyone to spend it with.

Your parents gave you up for adoption when you were born. You had no idea why, but they did. Every birthday you had was ignored and you eventually started ignoring them too. There was nothing happy to go along with your birthday. No presents, no cake, no family.

When you turned eighteen you were sent off on your own and you were glad for it. You didn’t have to deal with anymore shitty foster homes and shitty parents. You could finally be on your own. You could go to college and finally enjoy life, and you did, but birthdays were still hard.

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If I am honest with you, I am scared of what I am.

Tell me..

Is it wrong that I fear what I create in my head?

Love, I’m terrified that all that is inside of me will rip me apart as I write it down on paper, I am a ticking time bomb, my fuse is my words leading down to my soul as it burns stronger and stronger inside of me.

You have to understand that, I..

I love you. I really do, but please. I beg of you, please forgive me If I’m afraid to touch you, if I’m afraid to hold you. For my touch has never been delicate enough for a flower. Forgive me if sometimes I am afraid to speak to you, because some days all that I can muster out of my lungs are the curses that others once handed to me.

Understand, that It’s not that I don’t want you..

I just don’t want to dirty your delicate soul with the ashes of my pain, I don’t want to suffocate your hope with the dust that’s left of my sorrows.

There are far too many ways to say the wrong thing when I try to outline your hand against the gaze that taught me how to silently rupture, how to tab the corners of my heart until the emptiest space it has left is my hands. I learned to love with your lips pressed against the wall, with your shadow reassuring the proclamations of towers we highlighted in bolded emotions.

Hold my quiet, hold my silence.

Hold the words I shouldn’t have said with my eyes pressed into the wind, the months spent garden a plethora of thorns to be proud of, a signature of toil lamented privately. If rain is just the ocean looking for a home, then summer is the prelude to heartbreak. You run from darkness and I let it consume me, inhaling in flames too shallow to carve against. You can grow flowers in where dirt used to be, you can stand on fingers that weren’t once your own.

I’ll apologize for falling into a wish you never heard, but I’ll still meet you in my coffee. I’ll still pull you out of the sun to try on another smile. I’ll still follow the sunset to the edge of tomorrow just to feel my soul drop to the bottom of my soles again. I understand if we ended on an anchor that never found its lover in the rocks, a timely catastrophe derived from two sixes refilling a prescription for more air. Yes, today there may be a hole in my heart, but I know one day it will be filled.

- Collaboration between myself (normal font) and @teacup13 (italics)

A Father-Daughter Dance // A Phan One-Shot

Genre: family fluff, parent!phan

Words: 3.8k

Relationship status: married

Warnings: implied homophobia 

Summary: Izzy’s class is holding a Father-Daughter Dance. However, there’s a bit of an issue – Izzy has two dads.

A/N: Yes, I know it’s Mother’s Day here in America, but I really wanted to post a story today, so…yeah lol it’s what I had next to be posted, so…we’re just going to roll with it. 

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Sweethearts

hi guys!!! sorry it’s been awhile since u heard from me - i have been busy and stressed and just wrote this lil belated valentine’s themed daydream because ???????? 
anyways i am garbage for young lin so here i love you all lets hope this isn’t as trashy as i think it is i definitely didn’t write this procrastinating writing muse definitely not i am a better person than that

summary: isn’t valentine’s day SO lame? very lame. especially without a tall, dark & dorky teenage boy to cheer u up.
word count: 2100+
warnings: belated holiday spirit?????? unapologetic cheesiness??????

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The Countdown

Taehyung googles his symptoms and convinces himself he’s got a week to live, Yoongi’s coerced into helping write his will, and you’re just trying not to go insane.

a belated birthday present for the wonderful amazingly perfect @taesthetes !!! it’s three days late, unfortunately. See end for full list of disclaimers and notes.

6.7k words, fluff + comedy, taehyung/reader, normalverse


It begins with a cough.

A singular cough, insubstantial to the larger picture. Taehyung ignores it. That is, until suddenly his chest and throat seize and he feels this strange pressure and irresistible scratchy feeling that results in a whole slew of coughing and hacking.

With a grunt he slumps into his chair and immediately fumbles for his phone. The coughing’s stopped now, but the feeling of impending doom has yet to go away. As do the slightly woozy, borderline-feverish feeling and the sniffling of his nose.

Quickly, before he can possibly drop dead, he dials the number of the one person he can trust in times like these:

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In the dark

Silly semi casefile fic written for several reasons. For @leiascully’s XFWritingChallenge: Exercise and also for the anon on @lyndsaybones  blog who asked for a story about Scully being given an undercover assignment as another agent’s wife. 
I’m looking forward to the other stories that might spring from that particular anon!


The phone skittered across the desk, mocking him with its caller ID and perkiness. He’d fallen asleep in the office and his neck was gristled, his mouth filled with dry Bureau air.

           “Mulder, it’s me.”

           Well, yeah. That’s what the phone said.

           “Mulder, are you there?”

           “I’m here, Scully. Or should I say Mrs Sparks?”

           “That’s Ms Sparks. And you sound like you still haven’t gotten over this assignment, Mulder. It’s been two days and you’re a grown man. You need to get over it.”

           It’s been more than six years and he wasn’t over it, grown man or not.

           “What’s the plan today, Scully?” He forced a little grace into his voice.

           “You know I can’t tell you that, Mulder. I’m undercover,” her voice was buried in a rush of static and muffled voices. “I’ve got to go. I’ll call later.”

           And I’ll still be here. I’ll still be thinking about the smug look Skinner had in his eye when he informed them that Scully had been assigned to this case, going undercover as Danny fucking Conway’s wife, to lure out a serial killer who was ramping up in the DC area. And so close to the Arcadia case. What the hell was that man on? And why the hell did Scully agree to this bullshit? Hadn’t she had enough of being targeted by freaks?  She’d given him the usual line about being independent and doing her job blah blah. Their job was the X-Files, but the last time he’d tried to deliver a message along those lines, she’d gone and fucked that psycho in Philly and blamed the lack of a desk.

Soft, green light billowed out of his fish tank. It was supposed to be calming. That’s why he’d chosen tropicals. Their colour, their shapes, their fluid movements, the warmth of their lives…yet, all he wanted to do was rip the fucking thing off the shelf and stab the little beasts with a pencil. The phone had remained unreasonably quiet. It wasn’t even arguing back when he slammed it down on his coffee table. He stretched his arms up and relished the clunk of his joints. Pain. Fatigue. Being in the fucking dark. Yes. Welcome to the life of Fox Mulder.

           The buzzing of his cell woke him. Where had he thrown it? He scrambled around the couch, sticking his fingers between the cushions and down the back. He found nothing but crumbs and a tack that stuck behind his thumbnail. He cursed and sucked at the blood. Metal and dust. And the phone stopped ringing.

He was outside the house now, hunkered down in the driver’s seat, watching how the climbing rose curled and bowed around the door, mocking him with its elegance. He did not belong here. Not just because Scully would kill him, but because people like Mulder didn’t belong in this suburb.

Danny fucking Conway with his blond hair and frat boy good looks belonged here. Dana Scully with her contained beauty and ferocious intelligence belonged here. She really should live somewhere like this. All the things she personified were displayed in this building – success, style, class, refinement. She should never leave. She should be Ms Sparks, co-creator of GymProMatch, a site for high-end professionals wanting to find an exercise partner. However you span it, Mulder believed it was really a dating site for those who got off on watching women in exercise gear with sweaty cleavage and enough money to opt for surgical intervention should the running machine or the date become surplus to requirements.

GymProMatch also offered tailored personal training programs, online functionality so even less desirables, like Mulder, could get fit in the comfort of their glowing-green living room and be linked with other sad cases, diet plans, seminars and conferences with training professionals. The real people behind it had flown to their Caribbean chalet while Scully and Fucking Conway moved in.

           He shifted in the seat, his knees groaned at the confined space. He picked at the skin on the side of his thumb. He let his head fall against the seat rest and tried to keep his eyes open. The door opened. Scully stepped out, her hair caught in a high ponytail and white headphone wires forming a necklace around her bright pink fitted vest. She wore black yoga pants with a pink swirl around the calves, and bright white runners. She limbered up, stretching her quads and dipping her head side to side. She looked fucking gorgeous, backlit by the light above the door. She jogged up the paved path, edged by topiary bushes, and out on to the sidewalk. Mulder watched the back of her disappear into the murky evening before he opened his door to track her.

           He didn’t even get to the end of the car before she’d doubled back and was running at a pace towards him. She looked fucking angry.

He slunk into the car and she slipped in next to him, huffing out more than just energized breaths. There was fire in those exhalations.

           “I’m sorry, Scully. I needed to know you were okay.”

           “You’ve just jeopardized this whole operation, Mulder. And all because you don’t trust me to do my job.”

           “I do trust you, Scully. It’s Conway I don’t trust. He’s an asshole.”

           “That may be true, Mulder, but he’s a professional asshole. Unlike you, who at this moment, just look like a pathetic, jealous, ridiculous asshole.”

           Now they were getting somewhere. He deserved that. It made him feel better. He always appreciated the truth. Scully always told him the truth.

           “You can finish your run, Scully. I don’t mind waiting.”

           “Waiting for what?” Her voice thinned as her anger level rose. She was flushed anyway, but her chest heaved and her arms were tense and those veins near her wrists were pulsing and she kept licking her lips in that way that both irritated him and turned him on. He could practically smell the smoke coming off her, she was red-hot furious.

           It was now or never. He leant forward and captured her face in his hands, pulling her mouth to his. She was spitting out some curse or another but he swallowed it whole and savoured the taste of her. Her arms were trapped between them but he could feel her shifting against him, her fists bunching, ready to pummel him. He groaned into her mouth, pushed his tongue into the velvet of her, rubbed it against her teeth, let his hands move from under her ears, down her neck and to gently massage her shoulders. She was still fighting but she had opened her mouth wider and if he wasn’t mistaken, she was whimpering. He pulled back.

           She ran her tongue over the lower lip, looked down at her lap, then up at him. He steadied himself for the slap or the punch, but she just turned to open the door.

           “Wait, Scully. Please.”

           “I have to go, Mulder.” There was no intonation, no anger, no life in her words.

He reached out to shut the door. His arm brushed her breasts and she sucked in a breath, pushing herself back into the chair.

“Sorry. But I’m not generally in the habit of kissing you, Scully. There is a reason. And right now, that reason is approaching from the end of the street. Our suspect has been prowling around in the yard of the empty property at 190 for about an hour. Conway has called in back up. I’m wired up. You just need to keep kissing me. Come here.”

He snaked his arm around her and kissed her again. She softened into his arms and he reluctantly released her mouth to whisper into her ear.

“Skinner didn’t want you to know about my part in the assignment. He knew you would back out if I was any part of this job. This psycho loves himself a cheating red-head but he really gets off on torturing the boyfriend. Meet the boyfriend, Scully.” He nibbled her neck and she shuddered. She definitely shuddered.

“This is so fucked-up, Mulder,” her voice had dropped a notch and she was breathing heavily. Mulder let his fingers wander up and down her back as he listened for instructions from the team.

“Suspect is nearly at target point. Keep doing that, Scully.”

“Doing what?”

“That thing you’re doing with your…”

“Mulder!”

She pulled back and all hell broke loose. The passenger door pulled open, a hand reached around her and covered her mouth with duct tape. At the same time, the suspect lashed out at Mulder with a baseball bat but he managed to avoid most of the swing, so that it hit the steering wheel and let the horn sound. A dozen agents swamped the car, heaving Scully from the suspect’s grasp and pulling Mulder out. The suspect was grappled to the ground and Conway snapped on the handcuffs.

“Darling. I’m so glad you’re okay,” he smirked up at Scully.

Mulder rushed to her side. “Are you sure you want me to pull the tape off, Conway? I’m not sure you’re ready to hear what Scully has to say to you.”

She huffed out something unintelligible and he gently prised the tape off. Her mouth was red and puffy. He liked to think it wasn’t all because of the tape. She pressed the back of her hand to her mouth and turned away.

“You were good today, Scully.”

“At what? At being kept in the dark? At being manhandled by you and the suspect?”

Skinner swept forward, his hands buried in his overcoat. “Agents. This was a fine result. Good work.” Scully glared at him and then back at Mulder. “I understand you might have some further questions about this case, Agent Scully. Report to me in the morning. I’ll debrief you both.”

The phone skittered across his couch, mocking him with its caller ID and perkiness. The green glow seemed brighter somehow.

           “Mulder, it’s me.”

           Well, yeah. That’s what the phone said.

           “Mulder, are you there?”

           “I’m here, Scully. You sound out of breath. Are you all right?”

           “I’ve been running.”

“I hear exercise is a good for reducing stress and tension.”

“Will your next undercover assignment be as a medical doctor, Mulder? Or perhaps I won’t know until after you’ve performed an emergency tracheotomy or diagnosed someone with diabetes.”

“Touche, Scully. And again, I am sorry. But it wasn’t my decision.”

“Mulder, open your door.”

“You’re outside?”

“Yes, I ran from my car because it’s raining. I’m wet and grumpy so please, open the door.”

She was dripping, red with cold and looked fucking gorgeous. He pulled her in, pushed her to the bathroom and told her to take a shower. When she emerged, she was red less dripping, pink with heat and still looked fucking gorgeous. She took the cup of tea he’d made and sat on his couch.

           “Would it be inappropriate to say that I really enjoyed kissing you, Scully. Even if you were technically married to someone else. And you weren’t technically aware that I was going to do it?”

“Do you always make a habit of kissing married women, Mulder?”

“Only the red-haired, doctor ones.” He tried for a cute smile.

She blushed and sipped her tea.

“That thing you did with your…”

 “Mulder!”