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esmealux · 3 years

Note

Hi there! For the two-part drabble, may I request Deckerstar in situation 13 (someone does something stupid) with sentence 6 ("Do I love you? Yes. Do I like you? That's still up for debate.") Thank you, and I've really really been enjoying your the updates on your Planning a Hell of a Wedding fic!

Hey! It took me two months (including more than one month of writing) but I've now finally finished your prompt. Another anon had requested 25 (being somewhere you're not supposed to) + 6 and dear @my-crazy-awesome-sox had requested 26 (a very cheesy date) + 6, so I've merged all your prompts into one 7K+ long 'drabble'. Hope you don't mind!

And I'm glad you like the updates on PHW! I'll try to write some more now that I've finished this.

Hope you like this!

Also, an immense special thanks to @my-crazy-awesome-sox for helping me with this fic. She truly has been a godsend, and a lot of the wording (especially in the later parts) is kindly and almost directly borrowed from her mind. Thank you again, babe!

Also thanks to @lightbringer-666 for assisting me with some French. If all the French isn't perfect, it's because I also googled my way to a lot of it. Apologies in advance (and please do let me know if there's anything I should change!)

Someone does something stupid + being somehwere you're not supposed to + a very cheesy date + 'Do I love you? Yes. Do I like you? That's still up for debate.'

Rated M. Post 5B - contains spoilers!

Read on AO3 (includes list with English translations)

It’s ridiculous, really. The butterflies fluttering in her stomach like she’s a schoolgirl waiting for her prom date. It’s not even their first date. It’s not even their second. The thing is, between becoming God and Consultant, revising a few laws of the cosmos, fixing some bugs in humanity, bringing Dan to Heaven, and going to therapy, she and Lucifer haven’t had much time for, well, each other. At least not in ways that didn’t involve discussions about the redesign of the afterworld and how to sate world hunger. So yes, she is a little giddy with excitement at the thought of having a whole evening to themselves—no celestial craziness. Just the two of them and a bottle of the restaurant’s finest.

If Lucifer would just show up.

She checks her phone. 06:14. Unlike last time she anxiously waited for him in a restaurant, there’s a text.

Running a bit late. Please forgive me. Can’t wait to see you ❤

And one more.

Sorry. Can’t wait to see you naked*

Chloe shakes her head, a stupid smile spreading across her face. She resists typing back a flirty reply—he’ll be with her in a minute, and she is nota schoolgirl—and puts her phone back in her clutch. Hands trembling a little, she smooths out invisible creases in the dress he’s bought her. It’s short and tight, of course, but perfectly so. Reaching mid-thigh, with a small slit revealing a bit more of her left thigh. Black, unsurprisingly; he still hasn’t gotten over how delectable she looked in the LBD she wore on their last ‘date’. And this one makes her legs look even longer, which is undoubtedly the primary reason Lucifer picked it. Still, it isn’t skimpy. He could have opted for a deep neckline and cold shoulders—she almost expected him to when he said he’d bought her a dress—but he didn’t. Instead, the short and skin-tight skirt is perfectly balanced with a high neck and long bell sleeves that are cut open just above her joints, making the soft fabric flow around her bare underarms. She likes it—would probably have bought it herself if it weren’t crazy expensive. Likes how it makes her feel both sexy and classy and most of all comfortable, likes that he knows her so well.

She fidgets with her earring and traces the rim of her empty wine glass with her fingertip, watching people as much as she can from their semi-private corner. She spots an Oscar-winning film director, a retired NFL player, that pop star Lucifer pretends to hate, and just how expensive isthis place?

She’s immediately distracted by the shift in the air and the sound of Italian loafers approaching her.

‘My me, Detective!’

His brown eyes roam her figure as she stands to kiss him. Their lips meet in a soft peck that could easily have turned into more if Lucifer hadn’t pulled away to look her up and down.

‘You look like a goddess.’

Chloe snorts and chuckles, not yet used to the title he insists is hers if she’ll have it. She puts a hand on his chest, gazing up at him with a smile.

‘You don’t look too bad yourself.’

He hums and leans in for another kiss, but something comes between them this time. They both look down—at a dozen red roses.

‘Those for me?’ she asks, warmth spreading in her chest.

Lucifer hands her the bouquet with a nod and that soft smile she loves more than anything. He pulls out her chair, a gentle hand on her shoulder as she sits down, and sits down himself.

There’s a card nestled between the velvet petals: ‘For the Detective & Consultant’, her old and new moniker scribbled side by side in his annoyingly elegant handwriting. The latter nickname, however, is written in smaller, cramped letters—an afterthought. She smiles.

She turns the card, expecting to find a dirty, eye-roll-deserving comment on the back. But there’s no lewd joke or naughty promise.

It simply says, ‘I love you.’

Her heart swells, filling her chest till it aches. It’s all so new still. Not the love between them, but how it’s uninhibited now. It’s not like they don’t have their obstacles—just yesterday they had a fight—but there’s no doubt anymore, no voices telling them some dreams simply cannot be. They might have a whole universe to deal with, but for the first time ever, things between them are easy. No words are left unsaid. No feelings are squashed. No time is wasted. Every day is spent wrapped in each other’s love. Finally.

‘I love you too,’ she tells him, and he lights up, amazed. Confident. Their hands find each other on the table, fingers intertwining.

A waiter comes by with two menu cards and a vase for the flowers. Chloe reads through the menu carefully, pretending to know what kind of food hides behind the fancy French names. Lucifer sees right through her, sighs, and orders some hors d’œuvres, two of something she couldn’t pronounce if she tried, and a bottle of red.

‘So, were you stuck in traffic, or…?’ Chloe asks him with a glint in her eye as the waiter pours her a generous glass of wine. The celestial being with the supernatural metabolism can drive home.

The being in question looks confused for a moment before he answers, ‘Ah, no. I’m sorry I kept you waiting.’ For a brief second, he looks at her as if he’s apologising for more than tonight, but she strokes his knuckles and smiles at him, you’re here now, and he moves on to explain himself. ‘I just couldn’t find this bloody suit. Only when I’d ransacked the house did I realise it was still at the penthouse, so I had to make a detour.’

He is a little excused; so many things are impossible to find right now, with more or less unpacked boxes spread out between her apartment, Lux, and their new home. In hindsight, moving in together while taking over the almighty family business probably wasn’t the best idea, but they’ll get settled soon enough. Besides, right now, what’s important is that Lucifer was late because of a wardrobe crisis, and she will not let that slide.

‘You couldn’t just wear one of your three hundred other suits?’

A flicker of hurt and sheepishness flashes across Lucifer’s face.

‘Well, this one is special.’

Chloe takes in his suit: the navy jacket, the matching waistcoat, the royal blue shirt.

‘Oh.’

He smirks at her as heat creeps up her cheeks (so much for not being a schoolgirl).

‘You remember?’

She does. Of course, she does. She remembers vividly—how shocked he’d been at first, how new and soft his lips had felt against hers. How they’d held onto each other until the sun was setting and she really did have to go home and feed Maze and Trixie.

She also remembers how she, later, behind closed lids, had ripped off the shirt and waistcoat in desperate need. How it’d earned her a husky chuckle and a breathy ‘D’tective!’, and the sinful Heaven that was his hot and open mouth.

‘You okay, darling?’ Lucifer looks at her, his expression somewhere between concerned and amused. His thumb brushes the back of her hand.

Chloe takes a sip of wine and clears her throat. Adjusts her necklace.

‘Yeah, just, you know. Reminiscing.’

He studies her flushed face for a second before his curious smile spreads into a full-blown Cheshire grin.

‘You had a wet dream about me, didn’t you?! After our first kiss?’

Chloe glares at him. ‘Say it a little louder for the people in the back, will ya?’ He opens his mouth, and she immediately feels the need to clarify, ‘Do not say it a little louder for the people in the back.’

His smile doesn’t falter. ‘I’m just ecstatic to know our first kiss left you all hot and bothered. I mean, not that I’m surprised.’ He brings his wine glass to his lips and lets go of her hand to gesture down himself.

Chloe rolls her eyes. ‘Yeah, like you didn’t go home and wanked yourself blind that night.’

He laughs, surprised by her bluntness, and shamelessly answers, ‘Why, of course I did. That night, other nights. Before and after that kiss. This morning. You serve as quite the spank bank, my dear.’

She definitely doesn’t blush at that. But she does glance down at his waistcoat, at the soft skin and hard muscles she knows hide beneath it. She gives him a slow and dirty smirk, appreciative.

‘You too, baby.’

Lucifer raises an eyebrow, his eyes darkening. Much to Chloe’s satisfaction, his neck and cheeks redden a little. Then he gives her a lopsided grin, smug and impressed.

‘Pray tell, Detective.’ His eyes glide down her face, her chest, her stomach, and slowly back up again.

In another time, she would have given him a stern look and told him it was none of his business, but she doesn’t. She also doesn’t tell him about lonely nights and long showers and crying his name into her pillow when they were still just friends. Instead, she leans across the table and half-whispers—

‘If you behave yourself tonight, I might show you.’

He gulps. Squirms a little in his seat, and—when he’s regained his composure and quite indiscreetly adjusted himself under the table—leans forward till there’s only mere inches between their faces.

‘Is that a promise?’ His voice is low and husky, his breath hot against her face. His eyes drop to her lips.

‘Pardon, monsieur, mais l’entrée est prête.’

They lean back in their seats and turn to the poor, young waiter, who’s balancing two seemingly heavy plates, a carafe of water, and a basket of crusty bread in his arms.

‘Lovely!’ Lucifer’s eyes follow the food as the waiter puts it down in front of them. ‘Merci beaucoup, Olivier.’

Olivier smiles at Lucifer, shy but with a look in his eyes Chloe knows all too well. She doesn’t blame him.

‘Ça va?’ Lucifer asks, his voice lined with genuine fondness.

Olivier nods. ‘Oui, ça va. Et toi?’

Lucifer looks to Chloe, beaming. He takes her hand on the table and interlocks their fingers again.

‘Tout va très bien,’ he answers, looking back up at Olivier with a dazzling smile.

Olivier’s eyes drop to their hands and, probably, to the ring, white and pearlescent, on Chloe’s third finger. His lips tug up at the corner.

‘Je peux voir ça. Félicitations!’ Before Lucifer can respond to that, whatever it means, Olivier gestures towards their food. ‘Et bon appétit.’

Lucifer replies with a friendly ‘merci’ and calls out something like ‘Salue ton père de ma part!’ as Olivier walks off.

Chloe stares at Lucifer, twirling the smashed bullet around her neck between her fingers.

‘What?’ he asks, curious.

She tilts her head, smiling. ‘French suits you.’

He smiles back, lasciviously. ‘Yeah?’

‘Mm-hm.’

The look he gives her leaves no doubt that, sooner or later, he’ll be whispering foreign phrases against her skin.

But right now, they have other appetites to sate. They dig into the first course, and the (assumedly) insanely high prices suddenly make sense, because it is frigging good. The main course is even more delicious—divine, actually, to the point where Chloe has to ask Lucifer if he accidentally spiked the food with a blessing or two. He assures her it’s all Olivier’s father, no holiness involved, apart from Chef Beaumont’s heavenly cœeur de filet de bœuf. Chloe moans in agreement, savouring every bite.

He watches her with a smile, jokingly apologising for not serving her grilled cheese, and she makes a bad joke about this date being cheesy enough as it is. Because it is cheesy. Him buying her a dress, bringing her red roses, the love note, the candlelit restaurant, the French food, not to mention the suit. It’s like a rom-com parody.

But it’s also perfect. It’s everything she’s longed for, an over-the-top romantic date night with her- with her partner. A date that isn’t cut short by a horny stewardess (may she rest in peace) or a failed attempt at exorcism; where Lucifer actually shows up and isn’t just trying to outdo another man; where Chloe isn’t trying to make him ‘do something good for a change’; and their parents aren’t tagging along on a headache-inducing surprise double date that is also a sting in disguise.

So, in some ways, it is kinda their first date.

And it’s a really, really nice date.

They laugh—they laugh so much. More than they’ve done in the past few months combined. Or so it feels, at least.

They laugh, and they talk. About movies they cried to, favourite drinks, and how they’re gonna paint the living room. About the summers spent under the plum tree in Nana’s garden, and all the pranks pulled in the gilded meadows of Heaven. About chasing Amenadiel through the clouds, and how Chloe always wanted a sibling. About her short-lived Hollywood experience and that one time she may have gotten a little high at a Backstreet Boys concert. (He seems impressed by that, her ‘abhorrent’ taste in music aside.) They exchange secrets they never told anyone, stories of bad kisses—Jed used too much tongue; Will was always better with words—and tales from drunken nights out. They reminisce on the first time they met—how annoying she’d found him, how compelling he’d found her—and the many, many cases, some really weird, that first encounter led to.

They talk about Dan.

About missing him, even though he’s making waffles with Charlotte now.

About Trixie, and how therapy seems to be helping her, too. How she still sometimes breaks down crying, but no longer crawls into their bed in the middle of the night, shaking and gasping for air. How she’d laughed the other day, and it’d made them both cry. How incredibly strong she is, that little urchin.

They talk about going to Paris one day, all three of them—the French do make excellent chocolate cakes—or maybe somewhere else she wants to see, once everything is calmer. They talk about some of the prayers Lucifer has been hearing, about faith and free will, what they miss about solving crimes together, what they don’t miss, and how they’re still very much partners, even more so now—in every corner of life.

They talk till their cheeks hurt from smiling and Chloe’s half-drunk on expensive Burgundy. Lucifer asks for the cheque, their food long gone, and pays with cash, making sure to leave a tip possibly the size of Olivier’s monthly salary.

They leave the restaurant giggling about a stupid joke Lucifer makes, his hand splayed out on the small of her back. Her own hand is placed much lower than what is decent for such a fancy place like this, practically cupping his ass, but she’s tipsy enough not to care, and he doesn’t seem to mind the attention. It’s his own fault, anyway, for having his pants tailored to hug his butt like this.

Naturally, Lucifer drives. He doesn’t hold back his comments on how slow and boring her car is, but at least he stays somewhere close to the speed limit. She wishes he’d also wear a seatbelt, and keep both hands on the wheel, but his palm is nice and warm on her thigh, and she trusts he’ll get them home safely. She leans back in her seat, her head comfortably buzzing from wine and him, and watches the blurry city lights through the window. He’s turned down 2ndStreet.

‘Where are we going?’ She looks over at him, curious.

He smiles in the shadows, his fingers stroking the skin left exposed by the slit in her dress. His touch leaves hot, tingling paths on her thigh.

‘I thought we’d go for a second desert.’

Chloe is beyond full, her dress stretched over her now slightly rounder belly, and she can think of other things she’d rather do (things that include pinning Lucifer to their bed and making him groan and beg and laugh), but she’ll never say no to a freshly brewed latte and watching Lucifer obscenely enjoy some Sicilian pastry.

She turns up the radio, fumbling a bit, and closes her eyes with a smile, more content than she’s been in… a long time. His hand stays on her thigh as they move through the night, fingers tapping to the beat of the songs against her skin, creeping higher, teasing, just enough to make her breath hitch, but nothing more, and then back down again. Maybe they’ll just take that latte to-go.

The car comes to a final halt, and first then does Chloe realise they haven’t stopped outside the late-night café and bakery that’s opened down on Spring Street.

‘Lucifer, what’—she looks around, double-checking—‘what are we doing at the back entrance to the precinct? You said we were getting desert.’

He leans across the centre console, fingers spreading on her thigh, and brings their faces so close their noses touch. Chloe swallows.

‘We are,’ he assures her with a wolfish grin, his gaze lingering hungrily on her, and she could jump him right then and there. But he takes his hand off her body and clicks her seatbelt free, pulls the key out of the ignition and exits the car. He strides to her side and opens the door for her, gentlemanly as ever, and she watches him with narrowed eyes as she takes his hand and steps out, sceptical even in her cloud of lust and inebriation.

He heads directly for the back entrance and opens the black iron door with ease, rudely ignoring the state-of-the-art security locks. A part of her knows she should stop him right there and give him a stern talking-to about respecting human laws—he still can’t do whatever the hell he likes just because he’s God now. But another part, the part of her who helped him empty two bottles of French wine, really wants to step over that threshold, to intertwine their fingers and go on a late-night adventure. And that part of her must overpower the other, because she lets him snake his arm around her waist and lead her through the door and inside the familiar building.

She senses him grinning by her side, his fingers curling around her hip in a deliciously tight grip that only stokes the heat pooling low in her belly. He takes her down the corridor, around the corner, and then they’re there, in the middle of the precinct. Everything is covered in darkness, the wide, open space only illuminated by a never-resting info screen and the purplish glow from the vending machine. Still, she can make out the shape of their desk, the door to Ella’s lab, the interrogation room. The fridge in the breakroom still hums obnoxiously, and the air smells like strong coffee and sugary glaze—or maybe that’s just a phantom. Either way, it all tugs at her heart, beckons her down memory lane, and she lets herself be pulled. Through the good, the bad, and the crazy.

Lucifer is quiet beside her, probably lost in nostalgia himself, or maybe just letting her have this moment. But not for long. With titillating eagerness and a devilish smirk, he wraps his fingers around her wrist and pulls her by the hand—towards the evidence closet.

He presses her up against the door, his body hot and hard against hers, and pins her hand against the cold glass of the frosted window. His dark eyes sparkle with mischievous excitement.

‘There’s something we never got to try.’

Her pulse quickens, blood humming loud and hot.

‘Lucifer, we can’t.’ She tries to sound firm around her suddenly heavy breaths and dry throat, but he doesn’t seem discouraged in the least.

He leans in, closer, his smirking lips brush against her ear. ‘Can’t we, now?’

And as if he hadn’t done enough already, he takes her earlobe between his teeth and bites it.

Chloe smothers a gasp.

‘We shouldn’t.’ She puts her hand on his chest and pushes her head against his, nudging him away from her neck so she can thinkfor a second. He reluctantly obeys and settles for placing his hands on her sides, dangerously high, thumbs almost stroking the underside of her breasts. She pushes his hands down to her waist. ‘We shouldn’t have sex in Evidence—shouldn’t have broken into the precinct in the first place. I mean, do you want us to get arrested?’

He only laughs at that, of course. ‘I’m God, darling. I won’t get arrested.’

Chloe rolls her eyes. He would probably charm his way out of it if they were caught, God or not—but that doesn’t make any of this okay. She’s about to tell him as much when he adds-

‘But if you wanted to cuff me and tell me what to do, resisting would be the last thing on my mind. In fact, I’m sure we can find some cuffs lying about-’

‘Lucifer, no.’

Her tone is sharper than she’d intended. He pulls back a little, studying her face. His eyes flicker to her parted lips, her flushed, heaving chest, and then back to her determined gaze. His brows furrow.

‘Do you really not want to do this?’ His voice is soft, serious.

They stare at each other, hot breaths mingling. He’s still pressed up against her, a six-foot-three wall of muscle and love, and his scent—spicy cologne and smoke—floods her head like ambrosia, a dizzying fog of him. Her skin burns beneath his palms, his touch sending embers through the expensive fabric and down, flames licking at her inner thighs. Her heartbeat thumps in her ears.

‘We don’t even work here anymore,’ she rasps, deflecting his question. It’s a weak excuse, but she is fraying at the edges.

A salacious smile forms on Lucifer’s face. ‘We’ll just pretend we do.’

He takes a step back, putting a more ‘professional’ distance between them, adjusts his lapels and attempts at a neutral expression. ‘You wanted to show me something in Evidence, Detective?’

And there’s that word again, want—because she still hasn’t answered his question and her consent means more to him than anything. She loves him for that, she really does, but right now, it’s not that simple. She wants, every cell in her body wants, wants him to shove her into that closet and take her apart. Has wanted it for so long, thought about it for years—at her desk, in the shower, while sitting next to him during interrogations. Thought about it in the self-same evidence closet, as she was pressed up against the wall by someone else. Imagined tugging at his hair, feeling him between her legs—even had to swallow his name. She still thinks about it, thought about it the other night, briefly, wistfully, while making a cup of tea. Thought about how much fun they could have had, sneaking off to secret corners of the precinct like two horny teenagers—if it hadn’t been for, well, mostly Michael, and all the chaos he’d released upon their lives.

In fact, it’s only fair they have at least one reckless, semi-public rendezvous. Just one. To make up for the honeymoon phase they never really had. With all the hurt and heartbreak they’ve had to go through, alone and together, they deserve to have one night of stupid fun.

On the other hand, and this is why it’s not that simple, it’s a bad idea. It’s a really bad idea. And also, pretty illegal. If she asked him to, if she said no now, he would take her home and push her up against the nearest surface, bury himself in her faster than any of them could get their clothes off, bring her to ecstasy-

But it’s not the same. It just isn’t.

With as much innocence she can muster, she looks up at his anticipatory face and puts her hand on the doorknob. The cold steel is a soothing balm against her burning skin.

‘I do want to show you something in Evidence.’

He lights up like it’s a declaration of love, all unrestrained enthusiasm.

‘After you, darling.’

Their lips crash against each other before the door is even closed. He pushes her backwards in the semi-darkness, between shelves and boxes, hands low on her hips. His fingers dig softly into her ass as they stumble towards a sliver of wall together, panting and laughing against each other’s mouths. He doesn’t break contact with her lips as he quickly sheds his jacket on the way and throws it over his shoulder, for the moment uncaring of dirt and creases. Then her back hits the wall with a thunk and she’s instantly struck by déjà vu, until Lucifer grabs her thigh inside the slit of her dress, and the unwelcome memory quickly evaporates in the heat of their clashing bodies as he wraps her bare leg around his waist and pins her to the wall with the hard press of his hips. Their unison groans fill the cramped space.

‘We shouldn’t be here,’ she murmurs breathlessly against his lips before opening her mouth to let his tongue back in. He tastes like wine and crème brûlée.

He hums in disagreement. ‘We should always be here, Detective.’ With the hand still on her ass, he pushes their bodies impossibly closer together and rocks against her. She moans, despite herself.

‘We- I-‘ Chloe stammers, leaning her head back as he kisses his way down her neck, her mind and body pulling in different directions. ‘This is- why am I letting you get away with this?’

She feels him smirk against her throat. His hand slowly glides up her inner thigh—her pulse quickening with every inch—until his thumb brushes past damp fabric.

‘Because you like me.’ His beard rasps against her hot skin in the crook of her neck, a contrast to his soft lips placing slow, open-mouthed kisses from her jaw to her collar. ‘Because you love me.’

Chloe scoffs.

‘Do I love you?’ she questions, her breathing erratic, her eyes turned to the ceiling as he sucks a mark onto her neck. With the hand that is still between her legs, he pushes her underwear to the side and rubs against her, nice and slow. ‘Yes.’ Her gasped answer has a proud, almost victorious chuckle rumbling from his chest.

‘But do I like you?’—she bites her lip and stifles another moan as his fingers press just right—‘That’s still up for debate.’

He breaks off the assault on her neck and looks up at her, eyes black with desire.

‘Allow me to try and tip the scales, then.’

She’s bereaved of his fingers as his hand moves to the edge of her underwear, pulling it down as he sinks to his knees. She almost stumbles when he slips it over her feet, but he grabs her leg, steadying her, and helps her out of her stilettos. Once she’s barefoot, his warm palms slide up the side of her legs, pushes the hem of her dress up a few inches, and then his mouth is on her.

He licks her, slowly, tenderly. She reaches down to pull at his hair, commanding him to give her more, to take more, and he does. He starts feasting on her, all tongue and lips and-

‘God, yes.’

He chuckles smugly into her core. ‘I do love it when you moan my name, darling.’ Eyes fixed on hers, he gives her a nice, long lick before he dives back in. He kisses her clit, sucks it, circles it, laps at her like he can’t get enough, and she’s reduced to a quivering, whimpering mess. She bucks against his face, needing more, and he does that thing that she likes, tongue flicking her clit, warm and wet, as he pushes a finger inside her.

Her eyes clench shut, her head falls back against the wall. She doesn’t bother holding back her groan this time.

Lucifer hums against her, low and greedy, taking as much as he can, before he pulls away with ragged breaths. ‘Ma déesse, que tu as bon gout.’

The meaning is forever lost on her, but his hungry tone, the way his tongue wraps smoothly around the French syllables, the words dripping like sin from his glistening lips, sends warm shivers down her spine.

He slows down his pace inside her, places kisses on her lower belly, seeks her ticklish spots and the ones that make her breath hitch, and then trails down to her hips, studying her sharp bone with his lips and his teeth, before moving down to her thigh, stubble prickling her tender skin. As if he’s got all the time in the world, he lets his mouth travel to the insides of her legs, already spread for him, and kisses a path up her inner thighs, getting closer and closer to where she aches with need,but never quite there. His finger, still moving slowly—too slowly—curls a bit, reaches that spot deep inside her that usually makes her see stars, but he pulls back before she’s even done gasping.

‘Lucifer,’ she breathes, a threat and a plea.

He places one last kiss to her sensitive thigh, nuzzles his nose against her heat, before his tongue finally finds her clit again and his finger starts pumping inside her, fast and hard. Then faster, harder, and, fuck, deeper.

‘Baby,’ she begs him to continue, fire spreading through her body, from her curling toes to her already heated cheeks.

He slows down for a second, and she reaches down to scratch at his scalp in frustration but quickly forgives him when he adds another finger and resumes his perfect pace, thrusting up in her to the beat of her racing heart.

‘Je veux te faire jouir.’ His thumb replaces his tongue as he looks up at her, eyes sparkling with lust and determination, but also patience. Like he could do this for hours, the whole night, as long as she falls apart around his tongue and fingers in the end.

He doesn’t need all night, though. She’s close, so close, can feel the beginning of that blissful high burning in her lower belly, between her thighs, where his mouth licks and nibbles and sucks. A building warmth pumping through her veins. She grabs at his hair, wraps her leg around his shoulder and pushes his face closer into her heat, needing that last-

‘Fuck, right there,’ she gasps. Right there right there right there.

He smirks against her, always eager to please, and does as she says. As she’s teetering on the edge, he curls both fingers inside her, goes impossibly deeper, and reaches the same spot as before, except this time, he doesn’t stop, and she comes with a shudder and a gasped ‘fuck!’ as he licks her through it.

‘Tu es tellement belle, ma chérie,’ he tells her, voice soft with awe as she comes down from her high and opens her eyes. She understands enough of the words to smile down at him, at his dishevelled hair, his swollen lips, and warm, chocolatey eyes.

‘You too, baby.’

She still hasn’t caught her breath when he, after wiping his mouth on her thigh, slowly rises from his feet and starts making his way up her body. His fingers skate lightly up her dress, his knuckles brushing against her rising and falling ribs as his hands sneak higher and higher, closer and closer. With a feather-light touch, he starts tracing the curves of her breasts, deliberately avoiding her aching nipples. He teases her with his fingers, kisses her neck, lips trailing, hot and slow, up to her jaw and the sensitive spot behind her earlobe.

‘J’ai envie de toi,’ he says into her ear, his voice rough with want and determination.

Chloe can’t take it anymore. She fists his waistcoast in one hand and grabs him by the hair with the other to pull him up into a hard kiss. He tries to stay in control, to hold back his obvious desire for just a little longer, but he quickly loses the battle and lets a bit of hunger take over. They pour equal heat into the kiss, tongues pressing and teeth clashing as their mouths slide against each other. She threads her fingers through his curls, he bites her lip, and they both groan and gasp into the kiss.

Chloe’s the one to pull away, needing air sooner than him. They’re looking into each other’s eyes, both panting, when he says it again, ‘J’ai envie de toi.’ This time, breathy desperation shines through his voice. ‘Je veux être en toi.’

And then they’re kissing again and both of them are working at his belt and pants in a flurry of hands until he’s finally inside her with one quick thrust. He fills her to the hilt, deliciously stretching her inner muscles, warm and hard. For a moment, they’re both so overcome they can only pause and breathe, Lucifer’s forehead cradled in the crook of her shoulder as her hand gently strokes the short hairs on the back of his neck.

He pulls back to look deeply into her eyes, and starts off slow. Not teasing, just tender. He kisses her cheeks and neck, every inch of skin he can reach with his lips, and whispers sweet nothings against her skin. She can’t know for sure, of course, because it’s still in French, and she doesn’t catch all of it, the sounds alien and muffled—‘t’es incroyable’, she hears, ‘j’suis fou amoureux de toi’—but something about his tone tells her it’s not as dirty as whatever he was saying before. Still, it makes her just as wet, the words tingling across her skin.

He picks up the pace, wraps her legs tighter around him, and pushes her harder against the wall. His hand grasps her breast roughly, seeking purchase, then rhythmically strokes over her nipple in apology, and she moans her relief. The shelves on either side of them hit the wall with a consistent thump, thump, thump as he thrusts up into her, fucks her, their harsh pants mingling in the small space between their parted lips. Chloe claws at Lucifer’s shoulders and back, hands scrambling for something to hold onto. Even through the two layers of fabric, she can feel his warmth and muscles, and a sudden urge bubbles up within her. With desperate fingers, she starts undoing the buttons on his shirt, but it takes too long—she needs him—so she rips open both shirt and waistcoat and frantically pushes them off his shoulders. He pins her against the wall with a hard thrust, letting go of her thigh and breast to shake the material onto the floor, and Chloe scratches at his finally bare back and shoulders, nails digging into slick, freckled flesh. She arches back into the wall and bares her neck for him to nip and kiss.

‘Fuck, Lucifer!’ she whines. ‘Oh, God, baby, fuckyes!’

He growls at the sound of her noises and bites her ear.

‘J’adore baiser avec toi.’ One hand slides down to her ass, holding her and pushing her dress higher up as the other bites into the now bare skin at her waist. The sharp touch sends a jolt down to her throbbing clit, making her clench tighter around him. ‘J’adore ton corps. T’es vraiment une déesse.’ The last word is a groan against her lips as he kisses her.

It’s wet, messy, and so delicious they both grasp tightly onto each other’s mouths with lips, tongues and teeth, neither of them wanting to ever let go.

‘Je veux t’embrasser,’ Lucifer pants when they break apart for a second, his gaze fixed on her mouth as their lungs fight for air. His dark eyes soften when they look into hers. ‘Chaque jour de ma vie,’ he adds reverently as he leans in. ‘Pour toujours.’ And then he kisses her again, like he wants it to last for all eternity.

His thrusts turn slower and deeper as they kiss, harder, until kissing becomes panting into each other’s mouths and Chloe’s head falls back in sheer pleasure. He tightens his grip on her ass and runs the hand on her waist up her side, brushing his thumb over her nipple as he passes her breast, up her neck, and cups the side of her face. She lets their eyes meet, and the way he’s looking at her, with absolute awe and gratitude, makes her heart flutter and her hips buck against his bare stomach. Her hands slide from where they’ve been clutching his mess of a hair to his back, trailing down to where he’s most sensitive. She places her palms on either side of his spine and presses lightly, carefully.

‘Tu me-’ he cuts off with a gasp when her nails skim over his hidden wings, ‘Tu me rends- fucking hell, Chloe.’

She keens at the guttural sound of her name. He leans his forehead against hers with a grunt, the slight change in angle making his rhythm falter, one hand slamming against the wall next to her. She watches the rest of his control slip through glazed eyes. She did this to him. She rendered God himself lost to his own bliss. That knowledge itself is nearly enough to push her over the edge.

‘Close,’ she breathes.

He grabs both her thighs with strong hands and presses her flush up against the wall, going impossibly deeper inside her. She hisses through her teeth and sputters all kinds of incoherent, unholy prayers into the sweltering air between them. Every hard thrust pushes her closer to ecstasy.

‘You make me so happy,’ Lucifer whispers, sounding so wrecked and raw her eyes clench shut. ‘I want- I hope- fuck- I hope I make you, nnf, just as happy.’

‘You do, baby. You make me so- so-’

Heat floods her veins as she comes, the sweet tension snapping all at once. She cries out, arches her back, and moans long and low as he continues to fuck her through it. His thrusts are quick and inelegant, his arms and thighs trembling, and she knows he’s close. She intentionally clenches around him, whispers his name, and then he too is tumbling over the edge, the only type of falling she ever wants him to feel again.

They smile at each other as they try to catch their breaths, sweaty foreheads still pressed together.

‘I love you,’ he says. ‘So much.’

She hums with happiness, her heart pleasantly aching at the sound of the words he couldn’t say the last time they were here.

‘I love you too, babe.’ She reaches up to lazily nuzzle the hairs at the nape of his neck, still smiling.

‘Maybe you even like me?’

She lets out a breathy chuckle and slides down the wall to land on her bare feet. Her legs are… wobbly, to say the least. Lucifer smirks at her.

‘We’ll see about that.’ She smoothes out her dress as he tucks himself back into his pants and fastens his belt. ‘If anyone ever finds out about this, your chances are pretty bad, buddy.’

She collects his clothes from the floor and helps him into his shirt. Two buttons are missing, lost to the force of her hasty ripping. It gives her an odd sense of satisfaction, the fact that the shirt he wore when they first kissed—the shirt she dreamt of tearing off his body—now is marked by their little escapade. (At least until he gets his tailor to fix it.)

‘Well, I’ll just have to keep trying to convince you then, won’t I?’ He licks his lips and lifts his eyebrows as he offers her a hand to help her up from the floor once she’s put her shoes back on. Chloe bites her cheek so as to not smile at his suggestion and intertwines their fingers.

‘You can start by helping me assemble that new shelf system tomorrow,’ she tells him, waiting for him to groan in response, or mumble something about hiring some people to do it for them. But he doesn’t. He just opens the door for her and lets her go first with a soft smile on his still flushed face.

‘Anything for you, my love.’

The door shuts with a gentle click behind them.

#writing #deckerstar fanfiction #deckerstar #chloe decker #lucifer morningstar #lucifer #lucifer on netflix #fluff #smut #established deckerstar #lucifer is god #post 5b #post s5 #two part drabble game

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golden-olea · 3 years

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Avallac’h’s Girlfriend

I’m not sure if anyone has posted about this before but omg poor thing?

Ok this isn’t Ciri or Avallac’h slander (well, maybe a bit of Avallac’h slander), just a comment about why I understand the way that Avallac’h’s supposed girlfriend acted like she did in the game and why she’s honestly the most disrespected girlfriend ever just think about it:

1. First of all, your boyfriend is not over his ex and literally everyone knows about it. It’s so obvious that complete strangers immediately pick up on the fact that he still has feelings for her (both Geralt and Ciri noticed how he spoke about Lara/reacted to her name being mentioned) and it’s almost a running joke between the Aen Elle (both Eredin and Ge’els making comments about Lara only for Avallac’h to immediately react to them, he literally has no sense of control or composure when it comes to her). He also spends his time away from his home world trying to protect elven graveyards that contain monuments to Lara, monuments he’s weirdly attached too and lingers over incessantly, even in front of complete strangers.

2. And THEN this girl shows up (ily Ciri but this isn’t about you right now) and literally everybody even the KING, Lara’s DAD, makes a comment about how she looks like Lara. Things are not looking good for you bc even the mention of Lara’s name sends Avallac’h in a frenzy and now there’s a whole person here he has to spend time with that literally looks like his ex.

3. NOT TO MENTION the fact that, although cruel (well, the cruel part is implied), he does have another way of getting a child of the elder blood from her (his lab) but even though he’s an extremely pragmatic person, he seems to want to avoid this option at all costs. Oh, but maybe he’s is a pacifist of sorts? Definitely not girl, he literally sics Ciri on Caranthir (who is basically his adopted son of sorts) knowing that she will kill him (and he doesn’t try to tell her to just stop attacking him when she destroys his staff).

4. Anyway, back to Tir na Lia, you get ready to go on a date with him and then this girl shows up, clearly about to have a meltdown, but instead of ignoring her (even though she turned around and was going to leave you alone), you get unceremoniously kicked out of the boat AND on top of it your boyfriend just tells the girl to “refrain from comment” about the look you gave her. Like, what is it Avallac’h? Why not just tell her that you have a girlfriend who is annoyed about you cancelling a date on her? Sure you can say that you’re just doing your job but the fact that she looks like your ex and you won’t state that you have a girlfriend is weird.

5. Speaking of hiding things, Avallac’h then gets in trouble with the Wild Hunt/Eredin and basically becomes a wanted man, meaning that he has to leave the land of the Aen Elle. You are attached/committed enough to him that you decide to side with him and also become a woman on the run. And then what does he do? Runs off to find Ciri and protect her. This is all good and well because, well, it is his job and he is trying to stop the apocalypse after all, but he really goes and makes things weird for no reason:

5a. First of all, he spends at least a small chunk of time on the run locating Lara’s bones, and trying to reanimate them in some way just to have a way to contact her, on TOP of having (maybe even building) a literal shrine dedicated to her in his lab. Seemingly he does this at the same time he’s preparing to have his body absolutely wrecked by Eredin’s curse (right before he finds Keira and gets the potion from her). So yes, this is how he’s choosing to spend his time on the run and in the (possible) last few weeks of his life.

5b. Ok so he’s on the run with Ciri, and he’s trying to gain her trust etc. That’s fine, it’s just part of his job. But then, for some reason, he focuses more time and energy creating potions (ointments? I can’t remember) to help her get rid of her scar. Maybe this is to make her feel more like herself and gain her trust, or maybe it’s to get rid of the scar that covers her eye (or should I say Lara’s eye).

5c. Oh also he refuses to bring CIri to his Lab in Skellige, basically hiding you from her yet again. Maybe he’s just private like that, maybe he doesn’t want her to know that he’s an expert on the topic of the Elder Blood (unlikely considering everything that went down in the Lady of the Lake and the fact that he’s protected her from the Wild Hunt at great personal risk for the last 6+months), so most likely he knows she has a bit of a thing for him and doesn’t want to mar that for ~whatever reason~.

5d. This is the worst one imo, his lab that you’re staying in is basically filled with Lara paraphernalia. Ok, so you’ve moved in. Have fun waking up to a whole-ass enormous wall mural depicting your boyfriend’s favourite obsession. Don’t like that? Ok, go into the next room where your boyfriend has MULTIPLE sketches of Lara/Ciri just, like, lying about, in the open, no shame at all! Even worse, you’re not sure who it is in the photo, and you’re not even sure he knows, and it’s just the same sketch over and over. Obsessed much? Ok, whatever, you decide to go sit down and brush your hair and put on some perfume. Oh, what’s that on your vanity? Yep, it’s a necklace that belonged to his ex just laying there that he won’t get rid of.

5e. Oh and he can’t stop talking about Ciri. Even if it’s not positive, it’s all he seems to talk about. Oh and he’s straight-up told you how much Ciri looks like his Lara. His ex. That he’s obsessed with. Like, to your face.

6. Ciri and company then break into your house and proceed to trash the place.

Not saying she was justified in being so nasty, but I get it.

#avallac'h #ciri #aen elle #tir na lia #wild hunt #lara doren #is this how you use tags idk it's my first post

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daffodillias · 3 years

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( madison bailey , cis woman , she/her ) was that LOGAN RHODES taking the stairs ? the 23 year old MED STUDENT has lived in APT 5B for ONE YEAR. i heard they’re pretty CONFORMIST, but some say they’ve been MAGNANIMOUS. they’re pretty well known for TEXTBOOKS STREWN ACROSS THE FLOOR, ANIMAL CALENDARS FILLED IN WITH ESSAY DEADLINES.

tw; drug addiction

full name : logan rhodes

nicknames : lo, lolo, log

age : twenty-three

birthday : september 2nd

sexual orientation : bisexual

logan was born to a drug addicted mother, father unknown, who tried to raise her but mostly just neglected her, even left her home alone sometimes. it didn’t take long for someone to call child protective services on her and logan was removed from the house. while being checked out in the pediatric intensive care unit, her now adoptive father saw her and heard she was going to be put in foster care. he and his wife had been wanting another kid anyway so they immediately asked to adopt her. this was the part of her backstory she wasn’t aware of. to this day, logan is not aware she was adopted.

she grew up knowing herself as the youngest daughter of a surgeon and a psychologist with an older brother and two older sisters. she loved her sisters but she was always the closest to her brother. she looked up to him like a role model and sure they had their sibling fights, but overall he was one of her best friends.

her parents heavily encouraged the kids to become doctors. while some of her siblings disobeyed that and went into other fields, logan went along with that and is currently in medical school to be an oncologist. deep down, what she truly wanted to be was a vet tech like her brother. shiloh had tried to convince her to go for what she wanted but logan had convinced herself that she belonged in oncology so that’s where she went.

logan’s parents never showed very much affection toward each other, if any at all. they showered the kids with love but never displayed it to each other. logan vowed she would never be that way with her partner. a relationship wasn’t a business transaction, they both deserved love and affection.

despite always being heavily stressed during the school year, logan is an overall sweet person. she moved out about a year ago because she needed to be more independent. she has a little chiweenie named posie who she absolutely adores.

#hqg.intros #tw; drug addiction

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atths--twice · 4 years

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Onto the next chapter!

The Eighth Month 5b/6

Chapter Two

Evening at the Hotel

Needing to stay out of the house while the paint fumes recede, Scully enjoys an afternoon to herself and the evening with Mulder.

Scully stepped into the hotel room, with the bellhop right behind her. He had insisted on carrying her bag, even though it was not heavy. He was a sweet Southern young man, about mid 20’s. He had told her on the elevator ride up that his mama and his grandma would tan his hide if they knew he had let a pregnant woman carry her own bag. She had laughed and thanked him, touching his arm.

He set the bag down on the bed and asked if she needed anything else. She smiled and said no, handing him a twenty dollar bill and thanking him for his help, and grasping his hand. He stammered that she gave him way too much for a tip, but she shook her head and said that his kindness and helpfulness was much appreciated. He looked at her and thanked her, telling her if she needed anything, he would be happy to help her. She smiled and locked the door behind him as he left.

She leaned against the door and looked around. This was a really nice hotel room. All the furniture was a dark colored wood. The bed cover was cream with beautiful detailing in it. The pillows were fluffy and the whole room smelled wonderful.

She walked into the bathroom and gasped. There was a bathtub big enough for two people. There were jets in the tub and she knew she was going to be using those later. The shower was big and had a seat in it. She smiled at the memory of the shower seat in a hotel in California, so many years ago, and touched her swollen belly. Definitely would not be using that tonight.

The sinks were standalone deep bowl sinks, with counters in between. The mirrors were big and the lights able to dim. This was probably the nicest hotel she had ever stayed.

Mulder. God, she loved that man. Loved him for the care he took to do all that was needed at home, but also to give her this luxurious night out. He knew just how to get to her. The pampering and spoiling she rarely did for herself, he saw to it for her. He had his faults, but his sweetness and thoughtfulness made up for them in spades.

She walked back into the bedroom and sat on the bed. Sighing as she slipped off her shoes, she fell back on the bed. Oh god, it was comfortable. She turned on her side and stretched.

She was tired, but the day had actually been fun and not as cringe worthy as she had imagined. Either baby showers had changed since her last one, or someone must have made an effort to not have the embarrassing games she had imagined. Instead, they had a nice luncheon, played a couple of fun games, chatted and opened presents. In total, there had been about twenty women in attendance. She had received wonderful gifts and had been incredibly grateful for the ones who had given them.

She felt a sense of guilt that she had complained to Mulder about going to the party. It was not as bad as she thought. Yes, some of the women were more bubbly than she was used to, but they were kind and attentive to her.

One young woman in particular, Dr. Stevens, Annabelle, had been extremely kind and sweet. She had approached Scully almost shyly, and told her that she had admired her work for years now, but had never had the courage to tell her. The papers Scully had written, the cases she had worked on, were amazing and awe inspiring. She had great respect for her.

Scully had been taken aback, not one to bask in the praise. She had thanked her, but could see that she had more to say. She had invited her to sit next to her as they ate, and Annabelle’s eyes lit up.

During the meal, she had plagued Scully with questions. She had wanted to know what made her decide on her specialty, when she knew she wanted to be a doctor, was it true she also worked at the FBI, how that factored into her work as a doctor, and what her plans were after she had the baby.

Scully had looked at her and Annabelle blushed to the roots of her hair. She had apologized profusely for asking so many personal questions and looked down at her plate ad Scully had smiled. She had recognized the thirst for knowledge and also the exuberance of youth. Had she ever been that young? It seemed so long ago.

Scully had answered her questions and then asked her where she worked at the hospital and about her specialty. Annabelle had become more animated about her own specialty and what she wanted to do in the future. Scully informed her that she had heard of her work, but had not known the name to go with the face. She had told her she was doing wonderful work and to keep continuing with it. She had offered her some advice and steps to take to reach her goals for the future.

Annabelle had blinked away tears as she told her how much her words meant to her. Scully smiled. She remembered how words of encouragement had helped her. She was happy to offer advice to fellow doctors. Especially to young women setting out on their path.

Her OB, Doctor Reynolds, Elise, had been invited as well and her friendly face was a welcome sight. She had inquired how she was, an informal checkup so to speak. They had spoken of the upcoming birth and preparations at home. Scully had told her about Mulder getting things ready and Skinner coming to help.

Elise and she had laughed at the story of the bookcase losing all the books, thus cementing Mulder’s credibility in being able to properly put furniture together. She had brought another picture for Mulder from Raina. This time it was two round people holding stick arms together and inside one person was a little face, which was “Ms. Dana’s baby.”

Scully had looked at it and her eyes filled with tears. She had dabbed at her eyes as Elise rubbed her shoulder and then put the picture in the gift bag she had brought so it would not be misplaced.

After the games, it had been time to open gifts. Annabelle had offered to write down all the items so Scully had a list. Much laughter and teasing had occurred while she opened them. She had received many cute outfits, a baby carrier and a baby wrap, supplies, baskets to store items, blankets, and many books.

There were even items for her now and after the arrival of the baby. Bubble bath, a couple bottles of red wine, and a bag of dark roasted fully caffeinated coffee beans which made her salivate and the women laugh and nod in solidarity. She strongly suspected someone got in touch with Mulder about items she liked.

After the party, Annabelle had offered to take the gifts home with her and drop them off the next day when she heard of Scully staying the night in the hotel. She was happy to help and cheerfully loaded up her car.

Elise had suggested they go out for a coffee, and so they had. It was nice and interesting to have someone to talk to besides Mulder. She would take him over them any day, but female companionship was something she was sorely lacking. She had enjoyed the couple hours she had spent with Elise. She was funny, smart, sarcastic, and had a great sense of humor. They had a fun time discussing patients who had been tough, or who had really touched their lives. Scully was pleased to find they had so much in common. She was glad they had the chance to bond a little more before the baby was born. She had left shortly after their coffee and arrived at the hotel.

She stood up now and found her phone in her bag. It was 4:00 now. Three and a half hours before she had to be downstairs to meet Mulder for dinner. Maybe she had time to squeeze in a quick nap and then a soak in that wonderful tub. She set the alarm for 5:30, took off everything but her underwear and bra, slipped under the covers into the softest sheets ever, and was asleep in minutes.

It felt as though she had barely closed her eyes when her alarm began blaring. She groaned and hit snooze. After the second time hitting the button, she knew she needed to get up.

She stumbled into the bathroom and turned on the bathtub water. When the temperature was right, she plugged it up and waited for it to fill. She used the toilet, her eyes closed and head down, still tired. The baby suddenly gave her a swift quick and she gasped, her eyes flying open.

“Jesus, little one,” she said softly, rubbing where the baby had kicked. “Try not to kick so hard.”

She stood up and took off her under things. Walking toward the tub, she caught her reflection and walked closer to the mirror. She stared at her stomach, at the way it was stretching to accommodate the growing life inside her. She marveled at the amazement of the reproduction process. How a single sperm and egg begins the process that creates a human life. How something microscopic could find the other, band together, and develop into an actual person. Two halves becoming whole.

She rubbed her stomach, the love for this child filling her heart. She closed her eyes, thinking of her other child out alone in the world. She hoped he had found people to help him on his journey, praying one day that journey would bring him back to her. To Mulder. She wanted to hold him again and see for herself that he was okay.

She opened her eyes and turned to the tub, finding it was nearly full. She saw different types of bubble bath and oils on the edge of the tub she had not noticed before. She looked at them and decided on a lavender scented oil. She added some to the bath and breathed in the scent, feeling relaxed already.

She turned the water off, put her hair up, and climbed in the tub. Oh.. it was wonderful. The tub was so deep, she could almost float around in it. She leaned back and let the lavender scent and warmth of the water soothe her.

The baby rolled and swirled in her stomach. The water seeming to propel her moving like a little fish. She smiled as she watched the movements. She remembered when she was pregnant with William how he would do the same thing; rolling all around inside of her, as she lay in the tub.

He had loved the bath when he was a baby, too. Always splashing and smiling when she put him in water. She closed her eyes as she tried not to cry. She had so few memories of his childhood and the ones she had were so precious.

She found herself wondering about his love of water. Did he always like it? Did he enjoy swimming? That exhilarating feeling of jumping in a cold pool on a hot day?

She could not stop the tears that filler her eyes. She no longer felt the guilt, but she still felt the sadness. She and Mulder had been robbed of loving their son, being his parents, being a family. She sobbed for all they had missed, all they would have had.

The baby moved around again and all of a sudden, she saw a vision of the sea. She could almost feel the wind and smell the salty air. She gasped and her heart started pounding. She knew this was Jackson. Knew he was trying to contact her. She slowed her crying, closed her eyes, and paid attention.

She saw the sand and the rocks, as if seeing it through his eyes. The water was getting closer, the setting sun shining off of it. She saw feet, toes in the water, as the waves approached and receded from the shore. Then ankles were covered with the water, sand squishing between the toes. The water was still, the ripples stopped, when she saw a face reflected in the water. Jackson was grinning at her. He put up two fingers- a peace sign. He nodded and then the vision was gone.

She opened her eyes and cried through her laughter. He was okay. He was somewhere by the sea and he wanted her to know.

Since the night he had come to her months ago, she had not had any visions. She thought he must be learning to control his abilities and it seemed that he had. He figured out how to tap into her emotions when she was thinking of him, needing assurance that he was okay. She cried and cried. Happy tears falling without stopping. He was all right and by the water. He must still love it.

She took deep breaths and turned on the tub jets, letting the bubbles swirl around her as she rubbed her stomach, making a promise to this child. No one would hurt her, or try to take her away from them. There were two of them now and they were stronger together. No harm would come to her.

She reaffirmed a promise to Jackson too, hoping he could still feel her. She would be there for him, they would be there for him, whenever he needed them. The house and they were always waiting for him to come to them, when he was ready. She wiped her face and let the bubbles relax her for just a little longer.

Turning off the jets a few minutes later, she got out of the tub, pulled the plug, and dried off with the fluffy white towel folded by the tub. She put on the robe that was hanging on the back of the door and went into the bedroom.

She had a new dress for this evening, one Mulder had not yet seen. She had bought it when she bought the one for the baby shower. She took it out of her bag and hung it up, glad the material was one that did not wrinkle easily.

It was a deep plum color, with a dark indigo satin piping crisscrossed across the chest. A matching satin sash tied around the high waist and ran the length of the dress, which fell just past her knees. The sleeves were three quarter and fitted. She had loved it before she even tried it on.

She bought new underwear too, lacy plum colored ones and a bra that matched. She planned on enticing Mulder to walk her back up to her room and she wanted to be ready.. for anything.

She took off her robe and put on her lotion before sliding on her underwear and bra and walking into the bathroom with her makeup bag. She put on her makeup a little bit differently tonight, her eyes a bit darker with more eyeliner and mascara than usual. She had a new purple eye shadow that matched her dress which she applied carefully, not wanting to overdo it. She put on lipstick in a shade she had not worn in a long time. Letting her hair down, it fell in loose waves. God bless those pregnancy hormones and prenatal vitamins; her hair was fuller than it ever had been before.

Her phone began ringing from the other room and she walked out and saw that it was Mulder calling.

“Hello?” she said with a smile.

“Scully? Can you hear me?” he shouted, causing her to pull the phone away from her ear.

“Yes, Mulder I can hear you,” she said, sitting on the bed.

“Scully? Hello?” he shouted again.

“Mulder! I can hear you!” she shouted back, trying not to laugh.

“This fucking thing." She heard him mutter. “This Bluetooth, Scully. It never connects right. Hello?”

She put her hand over her mouth and shook her head. He always had a problem with his phone connecting to the Bluetooth in the car. She had received many frantic, expletive filled phone calls from him. He almost always gave up and put his headphones on, cursing all the while.

When she would come home, she would show him again how to connect it and he would claim he had done all that but it did not work. She would easily connect his and he would stand there, shaking his head and cursing. Sounded like she would need to give him another lesson.

“Hello?” he shouted again. “Scully, I fucking give up. I don’t have my headphones with me, so hopefully you can hear me. I’m on my way. I’ll meet you at the restaurant at 7:30. Scully? Shit! I hate this thing! Just fucking connect!” he screamed. And then the phone hung up.

She sat there and laughed at how inept he was at simple things but could phreak a phone to find information. She had to love that man.

She waited, but he did not call back. She got up and picked up her dress, taking it off the hanger and slipping it on. Oh.. she loved the color and was pleased with how good she looked, pregnant stomach and all.

She slid her shoes on, looked at her reflection one more time, then glanced at her phone. Ten minutes. Well, it would take her a few minutes to get downstairs. She also wanted to be already seated when he walked into the restaurant. She wanted to see his face when he saw her in this dress. See his wide eyes of surprise changing to desire. It never failed to arouse her.

She put her key card in her bra and left her phone behind. She would not need anything else and when they arrived at the door later and he watched her take the key out of her bra.. she knew he would be staying for a little while. Yes, she knew what she was doing.

As she arrived at the restaurant, she noticed there was a wedding reception in the large room next door. She could hear a band playing and she smiled, silently wishing the couple a lifetime of happiness.

She walked up to the restaurant hostess and gave her name. She was seated right away, with the eyes of the hostess on her stomach. Scully laughed quietly at her attempt to be nonchalant about it, but failing miserably. The hostess caught her eye and blushed as she walked away and Scully just laughed again.

She sat facing the front of the restaurant and waited. The waiter approached and she ordered some bubbly water for her and a beer for Mulder.

She saw Mulder walking up a couple minutes later out of the corner of her eye. She kept facing away until she knew he had spoken to the hostess. When she saw him looking for her, she stared straight at him.

She saw the face when he saw her, the exact one she had been hoping for. His eyes widened and his surprised gaze traveled down what he could see. His eyes had became desirous on the return trip to her face. Oh yeah, she still had it. Scoot in her boot and all that.

She saw him wave the hostess away and point to her. He walked over and his eyes burned into her. She stood up and he stopped walking, eyes roaming over her body. The waiter arrived and her attention was momentarily diverted as he set the drinks down.

Mulder made it to her side as the waiter backed away. He placed a hand on her hip and brushed his lips against her cheek, then moved to her ear.

“Jesus Christ, Scully. Do you have any idea how gorgeous you look right now?” he whispered, his fingers on her hip curling in and pulling at her.

“I have some idea,” she impishly replied as he stood back and stared at her. His gaze traveled from her face, to her breasts, her legs, and stopped at her breasts again, before looking in her eyes.

“We should have just ordered room service. My god..” he said, shaking his head.

“You don’t look so bad yourself, Mulder,” she said letting her eyes travel over his tall frame.

He had on dark jeans and a white shirt under a black sweater she loved. He smelled amazing and she almost suggested they head upstairs, but she had made the effort to get dressed and made up. She wanted to have a nice night out with him, not knowing how many of them they had left before the baby arrived.

He shook his head and stepped back from her. He held her chair as she sat back down before taking his seat across from her. He shook his head again, as she smiled at him.

“Seriously, Scully. They need to retire that dress and let it forever be known as the “Dana Scully dress.” No one would ever or could ever hope to look as beautiful as you when they wear it. No one should even bother trying.” he said, his eyes dark, his face serious.

“Flattery will get you everywhere, Mulder, but it will not feed the hungry child inside me. So, let’s figure out what we’re going to have for dinner and then you can keep those compliments coming,” she said, raising her eyebrows and reaching for her menu. He laughed and reached for his as she grazed his leg with her foot and he looked at her as she smiled at him.

“Thank you,” she said quietly.

He nodded and smiled back at her. They were quiet as they studied the menu. The waiter came up again and told them of the specials. He described a pasta with creamy tomato sauce, that made Scully’s stomach growl. She asked for that and set her menu down, looking at Mulder. He ordered a steak and potatoes, a side of fries, and a bowl of French onion soup.

The waiter looked at him, but said nothing. He left the table, taking their menus, and Scully looked at Mulder.

“Potatoes and fries, Mulder?” she asked him, raising her eyebrows.

“Stop. The fries are for you. You know you want them and you have been craving them as long as the grilled cheese sandwiches. You won’t ever order them, but you always want them,” he said, looking at her pointedly.

He was right, and she could not argue that he was not. She had craved the oddest things. Grilled cheese sandwiches, green olives, French fries, and grape juice. God, thinking about the tart taste of the grape juice, made her mouth water. Jesus, it sounded so good.

“You want me to see if they have grape juice?” he asked with a smirk as he watched her smack her lips.

She stared at him as if his question was preposterous. But the thought of drinking that grape juice made her change her look to pleadingly. He smiled and nodded as he got up from the table.

Oh, she needed that grape juice. She watched him talk to the waiter and he shook his head. Her heart sank and she felt incredibly silly for feeling so needy for something so small.

Mulder was gone from her sight for awhile and she felt so embarrassed that he must have left the restaurant searching for grape juice. No way he would find it, if the restaurant did not have any. Where would he even look in this hotel?

She looked around again and he came walking past the hostess stand. His hands were empty and she felt strangely like she was going to break down in tears. God damn.. this was so embarrassing.

He walked up to the table and stood beside her.

“Sit down. Please,” she said quietly, begging him as she reached for his hand.

“Wait,” he said, reaching behind him and pulling out a small bottle of fancy grape juice, apparently from his waistband, and setting it on the table.

“What?!” she exclaimed, grabbing for it.

“The wedding next door,” he explained, laughing as he sat down. “I figured someone over there had to want something nonalcoholic. Turns out, kids do, Scully. Who knew huh?” He smiled at her.

He took the bottle from her and opened it up. She drank her bubbly water down in three big gulps and handed him her glass. He chuckled as he poured it in and she grabbed it back.

The first sip of it hit her tongue and her eyes rolled back in her head. At that moment, someone would have had a hard time convincing her that sex was better than taking a drink of a liquid she craved so much. She drank it down in a few gulps and she sat back, fully satisfied, and no longer caring who thought what about her.

“Good?” he asked her, a laughing smile on his face. She got up out of her chair and leaned down and kissed him. Then again, her tongue lightly grazing his.

“Ahem..” A voice said to her right side.

The waiter was standing there with the plate of fries and the salad that came with her meal. She stood up and went back to her seat, grabbing the bottle of grape juice on her way.

She poured another glassful and kept her eyes on Mulder. He was watching her, stuck between desire and trying not to laugh. The waiter set her plate of salad down in front of her and put the fries in the middle of the table.

“Thank you,” Mulder said, his eyes never leaving Scully’s.

The waiter left, both of them smiling and then laughing. He grabbed a couple fries and she took a small drink before starting on her salad.

The rest of the meal passed uneventfully. They discussed what they had done that day and what the plan was for tomorrow. Scully told him about Annabelle bringing the gifts by tomorrow. She needed to come by at 9:00, before mass with her family. Mulder said he would be there and not to worry about it.

After they ate, and Scully finished the bottle of grape juice, the waiter asked if they wanted dessert. Scully declined and Mulder did as well. He paid the bill and they left the restaurant.

As they walked out, they heard the band playing a fast number and laughter coming from inside the wedding reception.

“You want to go crash a wedding, Scully?” Mulder asked her mischievously, taking her hand and tugging her toward the door.

“No!” she said, pulling on his hand. “It’s bad enough you somehow pilfered that bottle of grape juice. I mean, you know what that meant to me, but still. We can’t walk into someone’s wedding reception. Also, I’m not exactly inconspicuous here,” she added, motioning to her stomach.

“You look good. Better than good,” he told her, stroking her cheek. “But you’re right, Scully. It’s probably good we don’t head in there. All the attention would be on you and the bride would feel jealous. Best not to do that on her big day.”

“Mulder..” she said, but she could not stop her smile.

“And Scully, I didn’t pilfer the grape juice. I simply explained to a waiter that I had a very pregnant woman waiting for me and she needed grape juice. He said his wife just had a baby recently so he understood. Then he got it for me,” he told her, shrugging his shoulders.

His fingers moved to her hair, holding it as he stroked it down over her shoulder. They stared at one another before they both turned when they heard a slower song start. It was not the wedding band, but prerecorded music, but not a song she recognized.

Mulder extended his hand and she smiled as she took it. He pulled her close and they began to sway slowly. She took a deep breath and breathed in his scent. The aftershave he wore, but the Mulder scent she would recognize anywhere. She closed her eyes and relaxed into his embrace.

Oh, I always let you down You're shattered on the ground But still I find you there Next to me And oh, stupid things I do I'm far from good, it's true But still I find you Next to me

She missed the beginning of the song, but the chorus hit her square in the chest. It was as if someone was describing their life. No matter what happened, always next to each other. She listened to the next part of the song more carefully.

There's something about the way that you always see the pretty view Overlook the blooded mess, always lookin' effortless And still you, still you want me I got no innocence, faith ain't no privilege I am a deck of cards, vice or a game of hearts And still you, still you want me

She felt Mulder tighten his grip on her and she knew he too was listening to the words.

Oh, I always let you down You're shattered on the ground But still I find you there Next to me And oh, stupid things I do I'm far from good, it's true But still I find you Next to me

He pulled back and looked at her. He held her face, stroking her cheeks with his thumbs. They stared at each other. The words of the song seeming to speak directly to them.

So thank you for taking a chance on me I know it isn't easy But I hope to be worth it

Mulder leaned his forehead to hers, his hands sliding down her arms and onto her waist. They stood, swaying slightly to the music, holding onto one another. Speaking the best way they did, with no words. Relying on touch and looks to relay how they felt.

So thank you for taking a chance on me I know it isn't easy But I hope to be worth it

Oh, I always let you down You're shattered on the ground But still I find you there Next to me And oh, stupid things I do I'm far from good, it's true But still I find you Next to me

As the song ended and a new one began, he pulled her tighter and whispered his love for her. His thanks, his appreciation, and his apologies. She leaned back and held his face in her hands.

“No more apologies, Mulder. Forgiveness has been granted. I love you. So much,” she said quietly before she kissed him.

He pulled her close and held her to him. The new song was faster, but still they held each other and swayed slowly.

“Could I possibly interest you in walking me upstairs? Maybe ordering some dessert from room service?” she mumbled into his chest. He laughed and pulled back, staring at her as he touched her cheek again.

“I don’t need any dessert, but I would definitely be interested in seeing you safely to your room. Making sure you make it to bed without any trouble. Or.. maybe a little trouble,” he said, raising his eyebrows and winking at her.

“You chose wisely,” she said, grabbing his hand and walking to the elevators, as he laughed behind her. “I’ve got something for you to see when we get upstairs.”

She stopped at the bank of elevators, pushed the up button, and turned to him. She leaned in and he bent his head toward her.

“Not to completely spoil the surprise, but it’s something under my dress,” she whispered in his ear.

He gave a sharp intake of breath, straightening up as the elevator doors opened. He quickly escorted her inside, pushed her against the wall, and began kissing her as the doors closed behind them. The music from the wedding reception fell silent, his love for her the only music she needed to hear.

#The X Files #XF Fanfic #Post MSIV #Evening Out #Shared Visions #Baby Shower #Happy #Dinner #Dancing #Spending Time Together

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sturnioloshacker · 4 years

Text

Love Story | A Jonah Marais Fanfic (PART 5B)

Requested by @xxghostnappaxx

A/N: The finale!!! I’ve enjoyed writing this fanfic so much!! Hope you have enjoyed reading this my love (and other people who have read it!) xx

Today’s the day... I’m officially going to be Mrs. Marais!!!!! I honestly never thought that this day would come. Heck, I honestly never thought I’d be getting married to a member of a world famous band! It feels like a dream but it’s a reality and I’m just super excited!!! Little did I know that I would become best friends with the love of my life and his friends! Little did I know that the guy I styled was going to be the guy that I’ll be spending the rest of my life with! Oop! Here I go! I’m officially becoming Mrs. MaCayla Ciara Marias!

The final touches of makeup are set, the little flyaways in my hair are neatly tucked in and my dress is adjusted to make sure it floats off the ground like a princess as I walk down the aisle. The butterflies begin and the adrenaline kicks in. It feels like a dream but it’s actually a reality and I can’t believe it! I’m about to marry my best friend and the love of my life. This feeling is just so surreal and I’m so happy to be in this position!

I watch the boys walk down the aisle and stand in a line. I then watched my soon-to-be husband walk down. My god did he look handsome! My breath got caught in my throat. He just looked so good! I’m marrying that?! Oh my lord!! I then watch my girl friends walk down the aisle and they looked absolutely beautiful! I take a deep breath and walk to where the aisle starts. The nerves kick in and I start to feel sick. “Breathe, darling. You’re okay”, my dad whispers in my ear and kisses my cheek. “I’m right here”. I smile at my dad and thank him for reassuring me. The music sounds and I begin my walk down the aisle. I look at Jonah who’s sobbing which makes me well up.

I kiss my dad on the cheek and walk up to meet Jonah, who takes my hand and kisses it ever so gently. He gently pushes my veil over my head and his breath gets caught in his throat. “You’re so beautiful!” he whispers. “So handsome!” I whisper. The ceremony begins and shit just got real. It’s actually happening.

Despite the amount of times we had to stop due to sobbing from both Jonah and I, we managed to get through our vows. The rings get handed to us and with shaky hands, we exchanged rings. “I now pronounce you husband and wife!” echoed through the microphone and Jonah swept me off my feet and into a sweet and passionate kiss. Confetti and rose petals were thrown in the air and cheers and squeals were sent our way.

The reception, or as I like to call it, the after party, was so much fun! Everyone was dancing, singing and having a ball! The whole night was filled with so much love and joy and it just made Jonah and I feel so special. The music faded away and the MC tapped on the mic. “Could I get everyone off the dance floor except for the happily married couple?”

Everyone walks back to their tables and Jonah and I are left standing, hand in hand. “It is time for these two to have their first dance as a couple!” the MC says and everyone cheers. I then noticed Daniel, Jack, Zach and Corbyn walk on to the stage and sit in their seats. “Oh. My. God. They’re not!” I whisper to Jonah. “They are!” The boys start singing ‘What Am I’ and Jonah turns me around and pulls me into a warm and gentle embrace. We slowly start swaying and moving across the dance floor as the boys sing. I hear Jonah whispering his parts in my ear and I can’t help but smile.

The song finishes and the music starts again which makes everyone run up to the dance floor and the party starts. Everyone is singing, dancing, drinking and having so much fun. The ceremony was magical but this was a party! This was honestly the best night ever! And I spent it with the ones I adore and the love of my life who is now my husband.

LATER THAT NIGHT...

My mum stops at the driveway of the house and drops us off. “Thanks mum! Love you!” I say to my mum and I hop out of the car. “Thanks Mrs. Underwood!” the boys say and hop out of the car. We all walk in and head upstairs to get ready for bed. “Night guys!” I yell to the boys as we all head to our rooms. “Night!”

Jonah and I walk to our room and get ready for bed. “That was a blast!” I say. “Agreed!” he replies. I walk to the bathroom and wrap my arms around Jonah’s waist. “And I wouldn’t want to spend it any other way”. Jonah spins in my grasp and picks me up. I squeal as he picks me up and kisses me. “On a scale of 1-10, how tired are you?” he asks. I give him a confused look. “Um... 4. Why?” I ask and I see a smirk appear on his lips. He gently lays me on the bed and plants kisses across my jawline and neck. “Let’s have some fun, shall we?” he asks.

That night was spent touching, kissing and having some nice, passionate - you get where I’m going with this! Let’s just say that Jonah is great in bed!! Especially when he’s your husband!!!

And that is officially the end! I hope you enjoyed my lovely and I hope other people who have read this enjoyed too! It has been fun writing this fanfic and I hope you guys had fun reading it!

If you want a fanfic, hit up my asks and I’ll happily write it for you xx

#jonah marais #why don't we #jonah marais imagines #why don't we imagines #Jonah marais fanfic #why don't we fanfic

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the-one-man-tower-of-babel · 4 years

Text

PARTY ATMOSPHERE DESCRIPTION POST:

[Anatole’s haven is usually a rather quiet ten unit apartment building in downtown Los Angeles. He and Nigel live on the upper level, unit 3B (the unit with the fewest windows, naturally), where the red-headed ghoul is currently napping after suffering great jetlag after coming back to LA from visiting his mother. He has no idea the rest of the neighbors have all been paid to live at a luxurious hotel not far away for the next week, giving Anatole freedom to remove their personal belongings from their apartments and turn the entire building into a celebration of Nigel.

When one enters the building, there is an archway with a tall wrought iron gate that one needs a keycard to enter. Tonight one needs to to be on the guest list only. On either side of the archway are two doors, one being the landlord’s office and the other being the community laundry room. The landlord’s office has been converted into the coat/weapon check room while the laundry room is pretty much just storage for all the extra party supplies. Crossing the threshold into the inner courtyard of the apartment building, things are bright and colorful and almost psychedelic.

The courtyard has a few small trees, all of which are covered in Halloween streamers that look like jack o lantern and ghost faces. Between some of the threes are three long banquet tables with warmed blood bags on one end and human refreshments on the other. In the center is the grandiose birthday cake for Nigel surrounding by the various presents Anatole has already gotten for him and will soon be added to by the arriving guests.

All the different apartments have been transformed into different places for the guests to explore, they are as follows:

Apartment 1A: The entire unit has been turned into a kitty play palace! There are over a dozen cats on attendance tonight so Anatole wanted them to have their special place. Feel free to go and play with them!

Apartment 2A: Dancefloor 1. With a more upbeat and pop-like soundtrack playing. The walls have been sound proofed so it’s quiet on the outside but quite a party inside!

Apartment 3A: The chess parlor. Anatole has set up four different tables with antique carved ivory playing pieces. This is also where the imported German beer he ordered for @grunfeld-bach is being kept in ice buckets.

Apartment 4A: Dancefloor 2. With a more dark, industrial soundtrack playing with walls also soundproofed.

Apartment 5A: The board game parlor. There four tables with four chairs each set up with Monopoly, Yahtzee, Candyland, Clue, and many others ready to be played should a group want to!

Apartment 1B: The meat louge. A specially designed room for the Tzimisce art of fleshcrafting. Enter at your own risk. A special place made for @dreamofconstantinople

Apartment 2B: The stoner lounge. Temporarily ghouled persons with marijuana in their system are inside this apartment filled with the aroma of dank kush and microwave burritos amongst the installed gaming systems and televisions and lots of bean bag chairs.

Apartment 3B: Shhhh! Don’t wake Nigel until it’s time!

Apartments 4B and 5B: The haunted house. In the spirit of the season, Anatole has purchased literally every animatronic they had in stock at the local Spirit Halloween store and worked all day making it so please, please take a stroll through!]

Welcome to Nigel’s birthday party!

((OOC: Party is continuing into October 25th!

To make a post for the party simply do @ Anatole!))

#nigel’s birthday party 2020 #vampire: the masquerade #world of darkness #anatole the malkavian

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wheredidhiseyebrowsgo · 5 years

Note

Were stiles who just scentmarks his whole pack

I cheated a little bit and went with the pack scentmarking and cuddling each other. We also have a scent kink tag for more specific scentmarking. - Anastasia

Werewolf Behaviorism by melonbutterfly

(1/1 I 3,551 I Teen I Sterek)

"Is that a thing the alpha does? Feed his bitch? Is being the bitch a good thing? With human connotations it's demeaning but in the wolf sense of the word it's not, so what does Derek actually mean by that?"

"Nobody said anything about a bitch!" Scott wails and throws himself out of the car.

Put Your Lights On by Horribibble

(4/? I 5,174 I Mature I Sterek)

He has the distinct feeling that he has been hurt often, and that a number of people have had the honor. He eyes the trees at the roadside and wonders if he would not be better off living with wolves.

And then he remembers, There are no wolves in California.

---

After an incident leaves Stiles with a damaged memory and little sense of security, it's up to Derek to take him in and fix him piece by piece.

Where would my pack be with out me? by Little_Red_Hot_Riding_Hood

(10/? I 6,485 I Not Rated I Sterek)

Stiles is sick, not the deathly kind of sick, but the kind of sick where all you want to do is take a large dose of medcine and sleep through it, which is what Stiles plans to do. The pack think a few days without Stiles playing 'pack mom' will be fine, they might get some nice peace without him. Boy were they wrong.

These Are a Few of My Favorite Things by Imasupermuteant

(1/1 I 10,921 I Teen I No Pairing)

Stiles is a dragon. He hoards werewolves.

The Beacon Hills Dead Mothers Society by narceus

(1/1 I 12,418 I Teen I No Pairing I MCD)

Deucalion really does kill Melissa. Everything changes. That's life, though, everything always changes, and there's no stopping that.

Other things stay the same. Like pancakes.

Euphoria (From the Devil's Hand) by darklumi

(1/1 I 16,601 I Explicit I Sterek)

Stiles clenched his fists, feeling empty and alone. He took a deep breath, shuddering shakily when he exhaled and his eyes began to sting and fill with moisture. He wiped at them angrily, he refused to cry. He breathed deeply to keep himself calm, to keep the overwhelming feeling of panic at bay, he didn't want to have a panic attack, not here, not out in the open like this. Derek was out there, he knew it, and he wasn't going to embarrass himself further in front of the werewolf. To make himself look needy. Stiles just let his shoulders slump with defeat and climbed into his jeep.

No one wants you.

He drove home silently, entered the house, and laid upon the bed. His felt his eyes droop heavily, his breathing evened out shortly after, and he fell asleep easily. He then entered a dream where the pain wasn't as sharp and he wasn't alone. He entered a dream where he was just a shadow to those that didn't matter and was someone important to a person that did.

You Can Stay As Long As You Want by jacyevans

(5/5 I 25,969 I Teen I Sterek)

When Derek arrives upstairs, Erica takes one look at him, rolls her eyes, and takes the bags of groceries from his hands.

“So I see Mr. 5B has arrived,” she says, leaning against the counter, shoulders shaking with laughter.

Derek hates his pack.

Stiles and Scott are the new tenants in Derek's apartment building. While Derek and Stiles attempt to ignore their burgeoning interest in each other, their respective packs make sure nothing will keep the two idiots from falling in love. Except maybe the faulty elevator.

Take Me Out To The Ball Game (Or to dinner, I'm easy either way) by Whisper91

(7/8 I 32,556 I Mature I Sterek)

In which single-father Derek Hale falls head over heels for his sons' new Little League coach. Unsurprisingly, it's all Laura's fault.

Stand By Me by Hepzheba

(7/7 I 53,186 I Explicit I Sterek)

Derek goes back to Beacon Hills to become a deputy, leaving his two sisters in New York. In Beacon Hills he finds a new best friend, a new pack and maybe even love. But there are also a rogue Alpha and crazy hunters disturbing the peace of Beacon Hills.

Saving Stiles by DancesintheWind

(21/21 I 67,020 I Mature I Sterek)

There are new hunters in Beacon Hills, big whoop, no big deal, except they have shown an extremely sick interest in Stiles. Derek has assigned the betas to protect him but Stiles is becoming increasingly more interested in Derek coming over instead. Sterek.

One for All by orphan_account

(13/21 I 68,630 I Mature I Sterek)

"Peter Hale and Kate Argent laid dead in the earth. Derek became the Alpha, stripping Peter of his powers. Erica Reyes, Vernon Boyd, Jackson Whittemore, and Isaac Lahey were now werewolves. Derek seemed to be building a brand new Pack for Beacon Hills. Scott’s control was waning, with no Alpha or girlfriend to anchor him.Life couldn’t get worse for Stiles Stilinksi."

After taking the bite in order to help Scott find an anchor after Peter's death, Stiles finds himself as the newest member of Derek Hale's Pack.

While trying to bind together the group of misfits, each suffering from their own brand of despair, Stiles becomes more to the Pack than just another werewolf. He becomes the heart of the pack and the Right Hand of the Alpha himself, with all the power and responsibilities that come with it.

Yet, as Stiles navigates the complexities of living the everyday life of a werewolf, he finds himself as the target of a force greater than he could have ever imagined. A force, unknowingly to him, responsible for the atrocities not only to his own family but to the family of his newfound Mate.

Like hell would Stiles let that stand.

The Boy Who Tamed the Sourwolf by AllTheseSquaresMakeACircle

(29/29 I 94,918 I Explicit I Sterek)

Stiles is used to being second tier in everyone's life. How easily people forget him and move on to bigger and better things. Used to always being in someone's shadow. Leave it to Derek Hale to shatter those expectations.

#teen wolf #sterek #stiles stilinski #derek hale #scent kink #anon #Anonymous

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roman-catholic-mass-readings · 3 years

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16th November >> Mass Readings (USA)

Monday, Thirty Third Week in Ordinary Time

Saint Margaret of Scotland

Saint Gertrude, Virgin.

Monday, Thirty Third Week in Ordinary Time

(Liturgical Colour: Green)

First Reading

Revelation 1:1-4; 2:1-5

Realize how far you have fallen and repent.

The revelation of Jesus Christ, which God gave to him, to show his servants what must happen soon. He made it known by sending his angel to his servant John, who gives witness to the word of God and to the testimony of Jesus Christ by reporting what he saw. Blessed is the one who reads aloud and blessed are those who listen to this prophetic message and heed what is written in it, for the appointed time is near.

John, to the seven churches in Asia: grace to you and peace from him who is and who was and who is to come, and from the seven spirits before his throne.

I heard the Lord saying to me: “To the angel of the Church in Ephesus, write this:

“‘The one who holds the seven stars in his right hand and walks in the midst of the seven gold lampstands says this: “I know your works, your labor, and your endurance, and that you cannot tolerate the wicked; you have tested those who call themselves Apostles but are not, and discovered that they are impostors. Moreover, you have endurance and have suffered for my name, and you have not grown weary. Yet I hold this against you: you have lost the love you had at first. Realize how far you have fallen. Repent, and do the works you did at first. Otherwise, I will come to you and remove your lampstand from its place, unless you repent.”’”

The Word of the Lord

R/ Thanks be to God.

Responsorial Psalm

Psalm 1:1-2, 3, 4 and 6

R/ Those who are victorious I will feed from the tree of life.

Blessed the man who follows not

the counsel of the wicked

Nor walks in the way of sinners,

nor sits in the company of the insolent,

But delights in the law of the Lord

and meditates on his law day and night.

R/ Those who are victorious I will feed from the tree of life.

He is like a tree

planted near running water,

That yields its fruit in due season,

and whose leaves never fade.

Whatever he does, prospers.

R/ Those who are victorious I will feed from the tree of life.

Not so the wicked, not so;

they are like chaff which the wind drives away.

For the Lord watches over the way of the just,

but the way of the wicked vanishes.

R/Those who are victorious I will feed from the tree of life.

Gospel Acclamation

John 8:12

Alleluia, alleluia.

I am the light of the world, says the Lord;

whoever follows me will have the light of life.

Alleluia, alleluia.

Gospel

Luke 18:35-43

What do you want me to do for you? Lord, please let me see.

As Jesus approached Jericho a blind man was sitting by the roadside begging, and hearing a crowd going by, he inquired what was happening. They told him, “Jesus of Nazareth is passing by.” He shouted, “Jesus, Son of David, have pity on me!” The people walking in front rebuked him, telling him to be silent, but he kept calling out all the more, “Son of David, have pity on me!” Then Jesus stopped and ordered that he be brought to him; and when he came near, Jesus asked him, “What do you want me to do for you?” He replied, “Lord, please let me see.” Jesus told him, “Have sight; your faith has saved you.” He immediately received his sight and followed him, giving glory to God. When they saw this, all the people gave praise to God.

The Gospel of the Lord

R/ Praise to you, Lord Jesus Christ.

—————————

Saint Margaret of Scotland

(Liturgical Colour: White)

(Readings for the memorial)

(There is a choice today between the readings for the ferial day (Monday) and those for the memorial. The ferial readings are recommended unless pastoral reasons suggest otherwise)

First Reading

Isaiah 58:6-11

Sharing your bread with the hungry.

Thus says the Lord:

This is the fasting that I wish:

releasing those bound unjustly,

untying the thongs of the yoke;

Setting free the oppressed,

breaking every yoke;

Sharing your bread with the hungry,

sheltering the oppressed and the homeless;

Clothing the naked when you see them,

and not turning your back on your own.

Then your light shall break forth like the dawn,

and your wound shall quickly be healed;

Your vindication shall go before you,

and the glory of the Lord shall be your rear guard.

Then you shall call, and the Lord will answer,

you shall cry for help, and he will say: Here I am!

If you remove from your midst oppression,

false accusation and malicious speech;

If you bestow your bread on the hungry

and satisfy the afflicted;

Then light shall rise for you in darkness,

and the gloom shall become for you like midday;

Then the Lord will guide you always

and give you plenty even on the parched land.

He will renew your strength,

and you shall be like a watered garden,

like a spring whose water never fails.

The Word of the Lord

R/ Thanks be to God.

Responsorial Psalm

Psalm 112:1-2, 3-4, 5-6, 7-8, 9