she's just leaning on his shoulder

Ok, but imagine Newt’s creatures shipping Newtina. They get really frustrated when Newt and Tina just kind of dance awkwardly around each other and ignore their feelings, so they take action. An Occamy stretches out and trips Tina so she falls into Newt’s arms. The Swooping Evil swoops down and smacks Newt’s face towards Tina’s. Pickett “falls” off Newt’s shoulder so they both lean down to catch him at the same time and bump into each other. The Niffler makes them get all up in each other’s personal space to admire his collection of shiny things. And Queenie is watching this and rolling her eyes, and one day is finally like “I THINK THE CREATURES ARE TRYING TO TELL YOU SOMETHING.”

Newt and Tina pretend to look awkwardly at each other and flee the situation, but once Queenie’s out of sight, they smirk at each other because they’ve already been on several dates and they’re totally just trolling everyone because they’re cinnamon rolls with mischievous sides even Loki himself would be proud of.

the one where he’s a cookie thief // c.h. college series

I initially started writing this series to be posted alongside of an Ashton blurb series written by @thesaltyspice​. We designed them so that they could be read/stand on their own. 

Anyway, here’s the start of my ‘Calum dates a college girl’ series. Enjoy!

It’s not everyday that Y/N walks into her kitchen after a long, grueling, and just plain shitty day with tense shoulders, a sore back and a snappy temperament. Okay…that’s a lie, it definitely happens more than she cares to admit. But generally, she’s the kind of person to retain a good, upbeat mood even after everything’s gone to shit–but today has not been one of those days.

But, seriously, it’s really not everyday that she comes home with aforementioned tense shoulders and sore back to find a famous, six-foot-something tall Australian leaning against her kitchen counter and stuffing his face with the homemade cookies she was looking forward to. “Who the fuck are you?”

He glances up from his phone, one thick eyebrow raised at her while the front door slams shut. “Seriously?”

The question is simple enough, but for some reason, it only serves to incite Y/N foul mood even more. It’s said like he’s shocked she couldn’t possibly not know who he is.

Of course Y/N already knows who he is. How could she not? Not only is her roommate (Ainsley, for future reference) dating the drummer of their wildly popular band, but it’s not like she lives under a fucking rock. She may be busy–always at work or in class or studying, but of course she knows who Calum Hood is.

Keep reading

The Bet

Sterek, 8K words, Mature (here on AO3)

Cop AU, Fake Relationship, Mutual Pining, Mutual Obliviousness

This is a birthday gift for @cobrilee, one of my best fandom friends (BFFs, if you will). She seemed excited by this idea when I told her about it, and she deserves all the nice things in the world. Tomorrow’s her birthday (the 19th), so be sure to wish her a happy birthday! Happy birthday, love!

“I am totally a better cop than you,” Stiles said, punctuating his words with a little hiccup. He set his glass down on the table with a little more force than necessary and squinted at Derek.

Derek just rolled his eyes, though, and smirked around the edge of his beer bottle. “Oh, yeah?”

“Yes!” Stiles said triumphantly. “Me and Erica are better than you and Boyd.”

Erica leaned into Stiles’ shoulder in solidarity, even as she winked at Boyd. “I can’t say that I disagree.”

“Hmm,” Derek said, tilting his head. “How do you feel about backing up that claim? Like, say, with a bet?”

Stiles hesitated. He was pretty much just bullshitting—Derek was a fucking awesome cop, actually—but he couldn’t pass up a bet. “Like what?”

“Most arrests,” Derek said thoughtfully. “Over the next three months.”

He smirked again, and Stiles gulped. 

“What are the stakes?”

“Well, if I win, you’ll be doing my paperwork for the next six months,” Derek said, grinning, and Stiles groaned. Erica and Boyd both laughed, and Stiles glared at them. He hated paperwork, from the very depths of his soul, and everyone knew it. He’d been known to offer anything, not limited to covering shitty shifts and giving away his first-born, in exchange for other people doing his paperwork.

“Wait, wait,” he said, the gears in his mind working. “Do I get to pick the stakes if I win?”

Derek shrugged and nodded. “Sure. But we have to agree to them now, and I have the right to refuse. I will not do anything that involves me getting naked,” he added, frowning, and Stiles made a show of rolling his eyes and sighing. 

“Okay,” Stiles started. He had a monumentally stupid idea, but well, that was kind of his trademark. At least they usually worked out for him. (Emphasis on usually.) “If I win…you have to go to my ten-year high school reunion next year. As my date.”

Derek laughed, a short, staccato burst that even he seemed startled by, and Stiles grinned, unreasonably proud of himself. Derek was definitely the surly, grumpy type, and even after working together for the past two years, Stiles could probably count on one hand the number of laughs he directly provoked. Even with his constant shitty attempts at flirting.

“Okay,” Derek said, still chuckling. “You got it.”

“You two want in on this?” Stiles asked, elbowing Erica. She and Boyd were smiling bashfully at each other—and probably playing footsie under the table, if Stiles had to guess—but it happened so often that he wasn’t fazed by it. They had started officially dating a while ago, which was why she was Stiles’ partner and Boyd was Derek’s.

“Maybe,” she said with a little hum, before her grin turned lascivious. “But our stakes will be private. And sex-based, obviously.”

Boyd blushed, and Derek rolled his eyes. Stiles mimed gagging as he pushed his stool back. “I’m gonna go get another round.”

“Get me something better than this Budweiser shit,” Derek said, poking him in the side, and Stiles shoved at his shoulder.

“Is that how you treat everyone who buys you drinks?” he asked. “No wonder you never get laid.”

Derek rolled his eyes again—his eyes were practically permanently skyward when he was talking to Stiles—and Stiles smirked at him before heading toward the bar. He pushed through the crowd, waiting for the bartender while he dropped his head in his hands with a sigh.

As if Derek had trouble getting laid. He was the most gorgeous person Stiles had ever seen in his entire life, which, sadly, was only a small part of the huge, embarrassing crush that Stiles had on him. It started as physical, obviously, the very second Stiles laid eyes on him, but it only deepened and got worse as Stiles realized that he was hilarious, smart, sweet, and all those other adjectives that people use to describe people they’re in love with.

He barely refrained from thunking his forehead on the bar, as a punishment for his own stupidity. And now he had three months to arrest more perps than Derek, just so that he could drag him across the country and pretend to be his boyfriend. Which would either end up being the dumbest or most ingenious idea he’d ever had.

His money was on the dumbest.

Read the rest on AO3!

i want the paladins to get closer and closer, both emotionally and physically, as the show goes on. i could get into the ‘emotionally’ part but i’ll spare you of that. i DO wanna talk about the paladins being physically close though

i mean, think about it. there’s only 7 people on the castle, they’re all bound to get touch-starved eventually. so after a while, they just get really touchy-feely

(details under the cut)

Keep reading

clarke griffin tries SO HARD and sometimes it kills me to think about how little slack ANYONE cuts her

but then i remember bellamy blake is there to put his hand on her shoulder and comfort her and support her when she leans into him like that and catch her when she dramatically stumbles into his arms and joke about his trauma if it makes her smile and i just

Originally posted by snowginny

newtina thoughts #2 feat. pickett
  • the first time tina hugs newt, it catches both of them off guard; newt, because he isn’t expecting it, and tina, because something pinches her shoulder rather violently
    • it’s pickett
    • pickett the bowtruckle
    • it doesn’t like anyone touching its human
    • ((”bowtruckles are territorial” she remembers newt telling her))
  • she has to spend time making friends with the bowtruckle then, rather than accepting it as a part of newt that just is
    • of course that is a roaring success
    • tina is nothing if not a go-getter, and soon she has pickett in the palm of her hand
    • like literally, pickett won’t leave tina alone
  • when newt leans in to kiss tina for the first time, he has to physically cage pickett in his hands lest the bowtruckle try anything
    • at this point newt isn’t even sure who pickett would take issue with, himself or tina
    • pickett eventually gets used to it and scuttles about their hair and necks, comfortable
  • when baby scamander is born, pickett finds its home
    • strangers find their fingers bitten and poked if they reach for baby scamander without pickett being restrained by one of the parents
    • like literal plant guardian of the baby, Pickett Bowtruckle
    • baby scamander is not even a day old before their first beast introduction…only at the scamanders

anonymous asked:

"Make me" Ladybug said with a hint of flirtation laced in her voice.

“Make me” Ladybug said with a hint of flirtation in her voice.

Chat grinned as he took the laptop from her and clicked “New Sim”.

She leaned her head on his shoulder as he tried to pick out the best hairstyle, offering her opinion on each.

He moved away so he could study her features as he moved the various sliders, just as she had done while creating the Sim!Chat Noir.

“You do realize I am totally going to make the Sim!us fall in love and have babies.” He said as he was trying to determine the proper base shape for her nose.

“Not if I drown you in a pool first.” She said, laughing.

The Contest

Dean x reader one shot - Dean loves to give you a hard time, and one night he pushes things a little too far…

Word count: 2293

No warnings, unless you consider a wet t-shirt contest tag-worthy (I have no idea where that came from, I think my muse was drunk…)

Flashback in italics

You sit in the booth, Dean’s arm draped over your shoulder as you lean into his chest, your legs up on the seat, beer in hand. Sam slides back into the seat across from you, answering your smile with one of his own.

It’s a good night, things have evened out for a bit, and you’re all feeling relaxed, almost contented. Sam’s new ‘friend’ had just left, saying she had to work the next day. You’re enjoying hanging with the boys, drinking a few beers. You watch the college kids, early twenties at the most, playing the same games you all used to play, trying to hook up, make some kind of connection.

You let out a happy sigh, looking up at Dean as he watches them, too, a kind of distant smile on his face.

“What?” you ask, and he looks down at you, his smile turning a little sheepish.

“I was just remembering the night… well, the night you opened my eyes.” You blush a little, ducking your head in a vain attempt to hide the amusement curving your lips, and he raises an eyebrow at you, letting loose with a stunning grin. You bump him in the belly with your elbow, and Sam stares at you with a curious gleam in his eye.

“Okay, now I want to hear this story.”

You blush a shade darker, and Dean looks at you, asking without asking. “Oh, go ahead. You’re dying to tell it.”

“Okay, Sammy, picture back a few years, a few months after we met Y/N…” You listen as Dean talks, letting your memories wash over you.

Keep reading


Alex Summers x Reader

Based off of this headcanon

A/N: Have more soft Alex Summers bc I’m a sucker for that boy. This is very kind of shitty but I just wanted to make it happen. This is dedicated to @darth-summers bc she’s my gf and Lucas Till is her bf ( also @put-in-writing @kurtwxgners validate me pls)

The credits of the episode cut off and lead directly into the next one as you shift slightly against Alex. He lets go of your hands for a second as you move so you’re tucked more closely against his side, one of his arms slung around your shoulders and your head leaning against the crook of his neck, legs curled under you on the couch. You’ve seen the show before, and you’ve been lulled into a drowsy calm by Alex toying idly with your class ring, brushing his fingertips across your knuckles, twisting the ring on your finger and occasionally tugging it off and slipping it back on, so you’re not really paying attention to anything other than the warm weight of Alex’s arm over your shoulders. You’re tilting your head to press a fond kiss to the underside of his jaw when you feel him slipping your class ring back in the wrong place, so you glance down at your hands and freeze when you see the ring he’s put on your finger.

“I thought it was time you had a new ring,” He says, his voice soft and a little nervous as he slips off the couch, getting down on one knee in front of you. Your right hand flies to your mouth in shock as your brain figures out what’s happening, your left hand clasped gently in both of his as your gaze flickers from his face to the glittering ring on your finger before settling back on Alex, eyes shining as you take in his hopeful, affectionate expression. “(Y/N), you make me better in every possible way. You’re kind and funny and smart and so good to me and I don’t know what I would ever do without you. You’re the best thing in my life and I love you more than anything else, so would you-” He falters slightly, swallowing hard, his eyes locked on yours. Your entire world has narrowed to this exact moment and all you’re aware of is the warm weight of his hands against yours and the look of utter devotion in his eyes. “Will you marry me?”

“Yes,” you breathe, your free hand moving to take his, tangling your fingers together and pulling him up, towards you. “Yes, yes, yes, I love you so much, Alex. Of course I’ll marry you. I’m so in love with you.” Alex’s smile is breathtaking with happiness and you’re pretty sure the expression is mirrored on your own face as his arms go around your waist to pull you in close so he can kiss you.

mercutios-widows  asked:

Hey! Loving the blog, come here everyday to fulfill my addiction😂 I was wondering if the clubbing tag could be updated like when the pack goes dancing or maybe just Derek and stiles? Tbh I'm happy with anything😊 thank yooooou xxx


Of Blondes And Kisses by DarkAlpha67 (1/1 | 2,585 | PG13)

“Oh, looks like Stiles has an admirer.” Erica says with a giggle.

Derek frowns, snapping his head over to where Erica is looking to see Stiles standing with a woman. The blonde is leaning against the counter of the bar, her hair tossed over her shoulders as she stares at Stiles from underneath her eye lashes.


The one where Derek plays the fake boyfriend, only for the whole thing to turn sideways in a matter of seconds.

Unexpected by DarkAlpha67 (6/6 | 11,642 | PG13)

Five times Stiles proved he wasn’t a walking cliche and could take care of himself and the One time someone was there for him.


My first 5+1 fic

(5+1) How Stiles Realized He Was Jealous and Maybe in Love With a Certain Sourwolf by scarlettletterr (1/1 | 3,317 | G)

Stiles is in love with Derek. He’s also a virgin, and ace, but Derek… Is not. Derek is hot, and has a very active sex life. Stiles knows that even if Derek would lower his standards enough to date him, he would never be able to give him what he wants.
So he observes from afar, jealousy overwhelming him every time he sees him with someone else.

Next Contestant by WriteByNight (1/1 | 4,511 | R)

Stiles was gorgeous and charismatic. He was intelligent and sarcastic. He was confident and clumsy. He was a reluctantly good person. He was…

Currently being loomed over by a tall, massive man with tribal tattoos and short dark hair that reeked of stale cigarettes and too much cologne.

Derek’s eyes bled red and he did nothing to stop them. With the flashing of the lights and the amount of alcohol he could smell on the man, Derek knew nobody in the club would notice the color of his eyes. They’d think it was a trick of the flashing neon lights or they’d be too drunk to remember anyway.

Snacks From Up Above by Morgana, Winchesterek (1/1 | 81,142 | NC17)

Stiles works as an IT guy at Hale Enterprises and for the last six months, he’s been called upstairs to fix some kind of computer problem for Derek Hale at least four times a week. And two of those four times, Mr Hale has either hit on him or asked him out. But Stiles knows better than to date his boss and Mr Hale is the absolute worst at flirting.

So learning that Mr Hale is a single father to an adorable four-year-old girl who wants Stiles to attend her dance recital shouldn’t change things at all, right?

And on top of that, a mysterious cup has been lowered down through a hole in the ceiling right above Stiles’ desk, delivering treats directly to him. Stiles declares them to be his Cup Person and they seem to know just what he likes.

What could possibly go wrong?

batfamgirl777  asked:

Could you write a Damian Wayne oneshot where she is a new Bat protege called Mockingjay. Damian has been relatively quiet around her but she has a slight crush on him. Dick insists on a movie night and she sits between Jason and Dami. She starts to fall asleep and leans onto Jay's shoulder. Jay picks her up and sets her in Dami's lap and she cuddles into him. Jay just says something like "Cuddle your girlfriend". And just ... some fluffy movie night stuff and blushing reader ...?

Oh my lord this is too cute thank you!


“Hi, Damian.” You waved as the boy in question walked past you.

“Mockingjay.” He replies without looking at you.

Your shoulders sag and you face your food, not feeling as happy as you had before.

Ever since you became Robin’s partner, he had been distant with you. That of course meant that you developed a crush on him. Because it would’ve been to easy to have a crush on someone who actually said hi once in a while.

“What’s wrong, Y/N?” Dick slides into the chair across from you and looks at you expectantly.

“Huh? Oh nothing. I’m fine.” You don’t realize that your still looking at the door Damian had gone through.

Dick turns and looks through the open door to see the young Wayne sitting engrossed in whatever he was doing.

A smirk found its way onto his face as he turned to look at you again.

“What do you say we skip patrol tonight? I’m sure I can convince Bruce to let us have a movie night instead?”

You look at him skeptically.

“No way he would ever allow that.” You raise an eyebrow.

Dick stands up determinedly. “Challenge accepted.”


“I can’t believe he actually allowed this.” You mutter to yourself as you make your way to the couch.

Dick grins smugly at you as he takes a seat in the couch. You look to the only open spot and have a mini panic attack. It’s in between Jason and Damian.

Jason you could handle. You liked the Red Hood. He was funny and nice to you.

But Damian? The boy who had only ever spoken to you out of necessity? The boy you had feelings for? That one?

You had a feeling it was going to be a long night.

You couldn’t help but feel your cheeks heat up as you took the seat. You didn’t notice that you leaned a bit more towards Jason, or the look of hurt that flitted across the Boy Wonder’s face before it was replaced by a mask of cool indifference.

But Dick noticed.

And he smiled.


It was the fourth movie of the night and you were finding it harder and harder to keep your eyes open.

Usually at this time you were crawling into your warm bed and falling asleep, still in costume.

But sandwiched in between the two boys, both of whom were larger than you, you were pretty warm.

Which was why you didn’t feel weird at all as you drifted off to sleep, your head lolling to the side and landing on Jason’s shoulder.

It took a few minutes for Dick to notice you were asleep, and for him to nudge Jason’s shoulder.

“What do you want?” Jason hissed.
“Y/N is sleeping.”

Dick nodded and looked at Damian suggestively, altering between pointing at you and pointing at Damian.

Jason’s eyes widened in understanding. He smirked and glanced at Damian, who was trying very hard not to notice how comfortable you were on his brother.

He looked at you however when Jason scooped you up and dumped you on his lap.

“Todd what is the meaning of this?” Damian couldn’t hide the faint rings of pink on his cheeks as you burrowed yourself into his chest, eager for warmth.

“Shut up and cuddle your girlfriend.” Jason replied, his eyes returning to the screen.

“She isn’t-she’s not my girlfriend.” Damian spluttered, his cheeks growing red now.

“And who’s fault is that?” Dick interjected. “You’re the one who has been blowing off every attempt at a conversation with her.”

“I’m not, I didn’t, I fail to see how this is your business, Grayson.” Damian replied, trying to maintain his cool facade.

“You made it my business when you started making her sad.” Dick said with an eye roll.

“Don’t be ridiculous. I would have noticed if she had feelings for me.” Damian scoffed, looking down at you longingly.

“Are you blind?” Jason exclaims, making Damian glare as you shift in your sleep.

“Sometimes I wonder if you really are the son of the World’s Greatest Detective.” Dick slams a palm to his forehead.

Suddenly, the a character in the movie slams a door, making you start and wake up.

The three boys freeze and stare at you expectantly.

The smell surrounding you isn’t the same one you fell asleep to. Instead of gunpowder and pine, you smell animal fur and, something else that you can’t quite put a finger on.

You use your hands to push yourself up and turn to look at whatever you were sleeping on.

“Oh my god!” You reel back as you realize what happened, falling off the couch in a tangle of blankets.

“Y/N are you okay?” You hear the smile in his voice and you moan in embarrassment.

“Oh my god.” You whine, staying wrapped up in the blankets. Your cheeks are blazing and it’s starting to get really hot in the blankets. Plus, Dick and Jason are laughing at you.

You feel cool air against your face as someone pulls away the blankets.

“I’m so sorry I didn’t mean to fall asleep on you, even though I thought it was Jason, and-” you stop abruptly when you see him smiling at you.

You’ve never seen him smile like that before. Genuine. He usually only smiles when he’s fighting criminals, or antagonizing someone, but it never looks like this.

“It’s fine. I truly didn’t mind.” He offers a hand to help you up.

You manage to free your hand from the blankets and take his, the butterflies threatening to explode when you make contact.

The blankets fall to the floor when you’re standing, and you blush again.

“Thank you.” You said, before turning towards the stairs. “I should probably get to bed though, so that doesn’t happen again.”

As you walk away your hear the couch shifting and feel a silent argument before a voice breaks that silence.

“I’ll come with you. I should probably rest as well.” Damian calls.

You hear his footsteps hurry to catch up with as you fight to keep your cheeks from turning red again.

As you climb the stairs, you get the feeling that he wants to say something.

“Y/N?” He says before you enter your room.

You turn and look up at him. He leans down and presses as soft kiss to your lips before pulling away, a tinge of pink on his cheeks. It’s nothing compared to the full blown explosion on yours.

“Would you like to accompany me to the movies sometime in the near future ?” He asks you.

“I, um, I” you curse your traitorous mouth when a look of disappointment clouds his face.

“Yes Damian I would love to.” You manage to say, your heart beating faster when he smiles at you again.

“I would love to.” You say again once in the safety of your own room.

Little Salvatore - Kai Parker

Originally posted by psychoticblood

Warnings- Smut

Request(s): I need something along the lines of yn being Stefan and Damon’s little sister and she’s like having sex with Kai or any character actually and they walk in and she’s riding him?? - Anon

fluffy kai smut is a MUST pleaseee!! - Anon



Kai lands on his back on the bed as you shed your body of its last remaining piece of clothing. Kai smirks and sits up, pulling you onto his lap with his large hand on your hips. He leans up and kisses you. You tangle your fingers in his hair as you moan into the kiss.

“You are so beautiful.” Kai sighs. His hands held you against him as you blush.

He kisses just under your jaw and down your neck. You put your hands on his shoulders and gasp quietly as he sucks dark marks into the skin of your neck. One of your hands trails down to his chest and you push slightly, sending him backwards onto the soft comforter.

“I like this Y/n.” Kai smirks. You smile and reach under your hips to line him up before sinking down slowly.

At first, you’re just getting used to the new position and Kai is totally still, being careful not to move incase he hurt you. You put your hands on his chest after a good two minutes of not moving and roll your hips just barely. Your eyes drift closed and you bite your lip.

“Fuck, if you do that I won’t last long.” Kai’s hands grip the sheets at his sides. You lift your hips slowly and then go back down, swiveling your hips when he’s all the way in and it makes both of you moan loudly.

“You feel so good.” You mumble as you start to ride him. You go slow in the beginning but slowly pick up the pace as you get used to it more.

“Kai,” You gasp after a good amount of time has passed and you start getting close. He opens his eyes and looks up at you, “Touch me.”

He does as you say and brings his hand down to press his thumb to your clit, not so hard and not so soft, just the way you need it to be. Kai moans, his thumb speeds up, you start grinding on him as much as you can, chasing your orgasm.

“Fuck, Y/n, fuck!” He curses loudly, voice breaking as his back arches under you. You push his hand away from you and rub your clit as fast as you can to find you release. Your body lock up when it hits you, tilting your head to the ceiling and arching your back in a silent scream.

You fall down beside him and he sits up to throw the condom away but lays back down next you.

“I am scarred.” You nearly scream and rush to throw the blanket over you as Kai put a pillow over his lap and looks towards the door where Damon and Stefan, your older brothers, were standing with shocked and disgusted expressions on their faces.

“Get out!” You scream, grabbing a pillow from behind you and chucking it across the room at them. They both run from the room like it’s on fire and Kai falls onto his back, head landing in your lap as he laughs.

“What’s so funny?” You ask.

“‘I am scarred’. I have finally completed my mission of scarring your older siblings.” You scoff and swat his chest, looking away from him.

“Plus,” He sits up, “You’re funny when you’re angry at them.”

“I hate you.” You turn to look at him. He pecks your lips.

“I love you too, baby.”

He loathed to admit that he at times did feel old. But then she’d do something as simple as lean on his shoulder, and he - at a loss - would feel like an inexperienced teenager all over again.


“He was evil, Mulder. I’m sure about that, without a doubt. But there’s one thing that I’m not sure of.”
“What’s that?”
“Who was at work in me. Or what. What made me… what made me pull the trigger.”
“You mean if it was God?”
“I mean… what if it wasn’t?”

Mulder spins to sit beside her on the bed. When he raises his arm, she hesitates for only a moment before tucking herself against him. His hand comes to rest on her shoulder, his thumb stroking lightly over flannel and taut muscles just covering bone. She melts into his side, sighing as her head tilts to lean against him.

“I think…” he says slowly, “that whatever happened, whether or not there was anything at work here beyond trauma and survival instinct, you did the right thing. And that’s what matters.”

She stays quiet, but her arm snakes around behind him, her hand finding his waist and squeezing. He holds her gently, lets her be the driver of how much contact she’s comfortable with after her harrowing ordeal. The room around them stands in evidence of the violent attack against her, broken glass and splintered wood screaming out a story of a man hell-bent on hurting her, on finishing what he started four years ago. But almost before he even finishes the thought, Mulder realizes something else: the destruction in here also testifies to how hard she fought back.

He raced over here to save her, but she had already saved herself.

“Come on, Dana,” he whispers. “Let’s get out of here.”

He feels her nod against him, and she takes another deep breath before pulling away. He stands along with her, his hand moving out of habit toward her lower back but stopping just short of touching her, hovering there instead. When she steps forward toward the dresser, he makes his way carefully behind her to walk over to the closet. He finds a medium-sized suitcase and sets it down on the bed; it goes without saying that she will stay with him for at least a few days. They work in quiet concert as she pulls clothes out of drawers and hands them over for him to pack.

He watches her while trying not to let her catch him at it. Outwardly, she appears calm, her movements methodical and unhurried. It is only because he knows her as well as he does that he can see the tension in her posture, the anxiety at war with bone-deep exhaustion. It may well be for the best that she’s going on 24 hours without sleep; fatigue has a way of dulling the edges of pain, of drawing a gauzy film over emotions that might otherwise sting so much more sharply.

He hasn’t slept either, of course. He’s been running on adrenaline and energy reserves born of necessity, the kind that only spring into being when it’s life or death. He will crash just as hard as she does, when all of this is over.

“This is enough.” She meets his eyes only briefly over a handful of socks, but in them he can see her thoughts still spinning over gods and devils.

He wants to tell her it will all be okay. To wrap her in his arms and tell her not to worry. The very notion of anything evil at work in Dana Katherine Scully is utterly inconceivable. But it will only sound like empty platitudes coming from him, the believer in everything but this.

So he buries the impulse and nods, zipping the suitcase and picking it up. He gestures toward the bedroom door, to let her lead the way out, but she shakes her head.

“I want to change out of these pajamas. I’ll be right out.”

He nods again. “Okay. I’ll make sure the officers don’t need anything else from us, and we can leave as soon as you’re ready.”


Keep reading

Accidents Happen

“I don’t even know how it happened Dean. It just kinda…did.”

"Wait, wait,wait.So you’re telling me” Dean leaned against the kitchen sideboard and chuckled “Y/N slipped and fell after a hunt and you decided that’s a good time to kiss her?

"Umm I guess so… We were both just really buzzed after a job well done and she tripped over her own damn feet so I caught her and we ended up face to face and yeah…” the tallest Winchester awkwardly smiled and shrugged

“You’re so weird, bro.” Dean rested his hand on his brothers shoulder, proud as hell. “I’m glad you finally did it at least, about damn time. So Y/N took it well then I take it”

“She’s.. uhh..She’s in my room waiting for me” Sam rubbed his hand along the back of his neck and beamed toward the floor, in a poor attempt to hide his happiness.

“What? Well why the hell are you in here, go Sammy! God knows you’ve made her wait long enough” Dean shoved his brother playfully toward the doorway

“I was just getting water, I think we’re gonna be in for a long night” his chuffed smile never fading

“Okay, never say that again. I don’t want to hear about my baby brother violating one of my best friends.” He lobbed a water bottle towards Sam, ushering him out of the room 

“Just go already”

Sam half sprinted out of the kitchen toward the bedroom

Jonathon leaning back on the kitchen counter with a cup of tea in one hand like the cool 80s kid that he is, fondly watching Will drawing at the table, eleven watching silently over his shoulder.

Joyce sloping in, still in her pyjamas with sleep-messy hair, smiling when Jonathon hands her a mug of coffee. She leans into Jonathon’s side when she spots Will and El, grin just as wide as his.

Through Joyce’s open door, Hopper can be seen lying on his stomach on the bed, covers bundled around his waist as he snores, not getting up for at least 8 more hours.

On The Importance of Cunnilingus (II)

Back by popular demand.  Part I is here, and before you yell at me, yes I know what the title of this ficlet series is so yes there will be a part III.

Bellamy climbed the ladder to the third floor of the dropship and hoisted himself through.  Clarke had her back to him at the table, sorting out the leaves for wound packing.  “I think we need more,” she said over her shoulder, her hands deftly plucking out heart shaped leaves from the pile.  “And we need someone to teach them how to identify leaves again, because half of these are useless.”

“Judging by your rousing success at getting them to identify the clit the other night, that should be your job,” he teased.  

“Clits are easy.  Finding the right tree is hard,” Clarke deadpanned.  He leaned his hip against the table and she kept sorting.  “What made you decide to do that?  Just suddenly inspired to improve oral sex ratio around here?” she asked.

“Something like that,” he said mildly.  He hadn’t seen Finn around her much lately, and he kept telling himself not to read too much into it.  But if she wanted to flirt, he’d flirt.  They’d earned a little fun, after all.

“Well, your methods left a little to be desired, but as a person with a clit the impulse is appreciated.”  She was smiling as she pulled a stack of clean rags forward.  “From what I’ve heard, orgasm equality is skyrocketing in camp now.”

“And you?” he asked, dropping his voice just slightly.

“What about me?” she asked distractedly.  She flipped through the stack of rags again as if counting, and then stopped when she caught his meaning.  “I’m…doing okay.”

“Just okay?” he asked, and waited.  Clarke kept her eyes down at first, and he wondered if he’d crossed a line.  But then she looked up, challenge and satisfaction warring on her face, and he knew they were on the same page.

“I could do with a few.”

“A few?  Someone’s getting greedy,” he clucked, and reached out to touch her jaw.  He meant for it to be just a flirtatious tap, but then he found himself brushing his thumb across her full lower lip.  Seduction was easy, a dance with familiar steps, but for some reason his heart was pounding now.

Clarke moved first.  One second she was standing next to him, his hand curving along her neck, and the next she was yanking his head down to kiss her and spinning them around so he was pinned between her hips and the table.  It was aggressive and sweet at the same time, and a tiny part of him pointed out that he was on dangerous territory.  But Clarke’s tongue was easing alongside his and he decided he didn’t care, because her hair was soft and thick and he wanted to find out what she sounded like when she moaned his name.

But she had other plans, as he discovered when she reached down and palmed him through his jeans.  “So did you mean what you said about being talkative?” she purred into his ear.  Her breath was hot and sent a shiver through him, and he had to take her face in his hands and kiss her hard to get control of the situation again.

“That was more about you than me,” he replied, and Clarke pulled away to raise an eyebrow.  

“It was about me?”

“You are the one with your hand on my dick,” he countered, because it’s always about you was on the tip of his tongue and he couldn’t let himself to say that.

Clarke grinned and popped the button on his jeans.  “Then I think it’s time to find out.”  She moved to kneel but he drew her back up to kiss her again, because he couldn’t get enough.  “Weren’t you going on about reciprocity before?” she teased.  “Stop worrying and enjoy yourself.  I’ll get my turn.”

“You’re goddamn right you will,” he growled, and then she was shoving his pants and boxers down to his knees and dropping between his legs.  

But that was the last coherent thing he managed to say.  She wrapped her hand around the base of his dick and flickered her tongue just underneath the tip, and he had to grab the edge of the table to keep his knees from buckling.  Her mouth was hot and wet, and his hand fluttered down to tuck back a lock of her hair. The sight of her on her knees, her blue eyes looking up at him from under her lashes while her lips encircled his cock, almost undid him completely. He had to close his eyes, scrabbling for a semblance of control.

But control was pointless, because this was Clarke.  He wanted nothing more than to spend the rest of the day up here, letting her touch him however she wanted, having her tell him how to touch her.  It was intoxicating and would have been terrifying if he was capable of thinking, but her tongue was fluttering again and the pressure that had been building at the base of his spine since she kissed him was coming unspooled all at once.  He might have groaned her name, or maybe he just wanted to, but either way she gave him another hard suck and his cock twitched again before she let up.

This kiss was even more desperate than before and Bellamy could still taste himself on her tongue, salt and dark.  He gave up all pretense at control and lost himself in her, but then the trap door started to creak open.

“Occupied!” he called out in a strangled voice, and the door dropped shut with a clang.  

Maybe it was his imagination, but he could have sworn he heard Miller sigh before yelling back, “Next time lock the goddamn door.”

Clarke looked back at him— she’d whirled around and thrown her arms out in what was both a futile and adorable attempt to protect his honor— with a rueful smile.  He redid his pants and tried to read her expression.  “The kids’ll be noticing we’re gone,” she said eventually.  

Bellamy knew a dismissal when he heard one, but he also heard the promise in her voice.  So he made himself smirk playfully and pressed one last kiss to her lips.  “To be continued, princess.”

“I’ll be back soon,” Peggy said as she pocketed her phone. She leaned on the desk for a moment.
“Hurry back, you dork,” Lafayette laughed.
“Yeah yeah,” she muttered, rolling her eyes. She quickly leaned forward and kissed Lafayette. It was their first kiss and it felt amazing. Once it was over, she was waving a goodbye and racing out of the hospital.

“How bad is the patient?” Lafayette asked as he caught up to Alexander. He didn’t know who it was, but he was just very curious.
Alexander turned around and looked at Lafayette, a look of pity and sorrow on his face. He grabbed the frenchman’s shoulders and said, “It’s Peggy.”
Lafayette felt his breath catch in his chest. “H– how bad is she?” he stuttered out.
Alexander’s hold on Lafayette’s shoulders grew tighter. “I’m so sorry, Lafayette,” was all Alex could get out.

Peggy’s heart monitor beeped rhythmically, but she was paling from blood loss.
“Oh Peggy,” Lafayette whispered as he walked past John who was at the door. He got to her bedside and sat on the floor, arms on the bed. He eventually dozed off, still sitting there.

When he woke, he woke to a heart monitor flatlining. His head snapped up and when he saw Peggy’s face and then the flatlined heart monitor, he completely broke. He began sobbing.
John ran in and when he saw the flatline, he frowned and went to Lafayette quickly. He took him into his arms, holding him tightly. “I’m sorry, Laf. I’m so sorry,” he whispered, rubbing Lafayette’s back.
When Lafayette ran out of tears to cry, he just sat there, breathing heavily. He turned his head against John’s chest, looking at Peggy.
Lafayette whispered, “I love you,” before pulling his face back into his knees. His head and chest hurt and he just held his knees tighter.

“I love you, Peggy…”

@midnigtartist, here’s some sad Leggy and short story I came up with to go along for the firefighter/doctor AU.


Damon x Reader

“This is nice.” You admitted to Stefan who chuckled.


“Yeah, the urm… teen crowd gets a little old pretty quick.” Stefan smiled and flicked at one of the lights that lit the bridge.


“I dunno, the Caroline girl… Pretty cute Stef.” You teased making him double over and snort.

“She’s far from my type.” He chuckled and glanced backwards to see Elena stood with Bonnie both looking away when they met his gaze.

“She likes you.” you mumble as you link arms with your best friend and lean your head on his shoulder.

The two of you continued to talk quietly, neither noticing the dark haired vampire watching the two of you huddled together in the seemingly picturesque way.

Keep reading

It Has Always Been Forever - Part 18

Previous Chapters :)

Part 18.

 Jamie finished getting dressed, catching Claire’s reflection in the mirror watching him from her perch on the edge of the bed. Her eyes roaming his still bare upper half, his body still warm from his shower. She was already dressed and ready to leave for her shift at the hospital, but spared a few minutes to take in the view.

“What is it, ghraidh?” Jamie asked, seeing her sigh wistfully. She caught his eye in the mirror, holding it for moment. Then suddenly got up and came up behind him, her arms coming round his waist and resting her chin on his shoulder - just barely reaching - as she stood on tiptoes. Her fingers idly ran over the bumps of his toned stomach. He leaned back into her.

“I want you to have a great time tonight,” she said, placing a kiss on his neck. “Its just the thought of what the lads might have in mind.” She let out a breath of a laugh and put her forehead between shoulder blades, standing back on the balls of her feet, tightening her hold. His fresh scent filled her senses and the slight dampness of his skin made her skin tingle.

“Ye ken its just drinks, aye? Maybe watch the rugby at the pub too,” he assured her, entwining his fingers with hers.

“I ken what the lads said. Just…” she freed her hand from his, and still holding him tightly to her, unbuttoned his jeans and slipped her hand into his boxers. He inhaled sharply. “Remember who this belongs to when they’re paying for lap dances for you. Aye?” She tugged.

“Aye. I’m no’ likely to forget that in life, Sassenach. I ken well who I belong to,” he said, voice deep and husky, closing his eyes at her delicate touch, letting his head fall back against hers.

Claire stroked him for a few minutes - both getting lost in the rhythm, swaying slightly with it, but were interrupted by the ungainly crashing currently ascending the stairs.

“Damn…” they said in unison. Claire pressed her lips to his back once more, letting her lips and hand linger on his goosebumped skin, till a persistent knocking began that threatened to bring the building down around them. With one final, languid stroke, her hand reluctantly pulled away and she stepped back.

“Finish getting… dressed. I’ll let them in - before they break the door down.” She gave his bottom a firm squeeze, and with a murmured apology, rushed to let the barbarians in.

Jamie heard her footsteps recede, followed soon after by a deafening and hearty chorus of “EHHH!!!” as she opened the door. His entire body was thrumming, and with Claire’s touch still pulsing through him, he took a few minutes for himself, before joining the lads.


Claire waited the few minutes it took before Jamie joined them, his mates sufficiently comfortable with her to not hold back in their bawdy humor. Angus and Rupert looked determined, but Murtagh gave her a reassuring smile, nothing too drastic was going to happen while he was around - she hoped. And Joe… Well Joe was Joe and he fit right in with them, even masterfully taking the thorough chafing Angus was giving him about being Maid of Honor.

Jamie walked in the room looking a little flushed and caught Claire’s eye.

You’re good? Claire’s look asked, anxiously.

He solemnly blinked back. Perfect, it said.

“Alright, well, I’ll leave you lads to it then,” she said primly, grabbing her bag and coat and headed for the door. Before she opened it though, she felt Jamie’s hand on the small of her back. She turned and kissed him, eliciting a wave of wolf whistles from the guys - cutting them short.

As Claire stepped out into the hallway - just as Ian arrived, breathless, Jamie’s voice came clear through the door. “Ye can feck off, the lot o’ ye!”


The night had gotten off with a bang - literally. Murtagh’s radiator overheated spectacularly when they’d found themselves stuck in a wee traffic jam, blowing the cap clean off denting the rickety pickup’s bonnet from the inside, causing all passengers to unceremoniously flee the hastily smoking automobile.

“Aye,” Murtagh said, rubbing his neck, looking critically at his car and turning the radiator cap over in his hand. “I’ve been meaning to change the cap for a while now. It doesna close all that well anymore.”

“‘Change the cap’. Ye need a new bloody car, is what ye need. That bastard’s a bloody deathtrap!” Jamie exclaimed, shaking with reaction, his anger somewhat irrationally rising. He’d never been comfortable in cars ever since his accident, only feeling remotely secure when he was behind the wheel. He never let it show, if he could help it, though.

“Perhaps it’s for the best? If we’re all planning on having a few drinks tonight, a cab’s gonna be the best means of transport, if you ask me,” Joe put in, discreetly checking his racing pulse.

“Aye, you’re right, Joe. Lets just get this piece of shite to the side of the road first, then we can make our way to the pub,” Jamie said, keen to walk off his nerves.

They pushed the car for a while, looking for a suitable place to leave it, then footed the rest of the way to the pub, in ever raucous form. Everyone had an opinion what Murtagh could do with his car. None of them all that helpful.

They got to the pub, buzzing with energy and immediately ordered a round of drinks. They’d missed the first twenty minutes if the rugby match - Scotland a try ahead against Australia - which bugged Jamie to miss. They didn’t bother pacing themselves, only Joe seemed cognizant of how much everyone was drinking. The more they drank, Jamie noted, the louder they always became. Worse still when Scotland started losing in the second half.

The pub had been full of both boisterous Scottish and Australian fans, neither shy of stressing their opinions on the game. And when the match ended 31-10 to Australia, and Angus having reached a point in his cups where his mental filter be damned (if ever the bugger had one!), the inevitable happened.

“Wankers!” he bellowed. “Can’t win withou’ the help from the feckin’ ref, can ye, ye bunch of soddin’ arse-pinchers!” he declaimed, much to the group’s annoyance.

“Sit yer bloody arse down, ye wee gomerel!” Murtagh hissed, trying to grab the beer bottle from his hand and sit him down - Angus determinedly trying to climb onto his chair, for whatever reason. Angus fought him off, still spewing profanities at a group of burly looking Aussie fans, celebrating the win, a growing tension definitely creeping into their festivities. That was always Angus’ problem - he always spoke like he was 8 feet tall, even without drink fueling his passion.

Jamie exchanged looks with the other lads, and by silent agreement, they knew they’d have to soon forcibly carry Angus out before he started yet another pub brawl. And just as they came to this realization, a bottle wheezed past Jamie’s ear. Before he could even react, the pub exploded.

Angus disappeared under a pile of yellow and green. Rupert began peeling bodies off his friend, screeching in Gaelic. Jamie and Ian exchanged exasperated looks, before diving in to help their mates. Murtagh, seeing Joe about to join in, put a hand on his shoulder and grinning said, “‘Do nay harm,’ is it no’?” Handed his coat to Joe, took his time neatly folding up his sleeves as he walked into the melee.

Angus’ roars could be heard beneath the heap, as the sound of howls, shattering glass and breaking bar stools filled the air. Rupert straightened up abruptly, having caught an elbow just above his right eye, cutting him, raised his head and howled “Wooo! Bugger!” and flung himself back in.

By now both sets of fans had begun bashing each other. Joe couldn’t tell where any of his party were, neither could he tell whether the screams were out of anger or delight. Both, definitely both. He noticed the police casually walk into the pub, take in the scene, then, with a dexterity born of long experience, he thought, they calmly began breaking up the brawlers.


“Angus,” said one of the police officers, looking down at him as he staunched his bleeding nose with a napkin. From the tone of his voice, it wasn’t the first time - nor would it be the last - they’d found themselves in this situation.

“Taran,” Angus replied, sheepishly. They all sat on the sidewalk outside the pub, each nursing his own bruises.

“Jenny’s going to kill me,” Ian was saying, dejectedly.

“Did ye see how that strumpet in the red top was looking at me!” grinned Rupert, craning his neck back to see if she was still in the pub.

“Mmmph!” Murtagh grunted.

“How are we not getting arrested right now?” Joe anxiously asked looking down the line of seated drunken brawlers.

“It isna the first time we’ve found ourselves sitting here. Bloody Angus! Christ, Claire’s going to kill me,” Jamie said, rubbing a knot on his forehead gingerly.

After the usual lecture from the police, and an umpteenth warning, the police left the lads to their own devices, with the express instruction of calling it a night.

“Guess we’re done for the night, then,” Joe said, he couldn’t keep the tone of relief from his voice.

“Och!” Rupert laughed. “Not by a long shot!” he said helping Angus to his feet. Seeing the mutinous looks on the guys faces, ready to indeed call it a night, he added, “Look lads, it’s still early, we’re still whole…ish. It’s Jamie’s stag night! I know where we can go for good food, and where Angus won’t get himself into any trouble,” he coaxed.

With the promise of food thus made, they, rather reluctantly, agreed, trudging after Rupert as he led the way. As it turned out, there wasn’t a place in Scotland where Angus couldn’t get himself into trouble.


Claire leisurely did her rounds. It’d been a quiet and slow night, her thoughts drifting now and then to Jamie and what buffoonery him and his mates were up to. She flitted through wards, checking on patients, then made her way to the ER to see if any extra hands were required. She heard them before seeing them - rowdy laughter breaking the hush that had enwrapped the hospital all night. As she rounded the corner, her suspicions were verified when she saw them huddled round a bed clearly making jokes about their bedridden mate; Jamie’s broad back shook with laughter, Joe holding a chart in his hand with Ian peering over his shoulder ‘helping’ fill in the forms, Murtagh sitting pensively at bedside, and Rupert practically doubled over. They all looking thoroughly sauced.

Joe looked up, seeing her headed toward them, murmured something to Jamie who turned, beaming. Then as they all caught sight of her, they bellowed “EEEHHHH!!!” deafeningly at her.

“What’s all this, then?” she asked coming level with them. Her eyes immediately taking in Jamie’s appearance. He seemed in good order, but for the massive bump on his forehead. Looking round, everyone in fact seemed to be scraped and bruised to some extent. Her eyes finally coming to rest on Angus, lying strewn in the bed, beard matted with blood, cloth held up to his swollen mouth. “God, do I even want to know?”

This only elicited more laughter and a harsh look from the matron on duty to keep it down.

Between fits of mirth they told her; about the match and pub fight, and stern warning from the police. “All this happened in a pub brawl?” she asked nodding toward their various injuries.

“This,” Jamie said, touching his forehead, “aye. But Angus-ss-ss,” he couldn’t finish. It was infectious and even though she still didn’t know what was the cause of it, she quivered with amusement.

Joe, having recovered first, continued the story. After they’d left the pub, Rupert had taken them for dinner, somewhere he knew Angus wouldn’t cause anymore trouble - or so they thought.

“A brothel?!” Claire said, incredulous.

“Nay, no’ a bawdy house! A strip club,” Rupert defended, plumping himself on a stool. “They serve a brilliant dinner menu, and well, I thought the girls would be a fair distraction, ye ken. For Angus,” he added at the last second.

“For Angus, indeed,” she said, voice dripping with cynicism, giving Jamie the side-eye.

“To be fair, the dinner was really good,” Jamie put in, earnestly.

“While we ate, Angus went to have a little watch, as it were,” Ian continued, delicately. “And well… We heard a wee stramash start up and as we went to see what was to do…”

“Dorcas kicked his teeth in - literally!” Rupert finished, to gales of hilarity. Looking over at the bed, Angus gave her a gaping, brilliantly toothless grin from ear to ear - his freshly missing bottom teeth matching the gap of his missing front teeth - his lip split as he smiled, a trickle of blood running into his beard. He’d apparently gotten far too familiar for her liking, to which she drove her heel into his face.

“That’ll teach you to get too handsy!” Claire admonished, barely keeping her own laughter at bay.

“I think I thwallowed one!” he informed her, happily.