#i need to WANT to write several thousand words tomorrow. i need to crave it. pls.

[snorlaxlovesme]

okay i have all day tomorrow. no plans. and i will be alone bc my sister will be gone for a good portion of the day. i need someone to cast a spell on me to make me excited and willing to write pls

[asset35-maya]

I am sleepy but I gotta make a request before the busy tomorrow so 2 things on my mind! Sleepy and the 'oh my god they were roomates' vine xD with any characters and aus I love everything you write anyways xD Happy timezones and best vibes your way >^<!! 💖💞💕💕

Oh my god, they were roommates…

//

“The rental market in Detroit is absolute shit! How dare these bloodsuckers charge such high rates for the most under-developed properties! This city’s going to the dogs!”

“Uh-huh.”

“You have to pay your own weight in gold just to live in a shoebox for a year. Nonsense!”

“Uh…”

“Are you even listening to me, Tina!

Tina?

Goddamnit Tina!”

Gavin thumped his fist on her desk, but Tina’s eyes barely flicked up from her phone.

“Oh my god, you sound like my grandpa…”

Gavin turned red and his brain buzzed with a thousand colourful retorts. He was just about to pick one when Tina stopped scrolling and turned her phone screen towards him.

CYBERSCALIA @ NEW JERICHO

The suburban paradise for executive androids and humans alike. Located 25 minutes drive from downtown Detroit, with a full amenities.

Gavin’s eyes widened to the size of dinner plates. He balked at her.

“You’re joking? How could I possibly…?”

“Get with the times, boomer…”

Tina lazily skimmed her thumb over the screen. The webpage promised plenty of greenery, good infrastructure and modest but spacious rooms. The extremely reasonable price tag was Gavin’s dream come true. He’d spent weeks apartment hunting in the wake of an early lease termination by his cantankerous landlord. Gavin knew he’d never find a better deal.

“Shit, this is so good, T! Why the phck does it have to be in that- that place!”

His friend arched a sceptical eyebrow.

“What place?”

“The Tincan ghetto!”

Tina smacked him on the arm. None too gently.

“It’s subsided public housing located in an android-friendly estate… because they’re the ones that need it most right now. And frankly, you seem to be in just as much need, so you should really get off that high horse.”

“Fine, fine. You’re right. I should seriously consider this place, even if my neighbours are gonna have more in common with my car than me. But damn, it seems a little too good to be true. There’s probably some fine print, hidden costs that’ll come out later.”

“Hmm… let’s see…”

Tina scrolled further and then let out a half-laugh. She held her phone up again.

“Nothing shady about the rates, but there is something you should know…”

At the risk of being called old again, Gavin squinted at the screen and read aloud.

“Bearing in mind the founding principles of New Jericho, all human occupants may only apply for tenancy in co-habitation with at least one android citizen of the United States of- JESUS PHCKING CHRIST! Absolutely not! I am not going to live with a plastic prick!”

//

Gavin had to get through half a bottle of wine before he could bear to scroll through the rental listings. Unlike other humans who had happily moved into New Jericho with their android friends or partners, he had to find an android who was also looking for a flatmate.

Some listings came from ardent supporters of Markus. These were the androids who wanted to ease the post-revolution transition by reaching out to humans. Some listings were put up by the android equivalent of frat boys. These individuals were clearly looking for someone on the fringes of human society, someone who could show them a good (if not illegal) time.

Other posts came from eccentric androids who craved company but had likely been rejected by their own kind. Gavin felt a strange twisting sensation, almost like pity, when he came across a post written entirely in third person by someone called Ralph.

He had almost given up hope when he came across a simple little listing for a two bedroom apartment in Cyberscalia.

RK900 #313 248 317 - 87: Seeking a neat, self-sufficient co-renter. Human or android, no preference. I spend most of my time working and will be out of your way for the better part of the day. I only ask for silence during my nighttime stasis cycles, timely payment of dues and upkeep of cleanliness.

Gavin sighed in relief.

//

“Your room is the first door on the left, mine is the second. The bathroom, laundry and kitchenette are shared, as is the living room. I scarcely find use for the latter, so you need not worry about my intruding on any of your social gatherings, or vice versa. As long as you adhere to the terms of the agreement, our paths will not cross much.”

The tall, stiff-necked android dropped a set of keys, both mechanical and digital, into Gavin’s open palm.

“Er thanks.. RK… sorry I forgot your full model number…”

“You may call me Nines. Although, I’d rather you didn’t call me much of anything. Now if you’ll excuse me.”

In a swish of black fabric, the android turned on his heel and disappeared into his room. Two rapid clicks indicated the shutting and locking of his door.

Gavin sighed and looked around the open-plan living room. It was nothing fancy, but it was far beyond any of the other properties he’d viewed in weeks of unsuccessful house-hunting.

He sat down on the simple black couch with a huff and contemplated his situation. He’d ended up where he’d truly never expected to go, but objectively speaking, things were good… barring the high-handed manner of his robot flatmate, but who gave a shit about that.

He pulled out his phone to text Tina his thanks.

//

“I can’t! I refuse to! It is a violation of my personal ethics and I will simply not take this assignment any further. Good day to you sir!”

Gavin nearly dropped his bowl of cereal one morning when his roommate burst out of his door and rushed into the open balcony.

He hadn’t seen Nines in days, which was perfectly normal. The android came and went at odd hours and made hardly any noise. It was almost like living alone. The only reminder of Nines’ presence was the sight of several dark shirts and trousers regularly hung out to dry on the rack above the washing machine.

Gavin set his bowl down and watched the android tightly grip the bars of the railing and take several unnecessary breaths to calm down. He’d seen deviant colleagues express emotion many times before, but this was the first time he witnessed such a potent mixture of rage and sorrow from a synthetic being.

Out of empathy, but mostly curiosity, Gavin approached cautiously.

“Hey Nines… is everything alright…?”

There was no response for several moments. Then Nines turned around with a grimace and hands held upwards in a placating gesture.

“I apologise for the disturbance. It was hypocritical of me to disrupt the very peace and quiet I demand of you.”

“Uh… no worries…? Are you okay?”

There was a flash of steel blue eyes.

Gavin kicked himself mentally as he realised too late that he’d broached uncharted territory. Their interactions didn’t extend beyond curt nods on the rare occasion they found each other in the same space. It was almost as if Nines engineered the lack of contact, which wouldn’t surprise Gavin at all if it were the case.

“I’m fine. I merely experienced some frustration with my work.”

Perhaps it was boredom, perhaps it was his usual lack of self-preservative instinct… Gavin threw caution to the winds.

“What do you actually do?”

Nines’ expression remained stoic but his LED went through a spectacular series of colours and flashes. His next words were reluctant.

“I’m a private investigator.”

“Oh shit! I’m actually a cop.”

Gavin pointed dumbly at himself and then let his hand drop when he saw absolutely no surprise cross the android’s face.

“I know. That’s why I let you stay with me.”

“For safety?”

“Certainly not for your fashion sense.”

“Wow okay, I didn’t think I’d be much protection for a big scary droid like you.”

Nines hummed dismissively and started to move out of the balcony, body language fully indicating the end of the conversation.

Unable to help himself for some strange reason, Gavin blurted out another ill-advised question.

“What pissed you off so much?”

Nines paused halfway through side-stepping the human. A thrill went through Gavin at the shards of ice he observed for the first time up close in Nines’ irises.

“If I tell you, will you promise to stop asking pointless questions?”

Gavin nodded earnestly, and frankly… rather foolishly.

“I helped a client gather evidence to initiate divorce proceedings on the grounds of infidelity. I provided ample photo and video evidence for his lawyers to work with. Now they want me to keep following the spouse to capture more details that could gear any future settlement in his favour.”

“So what’s your problem?”

“They’re offering me an incredible amount of cash to follow her 24/7. To stake out her workplace, her gym, her parent’s home. They want me to crouch under the window of the bedroom where her children sleep. I can do a lot of things, but not that. It’s deeply insulting that they even asked. That’s why I was so… pissed.”

Nines slipped past and was nearly back to his bedroom when Gavin spoke.

“I respect that.”

“I didn’t ask.”

“I know, but for real though, I think ethics are important in our line of work. Not just because of we need morals or a sense of right or wrong blablabla, but because we need… clarity.”

Silence floated through the hallway as Nines paused with a hand on his doorframe.

“Clarity?”

“Yeah, like a sense of direction. We don’t just take cases right-left-centre because they make us money. I mean, we could, and people do… but they never become specialists or experts of any kind. You gotta strategise if you want a career. Ethics helps with that. I think…”

Gavin wasn’t sure what made him say any of that. He was neither one for small talk, nor a man of many words… but something about Nines prompted that unusual level of introspective discourse.

“Sorry that was weird. Never mind.”

“That was actually… very astute.”

Their eyes met and Gavin could’ve sworn he saw the hint of a smile.

“It’s good to see that not all humans are as one-dimensional as I thought.”

The door clicked shut, but there was no locking sound.

//

Since the morning of Nines’ uncharacteristic outburst, the frequency of their encounters in the common areas of the apartment increased. Wordless nods became hellos, and hellos eventually became full sentences.

Not that he’d admit it, Gavin actually looked forward to enquiring about the android’s day and the cases he was working on. It was utterly fascinating to hear about legal investigations without the constraints of police procedure.

For his part, Nines would share as much as he had the patience to, before disappearing into the confines of his room. Though the time he spent outside steadily increased every day.

Another morning, while Gavin was making his coffee, Nines emerged from his room, still in his pyjamas and looking as livid as he had the time before. Gavin had never seen him in anything but crisply ironed businesswear. Before he could voice any concern, Nines stiffly asked Gavin to keep a lookout for a homicide suspect.

He nodded and immediately reached for his phone to text the sergeant on duty at his station. By midday, there was an arrest.

That evening, when Gavin settled in front of the TV with his usual glass of wine, he heard the familiar sound of Nines’ door opening. The couch dipped beside him.

“Thank you.”

“Just did my job. I should thank you for the tip.”

“Hmm.”

Gavin chanced a glance at his roommate, and found him looking right back.

“What?”

“Nothing… I just had the realisation that much of my work is impotent without the authority and means to take any kind of action.”

The sitcom began to play and Gavin thumbed the remote to reduce the volume.

“Takes all kinds to keep the streets clean. PIs can do things cops can’t. We rely on guys like you for intel all the time, you know.”

“I know.”

No words were exchanged for a while thereafter. Gavin found himself unable to focus on the TV show with all the brooding energy emanating from his right.

“If you feel like being a private eye doesn’t make enough of a difference, then why didn’t you… um… you know…”

“Join law enforcement?”

“Yup.”

“Plenty of my fellow androids have done so. I know for a fact that my predecessor model chose to remain there. You might know him.”

“Connor? Yes. Very annoying.”

“He is, isn’t he?”

“Totally. But why didn’t you join too? You’d be brilliant on the Force.”

“My skillset is certainly well-suited, but I didn’t want to become another puppet of the state.”

Gavin really didn’t know what to say to that. He nodded uncertainly and looked back at the television. He wasn’t sure why Nines was suddenly this social.

“What are you… watching?”

Androids could scan and detect just about anything in the world, so there had to be something else to the question. Gavin, strangely, was happy to oblige.

//

Nines made an appearance every evening, without fail. He would sit through the TV shows if they were of interest, or he would bring his case material and notes to the coffee table to work in silence beside Gavin.

Sometimes Gavin liked to work on jigsaw puzzles on the dining table. Nines would sit beside him, pretending to read a paperback novel, but actually scanning the puzzle and passing the right pieces over from time to time.

Against all odds, an evening ritual and a tentative friendship developed. It was simple, but it was warm. Comfortable. Like nothing Gavin had ever had before, even with humans.

//

He awoke one morning with a slight crick in his neck but the feeling of being very well-rested.

His eyes flickered open and fell upon the window. Familiar greenery came into view… but wait… had everything slightly shifted to the left? And was that the New Jericho Capitol building? He couldn’t see that from his room! There was a tree in the way! A tree that was now a few feet away from where it used to be.

Gavin sat up in alarm as he realised that he was not in his own bed. His heart flew into his throat as Nines walked through the open doorway. Shirtless and carrying a mug of blue liquid.

“Oh good, you’re up.”

“Wha-what happened!?”

Nines frowned and sat down on the edge of the bed. He set the mug on the floor and pulled on a plain black t-shirt.

“You passed out on the couch last night. I think you finished a whole bottle waiting up for me? Sorry, I was out working later than expected.”

Gavin looked down and sighed in relief as he found all his clothes still on him.

“I didn’t want you to injure yourself sleeping at an odd angle so I brought you here. Your door was locked.”

“You could’ve easily opened it.”

“Yes, but that would’ve been an invasion of privacy. I reserve that for working hours alone.”

Gavin looked deep into the sparkling blue eyes and as usual found no trace of humour.

“Thanks…”

“Don’t mention it. Now get out. You’re ruining my silk sheets.”

//

Against his best efforts, Gavin could not keep the thought of being carried to bed and tucked in safely out of his mind. How many years had it been? Since something like that had been even remotely possible for him?

He knew that Nines was just being kind in his own pragmatic little way… but Gavin found that he wouldn’t mind the prospect of waking up in the android’s bed in a wildly different context.

He realised he had it bad when Tina caught him smiling to himself at work one day.

“Why so happy?”

“Oh… nothing. Just remembered something my roommate did… He’s a… funny guy.”

“Huh. Well, look at you getting along so well with androids.”

“Android. Singular. Just him.”

“Wowwww… he sounds special.”

//

“Who did this?”

“Gavin, the damage is merely superficial-”

“Who phcking did this??!”

He reached forward and gingerly touched Nines’ split cheek. His synth skin was smeared with blue blood and glitching in and out. Nines winced at the contact.

“Shit, sorry. That must hurt like a bitch.”

“Androids do not feel pain.”

“Bullshit.”

“I’m merely experiencing a surge in sensory input wherever my chassis is exposed. I’m fine.”

“Shut up and give me your first aid kit or whatever toolbox equivalent you tincans have.”

A shade of embarrassment appeared over the android’s features.

“I… actually don’t have one. I didn’t think I’d ever need it.”

“Didn’t think anyone could kick your ass, huh?”

“No… I didn’t think anyone would ever spot my hiding place.”

“Huh. How’d that happen?”

Nines’ eyes dipped, but as always, he answered the question.

“I was… distracted.”

Something in the air solidified and both of them felt it. Gavin cleared his throat and slapped his knees like an old man about to stand up.

“Right. Let me go check if the neighbours have anything that might help with your face.”

//

“So who’s this dapper young gent you’ve brought to the party, Gavin?”

“Er… he’s my uh… roommate.”

Captain Fowler nodded and winked.

“That’s what they called it in my day too.”

Nines shifted beside Gavin and cleared his throat.

“He’s a PI. But I think he’s wasting his talent taking pictures of cheating spouses. He’s quite interested in police work. Maybe we could get him to assist on a couple cases now and then?”

Fowler put down his drink and extended a warm hand to Nines.

//

“Oh thank RA9!”

Nines came running to the cluster of police cars and enveloped him in a giant hug. Gavin laughed as he patted him weakly on the back.

“Watch the ribs, big guy.”

“I was so worried.”

“Why? Your info was good. No chance of error.”

“I meant about you.”

Gavin pulled back and regarded Nines with confusion. The flashing red and blue lights of the cars made it hard to read his LED.

“Why?”

“I can’t believe you have to ask.”

The android pulled him into a bruising kiss. The officers standing nearby broke into wolf-whistles and applause.

“What the-”

“Oh I take full credit for that, sir.”

Fowler glanced at Tina.

“The case, Chen?”

“Oh of course. I solved the whole thing. But I mean that specifically.”

She waved a hand in Gavin and Nines’ direction. The two held each other tightly and seemed unlikely to come up for air anytime soon.

“Like I helped Gav find an affordable place in New Jericho and then he met this handsome investigator droid and they were roommates.”

“Oh my god, they were roommates…”

“Yeah legit.”

//

\\\

Thanks so much for the request @jude-shotto

This ended up being a lot longer than expected, but I couldn’t help it. Your prompt just took me on a whole journeyyyy <3

[sociallyawkward--fics]

[image ID: two asks from @amazingmsme. The first one reads, “Hi I love your writing & I live & breathe witcher stuff right now, & I am fucking CRAVING some jealous Geralt, it’s all I can think about! I was hoping you could write a fic where Geralt takes Jaskier to Kaer Morhen & the other witchers take a shine to Jaskier. Too much of a shine if you ask Geralt. & Eskel & Lambert start to notice & start being really friendly with him & watching Geralt’s reactions & are lowkey teasing him & of course Coën joins in too. & Geralt is snappy & kinda possessive 1/2″

The second ask reads, “& at first Jaskier is oblivious to what’s going on but picks up on something being off. But he likes the attention the other witchers give him & enjoy their company. & the other witchers are just goading Geralt to dO SOMETHING cause it’s obvious they like each other, & he’s never been good with his emotions + it’s fun to rile him up. They can smell the love & jealousy & they love to mess with him. I just need jealous pinning Geralt & the others teasing the fuck out of him while Jaskier’s obvious.”]

----------------

I honestly cannot remember when I received these asks, but it was close to a year ago now at least, if not longer. I started working on it a few months after I got it, in May of 2020, and it went from a several thousand word oneshot to an over 30K chaptered fic, which is why it took me nearly ten months to write lol.

BUT! It is finally finished!

Weak and Wanting will begin posting tomorrow evening, on March 16th, and since it’s complete you can actually rely on me to keep up my posting schedule for once lol. If all goes according to plan, a new chapter should come out every 5 days.

Anyways, this was just a little announcement to let you all know that the fic was coming out, and to finally post these asks that I’ve been hoarding for literal ages now lol. Hope you all enjoy the fic when you see it!!

[xenteaart]

Diplomacy Failure

Summary: The Master and you have an established friendship, a bromance - you’re basically partners in crime. One day the Master comes up with this grand robbery scheme but it takes him months to plan the whole thing out properly, and by the end of it - he’s getting way too impatient and reckless. That’s where you step in.

Warnings: none, pure fluff again

Pairing: Dhawan!Master x Reader

Note: This was supposed to be a short thing so I decided not to create a whole ass backstory around it. The main reason why I wanted to write this was because I usually see MC being mostly submissive in fics (not that there’s anything wrong with it whatsoever) and I craved some diversity so here it goesss. 

Huge thanks and lots of love to my incredible beta @wonders-of-the-multiverse​ i love you to bits <3

The last few months have been hard to say the least. After years of knowing the Master you’d grown accustomed to his severe mood swings, but this was something else. 

Most of the time you never really bothered to get to know all the details of his typically complex and intricate schemes. You simply trusted him with those and did what he asked you to do, not taking any liberty to make your own decisions because he did know better. He was the one spending restless days and nights planning everything out after all, so you never really questioned anything. Until today. 

He was getting impatient and it wasn’t a good thing at all. 

The Master had an impressive set of skills, the ability to wait and execute slow-burn plans exceptionally well being one of them. However this time, he got way too invested in what he was doing, his near obsession leading you to believe it had something to do with the Doctor in the long run.

As for now, he needed to get his hands on something “very valuable and very important” and he was planning to steal it, of course. It was no common robbery though, the ship you were now finding yourselves on was huge. No, massive, so simply threatening a few creatures with his TCE and acquiring the object wasn’t a viable option. The ship’s obscenely advanced security systems were not working in your favor either.

The two of you were pretending to be a regular married couple, mere visitors to the event and so painfully ordinary in your nature as to not draw any attention. Keeping a low profile was essential.

The Master called from somewhere below the console where corridors led to the wardrobe room, and since you weren’t occupied with anything even remotely important you joined him right away. You were happy to merely see him and talk to him considering he now preferred the company of a thousand papers with all sorts of layouts, schemes, his own scribbles and something else in Gallifreyan that you had no way of understanding. 

“What’s that?” you asked, a little taken aback by his excessively fancy suit. 

“Your dress is right there, try it on and see if it fits,” he said casually as he looked in the mirror, ignoring your question and waving his hand at the sophisticated purple dress that was laid out on a nearby sofa. 

Ah. Matching outfits. He could never resist the drama of it.

You looked at the dress, the decoration on it exquisite and lavish. A quiet sigh escaped your lips as you tried not to laugh too loudly.

“If that’s for tomorrow, we’re not wearing that.” you uttered, not even trying to hide your amused grin at this point.

“What? Why?”

“Because we need to be wearing this,” you pointed at a horrendous blue suit and a dress of the matching color, the shade and design of both so ugly and simplistic that the clothing wouldn’t look good on either of you. 

A displeased frown flitted across the Master’s features.

“Come on, we need to look pitiful. Men of wealth love playing charity and chatting with lower class people, helping them out with whatever. It makes them feel better about themselves, boosts their ego.” you elaborated, your words heavily accompanied by expressive hand waving and vocal shifts.

He blinked a couple of times and looked at himself in the mirror again, trying to make peace with the idea of this fashion crime you were both about to commit.

The first step of his plan was relatively easy - he was doing the networking and you were doing the smiling as the two of you were slowly getting closer and closer to higher rank guests that were usually a little too drunk and clueless to not accidentally give away the information you needed most, that being - where the security control room was located. Getting a sample of some rich and wasted guest’s DNA was also part of the job since they all had unlimited access to all parts of this ship. As of now, you were getting a feeling you were never even going to make it to that point. 

The Master wasn’t very good at tolerating stupidity, especially when nobody knew and feared who he was. To all of these arrogant and self-absorbed upper class assholes, he was literally a peasant. Little did they know. 

You could see his hand playing with the TCE in his pocket as he was seriously considering whether to take it out and end this shitshow here and now. That would probably feel really good for a couple of minutes but then both of you would be captured and very likely executed on the spot because no matter how intimidating and dangerous the Master was - the quantity of creatures on the ship would be an undeniable advantage on their side. Plus, he’d spent so much time on plan A, there wasn’t any room for plan B, you figured.

Granted, dying wasn’t something the Master was ever afraid of. But you were human with no spare lives, so his impatience would mean very bad news for you.

“Don’t you want to take a break from this?” you asked timidly, standing in the doorway and not daring to let yourself into the Master’s working space just yet since knocking on the door did nothing to catch his attention. 

He was rapidly glancing all over the papers, his mind being evidently busy with something of more significance than your presence. 

“I can get you some coffee if you like? Or... anything at all, really,” you made another attempt at starting a conversation but it was met with silence once again, except this time you noticed hints of irritation in the way he was making notes and moving things around his table, mercilessly digging his pen into his notebook and purposely making a lot more noise while searching for something buried under these piles of paper.

“Yeah, no worries then.” you sighed as you saw yourself out of the room. 

You were getting fed up with this.

As you were standing next to him and contemplating your options, you felt the air around you change a little. It was an insignificant shift but you were particularly sensitive to emotional fields people and other creatures tended to create, and right now the atmosphere did not feel friendly.

You looked at the Master and then back at the greenish humanoid looking creature he was talking to. The conflict was clearly starting to develop, filling the space around you with tension and unease. 

You were so close to the control room, you couldn’t let that happen. There were only a few more floors you had to pass in order to get to the royalty hall where your main mission would be taking place. 

“For Christ’s sake.” you thought to yourself, recognizing the familiar burning anger in the Master’s eyes as he was slowly losing his already weak grasp on his temper and reaching for his pocket, his actions now fuelled with proper intention of making the man pay for his disrespect and bad manners.

The problem with the Master was - no matter how brilliant and clever his ideas were, his emotions and temper would always get in the way. You had to learn it the hard way by nearly getting killed a couple of times because of it in the past. But pissing off a few soldiers and running away was one thing, and acting hostile on a space station sized ship with no quick way out was a completely different story. 

“I am so sorry, sir, my husband suffers from this terrible condition,” you spoke as you looked at the Master intensely, doing your best to wordlessly communicate with him and beg him to stay silent, “where he gets unreasonably aggressive when he’s upset.”

The man’s expression was now plagued with confusion but it was a good sign, you thought. He was paying attention.

“He’s just frustrated we can’t yet afford to lead a life like yours, sir. Isn’t that right, darling?” you patted the Master on the back, your voice now so sugary sweet it made you want to vomit, but you were committed to your little act and nothing could stop you.

“Please forgive our jealousy, we simply wish to be more like you but it pains us to realize we’re a long way away from that,” saying this made your skin itch, and you were pretty sure the Master’s eye was twitching a little. You looked at him briefly and noted he was indeed… puzzled. 

Your flattery seemed to work wonders on the man’s self esteem, though, his facial expression momentarily switching to pity and its default arrogance mixed with pride. 

You tried not to make eye contact with the Master as you were escorting him away, your hand wrapped around his elbow. Your heart was beating a little too fast for your liking, and your main concern for now was peacefully leaving the floor and avoiding any more fuss on the way because, honestly, you were getting angry yourself.

---

“What the hell was that?” was the first thing he asked you as soon as you both entered the TARDIS safely, the two of you still slightly out of breath from your usual cardio on your way back; the desired object sitting securely in the Master’s pocket.

“I was actually going to ask you this exact same question, how convenient.” you snapped, kicking off your heels and making your way to the console barefoot, the cold metal floor having a soothing effect on your aching feet.

The Master gave you a grim look as he took off his ridiculous and evidently uncomfortable jacket, and swiftly marched towards you. His intimidating aura rarely had any impact on you and you didn’t even flinch at his intrusion of your personal space. You knew all too well he would never hurt you deliberately. 

“I did not allow you to intervene.” 

“You should have seen your face, darling,” you said mockingly, maintaining intense eye contact as if it was a competition on who looks away first. 

“You should have heard your voice, such sweetness and flattery I was worried you were gonna kiss his ring at the end of your speech or something,” he spat out his words with grimaced disgust. 

The two of you stared at each other in complete silence for about half a minute, and your facade dropped first. You burst into laughter, giggling obnoxiously at the memory of the Master’s pure and sincere confusion. You’d never seen him so baffled and mad, the funniest thing of it all being the fact that he had to comply and play along. It made you a little proud of yourself.

The corner of the Master’s lips twitched, his stubbornness and denial still fighting his urge to crack up, but a couple of moments later he finally joined you. Any trace of annoyance was long gone, and a wide smile took over his person as he laughed out loud with you. 

“Idiot.” he commented, still chuckling and grinning while also unbuttoning his lousy shirt. You both wanted to get out of those trashy clothes as soon as possible. 

You suddenly went quiet. With no further talking you simply stepped forwards and hugged the Master tightly, burying your nose in the crook of his neck.

“I’ve missed you.”

He hugged you back, resting one of his hands on your head and ruffling your hair, so very aware of how much you hated it. 

“Missed you too, fool.”

[coffee-obsessed-writer]

Best. Christmas. Ever.

Jensen x Reader

A/N: This is for @sorenmarie87 ‘s Christmas Writing Challenge. My dialogue prompt was “You invited how many people to Christmas Dinner?” along with the below aesthetic. This fic is a continuation of the Fated, Found, Forever series. You don’t HAVE to know that series to read this, though.

Summary: (Y/N) has been traveling for work more after she married Jensen, than ever before. Now that its Christmas time, she’s looking forward to a quiet, intimate holiday, until he springs the surprise that the whole family will be joining them after all.

Unbeta’ed - all errors are mine. Aesthetic below created by the amazing Dawn (tagged above), who put this challenge together <3

Warnings: Lots of fluff, surprise Christmas gifts, eh language I guess

Words: 9.3K

SPN Tags: @sorenmarie87 // @kazosa  // @lefthologramdeer // @grace-for-sale // @rockyhorrorpictureshowstyle // @geeksareunique // @moonchild-shoshanna // @tiquismiquis // @mrsbarnes-rogers  // @teller258316 // @spnhollis // @sweet-things-4-life // @hobby27 // @sweetlythoughtfulbird // @theoriginalvicki // @dreamchester67 // @xxwarhawk // @babykalika2001 // @negans-wife // @superwhovianfangirl81 // @toobusynerdfighting // @missihart23  // @letsby // @hyphymanatee // @idreamofplaid // @thewinchesterchronicles  // @wayward-gypsy  // @closetspngirl // @fatestemptress // @rebelminxy  // @22sarah08 // @witch-of-letters // @cole-winchester // @rainflowermoon // @adoptdontshoppets // @foreverwayward // @waywardvalkyrie // @a–1–1–3 // @fandomoniumflurry // @gnrfanfic // @blackcherrywhiskey // @jessieray98  // @lyoly

Christmas.

It was eight days before the overindulgent day when you found yourself somewhere outside of Chicago after yet another seminar you had to present to a hotel conference room of bored accountants and lawyers.

Starring up at the arrivals/departure board, you noticed that your flight back to Vancouver was delayed by at least two hours. Your entire body sighed with disappointment. Exhausted and desperate to be home didn’t begin to cover how you felt, but it was missing Jensen that killed you the most.

You had been married for just over a year and hadn’t seen much of each other in the months since returning from your honeymoon. When his filming schedule calmed down, your travel schedule seemed to pick up. The weekends you were home, were the weekends he was off to a convention or appearance somewhere else.

Even as much as you missed him and as hectic as your lives were, you wouldn’t change a thing. Splitting your time between Jensen’s places in Vancouver and Austin, and yours in the Northeast, wasn’t ideal, but you made it work and knew that it wasn’t going to be forever. You had worked hard to carve out a career in Tax Law, and with the amount you traveled, a dedicated home was desirable but just not practical. However, having the three places scattered across thousands of miles was beginning to be a logistical nightmare. As you sat in the airport, watching your flight be delayed even longer, all you craved in that moment was to be home. In YOUR home, one that you and Jensen dreamed of building together. More importantly, one that you could start a family in.

Frustrated and tired, you grabbed your carryon and began walking around the terminal in search of something to keep you busy. Walking around O’Hare International, you stumbled upon a little Duty-Free shop that had several holiday displays set up. You already had a few gifts for Jensen, but there was one more you needed to purchase. The only thing that stopped you thus far, was finding the right one and the time to search for it. This wasn’t something you just wanted to order online, this gift needed to be special and purchased by your own hand.

Thanks to your delayed flight, and that duty-free shop, you found it. Hanging all alone on the rack where it obviously didn’t belong, there it was. You grabbed it and the minute you held it in your hands, tears began to fill your eyes thanks to a cocktail of exhaustion, dehydration and pure emotional overload. Quickly making your purchase, you tucked the bag away in your carryon and found a quiet place to wait for your flight home.

  With the layover, flight time and traffic, you were standing outside the apartment door eight hours later. So very tired, hungry and irritable, you just wanted to shove something in your mouth and crash onto the bed. If Jensen was home, bonus, if not… that just meant more time to sleep.

The flight was a nightmare, as was dealing with customs and traffic to get home. Opening the door to your apartment, you were greeted by the familiar scent of your space, along with a deafening silence. Only the hallway was illuminated, along with the soft light over the kitchen sink. You took one glance around and knew that Jensen wasn’t home and hadn’t been for a while.

Up in the bedroom, you plugged in your cell and waited for the charge to take while you readied yourself for bed and snacked on the small bag of pretzels they provided you with on the plane. The cell had enough power to come to life just as you slipped into bed. Scrolling through all the notifications you missed, there were at least five calls from your husband, two from your best friend, Jill, and at least two texts from her husband, Filip.

“Good Lord,” you mumbled as you replied to him with a brief, yet life-affirming message so he wouldn’t think you were dead, just as you did with Jill. Both included a promise of a call tomorrow, but for tonight, you were spent.

The message from Jensen just confirmed what you already figured. Had been on set for a crazy number of hours and was crashing at Jared’s for the brief respite they had before having to get back the next morning. Too tired to do more than move your eyes across the screen of your phone, you sent him a simple text that read:

 Got your message. You work too hard, you know that? Tell Jar I say hey. Home safe now, I love you.

 With that, you put the phone back on the nightstand and slept for the next twelve hours straight.

  Waking to midafternoon light was rattling. Jumping between time zones the way you had been, and being as tired as you were of late, it was no wonder you didn’t know where you were at first. It took more than a minute or two to remember that you were finally home, in the bed you shared with Jensen even though he wasn’t there.

Christmas… seven days away now.

You still had one more trip to make before the holiday, and you weren’t looking forward to it. After that, it was smooth sailing until after New Year’s, and that was something you were very much looking forward too. You’d return home the day before Christmas Eve, then you and Jensen could have a nice, quiet Christmas just like you desperately wanted. One where you could give him his special gift.

Noise from downstairs caught your ear. You slipped out of bed and into your robe before cautiously heading to the kitchen. The television was on low in the living room and the small fireplace was ablaze with warm flames lapping against the thin glass doors. Jensen came from around the corner, slightly startled by seeing you there.

“Hey gorgeous,” he said, an instant, wide grin plastered to his face. “Thought you’d never wake up.”

In dramatic fashion, you threw your arms around his neck and squeezed as he lifted you off the ground in a grand embrace.

“Two weeks is way too long,” he growled before kissing you swiftly and with purpose. He had you up by the waist, your legs wrapped around his midsection as he walked you back into a wall. If not for the deep rumble in your stomach, clothes would have started flying off in all directions. But even he couldn’t deny the cries of hunger radiating from your gut as you both started to laugh during its relentless complaining.

“When was the last time you ate, woman? Don’t they feed you at these borventions you have to go to?”

“Oh my God, put me down, you dork… Borventions? Really? You’re losing your touch, Jay.”

He put you down and shrugged unapologetically. “I can’t help that they put me to sleep. I honestly don’t know how you can wrap your head around all that stuff.”

You rolled your eyes at him and headed straight to the refrigerator only to find it nearly empty. “Damn,” you mumbled and turned back to him. “Are you due back on set soon?”

“Nope, I am all yours until you have to leave again. Sorry, food’s scarce. Go get ready and we’ll go out to your favorite place to eat.”

“Are you going to judge me for what I order this time?” you asked, narrowly eyeing him and raising one brow in question.

“Me? Never.”

“Right….”

“I swear, if you want to eat that disgusting concoction called disco fries, my love, you do you and I will support you with every bite.”

“Well, here its’ called poutine, but yeah… they’re delicious and you’re just wrong for not liking it.”

“I’ll refrain… Cross my heart,” he said and mimicked the gesture.

“I’m holding you to that, mister.”

  An hour later you were happily seated in your favorite booth and giving the waitress your order, a turkey club sandwich with a side of disco fries and large cherry coke. Once she was off with the orders, Jensen reached across the table asking for both of your hands. You loved how his fingers felt curled up against yours, the warmth of them enveloping your entire hand.

“When do you leave again?” he asked, not meeting your gaze, but keeping it firmly on the twisted knot of your entangled fingers. The light bounced off of your wedding and engagement rings, catching his eye and eliciting that soft, reflective smile he had that you loved so much.

“Tomorrow afternoon. My flight for Buffalo leaves at three. It’s only a two-day conference, but the flights back suck. I have a layover in Vegas for three or four hours before I get a flight back to Vancouver. I should be back on the twenty-third sometime in the morning by around nine or ten.”

“Jesus,” he moaned under his breath. “No wonder you’re so beat. You say I work too much, but really…” He shrugged and tilted his head to the side. “Have you given any more thought to what we talked about?” He finally lifted his gaze to meet yours.

You easily communicated your answer through your expression… not now, okay? He shrugged it off and forced a smile.

“Hon, you don’t have to work. You know that. If you want time off or, to do the thing we talked about—”

“YOU talked about.”

“Whatever. My point is that you have other things you want to do with your life, right? Giving seminars on—honestly, I don’t even know what you talk about at these things—but, you don’t have to do it if it’s too much or you don’t love it anymore.”

“I’ve never loved it, Jensen. Not exactly like this was the dream job, ya know? It was a practical way to support myself.”

“That’s my point, (Y/N). You did the career thing to support yourself thing. Now, maybe its time to chase your passion. Find something else that really speaks to you.”

“Something that keeps me home more?”

Jensen shrugged, the little crinkles around his eyes appearing as his sheepish smile grew. “Maybe.”

“I promise to seriously think about it, okay? But not until after the new year. After this trip, its vacation time and I cannot wait to spend a quiet Christmas with you at home, then ring in the new year Gatsby style at Jared and Gen’s party.”

“Mmmhmm. And I can’t wait to see you in that Gatsby style dress,” Jensen teased, raising his eyebrows suggestively.

“Perv.”

“You love me for it,” he challenged, just as the waitress was returning with your orders.

Once she placed them down, Jensen drew in a deep breath. “Speaking of Christmas… there was a slight, last minute change in plans.”

You gradually lifted your face from inhaling your turkey club and starred at him. “What kind of change?” you asked through a mouthful of food.

“Well…” he started and cleared his throat. “Funny story. I told my mom how we were just chillin’ in Vancouver and she sorta lost it. So, I invited some people to dinner.”

“Um, some people?” a bit of disappointment was steadily growing in your gut, right along with a swell of nausea at the thought of having to host a big dinner for your in-laws.

“My folks insisted we come there, or they come up. So, I said, alright I’ll fly you up. That turned into my brother and sister coming, too. Jared and Gen will be up this way with the kids, so they’re coming. Oh, and Gen’s mo—”

“You invited how many people over for Christmas dinner?!”

Jensen did some quick math in his head then laughed nervously when he saw your expression. He picked up his burger and let it hover by his mouth. “Including us… and everyone’s kids… twenty-five,” he mumbled before taking a huge bite.

Your appetite was suddenly gone. Pushing the coveted plate of disco fries away from you, you slumped back into the booth and sighed. Jensen’s face fell, and you immediately regretted your reaction.

“I’m sorry Jay, really. I think its great we are going to have family and friends up for Christmas. I guess I was just hoping to have you to myself.”

“I know. I was too. I promise you will we have time just for us. After not seeing you for two weeks, and now another week, I want that more than anything. Baby, I promise… we will make time, okay?”

He reached across the table and you gave him your hand along with a forced, accepting smile. “Okay. It’s gonna be great. Twenty-five people... at the apartment,” you finally replied, the last words trailing off at the thought of cramming that many people in.

“Oh, no. That won’t happen. I’ll kill someone. No, no, no,” he chuckled and wiped his lips with the napkin. “I rented a place for everyone to meet up at, up on Grouse Mountain. Gorgeous place. Big old ski chalet that has five bedrooms up in the main house, and then two smaller cabins out on the property. We’ll be able to fit everyone comfortably, have a great Christmas. The best part is, I have all the food handled already.”

You were blown away by everything he had accomplished and was able to keep quiet about. “Wow, Jay, I’m amazed. It sounds like its going to be a really picturesque kind of Christmas.” Giving his hand a squeeze, you tried to make sure your expression looked enthusiastic about all the arrangements. When really, all you felt was tired, disappointed and already mentally spent from the amount of socializing that would be taking place again over the next week, then through Christmas vacation.

  The week carried on without much fanfare. After a wonderful, but far too quick respite home with Jensen, you took off for the last convention series of the year. Getting through those few days was the easy part. There was one day of travel, two days of seminars and a total of two thousand tax attorneys and accountants from across the Tri-State area that filed into Buffalo. The hard part was trying to get home.

Arriving back at the airport, it was now two days before Christmas. Christmas Eve, Eve, as you used to call it. The airport was a bustling madhouse, even worse than O’Hare the week before. Flights were delayed for hours thanks to a lingering snowstorm which just added to the normal amount of delays that occurred that time of year.

Your plan of arriving back in Vancouver in time to head up to the cabin with Jensen was dead in the water. Everything inside you wanted to just curl up and cry. But since that wasn’t an option, you made the regrettable call, then found a quiet corner to sit and resigned yourself to the long wait.

Rifling through your carryon to find your book, you came across the bag you had shoved in there containing Jensen’s special gift. Just touching the bag made you smile. The more you thought of him and the life you’d forged so far, the more of the curmudgeonly temperament you had towards his big family Christmas, faded.

You knew when you married him, you would be sharing him with not only with his fans, but his friends and family, too. It was something you knew you would have to get used to. However, for this Christmas, you had built up the idea of a quiet holiday, something just for the two of you to share.

No such luck. Yet, the more you thought about him, and how much you loved him, you suddenly didn’t care if there were two, or twenty-five people sat around the tree that Christmas morning. It would still be a beautiful, special day because he would be next to you. Really, that’s all that mattered.

The flight back to Vancouver felt like it took an eternity. But when you touched down and was finally able to deplane, grab your bags and head towards the exit, it was all but forgotten when you spotted a driver holding a sign with your name on it.

“Mrs. Ackles?” he asked as you approached him with a weary smile.

“Um, yes. That’s me.”

“Your husband arranged for me to pick you up and take you directly up to the cabin. Why don’t you take a moment to confirm with him, and I’ll be happy to take your bags for you.”

There was no way to hide the grin that took over your face as you dug for your phone and sent him a text. You knew it had to have been him that arranged for the car. He was always on you to check with him when it came to that. Because, according to him, ‘you can never be too careful’.

 (Y/N): You really sent a driver?

J: I did.

(Y/N): Don’t trust me driving?

J: Nope. You suck at traveling and getting anywhere on time. Come on, get here already woman. I miss you.

(Y/N): Be there soon. Miss you too. So much.

 “Alright, let’s go!” you said, tucking the phone away, “After you, my good man,” and followed the driver out of the airport and into the sleek, black Land Rover that was meant to escort you up to the mountain chalet.

 About an hour later you arrived at the place Jensen had arranged for all the families to meet up at for Christmas. The driver turned up a long, winding driveway that had been cleared of snow just enough for the Rover to make it to the top. Your breath caught in your throat when you saw the beautifully illuminated chalet, whose many peaks rose high up into the backdrop of shadowed mountains and a dark, star-studded sky.

There were multiple cars scattered throughout the generously sized parking area, but the house itself was quiet and void of any movement. The driver brought your bags to the front door and waited for you there, but you were too much in awe of the amazing place Jensen chose to spend Christmas in.

“Ma’am?” he called, pulling your attention back, “would you care for me to bring this inside for you?” he asked, holding up the key Jensen must have given him.

“No, thank you, I can manage.” From your coat pocket you pulled out the tip you tucked away earlier and wished him a Merry Christmas.

Slipping the key into the lock, you pushed the massive wood door open and instantly fell in love. Soft lights were on throughout the first-floor foyer, great room, and formal dining area. In the corner of the great room, and opposite the grand flagstone fireplace was a Christmas tree at least eight feet high. It was adorned with variously shaped gold and silver ornaments and illuminated with soft white lights that reflected the shimmer of the glass icicles that were scattered around the tree. At the top stood a rustic-gold and glass, Texas-star that lit up from the inside, with a mix of wide, gold and silver, glitter-lined ribbons cascading from just below the topper and fell in loose loops to the bottom of the tree.

The entire place smelled of gingerbread and the remnants of the fire that had since fallen into embers. Both of which were pleasant and rather comforting. Though it wasn’t your home, it felt like someone’s home and you thought maybe this all wouldn’t be so bad. The more you looked around, you realized that everyone must be asleep already. No one heard you come in and there was no noise coming from any of the doors. Not wanting to wake anyone up, you took out your phone and texted Jensen.

 (Y/N): I’m here. Wanna give a girl a hint as to which room is ours?

 Nothing. The message sat as delivered, but not read.

“Damn,” you mumbled under your breath, assuming he must have fallen asleep.

You went back through the kitchen and towards the main staircase. Halfway up, you heard one of the doors from downstairs open and turned to go back down. Just as you rounded the corner to go back towards the kitchen, you were greeted by the very welcome sight of your best friend, Jill.

“What are you doing here?!” you wanted to scream but managed to keep the volume of excitement to a rough whisper.

“Your husband invited us! We were supposed to be a surprise,” she said and pouted her lips. “Sorry… surprise!” She held up her hands in a ���here we are!’ gesture.

You pulled her into a happy embrace and felt a bit of relief that you would have your best ally with you for Christmas. “I can’t believe he didn’t tell me.”

“Well, I told him not too. I wanted to be a surprise. I can’t remember the last time we were together for Christmas.”

“Its been too long. I am really, really glad you guys are here.”

“Me too. Even the old man was excited.”

“Wow. Now that’s a Christmas miracle in itself,” you teased. “So, while I would love to play catch up, I am so tired from this fucking flying nonsense that I just wanna crash. Any idea as to which room my husband may be residing in? He must have fallen asleep and I really didn’t want to resort to a room check. The idea of peaking in on my in-laws while they sleep… super creepy.”

Jill laughed with a snort. “Yeah, that sounds like him. They’re all upstairs. He’s down here with us.”

You raised an inquisitive brow. “I’m sorry, what?”

“Across the hall, dummy,” she replied with a slight roll of her eyes. “He was supposed to be waiting up for you, but he was wiped, you could tell. He put all of this together, today.” She waved her hand towards the great room and the decorations that were sprinkled throughout the whole place.

“What? Seriously?”

“Yeah. When we got here this afternoon, he was finishing up the tree. I know he did it alone because we were the first ones here. All his family showed up after us. And I think Jared and Gen are down in the one cabin with the kids. They came up briefly, but again, wasn’t until after.”

“Wow…” you mused softly taking it all in again. “He’s pretty great, huh?”

“Yeah. He is. So, down the hallway, door to the right. I’m getting a drink and heading off myself. Catch up more tomorrow?”

“Wouldn’t miss it.”

You hugged her again, grabbed your carryon bag and headed down to the room where Jensen was presumably sleeping.

When you opened the door, you found him sitting up in bed, his head drooped to one side and a book open on his chest. He was snoring quietly, one hand still pressed to the cover, the other laying in his lap. Closing the door behind you and making sure to set the lock, you went to move the book from his hand and realized it was the latest book by Jill’s alter ego, Willow Bainbridge, that was not-yet-released to the public. You opened the flap and saw her inscription to him.

 To my biggest fan, Jensen. Thanks for the notes on this, your input was invaluable to making it happen.

Merry Christmas from your biggest fan,

Jill

 He must have been in his glory, you thought and stifled a giggle as you closed it carefully and placed it on your nightstand.

Quietly, you removed most of your clothes, leaving only your white cami that you wore under your blouse and a pair of pink, silk underwear. Cautiously, trying not to wake him, you straddled his lap and bent down to his kiss neck. It was your favorite way to wake him up. The moment your lips pressed against his skin, you felt his hands dragging up your legs and come to rest on the highest part of your thigh. A deep groan rumbled from his throat as he tilted his neck to the side, giving you more access to that part of him.

Smiling through the soft, lingering kisses on his neck, you trailed your lips up to his ear. “I’m finally here.”

“About time,” he rasped, his tone still weary from sleep. In one fell swoop, he gripped you tightly and rolled you over so you were on your back with the weight of him hovering over you. “Hi,” he said, his eyes smiling, while he licked his lips in anticipation of yours.

“Hi right back.”

That was it, the only formal greeting you needed or wanted. Less than a minute later, the remaining clothes were discarded about the room and your hands and mouths did any further talking that was needed. He took his time and made sure that he covered every inch of you with the same attention that he paid the part before. Never rushing, despite the exhaustion you both felt. When he was finally ready to come inside you, your nails digging into the flesh on his back, his head buried in the comfort of your hair and neck, he called your name over and over with a vibration of passion that only he ever brought out in you.

After, when you were laying together, happily dozing with your head on his chest, and his hand in your hair, all the stress and worry about Christmas, traveling, and your job went right out the window. In the end getting to be there with him and all your closest friends and family was worth all the chaos and frustrations of traveling.

  Christmas Eve.

The next morning came with the kind of noise, confusion, and excitement that one would only find at Christmas time. A big breakfast spread, kids running around not eating any of it, but parents insisting they do. Your in-laws were peppering you with a million questions about work, travel, and married life, while Jensen was trying to field Filip’s questions about the same things… it was an endless circle of conversations that lasted well after breakfast. Most of the Ackles family, Jensen included, decided to head out to the ski lift that landed barely a hundred or so yards out of the chalet’s front door. He was slightly disappointed when you passed, but you still wanted to unpack and take a shower before an afternoon of baking cookies and making pies.

After a blissfully hot shower, you got back into your room, only to find Jill unpacking your carryon.

“What on Earth are you doing?” you asked, as you closed the door and pulled the towel from your wet hair.

“Using the guise of helping you unpack to avoid skiing. Also, so we can catch up,” she shrugged and took your stack of clothes to transfer to the dresser.

“And Filip?”

“Oh, he went skiing. Not to actually ski, mind you. But he wants to see if anyone makes an ass of themselves.”

“Namely, Jensen.”

“Mhm,” she said, “He loves Jensen, but if he has an opportunity to tease him…”

“I would expect nothing less of him.”

You grabbed a pile of clothes before she could put them away and began to work at drying your hair and getting changed. “So, fill me in, what’s been going on?”

Jill shrugged and went back into the carryon, this time coming out with the bag containing Jensen’s special gift. When you realized what she had, you dropped the hairbrush and snatched it from her hands. The look of surprise on her face made you snort a laugh, but you quickly regretted your reaction and tried to cover with an apology.

“S-Sorry, this is, uh, personal.”

Jill put her hands on her hips. “Personal? (Y/N) I’ve known you longer than I can recall being alive, and you’re coming at me with… personal? What’s in the bag?”

“Nothing… just a gift. For Jensen. Its… lingerie.”

“Mhm… bullshit. Let me see.”

“No! I’m not showing you what I wear to get him… excited,” the last word came out sheepishly and you averted her gaze.

Jill’s eyes narrowed on you and then floated down to the bag. You could feel the intensity of her stare, but when realization dawned on her face, you felt your stomach drop.

“Ho. Ly. Shit. You’re pregnant.”

“What?! No… you’re… pregnant. No. I mean, I’m not.”

“You’re the world’s worst liar. No mimosas at breakfast, no skiing with your hunky husband and his family… you look like you haven’t slept in weeks and you barely touched any food at all today. And really, its nearly three… Not even spiked eggnog in your possession at a family holiday? That’s just bonkers.”

“So, because I decide not to drink or ski, that means I’m pregnant?” you scoffed.

“Show me what’s in the bag,” she challenged and held out her hand.

“Fine.” You relented and handed it over.

You watched the expression on her face transform from apprehension to pure joy. The little gray onesie she pulled out from the plastic bag unfolded in her hands. When she looked up at you, her eyes were misty with happy tears.

“Really?” she asked, drawing out the word in a happy, high pitched squeal.

“Really. Not far along, but yeah.”

She was downright giddy. “Does he know?”

“Not yet. I wanted to tell him on Christmas, but then Christmas turned into… all of this and I really don’t want to do it in a room full of his family. I want that to be our moment.”

Jill sat on the corner of the bed and held up the tiny piece of clothing that read, ‘Best Present Ever’. “That’s one hundred percent understandable. So, what now though? Wait until you go home?”

“I guess. He promised we would have some time together, just he and I, so we’ll see. But with everyone here…” you sat on the bed beside her and rested your head on her shoulder, “who knows when that will be. Please don’t tell Filip yet, okay?”

“I won’t. And he’s oblivious to these things, but you know he’s going to be over the moon, right? We had ours young, and they’re so grown now, having another baby around… he will just be a big old pile of leather and mush.”

A knock at the door made you both sort of jump up, and Jill stashed the onesie behind her back as you made sure your bathrobe was closed tightly, unsure of who may be knocking. The door opened a crack and Jensen’s face peaked in.

“Oh, hey. You are here. Filip is looking for you. Apparently, he needs you to witness him take on the Black Diamond trail. He said to bring binoculars and a video camera with a good zoom…” he relayed the message with a furrowed brow and giddy smile rested on his lips.

“Oh, Jesus…” she moaned. “Tell him to wait, please. I will be right there.”

“Ok!” Jensen winked at you and swiftly closed the door, probably sprinting down the hallway, off to watch Filip tackle the slopes.

“Giant. Children. Both of them,” she said and handed you back the onesie. “Hide that better. We’ll talk later, okay? I need to go chaperone our husbands.”

You nodded and did as she suggested after she left. You looked forward to talking to her about it more later, but that moment never arrived. Once everyone returned from skiing, thankfully with no broken limbs, only broken egos, everyone broke off into various groups doing different holiday activities. The men drifted towards the rec room to drink and shoot pool or play darts, while the grandmothers, moms, and kids all bustled about the kitchen, making an array of cookies, pies, and candies that were specially reserved for Christmas Day and intended as an offering for Santa. Every now and again, Jensen and Jared would creep into the kitchen, trying to convince one of the kids to pass them a few cookies, and each time one of the moms would have to shoo them away.

Hours later, when the kids were done baking, and they were at peak sugar rush from all the tasting, they ventured out to build snowmen with all the guys, while inside you, Jill, Gen and the rest of the women cleared down the baking mess and began heating up the trays of food Jensen ordered for dinner.

  Jensen stood outside in the snow, watching his dad and brother work with this nieces and nephews to build a bunker, while Jared and Filip were creating an arsenal of snowballs with Shep and Thomas. They were preparing for the snowball fight to end all snowball fights. He watched them all with a contented smile, and felt satisfied with how everything had been going, so far. Even if (Y/N) had not been on board at first.

He felt guilty that he had gone and set all this up without talking to her, and really, that was supposed to be the fun of it. He had put these plans in motion a while ago, to surprise her with a fun Christmas in the mountains that included all their favorite people. Her reaction wasn’t exactly what he had hoped for, but all in all, everything seemed to be going smoothly.

A crash against his chest, and residual wet spray smacked him in the face, pulling him back to the present. It was just in time to block another snowball being fired at him from across the yard. Jensen grabbed a handful of snow and fired back at his best friend, while the boys continued to throw each one their hardest.

Jensen relented and let the boys take him down, falling dramatically into a mound of snow, while Jared cheered them on. In a flash, they were off to the bunker with the others. Jared came over and lent a hand to pull Jensen up from the snow.

“Those kids of yours, they’re brutal,” he said, brushing the snow from his pants. “What have you been teaching them, anyway? The art of pitching an ice cube to the face?”

“Accuracy, brother. Accuracy. It’s all the release,” Jared teased and smacked him on the shoulder. “Besides, when you have yours, I’m sure they will just as lethal. If not, Uncle Jared will fix it.”

“Yeah,” he scoffed. “I don’t know if that’s in the cards,” he mumbled with a twinge of disappointment.

“Why do you say that?”

“I’ve been trying to convince (Y/N) to slow down a little. She’s been traveling like crazy these last few months. Her schedule makes us look like recluses.”

“Shit,” Jared mumbled. “Have you ever talked about it? Kids, I mean.”

“Sure, before we were married, but we didn’t put a timetable on it.”

Jared shrugged and crossed his arms over his chest. “Is that something you want… now? I mean, are you ready for it? Is she?”

“I don’t know man, we haven’t had more than 24 hours alone together in weeks. I barely know whether she’s coming or going half the time and I hate it.”

“So, tell her that. Not like she’s gotta stay home permanently, but maybe something more localized, with less travel.”

“I have an idea, its sneaky and underhanded. But I am willing to take that route if it means more time with her. Ultimately, that’s all I really want. I see how you and Gen handle it, and I want that. I want that with her.”

Jared snorted a laughed. “Whiiiped.” The word popped from his mouth animatedly. Jensen bent down and swiftly crafted a snowball to pelt at Jared’s head.

“Yeah, I’ll show you whipped,” he mumbled and continued his assault on Jared’s back as he ran and dove into the bunker.

  Once the table was set, and the food was warm, Gen went out to call everyone inside to clean up for dinner, then went about helping her boys to strip down of their layers of winter apparel once inside. Jensen stumbled in after them and made a beeline straight for you. He pulled you into the great room and walked you to stand in front of the fireplace. From behind, he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you in close.

“It is so damn cold out there,” he said, his teeth and jaw chattering against your neck.

You covered his arms and hands with your own and leaned back into him. “I can think of ways to keep you warm,” you said softly, so no one else could hear you.

“If I wasn’t so damn hungry, I would one hundred percent march your cute little ass down the hallway right now,” he purred in your ear, giving you a little nip on the flesh below your earlobe, “but a man needs his strength first.”

One last call from the other room beckoned everyone to come to sit for dinner.

“Come on, if there aren’t enough chairs, you can sit on my lap,” he teased, and started to lead you towards the dining room.

Chastising him with a shake of your head, you followed along but paused right outside of the doorway due to a sudden rush of exhaustion, upset stomach and dizziness that froze you in place. Doing your best to act as normal as possible, you waved him on. “You go ahead, I just need to use the bathroom first.”

“You alright?” he asked, able to tell you weren’t one hundred percent.

“Yeah, I just—I just need a minute,” you said and flashed a smile. “Promise.”

Jensen gave your hand a squeeze and went on ahead, while you made a quick and unseen turn to head down the hallway towards your bedroom. Planning on just resting for a moment, you found the edge of the bed and immediately fell back onto the mattress. The dizziness subsided, as did the quick rush of nausea, but you still didn’t feel ready to go back out there. Though the day had been great, you were tired and suddenly overly emotional about not being able to share your news how you had envisioned. A few stray tears spilled down your cheeks that you tried to wipe away but only succeeded in smearing the little make up you had on. Crawling up further onto the bed, you curled up in a ball and decided to just let it all run its course so you could rejoin everyone for Christmas Eve dinner.

   The dishes were passed, food was consumed, and it was around that time that kids started yawning and talks of Santa’s arrival were circling. Jensen listened and laughed at Jared reassured Shep and Thomas that Santa would find them, even way out there. He missed (Y/N) and wasn’t sure why she didn’t return to dinner. He didn’t want to make a big spectacle until his sister asked where she was. Passing along some excuse, he tried to reassure himself that’s all it was.

Man, I hope I didn’t fuck this up, he thought as he watched the rest of his family go about cleaning up from the meal. Did she not come back because she’s still pissed? I just wanted this Christmas to be perfect… show her how great family can be…

After surveying the room, he quietly made his way down the hall and towards his room. He knocked lightly, but no response came. When he cracked the door, the light from the hall illuminated the dark room to reveal her fast asleep on the bed. Jensen walked in and went to her side, crouching to be level with her. Brushing back a piece of hair that had fallen over her cheek, he noticed the tear stains of makeup beneath it, and his heart wrenched.

Dammit, he growled to himself, I didn’t want to make her cry…

Deciding to leave her to rest, he kissed her head and left the room, softly closing the door behind him.

He was angry with himself for not talking to her about it before making the plans. Afraid he’d ruined her Christmas, he was solely focused on what to do to make it right as he stalked down the hallway. Jensen was so lost in his thoughts, that he nearly toppled Jill when he ran into her.

“Whoa, there. Where’s the fire?” she teased until she saw his furrowed brow. “Everything alright?”

He glanced back at the room where his wife lay sleeping. “No. I think I fucked up, big time.”

Jill grabbed his elbow and swiftly pulled him into her and Filip’s room. “What did you do?”

“Easy tiger… nothing bad bad, just… I planned all this, right? But I didn’t tell her until it was done. And now I think she’s pissed. She didn’t come skiing today, stayed in the kitchen all afternoon… then she never came to dinner and I find her asleep in the room. Plus, I think she was crying.” He plopped to the mattress and rubbed his hands over his face. “I just wanted to surprise her… I didn’t realize how important it was to her that it just be us.”

Jill sat next to him on the bed and patted his knee. “Don’t beat yourself up. What you did here was amazing, okay? She loved it. Yes, a little disappointed at first, but she was in awe of everything you did to make this so perfect.”

“Really?”

“Yes. Really. But… maybe, there is a way to give her a bit of that alone time. Didn’t you say there were two cabins on the property?”

“Yeah. Jared and Gen have the one, but the other is empty. It’s a little further up the mountain, but not much. Why?”

“Do you trust me?”

“Of course,” he said, but eyed her suspiciously. “Why?”

“I have an idea, but it's going to require everyone’s help.”

He eyed her suspiciously but was intrigued by what she was thinking. “Alright Lucy… ‘splain yourself,” Jensen said in his best Ricky Riccardo voice.

Jill laid out her plan, to which Jensen was immediately on board with. It took their four best friends, a couple of kids, and most of Christmas Eve night, but by the time dawn broke the next morning, everything was done and ready to go. All he needed now, was his wife.

  Christmas morning.

Someone was shaking you awake. Not violently, but enough that it worked and pulled you from slumber. There was a softly lit lamp on in the corner of the room, which was otherwise still dark. Checking the clock on the nightstand, it was only a quarter past five in the morning. Groaning, you didn’t bother to see who had woken you. Instead, you just put the pillow over your head and tried to go back to sleep.

“Nooope, come on sleepy head,” the voice chastised. “Rise and shine. It’s Christmas.”

“Mmmm… go away,” you moaned, but the shaking of your legs continued.

“Come on, (Y/N), Santa came and left you an awesome gift.”

Slowly sitting up, and wiping the sleep from your eyes, you saw Jill sitting on the edge of the bed. When you realized it was her, you turned to Jensen’s side of the bed and saw that it was never slept in.

“What… where’s--?”

“He’s waiting for you, come on,” Jill encouraged as she grabbed your hand, sitting you up more.

“What is happening,” you said, finally standing up from the bed.

“Well, first, you’re going into the bathroom and washing your face. Then, bundle up because we are heading outside. Then, well, you’ll have to wait and see.”

Now that you were more awake, you saw the determination set onto her face and knew better not to argue. You did as commanded, and even put on a fresh change of clothes before leaving the room.

The house was completely silent. The big tree in the great room was the only light there was, and under it were piles of gifts that weren’t there the night before.

“Get your coat,” she directed. “And a hat, it's cold.”

Heading out the front door, you followed her into the Jeep that was running and relished in the heat of its interior. As she maneuvered it further up the mountain, you were starting to feel slightly nervous as to what was happening. Minutes later, she turned into a barely noticeable driveway that led up to a small cabin. Smoke was already pouring from its chimney and even though there weren’t too many windows in front, you could see a low light flickering from inside.

Jill put the Jeep in park but left it running. “Go on, this is where you get out.”

You looked at her curiously and laughed. “Alright… are you coming?”

“Nope, this is just for you. Merry Christmas, (Y/N). I hope its everything you dreamed of.” Your best friend of many years swiped at the tear that slowly rolled down her cheek before reaching over to hug you.

“Merry Christmas,” you said, fighting back your own emotion as you returned her embrace.

Cautiously, you approached the cabin and the closer you got, you began to hear music coming from inside. At the door, you paused for a moment and tried to stow yourself against what you might find when you were finally able to open it. The choice was made for you, as it opened just as you went to twist the handle.

Jensen’s smiling face greeted you, a dreamy look on his face as he exhaled nervously.

“I was afraid she got lost,” he teased before excitedly pulling you inside. “Merry Christmas, baby.”

His words were lost to you as you looked around the cabin in awe. Just like the main house, this one was decorated to the hilts; only it wasn’t as sparkly and formal. This was more how it would have been at home. In the corner, was a small, tabletop tree, all dressed in colored lights and homemade ornaments. The petite silver star glittered with the reflection of flames from the fireplace beside it. On the other side of the cobblestoned fireplace was a table that had stacks of Christmas movies next to it, along with an array of snacks and drinks.

On the far side of the cabin, was a large picture window that looked out over the mountain range. Across it, colored lights were woven along the curtain rod, while paper snowflakes dangled from a silver string attached to them. The couch was covered in holiday pillows and large, plush blankets that looked so inviting to cozy up against. The air smelled like apples and cinnamon, while your favorite Christmas songs were playing softly from somewhere in the room. The best part of it all was that you and he were the only ones there.

Jensen stood silently behind you and waited anxiously for you to say something. You wanted to, desperately, but you were so choked up by everything he’d done, it rendered you speechless. When you turned to face him, and he saw the tears welling in your eyes. Biting his lower lip, he gently took your fingers and reeled you into him, his gaze steadily holding onto yours.

“I didn’t mean to make you cry again,” he mused and kissed your head. “I’ve done enough of that already.”

“What?” you asked and remembered the night before. “Do you mean last night?”

“Yeah, you didn’t come back and I thought—”

“No… Jensen, God, I am so sorry. I wasn’t upset with you, I swear. I was tired and not feeling good.”

“Your makeup—”

“Yes, I was upset, but not—Shit. I’m sorry, it wasn’t about you. Just a rush of emotion, I promise. You did all of this because you thought I was upset?”

You pulled back from him to gauge his reaction. When he nodded you felt awful; he needed to know that it wasn’t about the vacation… it was about the secret you were dying to share.

“Jensen, this is the most wonderful thing anyone has ever done for me.” You took his hand and led him over to the couch. You sat on both knees facing him and took his face between your hands. “I love you, more than anything. This is the best Christmas I’ve ever had. Honestly. Even if we didn’t get alone time, I got time with you and that’s all that matters. I’m sorry if I made you doubt that.”

“I just want you to be happy, (Y/N).”

“I am happy, as long as I have you.” You bent your lips to meet his, showing him just how much you loved him. When you finally broke free, the goofy smile and wistful look on his face lingered, his hands warm against your hips as they tenderly massaged at your flesh, tickling that part of you that always stirred when he gazed at you like that.

“Wanna open a present?” he asked. His grin turning into that of an excited little boy.

“I’d love too,” you said and thought back to the special present you had hidden away in the room. “Oh damn, I left yours back there. I didn’t know—”

“Nope, all taken care of. Well, I mean, Jill took care of it.”

“She did?”

“Oh yeah. She took care of the presents. Said she knew where you had mine,” he wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. “Jared, Shep, and Thomas added the lights and paper snowflakes… Filip decorated the tree. My mom got all the food and snacks together, and Gen made sure we were gonna be cozy with the pillows and blankets.”

“So, everyone pitched in on this?”

He stood up from the couch and nodded. “Yep. We have a pretty great group of friends. Be right back, okay? Don’t go anywhere.”

You laughed as he disappeared into the back room of the cabin. Peaking now at the gifts under the tree, you tried to find the ones you’d packed for Jensen, and there on the pile was the special gift you had brought. Jill boxed it up and wrapped it, simply labeling the tag, To: Jensen, From: Santa. Picking it up, you held it close to your heart as you heard Jensen return from the other room. Placing it on the side of the couch, you sat back down and watched as Jensen reentered the room, but his back was too you and he didn’t turn.

“Before I give you this… just remember you love me and you think I’m cute. Now, close your eyes.”

“Okay…” you laughed and did as asked. You felt him sit beside you on the couch and couldn’t help but let your eyes flutter open as he was placing something warm and very soft in your arms.

A small, brown, white and black beagle puppy was wiggling in your arms, trying to jump up and lick at your face. You immediately fell in love with him, as it whined softly, yet excitedly at you.

“Oh my God… Jay…”

“Like him?” he asked.

“Like him? I love him! But… a puppy? How—he’ll get so crazy in the apartment. I mean, we can walk him a lot, right? And dog parks… Think he’ll travel, alright?” You couldn’t stop yourself from smiling and laughing as the puppy assaulted you with love.

“Whoa, well… wait. That’s the thing. I think its time for the apartment to go. I think, its time to find OUR place. For you and me, and puppy makes three… you know? Settle somewhere more permanent. Wherever you want, as long as it’s ours.”

“Funny you mention that…” you started and swallowed nervously. You turned and grabbed his special gift. When you handed it to him, you noticed your hands were shaking. “Merry Christmas, Jensen.”

The puppy leapt up and nipped at your cheek, making you laugh and nuzzle him just as Jensen took the gift. You were trying not to appear too anxious for him to open it, by giving the dog all your attention, but inside you were screaming with exhilaration. Finally, Jensen was going to know…

He tore at the paper and tossed it aside before opening the lid of the box. When he removed that and pushed back the tissue paper, the realization of what he was seeing began to register through his expression, causing the sting of tears to touch the corner of your eyes.

Jensen slowly pulled the onesie out and let the box fall to the floor. He stared at it, using both hands to hold it up and read the message on the front. His tongue darted over his bottom lip as he nervously looked back up at you, his own bright green eyes starting to be wet with a swell of tears.

“Seriously?” he expelled in a single, soft breath. “You’re--?”

“Mhm… guess we have two babies to take care of now, huh?” you bent down and nuzzled the puppy’s nose again before looking back at him.

You couldn’t read him at first. He just stared, almost breathlessly at the tiny little shirt that your son or daughter would be wearing at this time next year. “Jensen? Say something, please.”

It was his turn to be speechless. Forgetting about the puppy, he grabbed you and pulled you towards him, crushing his mouth to yours and kissing you deeply. The puppy squealed and wiggled its way from your arms and jumped down to the floor. Jensen took advantage of its absence, to hoist you over to straddle his lap on the couch. He tangled his hand up in your hair, giving him more leverage to deepen the kiss. Jensen didn’t need to say any words, though he did let his tongue to the talking.

By the time he was ready to release you, you were catching your breath and smiling wide, overcome with so much love and elation, it was hard to control.

“I can’t believe it… How long? I mean, how far? When is it—like soon?” he was frantic with questions, which made him even cuter than he normally was.

“Not too long, about five weeks, so not soon, no. I have a doctor’s appointment right after the new year, so I’ll know for sure, then. But, probably end of summer.”

“Wow. Well, I guess we need to get on that whole buy a house, thing, huh? So, where do we set this all up? Hmm? Back east, so you can be closer to work?”

You shook your head and bit down on your lower lip. “I was thinking Texas. I don’t need to be closer to work since I’ve decided not to work there anymore. I think it’s time I found something else to work at, you know after this whole baby thing happens.”

The relief he felt was telling on his face. “You mean that?”

“I do. Besides, I want to be closer to our friends and family. I don’t want either of our little babies here to ever miss out on a second with any of them.”

“Texas it is,” he said and kissed you again. “Just for the record, anywhere you would have picked, would be home. Long as I am with you.”

“Okay, okay… you got a ton of points already, mister, you don’t need to lay it on so thick,” you teased, making him sigh dramatically.

From the floor below, the puppy barked at the wrapping paper scattered on the floor and pounced on it making the two of you chuckle. Sliding from Jensen’s lap, you grabbed the beagle from the floor and snuggled it while leaning back against your husband’s chest. As you lay there with them, with Jensen’s arms protectively around you, you closed your eyes and smiled. For the next few hours, you stayed that way, watching the fire and talking about the future.

Best. Christmas. Ever, you thought as you snuggled into him deeper and enjoyed the quiet time you and Jensen, finally, were able to get. 

[shazyloren]

The Dragon Club: Chapter 6 - Arguments and Insults.

Summary:  Jon Snow is an online blogger who gets an interview with the sort after Daenerys Targaryen, the Editor of Valyrian, a multi-million dollar fashion magazine. He'd heard so much about the silver-haired and silver-tongued woman and the running of her business; he would have to be smart to get anything more than five minutes. Will he be safe walking into the Dragon's lair or will he get thrown to the Lions?

Link: http://archiveofourown.org/works/12018519/chapters/27351066

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Daenerys was shopping, it was the only thing that helped clear her head when things got too clouded. And after her twitter interaction the day previous she certainly needed to do that. Why was it such a big news piece? 'the plot thickens' 'new developments' 'false impressions', it was all too much for her and so here she was; shopping in Chanel for new bags. Jorah was with her; she wasn't allowed to go anywhere without her security because of the last few days. She decided on a red satchel with the infamous backwards C's logo and a baby blue clutch purse. She paid for her fancy wears and left the store with her bags.

She roamed up and down Fifth street; the designer shopping street to go to in King's Landing. She had her hair up in a ponytail (people tended not to recognise her like this) and she had large sunglasses on her face.The shopping district was lively and being here when there was lots of people meant she had less chance of being recognised. She went into YSL and bought new makeup; she went into Clinique and bought new skincare and she bought new clothes in levi's.

She was having a good day to herself (and Jorah) and they decided to stop for lunch. She had a craving for sushi so they stopped at the closest restaurant and both ate while discussing the company's plan to unveil a limited edition magazine where the proceeds go to the WWF found. It had been Missandei's idea and Daenerys had hopped on it like a moth to a flame. She'd already done the planning but it was still quiet secretive. So as they sat in their private booth in hush voices she explained all her ideas to him. They finished up lunch and left so Daenerys could finish shopping.

They walked for hours as Daenery's bags began to pile up and up. They were almost done; only a few shops left for her to visit. As she decided to stop by Versace; something in the corner of her eye caught her interest. he didn't realise what it was straight away: Brown curly hair, thin silver framed glasses and a solemn expression on his face. But when she did, she found a smile on her face.

"Hello Mr. Snow" Her voice purred as he turned to look at her. His eyes widened in shock at the woman holding several large shopping bags with her security stood Jorah stood menacingly behind her. Jorah had not been fond of the comments he'd made about Daenerys in his article, he' told her so. But she said she did give him the bait.

"Daenerys? What a pleasure" His mouth twitched as if he found something very amusing, she didn't. His face was weary; as if tired from something that had been bothering him. Daenerys could see it in his face. "Things have changed since the last interaction we had, I'm glad we can be civil once again"

"They have - my magazine sales have gone up 200%" Daenerys was the one smirking now. Tyrion's plan had worked. It's not even been 24 hours and the business had had a sharp increase after her tweet to him. She'd have to send Tyrion some fine wine to thank him for his advice. "Thank you, for the honesty in your piece. It has really helped me out"

"The honest of my piece also help my career; my site has had 12 million hits in the last 24 hours" Daenerys sensed that Jon was not the bragging kind. But in this intimate exchange they were having stood outside the Versace store, he wasn't going to be walked all over. She admired it in all honesty and she found herself smiling in approval. "such a shame your reputation had to suffer for it"

"I did think you were a tad unreasonable" Daenerys hit him with her words like a bat. Jon was almost taken aback he could see.

"Unreasonable?" He said in shock. "I asked you a very simple question, Miss. Targaryen and you threw me out of the interview"

"A reasonable response given the matter on which you were asking questions; It is not for you to know or anyone for that matter" She said as she began to walk off, her heels clicking as she did. "Have a nice day, Jon Snow"

"Walking off instead of answering my question?" He teased as she walked away. She stopped and turned on her heels, her winter coat flowing right near her ankles. She has a smirk on her face. Daenerys felt as if there was no one else on the street except the two of them. As if this was some form of West side Story musical in which they are two opposing sides who fight and no one else around them matters.

"You just don't know when to stop snooping, do you?" She said with a delicate smile that spoke a thousands of words. Jon's brow furrowed as if not impressed by her snark. "I almost respect that, almost. A man that won't quit, much like myself of course. I am a woman who wants to succeed until the bitter end. We're very similar you and I"

"If that's the case then you wouldn't have kicked me out" He said, having the upper hand on her this time. Her face faltered. Jorah was silently glaring at Jon the entire conversation. She could feel his eyes burning as they glared.

"I think it's time you stepped away, young sir" Jorah said threateningly. Jon turned his attention to the older man. What is he thinking? Daenerys though, What is that complicated brain of his thinking? Before she could have the answers she wanted Jon took a pace back.

"Thank you, for proving me right again" Jon smirked a final time. He then looked at her shopping bags. "I see you've bought from Chanel, if you could point me in the direction of the store, please?"

"Chanel? What do you want with Chanel?" She laughed this time; she hadn't meant to but she found it quite funny. He didn't strike her as a fashion forward mind or someone that wore designer clothes. She couldn't help but laugh at the question. "Finally buying something that's not from GAP?"

"Not for me; I like dressing like I could be homeless. Gives me more edge" He said adjusting his glasses. So a special lady in his life? This annoyed daenerys for some reason. Why was Jon Snow allowed someone to love and not Daenerys? He was just as volatile as she was; why does he get someone? "My sisters feeling a bit... down at the moment, so I thought I'd treat her to something nice"

"Your sister? Sansa?" She asked, the only family member she knew of his. So it hadn't been a girlfriend? He was buying something for his sister? What could've happened that she would need cheering up? So many questions came through her mind.

"Aye, the very one" He nodded.

"Is she okay?" She asked, genuine concern she felt in this moment.

"Like my sister would be okay with me telling you her problems" Jon snorted at her questions. "Just point me to where I need to go?"

"I'll come with you and help you pick something out" She said before her mouth could comprehend it's own movement. Jon looked at her as if she'd just started flying and casting spells in the middle of the street. A look of horror on his face. Daenerys didn't know if he actually hated her or not; she was trying to not be hot headed and she'd actually done an okay job at containing herself. "You don't strike me as someone who knows what they're actually looking for Jon Snow, forgive me for judging a book by it's cover but if you were, you'd already know where the Chanel shop is. You need someone to help; I'm offering my help"

"The part I don't understand is why?" Jon croaked as if a lump was stuck in his throat.

"Yeah; that's the part I'm struggling with too" Jorah spoke as he stood and watched this interaction.

"Jorah, my love. Please take our bags back to the valet. Jon and I will go to the Chanel shop, you can pull up in front and pick me up then" She said handing her bags over.

"I'm not leaving you unprotected" He said rather stupidly Daenerys thought. There was hardly anyone around on the street and Jon was going to be with her; he looked as if he could handle himself. She explained this too him and reluctantly he gave in and took her bags away. They walked in silence as Daenerys led the way, passersby began to notice the two of them and small whispers are heard.

"Do you get this everywhere?" He asked; half wondering what the headlines will be tomorrow, half rattled with fear.

"I've gotten used to it" She laughed. She changed the subject then. "I do respect your writing you know"

"Thank you, I guess"

"And I don't really blame you for what you wrote - I mean vindictive, that hurt a little. But I gave you the ammunition to go after me"

"I just write what I see" He shrugs. "You may not think you look like you could be vindictive; but it's what I saw. What are you so resentful about?"

"Many things, Mr. Snow" She said with a resounding sigh, Jon was really trying to get his clause into her but Daenerys was defiant. They were outside the shop now. "Mother and Father have made me resent many things; but you won't find out any of them. What makes you think I would open up to you?"

Jon opened the door for her and they both stepped through. He didn't say anything for a while; just looked around at the bags instead. Pinks, purples and blues on one side of the room, greens and yellows and reds on the other. White and black on the front stand. Purses and clutches and body bags and satchels and backpacks. Jon was looking round in confusion. Daenerys was on the other side of the room having a little browse again more for herself than actually helping Jon. A shop assistant comes up to him.

"Can I help you with anything at all?" Daenerys was listening intently.

"I'm looking for a present for my sister... um" Jon scratched the back of his head.

"What's the occasion?" She asked intrusively. Daenerys was surprised when Jon answered honestly.

"She's started dating a girl and well our parents aren't taking it well. I wanted to treat her to something nice"  Daenerys felt her mouth drop. Sansa had come out to her parents and Jon was the only one being supportive? Suddenly Daenerys felt for Jon. she didn't know where the emotion came from but it was present anyway. "Her favourite colour is green"

"Jon" Daenerys said as she pointed to a beautiful backpack, dark green with gold detailed embroidery. It was gorgeous but one of the most expensive things in here.

"That's it; that's the one" He pointed to that one and immediately it was being packed away. Daenerys saw Jorah enter the shop; the car parked just outside the front. She nodded to him. "Thank you for your help; she's going to love it"

"Jon... I heard what you said to the assistant, how is she doing?" Daenerys didn't know Sansa very well but she seemed sweet when they'd met for the cover.

"She's sleeping on my sofa" Jon sighed carrying the bag out of the store.

"That's terrible" She said solemnly.

"You don't strike me as someone who would be an ally to the LGBTQ community" He said ruffling his nose.

"Oh Mr. Snow, i used to experiment in my younger years. I am perfectly fine with people being themselves; I'm not stuffy as well as resentful" She said stiffer than she wanted it to be. "Well It's been a meeting I'll remember, Jon Snow. But I'm afraid it's not all shopping; I actually have work to do. Good luck with your sister; I do hope she likes the bag that I picked out for her"

"I'm sure she will" He said as Dany climbed into the passenger side of her Rolls Royce.

"Until next time" She winked and closed the door. She looked in the rear view mirror as he stood on the path and watched them drive off.

Oh Jon Snow what will our relationship be tomorrow.

[theattainer]

What Are Your Rules for Life? These 11 Expressions (from Ancient History) Might Help

http://theattainer.com/what-are-your-rules-for-life-these-11-expressions-from-ancient-history-might-help/

What Are Your Rules for Life? These 11 Expressions (from Ancient History) Might Help

In one of my favorite novels, The Moviegoer by Walker Percy, Aunt Emily is famous for asking a question. It’s a simple one, but I think an eye-opening one. Aunt Emily, the wisest character in the book, likes to ask,

What do you live by?

As in, what are your principles? What are the Ten Commandments that rule your life? Who’s the animating force behind what you do and why you do it?

You’d think most people would know the answer to this question, but of course they don’t. Seattle Seahawks Coach Pete Carroll likes to tell a story about how long he managed to coach football without actually knowing what he believed in as a coach. It was only after another disappointing season with the New England Patriots—some 15 years into his career—that it struck Carroll that he had no real coaching philosophy, no real belief system. Inspired by John Wood, Carroll got to work, “writing notes and filling binders”—on nailing down his core values, his philosophy, what exactly he believes in. It was a transformative decision: He would go on to win two National Championships and win a Super Bowl with the Seattle Seahawks.

Now when he gives talks, he likes to open with that question: What’s your philosophy?What do you live by? He told me once, when I asked him about it, how shocked he is, on a regular basis, how many CEOs and generals and investors and coaches at the highest levels reveal, accidentally, that they have just been winging it.

That’s crazy!

In light of that fact, I thought I would look backwards to history, when the idea of a code—the Romans called it mas morium—was more common. The “old ways” come down to us in the form of some wonderful Latin expressions that remain, thousands of years later, very much worth living by.

Festina Lente (Make Haste Slowly)

From the Roman historian Suetonius, we learn that festina lente was the motto of Rome’s first emperor, Augustus. “He thought nothing less becoming in a well-trained leader than haste and rashness,” Suetonius writes, “And, accordingly, favourite sayings of his were: ‘More haste, less speed’; ‘Better a safe commander than a bold’; and ‘That is done quickly enough which is done well enough.’”

Faster is not always better. In fact, it’s often the slowest way to accomplish anything. Great leaders throughout history have known this. There is a quote ascribed to Lincoln about how the way to chop down a tree is to first spend several hours sharpening your axe. Kennedy used to talk about using time as a tool, not as a couch.

It’s easy to rush in. It feels good to start doing. But if you don’t know what you’re doing, why you’re doing it, and how to do it? Well, it’s not going to go well. If you’re going quickly for the sake of speed, you’re going to make costly mistakes. You’re going to miss opportunities. You’re going to miss critical warnings.

Each of us needs more clear thinking, wisdom, patience, and a keen eye for the root of problems. “Slowly,” Juan Ramon Jimenezas put it, “you will do everything quickly.”

Festina Lente.

Carpe Diem (Seize The Day)

Locked in prison by Henry Bolingbroke (Henry IV) in Shakespeare’s Richard II, Richard II gives a haunting speech about his hopeless fate. One line stands out, as it captures perfectly the reality of nearly every human being—indeed, it sounds like it was cribbed from Seneca’s On The Shortness of Life.

“I wasted time,” Richard II says, “and now doth time waste me.”

Isn’t that beautiful? And terribly sad? It was some 1500 years before Shakespeare that the poet Horace wrote in book 1 of Odes, “carpe diem, quam minimum credula postero” (seize the day, trust tomorrow e’en as little as you may).

We think that time is ours to waste. We even say, “We have two hours to kill” or speak of dead time between projects. The irony! Because time is the one that’s killing us. Each minute that passes is not just dead to us, it brings us closer to being dead.

That’s what Richard II realizes in that prison cell. He had wasted time and now, by a stroke of bad luck and evil, he is now wasting away. Only now is he realizing that each second that ticks by is a beat of his heart that he won’t get back, each ringing bell that marks the hour falls upon him like a blow.

Seneca writes that we think life is short, when in reality we just waste it. Marcus admonishes himself to not put off until tomorrow what he can do today, because today was the only thing he controlled (and to get out of bed and get moving for the same reason). The Stoics knew that fate was unpredictable and that death could come at any moment. Therefore, it was a sin (and stupidity) to take time for granted.

Today is the most valuable thing you own. It is the only thing you have. Don’t waste it. Seize it.

Carpe Diem. 

Fac, si facis (Do It If You’re Going To Do It)

The painter Edgar Degas, though best known for his beautiful Impressionist paintings of dancers, toyed briefly with poetry. As a brilliant and creative mind, the potential for great poems was all there—he could see beauty, he could find inspiration. Yet there are no great Degas poems. There is one famous conversation that might explain why. One day, Degas complained to his friend, the poet Stéphane Mallarmé, about his trouble writing. “I can’t manage to say what I want, and yet I’m full of ideas.” Mallarmé’s response cuts to the bone. “It’s not with ideas, my dear Degas, that one makes verse. It’s with words.”

So yes, deliberation and patience are key. You don’t want to rush into things. That’s what festina lente is about. But at some point the rubber has to meet the road.

“I should start a company.” “I have a great idea for a movie.” “I would love to write that book one day.” “If I tried hard enough, I could be ______.” How many of those people actually go through with building the company, releasing the movie, publishing the book, or becoming whatever it is they claim they could become? Sadly, almost none.

“Lots of people,” as Austin Kleon puts it, “want to be the noun without doing the verb.” It doesn’t matter where we are; to get to wherever we want to go, to implement all 11 of these expressions to live by, it is works, not words, that are required. “You must build up your life action by action,” Marcus Aurelius said. You must get started.

Fac, si facis.

Quidvis recte factum quamvis humile praeclarum (Whatever Is Rightly Done, However Humble, Is Noble)

The youngest of five children, Sir Henry Royce’s father died when he was just 9 years old. He went to work to alleviate his family’s financial burdens, so if his dreams of being an engineer were to be realized, it’d be without any formal education. Royce took jobs selling newspapers, delivering telegrams, making tools, and fixing street lights. At the age of twenty-one he started his own company making electric fittings. At twenty-six his interests shifted to the emerging automobile industry, and soon thereafter, he created Rolls-Royce Motor Cars.

It might seem like there is an enormous difference between those professions but in fact, they are related. It was his experiences doing that manual labor, doing those seemingly insignificant tasks that cultivated Royce’s commitment to and understanding of excellence. In fact, he later had a version of it inscribed on the mantle over his fireplace: Quidvis recte factum quamvis humble praeclarum.

Whatever you do well, however lowly, is noble.

There is no such thing as a job or a task that is beneath us. How we do anything is how we do everything. And if we can truly internalize and believe that, it will help us do the important things better. That’s why we love luxury items and pay so much for them, isn’t it? Because of their insane attention to detail, because how they refused to settle, how they did everything right?

Quidvis recte factum quamvis humile praeclarum.

Semper Fidelis (Always Faithful)

Otto Frank was late coming home from the First World War. No, it wasn’t because he was injured. Nor was he detained by a girl he’d fallen in love with or waylaid by traveling he decided to do. He was delayed for weeks because during the war his unit had commandeered some horses from a small farm in Pomerania and, after the hostilities had ended, he felt duty bound to return them.

When the war ended, nearly every soldier wanted nothing more than to rush home and see their families. Otto Frank did too. But he had borrowed something that wasn’t his and he was determined to honor his obligation, even if that meant delaying the homecoming he craved so much. The farmer, for his part, was shocked to see the horses again. Otto Frank’s mother, who assumed the worst of his absence, was so angry when she heard why he was late that she hurled a coffee pot across the room. She couldn’t understand the selflessness of his actions because in her case, since it had deprived her of her son a little longer, almost felt like selfishness.

“Cold or warm. Tired or well-rested. Despised or honored,” Marcus Aurelius wrote. “Just that you do the right thing. The rest doesn’t matter.” It isn’t easy. It can mean adding on top of already considerable burdens. Other people won’t always understand or take notice. They may be exasperated with you. They might be driven into a rage which you can neither control nor assuage. But none of that matters, and that’s why Semper Fi is the motto of the US Marine Corps. “It is not negotiable,” one Marine puts it. “It is not relative, but absolute…Marines pride themselves on their mission and steadfast dedication to accomplish it.” Not just to the mission, but to each other, and to their country.

You do the right thing because it’s the right thing to do. It is the ultimate tautology, but that’s the point. Doing the right thing is all that matters. It is its own reward.

Semper Fidelis.

Per Angusta Ad Augusta (Through Difficulties To Honors)

Look, nobody wants to go through hard times. We’d prefer that things go according to plan, that what could go wrong doesn’t, so that we might enjoy our lives without being challenged or tested beyond our limits.

Unfortunately, that’s unlikely to happen. Which leaves us with the question of what good there is in such difficulty and how we might—either in the moment or after the fact—come to understand what it is that we’re going through…today, tomorrow, and always.

This passage from Sonia Purnell’s wonderful biography of Clementine Churchill, wife of Winston Churchill, is worth thinking about:

“Clementine was not cut out from birth for the part history handed her. Adversity, combined with sheer willpower, burnished a timorous, self-doubting bundle of nerves and emotion into a wartime consort of unparalleled composure, wisdom, and courage. The flames of many hardships in early life forged the inner core of steel she needed for her biggest test of all. By the Second World War the young child terrified of her father…had transmogrified into a woman cowed by no one.”

The Stoics believed that adversity was inevitable. They knew that Fortune was capricious and that it often subjected us to things we were not remotely prepared to handle. And this is not necessarily a bad thing. Because it teaches us. It strengthens us. It gives us a chance to prove ourselves. “Disaster,” Seneca wrote, “is Virtue’s opportunity.” The obstacle is the way, was Marcus Aurelius’s expression.

And so the same can be true for you and whatever it is that you’re going through right now.

Per Angusta Ad Augusta.

Amor fati (Love Of Fate)

The writer Jorge Luis Borges said:

A writer — and, I believe, generally all persons — must think that whatever happens to him or her is a resource. All things have been given to us for a purpose, and an artist must feel this more intensely. All that happens to us, including our humiliations, our misfortunes, our embarrassments, all is given to us as raw material, as clay, so that we may shape our art.

Everything is material. We have to learn to find joy in every single thing that happens. We have to understand that certain things—particularly bad things—are outside our control. But we can use it all—if we learn to love whatever happens to us and face it with unfailing cheerfulness. And again, not just artists. Issues we had with our parents become lessons that we teach our children. An injury that lays us up in bed becomes a reason to reflect on where our life is going. A problem at work inspires us to invent a new product and strike out on our own. These obstacles become opportunities.

The line from Marcus Aurelius about this was that a blazing fire makes flame and brightness out of everything that is thrown into it. That’s how we want to be. We want to be the artist that turns pain and frustration and even humiliation into beauty. We want to be the entrepreneur that turns a sticking point into a money maker. We want to be the person who takes their own experiences and turns them into wisdom that can be learned from and passed on to others.

Nietzsche said, “My formula for greatness in a human being is amor fati: that one wants nothing to be different, not forward, not backward, not in all eternity. Not merely bear what is necessary, still less conceal it…but love it.” Use it all. Find purpose in all of it. Find opportunity in everything. Love it.

You love everything that happens. Because you make use of it.

Amor Fati

Fatum Ingenium Est (Character Is Fate)

When he was in college and struggling to live up to the expectations of his illustrious family, Walker Percy wrote a letter to his uncle and adopted father, Will Percy. He probably expected to receive a lecture about his grades in reply. Or be admonished for letting the family down. Or perhaps to be sent money for a tutor.

But the reply surprised him. Because there wasn’t any of that. Instead, Will waved those concerns off. “My whole theory about life,” Will told his beloved nephew and son, “is that glory and accomplishment are of far less importance than the creation of character and the individual good life.”

It was Heraclitus who said that character is fate. Or character is destiny, depending on the translation. What he meant was: Character decides everything. It determines who we are/what we do. Develop good character and all will be well. Fail to, and nothing will.

It can be easy to lose sight of this. Because we know how competitive the world is. Because things aren’t exactly going our way. Because we want to reach our full potential. But ultimately, we only need to care about our character. The rest is fated from it.  “Life is short,” Marcus Aurelius said, and “the fruit of this life is a good character.”

It’s true in reverse too: A good life is the fruit of good character.

Fatum Ingenium Est.

Semper Anticus (Always Forward)

The wisdom of the ancient world comes down pretty hard and pretty universally against looking back. No one, Jesus said, who looks backwards as they plot is fit for the kingdom of God. Even before Jesus, Cato the Elder—the great-grandfather of the Stoic Cato the Younger—wrote in his only work, On Agriculture, “The forehead is better than the hindhead.” Meaning: Don’t look back. Look forward.

It’s easy to want to look back at the past. To reflect on what’s happened. To blame. To indulge in nostalgia. To wistfully think of what might have been. To inspect and admire what you’ve done. But this is pointless. Because the past is dead. It’s lost. We had our shot with it. Now, all that remains before us is the present—and if we are lucky, the future.

The name of Lance Armstrong’s podcast is called what? The Forward. Because he can’t go back and change what happened, just like in a race, you can’t go backwards and you can’t stop either. All you can do is keep going. All you can do is keep trying to get better.

We must seize this opportunity while we still can. We must give it everything we have. No matter what has happened before—whose fault it was, how much pain it caused us, what regrets we have, or even how triumphant it was—all we can do is move forward. All we can do is act now, with the virtues we hold dear: courage, temperance, wisdom, justice.

Semper Anticus. 

Vivere Militare Est (To Live Is To Fight)

Odysseus leaves Troy after ten long years of war destined for Ithaca, for home. If only he knew what was ahead of him: ten more years of travel. That he’d come so close to the shores of his homeland, his queen and young son, only to be blown back again. That he’d face storms, temptation, a Cyclops, deadly whirlpools, and a six-headed monster. Or that he’d be held captive for seven years and suffer the wrath of Poseidon. And, of course, that back in Ithaca his rivals were circling, trying to take his kingdom and his wife.

He fought his way home. Marcus Aurelius once described life as warfare and a journey far from home. That was Odysseus’s experience certainly. To the Stoics, one had to go through life as a boxer or a wrestler, dug in and ready for sudden assaults.

That’s life. It kicks us around. The stuff we expected to be simple turns out to be tough. The people we thought were friends let us down. A couple storms or unexpected weather patterns just add a whole bunch of difficulty on top of whatever we’ve been doing. Seneca wrote that only the fighter who has been bloodied and bruised—in training and in previous matches—can go into the ring confident of his chances of winning. The one who has never been touched before, never had a hard fight? That’s a fighter who is scared. And if they aren’t, they should be. Because they have no actual idea how they’re going to hold up.

We have to have a true and accurate sense of the rhythms of the fight and what winning is going to require us to do. We have to be ready for the fighting life. We have to be able to get knocked around without letting it knock us out. We have to be in touch with ourselves and the fight we’re in.

Vivere Militare Est.

Memento Mori (Remember Death)

A person who wraps up each day as if it were the end of their life, who meditates on their mortality in the evening, Seneca believed, has a super power when they wake up.

“When a man has said, ‘I have lived!’” Seneca wrote, then “every morning he arises is a bonus.”

Think back: to that one time you were playing with house money, if not literally then metaphorically. Or when your vacation got extended. Or that appointment you were dreading canceled at the last moment.

Do you remember how you felt? Probably, in a word—better. You feel lighter. Nicer. You appreciate everything. You are present. All the trivial concerns and short term anxieties go away—because for a second, you realize how little they matter.

Well, that’s how one ought to live. Go to bed, having lived a full day, appreciating that you may not get the privilege of waking up tomorrow. And if you do wake up, it will be impossible not to see every second of the next twenty-four hours as a bonus. As a vacation extended. An appointment with death put off one more day. As playing with house money.

”You could leave life right now,” Marcus Aurelius wrote, “let that determine what you do and say and think.”

Is there better advice than this? If so, it has yet to be written. Keep it close.

Memento Mori.

— 

The power of an epigram or one of these expressions is that they say a lot with a little. They help guide us through the complexity of life with their unswerving directness. Each person must, as the retired USMC general and former Secretary of Defense Jim Mattis, has said, “Know what you will stand for and, more important, what you won’t stand for.” “State your flat-ass rules and stick to them. They shouldn’t come as a surprise to anyone.”

Least of all to you.

So borrow these eleven, or dig into history or religion or philosophy to find some more.

And then turn those words…into works.

What do you think?

[alcoholicakina]

Upped my word count again

That valium saved my hide, it really did. Two nights later and I don’t even really have cravings. I need to be careful, though. I fucken love that stuff. Even if it made me feel a bit weird the following morning.

I’ve found some music that really gets me in the writing mood, and I’ve smashed out several thousand words this weekend, shivering through most of it because it’s freezing here in Aus and I don’t want to waste electricity by turning on the heater, because the downstairs area in our townhouse is essentially one very long room with tiles and very poor insulation. Virtually nonexistent. I wrote a scene last night that I fleshed out today by doing lots of research on hypothermia and surviving being in a sinking car. So that was fun. My poor characters are suffering. Anyway, I’ve hit almost 30k words already so I just upped my goal to 40k. Why not.

Today the BF and I went out to a local botanical garden, just to get out of the house and take some photos. We got super lucky - there were four (4!) peacocks around, and we both got some great shots. BF got more candid ones, despite being closer to them, whereas I had a super zoom lens and yet somehow kept getting very sassy photos. Maybe it was the size of my lens? Either way, a good time was had by all, and knowing me it will be at least a year before I get around to editing and uploading those photos to Instagram. I’m terrible.

Anyway, it’s 11:30 pm and I have work tomorrow, so I’m signing off. Goodnight all. Hail valium x