she began to relax

Red Jamie and the White Lady - Part 4

Well since @tammywt was so kind as to ask nicely and @shamelessmiraclemaker also asked nicely, I’ll post this chapter. Monday and Tuesday I have finals I have to write, so I won’t be online at all. Don’t worry, the new Vegas chapter will still post on Tuesday no matter what.

MASSIVE thank you to @diversemediums for her AMAZEBALLS brain. Seriously. She’s pretty incredible. And also to one of my favorite nurses (I don’t care what you say, you’re a nurse to me) @outlandishchridhe for making sure my writing about injury and medical practices was accurate. Catch up on previous installments below:

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3

Claire sat curled up on the couch, blanket tucked in around her, as she nursed her glass of wine. Geillis would be home soon more than likely and Claire could only hope she’d return alone. Picking up the TV remote, Claire flipped through the channels aimlessly, wanting to settle on something that didn’t require her to think or follow a complex plot. She finally settled on some reality program and let her mind rest.

But she felt restless, like there was something important that she’d forgotten. An urge to get up and move about the apartment came over her like an ocean wave, as strong as it was sudden. It had been a long day at the hospital, checking on her patients after their operations. All she really wanted was a quiet night at home where she could turn her mind off and not be anything, yet here she was, mind racing and thoughts bouncing to and fro like an internal tennis match.

She shook herself back to reality when a key in the door unlocked the deadbolt. Claire set down her empty glass and pulled herself out of the slouch she’d fallen into. Geillis waltzed in, face a little flushed and hair slightly out of sorts.

“Good night, then?”

“Oh, quite,” she said with a predatory smile.

“I take it he was a quick one, or you’d have brought him home.”

“Weel, I kent you’d be here. So I shagged him at the bar.”

Claire snorted.

“Not on it, I hope.”

“Of course not. Now… What have yoooouuuu been doing all evening?”

Geillis plopped herself down on the couch, dropping her heels on the floor beside her.

“Just watching some reality program. Nothing exciting. It was a long day.”

“You didn’t go and see that psychic lad again?”

“Again? Geillis, how many times must I tell you. I saw him the day you dragged me there and never again.”

Emerald green eyes narrowed at her, disbelieving. Frank had told her once never to play poker because she was a rubbish liar. She’d never seen the point in lying to begin with, so it hadn’t really mattered. But something about Jamie, about the time they’d spent together, made her hide the information from Geillis.

“But why!? Claire! He asked you back! You took my appointment with him and then he asked you back for another personal reading!”

“As I’ve said at least a dozen times since then, Geillis Duncan, I don’t believe in psychics or spirits or true love. It’s all fairy tales given to children.”

Geillis waved her hand in a dismissive manner and headed off to her bedroom. Judging by the strength of the whiskey on her breath, she’d be passed out within a quarter hour. So, Claire turned the reality program back on and watched it for a while. Still… This nagging sensation in the back of her mind…

With a huff, she got to her feet and dug around the flat for a scrap piece of paper. After scribbling a note, Claire grabbed her keys and went out.

Geillis - Went out for a walk. Be back soon. Don’t worry.

The cool night air bit at her cheeks as she walked, but it soothed her. There was no destination to her walking, she only wanted the movement and fresh air. As she gradually began to relax, her thoughts wandered back to Jamie. True, he’d asked that she not tell anyone he was a Scot. But he hadn’t asked her to conceal her entire visit altogether. That had been… Instinct?

Flashes of that strange, shared dream had come back to her nearly every night. The feel of his lips on her neck, his teeth moving down her chest, the way his fingers moved so deftly in her-

Shaking her head again, she reminded herself it had been his vision, not hers. That thought, however, reminded her of his sudden migraine. The unknown cause was bad enough, but even he’d said it was unusual. Before she could think about it, her feet turned and started taking her down to his shop. They’d never exchanged personal numbers, so she had no other way to contact him.

“Besides,” she muttered to herself. “He claims to be an all powerful psychic. He’ll see me coming. Probably knew I was coming before I did.”

When she arrived at the shop, she noticed the lights were all on. Blinking up at the door, she tried to remember all the turns she’d taken to get there, but couldn’t. She felt as if she’d been entranced and had come to this place completely without thought.

If the lights were on, someone should be home. Stepping up to the door, she knocked on it gently. It swung open on silent hinges as if it had been expecting her.

“Odd,” she said quietly. “He’s not usually one for being creepy.”

Right, she thought. Because you know him so well? You’ve spent maybe two hours with him in the last two weeks and you ‘know’ he’s not one for being creepy? Get a hold of yourself, Beauchamp.

Walking slowly, she moved down the same hall he’d taken her twice. Something about the place felt… off.

“Hello? Is anyone home?”

A deep grunt was her only greeting and she went in search of it.

“Hello?” she called again. “I’m not sure where you are. I’ve only come to help.”

“Here,” answered a voice she didn’t recognize.

What she did recognize, however, was the thread of pain in it. Moving faster, she turned a corner into a kitchen and found him sitting on the floor. He leaned against the wall, one arm clutched protectively over his ribs. One eye was swollen shut, his bottom lip was split, and Claire suspected he had a decent head wound somewhere, judging from the blood coating one side of his face.

“Who the devil are ye?!” he demanded, free hand groping for something to defend himself with.

“Claire!” she said, holding up her hands. “Claire Beauchamp!”

“What do ye want?”

“I only came to see if Jamie was alright. He got a nasty migraine a while back when I was here and I wanted to check if it had come back or gotten worse! I only came to help!”

She knelt down beside him and began prodding his head gently. He yelped and jerked his head away when she found the gash in his scalp, right near a decently sized lump.

“Aye, I ken I’ll need stitches. And I’ve broken my ribs again. I’ll do.”

“Wait,” she blinked down at him, tearing her eyes from the lump on his head. “You’re Scottish too?”

The one eye that wasn’t swollen shut darted up and met hers, wariness and rage warring in it.

“What do ye ken about the lad?”

“That he believes he’s a powerful psychic and he’s got to hide from someone or something. I know we had the same dream about two weeks ago.”

“Who do ye work for?! How did ye find us!”

Claire lurched back when a knife came suddenly to her throat.

“I don’t work for anyone! You mustn’t move like that! You’re only going to cause yourself more pain. And who the bloody hell are you?”

“Jamie’s guardian.”

Getting up, she went to the sink and wet a rag to clean him off with.

“Your name?”

His good eye narrowed in a glare and Claire returned the look, with interest.

“Look, I don’t work for anyone. I sort of had a feeling I needed to come here, so I did. All I wanted to do was make sure he was alright.”

With the blood cleaned off his face, he didn’t look too bad. A little dour maybe, but not as angry as he’d first seemed.

“The lad needs ye.”

“Where is he?”

“Tell me… Are ye true to him? Ye really willna betray him to… them.”

Heaving a sigh, she got to her feet, anxious to find Jamie and find out what the bloody hell was going on.

“Given that I don’t have any bloody clue who they are, no. I won’t betray him. I already promised I’d keep his secret. He knows mine.”

After what felt an eternity he nodded once.

“I’m Murtagh. Jamie made it upstairs to the panic room. We converted the attic. Go upstairs to the library, second door on the left. Pull the book wi’ the red spine that says The Truth About the ‘45. That’ll open the door. Jamie will be inside. I canna get up the stairs wi’ these ribs.”

Taking the stairs two at a time, she paused on the landing and counted the doors on the left hand side. The library wasn’t quite what she’d expected. She’d thought it would be like any old library, filled with old books that were rarely touched. What she found was the oddest assortment of books she’d ever seen, all with creased spines and well-worn pages.

How much time does Jamie spend in here, she wondered.

Peering carefully at the unfamiliar collection, she found the bright red spine that read The Truth About the ‘45 and pulled it. A quiet click sounded before the entire case began swinging away from the wall. Claire leapt back and looked down, seeing a small trail of blood droplets.

“Jesus H…”




She rushed into the brightly lit room and turned in a slow circle. Jamie was propped against a wall, much like Murtagh had been, but was in much worse condition.

“Jesus H. Bloody Christ!”

Both of his eyes were nearly swollen shut, blood trickled from his nose in an alarmingly steady stream, his face was a webwork of bruises and scrapes, the knuckles on both hands were raw and bloody. His left hand was pressed against his side and she could see the drying blood staining his skin. Puncture? How deep? How long had he been bleeding?

Not long, by the looks of the small puddle on the floor. The tiny slits of ever-changing blue met her eyes and widened a little.

“Ssncchh,” he mumbled.

“Hush,” she said, dropping to her knees. “You don’t need to speak. Let me take care of you, alright?”

Her hand brushed his shoulder and he winced, causing her to look at it more carefully. She realized his shoulder was completely out of joint, which must be agonizing.

“I need to put your shoulder right. But it’s not in the right position. It’ll hurt like hell, but I promise it’ll feel better when it goes back. Are you ready?”

Eyes locked on hers, he nodded once and she began rolling his arm around, feeling for the right alignment.

“One… Two…” before she got to three, she snapped the shoulder back in place.

Jamie’s whole body went rigid and he muffled a cry. Before a sound could come out, he slumped back and relaxed.

“Th… Thank ye,” he mumbled, voice rasping.

“Oh you won’t be thanking me in a minute. What the hell have you and Murtagh done? Gotten into a fight with an elephant?”

He shrugged and winced at the movement.

“Do you have any sort of medkit around? There’s only so much I can do with my bare hands.”

“In… The cupboard. Red bag.”

Claire got to her feet and rummaged around until she found the medkit. It wasn’t as small as she’d been expecting, almost the size of a duffle. Bringing it with her, she set it down and began looking through it. She needed to listen to his breathing, make sure that stab wound wasn’t too deep. Pulling out the stethoscope, she pressed it to his chest and closed her eyes. Heartbeat. Breathing. Clear lung sounds, which was excellent. No punctured lung then. That meant she could stitch up the wound and finish examining the rest of him. But she needed a clear, clean area, so she cut away his shirt, laying the bloody fabric aside.

It was only oozing a little, but the area around it was smudged with blood. Looking around the room quickly, she spotted a small sink. She waited until the water warmed a little before putting the stopper in. Lathering a fresh bar of soap, she soaked a clean cloth in it before returning to him. Careful not to let the soapy water into the wound, she cleaned around it as best she could. By some miracle, this medkit had anesthetic in it.

“This will help numb you a bit so I can check for debris before I close it up, alright?”

He nodded.

She filled a syringe with the anesthetic before injecting all around the wound and waited a few minutes before gently poking near the wound. When he didn’t flinch away or yelp, she took it as her cue. Another syringe, without a needle, sat filled with sterile saline. With it, she irrigated the wound to clear it of any debris that might have found a way in. As carefully as she could, she peeled apart the edges of the wound to take one last look.

“Alright soldier, looks like it’s clean. Time to close you up.”

Claire took a deep, steadying breath, and began closing up the stab wound. It went faster than she’d expected and she was quite pleased with her work when she looked down at it.

“Now,” she said, stretching her back a little. “Let’s have a look at the rest of you.”

“Is… Is Murtagh…”

“He’s alive, but with bruised or broken ribs. I’m not sure. He wouldn’t let me look at him until after I’d tended you. Did they stab you anywhere else?”

“No, they didna.”

Nodding to herself, she cut away the rest of his shirt and hissed at the dark bruises already forming. She cleaned the blood off his skin to check for any lacerations. Most of the bleeding on his face had come from his nose. Thankfully, that flood had ceased. She wiped gingerly around his face, but only found more bruising. A few places where the skin had broken open, likely due to someone’s fist, were already clotting. There wasn’t much she could do for the split lip at this point, but it too had stopped oozing.

“Well, you don’t have anything more serious going on. How’s your head?”

“Throbbin’ a bit.”

“Like the migraine you had last time I was here?”

He nodded shortly.

“A bit. No’ quite so bad. Weel, it was earlier, but no’ as much now.”

Claire exhaled, wiping her brow with the back of her hand as she sat back on her heels and met his eyes squarely.

“Now, would you care to tell me just what the hell happened here?”

Jamie took as deep a breath he could with his new stitches and nodded again.

“Aye, ye deserve the truth. Ye ken I’m no’ English. I’m hiding out, trying to stay clear of a group that kens how powerful I could be. They want to unleash my power and use it for their own gains. All I want is to have a quiet life, help people when I can. I dinna want to ken the fate of a city or country or entire people.”

“And they want to use you?”

“Aye, they do. Been hunting me for years, ever since…”

The blue of his eyes suddenly shifted into a deep, dark tone.

“Ach, weel. I thought you’d come back, ye ken. I’d seen ye in the hallway, in a different vision, so I thought the knock was you. I see now that the vision I had was you coming in alone, concerned, no’ as I’d thought before.”

“They blitzed you?”

“Something like that, aye. As soon as I kent it wasna you, I called for Murtagh. He’s my godfather, ken? Swore to my mother on her deathbed that he’d keep me safe as if I was his own child. He’s good in a fight, especially an unexpected one like this. I dinna think they meant to stab me, I think they were aimin’ at Murtagh. I just got in the way. But he kept them busy until I could get up here and safe.”

Claire nodded slowly. Jamie visibly relaxed at that, then let out a stifled groan with the movement.

“We really should get you to a hospital.”

“No!” he said, wincing and clutching at his side. “No. That’s the first place they’ll look for me.”


“Please,” he said, “please, Claire. Ye canna take me there.”

The look of absolute terror in his eyes swayed her, against her better judgement.

“Fine. But I need to get downstairs and examine Murtagh. He took a nasty blow to the head and I’m afraid he’ll need stitches too. And I’m not leaving you alone up here. Come on, I’ll help you up.”

Taking hold of his left hand, she braced herself and helped him to his feet. He wobbled a little, but a hand on her shoulder helped him steady himself.

“How’s the head.”

“It’s… Starting to hurt a bit.”

His eyes were glazing over as he swayed on his feet.



“No, mo ghraidh… dinna go just yet.”

She giggled contentedly and nuzzled against him.

“I have to, I’m sorry. If I’m not in the surgery soon, they’ll come looking.”

“I’m no’ ready to let ye go yet…”

With a growl, he rolled above her, pinning her down.

“You brute!”

“Aye! I’m a brute! And I have ye at my mercy!”

Peals of laughter echoed in the small room, filling him with indescribable joy.


He swayed again, reaching for the wall to keep from toppling over all together. Everything hurt. Then, it was as if every ounce of pain in his body had moved behind it eyes..

“Christ my head…”

His vision began to blur, though not from visions.

“Damn it, your nose is bleeding again.”

She vanished from his sight for a moment before she returned, gently pushing something into his nose. He resisted the urge to sneeze, but was happy to realize blood was no longer running down his face.

“How bad is the pain? Scale of one to ten, ten being unbearable, excruciating pain?”

“Six and a half.”



Her cool, soft hands held his face between them, keeping his head from wobbling.

“Do you mind if I try something?”

“I dinna mind.”

“Is the pain in your temples?”


Then her long, elegant fingers pressed against his head. Without meaning to, he leaned into the pressure, eyes drawing closed. A lifetime might have passed right by him in those moments and he never would have noticed. All he knew was the connection they had, the way she drew the pain out of his head.

When she pulled her hands back, he nearly fell over. She smiled up at him, golden eyes glittering.


“Aye, much better. Thank ye.”

“Can you walk now, you think?”

“Verra slowly, but aye. I can walk.”

It took some time, but they got down the stairs and back to the kitchen. Murtagh wasn’t on the floor, at least, but he looked half dead. Half his face was caked with dried blood, his hair matted with it as well.

“Alright soldier, your turn.”

Jamie eased into a chair and took some amount of pleasure in watching Murtagh go through the same examination he’d just finished. She stitched up his scalp and cleaned the blood from his face and beard.

When she was satisfied they were both as cleaned up as she could make them, she sat down with a huff.

“Will they come back?”

“No’ tonight. Stabbing Jamie will likely get them in trouble. It was meant for me.”

“So why not kill you and wait for Jamie to emerge?”

Murtagh shrugged and Jamie envied the ease of his movement.

“Dinna ken. But they’ll no’ be back tonight. Ye can head home, lass. I’ve got Jamie.”

“Not with that head wound. I’m not going anywhere until I’m sure the both of you are,” she interrupted herself with a yawn. “Until you’re stable.”

Jamie glanced up at Murtagh, who’s good eye was locked on Claire. He had the most curious expression on his face, one Jamie couldn’t figure out.

“Get some rest, lass. I’m no’ falling asleep for a good while yet.”

“I couldn’t possibly,” she said, yawning again.

Claire leaned forward and folded her arms on the table, resting her head on top of them. She was asleep a moment later.

“Did she touch ye?” Murtagh asked in a harsh whisper.

“What?” Jamie asked, staring blearily at his godfather. “Why?”

“Just answer the bloody question. Did she touch ye?”

Jamie felt his frown deepen.

“Aye… She did.”

“When? What was happening?”

“She’d got me on my feet to come down to she could tend ye. I started havin’ a vision again. The pain was awful. Thought my head was gonna burst. And then she… I dinna ken what it was, Murtagh. But it was beautiful. Like she just reached in and pulled the pain out.”

“And the vision?”

Jamie shook his head before wincing.

“It was over before she did anything. Murtagh, what does this mean? You kent Mam and Da, Willie. I dinna ken what’s happening to me.”

Murtagh made a valiant effort at smiling, though it ended up looking more garish than soothing. It did nothing to tame the fear churning inside him. His visions were getting out of control and he didn’t know what to do. Anyone who might have helped him, who’d gone through this before, was dead. Jenny didn’t have the same powers and not in the same intensity. Loathe as he was to admit it, Jamie was growing fearful of his own power.

“You’re growing, lad. I didna see Brian come into his full powers, ken. But I saw what Ellen did for him a time or two. They were a True Pair, aye? Meant for one another.”

“Aye, Jenny said so. Mam broke an engagement wi’ another man to marry Da.”

Murtagh waved his hand dismissively.

“Ach. That was part of it. But yer da was one of the most powerful psychics in the world. His visions were strong, like yours are, started causin’ him problems. Until he met Ellen. What she did for him… I dinna ken if there’s words strong enough for it. But the look on your face was the same he had after Ellen healed him.”

“Mam was… Mam was a healer?”

“Aye, like yon Claire.”

A tight ache formed in Jamie’s chest at the thought of his mother. He didn’t remember much about her, and only had a few photographs of her. Murtagh had known her for a long time, though he didn’t speak of it often.

“What does it mean?” he asked, heart pounding. “That she’s a healer like Mam?”

“It means ye need to keep her close, aye? If yer visions get worse, like Brian’s did, they could rightly kill ye. Ye need her.”

A sudden realization hit Jamie like a ton of bricks.

“Da didna die of a stroke, did he?”

Murtagh shook his head slowly.

“No, lad. It was his visions what killed him. We only had it written up as a stroke, to try and keep you and Jenny safe. Losing Ellen meant he had no healer to keep the visions from getting too strong.”

Jamie looked at Claire, sleeping peacefully in front of him. A dark tendril of curly hair brushed her pale cheek, making her look heartbreakingly young and innocent. He swallowed and shook his head.

“She’s got a man, Murtagh, a life. I canna ask her to gi’ that up.”

“When ye first read her tea leaves, and then her palms, what did ye see?”

Jamie closed his eyes to recall the images.

“No, lad! Dinna do it that way or you’ll start bleedin’ again and she needs time to recover. Just think, dinna call it up again. Use memory, not power.”

Rather than recall the images, he recalled the memories.

“I told her she had a choice to make, her life branched into two paths. One was uneventful, but comfortable. The other was more exciting. Neither would bring destruction.”

“What do ye think that means?”

“I dinna ken,” Jamie complained, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I try not to interpret things for other people, ye ken that. And I dinna look into my own future.”

Murtagh nodded slowly.

“Aye. But maybe just think about what that might mean for her. And for you. She already keeps your secrets. And she was drawn here tonight, like she kent ye needed her. Your power calls to hers, they compliment each other, ken. Ye need her, but she needs you too.”

Jamie’s eyes moved to Claire again, her mouth hanging slightly open in sleep. He wondered if she would have kept herself awake under more normal circumstances.

“Did it hurt her? When she healed me?”

“Dinna ken, but I dinna think so. Ellen explained it to me like this. It’s no’ so much that she takes the pain into herself, but she channels it out o’ you.”

“And it willna hurt her?”

“As long as she doesna go too far, no,“ Murtagh responded, shaking his head. His good eye moved to Claire, exhausted and dead to the world, and his expression softened. "This was, I’d be willin’ to bet, the first time she did this sort o’ healing. I’m surprised she made it down the stairs, let alone stitched me up.”

Jamie took in the sight of her; her pale skin; her brown, curly hair ruffling over her shoulders. If left in that position, she would wake up sore. He couldn’t bear the thought of her in any sort of pain.

“What are ye thinkin’ lad?”

Jamie knew, if left in that position, she would wake up sore. He couldn’t bear the thought of her in any sort of pain.

“That Claire willna wake verra happy if we leave her slumped over like a sack of grain.”

Murtagh rolled his eye.

“And just how do ye expect us to get her onto the couch?”

“No’ the couch. She saved our lives tonight. The spare bedroom, at least.”

The eye went wide enough that Jamie half worried it would fall out of his head.

“Up the stairs?! Have ye gone mad? Claire didna say ye’d been clouted o’er the heid!”

Jamie started to shrug, but caught himself.

“I havena been clouted o’er the head, Murtagh. Maybe I’ve gone mad, but she did save our lives.”

Murtagh pursed his lips, wincing as the split began oozing again.

“Aye. And ye’ve a useless arm. How do ye propose we get her up the stairs? Magic?!”

Jamie rolled his eyes.

“Ye have visions, Jamie. Ye dinna lift things with yer mind.”

“Come on. I’ll no’ leave her here.”

Between the two of them, they somehow got her up the stairs. There was one moment when Jamie was sure Murtagh was about to drop her, but they kept themselves together. Murtagh lay her on the bed and left, seeing no other need. Jamie heard him shuffle down the stairs and putter about the kitchen.

Jamie struggled for a moment before removing her shoes, setting them on the floor beside the bed. Then he brushed back the curls on her forehead, staring at her beautiful face. Before he knew what he was doing, he leaned down and pressed his lips to the top of her head.

“Rest, mo ghraidh,” he whispered in Gaelic, the endearment from his vision coming all too easily in the present. His thumb softly stroked her cheek. “Get peace while you can, for I fear your life has been thrown into chaos by mine.”

Continue to Part 5

Dirty Mouth II


Characters : Jon Moxley (or Dean Ambrose, its more Mox era though) x OC/Reader

Summary: Mox wants more and OFC isn’t quite sure. Follow on from my original Dirty Mouth fic, you don’t need to read the other one but that one is a bit smuttier if thats your thaaaang.

Warnings: NSFW, Sexual Content, Swearing, Dirty Talk, Unprotected Sex.

Do let me know if you wanna be tagged in any of my fics (:  Please please please let me know what you think!


Keep reading

Cullen jumped from his chair the moment he heard the scream that resonated from the backyard. A second later, his youngest daughter came scampering through the back door, nearly tripping over her own feet in her haste. Before she could tear past him, Cullen reached down and caught her around the waist, halting in her tracks. He could feel her small frame trembling making his heart ache and filling him with concern.

“Little love, what’s wrong? What happened?”

She tried to squirm from his grasp but Cullen wouldn’t relent. Lowering himself to a knee, he pulled his youngest daughter into a tight embrace. She resisted for a moment before finally throwing two small arms around his neck and sobbing into his shoulder. He held her close, rubbing her back and smoothing her hair while quietly shushing her frightened sobs.

It seemed like an eternity before she began to relax. It felt even longer before she lifted her head of golden curls to gaze at him in wide-eyed terror. “Daddy, I– I made snow with–with my hands…” She hiccuped, pulling her arms from around his neck to gape at her dainty hands. “I'm–I’m a mage!”

Smiling warmly, Cullen pulled his scared little girl into another hug and pressed a tender kiss to her temple.

“Hi, mage. I’m dad.”

Not A Bad Thing ~ Part Eight

Originally posted by katherine8595


Fairy-tale & AU Series Index

Previous Part ||

Word Count: 3.4K

****Trigger Warning: Mentions of bullying and suicide****

Errors. Please excuse and ignore them.

***A/N: This chapter is SOOO SHORT. 

This is a FILLER chapter y’all. I don’t like how this chapter came out. lol I lowkey feel dead inside. Like a dead inside emotionless typing machine. :\

{Update days: Tuesdays, Thursday or Saturdays}


I sat there at the table with Y/N, who was teasing me. There was music blasting around us as the others celebrated, yet when I’m looking at her, it’s almost like the music was muffled. She has my full attention. Those deep eyes staring at me. The way her nose crinkles when she laughs, and how never fails to make my heart beat rapidly.

I took a deep breath, almost overwhelmed by the swelling of my heart.

“I don’t like crazy romantic stuff like that. I don’t want to be a damsel in distress that needs to be saved.” She said, raising an eyebrow at me.

I glanced down at my hand which held hers. I looked back up to see her gazing at me, waiting for a reply.

“If anything I’m the damsel,” I stated, “You saved me.”

I watched as she leaned away, almost cringing at my words. My eyes didn’t move from hers despite this.

“Why are you getting so intense all of a sudden?” She giggled. Though it’s been some months now, it still feels like I don’t know much about Y/N. The desire to be close to her is strong. When the pack goes for runs, she’s all that’s on my mind.

Yixing told me we should try to grow closer before mating season begins, or else things will become awkward.

I smirked before grabbing the bottom of the chair she sat in, sliding it closer to me so that we were close to each other. Y/N held in her laughter, clearly teasing me.

“You play around too much,” I whispered into her ear.

After winking at me she whispered, “What are you going to do about it, loverboy?”

Keep reading

Professor Jones

This is an alternate universe fic. Emma is a college graduate student and Killian is her professor. Smuttiness ensues. This is rated M for mature. Please enjoy the naughty goodness. This and my other stories are also on

chapter 2 / chapter 3/ Chapter 4

Emma wiped her hands on her jeans and braced herself. Walking into Professor Jones class took herculean effort. She would deny it until her last breath, but she swore the air seemed to sizzle when they were together. If the Maritime History class hadn’t been one of the required courses for her graduate course she would have bailed. She tried to switch professors but was denied as the other professor’s class was full. She took a deep breath, opened the door of the lecture hall and quickly blew it out in relief. The hall was empty. Confused and a little irritated that she hadn’t been given notice, she assumed class was canceled. She turned on her heels and headed back out the door when she heard the smooth voice.
“Going somewhere Swan?”
She hated when he called her that. She had asked him to please call her Emma for the better part of three weeks with no results. She hadn’t seen him sitting in the chair adjacent to the lecture podium. With his signature, all black attire, he blended seamlessly into the dark. It annoyed her that a professor would wear tight black jeans and black shirts. What the hell kind of teacher dresses like that anyway she thought. The black shouldn’t surprise her since he practically radiated darkness. Sexy, gorgeous, darkness. She watched as he stood up in the chair and begin to make his way toward her. Her breath hitched and she licked her lips nervously.
“I guess I didn’t get the memo that class was canceled” she said with a bite.
“Well that’s shame. I thought I emailed everyone in class but you must have been left off the list. Actually, this works out splendidly since I needed to speak with you anyway.”
The last thing Emma wanted to do was stand in a dark, empty lecture hall with him. He was too close. He was always too close. She could smell him and the scent of leather and something woodsy filled her until she wanted to curl up in his arms and breath him in. It was always like this. The first time she saw him on campus she felt like she’d been punched. The way his dark hair fell over his eyes, the long, confident stride, and the accent had every girl that saw him dropping at his feet. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing she was practically salivating every time he was nearby.  
“And what would that be about professor?” she crossed her arms as she spoke, as much to send a DO NOT CROSS signal as it was to keep her hands from betraying her by running them down his body.
“I’ve dropped you from this class” he said turning to gather up his papers. Emma’s jaw fell open.
“You what? Why would you do that? I need this class Mr. Jones” she began to plead.
“Swan, relax. I got you into Hopper’s class. I was assured by your advisor it fit into your schedule and that you had been trying to get in but were denied. I thought you’d be pleased” he said with a lift of his brow and a slight smirk.
“Oh. Uh, thank you. But why?”
As he slung his bag over his shoulder he turned and grinned at her. Emma was sure her heart stopped and restarted as he practically glided over to stand in front of her. His smile made her think of a crocodile ready to devour its prey.
“Because you can’t have a relationship with a student you are teaching. It’s frowned upon apparently”.
“We aren’t in a relationship” she said with more cockiness than the blush creeping up her neck allowed for.
“Not yet love” he whispered and walked out of the room.

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You Should Know Better Pt. 10

(Part One) (Part Two) (Part Three) (Part Four) (Part Five) (Part Six) (Part Seven) (Part Eight)  (Part Nine)

Summary: Last class before Spring Break and someone decides to get handsy.
POV: Joe
Characters: Joe Merriweather, Natalie, Ryan
Word Count: 2200ish
Author’s Note: This is more of a filler chapter. I had bigger plans for this chapter, but I ended it prematurely. 
Quote: “Maybe that’s the point of my so-called ‘shitty punishments’ – make you want more.” 


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Adrien the Civilian

For ML Angst Week of @miraculous-weeks

Day 1: Mistakes/Aftermath

It’s my first time doing something like this so… Enjoy the angst? It’s 3000 words and only lightly edited so I put a read more ok im sorry

Warning: Character death, heavy angst. You’ve been warned.

Edit: I just realized I also hit the other day’s prompts? I—

AO3 link

It wasn’t supposed to happen that way.

It was just a simple akuma attack. Just like any other.

The Baker, he was simply called, had the ability to turn everything into bread. He was a giant, however, easily towering halfway over Collège Françoise Dupont, and he wielded a giant rolling pin that could flatten everything in his path. The plan was simple—Ladybug would use her Lucky Charm, a bag of flour, and Chat Noir would come in and destroy the giant rolling pin with his Cataclysm. It wasn’t like they could just break that thing over their knees and call it a day, after all.

With their usual team effort, they had managed to blind The Baker with the flour and trip him with Ladybug’s string. She then hollered at him to use Cataclysm on the akuma’s rolling pin.

“Now!” she’d shouted, urgently.

He only did as he was told.

Keep reading


Lots and lots of people wanted to hear this so I’m finally posting it!

I’m going to do it as y/n and you because that’s how I usually write and I’ll just get confused.

“You all gotta come to this thing for my moms birthday tonight, it’s going to be boring as hell but there will be tonnes of booze, you’ll be doing me a favour??” Monty pleaded with everyone, after debating they all decided to go “you should come too y/n” he glanced over and you nodded.

Hours later at home you tried to decide what to wear, finally going for a bodycon dress and heeled boots then did your make up and hair. You arrived at the “thing” as Monty called it which you agreed on because it definitely wasn’t a party. Everyone was in suits or fancy dresses and looked mighty posh.

You noticed the group at the drinks table and made your way over “this seriously sucks!” Jessica laughed and everyone agreed “I’m sorry I know but cmon free booze?” Monty tried to win them over once more with the same speech, you just chuckled and took a glass as he smiled at you. It had been over an hour, Montys dad was dragging his mom around the room greeting guests, she didn’t look happy though, in fact she looked as bored and miserable than we did. She took a seat and slumped a little looking deflated as the light piano music played. You’d gotten to your boredest and had to do something drastic.

Scooting across to the guy playing music (hardly a dj) you handed him your phone and instructed him to play Stars On 45 then you strutted across the dance floor and took Montys moms hand, pulling her up she looked horrified but you smiled and pulled her towards the floor “it’s your night, enjoy it!” You shouted over the music and started to dance with her, she began to relax and danced too. Montys dad went into a rage and marched over “stop this at once!” He gritted getting a little too close to your face, just as Monty slid in front of you and pushed his dad back “don’t speak to either of them like that!” He shouted at his dad “they’re ruining the night Montgomery!” His dad protested.

You carried on dancing with mrs de la Cruz as your phone played out 70s and 80s music, the rest of the group were shocked at your balls of steel and finally decided to join in with dancing, You danced around with montys mom as she leaned over “you’re perfect for my son” he said in your ear making you laugh “I’m serious, he likes you!” She giggled like a school girl, you glanced over at him and he caught your gaze, biting his lip he smiled at you. By now more guests were dancing and enjoying the now party, Montys mom went to dance with them as you felt a tap on your shoulder, spinning round you didn’t even have time to stop when Montys lips were on yours, kissing you deeply you were pretty sure you felt him moan. “my mom was right, you’re fucking perfect” he said kissing you again.

The Accident Part 7

Part 1   Part 2   Part 3   Part 4   Part 5  Part 6   Part 7 (Final)

Fandom: Riverdale

Ship: Jughead x Reader

Characters: Jughead, Betty, Veronica

Warnings: Mild panic attack; mentions of the car accident; major fluff

Side note - there’s been a real Shakespeare theme with these lately and I’m blaming it on the fact that I’m a total Shakespeare nerd #sorrynotsorry

Thank you so much to everyone who has like, reblogged, or responded to my story. Without y’all, I don’t have too much motivation to write. My inbox is empty right now so feel free to drop in as many requests as your heart desires! I need substance to write, and I must appease my peoples :)


He murmured, “Did my heart love till now? Forswear it, sight, for I never saw true beauty till this night,” quoting the very play we were watching. The line caused you to blush, knowing what it mean. You couldn’t tell if he meant to say it out loud or think it, but he didn’t seem to notice, and this was just one more thing you found to love about Jughead Jones.

It had been a week since you had shared your first kiss with Jughead. Since then, you two were practically inseparable. Your dad let Jughead stay in the guest bedroom most nights because he suspected something about his home situation. You had seen Archie around school and at lunch, but he made no efforts to talk to you. In the afternoons, you spent time with either Betty and Veronica talking about the hardships and trials of love, or at Pop’s with Jug. Today happened to be a day with B and V before some jock’s party started - you refused to go, but even so the two girls convinced you to help them get ready. 

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Tyler Bate Smut.

Y/N couldn’t quite recall how she ended up at Tyler’s house. She couldn’t tell you why there were tears down her face or when the rain started. Hesitant to knock, she did after a minute or so.

Praying he was home, she smiled a bit when he opened the door.“ Love! What are you doing in the rain? Why are you crying? Come on in, you’re shivering!” He exclaimed before he pulled her inside the house.Standing on his place mat, she waited when he told her to. Watching him run off, she smiled when he had come back to wrap a towel around her body.“ Come on I got some clothes for you.”

Y/N toed off her shoes as she followed him through the house.“ I-I didn’t mean to bother you. I see you’re getting ready for bed.” She nodded towards his outfit of just a pair of pajama pants.

Tyler chuckled and waved his hand at her.“ Don’t think anything of it. How about we get some warm clothes on then we go and make some tea. Then we can sit and you can tell me what happened.”

Y/N paused as she stood in his room,watching as he dug out his ‘Mustache Mountain’ and a pair of sweatpants for her. Tyler approached her and she gave him a small smile.“Thank you so much.” She murmured to him, gently taking the clothes from him. Going into the bathroom, she got changed.

Coming out of the bathroom, she was surprised to see him just waiting for her. When he looked up at her, she just ran into his body before wrapping her arms around his neck. Tyler rubbed her back gently as he just held her in his arms.“Pete-Pete.” Y/N repeated into his chest and when he backed up, he gently grabbed a hold of her face in his hands.

Tyler gave her a small smile as he stared into her eyes.“ Y/N take a deep breath. What happened with Pete?”

Y/N took a deep breath like advised before she spoke,“ Pete saw Mike cheating on me.” The words that came out made her blink back tears seeing as Tyler was holding her face.

When he did let go, she dug her face back into his chest.“ I was so stupid.” She mumbled just resting against him as he rubbed her back.

Y/N stared up at him as he pulled away from her before he grabbed her waist. Nudging her to his bed, he guided her to the bed.“How about we get some sleep love?”

Nodding, Y/N climbed into the bed and got under the covers followed by Tyler doing the same thing. When he did lay down, she wrapped her arms around his neck gently.“ If you want me to, I’ll go and beat him up. He’s no chance for me because I’m one half of the mustache mountain.”

Y/N smiled at what he said before she started relaxing when he began brushing her hair back.“ It’s okay, just hurt. Didn’t even like him that much. I like one half of mustache mountain.” She murmured to him as she pressed her face into the side of his chest.

She wasn’t sure what time she fell asleep but she remembers waking up. Her arms around Tyler, Tyler holding her close to his chest. Looking up at him, she smiled a bit. Trying to move from his grip made her realize he was already awake as she felt it tightening.

“Where you going love?” God his morning voice was so scratchy and she could listen to him talk for a while. Laying back down, she shrugged.

Now that she thought of it, she really didn’t have a place to go at the moment. She was living with Mike and even if she didn’t want to go back, she had to go and get her things.It was Tyler’s voice that broke her little trance as she thought.”Y/N, you can stay here. I don’t mind sharing my bed with you.”He said as he brushed her hair back.

Y/N nodded and smiled a bit.”Thanks Tyler but I couldn’t possibly become a bother to you.”She as about to speak again when he grabbed a hold of her cheeks once more. Y/N’s eyes flickered from him to his lips back to his eyes. Rubbing her cheek gently,she almost nuzzled her cheek into his hand.

“Y/N, what you said last night? About liking one half of mustache mountain. Is that me or Trent? Because Trent is a great guy and I know that he would treat you like a gentlem-.”His words were cut off as she leaned up to press her lips to his.

Pulling away after just a few seconds,she gave him a small smile.”Obviously it’s your half of mustache mountain that I like.”Tyler grinned at her before pulling her back to him. Leaning down,he pressed his lips to hers.

Kissing him back,her fingers brushed through his hair at the nape of his neck as she smiled into the kiss.Pulling away for just a second,she smiled up at him.”I-I like you Tyler. I have. You were dating that girl Toni. Then I started dating Mike and then you and her broke up and things didn’t work in time with one another.I thought Mike loved me but I guess I was wrong.”She admitted,her lower lip starting to tremble before Tyler kissed her once more.

Stunned,she took a few seconds before she kissed him back. His fingers skimmed down her shirt as he played with the bottom of her shirt. Pulling back,she sat up in the bed to push the covers off. Grabbing the shirt,she raised it up over her head. Y/N laughed a bit when she heard Tyler gasping.”I had to take my bra off to put it in the dryer.”She explained to him.

Tyler nodded his head and raised his hands a bit.”I am not complaining at all.”He said as he set up to gently push her back onto the spot where she was just laying.”Relax love, I’m gonna take care of you.”He reassured her as he leaned down pressing a quick kiss to her lips.

Relaxing back on the bed like he told her too, she giggled a bit when she felt him leaving kisses down the valley of her breasts. The hair of his mustache tickling against her skin which made her laugh a little bit. When he grabbed both of her boobs in his hands and squeezed,she gasped a bit.

Letting go, his mouth attached to her nipple while his hands played with the other one. Alternating in between the two, she gasped when he had bit down on her nipple. “Tyler.”She gasped out,scratching at his back gently.

Y/N bit at her lower lip as he picked his head back up from her chest with a smirk.”I want you to relax darling.”He said, pressing a kiss to her lips gently.”Just lay back and trust me dollface.”

Laying back on the bed,she watched him. Actually watched him. She studied the tattoo on his arm and the little freckles that donned across his chest moving to his abs as well. Y/N only focused in on him again when she felt his lips pressing against her neck gently.”Can I leave a little something?”His question muffled against her skin as he waited for permission.

Feeling a little nod,he smirked a bit.”I want to hear your words love.”Tyler said, his voice deeper than usual.

“I-yes please.”Y/N breathed out before she felt him smirk. After a few seconds of waiting, she let out a small gasp that she didn’t realize she was holding in as he began to nibble at a few spots on her neck. Her breathing hitched when he found her ‘sweet spot.’ Smirking he began focusing his attack there. He began nibbling and sucking up until there was a purple bruise flourishing across her skin.

Y/N’s fingers made their way into his hair and she gave him a tug when he finally pulled away from her neck.”No teasing Tyler please.”She begged before he chuckled at her begging.

Tyler pulled away with his eyebrow arched.”You’re begging for me already? Did he give you no love?”He asked as his fingers trailed down her body with a feather light touch. Tyler couldn’t help but growl when she shook her head.”I am gonna take care of you tonight. It’s all about you tonight.”

Y/N blushed at how he reacted before she felt his fingers tugging at the sweatpants she had on.”Can I take these off of you baby?” He asked,looking into her eyes before she nodded. Hooking his fingers in the waistband of the pants before he dragged them down her legs gently.”You’re so goddamn beautiful. Like an angel.”He said before hearing her laugh.

When he gave her a questioning look,she shrugged.”You’re too cheesy.”She said,laughing a little bit but squealed when he leaned down and nibbled at her thigh gently.

“Shush that pretty little mouth of yours and lay back.”Tyler demanded as he threw the pants onto the floor before he was tugging her panties down her legs as well. Once they joined the pants, Tyler sat back on his knees and smiled as he looked over Y/N’s flushed body. Hair was fanned out against the pillow, her lips parted and her eyes staying glued on him to watch for his next move.

Spreading her legs gently, he settled in between them. Y/N’s eyes focused in on him like lasers as he began pressing kisses to her ankles. Moving up her legs, he began pressing kisses to her ankles,knees, and stopping when he got to her inner thighs. Y/N’s fingers gripped the sheets as she moaned out. Biting and sucking, he smirked at the little mark it left.

Tyler licked his lips as he made eye contact with her.”Can’t wait to drive you crazy.”He growled to her before his tongue flicked out against her clit. Her fingers let go of the blankets and moved into his hair gently. Feeling him put pressure against it,she moaned out and tugged his hair gently.”You’re so damn responsive.”He praised with a smirk.

Licking at her clit a few times, she bit at her lower lip when she felt one of his fingers pressing against her entrance. Moaning when he finally pushed one into her, she tugged at his blonde locks gently.

Y/N thought he was going to stop teasing when he began pressing kisses to her thighs before she felt him adding a second finger.”Jesus, you’re so fucking tight.”He growled against her inner thigh. She tugged at his hair and let out a squeal of surprise when he had hooked his fingers inside of her.

Tyler knew what he was doing and she was definitely experiencing that. In the back of her head,all she could think about was that this was not the innocent Tyler Bate who was her best friend.

Being brought out of her thoughts by a bite to her clit,she gasped,tugging at his hair once more.”Fucks sakes!”She moaned out,throwing her head back into the pillows.

When her head hit the plush pillow, all of his movements faltered.Snapping her head back up,she stared at him with her eyebrows arched.”You keep eye contact or I’m gonna stop this.”He warned her before she bucked her hips against his fingers.

“Fine fine! I’ll keep my head up!”She exclaimed before hearing him chuckle and going back to moving his fingers in and out of her.

Not even 30 seconds later, his tongue was joining back on her clit. Y/N could feel the band in her stomach,tightening with every little thing he did whether it was move his fingers or a flicker of his tongue.

“Come on love. Come all over my fingers.”Tyler spoke and put his tongue right back to work. Few seconds later,she was spilling profanities mixed with his name as the band snapped and she was cumming all over his fingers.

Removing his fingers, he cleaned his fingers off with a smirk.”You are the best tasting thing in this whole world.I plan to eat that sweet little pussy of yours later tonight. Just you wait.You’ll be begging me to stop.”

Y/N’s face flushed red at his words and she bit her lip. She wasn’t sure what happened to her ‘innocent’ best friend but god, she never wanted him to be innocent again if this is what she’s getting.

Y/N tugged his hair before she moaned out.”Please fuck me Ty.” She panted out in a whine of sorts. Once he moved up her body, he grinned down at her. Leaning down, he pressed his lips to hers as one of her hands trailed down his chest to slide in his boxers.

Wrapping her fingers around his length,she bit at his lower lip.She was a bit surprised on what he was carrying. He was nice and thick. Not too big but he was the perfect size. Tyler growled against his lips when she wrapped around his length. Tugging at his boxers, she pulled them down as he pressed kisses against her face and her neck gently.”Tyler.”She moaned out before he nodded his head,knowing what she wanted.

Tyler pulled back off of her and looked down at her.”Are you taking any meds? Do I need a condom?”He asked and she couldn’t help but smile at how he was even a gentleman in bed. Shaking her head at him,she smirked a bit.

”On the pill. Come on babe.”She mumbled with a small pout on her lips. Nodding he laid back on top of her,his arms holding him up before she reached in between their bodies. Grabbing a hold of his cock, she lined it up with her entrance. Tyler and Y/N matched their moans as he slowly pushed into her.

Slowly moving, he was filled to the hilt in no time. Giving her a few seconds to adjust, he began thrusting when she tugged at his hair once more. “You’re so fucking tight princess. This is all mine now. You’re all mine.”Tyler growled out as he bit at her neck once more.

Y/N was too focused on him picking up the pace that she laid there with her mouth open, only moans and curses spilling out of her mouth along with his name scrambled in between.

“Tyler, more please. I won’t break.”She breathed out and he chuckled a bit in her ear before he really began thrusting into her. The sounds of their skin slapping against each other mixed with their moans and groans. Her pleasure was heightened when his thumb came back to rest on her clit,rubbing in figure eights and applying pressure.

Tyler was thrusting away when she felt herself squeezing around his cock.”Come on kitten. You gonna come on my cock?”He growled out before she dug her nails into his back and then she was coming undone. The band snapped in her stomach and she came all over him while he continued to thrust away.

Y/N tugged at his hair and clenched around him.”Come on baby, cum for me.”She said before pressing her lips to his. She moaned and arched her back when she felt him cumming inside of her. Pulling out,he rolled over onto his side of the bed and she smiled a bit.

Leaning up,she pressed her lips to his.”I’m yours. You’re mine.”She murmured to him before she rested against him when he pulled the blankets over them. Tyler nodded and pulled her into his arms with a chuckle.”You rest up cause round 2 is gonna happen soon.”He said with a smirk as he pressed a kiss to her forehead.

Y/N’s eyebrows arched up and she laughed.”I want to ride those thighs before you fuck me again.”She mumbled,squeezing at the muscles of his thighs. Chuckling,he nodded his head.”Go ahead princess, you can do whatever you want.”Y/N grinned as she rested back,letting her eyes shut.

“Love you mustache mountain.”

Love is... facing the world together.

By: @javistg

AN: I think that few things are more romantic than standing by the one you love, through good times and bad. 

With that in mind, I came up with this little story for Valentine’s Day. Hope you enjoy.

SUMMARY: Katniss and Peeta have a little conversation before their second reaping. Canon Divergent.


With a big thank you to the fantastic @titaniasfics, @akai-echo and @thegirlfromoverthepond for all their hard work. Love you, ladies, you’re awesome!


The eerie howls of vicious mutts pierced the air.

Katniss ran.

Sprigs and branches scratched her face and pierced her skin, trying to trap her as she desperately made her way through the woods.

She had almost reached the clearing when she heard them again.

The blood-thirsty creatures wailed, screeching her name as they followed her steps.

She reached the cornucopia, practically crashing against its metallic surface, and turned around looking for Peeta.

He wasn’t there.

Frantic, she tried to call out his name. But the darkness of the arena enveloped her, pushing her words down her throat and drowning her in its terrifying depths.


Keep reading

Eighth Christmas

the series is as follows so far:

FirstSecond ThirdFourthFifthFifth Christmas, Part 2SixthSeventhEighthNinthTenthEleventhTwelfthThirteenthFourteenthFifteenthSixteenthSeventeenthEighteenthNineteenthTwentiethTwenty-firstTwenty-secondTwenty-third


Scully spent Christmas Eve at Maggie’s surrounded by loud family, mounds of presents, her mother’s recently acquired goldfish and what felt like a gigantic hole where her heart should have been. William enjoyed his Merry-Go-Round ride from relative to relative, drooling, patting, sitting up and pulling hair whenever possible. She, on the other hand, spent her time staring into space, remembering the two Christmases that Mulder spent with her family, sitting behind her on the floor, hand gently resting a hair’s width from her thigh, shin folded against her back end as he shuffled up close, watching the festivities over her shoulder, his breath so close to her, so warm and soft on her neck.

Suddenly, a restlessness shook her, a need to move, a need to see him, a need to hold him so strong she had to stand, pacing back and forth to the confusion of her mother, who watched her quietly from the couch. Her circle took her from the living room to the kitchen, down the hall, past the bathroom and stairs, soon returning to the living room. She traced the path four times before she found Maggie standing in her way in the darkened hall.

“Honey, are you all right?”

Rooted there, hands playing with themselves, wringing absently, “I need to go home, Mom. I just … something … I need to go. I’m sorry. I know it’s not that late but if you won’t hate me, I’m going to get going.”

She didn’t want to see them go but something in Dana’s tone of voice drove her to nod her head, “of course. Just tell everyone Will kept you up late last night and you both need your rest.”

Crooking an eyebrow and trying to smile, “lying on Christmas Eve. God will not approve.”

“I’ll deal with the repercussions but I think it will be fine.” Giving Scully a hug, “just don’t forget to come back in the morning. I’ll have been too long away from my little Will by then.” Stepping back, Maggie gave her a soft look, “we’ll be up at 6am, like usual, Mass at 9, breakfast at 10:30, like always.”

“We’ll be here, promise.”

With a smile, “do your best.”


Scully managed to get into her apartment and lock the door before she stopped dead in her tracks, her senses coming on line instantly. Putting Will’s carrier gently down on the floor partially under the end table, she slipped her gun from her waist, then began scouting the apartment, not sure what was bothering her but looking thoroughly through every room, closet, behind ever door and under every bed. Once she was satisfied, she returned to the living room, retrieving Will first before her eyes finally processed what was different.

Hanging on the Christmas tree, dead center and nearly hidden by an angled branch, was an ornament that had not been there earlier in the day.

Spinning quickly on her heel, she half expected to see him standing behind her, ready to scare the bejesus out of her, kiss her, hug her, cry when he saw how big his son was becoming. Instead, she only saw an empty kitchen, cold and dark, the misery overwhelming her instantly; she’d missed him, missed him sneaking in, missed him wanting to see his little boy and her, missed him so close she could smell his soap and taste his skin.

She burst into tears.


It was well after midnight before she finally began dozing, her head nodding, her ears finally relaxing to every sound made within the apartment. She was just slipping into a half-formed dream of Mulder when she felt a pair of ice cold lips on her own. Eyes flying open, Scully saw him, so real and so very close that the first thing she did was swing, heavy-fisted, catching him squarely at the top of his cheekbone, sliding her knuckles across his closed eye and ramming into his nose. After a millisecond of hesitated confusion, she was crouching over his hunched form, Mulder holding his face and groaning.

Yanking his hands away, she twisted his head towards her and kissed him, amazed he was real and whole and in front of her when she missed him the most.

He kissed her back for a few moments, then pulled away, whispering, “what the hell was that!?”

She met his mouth again and he stopped asking questions, too busy running his hands over her, pulling her tightly against him, to worry about a bruised cheekbone and burning eye. He only separated enough to pull the sweater over her head, making a note to comment on it eventually, once he remembered how to say more than a moaned ‘I love you’ in the general vicinity of her bare breasts, smooth thighs, curved ass and valleyed back.


The fear, however, set in the moment the pooled sweat between them began to evaporate. He felt her muscles tense, coiling in preparation to defend him, to kill him, to throw him from her house in fear for their son’s life.

His hands came down on her upper arms, his leg holding her knees, voice almost inaudibly, “don’t do this yet … please?”

She beat him to the punch, sliding sideways from his grasp and off the bed, shivering suddenly in the cold darkness, “do what? Wonder if somebody’s going to break in here and kill you? Shoot you in my bed?”

Mulder shushed her as he sat up, pulling the sheets around his shoulders, “yell any louder you’re going to wake up Will.”

“What the hell are you doing here, Mulder? You’re supposed to be hiding somewhere, far, far away from the eight thousand people who have you at the top of their shit list.”

Seeing this might not go as smoothly as he’d hoped, he sat up, pushing aside sheets, reaching out to wrap his fingers around her hip to pull her closer, “I couldn’t stay away. Not on Christmas. The guys have been dropping hints that I’m somewhere in southern Florida and the surveillance team that had eyes on you tonight gave up and went home to their families or their bottles of whiskey or their mothers, I have no idea, but Byers gave me the all clear to come in and I did and you belted me.”

Stomach clenching, “there’s a team on me?”

“Yeah. Skinner’s guys so not too terrible but I couldn’t have anyone, not even Walter, know I’m here so I had to wait until they left.”

By now, she was trapped between knobby knees, thigh muscles giving under the pressure of his hold on her, “then where did the ornament come from?”

Not smiling, wishing with all his heart he’d been the one to hang it, “I gave it to Frohike to hang for me in case I didn’t make it inside.”

She kissed him again with a fierceness fueled by six-month separation, her lips hovering over his when she finally pulled back to catch her breath, “do you want to see Will?”

His arms tightened around her, a spasmodic jerk of nervous anxiety, “yes, please.”

After pulling on pajamas, she retrieved their son, climbing carefully into bed before laying him between them. Mulder settled beside him immediately, head against the mattress alongside the boy’s, staring in wonder at his perfect nose, curved chin and pursed lips, “God, Scully, how can I ever leave him again?”

“You don’t have to.”

Allowing Will to blur slightly as he focused on Scully over his head, “please don’t make this harder. I have a few more hours then,” tears ran rivers down his cheeks at this point but she made no move to clear them, “God, don’t fight with me now, okay? I can’t handle it.”

Heart breaking, she cried with him, watching him smooth his fingers over light eyebrows and reddening hair, button nose and chin cleft, apple-round cheeks and near-translucent eyelids. Quiet tears fell on small pajamas and Scully held her boys as close as possible while they snuggled on the rumpled bed, breathed lullabies sung to sleeping ears. Mulder lived, for a brief moment, the mundane, homebound existence he wished for and dreamed of every hour he was awake and every moment he slept.

Eventually, exhaustion drove her to sleep but Mulder remained alert, basking in the precious time he was part of a family again.

His family.

His tiny, bigger than the world family.


He stayed until just before dawn, holding his boy close for the last hour, cradling him to his chest, memorizing his smell, his fingers and toes, his hummingbird heartbeat and the sounds he made, from cooing to grunting to that soul-melting sigh that made Mulder shut his eyes, try to absorb the perfection that was his son.


Scully woke to an empty bed, Will gone but making noise on the baby monitor, demanding breakfast and a clean diaper. The depression settled in quickly, the cold, heaviness of the apartment telling her he was already gone.

Moving automatically to Will’s room, she found a note hanging from the crib, taped and innocently waiting to be read. Forcing herself to wait until she’d changed Will and fed him, she finally settled him on her hip before unfolding the paper.

An hour later, she forced herself to get both of them ready for the return trip to Grandma’s house, Scully finally giving up halfway through, moving to the tree to examine yet again the ornament he’d left behind: one of a little boy in an oversize Yankee jersey, cap askew, glove at his feet, bat too large to hold up off the ground with the words ‘Daddy’s Little Home Run Hitter’ written underneath.

On the opposite side, Mulder had carefully printed in his trademark Sharpie “I love you” and the year.


Summary: Before Sansa leaves for King’s Landing, Jon unexpectedly gives her comfort, and something more, in a time of trouble. Ned Stark puts a stop to it.

For @jonxsansafanfiction Day 7: Flowers (Jon x Sansa: 15 Days of Valentines). Multiple POV.

Shoutout to @janebrkin for the lovely idea of Jon comforting Sansa during thunderstorms when she was little - I was inspired by your story and people should go read it! :)


Jon knew it was wrong, truly wrong, because his father was angry. Lady Catelyn had been known to come down hard on him for some perceived slight, but his father was fair, and rarely raised his voice. Lord Stark’s face was stormy now, his grey eyes like chipped flint.

“Never again, Jon, do you understand? You cannot–” Jon had seen his father at a loss for words before, but never with his mouth working quite this way. “Sansa is meant for–”

“A prince, I know, father.” Joffrey had pranced into Winterfell like the spoiled brat he was, and something about the way Sansa looked at him made Jon’s blood boil.

His father swallowed, then nodded. “Yes. A prince.”

Jon shifted uncomfortably in his seat. His father had ordered him into the Lord’s Chambers and pointed for him to sit, after bellowing at Jon and Sansa in the godswood. Sansa had fled. “Why were you cruel to her, father? I gave her the crown. It was my fault. Sansa didn’t do anything wrong.” Jon wasn’t sure what he’d done wrong either, but he knew Sansa was blameless.

His father ran a hand over his face. “I’ll talk to her, Jon. It’s not your fault, either, you just – you must promise me, now, never to be alone with Sansa again.”

Jon didn’t fully understand why he had to stay away from his half-sister, but he swore the oath then and there. He didn’t even risk saying goodbye to her when he left for the Wall. Sometimes, when he took the watch at night, he’d look out over the shelf of ice and remember the crown he’d placed in Sansa’s red hair. He’d whisper a prayer into the cold air that Joffrey had become the prince Sansa deserved.


It was only flowers. Sansa liked flowers, liked to plait them in her hair and tuck them into Lady’s collar. So when Jon learned what had happened to upset her, he picked most of the blue roses in the glass gardens. He snapped off the thorns and wove a kind of crown –lopsided, hardly the perfect construction Sansa would have made. Jon might not get along with Sansa easily, but he cared for her, just like he cared for all his family. Maybe not quite the same way, since Sansa had come of age and he’d been less able to meet her eyes. Something tightened in his chest now when he saw her toss her hair over her shoulder, and he wasn’t inclined to examine the feeling too closely.

Sansa was ecstatic when the royal visit was announced. Jon would need to practice staying out of the way, but Sansa was to be put forward as a candidate for betrothal to the Baratheon prince. Sansa had always been a thoughtful, courteous girl, and she’d made a gift for Joffrey. Jon had seen her bent over her work in her lap, the tip of her tongue sticking out as she concentrated. She’d presented Joffrey with a handkerchief, emblazoned with a golden lion, that even Jon could tell was finely worked. Joffrey had bowed to her, and Sansa glowed with happiness.

At least, she did until she picked up the handkerchief by the corner that afternoon, where Joffrey had dropped it in the mud. Joffrey and his guards had just passed by the training yard, where Robb and Jon were sparring. The sound of their ugly laughter made Jon angry. He came at Robb quicker than he should have, and got in a few blows before getting thwacked in the shoulder by Robb’s wooden sword. He was rubbing his arm as he saw Sansa and Jeyne walking together. 

Robb kept striding towards the gate. Jon saw Sansa was slumping, with her head down, and he slowed his pace. Being a bastard had few privileges, but this was one of them. Jon noticed things others didn’t, and since his station lent him a kind of invisibility, he was able to hear and see details others missed. He’d surprised his lord father more than once with his knowledge of the goings-on around the castle.

“I’ll never be able to get it clean, but I suppose it makes no difference. He didn’t care for it anyway.” Sansa was twisting the dirty handkerchief in her hands. “Oh Sansa, I’m so sorry, I’m sure he didn’t mean what he said.” Jeyne sounded as if she didn’t believe her own lie. Sansa had shaken her head. “It doesn’t matter, Jeyne. I’ll stitch him finer things. I’ll be more beautiful, I’ll make him love me.” The tremor in Sansa’s voice scared Jon the most, made him afraid for her, afraid of what she might give away to this boy. So he decided to give her something of her own.

He’d found her in the godswood the next day, and listened to her, and held out the makeshift gift. “The crown of love and beauty, for you, you’re already beautiful, Sansa. He’s your prince, he’ll love you and treat you kindly. He has to. Any prince would.” You’re worth loving, he wanted to say, but he thought that might be a step too far, even though it was true. Jon placed it on her head. She’d smiled, and asked him to play an old game. Father had crashed through the branches a few minutes later, yanking him by his injured arm, while Sansa ran. 


The stitching, Sansa thought numbly, I’ll never get the mud out. She’d begged gold thread from her mother, too, to make sure the lion’s head gleamed. Her favor had floated half-in, half-out of the puddle. Joffrey’s sneering remark echoed in her ears. All she could think was that her needlework must have been coarse, and uneven, though she’d checked and checked. She had to do better, though she wasn’t sure how. So when she heard someone step through the trees into the godswood, she was momentarily angry. Couldn’t she be left alone, to cry, to be unladylike for once in her life? She wiped her eyes, and held tight to the low tree branch. A light rain had started to fall, and the bark was slightly slippery.

Jon emerged from the leaves. He was prone to sulking, and there was an anger and melancholy that never left him. But before her mother made it clear she was to have nothing to do with Jon, when she was very little, and scared of storms outside her window, Sansa would sometimes go to him at night and ask to sleep in his bed. Robb would let her too, of course. He would chuckle, and muss her hair, and tell her there was nothing to worry about before falling back asleep. Sansa would still shake, though, each time the thunder boomed. Robb was big and strong, her oldest brother. He wasn’t frightened by the storm. But Sansa was small, so small it was hard for her to climb into Robb’s bed. She couldn’t stop the fear that coursed through her each time the thunder sounded as if it would swallow her up. Jon would tell her it was all right to be scared. He would hold her, and talk to her, until the rain ceased. She could still recall how warm he’d been, how he’d sing to her in a high, sweet voice if she asked. Her lady mother forbade her from joining her half-brother in bed when she turned six, and Sansa learned that the word “bastard” separated Jon and Robb. Although Sansa dutifully turned her head away now when Jon walked by, she remembered that he’d been gentle with her, when they were children.

Still, she was ashamed of her tears, and wasn’t sure she wanted to share them. “Did you come to mock me too, Jon?” She heard the thread of anger in her voice, but held her chin high. Jon stopped in front of her, strangely quiet. It took her a moment to realize he was holding a mass of blue flowers in his hand.

“No, Sansa. I – I came to see if you were all right.”

If he had been wheedling, or commanding, she would have sent him packing. Instead he let the silence draw out between them, and Sansa began to relax. Then, slowly, she began to talk, in fits and starts. “I wasn’t – the gift, Jon, I made Joffrey a favor, I spent weeks on it, getting every stitch right, though there’s no reason for you to know that–“

“I saw you,” Jon said. “You’d work on it day and night. You brought it outside a few times, while we trained.”

“The sunlight, it’s best for certain techniques, I – you noticed?” She thought Jon Snow would be the last person to pay attention to an embroidery hoop.

“You seemed…tense, while you did it. And you stuck your tongue out.” The corner of his mouth quirked.

“I do that when I’m concentrating. Though I’d rather others couldn’t tell.”  She gathered her skirts in an effort to look dignified, even when sitting in a tree. “Yes. Well. I’d hoped – I’d hoped the prince would like it. I’m only a lady, Jon, not a princess, I have to show him I’m not stupid, I’m worth marrying, worth bringing to King’s Landing, there are so many others he could choose. I heard him, did you know that? I heard what he said, when he dropped it. ‘Trust a dog not to know a lion’s likeness.’” She twisted her damp hair around her finger. Jon listened to her, really listened as she talked, it felt liked so few people did that anymore. “I did my best, Jon, I asked Maester Luwin to show me pictures in the library, I stitched the lion as fine as I could.”

He held the flowers out to her mutely. “Thank you Jon.” Sansa was polite, but puzzled. “What is it?”

“It’s a crown,” Jon said. “Love and beauty.” She and Robb and Jon had played this game a thousand times when they were younger, the Queen of Love and Beauty. Robb, her bright-eyed brother with the easy laugh, had always won, and named her his queen. Jon was the one before her now, serious and solemn. She bowed her head. When he placed the crown on her hair, his touch was light. He told her she was beautiful, and any prince would love her.

She drew strength from his gesture, enough to bring back some of her good humor. “Should you swear fealty then?” Robb would have teased her, and chucked her under the chin. She half-expected Jon to stammer out an excuse, and leave the way he came. Instead Jon simply went down on one knee, and took her hand. They were too old for this game, and perhaps that was the reason for the flush on her cheeks. His curls were wet, and stuck to his forehead. He brushed the back of her hand with his lips. “My queen.” Jon looked up at her with dark eyes as if she already was a queen, as if there was no room for doubt.

She held onto that look, even after father’s lecture, even after arriving in King’s Landing. She thought back on it when Joffrey’s men struck her, when Littlefinger undressed her with his eyes.

After she bled, when she was to be wed to the man she knew to be a monster, she picked at the blue roses she’d embroidered on her gown. I’m already beautiful. Any prince would love me. Sansa started to cry. Jon had spoken those words that day as if they were as true and as plain as the rain that soaked her hair. 


Promise me, Ned. Ned knew he was terrifyingly close to failing Lyanna, when he saw Jon Targaryen kneeling before his daughter in the godswood, as a crown of winter roses graced her hair. Sansa’s gaze was rapt, and Jon looked at her like she was the sun and stars together. No, he thought, Jon, stop, you can’t, a love like this once broke the world apart. So he shattered the scene, sending Sansa running, dragging Jon back to Winterfell’s halls. He’d forbid his daughter and his nephew from spending time with each other. He’d send Jon to the Wall, and escort Sansa safely to King’s Landing, before he’d let a love so strong and dangerous bloom again.

rtarara  asked:

Sharing a bed. - Lextra :D

“Quit hogging the blankets!”

“I am doing no such thing.  There is an exact equal amount of blanket on either side of the bed, Agent.  If you would lie still and refrain from kicking my shins, perhaps you would stay completely covered.”

In retaliation, Alex sat up in the tiny double bed and glowered at Astra, who was laying on top of her half of the threadbare sheets and cheap, worn comforter.  She scoffed and rolled her eyes, gathered two large handsfull of the covers and gave them a sharp yank.

Surprised by the sudden upset of her bedding, Astra gave an undignified yelp and rolled off the bed onto the wooden floor.

A tense silence fell over the room as Astra sat up and whipped her hair from her face, white streak shining in the moonlight filtering through the gauzy window drapes.  Alex’s jaw dropped open, shocked that her one effort to regain some warmth in the chilly room affected Astra’s equilibrium so entirely.  By all rights, she shouldn’t have budged.

Alex risked a peek over the side of the bed before the silence was broken by the bark of her laugh.  The sight of Astra fuming on the floor, disheveled and shaken, sent Alex into additional peals of laughter.  She clutched her abs and rolled back on the bed.  “I- I can’t breathe- oh my god.  I- I’m sorry!”  She continued to attempt to apologize to her laughter until tears ran down her face and she was sitting on the bed, shaking with mirth.

Astra stood and brushed hands down the bodysuit she refused to change out of before they had crawled into the shared bed.  She lifted her head haughtily and reminded herself silently that this arrangement was temporary, until they could convince Non that she was truly dead and he had conducted her funeral.  Then they would return to National City and even though she would still be in hiding, at least she would not have to be in proximity of this maddening, frustrating woman any longer.

The thought sent a confusing, disappointed pang through her heart and she ignored it for the moment in favor of getting her revenge.

She launched herself onto the bed with a growl, pushing Alex onto her back and wrapping one strong hand around her throat.  She didn’t apply any pressure, simply forced Alex to meet her eyes. “Stop laughing at me, Agent.  And lie still on your side of the bed until you fall asleep, am I clear?”

Alex’s eyes flashed in defiance and she squirmed helplessly.  “Only if you agree to lie under the covers and relax.  You’re stressing me out,” she growled.

Astra let her go.  “Fine.”


Alex climbed under the covers and rolled over, trying to control her breathing and attempting to forget the way Astra’s free hand had landed on her waist, seemingly without her knowledge.  She squeezed her eyes closed and waited while Astra laid down under the covers, still stiff as a board, but radiating a gentle warmth that slowly began to relax Alex as she drifted into a fitful sleep.

Sixth Christmas

the series is as follows so far:

FirstSecond ThirdFourthFifthFifth Christmas, Part 2SixthSeventhEighthNinthTenthEleventhTwelfthThirteenthFourteenthFifteenthSixteenthSeventeenthEighteenthNineteenthTwentiethTwenty-firstTwenty-secondTwenty-third


After the monster that was Rob Roberts, they ended up with a layover in Chicago. Mulder looked out the window at the waiting area, decided he wanted to see Chicago and turned to Scully, suggesting they should stay there, check out the wonders of the Christmas season in the Windy City.

She’d only said they’d better do it on their dime and not the FBI’s. He’d agreed wholeheartedly, given he really didn’t want to have to explain to accounting why he had a room with a Jacuzzi tub and had raided the mini-bar within an inch of its life.

It was a medium-sized nightmare to get their luggage off the plane but between two badges, authoritative voices and a wee bit of lying, they were soon in a hastily rented compact car, Mulder with his knees up around his ears as he tried to drive. She’d offered to drive but he turned her down, saying this was his idea, he’d deal with the unfamiliar city and heinous traffic.

While they waited for their luggage, Mulder had cruised the shops of the concourse, then asked two separate security guards and an on-break ticket agent about hotels and returned soon enough with a destination, directions and the keys to their car.

Scully nearly protested when he told her he’d found a place but when he flashed her his gold credit card and said it was his treat, she stopped worrying. Mulder may have a penchant for flea-infested nightmares when it came to the government’s dime but when he shopped for himself, he usually went classier than Tom and Bob’s Trave-Lodge.

Traffic wasn’t the total nightmare she’d been expecting. It was far worse but given all she had to do was look out the window and enjoy the views, she began relaxing while Mulder quietly wished death upon all those that drove in his way.

Her first grinding halt occured when she saw where they were staying had the hotel name on the front glass doors … and an honest-to-God man, in uniform no less, opening that door for them, greeting them with a hat tilt and a smile. He had to gently nudge her to get her moving through the door.

Her second grinding halt, which caused him to run directly into her, happened when a young man of no more than 20 scurried over and took her bag, including her satchel, as Mulder liked to refer to it and she argued every time that it was a handbag.

Her third and final grinding halt came when the bill slid across the smoother the glass mahogany check-in desk, the fleeting number of $548 meeting her wide-eyed gaze before disappearing discreetly under Mulder’s hand as he easily scrawled his name across the bottom. Whispering in her ear, “I like that I can still surprise you,” he put his hand to her elbow and turned her from the desk to the elevator.

She didn’t even seem to notice the woman standing inside, pushing the button for the 15 floor for them and he leaned over, grinning, “not gonna comment on the elevator lady?”

“Still processing it has more than two floors and needs an elevator.”

His smile continued as he got them in the room, Scully taking a minute to register that he didn’t let her in her own room. About to ask, he beat her to it, “so I got the jacuzzi suite which has a full size pull out sofa as well as a king-size bed. Figured I could take one and you could take the other and we could share the tub.”

There was a hot flash of muscle-twinging anticipation that shot through her before she got things under control, turning to him with a cool exterior that he saw right through, “you should have told me to pack a bathing suit.”

“We’re about two blocks of the main strip. I think we can find you one if need be.” The ‘need be’ hung there between Mulder’s grin and her raised eyebrow. Finally, he started towards her, smile widening, “want to go shopping now or should we jump right in?”

Finally, her face began heating, her cheeks first, then the slow creep of it over her scalp, across her ears and down her neck, “I’m leaning towards the shopping part.”

Coming in closer, “does that mean you could be properly persuaded to lean the other way?”

“Shopping, Mulder. Let’s go shopping.”


She’d been to Chicago before but only driven through, always on her way to somewhere else. Looking around, she ignored the frigid wind blowing through her inadequate coat, given they’d just flown in from L.A., and savored the lights, the people, the sheer envelopment of a city in a holiday that made the human race seem just a little nicer, a little calmer, a little better.

While Mulder grumbled because he got whacked in the back with a stranger’s gift of golf clubs.

Winding her arm through his, she lay her head on his jacket-encased bicep briefly as she smiled, “glad you stayed in Chicago still?”

“I’ll be better once we find you a bathing suit and that guy gets his clubs home in one piece without trying to kill anyone else.” She then felt him pull her a little closer, “cold?”

“Freezing but I don’t mind … not yet anyway.” With a glance upwards at the store they were walking past, he pulled her inside, bought her a hat, scarf, mittens and a thick, cable-knit sweater big enough to go over her light coat, her thin pullover, two small children and a tiny, independent nation. As he stood out of the way by the door, he gestured for her to take off her coat, which she did so, an incredulous look of ‘really?’ plastered on her face as he took it, draping it over his arm. Then, in a smooth, ‘I’m 5 and going to dress you’ motion, he dropped the sweater over her head, tugging down until her face emerged, hair askew, fuzz in her eyes and smile as wide as her cheeks would allow. His grin equaled her as she wrestled her arms into the sleeves, finally speaking again once she was dressed, “kinda big, isn’t it?”

“I bought it for me and am generously letting you borrow it. You can thank me later.” As he did the same with the mittens, hat and scarf, he declared her ready for the cold, “all set?”

Looking from the thick, Irish-knit, cabled, fisherman sweater to her flimsy, folded coat, “pretty sure I can’t get that back on, no matter how hard I try.”

He immediately began scanning the store, skimming over the employees and customers who had been watching with amusement the entire time, “do you see any winter coats?”

Scully, with embarrassment beginning to creep up her cheeks, simply held open the bag from the store, “just put my coat in here. I’ll be fine, I promise. I’ve got enough European sheep wool on me to live through nuclear winter.”

His goofy grin returned and taking her mittened hand in his, he escorted her out of the store, “I’ll expect that back the minute we get home.”

“Sure. Fine. Of course.”

Both knew that wasn’t going to happen but they had a routine so why mess with it.

Soon, they found a shop that, to Scully’s complete surprise, sold bathing suits in December … and fairly cheaply, too. Well, it wouldn’t break her bank account completely but it would bend it well enough. Denying Mulder his request to see the suits modeled, she didn’t even show him which she’d picked and purchased, shooing him to the front of the store to wait. Instead, he headed outside after letting her know, looking in surrounding store windows and ducking in the one next door before returning to his position by the door of the bathing suit place.

The sweater kept her fairly warm, all but when the wind blew its coldest, off the water, making her teeth chatter slightly but not enough to tip Mulder off she wasn’t all toasty. She did, however, stop dead in her tracks when they ambled past a bakery, complete with hot chocolate, cinnamon rolls and cute little table by the window that she bet would make Mulder seem like a giant if she got him to sit down at one. Tugging his sleeve, she pointed inside, the steam collecting at the corners of the front windows and calling to her with the promise of warmth and chocolate and sugar.

Soon, much to her amusement, Mulder was indeed settled at a tiny table with his gigantic cup of cocoa and equally large blueberry Danish, looking, as she had thought previous, like a giant … but a friendly one. He laughed, he joked, he captured both her legs between his on the pretense of warming those skinny, little sticks up with his calves and magical thoughts.

The contact was enough. Magical thoughts would have set her on fire.

They had to leave eventually, however, mostly because the waitress/counter woman kept pointedly looking at them, shooing them with her eyes so she could have their table for the torrent of customers that kept passing through. Bundling back up, they mutually decided to head back towards the hotel, the sun having set and the wind blowing even colder. Scully didn’t balk at the fanciness of the hotel this time, instead talking to the elevator operator and the doorman, laying on easy smiles, friendly banter and perfect Scully charm.

He really should have kissed her in the elevator but he had plans for that for New Years.

If he made it that long.


Mulder, honest to God, always did bring his swimsuit. Not the Speedo but his normal, to the knees blue-green-yellow suit with the drawstring that never stayed tied. Changing first, he came out of the bathroom with his eyes shut, the Jacuzzi faucet filling the room with a rushing noise that he had to talk loudly over to be heard, “you decent?”

“Depends of how much liquor I’ve had and the company I’m keeping.”

Mulder stumbled, opening his eyes a fraction too late and tripping over what had to be the stupidest placed chair in the history of hotels, “I … um, I meant if you were in your suit yet so I could open my eyes but while on the subject, what kind of company am I?”

Safely in her modest, one-piece suit, she gave him a look that would pass mere mortals by but set Mulder’s heart thudding heavily, his eyes unfocusing for a fraction of a second.

And she knew it, too.

She left him standing in the middle of the room while she retrieved towels, then stepping into the hot water, her cold skin hurting for a moment at the drastic temperature change but settling in, she sighed and shut her eyes, the steam curling her hair instantly.

Mulder thought about baseball while he climbed in across from her, turning the water off when it reached a good depth. The sudden silence pushed on his ears, that stuffy cotton feeling he hated forcing him to speak, “so, that was a really good Danish.”

Scully let out a burst of laughter, nearly sliding under the water in the process but saving herself by stretching her feet to the low seat Mulder was on, then, needing better purchase, she settled her feet against his knees. Finally stable, she looked at him, amusement obvious, “yes, that Danish was very good but I prefer the cinnamon rolls myself.”

Giving her a grin, “I just hate that first few seconds when it goes from loud to quiet. Had to fill in the space.”

She squeezed his knees with her toes, “I know. Just having some fun. Although,” reaching over for the control buttons, “you could have just turned on the bubbles.”

The smile grew wider, “I forgot about those. Sitting in a glorified bathtub with you in our room in Chicago pretty much pushed my brain capacity to its limit.”

As the bubbles began to churn, she reclined back once again, head against the side, “I pretty much stopped thinking when you said we were sharing a room but I never forget bubbles.”

Yes, yes, he was never going to sleep tonight.


He did.

Even after she told him to get his ass in the king size bed because the sofa was bound to be lumpy and she had at least five feet of room he could probably squeeze himself into.

Mulder debated.

He lost.

He jumped in beside her.

And nearly bounced her right out the other side. Giggling an uncharacteristically beautiful giggle, “if you want me out of bed, just ask.”

Wiggling to settle in, he looked up at her from his pillow, “I will never, ever ask you to get out of my bed, trust me.”

“Trust no on, Mulder.”

“You don’t trust me?”

Reaching out to poke him in the cheek, “you didn’t let me finish. There’s a tiny asterisk that you didn’t know about. It says, “Trust No One asterisk except Mulder ‘cause he’s the only one I trust … that and my mother … and possibly the Gunmen depending on the day of the week and how many times Frohike looked at me like I’m Sunday dinner dowsed in gravy.”

“That is a very long asterisk.”

“Very tiny writing.”

Her turn to get comfortable, they lay there in silence for a few minutes before Mulder jumped back up, jiggling the bed once again. Eyeing him in the dark as he dug in first one pocket, then the next of his coat, he pulled out a bag, then got back under the covers, handing it to her, “I bought this for you while you were getting your bathing suit.” Sitting up, she automatically reaching for the nightstand light, he stopped her, “it’ll look better in the dark.”

Intrigued, she opened the bag, then the paper wrapped item inside, finding a small, faceted glass heart that Mulder reached over to turn on at the bottom. Suddenly, the softest red-gold light filled the hollow area, sparkling against her face as she stared, a small smile spreading slowly, never reaching full capacity but stopping at just above amazed. He loved that smile and watching her eyes take in the sparkles and glints, he reached over, running his fingers over her cheek, her chin, fingering one particularly stubborn curl at her temple, playing with the ends of her hair until he let his hand fall back to land on her thigh.

His palm on her leg brought her out of her imagination, which pictured him hanging it on her tree for the next 70 years, their kids, grandkids, great-grand kids opening gifts under while it twinkled above in the branches. Seeing it so clearly made her head spin and turning to him, she leaned in, catching him with a kiss so quick yet so firm against his mouth that when she was gone, he never doubted she’d been there.

He didn’t go back for another but sat staring at her while she stared back, her smile going wider than it had been a moment earlier, “I love it. Thank you so much.”

“You’re very welcome.”

After gazing for another few seconds, Scully turned the ornament off, setting in on the table beside her, “g’night, Mulder.”

Mulder knew, instinctively and because he wasn’t a complete idiot, that when she snuggled down and left her right hand extended across the mattress that yes, he was supposed to hold it.

So he did.

And watched her until she fell asleep.

While she watched him.

Snap (Lewis Redman x Reader)

Request: Lewis imagine where you’ve been dating for a while but then you get into a heated argument and he just becomes a sweetheart when he has realized his mistake? Love your imagines btw you are a hero for under appreciated Lewis girls tbh

A/N: You’re too sweet!

Originally posted by merchking

“Hey Lewis?” (Y/n) asked poking her head into the front room that was overflowing with Sidemen branded stuff from bracelets, to sweatshirts, to stickers and chairs.

“What?” Lewis said sharply as he looked down at the purchase receipts. His hair was disheveled and looked unwashed. This was the third day in a row he had worn the torn, black jeans and that white t-shirt.

“Lewis?” (Y/n) said gentler than before. It wasn’t normal for him to snap like that.

“Yes, love?” He said kinder but without apology for his tone from before. “Burgundy SDMN sweatshirt, pink, black and white bracelet, and XIX snapback…” He mumbled to himself before looking around the room for specific large, dark green, plastic tubs that held merch.

“Do you want to go to Manchester to visit my family this weekend?”

“No,” He said immediately, “I can’t. Freya’s out on vacation and I have a crap ton of orders to get through. ‘Scuse me.” Lewis said pushing by (y/n) to get to the other room with more boxes.

“I can help you.”

“No. You can’t.” Lewis said. (Y/n) made a surprised choking noise in the back of her throat.

“Excuse me?” His attitude was rubbing off on her. He was never like this. Having him be angry - especially at her - threw everybody off. Lewis threw the three items into the plastic bag abruptly.

“What do you mean excuse me?”

“What’s with your attitude?’

“What do you mean?”

“You’re snapping at me when I just asked you if you wanted to go to see my family because my mom wanted to spend time with us. My brother is going to be back in the country and I wanted to go see him but since you’re too busy that’s fine!”

“Well I’m sorry but I can’t control the orders. We’ve already closed the shop three times in the past 5 months. If we close it again and leave these orders unsent, people get mad and yell at me!” Lewis stood in front of (y/n) looking past her with crossed arms. (Y/n)’s eyes started prickling with tears.

“I’m offering to help you!”

“Well I don’t need your help!”

“But you’re over here saying ‘oh look at all this stuff I have to do! I can’t go visit my girlfriend’s family because of all this!’” (Y/n) was fighting the lump in her throat.

“Don’t mock me!”

“Listen! I know you’re under a lot of stress! I want to help you. I don’t like seeing you like this.” Her voice finally caught and the tears rolled down her face, “If you really can’t go to Manchester with me, why don’t you just be nice about saying no? There’s no reason for you to snap at me like that. I’m sorry I asked.” Her voice dropped to a whisper as she began to walk away.

Lewis’s shoulders relaxed suddenly. It felt like he was slapped in the face. He was being stupid by denying her help. He realized it too late…

“(Y-y/n)… (y/n) wait.” He said reaching out to grab his girlfriend’s hand. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I want to go to Manchester for as long as you want. You can help me with the orders if you want. I’d really appreciate it honestly… You really don’t have to. It’s not that fun. But we can leave as soon as I finish all the orders sent in by noon. I can get Josh or someone to package everything while we’re gone. I really-”

“Lewis…” (Y/n) said wrapping her boyfriend’s hands in her own, “Lewis it’s okay. It’s okay.”

“No it’s not. I don’t want to lose my temper like that ever again. I’m sorry.” He said pulling (y/n) into a hug. “I want to go to Manchester.”

“Okay. Before we can go we have to finish these orders so we might want to get to work.”

“Oh! That’s right.” Lewis said letting go of (y/n) turning around to face the printer and plastic bags. He began explaining and pointing to different boxes in the room and across the hallway. A smile slowly crept onto (y/n)’s face. “And then over in those tubs are the… what is it? Why are you smiling at me like that?”

“I love you.” She said smiling.

“I love you too.” Lewis said smiling, walking toward her and kissing her on the cheek before wisking her away to show her the second room.

And now for something absolutely no one asked for…

Amy was in her bathroom and getting ready to shower after the day at the beach when she noticed that her shoulders were red, hot, and tender despite her reapplying the sunscreen often.  She sighed to herself and turned the water on colder than she normally would and climbed into the shower to clean the day away.

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