#i LOVE this woman jesus sodding christ

[betchiwilleatyou]

my unusually high resting heart rate is turning into an unusually high hyperventilating heart rate

[bedforddanes75]

too sad i might have to take up religion

[walkdeadoralive]

God's Corporation

It was a little over a year ago and about the same time being a new believer in Christ, I had an issue with a woman who came to my property. I was having a garage sale and she was the only one that showed. Mowing the lawn I could see her driving towards me, not on the clear dirt driveway, but on my grass. Now I live in the country here in Vermont, but I have driveways and enjoy keeping the land free of cars driving all over it. I said the sale was at my garage and she could follow the driveway not on the grass and I would meet her there. She obnoxiously drove to my side on the grass and said she would follow me there…driving on the grass. So, at that point I failed as a believer. A simple test to remain slow to anger, be humble, watch my words; I told her to get off the property. Ooops. Of course, she thought I was jealous of her Mercedes and stated so as she drove on my grass and off the property.

I was so mad at myself. It did not need to escalate to that point and it was an opportunity to be the newer version of me. To cool down I went for a walk with the dogs. So, bringing the matter to God, after apologizing of course, we discussed it further. Do you know what He did? He walked me down memory lane of all the jobs I have had in my lifetime and businesses I have run or owned. I was an office manager for a State Farm agent in Malibu after being a top retail store manager. Sold sod for a while, at home mom for a while, partnered a restaurant, and now own a business here in Vermont. You do not need my resume but pointing out I have always been in sales and service to the public. Then He reminded me how I was always such an amazing person with customers…even the ones that complained; much of the time. I always tried to cater to make people happy and if they were dissatisfied how could I resolve the situation. The point He was making is that I should be thinking of God’s people as His customers. He is the corporation; I am in His sales department.

Lightbulb moment for me. This also, He pointed out, would bring clarity to witnessing for Him. I always worried because I am new to the Bible let alone have not memorized scripture much at all. But He reminded me I have always chose to work for or be in business for a product I believed in; otherwise you can’t talk about it with confidence. Blew me away with how accurate He was. The fact that I am a very extraverted person and happy around others; a social being.

Why do I bring this up you ask? Well I was looking back over the past 2 years and thinking I have been somewhat stagnant; reading my journal I can see I have not. Much growth and understanding has happened; many changes in my life and those I have prayed for. I have started my website for God, always trying to improve and add to it, as well as the social media platforms I most recently started. I have had no transportation for about 6 weeks so I have not been anywhere to see anyone. When I was working I didn’t get home until late so again, I wasn’t anywhere with other people to witness to. So, this has made me feel productive for God and His will and overcome such an obstacle.

Now back to God and His Corporation. It was interesting how it all broke down. We have God, Jesus, and the Holy Spirit as the chief officers. Then we have the churches where you can find the product; the storefront. Then the individual sales people, or disciples, spreading the word, or the product value. All running at a zero-cost margin. I loved it! It broke it down for me and my part. I could work myself up to a storefront or be satisfied with just my sales level position. The product, Jesus’ love, and salvation; it was a no brainer! The fact that it is free seals the deal.

Now I am sure there will be some people to comment negatively, how God is not a sales pitch and I am going to hell, etc. But sorry folks, break it down and it is, and He had the conversation with me not you.

Let us break it down further. A corporation has a president, treasurer, and a secretary. Similar to The Father, The Son, and The Holy Spirit. What is the definition of a salesperson? “A person whose job is to sell a product or service in a given territory, in a store, or by telephone, or on line.”

What is the product? Again, Jesus’ grace and mercy. He paid the fees for all of us and therefore redeemed us. Now all we have to do is accept it, for free.

What would be the mission statement? I am thinking it is a very long one but the Bible! “A mission statement is a concise explanation of the organization’s reason for existence. It describes the organization’s purpose and its overall intention. The mission statement supports the vision and serves to communicate purpose and direction to employees, customers, vendors, and other stakeholders.”

As any corporation looks to continually expand and grow, so does our King, Lord, and Savior. The company pitch? Why not Jesus. In a world of continuous turmoil why not accept His peace knowing He is in control. Who wouldn’t want to live for eternity in a glorified, immortal, incorruptible body? Why wouldn’t anyone not want to feel secure in all situations because they have the Creator in their wheel house? If He is for you who can be against you? Who could not want to be on the team that smacked down death? He sacrificed Himself to give us eternal life with Him; that is true love. He keeps all His promises, never lies, paid our debt, forgives and gives, and a great listener. He is selective who He chooses (it is not always who you think it is), He cares about quality not quantity. He is all about relationship. Key ingredient to the Corporation or Kingdom if you will; relationship.

In a nutshell all you must do is believe that Jesus is your Lord and Savior. That He died on the cross and was resurrected. That He paid your debt of sin and you are now washed clean by His blood. Zero cost. In addition, to continuously try to grow and mature as a believer, and share His word via word of mouth; or like me, I started my website, www.walkingdeadoralive.com , do what works for you.  I cannot see myself in a store front; pastoring a church. But look, we have stores online now so who knows what God has in store for me.

As for the complaint department, hahaha, I accept any inquiries you might have. People constantly say how could there be a God if He allows all these horrible tragedies? Or if there is a God why does He allow all the tragedies. Very good questions. Jesus invites us to keep on asking, seeking and knocking. “Ask, and it will be given to you; seek, and you will find; knock and it will be opened to you. For everyone who asks receives, and he who seeks finds, and to him who knocks it will be opened.” Matthew 7:7-8

What do I mean by my complaint department? Ask questions of me if you want. Visit my website to review information and let me know your thoughts. Visit information in the Bible; just research, listen, and look. Remember in the mall of religion even not choosing is still a choice. My point is, you cannot just make a sweeping statement God allows tragedies or there cannot be a God with all the horror we see or experience. You have to research and listen to the why’s and what it all means and the whole enchilada so to speak. You cannot just take a sneak peak and think you understand. So, drop a note in the Suggestion Box, please be polite, and start a dialogue. But start, because we never know when our last breath will be and you do not want to miss this “sale”!

[whentheynameyoujoy]

Guess I’ve Always Been A Bitter Hag, Then

Shuffling through the sparrabeth scenes from Dead Man’s Chest and At World’s End, and I swear I suffer from the exact opposite of whatever the shipper brain is because here’s me in the cinema in 2006 and 2007, going:

“Dude, of course they’re not doing Elizabeth + Jack Sparrow, that’d be way too bold and interesting, scoff, no, TPTB are trying to trick me into caring, naturally they’re going with the safe and boring option anyone’s mum would be proud of, think of the tropes, the lead chasing after the girl always gets the girl, nah, the two are just playing each other, the manipulative douches, Jack’s just trying to get into Elizabeth’s pants for the lulz when he’s not too busy joking about the ridiculous idea of caring for her, there are no tender feelings involved whatsoe—

Meanwhile, the actual movies:

Yeah, mate, don’t let her see what the needle’s pointing at. Coward.

I’ve heard of guys fake-promising marriage to get a woman into bed. I’ve never heard of a guy actually willing to go through with it before the sex.

why so sad :( no one’s even looking at you

why so distrot

why so disappoint

Dude, again?!

(And let’s not forget the deleted scene where Jack verbally confirms Norrington’s accusation that he just wants Elizabeth for himself)

Not dying to tongue the guy again, na-ah.

No one heartbroken pictured here.

Not at all.

Spotted in his natural environment: a guy feeling secure in his relationship.

You forgot to deny it, sweetie.

Perfect.

Man, how many times has this guy tried to get rid of the boyfriend already?

As explicitly confirmed in the deleted scene

No obvious sad boi here

Jesus, the puppy eyes.

Well I’m convinced.

the man pain! :’(

Could these two stop being idiots for one minute, please?!

Like, on one hand good on me for apparently having a pre-installed state-of-the-art Anti Batey Creator Fuckery 3000 security system which prevents me from getting attached to the idea of my ships ever becoming canon, but I do find it to be a teensy bit of an issue that it caused me to completely miss how the poor sod was genuinely, CANONICALLY, in love with Elizabeth from start to finish.

Christ, eksqueeze me, I really need to overdose on crack videos and fan edits now to compensate for my barren soul “expectations are bad and hurt” conceal don’t feel bai.

[pra370r1an]

The final (joke) chapter. Whole chapters under the cut

“There it is,” King Lilith gazed at the castle in the distance. “Camelot!���

“Camelot!” Ser Willow breathed.

“Camelot!” Ser Gus called in wonder.

“It’s only a model…” Eda remarked.

“Shush!” King Lilith quickly commanded. “Now let us ride! To Camelot!”

 “We don’t have a Lord,” Hooty said.

“What?” King Lilith asked.

I told you!  We're an anarcho-syndicalist commune!  We're taking turns to act as a sort of executive officer for the week,” King the fox explained. “But all the decisions *of* that officer has to be ratified at a special bi-weekly meeting by a simple majority in-”

“Shut up, would you?” King Lilith sternly said. “I get it.”

“Shut up, eh? Who does she think she is?” Hooty asked before resuming playing in the dirt. “Some lovely dirt over here King!”

“I’m your King,” Lilith said.

“Well, I didn’t vote for you,” Hooty replied.

“You don’t vote for kings,” King Lilith explained. “The Lady of the Lake held aloft Excalibur and decreed a divine mandate that I would be King.”

“Listen,” King the fox explained. “Strange women laying in ponds, distributing swords is no basis for a system of government. Supreme executive power derives from a mandate from the masses, not from some... farcical aquatic ceremony!”

“Be Quiet!’ King Lilith demanded.

The fox continued, “I mean, if I went 'round, saying I was an emperor, just because some moistened bint had lobbed a scimitar at me, they'd put me away!”

Lilith reached down and picked King up by the scruff of the neck, shaking the fox. “Will You SHUT UP!?”

“Ahh! Now we see the violence inherent in the system!” King smugly said. “COME SEE THE VIOLENCE INHERENT IN THE SYSTEM!!” He announced as he was shook, “HELP! I’M BEING REPRESSED!”

King Lilith dropped the fox and stormed away, “Damn Peasant!”

“See!? See!?” King looked at the small crowd around him. “That’s what I’m on about! You saw her repressing me, right!?”

 The evil Greater Basilisk looked around, “Wait, where did that knight go?”

*Scene change*

“Brave Ser Matt ran away” the bards sung as they followed their knight through the woods.

“No!” Ser Mattholomule objected.

“Bravely ran away away.”

“I didn’t!”

“When danger reared its ugly head, he boldly turned his tail and fled.”

“No! I didn’t!”

 “Tell your master that we’ve been charged by God to seek the holy grail! And he may join us if he’d like!” King Lilith shouted up towards the walls.

“Well, I will, but I’m afraid he’s already got one!” The man shouted back in his accent.

“What?” King Lilith asked.

“He said he’s already got one?” Ser Luz glanced around to see if she heard right.

“You already got one!?” King Lilith inquired.

“Oh, Yes! It’s very nice!” Belos turned and whispered to Kikimora, the Golden Guard and Warden Wrath. “I told her we already got one!” The three broke out in giggles.

“Well, can we come up and look?”

“Of course not! You are English types and this is a French Castle!”

“What are the French doing in England?” Ser Luz shouted up.

“Mind your own business!” Belos shouted. “Now I don’t want to talk to you no more! So go away English King and take your silly English Keniggets!”

“Listen, is there someone else we can talk to!?” Ser Luz shouted up.

“No! Now go away before I taunt you a second time!”

 “We found a witch! May we burn her!?” the angry mob shouted.

“I’m not a witch!” Bo yelled back. “They just say I am!”

“But she’s dressed like one!” Kat shouted, pointing towards her pointy hat.

“You are dressed like a witch,” Ser Bump ceded the point.

“Yes, but they dressed me like this!” Bo yelled, she pointed to her pointy nose. “This isn’t even my real nose!”

Ser bump examined the fake nose and turned to the crowd, “Is this true?”

“No! No! … Well, yes. Maybe. But she really is a witch!” Amelia insisted.

Bo looked to Ser Bump in exasperation.

“Don’t worry, we’ll figure this out! Now, how do you know she’s a witch?” Ser Bump asked.

“She turned my head into a giant eyeball!” Eyeleen accused by pointing.

“AN EYEBALL!?” Ser Bump looked in shock at the girl’s completely normal looking head.

“…I got better…” She looked around awkwardly.

“Burn Her!” Somebody shouted and the rest of the mob took up the yell.

 “There it is!” Eda pointed over their cover towards the creature by the cave.

“What behind the bunny?” Ser Willow asked.

“No, it is the bunny!”

…

“You silly sod!” King Lilith scolded as she stood from her hiding place.

“What?”

“You had us all worked up over a bunny!?”

“That’s no ordinary bunny! That rabbit has a vicious streak a mile wide!”

“HOW!?” Ser Gus asked incredulously.

Eda held her hand like a claw, “It’s got huge sharp, uhh…” She held her hands slightly apart, “It can leap about…” She pointed back towards the cave opening, “Look at the bones for God’s sake!”

“Right,” King Lilith gestured to a nearby knight. “Ser Snaggleback, cut its head off!”

Ser Snaggleback strode forward unafraid, “One Rabbit stew coming uAUGHHH!!”

“Holy!” “Jesus!” “Christ!”

“Run Away!” King Lilith shouted.

 Ser Luz held her shield protectively before her, as the denizens of Castle Anthrax slowly approached. Before her, the co-leader of this strange place informed Luz what was expected of her.

“And then! You must Spank her!”

“I’m sorry?” Ser Luz looked bewildered. “What?”

“She has been extremely naughty and you must spank her. Then? Spank me!”

“And me!”

“Me too!”

“Yes, you must spank all of us!” The woman gestured around to the beautiful women surrounding Ser Luz. They all looked thrilled at the prospect.

“I’m sorry, is this story too graphic?” Luz asked. “I was really worried when pra370r1an was writing it. But I think it turned out alright considering we’re all adult knights.”

“I mean at least my scene played with my mannerisms and my favorite minion’s name to craft a funny situation,” King said.

“And my joke was original and wasn’t a blatant rip-off of a movie from the 70s,” Eda mentioned off hand, Owlbert nodding on her shoulder.

“At least they didn’t mention the Moose?” Ser Willow mentioned, Ser Gus looking away horrified.

“Can we just get this over with?” Amity said looking annoyed, purposely looking away from the scene.

“Yes, get on with it,” Emira agreed.

“Yeah, hurry up!” Edric rolled his eyes.

“Ewch ymlaen ag ef!” The bearded huntsman from chapter 5 yelled, the fish hook servant and tall servant nodding in agreement.

“Get On With It!” King Lilith and her knights all shouted together.

“Oh, good! I promise this is the last bit of absurdist humor in this fic!” Luz smiled.

“GET ON WITH IT!” The cartoon depiction of God shouted from the heavens, shaking the view.

“Right, so…”

“Well,” Ser Luz looked around. “I guess I could stay for another night…?”

Behind her a door burst open and three armored knights rushed in, putting themselves between Ser Luz and the women.

“Ser Luz!” Ser Boscha took her arm.

“Boscha?”

“Quick!” Ser Boscha pulled her back towards the door.

“What?!”

“Quick! You’re in mortal danger!”

“What, I am?”

“No, she isn’t!” One of the women insisted.

“Silence foul temptress!” Ser Boscha raised her sword, only for Luz to grab her arm.

“That’s not necessary!”

“Come on! We’ll cover your escape!” Ser Boscha started pushing Luz back. The other knights retreated as well and the women followed.

“Boscha! I think I can tackle this singlehandedly!”

“Yes, let her tackle us!” The women shouted.

“No, Ser Luz! Come on!”

“No really! I can handle this easily!”

“Yes, she can! Quite easily!” The women agreed.

“There’s only 150 of them!” Ser Luz shouted as she was forced through the door.

“Yes, we haven’t a chance! Ahh, Shit.” They stopped as the knights followed Ser Luz out.

Ser Boscha continued to hold Luz’s arm, dragging her away from the castle. As they continued to argue.

“Looks like we got here in the nick of time! You were in great peril!”

“I really don’t think I was.”

“Yes, you were, terrible peril.”

“Tell you what? Let me go back and face that peril.”

“No, too perilous.”

“Just a little bit of peril?”

“Nope! Not healthy.”

“Don’t tell me you’re a homophobe.”

“I am not!”

  Eda held up her dismembered hand while shrugging, “It’s only a flesh wound.”

 “Ser Boscha! You came to rescue me!”

“Lady Skara!” Ser Boscha looked around wildly, lowering her sword. “You’re the one getting married against your will?”

“Oh, it’s just like the stories! I feel like I could… could!” Skara opened her mouth to sing. Disembodied romantic music started to hum around them…

“STOP THAT, STOP THAT!” Skara’s father came in, wildly waving his hands and the music died back down. “Who are you?”

“I’m your daughter!” Skara answered.

“Not you! You! Did you kill all those guards?”

“Uhh, oh! Yes,” Ser Boscha nodded awkwardly. “Sorry.”

“You killed 8 wedding guests and the groom and his father! And wounded 20 others!”

“Yes, uhh, sorry about that. Got a bit carried away there,” Boscha looked back at Skara briefly. “I can explain. See I was riding from Camelot…”

“Camelot? You’re uhh, from Camelot?”

“Umm… Yes?”

“Oh, well! Would you like a drink?”

“Oh, that’s awfully kind of you,” Ser Boscha allowed herself to be led away by Skara’s father.

“Yes, but to apologize for the damages you’ll have to stand before everyone…”

“Oh, uhh understandable.”

“…And repeat some vows from a priest…”

“Uhh, sure?”

“And kiss my daughter…”

“Wait, what?”

 “Halt! I am Tibbles! Guardian of the Bridge of Death! You must answer my questions to see the other side!”

“Ask your questions I’m not afraid!” Eda defiantly said.

“What is your name? What is your quest? And WHAT… is your favorite color?”

“Oh! Uhh, Eda of Camelot, I seek the holy grail and red.”

Tibbles waited a second before waving her along, “Alright off you go.”

“Oh, thank you,” Eda said as she started to cross the bridge.

“That’s it! That’s Easy!” Ser Mattholomule shouted as he moved up. “Ask me the questions, bridge keeper. I’m not afraid!”

“What is your name? what is your quest? And WHAT… is the capitol of Assyria?”

“Ser Matt! To find the Holy grail. And, uhh… Istanbull?”

Ser Matt was flung violently into the air by an explosion sending him tumbling into the ravine with a scream.

King Lilith and Ser Bump shared a look before the King stepped forward.

“What is your name? What is your quest? And WHAT… is the air speed velocity of an unladen swallow?”

Lilith paused before answering, “What do you mean? African or European?”

“I don’t know that,” Tibbles said before being violently flung to his doom.

“How do you know so much about swallows?” Bump asked.

“You have to know these things when you’re King,” Lilith said as they moved to cross the bridge.

They got to the other side, but Eda was nowhere in sight.

“Eda? EDA?! Now where did she get off to?”

*Scene change*

Eda had her hands against a cop car while Police bobby Kikimora patted her down for contraband.

 “My Brave Knights! We will take this Castle by Force! Now Follow Me! To GLORY!” King Lilith and Ser Bump charged with swords drawn, a massive army following them with a shout.

They made it a few feet closer to the castle’s walls when sirens announced the cop cars which slid to a halt in front of them.

“That’s them! They’re the ones who left the Coven!” Kikimora shouted as she emerged from the lead car.

“Alright, you two are under arrest,” Police bobby Belos directed. “Put that sword down and turn around.”

“Now wait a minute,” Lilith said as she was turned around and handcuffed. “I think there’s been a mistake!”

“Alright! Nothing to see here people!” The Golden Guard waved the army back. “Everyone go home now! Keep it moving!”

“Hey, You!” Warden Wrath advanced menacingly. “Stop Your Writing! Stop it Now!” He continued to shout as he reached out towards Pra370r1an to slap his hands away from th-..-_>--.-;’.-

 “On second thought, let’s not go to Camelot…” King Lilith decided, thinking on the many show tunes probably being sung right now. “Tis a silly place…”

Her knights nodded in agreement.

[illfoandillfie]

Interloper

Request:  Sorry if this is a weird request but can you do a thing where the reader is apart of Queen and after a concert Roger, Brian and John just pass her around like she’s just holes to fuck but when they’re done they’re all super soft and sweet (and Reader’s maybe a little snarky)

Pairing: Roger Taylor x Brian May x John Deacon x Reader

Warnings: Big Ol’ Smut-fest - 18+!, Hate fucking (kind of?), oral sex (m receiving), degradation, facial, handjob, unprotected sex, anal, light spanking, orgasm delay, choking, nipple play, tit fucking (blink and you’ll miss it), free use,dom/sub dynamics (sub!reader)

Words: 5990

A/N: I seem to have gotten myself a reputation for writing group sex and honestly i love that for me. (Is it my brand?) Anyway, I hope the anon who requested this enjoys it!

Taglist: @laedymoon  @somekind-ofcheese @dtfrogertaylor @ezmina98  @vee-ndetta @atomic-watermelon @kellypenac @labessieisallama @deakyclicks @jennyggggrrr @drowseoftaylor @bowiequeen

The stadium was darker now than it had been when you left the stage. It was quieter too, no longer drowned in the noise of the music or the crowd. They’d been wild, making you feel truly welcome on the stage for the first time since the tour started a week earlier. You sighed and dropped what remained of your cigarette next to your previous one, grinding it under the heal of your boot. If you were lucky the boys would have already headed off to the afterparty, left you to get changed in peace and make your way there in your own time. It was part of why you stayed behind, hidden in the wings as you watched the last of the crowd drift out and roadies pack up the instruments and dismantle the lighting rig. You’d needed a smoke anyway, and to try and burn every second of the show into your long-term memory, so it was the perfect excuse. Although, you would have done anything to avoid the rude comments and criticism that were sure to be hurled in your direction had you headed backstage straight away. Because that’s all you’d been getting lately. Not from Freddie, though if anyone had a right to bitch and moan it was him since you were playing second vocalist. Brian’s attitude you could also understand since they had you on guitar for a couple of songs too, but John and Roger had absolutely no right to treat you as appallingly as they had been. You thought it was out of some stupid sense of band loyalty but Freddie insisted it was because they missed shagging you. Maybe you were both right.  

Your footsteps echoed off the walls as you made the solitary journey back to the dressing rooms to change into something a little less stage worthy but no less eye-catching, praying you’d find it empty. You were almost there when you heard voices coming from the other end of the corridor. It had to be them on their way out. With a deep breath you squared your shoulders and held your head high and kept walking right at them. Roger whacked into your shoulder as he passed you, with far too much force for it to be an accident.  “Watch it arsehole,” you spat at his back.  He flicked the V at you.  “Out of the way,” Brian snarled as he shoved past you, followed by a snickering John. You ignored them as best you could, continuing on your way. Clearly the phenomenal show had done nothing to change their minds. If anything, they were more aggro now, having seen the audience, their fans, embrace you wholeheartedly. Freddie was a few steps behind them, flashing you an apologetic look as he reached you, but you waved him off.  “It’s fine,”  “Their being right cocks and you know it.”  “Yeah but I don’t know how to get them to stop. I’ve tried explaining, I’ve tried reasoning, I’ve tried being a bitch, I’m giving up. Clearly it doesn't matter to them that we used to get on so well, so I’m done trying.”  “They need a good stern talking to. Sit them down like naughty schoolboys and yell for a bit.”  You laughed, “Yeah, maybe."  “All I know is It's getting boring, this winging.”  “For me two Fred. But they can’t keep it up for the whole tour, that’s bloody months. They’ll have to get sick of it soon.  His shrug was disheartening but he didn’t have a chance to say much more as Brian called for him to hurry up.  “Do you want me to wait for you?”   “Nah, you go ahead,”  He nodded, leaving you with a squeeze of your shoulder. You took your time getting changed into a short tight dress, sequins around the hem to catch the light, perfect for a party and, bonus, not stinking of your sweat, before grabbing your stuff and heading out to the car.  

The party was in full swing when you got there, music blaring and drinks flowing. You rolled your eyes at the sight of Brian chatting up a woman almost young enough to be his daughter and skirted around them on your way to the bar. You were two shots in, starting to wonder which of the people making eyes at you would be worth your time, when you felt a hand on your waist. Turning your head just enough to see him out of the corner of your eye you realised who it was, cutting him off before he could utter whichever godawful pickup line he was about to use.  “Fuck off Roger, I’m not who you’re looking for.”  His hand slipped away from you, “Oh for fucks sake, it’s you.” He was slurring just enough to notice, “Thought you’d be off slutting it up by now.”  “Isn’t that your job?”  “Pretty rich coming from someone who blew her way to the top. At least I fucking worked for it.”  “You know I worked for it too,”  “Sure, worked at suppressing your gag reflex.”  “God I am so fucking sick of this shit. How many times do I have to tell you none of it was my fucking idea? Freddie was the one who set up the meeting with the record company and they were the ones who thought it’d be a good idea to stick me on the album. I didn’t volunteer for this. Believe me, if I had shagged myself into a record contract I wouldn’t be hanging around with you pricks. I’d be releasing my own album with my own songs.”  “You used to like our pricks. Couldn’t get enough of them.”  “Jesus, Freddie was right.”  “About what?”  “Nothing. Sod off would you? There’s a guy over there who looks hung and easy and your scaring him off,”  “Not me, love, your atrocious singing’s done that already.”  “You’re such a wanker.”  “Bitch,”  “Cunt,”  “Now now children. Meant to be a party.” Freddie said, tapping on the bar for another drink.  “It’s fine Fred, I’m...”  “Don’t you dare say you’re going. This is your party too and it’s much too early for a cohost to leave,” he turned towards Roger, “pull your head in Rog, just for one night.”  “Can’t believe you’d take her side in all this, she’s a fucking bitch,”  “Used that one already Rog, getting sloppy.”  “Oh enough already. I’m sick of the constant bickering. Where are Bri and Deaky we need to have a band meeting, upstairs, now.”  “Christ, don’t get your knickers in a twist.”  “Just find them.” 

Freddie charmed the key to a function room out of the bartender’s hands and the two of you made your way upstairs. You both fell silent as you waited in the dimly lit room. There were a number of large round tables covered in white table clothes, each surrounded by chairs. Some of them were still laid out with cutlery and half-drunk jugs of water, left overs from whichever event had finished before your party started, the staff called away to help man the bar and offer appetisers to everyone downstairs before they could finish tidying up.  “Wonder what was going on in here?” you asked as you sat in one of the chairs  “Wedding reception?” Freddie ventured, halfheartedly.  You both fell silent, not entirely sure what else to say. He’d listened to you whine about the other three enough times to know everything you were thinking and you could tell his patience was wearing thin. It took the others about twenty minutes before they joined you, grumbling the whole time.  “C’mon Fred, what’s this about? Ruined my shot with Tabitha just now,”  “Tabitha? That’s a cat’s name,”  “Shut up Deacy,”  Roger laughed as he dropped into a spare seat, already pushed out from a table.  “Shut up all of you.” Fred said loud enough to make them pause.  John turned away from Brian, looking for a place to sit, when his eyes fell on you, the grin sliding off his face, “What’s she doing here? Thought this was a band meeting?”  “It is,”  “She’s not part of the fucking band Fred,”  “On this tour she is.”  “No way,” Brian half shouted, “If that interloper is here then I’m going,”  “Brian, fucking hell, just stop for two seconds.” Freddie stepped in front of the door to block Brian’s path, and looked over to you. For a moment you thought he was going to try and appease Brian by throwing you out but instead he just said, “give them a right bollocking,” before darting out the door and slamming it shut. All four of you were frozen until you heard the unmistakable sound of the lock and then Brian was at the door, jiggling the knob and yelling, “let us the fuck out of here Mercury, or I swear to God.”  “Not until you sort your shit out.” Freddie yelled back, “I’m off to have another drink, I’ll be back in a few hours and I expect you all to be friends by the time I return.” 

“This is all your fault,” Roger pointed at you, catching the attention of the other two, “You shouldn’t even be here,”  “And why not?”  “Because you’re not part of Queen.”   “You heard Freddie, I am for this tour.”  Your statement was met with scoffs of derision and rolled eyes.  “Jesus, what is your problem?” You turned your back on Brian to glare at John and Roger, waiting for someone to answer. John was the first to speak, surprising you. His resentment had always been a bit quieter than the other two, whispered comments and underhanded criticisms rather than outright name calling. If anyone had been taking bets you would have placed your money on Brian throwing the first stone.   “Our problem is you. Just turned up one day and started singing”  “And playing guitar,” Brian chimed in.  “Yes, exactly,” John continued, pointing at Brian to emphasise his point, “And we had to change shit to accommodate you.”  “It was okay for a song or two but a whole album?” Brian scoffed, “And then we were told you were joining us on tour! Is it gonna happen again with the next album? It’s like your trying to worm your way into a permanent place in this band and we don’t like it.”  “Groupie’s aren’t meant to be on the fucking stage with the band they whore around for.” That was Roger.  “Jesus fucking Christ,” you got to your feet, unable to sit still any longer, “You’re acting like fucking children. You know full fucking well I didn’t organise this and if you really have that much of a problem you can take it up with any of the execs. It was all their idea. Easy way to get my name out there since I’m already acquainted with you.” You paused for a moment to take a breath, “Freddie was fucking right about you. You’re not upset with my performance. You know damn well I can sing and obviously everyone else thinks I’m good enough to be here. No, the real reason you’re all pissed off is that I don't fuck you anymore.” the longer you spoke the louder you got, feeding off the stunned looks the boys were giving each other, “You’re threatened by me because I used to be your groupie and now I’m standing in your spotlight. You’re mad that I’m getting the same sort of attention you used to get from me. Bet you get a little jealous every time you see me with some other guy. Maybe I should take it as a bit of a compliment though, since apparently no one else can suck or fuck as well as me.”  Minutes passed in almost silence, the only sound you huffing as the rage at weeks of mistreatment was released. You caught your breath, and still no one talked. The silence felt like it was closing in on you, pressing against your ears as you waited for one of them to say something in return. When none of them did you brought your hands to your hips and stared them all down, “Nothing to say? Guess that means I’m right. So I’ll make you a deal.”  “A deal?” Brian was trying to act unimpressed but there was curiosity in his tone.  “Tonight. I’ll give you tonight like I used to before you all turned into giant fucking arseholes. And in return you stop bitching about me being here. I’m not going anywhere so either you can accept my offer and be nice to me for the rest of this tour, or you can spend the next couple of months being petty dickheads. No skin off my nose what you choose. Either way I walk away from this one step closer to releasing my own music.”  “What do you mean tonight?” Roger asked, leaning forward in his seat.  “I mean that for the rest of the night I’m yours. You can share me around, do whatever you want with me, treat me like your own personal slut. And then tomorrow you’ll be nice to me. You’ll complement my singing instead of picking apart my performance. You’ll keep your rude comments and name calling to yourselves. And you’ll accept that I’m playing with you until we get told otherwise. Deal?  The three of them looked at each other. Clearly that was the last thing they’d expected you to say.  “Well? Are you in? Because if not I’m happy to try breaking down the door instead.”  “Knees. Now.”  “Jeez, alright Rog,” you rolled your eyes at his sudden shift, “d’you want me to call you Sir as well, or will my silent obedience suffice?”  “God she’s got a mouth on her,” John said, stalking towards where you stood in the middle of them all, “think it needs to be filled.”  “You always did like my mouth, didn’t y-” you were cut off by the way he grabbed your face in one hand, fingers and thumb pressing into your cheeks.  “Bitch has got an attitude problem,” he announced to the other two before lowering his voice and speaking directly to you again, “Now kneel like you were told to, so we can fuck it out of you.”  You nodded as much as you could, cheeks aching under his firm grip. He held you for a moment longer, staring at you as if he were daring you to talk back again, before he let you go. You fell to your knees instantly, looking up at him as he undressed methodically. You would have helped him tug his pants off except that Roger moved to kneel behind you, holding your wrists firmly behind your back while he leaned into your ear.  “You can call me Sir if you like. Daddy works too, know you get wet just saying it. Whatever you choose I hope you’ll remember to keep being good for us, love. We’re gonna use you every single way we can think of tonight. Show you how frustrated we’ve been with this whole situation.” The hand he wasn’t using to pin your wrists moved over your body, making you breakout in goosebumps as he teased your nipples through the fabric of your dress.  “Remind us what your safeword is,” John said, stepping closer as he lazily stroked his dick.  “Saxophone,”  “Saxophone. Good. Now open wide,” he tapped the tip of his cock against your lips and you took him in. Roger’s grip on your wrists tightened as your hand twitched, your instinct to wrap your fingers around John’s cock trying to take over. Instead you had to content yourself with bobbing down his length, pressing your tongue to the underside as you adjusted to him.  “Good girl,” he cooed softly, “gonna deepthroat me like a proper whore.”  You hum caught him off guard and he bucked his hips into you. The gag you made in response ruined any chance you’d had of taking your time to adjust, sending John into a frenzy and encouraging him to make you gag again and again. Before you knew it, he was holding your head steady as he fucked your throat, unrelentingly. Between John’s grunts and Roger’s hand, still toying with your breasts, you were completely oblivious to Brian. So, Roger releasing your hands and Brian yanking one of them up over your head, was a complete surprise. You placed the other against John’s thigh as Brian nudged your open palm with his semi-hard cock, rubbing himself against you until you closed your hand around him. Your position made it difficult to jerk him off properly, but you could feel him getting harder as he rutted into your hand. Roger took advantage of his now free hands, trailing both down your body and onto your thighs before dragging them slowly up and under the skirt of your dress. You could feel the sequins around your hem scratching lightly over your skin as the material was pushed to bunch up around your waist. You jerked your head back, releasing John with a pop as Roger rubbed your clit over your underwear. He stopped too soon, making you whine, and instead placed a hand on the back of your head.  “Thought you said we could do whatever we want with you. Don’t recall anyone saying you could stop,” he pushed your head forward again until you were once again gagging around John, “now this was your idea so you’re gonna be a good whore and take what we give you.” He gripped your hair and pulled you back before shoving you down again, all the while talking in your ear, “John wants you to swallow so you’re gonna swallow. If we want you to beg, you’ll beg. Whatever we give you, you will take and you will thank us for it. We’re going to use every inch of you. We don’t care how prettily you sing for everyone or how much money you make for the execs. We only care about how well you take our cocks, understand?”  You had no hope of responding as John resumed thrusting into your mouth but Roger didn’t seem to mind, more concerned with feeling you up. 

John’s hands replaced Roger’s on your head, his grip tightening as his orgasm drew closer. Each jerk of his hips had you gagging, mascara ringing your eyes where tears had clung to your eyelashes and been blinked off. He came with a string of grunted curses, filling your mouth, and ordered you to swallow before he let go of you, streaks of bright lipstick left in your wake. Brian gave you the few seconds it took for him to move in front of you and kick off his pants before he was grabbing your hair and pulling your mouth to his cock. With both hands free you clung to his legs, creating small, crescent shaped indents on the back of his thighs. You only noticed Roger’s absence when John, sunk to his knees beside you, his fingers taking up where Roger’s had been, prying your underwear away from you for long enough to shove his hand inside and run his fingers along your slit, pausing at your clit to rub it softly.  “God you’re fucking soaked,” he laughed, “Don’t know why I’m surprised. You came up with this little plan way too quickly for it to be spur of the moment. I think you’ve missed being our fuck toy. Probably been looking for an excuse to present yourself to us like this. I think you like being used by us and I think you missed having your holes full of us. Missed how we taste, how we make you feel,” his fingers pressed harder against your clit briefly before shifting back to the softer touch, “I think the spotlight of the stage can’t compare to the rush you feel knowing you’ve been a perfect whore for us.”  You whined around Brian earning a panted laugh from him,  “That’s right, slut,” he said from above you, “keep making those sounds. Know you want me to cum in your mouth. And all it does is prove us right.”  John pushed a finger into you, and another of your whines was muffled by Brian, burying his cock in your throat, holding you with your nose pressed into his pubic hair. A shiver ran through your body as your dress was unzipped, falling open to expose your bare back. Your chest tightened, screaming for air, and you frantically tapped on Brian’s thigh. He let you go, reeling backwards with a final gag as he slipped from your mouth and you were free to gasp for air.   “F-fuck,” you managed to choke out as your dress was unceremoniously pushed off your shoulders and down your arms. Brian was still in front of you, hand sliding up and down his shaft as he readjusted his other hand in your hair, pulling your head up a little higher.  “Close your eyes and open your mouth,” he growled, holding you still. The last thing you saw before you shut your eyes was his hand speed up, working himself to release his load over your face. Some of it landed on your tongue but more splattered over your cheek and chin.   Brian chuckled as he ran two of his impossibly long fingers over your chin, pushing the cum up to your lips. You dutifully sucked on his fingers but a loud bark of laughter distracted both you and Brian. 

“What the fuck are you doing carrying lube around in your jacket, Rog?” John was collapsed on the floor in a fit of giggles.  “What? Thought that girl with the big arse might show up again tonight, wanted to be prepared.”  “You’ve been wearing the jacket all day, how long has it been in there?”  “Not that long, Crystal got it for me after the show. But y’know,” he pushed on your back between the shoulder blades until you fell forward onto your hands, “you wanna make fun of me, you won’t get to fuck her arse.” He brought his hand down onto your backside, making you jump. You felt your dress being pushed up to your waist, and your underwear being slipped down your legs until they were tangled around your knees. There was a brief pause as you heard him unzip is his pants. The next thing you expected to hear was him popping open the lube, but instead he eased into your cunt. He went slow but it made your breath catch in your throat all the same. Once he was buried in you as deep as he could go he began to pull out again, almost all the way before he snapped his hips forward, driving back into you hard.  “Oh, fuck,” you gasped, letting yourself collapse on your arms, resting your head against them. You could feel the last of Brian’s cum smearing across your cheek and onto your arm as Roger continued his slow pace. You’d almost forgotten about the lube until you head him flick open the tube. It was cold against you when he squirted a generous amount over your arse, carefully using his fingers to begin stretching you out. You moaned, the combination of his fingers and his cock pushing you steadily closer to orgasm. But not fast enough. You moved your arm, slipping it under your body with the idea of rubbing your clit until you came.  “Would one of you stop her?”  John grabbed your arm and pulled it back before you could get your fingers where you wanted them.   “No, please, I need more,” you whined, shifting your other arm out from under your head. Brian grabbed that one, both of them pinning your wrists out in front of you.  “Please let me touch,” you said into the carpet, trying to wriggle free of their grip. Roger brought the hand that wasn’t occupied down on you again, drawing a yelp from you.  “Told you we were gonna show you how frustrated we’ve been. So you don’t get to cum that easily. If you’re good you’ll be rewarded.”  He picked up his pace, rolling his hips into you faster, making you cry out though he wasn’t angled quite right to hit your g-spot. Without warning he pulled his fingers from your arse and you found yourself being yanked up, Roger’s hand wrapping around your throat to hold you against his chest. You could hear Brian laughing as your eyes fluttered shut and you moaned, only for Roger to squeeze your throat and cut it off. For a moment you floated there, willing Roger to just make you cum, but the sound of a chair being dropped in front of you brought you back to the room. John sat down and leaned forward to grab your tits, tugging on your nipples until you winced.   “Y’know, going bra-less was completely unnecessary in that dress. Just more proof you wanted to whore around for us.” He said as he used his hold on your nipples to pull you away from Roger’s chest. Roger’s hand remained tight on your throat as John slid his cock between your breasts, using his grip and the motion of Roger’s thrusts into you, to push them up and down his shaft.  “She likes it when you call her a whore. Fuckin’ squeezes her cunt.”  “Is that right, huh? You want to be our pretty cumslut that badly? Good. We’re gonna cover you in it. Gonna fill you so full of spunk you won’t be able to move without it dripping down your legs. And you’re going to beg for it, aren’t you? Go on, beg roger to cum in your pussy.”  “Pl-ease, Roger, please cu-m in my pussy.”  “More,” Roger growled as he rammed into you again and again, rapidly heading towards his climax.  “Pl-please cum in me Rog. I nee-ed it. Want, want to fee-l you fi-ll my pussy.”  Roger slammed into you twice more, hard, holding himself balls deep in you as he hit his release, grunting, voice strained as he told you what a good whore you were. 

You whined as his softening cock slipped out of you and he moved aside. But you didn’t have time to miss the feeling of being filled too much before Brian was placing his arms under your shoulders and lifting you to your feet. John stood and pushed your dress and panties from you completely, leaving you naked. You let them pull you around, barely able to concentrate on anything other than the ache between your legs and the tight coil in your stomach that felt like it could spring loose at any moment. John pushed himself onto one of the tables, legs dangling over the edge as Brian lifted you up too. You were unceremoniously dumped on John’s lap, his hands pulling you until you were lined up with his cock. He swatted at your thigh. You squeaked and sunk down onto him, rocking against him.  “Where’d that lube go?”  There was some shuffling noises from somewhere behind you followed by a triumphant, “aha!” and then John was grabbing your hips to stop you as Brian came closer. When he spoke he was right behind you, his breath on your ear sending a shiver down your spine.  “Since Rog was so good as to stretch you out for me, shouldn’t have any problems taking my cock,” he turned and spoke over his shoulder, “Thanks Rog.”  “Yeah yeah, whatever,” Roger said, voice distorted by the cigarette between his lips.  You leaned forward, wrapping your arms around John’s neck as Brian spread your cheeks and began easing himself into you. John teased you the entire time, rolling your nipples between his fingers as he told you how hot you sounded whimpering like you were. By the time Brian was fully sheathed inside you, you were panting against John’s shoulder, desperate for one of them to move properly. You squirmed between them, trying to encourage them to fuck you but neither was having it.   Brian slapped your thigh, “Hold still. You’ll get to cum once you’ve proved you can be a good slut for us.”  “I will. I am. I promise I’ll be the best slut you’ve ever had, please just fuck me.” You whined, lifting your head up so they could all hear you properly.  A chorus of laughter followed, even as you continued to beg. You were cut off mid word as Brian pulled back and plunged into you again, starting slow but rapidly picking up speed. John leaned back on one hand, his other resting on your hip, letting you rock forward on his cock with every one of Brian’s thrusts. It was by no means the first time you’d ridden John or the first time you’d let Brian in your back entrance, but you’d never had them both at the same time before. You were left completely breathless, feeling fuller than you ever had in your life. Brian was in your ear, breath coming hard as he semi-coherently grunted his thoughts about how fucking tight you felt and how much he’d missed fucking you like this. His hands were all over you, trying to find the best way to hold you as John did the same, occasionally knocking each other out of the way. The closer to the edge he drew, the tighter John held you, pushing himself to sit up a little more so he could grip you with both hands. It was intoxicating, feeling both of them practically fighting over where they could touch you, hold you, the almost innocent skin to skin contact making you burn up. Your own moans were rising in pitch as Brian slammed into you repeatedly, each thrust making your clit drag against John’s pubic bone. You shook as you finally came, feeling Brian still behind you, shooting ropes of cum into you as he groaned in your ear. John dropped his head to your shoulder as you clenched around him, swearing as he came.   “Shit,” he gasped as his orgasm subsided, “Was planning to cum on your tits. Pussy just felt too good though.” 

You could feel the mix of his and yours and Roger’s cum dripping down the inside of your thigh as John gingerly helped you off the table.   “Does that mean she’s ready for me again?” Roger asked, grabbing your hair and yanking your head back. You whimpered as he spun you round, pushing you to bend over the table. He wasted no time, plunging into your arse as you balled up the crisp white tablecloth in your fists.  “Like you best like this, a fucked out whore, all placid and obedient. No more snarky fucking comments. Just holes begging to be filled.”  You cried out as his fingers found your clit, relentlessly determined to push you over the edge again. Cum dripped out of you with every shift of your hips, little drops hitting the floor between your feet. All you could do was whine and moan as Roger ruthlessly used you, gasping and groaning himself.  “Attagirl,” Roger gently cooed when you came, shaking. He slapped your arse again as he drew closer to the edge, leaning his whole body weight on you as he fell over it. He removed himself from you and helped you to stand, catching you when your legs began to give out. You were gently lowered to the floor where you lay down, arms spread wide, breathing deeply.  “You look good like this,” Brian said, kneeling beside your head, “Makeup all smudged, sweaty and dripping. You look used.”  “You laughed softly as he lifted your head and shoulders, propping you up so you could lean against his knees.  Roger reached out to brush a sweaty strand of hair from your face, “Are you okay?”  “Yeah,” you cleared your throat to make your voice stronger, “Especially since you’re all being nice to me again.”  “Sorry we were such pricks, promise you won’t hear another bad word from us. Unless it’s well deserved.”  Before you could respond John was dropping beside you, a jug of water in one hand and a handful of paper napkins in the other.  “Sorry, door’s still locked so we can’t actually get to the bathroom or anything. But I found these on one of the tables, if you wanted to clean up.”  You thanked him, dipping the corner of one napkin in the water and taking it straight to your face, scrubbing to remove the remnants of Brian’s cum from your cheek.  “Hang on, love, missed a spot,” Roger said, taking the napkin from you and swiping at your chin. You could tell he was trying to be as gentle as possible, smiling at you when you thanked him. Brian’s fingers found their way to your arms, trailing soft, calming lines up and down your skin as you relax into him. John did a similar thing over the calf he’d knelt beside, although it felt less deliberate than Brian’s movements.   “Do you want some help cleaning up the rest of it?” John asks, pointing vaguely between your legs, cheeks still slightly flushed from the exertions of the previous few hours.  “Jeeze Deaky, give her a chance to recover before you try and get started on round...what are we up to?”  “Bugger off, that’s not what I meant,” John says, shoving Roger slightly. He turned to you, “I swear it wasn’t. You just look tired.”  “I know, John,” you reassure him, “but I think I’d rather do it myself. Sensitive and all that.”  Brian dipped his head down, pressing a soft kiss to your temple, “None of us have said it yet but you were wonderful. Firstly, for suggesting it and also for taking it all so well.”  “Y’know it’s a bit of a shame you didn’t add to the mess, Brian. Could have had all three of you leaking out of me.”   “There’s still time,” Roger said, grinning mischievously at you, “technically you did promise us the rest of the night, and if I’ve gotta hold my tongue around you for months then I’d like to get as much use out of you as I can.”  “He’s right, you did say all night. And I’m certain we could find plenty of other ways to keep you busy.”  “Are you guys serious?” you said as you tilted your head back to look up at Brian, “You really wanna go again? Now?”  “Don’t worry, we’ll need a bit of time to recover first.”  “Perhaps,” John said, leaning in slightly, “Once we get out of this room, we can take you back to the hotel and figure out what else to do with you. Personally I’d like to see your tits painted with cum, but I’m sure the other two have ideas of their own.”  “Might have to stuff your panties into your cunt to stop any more from dripping out of you.” Roger said, voice low and rough, making you clench your thighs together.  “I guess I did say all night,” you said, trying not to sound too excited, “but this means I get to write a song on the next album.”  “Don’t push it, love. Just because we’re being nice doesn’t mean we’re over it.” 

By the time Freddie remembered to come and get you the four of you had redressed and cleaned up the mess you’d made. He’d opened the door to find you sitting around talking and laughing.  “Well this is different,” his voice drew your attention, “Thought I’d come back and find at least some evidence of a fight. But instead, no yelling, no broken chairs, no black eyes.”  “We came to an agreement,” you said shrugging, “They’re going to play nice from now on.”  “Y/N you common hussy, you fucked them all didn’t you? You know that’s not the sort of bollocking I meant.” 

[mymelodyheart]

Highland Destiny Chapter 5 ~Dinner for Two~

They were standing in the middle of the lounge, suspended in time and space, between heaven and earth, looking into one another's eyes. Claire's hand was still in Jamie's, his fingers generating tiny sparks that surged erratically through her body, fanned into a flame with just a little pressure of touch. His eyes, dark with wanting, bore into her soul, sending delicious heat to her core. She felt the sudden rush of blood to her head as her heart raced, scattering all logic and reasoning into some unknown dark abyss. She tried to summon a memory from the past; Frank, Oxford, the hospital corridors, her parents, uncle Lamb... anything to keep her from drowning into Jamie's deep blue. But it was futile. She was falling, dropping, slipping, but she had no idea into where.

The electrically charged interlude was interrupted by the sound of ringing from Claire's iPhone, jarring them from their trance and making them both blink. "  Dhia  !" Jamie murmured under his breath as his hand released Claire's, to rub the nape of his neck.

Ding! Ding! Saved by the bell. 

O' sweet Lord Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ! Ding ding indeed!

Regaining a tiny bit of composure, Claire reached behind the back pocket of her jeans, extracting her phone. "I need to take this," she whispered hoarsely, barely audible.

He nodded and motioned with his hands towards the doorway as he made his way to the kitchen. She nodded back with an apologetic smile.

Seeing the image of the caller on her phone, Claire momentarily forgot Jaime and what just transpired. "Geillis, darling!"

"Hiya chick! How are you daein'? O' my God, o' my God ah heard from Joe yoo're in town. Sae, ye moved here for good?" answered an animated woman's voice in broad Glaswegian.

" Absobloodylootely – YES! Oh God, it's so good to hear your voice, Geillis. We ought to meet up as soon as possible. Listen, are you free Friday night? If so, let's catch up then. It has been bloody ages!"

"Och this is so excitin'! Aye definitely, let's meet up. Maybe Joe will come too. Ah cannae wait tae see you and show you our shop. By th' way, what's wrang wi' ye? Ye sound like ye hae bin runnin'. 'Tis a bad time?"

Claire twisted backwards to peek through the doorway. She saw Jamie leaning over the sink, splashing water to his face and neck and felt the heat crept up her own. "Well, kind of. Look, sorry to make this short but got to go. I promise to call you first thing tomorrow. Is Scotch & Rye Pub on Friday at 7 ok? I've been told that its the place to be. We can grab some fish and chips if you fancy."

"Brilliant, sorted! Scotch & Rye pub it is then Friday at 7! Ah cannae wait. An', och, Claire...you hae a laddie there wi' ye?" She can almost see her friend's cheeks dimpling and giving a wicked wink.

"Sod off, Geillis!"   She always knows, the bloody cow!   With that, Claire turned off her phone.

Although she was so thrilled to hear from her friend, the call was a welcomed distraction. Geillis was one of her closest mates in Oxford in medical school. And along with Joe, they were the three Musketeers in the campus until Geillis dropped out. In the earlier days, she developed an interest in Alternative Healing after joining a movement against big pharmaceutical companies; hence, she left her medical studies and followed her boyfriend to Inverness to set up a health and herb shop.

Claire was staring at the phone in her hand when Jamie walked back in. He leaned on the doorway, smiling, his breadth blocking the light from the corridor. "Hey, Sassenach. Shall we start dinner?"

She smiled back. "Sure!" And she followed him to the kitchen taking his outreached hand.

..........

In the next half hour, Claire busied herself with dinner's preparation while Jamie chopped the shallots and washed the chanterelles. Still rattled from earlier, she carefully stirred their conversation onto something neutral and avoided eye contact, but working in such a small area, touching was unavoidable. A couple of times, he had to place his hands on her hips as he navigated narrow spaces, and his mere touch sent bolts of heat coursing through her body. But with his laid-back and relaxed manner, it wasn't long before they were back to bantering and joking. Once the chanterelles had been sauteed, and the rice and shallot simmering in broth and wine, she left him to continue cooking while she washed and changed.

Drying herself after a quick shower and shave, Claire was very conscious of Jaime in the other room. Just knowing that he was there under the same roof was enough to make her heart do somersaults. She could hear him moving about as the wooden floors creaked and the pots and pans banged. For a very big man, he looked right at home and comfortable working in the kitchen.

In her bedroom, she looked for something to wear but looking into her wardrobe, there wasn't really a lot of choices.   Well, it's only Jamie anyway, it's not like it's a date!

Well Beauchamp, ready for round 2? Ding! Ding!

Wot round 2? There will be no round 2.

So why did you shave your legs?

Rubbish! I always shave my legs.

Liar, liar, pants on fire!

Annoyed with herself, she decided to put on a pair of black leggings, an over-sized sweatshirt emblazoned, OXFORD and white woollen socks. She twisted her hair to the top of her head and fastened it with a hair clasp after giving up on taming her wayward curls. Looking into the mirror, she scrunched her nose and poked her tongue out. 

Ok, Beauchamp, let's do this! 

Do what? 

Get laid? 

Not gonna happen. 

But you want to. 

I do not! 

Liar, Liar, Pants on fire!

Sod off!

Satisfied with her reflection, she went to the kitchen.

When Claire walked in, Jaime was in the process of opening a bottle of Chablis. He gave her one of those heart-dropping smiles as he took in the sight of her. His eyes travelled up and down, lingering for a moment at her breast.   Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ! Can he tell I don't have a bra?   She quickly reached down to touch the hem of her sweatshirt to check its thickness. Taking it as an awkward moment, Jamie reached out and guided her to the table, placing a hand on the small of her back. The scent of her favourite food made her stomach growl ferociously. He must have heard her belly rumble. "Hungry Sassenach? he said with a grin.

She was pleasantly surprised to see that Jamie did make himself at home. There was nothing else for her to do: the table was set, the green salad dressed, her flowers haphazardly arranged in the vase and placed on a side table, and he even had a few of her scented candles burning. In the background, she could hear L-O-V-E song by Nat King Cole playing softly in the lounge. In spite of her nervousness, she couldn't help but smile. Maybe the hunger was getting the better of her.

"Very hungry, indeed!" she replied. Then cocking her head, she exclaimed, "Oh my God, Jaime, you have Uncle Lambs record player working! Sorry, I don't have any sound system set up yet. It's been a hectic during the last few days. There's still a lot of things I need to do with this house."

"Och, dinna fash Sassenach. I love old music and light jazz. We still have my grand parent's record player in our family home, and occasionally, we play some of my ma's collections for 'ol time sake. I hope you dinna mind me going through your uncle's records."

"No of course not, that's what it's there for. Maybe after dinner, we can go through some and listen to some old jig."

"That's grand, Sassenach!" He took her hand and kissed the inside of her palm.

Over the next couple of hours, Jamie and Claire got better acquainted over Rissotto and wine. As the evening progressed, Claire began to relax and enjoy herself as they exchanged stories about their families and life. She found Jamie charming, and like most Scots, he was born a storyteller. He spoke of his late parents and his sister in Lallybroch where he grew up, and in return, she reciprocated in kind and spoke of her travels to archaeological sites with Uncle Lamb and what she can remember of her parents.

After dinner, they moved to the lounge to listen to records. While Jamie lit up the log burner and prepared the whisky and tumblers, Claire fixed a tray of strawberries and cream and coffee. Claire couldn't help notice how at ease Jamie was - he looked like he's lived in Uncle Lamb's cottage forever. For the first time she arrived in Inverness, Claire felt at home, and she wondered if it had to do with Jamie.

..........

Three-quarters of the whisky bottle later, Jamie and Claire collapsed on the floor, spent from laughing so much, after attempting to dance the can-can to Sinatra's "New York, New York." Jamie was a terrible dancer, and Claire couldn't help but giggle her way through the routine. After a few more twirls and twists, they decided to call it a night. She didn't want the evening to end, but it was getting rather late. 

Claire got up from the floor and holding up an almost empty bottle in the air, she announced, before slumping on the sofa, "Ok, Jamie, last drink. I'm totally knackered."

Jamie followed suit, but instead of sitting beside her, he sat down on the coffee table facing her. He reached out and took her hands between his own. This time, there was no hint of seduction or suggestion of flirt. "Sassenach, thank ye so much for a lovely evening. I've never laughed so much in my life, but I will need a taxi, I canna drive back home in my state," he said with a slight slur.

"Rubbish, you can stay here, there's plenty of room. I won't have you driving after drinking so much, and you can have my bed, it's the biggest in the house. I'll take the guest room," Claire insisted. She tried to stand up but swayed a bit. As she regained her balance, she looked up at him and smiled. "And Jaime, I had a wonderful time too. Thank you." Claire got on her tip-toes and gave Jamie a kiss on the cheek before swaggering backwards. She giggled. "Ooops."

"Weel, if ye don't mind, then I don't mind either." Jamie slightly unsteady on his feet, caught Claire by the elbows and laughed.

Claire peered into the almost empty bottle of whisky and poured the rest in each of the tumblers. "Good! That's settled then. And no, I don't mind at all. Last drink?" she said, handing a glass to Jaime.

"Aye." And raising his glass, he made a toast. "Slange var Sassenach!"

Claire wobbling on her feet managed to raise her glass, laughing. "Cheers mate!"

After downing their whisky, Claire handed the glasses and empty bottles to Jamie. "Right, I'll go and get some fresh sheets, and you can bring these in the kitchen. Then off to bed."

"To bed or to sleep?" he asked mischievously with a glint in his eyes.

"Ha-ha,"

Claire hurried to the bedroom, slightly zig-zagging as she made her way. That last remark from Jamie made her conscious of him all over again.   Damn you, Jaime!   As she was getting some fresh linens from the cupboard, she heard a thump and glasses falli

"Jamie, are you alright?" She went quickly to the kitchen and found Jamie taking off his shirt stained with wine. On the floor were shards of glass and spilt leftover wine.

"Och sorry Sassenach, I'm not familiar with your house, and I forgot you had boxes laid there. I tripped over them."

Claire thinking he might be still shaky on his feet due to intoxication, pulled him away from the broken glasses. "It's alright, Jamie. Just stand back a little please." After cleaning up, she went over to him to see if he had a cut. "Let me see you hands Jamie."

"Dinna fash Sassenach, it's just a wee cut." He held up his thumb, and she saw there was a shard sticking out. She quickly went to her first aid kit drawer, to get a tweezer, iodine and some cotton. It was a small cut, but the shard had to be taken out. 

Holding Jaime's thumb to the light, she pulled the glass out from the cut, and fresh blood started to flow. Without thinking, as if it was the most natural thing to do, Claire put his thumb to her mouth to suck the blood.   Oh, sweet Mother Mary, what did I just do?    She only came to her senses when she felt Jaime drew a sharp intake of breath. She felt embarrassed. Feeling idiotic and foolish, Claire didn't dare look up to Jaime and slowly released his hand. Head bowed, she realised he had taken off his shirt after forgetting about it for a moment. As her eyes wandered to his naked torso, she noticed his hard washboard abs and the movement of his breathing. On the hollow of his navel, ran a trail of dark reddish-gold hair that disappeared into his jeans. The thought of running her finger on that trail made the insides of her legs quiver. The skin on her face and neck turned hot.   Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ, what have I done, and what am I thinking?

"Sassenach, are you alright?" Jaime said softly as he lifted her chin to look him in the eye. What she saw in Jaime's eye was a concern, instead of his usual mischief. She can only nod, too aware of Jamie's naked torso "You dinna need to be scairt of me - I wouldna force me on you." He paused, taking her hand. "But I would verra much like to kiss you. Would you mind?"

Point of no return, she swallowed. "No Jaime, I wouldn't mind." She paused and then continued, her voice sounding raspy to her ears. "Please kiss me," Then she placed her cool hands on his hard abdomen. 

The moment, Claire touched him, he felt his body was on fire. He thought of the other women in his life in the past,   Louise, Geneva, Annalise, Laoghair e, and looking back, he realised how shallow they have been. The sex was always a welcome release, but beyond that, there was nothing. With Claire, everything came naturally; he was himself, he can laugh, and most of all, she was herself. He looked down at the woman before him but still found himself confused with what he was feeling. 

Jaime, staring into Claire's golden caramel eyes, slowly lowered his head, one hand behind her neck and the other on her waist, pulling her against him. Their lips met, just the lightest touch, but it was enough to send electricity sparks across every nerve ending. It was just a grazing of lips, but he was shaken to the core. He pulled away, his heart hammering, taking shallow breaths. He looked at Claire's beautiful face, her eyes were closed and her lips lightly parted.   Dhia!   Unable to contain himself, he pulled her back once more, this time into a more passionate and intense kiss. He gently thrust his tongue to the opening of her mouth, parting them to delve inside, teasing and probing until she made whimpering sounds. Her own kisses became hot and urgent, her arms snaking around his neck while her fingers ran through his hair, and this made him kiss her harder more. Standing on tiptoes, she pressed her body closer, crushing her breast against his hard chest, sending pleasures down his groin and making Jamie groan.

They pulled away for air, and Jamie searched Claire's face. "Sassenach, I want ye so much, I can scarcely breathe. Will ye have me?" His voice cracked.

He thought his heart would burst when she nodded. 

Feeling emboldened, Jamie then hoisted Claire on to the kitchen counter and clumsily pulled up her sweatshirt, releasing her hair from its clasp and revealing her white breasts. Her curly mass came tumbling down, and Jamie ran his hands through them, raining her neck with urgent kisses and nibbling her earlobes. "  Mo Nighean Donn,"   he whispered. Her legs automatically wrapped themselves around his waist, and she arched her back as an invitation, Jamie's Gaelic endearments making her wild. "Christ Claire, ye are so beautiful!" Jamie whispered in a ragged voice.

Claire moaned loudly as he lowered his head to suckle at each breast, paying homage to each erect nipple. Then his tongue started its frenzied exploration on her skin as his hands tugged at the waistband of her leggings. Once released from the constriction of clothing, Claire said in a husky voice, "Take off your pants, I want you now." 

Seeing Claire exposed on the kitchen counter with her legs apart, was enough to drive Jamie wild with lust. He quickly unbuckled his belt and lowered his jeans without taking his eyes off Claire. Relieved of his jeans, he gathered her into a crushing embrace, his hands fondling her round arse, pressing his hardness against her. Her hips started to rotate, wrapping her legs tighter. He reached down between her thighs, and the feel of her slippery wetness made him groan and grab her thighs even tighter. "Jamie, I want you inside me, please."

Hearing the plea, Jamie lifted her with ease, spreading her legs as he pinned her against the wall. Without a word, he plunged his cock into her wetness. Jamie silenced her cries with a hard kiss thrusting his tongue in the same rhythm as his cock. After a moment, breathing hard, he released her lips, biting and kissing her neck, his hands tightening their hold on her arse as he rammed into her, slamming Claire's back against the kitchen wall. She whispered "harder," and "deeper" as she bit him hard on the neck, which drove Jamie to the edge. He did as she asked and more. As Claire let out a loud cry, her body began to convulse, making his balls tighten. Finding his own abrupt rush of release, Jamie arched his back as he thrust one last time and let out a grunt. 

They held each other for a long while, not speaking, not moving. Eventually, Jamie carried Claire to her bed. She was limp in his arms. As he laid her down, he slipped in under the duvet with her and gathered her close to him. They fitted perfectly. And then he whispered softly,   tha gaol agam ort mo chridhe.

[ineffablegame]

hey for the prompt thing: a/c 43 taking care when the other one's sick?

I hope this doesn’t feel like I phoned it in!  :o

Also available on my Ao3.

In Crawly’s defense, he hadn’t meant to get mixed up in Legion’s nonsense.

He hadn’t even wanted to be in Gerasa.  He’d been shooting for Pella, intent on meeting Aziraphale for evening drinks at a tavern of some repute, but he’d bungled the miracle and sent himself too far east.  He’s been in Gerasa not five minutes before Legion streaks past, clad in the body of an emaciated human and nothing else.  Stupid with shock, Crawly is helpless against Legion’s pull; it sucks him in, as powerful as gravity, and he is trapped inside the pinwheeling pandemonium of the human’s mind before he can so much as blink.  

Legion is a well-known party animal in the bowels of Hell.  Sometimes, they make for a roaring good time.  Whenever the ruling class of Hell looks away long enough for the lesser demons to drum up a party, Legion is always the first on the dance floor, badly-boogying their little heart out.  

This would all have been tolerable – fun, even – if that were the end of it.  But Legion is the sort of obnoxious partier that inspires frat boys ‘round the world to get spectacularly shitfaced, ratchet up the decibels of their bellowing with each successive drink, and plague every woman in a fifty-yard radius with atrocious pick-up lines and beer-rank breath.

They are, in short, an unholy pain in the arse.  And Crawly’s just been forced to share some poor sod’s body with them.  

“Crawly!” they exclaim.  Their voice is a cataclysm of shrieks and squeals and wrenching moans, impossible for the human larynx to replicate.  Crawly winces as pain lances through the man’s throat.  “How you doin’, buddy?”

“Uh, fine,” he replies automatically, because banal pleasantries are the only blessed thing that make sense in the careening carousal of flashing light flickering image dank dark gibbering sobs please let me go let me go let me GO—  “Er.  Just great.”  

“We haven’t seen you since… shit, can’t remember the last time!”

Yes, Crawly thinks, I’d been rather making an effort with that.

“Where are we?” he asks, because the sooner he gets past the basics, the sooner he’ll be able to disentangle himself and escape.  “Who are we?”

“Hell’s teeth, I dunno!” Legion bellows.  

“So why are we—”

“I was bored!  Buddy, am I glad you came along!  We’re gonna have so much fun with this stupid human!”

Crawly, inwardly grimacing, resigns himself to be an unwilling guest in the revelry.  Legion is an idiot with the attention span of a goldfish; the moment they lose interest and cast the wasted husk of this human body aside, he’ll be free.  He only has to wait.  

Three days later, Legion hasn’t lost interest.  And then Jesus of Nazareth wanders into Gerasa.  

“Hello, there,” says Jesus.

Legion may be a fool, but they know the Son of God when they see him. They pull back the man’s lips in a feral snarl.  “Dude, fuck off.  There’s, like, a ton of us.”

Jesus of Nazareth smiles benignly, head cocked, eyebrows arched.  Crawly, crammed inside a body that feels like it’s withering away by the minute, shivers with a soul-deep terror.  

“There certainly are a lot of you,” says Jesus.  “It’s not right, one person being so many.”  

As he speaks, each word uttered with total composure, Crawly becomes aware of the squeals and snorts of pigs nearby.  He clambers up to the human’s eyes, elbowing fragments of Legion aside for a look.  Over the Son of Man’s shoulder, a boy and his father are guiding their herd of swine toward the scene.  

“I think,” Jesus says, quiet menace creeping into his tone, “that you should go back to being separate.  Now.”

The change is dizzying in its suddenness.  Before Crawly can make sense of what has happened, he is looking up at Mary’s baby boy from an entirely different angle, snorting and snuffling and stamping his trotters in the dirt.  He’s been dropped into a bloody pig like a recalcitrant plant that’s outgrown its pot.  

The squeals around him reach a frantic pitch and Crawly turns, startled.  The other pigs are throwing back their heads with rending screams, eyes rolling, spittle flying from their mouths.  A fragment of Legion has been placed inside each one, and the separation is driving them mad with terror.  They barrel past the boy and his father, heedless of their staffs, and stampede down the rutted dirt road.  It is a narrow road, turning sharply to hug a cliff face overlooking a deep, cold lake.

Jesus blinks.

A thunderous rumbling sound judders over Legion’s screams and the road buckles, crumbles.  Crawly watches, relief warring with terror, as each pig topples after the other like chain link following chain link to vanish, shrieking and cursing, over the side of the cliff.  The sound of frantic splashing ensues, cut short with preternatural swiftness.  Silence descends.  

Jesus turns to Crawly, who shrinks into himself inasmuch as a two-hundred and fifty-pound hog can shrink.  But the Christ’s smile is no longer menacing; in fact, it’s practically pleasant, warming Crawly from the tip of his snout to the end of his curly tail.  His every demonic instinct warns him against that warmth – that his will is being leaned on, manipulated – but it’s difficult to focus when he feels suddenly so content.

“Hello, Crowley,” says Jesus.

“That’s not my name,” Crawly replies.  It’s all squealing and snorting, but the Word of Life understands him anyway.  

“My mistake,” Jesus says, in the unbothered, smiling way of someone quite certain they aren’t mistaken.  “Crawly, is it?”

“Maybe,” Crawly mumbles.

“Sorry about that.  The snout, I mean.  Legion had quite the hold on you.”

“Um… it’s fine…?”

“I’ll sort you out right now.”  Her Only Begotten Son rubs his palms together in a way that, some millennia later, will come to mind when Aziraphale embarks on his one-sided love affair with magic tricks.  “Send you off to your friend.”

“My wh—”

Crawly’s vision whites out before he can complete the question.  A moment later, blinking dazedly past the haloes branded on the backs of his eyelids, Crawly finds himself seated at a table, back in his own body.  Aziraphale, siting opposite of him with a jug raised to his lips, stares in wide-eyed amazement.  He lowers the jug.

“Crawly!” he says.  “Why, we were supposed to meet three days ago!  I was worried sick!”

“I’m—”  Crawly pauses, sniffling, and sneezes.  He pointedly ignores the offended expression on Aziraphale’s face as he shields the jug from a drizzle of snot.  Recovering with an accusatory look around the tavern, he continues, “Glad you were able to overcome your crippling worry and c—”  Another sneeze, and this time Aziraphale lifts the jug out of harm’s way.  Crawly soldiers on.  “Carry on without me.”

Aziraphale has the grace to look guilty.  “This is the seasonal menu.  It won’t last much longer.”

“Of course.  How silly of me.”  Crawly points at the jug.  “Give me that.”

“It’s mine,” Aziraphale sniffs.

“Angel.”  Crawly leans across the table, elbows propped on the gnarled wood.  “I’ve been stuck in a human’s body for the last three days with the most annoying demon this side of Creation.  After that, I was trapped inside a sodding pig.  Give.  Me.  That.  Drink.”

His speech would be more persuasive without a dribble of snot hanging off the end of his nose, but Crawly glares at the angel nonetheless, determined not to be cowed.  After a moment of staring, perplexed, Aziraphale passes him the jug.  

“You’re leaking,” the angel says petulantly.

“S’fine.”  Crawly takes a determined swig.  “It’ll pass in a minute, don’t you worry.”

-

It doesn’t pass.  In fact, over the next few days, the sneezing gets worse.  With it comes a ridiculous amount of snot, rivers of the stuff, and chills and fevers and stomach upsets that put him entirely off drinking altogether.  By the seventh day, he is bedridden, wheezing and certain he’s about to be discorporated with Someone’s inventive new take on the plague.  

“Oh, stop being so melodramatic,” Aziraphale says, miracling a square of linen to mop the sweat from his brow.  “You’ll be ship-shape in no time.”

“It was the pigs,” Crawly rambles, staring at Aziraphale with glassy eyes.  “I’ve… I’ve got a pig illness.  A pig flu.  A swine flu.”

Aziraphale, cold-hearted nurse that he is, merely scoffs.  “What rubbish.  ‘Swine flu.’”  He chuckles.  “I’m sure I’ve never heard such nonsense.”

“Bet it’ll be all the funnier when it kills me,” Crawly moans.  “Then you can laugh.”

“Hush.” Aziraphale lays a gentle hand on his brow.  There is no miracle at work – only the cool, steady pressure of his touch.  Somehow, that is enough.  Crawly closes his eyes with a sigh.  

[porkchop-ao3]

A Thrill I’ve Never Known (Chapter 53)

Ball and Chain

Arthur and reader discuss their situation. Thank you guys for all the support on the last chapter after I expressed my worries about it, btw!!

Tagging @emily-strange ❤

(All chapters tagged with #ATINK and also posted on Ao3, username PorkChop)

-

During Arthur's brief return, we hadn't had time to discuss how things had gone with Penelope and Beau (despite his busted lip that I was quick to ask about), Arthur had left for Annesburg as soon as I told him what Micah said. But when he got back that night, he filled me in on the details of the day. I was shocked to hear that simply accompanying Penelope to the train station had turned into Arthur shooting Christ knows how many members of the Braithwaite family from a moving train, but in the end Penelope and Beau got their happy ending. He left them with the stagecoach driver, taking them away to their new life together with a bag-full of stolen jewellery. A piece of which Penelope had given to Arthur as thanks for all of the help, a beautiful stone encrusted bracelet, probably worth a hefty sum. Arthur told me he intended to sell it, keep the money just for us, not giving the camp a cut for once in his life. I could tell it took a lot for him to come to that decision.

And Cornwall was dead. He told me that after a long pause when we were both bedding down for the night. Part of me was surprised that he hadn't told me that as soon as he returned, but the way he said it told me that he hadn't exactly been prepared for it happening. He told me that Dutch had said they were paying a social call, confirming what Micah had said about trying to cut a deal to get him off our backs. But it had turned into a bloodbath, just as most jobs did these days, and Dutch had shot Cornwall, point-blank. They were swarmed with Pinkertons and they had to shoot their way out of Annesburg, barely escaping. 

"And Micah thinks there's a rat," he said after relaying the gory details. He huffed an incredulous laugh. 

"In the gang? He reckons one of us is squealing?" 

"Mmhm, thinks the Pinkertons have been showing up too fast for it to be a coincidence," he sighed. I blinked up at the top of the tent. I thought about all the gang members, picturing each person's face, unable to make any sort of guess as to whether Micah's claims could be true. I just didn't see any of them talking. "He says we should start cutting folk loose, go back to Blackwater and get the money stashed there, and get out of here."

"Who's he wanna cut loose, exactly?" I frowned.

"Well, he was speaking to Dutch at the time. I got the distinct impression that by 'we', he meant him and Dutch," he murmured monotonously and deeply. "Sod the rest of us."

"He's… he really kisses Dutch's ass, don't he? It's almost uncomfortable," I whispered. 

"Mm, seems everyone sees it but Dutch himself. Micah's a creep, through and through."

"I'm embarrassed I ever gave him a chance. At the start, when we worked together a few times, I kept thinking he had potential to be a decent feller," I mumbled, shaking my head.

"Don't be embarrassed. You hadn't seen the full spectrum of his charming personality just yet," he snorted. "I think we all wanted to give him a chance at the start. Thought he was just a bit of an odd feller, not very nice. But we never warmed to him, not with all his behaviour." 

"How can he come in and accuse someone else of being a rat? My understanding is he's one of the newest folks, apart from me or Sadie," I said then I frowned, swallowing. "Or Kieran."

Arthur read my mind. "Kieran ain't the rat. Least I don't think so."

"You know that's who Micah will pick on, though. He was with the O'Driscolls," I whispered, rolling over onto my side and peering over the edge of the bed to look at Arthur where he was lying on the floor.

"His name did come up," he sighed. "And would you believe it, Dutch was even thinking about John when we was in Guarma."

"John? He thought John was a rat?" I balked.

"Yeah, I know," he murmured monotonously, shaking his head. "But I don't believe it's either of them. I don't believe we've got a rat full stop. We've just been sloppy, we ain't exactly been subtle. 'Specially not by blowing a hole in Leviticus Cornwall's chest, when we're camping not five minutes away!" He shook his head irritably.

"Jesus," I hissed, screwing my face up.

"Dutch is losing it. Or he already has, completely. I don't know," he whispered sharply. 

"What's he supposing we do?"

"Wants to make a bunch of smoke, create a big enough distraction for us lot to piss off out of the state, maybe even the country, that's what he's supposin'," he told me, humour building in his throat. 

"Or do increasingly reckless bullshit until every one of us is lying in an unmarked grave and every Pinkerton on the case gets a medal," I proposed, and Arthur hummed his agreement. "Christ, Arthur, we can't do this. We can't go along with him. None of us, what if we start asking folk… seeing who'd be prepared to leave with us?" I suddenly asked, the words splurging from me without thought. His eyes widened a bit and he looked me in the eye in the dim light shining through the tent from the campfire. 

"You're really suggesting that we try and divide the gang, try and leave Dutch high and dry?" He sputtered. My heart thudded. Shit. I'd gone too far. 

"No. Never mind," I rolled back onto the bed, staring up above. 

"Wait, I ain't mad. Sorry, that came out different to how I meant," he shifted, sitting up and leaning his elbows on the bed. "I just– I couldn't. I ain't a leader, princess. I can't be what Dutch was to me."

"You wouldn't want to be what Dutch was to you," I replied instantly. His brow furrowed. "I don't doubt he was good to you over the years, provided you with a purpose and taught you all you needed to know to get by in this life. But that don't change the fact that lately all he's been doing is treating you like a grunt! You won't ever be like Dutch. And that's a good thing." 

Arthur was stunned by my words and I immediately began to feel anxious. I really was pushing my luck. If I wasn't careful I'd end up saying something that hurt him, and that's the last thing I wanted. I might've already done it. 

"I'm sorry. I'm just getting nervous. Hell, not even just getting there, I'm extremely nervous. I'm petrified that Dutch is gonna have one of his crazy moments again and you're gonna get hurt because of it, I'd never forgive him if something happened to you 'cause of his recklessness," I continued.

"I won't let that happen."

"I wish I could be reassured by that. But you ain't always in control of what happens, you can't say that."

Arthur sighed, looking down. 

"I… I know I ain't in control. I know I can't promise you anything. I'm just trying to– to spin too many plates at once but at this point I don't know how to stop. It ain't that easy," he whispered, and he sounded defeated. I instantly felt guilty. "I don't want to make excuses, and I don't wanna let you down."

"You've never let me down. Don't worry about that," I shook my head and sat up on my elbow, looking at him properly.

"My head's been all over the place. So much has– I still ain't wrapped my head 'round what's happened these past weeks, I can barely think straight half the time and I just can't figure out what to do," he sighed, dragging his hand over his face. My lips parted and I stared at him. "Guarma; that bank job, everything went so fast and I never had a chance to stop and think and now we've moved again, and Dutch is on about making noise and leaving the country, and I– I don't like any of this. I don't like what he's doing but I wrack my brains and I just can't think of a goddamn thing to say to him to make him see sense!"

"Arthur, I'm sorry, I keep putting pressure on you," I breathed, shaking my head.

Arthur gestured towards my leg. "And this is the second time you could've been killed just 'cause I can't be a damn man and do right by you. And– and I know this and yet I still can't–" he stopped, sitting back, resting his elbows on his knees and hanging his head. "This is the same shit Mary left me for."

"I ain't leaving you. I ain't Mary," I hissed. If I sounded angry, I didn't mean to. 

"I know you're not, princess, you ain't nothing like her. Nothing like her at all, I'm sorry, I just meant that it weren't good enough for her so why on earth should it be good enough for you?"

"Arthur, I don't know what you want me to say," I shook my head. "You're telling me that your hesitance to get out is gonna make me leave you or something, but then you say you can't get out. Every time we talk about this it goes nowhere, and we're just gonna keep going 'round and around in circles. I just want you to think about if it's what you actually want," I kept my voice as level as possible.

"Of course I want it," he told me, brows curving upwards. "Wouldn't be saying it if I didn't."

"I know you worry about the gang. But look at them, they're a whole group of adults, and they're all following Dutch. Nobody is expecting you to make sure they're all okay, that ain't your responsibility,” I told him, thinking about what Charles had said.

"I know," he said, his tone a bit sharp and irritated, not at me, but at the situation. Like he didn't want to admit that it was true.

"Does that bother you? That you ain't responsible?" I asked, my brows quirking in surprise. 

"No! You know why I can't leave, and I know you’re scared… But I am too. Truth be told I'm scared for if I stay and I'm scared for if I leave."

"If you leave?" I repeated, not exactly expecting that.

"Yes. What if I can't do it?" He hissed, and I could simply frown in response. "What if I end up messing up and going back to my old ways and letting you down? Hosea once left. He and Bessie, the woman he loved with all his heart, they went off on their own and he ended up coming back because he was too set in his ways."

"Really?" I asked, mouth agape. I must’ve looked so dumb.

”What if I'm like that? What if I can't give you everything you need?" He continued, moving closer to the bed and leaning close to me, taking one of my hands in both of his. "I want you. I want to go, I do. But in the back of my mind all I can think about is ruining both of our lives if I don't act right. I spent a lot of years being this way. What if I can't change? Mary wanted me to– I never could for her. What if I–"

I frowned in a different way at the mention of Mary again, a little annoyed. "I don't want you to change, like she did," I told him more sharply than necessary. I softened when he seemed to realise his error. "I ain't expecting you to all of a sudden go out and get yourself a fancy job somewhere, get us a big house with lots of neighbours and a dog and all this normal stuff. I don't want any of that. Well, I wouldn't mind having a dog…"

"You can have all the dogs you want," he breathed a laugh.

"Arthur, I'll be honest; if we have to… live in the grey areas of the law to get by, then, well, as long as we ain't doing nothing too big or loud, how's it different to the way I've always lived?" I admitted, shrugging softly. "You know I weren't always lawful when I was on my own. Don't change, Arthur. Just do what you have to do and always come home to me as the man I fell in love with."

"You mean that? You wouldn't be upset if I– if I can't settle into a normal life that easy?"

"Of course I wouldn't. Arthur, I'll probably struggle too. I don't mind waiting for it, neither. Just don't make me wait too long, till it can't happen no more," I whispered to him. "That's all I ask."

He pressed his forehead to my arm gently. “What worries me is you keep on reassuring me like this but nothing ever changes. I just can’t go yet, and I want you to really understand why so you won't start thinking I’m always putting you last and you ain’t important.”

"I'm trying to understand. Tell me what's going on in your head," I pleaded, stroking his hair. 

"I will try my best. My head ain't exactly easy to figure out right now. Usually when I'm with you I can forget most of the shit going on and I'm happy, and I can't wait to get out with you," he spoke slowly and monotonously, as if he really had to try to word it right. "But then I go out on a job and it brings me right back down to earth, I get pulled back in the other direction, reminded of how many years I sunk into this gang and I can't just leave, not without making things right. Or at least trying to. And I owe that to you, too," he lifted his head and met my eyes.

"To me? Why?" I frowned.

"I ain't done much good in my life. I don't like who I am, who I have been, how can I give you everything you deserve if I can't even redeem myself and do one good thing before this gang crumbles to dust?" His response caught me off guard. "I told you before I'm scared, and this is all part of that. If I can't show you that I can do right by these people I been loyal to for years, then what would my loyalty to you even mean? I'm scared that even if I say fuck it to everything and just run off with you, leaving all this behind, I ain't gonna be doing you a service. 'Cause all I'd be showing you is I ain't deserving of your trust."

And suddenly, despite the fact that I didn't want to accept it, I understood.

Arthur needed this, not just because he cared for these people, but because he had to see it through for himself. He had to prove to himself that he could deserve the out our relationship had given him. He did deserve it, of course he did, but nothing I could say would convince him until he'd proved it to himself. And that's what getting John and his family and the others out would do, prove to him that he was good. At least, good enough to deserve something better than the pain and struggle his life up until that point had given him. 

And if Arthur was important to me and I genuinely wanted him to be happy; I had to let him do it.

"Okay," I whispered. "I get it, I do."

"Yeah?" He breathed. "You ain't just saying that to be kind to me?"

"No, I understand. I'm scared, but I know that you need this. I ain't gonna be the one to hold you back," I told him, flipping my hand to interlace our fingers. 

"Angel, I don't want to let you down. You're my world, you know that, don't you? I gotta do this so I can be the best I can for you. I won't be able to do that if I live with regrets, about the things I failed to do," he said, kissing the back of my hand. 

"I trust you. I really do. If you gotta do this and you promise me you'll draw lines where you have to, and you ain't gonna let Dutch use you like your life don't even matter," I squeaked, shaking my head, "then I won't put no more pressure on you. I'll be patient."

"I'll look out for myself," he nodded, "I got more reason than I ever really have to keep myself safe."

That was a little painful to hear. I reached my free hand out to cup his cheek. "I love you," I told him.

"And I'm real lucky you do. I don't know of many women who'd put up with me being like this," he exhaled a sheepish laugh, shaking his head.

"I guess that's lucky for me," I smirked a little and he chuckled.

"I love you too, my darlin', don't forget that you're what's pushing me to be better."

"Just… let's not have this conversation again until it's the right time to go. It feels like we've had it a million times and it ain't ever ended in us packing our bags– well. It did once, but things were different then," I said, remembering when our plans felt solid, when the gang was going to flee and be safe and Arthur and I were going to leave together. Before the bank. Before Guarma. "What I'm saying is, I don't want to go around in circles again. Next time we talk about this, it's gonna end in us leaving, okay?"

"Alright, beautiful. I'll… I'll start working on Dutch. If somehow I can convince him to use all that money we been saving to clear off for good," he trailed off, shaking his head. "I don't know how long it'll take."

"It'll take as long as it takes," I shook my head and smiled at him, brushing my thumb across his cheek bone. Then I kissed him, holding him close and tender like the treasure he was. 

-

A man I hadn't seen before walked into camp, guided by Charles, as well as Karen and Javier who had both been on guard duty. His hair was long and though I didn't know for sure, I wondered if it was one of the people from the Wapiti reservation that Charles and Arthur had been helping. My guess was solidified when Arthur – who was speaking with Dutch at the time – appeared to know him, and introduced them. They all spoke for a while, and my position across the other side of the camp meant I didn't hear a word. I was surprised that he'd come to our camp, and I wondered what had happened to make him do so.

Eventually Dutch made the first step towards the horses, and the man immediately followed. Charles and Arthur seemed reluctant to follow too, but they did. I frowned and sat upright, swinging my legs over the edge of the bed, very gingerly lowering them to the ground so I could watch as they all mounted up and rode away from camp. 

I glanced around, wondering if anyone around had heard what their conversation was all about, or what they were heading out to do. A sickly sense of anxiety settled like a boulder in my stomach once again and I began to panic that I could never, ever watch Arthur leave camp again without feeling complete dread. I'd come close to losing him too many times and now I'd been trained to expect the worst. 

With a groan I pushed myself to my feet, grabbing the cane that Arthur had fashioned out of a big stick he'd found so that I could start moving around. I could walk okay, I just had to move carefully as to not tug on the delicate, healing skin around my knee, the cane was there to keep my balance. I walked my way over to the stew pot, figuring that eating something might settle me a bit, I hadn't eaten anything since breakfast and even then I'd just had some biscuits.

I served myself up a bowl of stew and hobbled my way over to the campfire, sitting down on one of the storage crates and dropping my cane down on the ground beside me. I tucked into my food, relieved to have a warm meal to pull my focus to. I saw Mary-Beth getting herself some food too, and she started heading towards me, sitting down on a nearby log. 

"It's good to see you up and about," she commented. 

"Yeah, I couldn't stay flat on my back forever, my leg ain't really hurting no more. Miss Grimshaw said as long as I'm careful with it, it'll do me good to be more mobile," I replied, nodding before blowing on a steaming forkful of meat and vegetables and popping it into my mouth. 

"That's good, it can't be nice when you're always so eager to keep yourself busy," she laughed a little, and I met her eyes. 

"Thanks for the books, by the way. I finished the one with the field of lavender, the French woman," I murmured, looking towards the tent as if I could see the book and read the title from there.

"The Castle in the Field of Lavender," Mary-Beth nodded. "Complete nonsense, isn't it? But I love it nonetheless," she giggled. 

"I can certainly agree that it's nonsense," I chuckled, "but it provided a much needed distraction. I liked it," I grinned. 

"How're you feeling?" She asked.

"I'm– I'm okay. Yeah, been a tough time lately, ain't it? But I'm sure things will start looking up now we're in a new camp, we're all together," I said with a nod. 

"You think so?" She questioned, a frank look of doubt on her face. 

"You don't think so?" I countered.

"I don't really know what to think," she exclaimed, shaking her head regretfully.

"No, I guess I don't either," I sighed, stirring through my stew. 

"All I know is I hate it here, this place gives me the creeps," she made a show of shuddering, then took a bite of food, swallowing before continuing, "worse than the swamp."

"We're safe. All these people here, looking out for each other, it might be creepy here but nothing's gonna happen," I tried to reassure her, and she nodded. "Do you know what all that was about; with that feller who came to camp just now?"

"Karen said his name was Eagle Flies," she said, and I nodded in recognition, "something about some horses being stolen. I figured the boys went to help get them back."

"Stolen horses," I mused thoughtfully, "doesn't sound like something Dutch would be too concerned about with all that's going on," I pondered.

"Hmm, now you mention it," she nodded slowly, "well, I don't know. Maybe there's money to be made, I don't see why Dutch would risk everything if it weren't worth it. Not with the Pinkertons turning up all the time."

I was quiet for a moment, eating my food and considering my next words. When I settled on them, I glanced around before leaning forwards a bit. 

"Uh, Mary-Beth," I said under my breath, and she caught my tone and scooted closer to me, her eyes widening with a cute kind of intrigue at the secrecy. "Do you think that… that Dutch maybe ain't been using the best judgement as of late?"

"What d'you mean?" She asked, her eyes narrowed and her head shaking in confusion. 

"Well," I began, my tone light and careful, "he trusted Bronte with that trolley station tip, when that was a set up he killed him and then expected everything to be okay when he went and robbed the bank? I don't know, I thought he was meant to be real smart."

"Oh, I don't know what to say. I never really thought about it that way before," she sighed softly, frowning to herself. 

"You haven't? Perhaps it's just me being paranoid, then," I dismissed, lessening my conviction, trying to brush it off as a passing thought. I didn't want anything blown out of proportion. 

"No, I don't think so. Perhaps you're right. When you put it like that, it don't sound all that smart, why'd you think he'd take those risks without thinking of the consequences?" She questioned. 

"Well, that's it. I don't know. That's why I wanted to ask you, you've been here much longer, I just wondered if you'd noticed a change or if he's always been like this," I shrugged. 

"No, he hasn't. The gang has changed a lot in the last few months, doing things that we wouldn't ordinarily do. I put it down to heavier pressure from all of our enemies but sometimes I wonder if we're going too far, truth be told. As soon as Jack got dragged into our problems, I stopped feeling safe," she admitted to me, her voice tiny and barely audible. "But I never blamed anyone in particular for it, 'specially not Dutch."

I shook my head. "I ain't suggesting that you should. I'm just thinking out loud. I'm pretty scared."

"You're scared? Even with Arthur looking out for you?" Her brows raised softly and with concern.

"It's… it's Arthur I'm scared for. I'm a woman. I ain't really had to deal with the things he has in this gang, nobody's forcing me to go out and shoot Pinkertons and rob banks! I've only gotta worry about my safety when they find our camp. But he–" I stopped, shaking my head and sighing. "Every time he goes out since Guarma, I feel sick."

"Oh, I see…" she said solemnly, looking down. "And I guess you're worried, what with Dutch's recent ideas, that Arthur's gonna get hurt because of him."

"I am," I nodded. 

Mary-Beth pressed her lips together and tilted her head, considering her response carefully. "Dutch has always been something of a father to folks. Some more than others. But Arthur has been with him the longest, you know that. I don't think Dutch would let any harm come to him, not on purpose."

"Mm," I made a quiet sound, finishing off my food to avoid responding. I didn't believe her. Not that she was lying, she wouldn't be remiss for thinking that way. But ever since he was captured by the O'Driscolls, I really struggled to fall into such naive, blind trust of Dutch Van Der Linde. 

"Have you thought about leaving?" She asked, her tone high pitched and girlish and curious, like the question was more insignificant than it actually was. "Seriously, I mean. Not just a spur of the moment thing, like what Arthur was saying when your leg got burned," she clarified, and I was reminded of all the people who'd heard that conversation.

Even so, I struggled to form a response. 

"I have," I finally answered, emphasising the 'I' to avoid incriminating Arthur. I wanted only to speak for myself. 

"Between me and you… so have I," she replied, shocking me. I gazed at her with wide eyes as she stared into the fire. "When I found out Molly had gone, I started wondering if the gang would fall apart, then I panicked, thinking about what I'd do if it did. Sometimes I think I should jump ship before I go down with it," she revealed, and her words rang in my ears with such clarity I wanted to capture the moment and show it to Arthur, because it made such sense the way she said it. But I'd promised him I wouldn't put pressure on him to get out while he felt his work was not yet done. 

"I understand," I nodded. "And I wouldn't judge you if you did. Not even a little," I whispered.

"Really?" She met my eyes. 

"Same reason I didn't judge Molly. I think if someone knows they can find happiness elsewhere, they should seek it without judgement. Especially with how things are right now, we're all scared for our lives."

"I spoke to Kieran about it," she told me. "I don't know how he feels about it but I… I like him. A great deal. Sometimes I daydream about how life could be, and it makes me happier than I ever am when I'm living outside of my head, in the real world. Do you know what I mean?"

"More than I care to admit," I nodded. 

"Kieran and I have some… shared feelings, I s'pose you'd say. But we don't make a spectacle of it, we're very discreet," she said, and I smiled a little, seeing myself in her. She thought she was telling me something I didn't know, when everyone was aware at least on some level that something had blossomed between the two. Just like Arthur and me in the beginning. I didn't burst her bubble though.

"Are you, uh, officially involved? Like, say, me and Arthur?"

"Don't make me kiss and tell," she giggled, a grin spreading across her face. 

"So you've kissed him?" I grinned, teasing her. 

"I might have," she answered coquettishly, lifting a shoulder and peering over it at me.

"Considering the kind of novels you read and the way you spoke to me about Arthur, I would've thought you'd be more chatty about such a thing!"

"Well, it's different when it's yourself, ain't it?"

"Now you see why I was so embarrassed," I chuckled, shaking my head. "Don't worry, I'll have mercy on you."

"I appreciate it," she laughed, "anyway, I didn't bring him up to gush about it… I was just saying, if I had my way, if my dreams could come true, he and I would leave together, and we'd puzzle together as normal a life as we could," she sighed. 

"That's a sentiment I certainly share," I nodded. "Well, good luck to you, Mary-Beth."

"And to you," she returned, wearing a warm smile and rosy cheeks. "Let me take your bowl," she offered, getting up to wash her own. 

"Thank you," I said as I handed it over, and watched as she left. I glanced at the fire for a while, watching the glowing embers rising. It never had the same impact in the daylight as it did at night time, always felt different. 

I reached into the top of my shirt, retrieving the locket that hadn't left my neck since it was put there. I held it away as far as the chain would allow and popped it open, looking at the crudely cut out little photograph of Arthur, wondering what he was doing right that moment. I prayed the situation with the horses was a simple problem to resolve, and he would return to me so that I could see him sit down by this very fire with a warm bowl of stew, allowing himself the small luxuries that I was able to have. 

But I didn't see him for a while after he left. After getting back the horses for the Wapiti people, Dutch and Charles had returned without him after nightfall. I was told that he was camping out somewhere away from the main camp, he had to meet with Bill and Micah in the morning for another job and he had someone to see in Annesburg, but there were no more details than that. I was disappointed, of course. It wasn't out of the ordinary for Arthur to spend many nights away from camp, the only reason he spent most nights in camp now was because of me, he told me he preferred getting to bed down with me over being out in the middle of nowhere. But I had to remind myself that he had important things to do and he wouldn't stay away just for the sake of it, I needed to hush down my selfishness and allow him to do what he needed to do. It was a theme cropping up all too often, and I had to battle myself on it. I would not become his ball and chain. 

[illogicalhusbands]

The Game is Afoot - pt. 3

Bill Masters x Alec Hardy Masters of Sex / Broadchurch Crossover Link to Part 2

I apologize for taking a long while to update! Me and my co-mod have had our hands full the past week with work and other projects. But I’m hoping I can get back to regular scheduling soon! We’re nearing the end of this fic now. I project the next update will probably be the last. Thank you to everyone who’s still reading this! -

“A whisk, Hardy? Really? You’ve been pining over this man for a month and you give him a bloody whisk?”

“Sod off, Miller. It’s a housewarming party and he has plenty of stuff already.”

Miller frowned. “You should at least give something that’ll leave a bigger impression on him.”

“What do I get him, then? A Victorian sofa?”

He put down the whisk and perused the section of the shop dedicated to pots and pans. Both he and Miller had been invited to Masters’ housewarming party the coming weekend and Alec had no idea what gift to get him.

“Now, now, don’t overthink this. You can always go the old-fashioned route.”

“What route is that?”

Miller grinned. “Oh, y’know. Flowers… chocolates… some good wine…”

Alec was scandalised at being reminded of when he was first invited to Miller’s house several years ago and didn’t know what was polite to bring to your friends’ houses as he never had any. “Do not go there, Miller, I swear—”

“See? You’re already a natural at this!” Alec remained silent. “You could add balloons. Or an angel cake.”

“Don’t laugh at my misery.”

Miller gave a frustrated sigh. “I’m trying to help you! Jesus Christ, you two have been circling around each other for weeks! Can’t you move it along?”

Alec rolled his eyes. “Move what along? We’re not a canoe, Miller.”

“You are being purposely obtuse!” Ellie said, shoving a finger at his chest. “You like him—”

“I didn’t say that.”

“—and he obviously fancies you—”

“Now that’s debatable.”

“And Lord knows you are in need of a good shag which, if I’m hearing correctly from the rumours, Dr. Masters is perfectly capable of giving.”

Alec went through a series of multiple shades of deep red.

“Where did I put down that whisk?” said Alec, retreating down the steps he’d gone.

Miller grabbed his arm. Her face softened. “Look at you, you big ol’ softie. Don’t give me that grouchy look. Like you said, he has plenty of stuff. I’m sure he’ll love whatever it is you’ll get cause he’ll only care about who it was from.”

Alec hung his head, suddenly taken by a breeze of honesty. “But that’s not good enough.”

Since that day at the library, he and Masters had only grown closer. It was bordering on ridiculous, really, how much they hung out and had breakfast and texted each other on the phone. And it didn’t help at all that Dr. Masters had an amazing personality to match with his confident facade. He was witty and intelligent. He had a dry sense of humour that eased Alec’s constant worries of saying something that others deem inappropriate. Masters took his rude remarks and added to them a spark of somewhat greater morbidity. Perhaps it had to do with both of them being in morbid careers, but they understood one another at a level that Alec had never experienced with anyone else. Not even his investigative partner and best friend Miller.

He was comfortable around Masters but at the same time it was frustrating to be around him. How could this incredible man continue to carry out charming conversations with him when he was only spitting out dull, dry remarks like a seventy-six year old spinster? How Masters could be friendly with him was completely beyond his comprehension, let alone try to ponder on the possibility of the doctor having a romantic attachment towards him.

Still, Miller was partly correct. By this time he’s able to fully admit to being head over heels for the man. How could he not? Here was a remarkable person who shared his sense of humour and inquired after him as if he really cared. It was a little pathetic, to be honest, for Alec to latch on to one of the first human beings to ever treat him with a bit of kindness. Masters was only the unfortunate victim of his affections.

He was infuriating with his small bowties and neat hair and his “You need to eat more, Holmes” text messages as if what Alec did was of any consequence to him. It was getting more and more difficult to appear unaffected by him.

When Alec walked into the cafe one sunny Wednesday morning, he found Masters already seated at their usual table. It was rare that the doctor arrived earlier than he did. There was a tray of scones in front of the empty seat across from him. Alec, perplexed, occupied his seat.

“I know you usually drink your tea on an empty stomach, but you shouldn’t make a habit of it,” said Masters before digging into his own club sandwich.

Alec stared wordlessly at him. He didn’t know whether it was on purpose or not, but Masters had scored another point against him. The scones were Alec’s favourites from the menu. He’d only had them a handful of times around him. Had the doctor really been paying attention to him the whole time?

Masters looked captivating in his silver dress shirt and tartan blue bowtie, teasing smirk dancing constantly on his lips. He more found it interesting now rather than irritating as he did during their first meeting. Here was the man who already knew his favourite food whereas the only things he knew about Masters were whatever information that could be gleaned from the internet or, god forbid, a dossier. It made him feel dreadful.

They settled into light conversation for the rest of the half hour. Alec hoped the rest of the meeting would remain unremarkable. They got up and walked out of the shop.

Halfway out of the door, he heard a voice from behind him. “Alec? Is that you?”

He turned to see a familiar woman with strawberry blonde hair and a fringe that swept just below her brows. For a moment he struggled to recognize her, then it clicked.

“Katie?” Alec recalled the person he’d gone on a blind date with several months ago. It was at a momentary phase in his life wherein he tried his hand at rebuilding relationships. He went on a couple of blind dates but none had really worked out well. At most he’d had a nice dinner and some company, but no one was truly able to take his attention the way… well, the way the dapper doctor currently beside him did. “It’s good to see you,” he added politely.

“Yeah? You’re looking good nowadays. Been hearing a lot about you from the news.” She tucked loose strands of hair behind her ear.

“Wish there was nothing to hear about, actually. Hearing about me is a sign of terrible news in this town. S’why no one can stand me,” he said in half-jest.

“Oh, I’m sure that’s not true. We’re very grateful for the work you’re doing.” Katie fidgeted on the strap of her bag and sighed. “Listen, I know you’re a busy man, but I had a lot of fun on our date and I was kinda hoping you’d call…”

Alec blanched. He did not fail to notice how silent Masters was throughout this entire ordeal. “Yeah, I’m… sorry about that. The um, cases just kept coming,” he finished flatly.

Katie seemed oblivious to his tone. She was a sweet girl, but truly dull. She laid a hand on his forearm. “Yes, I understand that completely.” She gnawed on her bottom lip. “But if you ever have some free time, I’d really look forward to hanging out with you again.”

Alec didn’t know what to reply to that. This was exactly why he didn’t do romance and dating anymore. There was so much energy required and he couldn’t be bothered with all these social niceties and he didn’t have the heart to shoot her down directly, especially with Masters around to see it as that would only be doubly embarrassing for Katie. Still, he had to say something.

“Katie, um… look. I’m actually… seeing someone now.” He winced as the words came out of his mouth. Katie looked crestfallen.

“Oh. I’m sorry, I didn’t…” She dropped her hand. “I just didn’t expect you to… I mean, I didn’t think you…” She shook her head. “Anyway, she must be an exceptional girl and I hope you two’re happy. Do I know her?”

Alec resisted the overwhelming urge to groan out loud. Was there no way to escape this conversation? What was he even going to say?

He startled at Masters clearing his throat, momentarily having forgotten that he was still there. “Actually, he’s not dating a woman.” His hand shot out, fingers twining with Alec’s with a flourish that appeared practised, like they’d done so plenty of times before instead of being the first skin-on-skin contact Alec has had with the man he lo—greatly fancied. “But you are correct with us being very satisfied in this relationship,” Masters added in a friendly tone.

But when Alec turned to look at him, he was anything but polite. Eyes slanted and chin pushed down to his collar, regarding Katie as if she were nothing but a nuisance. Something about that look tickled Alec’s insides, a thrumming sensation pooling in his gut. Katie’s lips parted with shock before she shook herself out of it and turned back to Alec, wanting to say something more. Just when he started to revel in the warmth of Masters’ hand, he let go. Alec tried not to feel dismayed.

He was still incapable of speaking and thankfully, Masters seemed to realize this. He spoke again, “It was lovely running into you, but my little sleuth here has a lot of work to attend to. If you’ll excuse us.”

“Down, Watson,” Alec couldn’t resist teasing. This was also the first time Alec had called him that out loud.

This seemed to have done something to the man as in the next moment, Masters’ arm crept behind his back, sliding over the fabric of his cotton dress shirt, touch ghosting over the muscles of his lower back. Warmth radiated through his spine. Alec let himself bask in it, quivering in the heat. A hand fastened itself onto his waist and Masters pulled, securing him to his side. The movement was all very languid, Alec’s shoulder and ribs coming naturally to latch onto the planes of Masters’ sturdy frame. Alec was stunned—pliant against him.

He sneaked a glance up at Masters’ face. He was still staring down at Katie with a hint of amusement in his eye, a particular twinkle. The face of a winner, with Alec as the prize.

Alec was experiencing a torrent of emotions, but it was far from being unpleasant.

Finally, they walked out of the cafe and after a considerable distance was made between them and the establishment, Alec spoke.

“I am very sorry about what happened back there.”

“No, I should be the one to apologize.” Alec believed this was the first time he saw Masters looking, of all things, sheepish. “I didn’t mean to do all that but.. But it was the quickest way to get rid of her, and you were looking like you were in trouble—”

“Nononono—” Alec hurried to console him. “You did, um… help me, with that. I should thank you, I suppose.”

Masters avoided his gaze, all traces of his previous bravado vanished. “Probably shouldn’t have done it, though. Might make it hard for you to get another date. And the touching might have been too much—”

“Is that what you think?” Alec’s breaths were shallow. “Because I don’t. Want it. Another date, that is.” His cheeks radiated with sudden warmth.

“Oh. That’s… good.” A gentle smile graced Masters’ face, though he was still avoiding Alec’s gaze. But there was a flicker of something in his eyes… one that looked a lot like… Hope?

He muscled his way through the rings of nervousness forming in his throat. “And I don’t mind the um, touching.”

Masters laughed. “Good.” The cheekiness was back in his tone.

Alec could sigh at the sight of him. His eyes sparkling with amusement, thin lips curled up into a teasing smile, and the sun’s rays touching upon his hair and his skin, making Alec’s fingers tingle with the desire to touch. It was too much, but also not enough.

Still he’d be content just to have this. Masters, gleeful and teasing, beside him in the mornings challenging him and helping him out of sticky situations. Truly it was more than enough. More than he deserved.

“I’ll see you this weekend for the housewarming,” said Masters before walking in the opposite direction from where Alec was headed. Alec’s gaze trailed behind him for an eternity after.

-

Another day had passed. The breakfast with Masters went more or less normally and he was glad that things seemed to return to their ordinary ways. Alec arrived at the station. A burst of whispers rang through the moment he entered the room.

He glared at the other officers, drawing up to his full height to appear intimidating. But they mostly all glared back. They were also mostly coming from the women (and some men) in the room.

“What’re you all staring at? Bugger off! The safety of the town depends on it and you’re here babblin’ like children!” At this, the officers whipped their heads back down to their workstations. The sound of shuffling papers and pressed keyboards filled the room once more.

Miller greeted him at the door to his office. Alec crossed his arms. “What?”

She was beaming. “Finally! Took you long enough, sir.”

“What the deuce are you talkin’ about?”

“Please. Everyone knows about it already. No need to hide it from me.” She clapped her hands. “You and Dr. Masters are dating!”

Alec could’ve sworn his soul just left his body. “I-wh-mff!—”

Miller poked his arm. “Look at you all adorably flustered! Heard it from down the grapevine, but everyone says it comes from a very reliable source. Came straight from your mouth, they say!”

Alec could feel the mortification stretching through him. To hell with this stupid, bloody town! If the entire community heard—nay, god forbid Masters heard of this! He panicked. Masters would never speak to him again. “God, that wasn’t—! UGH. It’s not true. I was caught off guard!”

“Oh,” Miller’s face drooped down with dismay. “Well, that’s not what every body thinks.”

Alec remembered the most charming welcome he’d just received when he entered.

“What’re they all staring at me like that for? I haven’t done anything to them!”

“Not personally, no. But they’re bound to resent you in some way or another.”

“Yes, and I have no idea why.” Alec’s arms flew up and flailed.

“Surely you do,” said Miller, smirking. “Whether you like it or not, Alec Hardy, you just managed to reel in the most eligible bachelor in Broadchurch.”

[emily-strange]

Growing Pains...

Chapter 4! Emmy has some confessions to make…

Summary: Emmy has been with the gang since she was a little girl. Her mother moved on, leaving her to be raised by Dutch, Hosea and Susan. Arthur and John are her brothers (argue and she will fight you). Becoming a woman is hard when everyone still sees you as a child. Since the Blackwater mess she’s trying to find her feet while dealing with her new feelings for the gangs resident douchebag.

Pairing: None yet, eventual Micah x female OC.

Warnings: Swearing, One Excitable Irishman

Chapter 4

 I make my way through the trees and spot Sean sat lazily at the campfire. He sees me instantly and gives me a signal to stay where I am. I crouch down as he stands up and dramatically stretches to look around for Dutch. He makes eye contact with me and beckons me over. I put my head down and walk briskly to Sean. We give each other a small, quick low-five and I continue my walk to the horses. I grab hay from a bale and start feeding some to my horse, Jett. She’s a beautiful, white roan Nokota that Arthur helped me break when I was 13. That was my favourite birthday.

I start to brush her as Dutch comes to stand in front of me.

“Emmeline” he greets with clear annoyance in his voice. He stands with his hands on his hips and I glance to the campfire to see that Sean is watching. I glare at him and all he does is laugh.

“I was callin’ you” Dutch comments. I just continue to brush Jett while I speak and try to keep my voice light. “Oh, was you? Sorry” I reply.

“Yes. Yes, I was. Where were you?” I look at Dutch then and shrug, “Oh, around. Dozed off a bit after cleanin’”. All he does is hum and nod.

“Emmeline. I know you’re bored…” Dutch begins but I’m so tired of hearing his excuses!

“I’m not just bored Dutch. I’m useless here. You need to let me get back to what I do best.” I plead. I know to others it probably sounds like I’m whining. Like Molly does all the time. But Dutch knows me. He knows I’m not one to complain unless I feel it necessary. “I know we’re still in…dangerous terrain…but we need money to get outta it. You know I can help.”

Dutch looks to the ground and nods.

“Little miss, you’re the closest thing to a daughter I will ever have. I will protect you till the day I die. And if that means keeping you in camp while you curse ma name? Then that, miss, is what I will do.” He finishes his little speech with a kiss on my forehead. God I want to scream at him so badly but I just can’t bring myself to do it. Instead I clutch Jett’s brush tightly and when Dutch turns to walk away I throw it to the group with a thump.

I place my forehead against Jett’s but pull back when I see Bill and Lenny approach with Micah in tow. “Miss Grace” Bill greets as he and Lenny start to saddle their horses. As Micah gets closer, I can see that he’s changed into a black shirt and a waistcoat. I smile but he remains emotionless and even bumps my shoulder slightly as he passes. “Hey watch it!” Lenny shouts as he mounts his horse and gives me an apologetic smile.

“Thanks Lenny” I say trying to keep the hurt I’m feeling out of my voice, “You going to the homestead?” I ask and as Lenny starts to detail the plan, I chance a look behind him at Micah who’s saddling Baylock. Once he’s done, he gives him a treat from his saddlebag and places his forehead against his for a moment. Just like I do with Jett. The act is so, gentle.

I zone back in for the end of Lenny’s explanation and wish him luck. Telling him and Bill to be careful.

“Always am!” he replies happily and I watch them trot out of camp, followed closely by Micah who doesn’t even look back. I shake my head and will the tears I feel to just go away.

“Don’t be so stupid” I mumble to myself and close my eyes. I tilt my head up to the sky and do as Bessie taught me. I take a deep breath and start to count to 10. I make it to 7 before an overly excitable Irishman claps me on the shoulder and shakes.

“And how’t it go with Dutch ‘little miss’?” Sean laughs. I give a humourless scoff and just whisper “perfect” while I look at the ground. I can’t bring myself to explain how frustrated and upset I now am.

Sean seems to consider me and the camp for a few short moments before holding out his hand.

“Walk wid me?” he asks and after a moment I smack my hand into his. He tugs me through the camp towards the water and then along the shoreline. So that if anyone really wanted to, they could see where I am but still giving us privacy.

We walk for a good 5 minutes or so, talking about nothing in particular, until we reach a dry area far enough away from nosey ears. Sean plonks himself down on the ground and gets out his pipe. I sit next to him and lean back on my hands, enjoying the sun and quiet. For a few seconds.

“So. Super-secret circle. Talk.” he mumbles while fiddling with the pipe. I’ve been telling him for years that a circle definitely needs more than 2 people. I love how much he cares though and like Arthur, I won’t get away with pretending I’m fine.

“Okay. But super-secret. Swear on your da.” I say sternly. He holds up his hand, clutching the pipe to his heart. “I swear on me da and any other MacGuire folk out there.” he says.

We’ve been doing this forever. Finding a quiet place and swearing our oaths. It’d always be his da and for me, whichever brother I liked more at the time. It changed daily. I don’t even remember how it all started, just that since I met Sean, I felt like I had a real friend. He never judged me. Not that he really has a leg to stand on if he tried! But he’s never tried.

I’ve told Sean my deepest, darkest secrets and he’s told me his. Like when I was pouring medicine from different bottles into the fire one night as a child, just to see what would happen, and I caused a mini forest fire….not my finest moment. No one but Sean knows it was me and no matter how drunk that boy gets, he’s never told anyone.

“I don’t really know where to start,” I say “I feel like I want to scream at Dutch. He…”

“Nah nah, not Dutch” Sean interrupts and I quickly snap my gaze to his. He can’t mean? “I saw the way you lookt just then by da horses. Positively….forlorn” he teases, “that ain’t about old Dutch.”

I take a moment to breathe. I can feel my face heating up and I actually think I might be sick. When Sean sees my obvious distress, he softens and squeezes my knee reassuringly. “You can tell me Em.” He says quietly.

I nod. Of course I can tell him. He’s Sean. This is our circle. Or whatever a group of two is. A pair? Yeah, a pair. A secret pair. That sounds dumb.

“Em?” Sean’s voice breaks me from my inner monologue.

“Okay” I say quietly and close my eyes. Maybe this would be easier if I wasn’t looking at him. “I think I might…like someone.” After a couple seconds of silence, I open my eyes. Sean looks…relieved? He begins to chuckle.

“Is dat it? Jesus Christ Em, I thought you were pregnant or summit” he laughs. I find myself feeling quite alarmed at his admission. “What? Why!?” I ask while glancing down at my stomach and feeling it, “Do I look pregnant?!” Surely I can’t look pregnant, we hardly ate in Colter and since then its hardly been a banquet every night!

Sean’s laugher subsides and he shakes his head. “No no, course not. But I’ve never seen you look so…so upset and…and confused?” he explains with some difficulty. It’s almost as if his thoughts are as jumbled as mine are. “You like someone though dats good. Right? Oooh is it our young Lenny? He’s a fine chap.”

I smile at his excitement. “No, unfortunately it’s not Lenny. It’d be nice if it were actually. You’re right, he’s lovely.” I admit.

“It um, it ain’t Bill?” Sean asks tentatively. I can already see where his mind is going. He must have been watching me when they were getting ready to ride out. “No” I laugh “It’s not Bill Williamson”.

Sean dramatically performs the sign of the cross. Wrongly I should mention. And thanks God. I brace myself for the next question. If he thought it was Lenny and then we’ve ruled out Bill, I know where he’ll go next…

“Okay” he regains his composure, “So, Javier?”

For a moment all I can do is blink at him. Javier? Where did Javier come from?

“Um…no. Not Javier.” I say slowly. Almost like I’m confused by my own words.

“Why not? He’s a sexy man!” Sean shouts and I burst out laughing. I also feel the need to look around as knowing our luck Javier would be standing nearby and he’d be very confused. But also, probably very flattered. That man likes to know he’s fanciable.

“Yes, yes he is. Shush!” I giggle and Sean takes a big puff of his pipe. He blows out the smoke and pokes the top of it while scrunching his forehead like he’s in deep thought.

“Okay, so not Lenny or sexy Javier. Or Bill, phew by the way….hold up, I will fookin’ end him if it’s that O’Driscoll sod!” he shouts equally as loud. “Hey!” I shout back “1 he is NOT an O’Driscoll and 2 NO it’s not him”. I smack Sean on the arm for being so mean about Kieran, poor guy.

“Well then I am fookin’ stumped.” he mumbles, throwing his arms in the air theatrically while holding his pipe in his mouth. He then seems to have a moment of clarity and I feel myself wanting to vomit again. He takes the pipe out of his mouth slowly and quietens down. “It” he clears his throat “It isn’t…me?” and this time it’s my turn to laugh.

“Alright!” he says mock defensively and I will myself to calm down. “No” I say through the deep breaths, “It’s not you Sean. I love you but….no” I finish with a kiss on his cheek. He smiles “Well thank goodness for dat. We’d make a great baby though if we were dat way inclined!” he states and we both laugh.

“Can you imagine? My brains, your hair! The kid would be unstoppable!” I wheeze and we take a moment to calm ourselves down.

Sean coughs and empties his pipe.

“Alright I’m done with the guessing game. Em, who do you like? But just know if you say Arthur or John, yes you are sick and yes I will dump you in the middle of nowhere to be eaten alive by wolves.” He smirks and at his statement I want to vomit but for a very different reason.

“Ew Sean, why?” I cringe before taking a deep breath.

“It’s um, it’s….Micah.” I whisper and look out at the water. I can’t imagine Sean’s face right now and I don’t want to look. His silence says everything.

“Right. Okay.” He says slowly and all of a sudden, he gets up and throws me over his shoulder.

“What the fuck Sean!!!” I shout as loudly as my position allows. He starts to walk further down the shoreline, away from camp.

“Well you’re clearly beyond hope so I’m gonna find some wolves.” Sean replies and I can only groan and hit him on the back. “Oh put me down you prick!” and with that he plonks me unceremoniously onto my feet. My hair is everywhere and I take a moment to pull my skirt down. Once I’ve gathered myself and the bloods rushed back to my brain, I see he’s laughing and I punch him in the arm as hard as I can.

“Ow! Violent little ting aren’t ya? Dat why Micah likes ya?” he laughs and I feel like I’ve been hit in the gut. All the wind has been completely knocked from my lungs and my eyes go blurry with tears.

It’s in that moment I realise, I like someone for the very first time.

And they don’t like me back.

[bee-kathony]

Away From Home - Ch. 6/?

Sam & Caitriona spend several weeks away from each other, while filming separate projects. A glimpse into what goes on behind closed doors, a dirty text, a flirty picture. A naughty FaceTime call

Ch. 1 | Ch. 2 | Ch. 3 | Ch. 4  | Ch. 5 

I didn’t have to leave Cape Town for another three days, and the past few days had been spent lounging around with Sam doing not much of anything. To keep Sam still and in one spot was a challenge in and of itself, but luckily I had the power of my naked body to convince him to stay in bed a little longer each morning.

Tonight, however, he had been invited to a party with a bunch of the people from the cast and crew of Bloodshot. This meant showering (together obviously), getting dressed, and having to mingle with people I wasn’t aquatinted with. I knew Sam loved me, but I also knew he was bursting to go and hang out with some of his mates.

“You promise not to leave me on my own though, right?” I begged him, holding on to his hand tightly as we walked to the entrance of a big house that belonged to someone in his cast.

“Aye, I won’t leave you alone. But you should get to know some of the people here, not just stick to me all night,” he smiled at me in a reassuring way.

“Are you trying to ditch me, Heughan?” I smirked, lightly smacking him on the arm.

We climbed the tall stairs and reached the front door, where it was opened immediately and we were welcomed in by one of his cast mates.

“I could never dream of ditchin’ ye, Balfe,” Sam whispered into my ear as his friend led us to a crowded room.

It wasn’t all bad, for one, there was lots of alcohol, so I took shelter in that and tried my best to mix and mingle with Sam’s new friends. It was an odd feeling — to meet so many people that knew him, but not me… not us. We shared so much of our life together, and mostly in our little bubble in Scotland, so when we were apart we were bound to meet new people, have experiences that the other wouldn’t have.

I was usually very sociable, I even enjoyed parties and getting to know people, but seeing Sam in his element around all these people that were a part of his new movie only made me dread going back to my own film set in LA. While I loved my character, and part I was playing — the vibes on set were so different to the ones on Outlander and even the vibes that existed on Sam’s newest movie.

Sam’s arm slid around my waist and rested there comfortably as he talked with one of his cast mates. I leaned up on my toes and told him that I was going to go to the bar and grab a drink, to which he squeezed my side and continued to talk to his mate.

The house was littered with people, and I assumed the whole production of the movie had been invited. I weaved my way through a crowd, nearly gasping for air when I finally reached the bar. I ordered an old fashioned and waited for my drink.

A woman came up to the bar next to me and ordered the same drink as me. I politely smiled, and she then turned to me, offering me her hand.

“Hi, I’m Amanda,” she said with a typical South African accent. “I don’t think I’ve seen you around set… but I do recognize you.”

I blushed, and shook her hand. “I’m just in town visiting Sam.”

“Oh!” She suddenly gasped, “Outlander… you’re Claire. God I love that show, you and him are brilliant.”

“Well thank you, that’s very kind.” The bartender slid me my drink and I took it, taking a nice long sip.

“How long are you in town for?”

“Just a few more days, I’ve been here before though. Filmed for a couple of months last year and then spent some time modeling around here,” I smiled.

“Great! I’m sure Sam has taken you up to table mountain then? Anyone who’s been near him for five minutes, knows that he loves to hike.”

I laughed, nodding my head. “Oh yes, we did that last year. Haven’t left the hotel room much this trip,” I blushed, realizing what I might have just implied.

Amanda and I started talking about work and all the places we had traveled. I learned that she was an assistant to the director on the film, and had lived in Cape Town all her life. I was glad for her company, and that I wasn’t left to my own devices. Throughout our conversation, I saw that Sam had been joined by more people and was still talking up a storm — all that pent up energy from laying around… well, not exactly laying around.

Just when Amanda had asked me what I planned to do after Outlander had finished, someone came up behind me, pressing against me quite closely. “Excuse m-“ It was Sam, smiling down at me.

“Hey Amanda,” Sam said quickly and then I felt him press his chest closer against my back. Normally he wasn’t one to display affection like this so openly, but I suppose he felt comfortable here.

I started to answer Amanda when Sam interrupted me, whispering in my ear, “I need ye, Cait. Come on.” He started to pull at my waist and when I shook my head, he sighed deeply.  This only prompted him to push his hips against me and that’s when I felt how hard he was — I could feel the pulsing of his cock against my arse.

“Um, I’m sorry Amanda, I just have to talk to Sam about something and then I would love to come back and talk with you,” I tried offering her my best apologetic smile and thought that from her knowing look as Sam pulled me off in the direction of less people, she knew what we were about to do.

“Sam, for Christ’s sake!” I hit him on the side of the arm. “I was talking to her, you can’t just come up behind me and demand sex.”

“I know, Cait. I’m sorry about it, but I saw you from across the room and saw how good you looked,” his voice was deeper and husky, “and remembered how you tasted this morning.”

Sam squeezed my hand, pulling me down a long hallway and finally up a staircase. “Besides… you could have told me to sod off,” he suddenly turned, facing me, “but here you are.”

“I didn’t have much of a choice when I felt you,” I said, sliding my hand in between our bodies and over the bulge in his pants. He groaned, his eyelids fluttering slightly.

“I canna wait until we’re back at the hotel,” he said and opened the door next to me which turned out to be a small powder room.

“The bathroom?” I gawked, but felt my belly tighten nonetheless.

“Oh yes…” he shut the door and immediately pressed my back against the hard wood. “Jesus Cait, I can’t stand to not be touchin’ you.”

“Fuck,” I cursed as his fingers flicked across my sensitive nipples.

There was a certain rush that came with having sex in a public place, knowing that there were hundreds of people downstairs. Sam lifted my legs around his waist and carried me over to sit on top of the counter.

A soap bottle fell onto the floor and luckily it wasn’t glass. Laughing, Sam kissed me, hungry for my lips and I melted against him.

“I don’t wanna leave,” I sighed as his hands made there way to the waistband of my jeans, tugging them over my arse.

“It’s only for a few more weeks, love. Then we’ll be together again,” Sam’s lips were on my jaw, licking and sucking and I moaned as I felt his stubble scrape against my skin.

All coherent thoughts left my mind as Sam unzipped his pants and his hard, thick cock sprang free. I took him in my hand, and moved to the edge of the sink counter, angling my hips for him to slid into me.

“Shit,” he gasped, his mouth open wide as he slid in easily. “You were ready, Balfe.”

“I always am for you,” I kissed him deeply, and then slung my arm around his neck as he began to thrust into me, quick and deep, taking what was his. Sam filled me completely and the sensations he was causing to tremble through my body overtook the slight pain I felt on my back as he rammed me into the sink faucet.

His hands slid over my thighs, gripping them so tightly, I knew I would have bruises of his touch come morning. But it didn’t matter, I craved the marks he left on my body, he always got lost in his senses when he came to me.

Sam placed one hand behind me on the mirror and pumped into me so hard, I couldn’t help but cry out. His hand closed over my mouth, “Shhh, someone will hear ye.”

I bit the fleshy part of his palm, “Let them,” and growled as Sam pushed himself home, sending me deep over the edge. Sam was panting, his mouth next to my ear as his body shook. My hand gripped his neck still, and I felt like a limp noodle.

Suddenly a loud knock came from the wooden door and Sam jumped about five feet in the air, slipping out of me in the process. “Fuck,” he muttered, tucking himself back into his pants.

“Occupied!” I shouted and then moments later heard footsteps head off in search of another bathroom.

“Imagine if I hadn’t locked the door,” Sam laughed, placing a deep kiss on my lips.

“They would have got an eyeful of your white bare arse,” I said, smacking his arse roughly.

“Well it’s good they didn’t come in then, cause no one needs to see that,” Sam said, helping me slide my jeans back up my legs. He paused by my thighs and planted a gentle kiss on the inside of one thigh.

“It reeks of sex in here,” I said and then Sam proceeded to take a big whiff.

“Aye, it seems it does. I’m no sorry about it,” he pressed his lips together.

“You beast,” I laughed and checked myself in the mirror before opening the bathroom door. Thankfully no one was out in the hallway and so Sam and I went back downstairs, arms linked and pretended that nothing devious had just occurred in the upstairs bathroom.

[pinkletterday]

The Flash 5x4!!!

I am HYPED, you guys! FINALLY WE FIND OUT WHAT'S UP WITH MOMMA AND BABY.

Whatever it is Im going to deeply empathize with and love both of them.

Idk who this stupid af bitch is running straight into a blazing hail of fireballs and trying to take selfies but I hate her.

Iris. Iris. Baby. Hahahahaha Nora knows what a disaster her Mom is in the kitchen. I love you sfm Iris.

Hey Nora this version of your Mom just met you so hold back on the teenage sass, okay?

Ok this isnt funny anymore my heart is aching for Iris.

Young lady sit back down and eat that breakfast your Mom made for you.

"Make you a banana" lmaoooo this is why Barry does all the cooking. Gawd I love the domesticity.

I love that Iris can't cook. It just adds to her perfection. I guess I really am a fool in love, huh?

Oh God this guy. Shut up shut up shut up. Did this buffoon just call Cisco Ramon not brave???

I wish Ralph would take the lead here. That's right, I like Ralph now. This season is magic.

I would find this softball thing adorkable and hilarious if it wasn't for the fact that Barry is literally the Flash. It doesn't make a lick of sense. Would have been much more interesting if Barry had turned into a star athlete overnight and everyone just boggled.

Otoh it provides an interesting (read: hilarious) look at their dynamic growing up. Their different dorknesses cancel each other out.

I am irked. Why is the Flash a hopeless athlete? HE CATCHES KNIVES OUT OF THE AIR. How does he just switch off his co-ordination?

Kinda nice seeing all the ladies together like that though. Cecile is a gift.

NORA IS A GAY THIS IS NOT A DRILL WE HAVE A BABY QUEER IN THE HOUSE aaaaaand you are seriously trying my patience here. Be rude to your mother one more time. See how that goes.

Oooh Momma Bear is on the case! *hearteyes*

See, Baby Giraffe is already better at this than The Fraudulent Frenchie.

I hate to say it but based on that lumberjane chic I think we have another queer in the house. But this one we don't want.

Loool "like her size extra small". I hate to say it but thats a way better reason for her codename than "excess" ugh.

No it was different because she never knowingly put the people she was writing about in danger you asshat. God I wish you weren't so pretty.

Another black man wrongly accused. What up, America.

...Joe what. You guys. Jesse Martin looks bad. IS HE OKAY I AM SERIOUSLY CONCERNED.

Momma coaching Baby through speedster things! Because Barry taught her that one time she was a speedster. I can't handle this. My heart.

She FINALLY thanked her! Iris's smile.

My girls. I can't.

OMG SOMEONE REMEMBERS EARLY EDITION! I loved that show!

Also. Iris West, ace reporter, always better than fake hoes. Watch and learn, padawan.

Am sad we're not getting any Cisco Ramon. I hope Carlos is enjoying his mini-vacay. Otoh, I really like that Caitlin is included in the West-Allen circle this ep.

I wonder why Nora doesnt call Cait and Cisco Aunt and Uncle. They must be the godparents.

It's okay Ralph. Some leads don't pan out. If Shitloque was an actual detective he'd know that.

But I love that the heroes of Central City can walk around in public and interact freely. Oliver's team would need to break in and scare the bejesus out of some poor unsuspecting sod.

NORA IS A DISASTER LESBIAN CONFIRMED. Or probably a disaster bi like her Dad. I AM LOVIN' THIS.

THAT MOMENT WHEN THE PENNY DROPS FOR BARRY THAT HIS DAUGHTER IS A GAY LMAOOO

Fuck I love that Iris never even blinked when Nora said Spencer was cute. She probably sussed it way before. I love you Momma West-Allen.

Oh no oh no I was right. Iris pulled a Joe West. Goddamn it. I mean I get why, I get how traumatized and scared she must have been but IRIS NO YOU DON'T LIE TO YOUR CHILDREN TO PROTECT THEM. Remember how you felt when your Dad did that to you?

I am legit heartbroken, you guys. I really wanted to be wrong. I blame Joe West's goddamn patriarchal shitty parenting for perpetuating this cycle of lies.

I swear to God if this show tries to justify lying and manipulating your kid again I'm going to give up on it. It's triggering as all fuck (I still havent recovered from S1 and 2) and I need Iris to be held accountable when she fucks up, not let her turn into another Fefe who can do no wrong.

Jesus Christ Iris, trying to force a conversation with Nora by invading her privacy and ignoring her need for space is not okay. BOUNDARIES, girl.

Oh okay but she's holding herself accountable thank fuck. I mean, Barry's right she can't be blamed for what she might do in the future but IT'S STILL WRONG.

I was actually shaking. Friendly reminder that survivors of parental abuse and manipulation are also watching this show, some of us with CPTSD.

"What if my Dad did something like that to you"?? Er. Iris? Remember when he lied to you for twenty years about your mother being dead and you didn't talk to him for six months?

Oh here we go. You've stood there like a gormless beanpole for three episodes without so much as trying to intervene Barry and this is how you choose to comfort your wife. Not "yes, it's a bad thing and we can't know what led you to the choices future you made but in the here and now you know not to. We can learn from the future and make different choices, Iris."

PUNCH HIM IN THE THROAT, CAITLIN.

...I just meant for frightening Caitlin, but he actually wants to be punched?

Ooooh that was satisfying! Pretty sure her form was all wrong but can't argue with the results.

I love how fucking competent Iris is??? She knows how to use the entire STAR Labs tech arsenal. Although that Vibe device kinda defeats the whole purpose of breechers. It's like if they had a device lying around that could give just anyone super speed.

Not sure how Spencer thinks XS can kill Flash. One's a n00b and the other is veteran.

Wait, Baby Flash can do what now?

I don't like that they had to dumb Barry down so much to give Iris a chance to shine. A couple can both be competent at the same time! It's called being a power couple! Not one-half Idiot Ball couple!

So her phone got powers? Huh??

Ah yes. Dark Matter. More multi-purpose than Quantum.

Okay cool Ralph is getting his due. "Less right" LOL

"That puts meta-human powers in the hands of anyone" kinda like having a Breeching device, no?

We have meta-humans, meta-phones, meta-daggers (a tech dagger??) HOLY SHIT WHAT IF THE DARK MATTER HIT A HOME DEPOT?? How many people now have meta-vacuum cleaners? Meta-dishwashers?? Meta-can openers??

Oh God. No. Not this.

No. You do not lie and manipulate your kids to protect them. You do not do that. Love is no justification.

Don't Barry don't. Stop stop.

I can't watch this. FUCK YOU.

FOR GOD'S SAKE SHE'S CRYING AND SHAKING YOU ARE SUPPOSED TO COMFORT HER AND MAKE HER FEEL SAFE NOT STAND ON YOUR PILE OF BULLSHIT WITHOUT GIVING A FLYING FUCK.

No, cry all you want. I have no sympathy for either one of you callous asshats. You fucking destroyed that girl. Fuck Joe West for having raised you to think this way.

Yeah no Joe West is not who you want to go to in these matters, Nora.

I don't even care about Cicada anymore.

I should have known this show would never get any less gross.

Look, I was fully prepared to be sympathetic to Iris, traumatized, alone and single mother to a meta-child in a dangerous world to have made some bad decisions. And I do empathize. But I wasn't prepared for present-day Barry and Iris to justify and rationalize that shit. I thought they were going to say "That was a bad thing your Mom did. I'm sure she thought she was protecting you but she may have lost sight of how much it hurts to have your choices taken away from you. But I'm not that woman, Nora. I know I could never bear to see you hurting like this. I can still make better choices. Please give me a chance?"

Not "No I am your Mom and everything I do is right and good because I love you, I'm sorry if you feel hurt about it but them's the facts."

They did this when Barry and Joe lied to Iris all through S1, when Joe lied to Iris about her mother. This show is still all about apologia for lying and manipulation because LOVE AND GOOD INTENTIONS AND TO PROTECT YOU BY DISRESPECTING THE FUCK OUT OF YOU AND TAKING AWAY YOUR AGENCY.

Parental love is not a justification. Most abuse takes place at the hands of parents who really believe they're doing it for their children's protection. Please never say "your parents have every right to hurt you to protect you because they love you". Do you even care at all.

I'm not okay. Gonna take a break from fandom for a while. Can't deal with people taking Iris's side to protect their Westallen feels. Fuck both of them.

I'm posting this but please don't engage me to argue about it. Massively triggered.

[peterkayscarshare]

Life in the Slow Lane Chapter 3 by OvertheRainbow

She hated arguments. Mainly because she was completely rubbish at them. She couldn’t do confrontation and inevitably ended up in tears within minutes. This time was no exception. It didn’t help that her journey back to Mandy’s had been to the soundtrack of Forever FM’s “Sunday Love Connection With DJ Danny Love”. The whole thing was cheesier than an extra large Margarita Pizza, with stuffed crust, cheese bites, cheesy garlic bread and maybe a fondue thrown in for good measure. She’d held it together through Van Halen’s “Why Can’t This Be Love?” but by the time the late great Whitney Houston had finished belting out the first chorus of “All The Man That I Need”, played with “All my love always” from Leanne in Oldham to Richie in Southport, she was a blubbing mess. That it triggered her memory of John, on their first official “date”, telling her about his dedication to her, that she’d missed by moments, really didn’t help her situation. Try as she might, she found it impossible to be angry with him. Frustrated yes but angry, no. Even if he could never bring himself to fully open up and give her any more than they currently had, even if he could never actually say the word “love”, preferring to make hints and coded references, even if this “thing” was never going to work out, even if he was destined to break her heart beyond any and all repair, it was his to break. It always would be and that was that. 

 As she finally parked up in front of the house that never really felt like home, Kayleigh took a moment to compose herself. Steve was in his usual location, doing exactly what he always did. Rain, hail or shine. Mandy was on the front step next to a large ladder, looking exasperated, gesticulating wildly and intermittently pointing up at the Christmas lights, which had been hanging precariously from the roof for the better part of a year. As Mandy’s tone varied from a “not in front of the neighbours” whisper, to a socially acceptable outdoor voice, to a full on bollocking, Kayleigh caught the general gist of the conversation, even from inside the car. It was best summed up by Mandy’s final, very audible declaration, “You’re a useless dickhead!” Mandy never had any qualms about venting a sense of anger in her relationship. Throughout the entire tirade, Steve had remained his usual sanguine self. Saying nothing and wiping a spanner on his oil stained shirt. She’d never fully understood the dynamic between her sister and Steve. Mandy had the Kitson feisty gene. Steve was utterly passive to the point of comatose. She wasn’t entirely sure how her sister hadn’t strangled him, or died of boredom by now and yet, somehow it just worked for them. She knew how this latest incident would play out. Steve would leave Mandy to “simmer down”, then eventually fix the lights, at his own pace and in his own time. He’d give Mandy a cuddle, whisper something doubtless filthy in her ear, she’d giggle and smack him on the backside and before long, they’d be disappearing up the stairs. Kayleigh would settle on the sofa with a brew, open her iPad, load up Netflix and put her headphones on. All while contemplating yet another night alone in that tiny box room with a cross trainer, 36 pairs of shoes, a set of Babyliss Crimpers and a plastic heart shaped lamp for company. At least now she could add in another pair of shoes, yippee. Steve tapped on the passenger side window, “You gettin’ out sometime today or what?” “You fixin’ those lights sometime this year, you lazy sod?” came her terse reply as she opened the drivers side door. “Don’t you start. I’ve already had it off your sister”. “I know. I heard. I‘m guessin’ they could probably hear it in Dundee!” “Yeah well, Mandy’s got no volume control.” “She’s got more bloody patience than I’d have, that’s for sure. You said you were takin’ them down the day after New Years! They’ve been hanging up there like an afterthought ever since. They almost came down entirely after that bad weather last month.” By now Kayleigh had retrieved her bags from the car and was heading up the driveway. Steve was still surveying their “festive light display”. “I don’t know. Maybe we should leave ‘em as they are. They look like...what do they call it?… shabby chic”. “They look like shabby shit. Mandy’s right. Get ‘em fixed”, with that Kayleigh went inside, leaving Steve to resume his avoidance of the inevitable.

 As she entered the hallway she could hear Mandy “negotiating” with Chloe and Alfie over the evening’s dinner options, “We’re having a roast!” “We want chicken dippers!” “I want a fortnight in St Lucia, all inclusive but it’s not gonna happen.” “It’s not fair!” “No you’re right. Unlike many others, you’re going to bed tonight with full stomachs and a roof over your heads. It really isn’t fair.” “Yeah but we won’t have chicken dippers!” “Your suffering is noted. I’ll call Simon Cowell, see if One Direction want to reform for a benefit gig.” “So, can we have them then?” “Eh...let me think about it...no.” “Muuummmm” “Chlooooeeeee. Both of you, zip it. We’re having a roast dinner. Any more complaints and it’ll be with extra veggies and no Yorkshire’s.” That appeared to do the trick and the pair retreated in defeat. Kayleigh smiled at her exasperated sister. “One of those days?” “Let’s just say it didn’t improve after you left. Sometimes it feels as though I’m tryin’ to manage three kids.” Looking at her bags Mandy asked, “D’ya get what you wanted?” Now there was a question. “I got some shoes and a couple of bits”. “Well then. Let’s see!” Kayleigh produced her purchases to much ooing and ahhing from her sister. “Those shoes will make your legs look incredible! You’ll knock John dead!” Kayleigh’s reaction, or rather lack of it, spoke volumes. “Oh no. Please tell me you haven’t gone and binned him off.” “No! Course not! We just had a difficult conversation earlier.” “Define “difficult””. “I sort of, off loaded on him. I was feeling frustrated and I did exactly what I always hate. I just let it all build up and then got stroppy with him. I don’t think he had a clue what was going on, I didn’t even give him a chance and it all just spiralled out of control. I’m ruining everything!” Suddenly Kayleigh burst into tears. Mandy immediately rushed over and embraced her sister, “Aw, sweetheart.” As she offered what comfort she could amid the loud sobs, Alfie wandered through the hall and declared, “See! Even Auntie Kayleigh wants chicken dippers.” Mandy’s response was swift, “She’s crying because I’ve just told her what’s going to happen if you mention them again!” Kayleigh found herself laughing despite herself. “Listen, I’ve got a roast on. Needless to say, our resident food critics approve. It’ll be an hour or so yet. Why don’t you have a lie down. I’ll give you a shout when it’s ready.” “Thanks Mand.” “You really do need to talk to him Kayleigh. This isn’t fair on either of you. You need to explain your feelings and try to get some answers and he needs a chance to understand you and give his side of things.” “I’ll give him a call after dinner.” “Good idea. It would be such a shame to throw it all away when the two of you just need to get on the same page.” “You’re right sis. I can’t lose him because of this. You know, talking’s always been so easy for us. We’ve never done awkward silences. Now we’ve found the one topic that’s guaranteed to be a conversation killer and it’s the one thing we actually need to talk about.” “Well, get some rest and then take on the unspeakable Wonder Woman.” “I’ll fetch me golden lasso and cuffs.” “Now that’ll definitely do the trick.” Mandy grinned and Kayleigh headed up the stairs in the hope that a quick snooze might help her formulate a plan.

 “Christ! Take it easy Lewis Hamilton!” John exclaimed, as he swayed precariously in the front passenger seat. “I thought you wanted to get there quickly, Miss Daisy!” “I do! I’d just rather it wasn’t in a bloody body bag.” “Can I assume we’re not heading to Bury for you to have a long overdue booty call.” “Not unless it involves her sticking her boot up me arse.” “Well, if that’s how you like it. I make no judgement. Each to their own.” John gave Jim some vicious side eye. “Where’s your sense of humour these days?” “I’m just finding it hard to laugh at the general fuck up that my life has become.” “I thought we sorted this back at Big Bob’s. You love her, you want her, you just need to get over feelin’ awkward and you can crack on.” “You make it sound so easy”. “It is John. You keep on makin’ it complicated and you may as well forget it. Have you ever actually told Kayleigh how you feel about her?” “She knows. She’s got to.” “How? She a mind reader on the sly?” “I wrote her a song for Christ’s sake! It was all about hearts and journeys and colours and shit and I meant every word of it too. What more does she want!?” “Hearts and journeys and colours?” “Yeah, you know, she walked away with me heart, made my journey through life lonely and turned my world to colour from black and white, that sort of thing.” “You’re no Gary Barlow mate.” “That’s not what she said.” “Yeah, well she’s your number one fan.” “You make her sound like a friggin stalker!” “Has it ever occurred to you that maybe she doesn’t want theatrics and riddles. Maybe she just wants to hear you say the word.” “What word?” “LOVE! You bloody idiot!” Why does that matter so much!” “Because it’s a small word that’s about as big as it gets. It doesn’t mean “Iike”, it doesn’t mean “fancy”, it doesn’t mean “You’ll do for now until something better shows up”. It means, you’re feeling it where it matters, where it counts and not just between your legs! It says you could hurt me...maybe even more than I could ever hurt you. That’s what’s freakin’ you out. Isn’t it?” John sighed, “Yeah. Yeah it is. I’d never cried over a woman until Kayleigh. I mean, I’ve been sad before, I’ve even gone off me food.” “Jesus! When were that!?” “Oy!” “Sorry”. “I know now that she can hurt me, more than I’ve ever been hurt before, because she did”. “Now there’s a lyric. Seriously though, do you really think that by just not sayin’ it, you can somehow not feel it. Do you think it’ll protect you? Cause if you think that’s the case, I’ve got one question for you mate...how’s that workin’ out for you?” John put his head back against the headrest and momentarily closed his eyes. It was a silent answer, which somehow spoke volumes. 

 The rest of their journey was spent in companionable silence, interspersed with occasional instructions on which direction to take, from John. Finally, they arrived on the familiar road that led to Mandy’s house, or as John always thought, to Kayleigh. His heart and his brain were currently competing in a race to the finish that neither seemed willing to concede. “It’s up here on the right. Number 25. It might have a green gazebo.” “A green gazebo!” “Yeah. Her sister’s fella Steve’s into fixin’ bikes.” “That still doesn’t explain the gazebo.” “Fuck the gazebo! It’s not even up!” “Alright John! Calm down.” “Sorry, it’s here with the shitty Christmas Lights. Right, this is it.” “D’ya want me to come with you or wait here?” “Christ! I hadn’t thought about that. I don’t know how long I’ll be. She might kick me out before I can get a word in edge ways. Either that or I’ll be here for ages. It’ll be a feast or a famine.” “Well, let’s take it as it comes shall we? You need me to make meself scarce for a bit, I’ll find a Maccie D’s. You can text me when you want me to come back.” “Cheers mate.” “Is that Steve?” “Yeah. He’s sound”. Steve was already waving at John. John and Jim both got out to greet him, “Alright Steve?” “Hey John mate. I wasn’t expecting to see you today!” Furtively looking back at an amused Jim, John attempted a casual reply, “Well, Yeah, we, eh, happened to be in the area and I just thought I’d stop by and say hello to Kayleigh. She about by any chance?” “Yeah, she’s just back from the shops. Front door’s on the snib. Go on in.” “Thanks pal. This is my mate Jim by the way. Jim, this is Steve.” “How do mate.” “How do. Nice bike. Ya can’t wack a Triumph. John’s Dad were into his bikes if I remember rightly. He had a Triumph at one point and...aw what were it called? John! What was the name of that bike your Dad had?” John was already heading for the front door as he replied, “A Land Devil. Steve knows. I gave him some bits from the garage”. Steve replied, “That were very decent of you by the way”. “No bother”. With that John disappeared inside as Steve and Jim stood awkwardly like two spare parts at a wedding. Suddenly Steve produced a flask, “Fancy a brew mate?” “Don’t mind if I do.” Steve poured the tea into the plastic cup at the top of the flask, then refilled his Robocop mug”. “Nice mug.” “Thanks”. Steve looked up to Kayleigh’s bedroom. Jim watched his gaze and followed it upwards in the direction of a window with a heart shaped lamp at its centre. “He in the dog house again?” “How did you guess?” “She gets in a right mood when she’s pissed off with him”. Jim sighed before ruminating, “I think they just need a good talk.” “You ask me they need a bloody good shag!” For a second nothing was said as the two men simply looked at each other, in silence, before they both simultaneously broke into laughter and toasted each other with their mugs. Steve reached down into an ancient biscuit tin and brandishing it in front of Jim enquired, “Hob Nob?” With that, the male bond was firmly created. 

 John announced his arrival by calling out, “Hello! It’s John”. Mandy was in the kitchen up to her neck in carrots. She was shocked to see him but couldn’t deny that she was also delighted for her sister, “John Redmond! As I live and breathe. What brings you to the bright lights of Bury? Could it be a certain red head by any chance”.  Offering her a kiss on the cheek John smiled, ‘Hey Mandy. You rumbled me. She accepting visitors?” “She’s having a lie down upstairs.” “Any chance I could....?” “I’m not sure if I want you to finish that sentence”. “I just want to talk to her Mandy. We need to sort a few things.” “Do me a favour. Try to sort them in a way that doesn’t disturb the neighbours or traumatise the kids.” John smiled and looked suitably sheepish. “Up the stairs, first on the right.” “Thanks Mandy”. “Oh and John, do ya want a bit of roast?” “I’d love to but me mate Jim’s here with me. He’s outside with Steve.” “He can join us too if he likes. I’ve got half a cow ‘ere.” “Thanks Mandy, you’re a good ‘um.” With that, she smiled and retreated to the kitchen as John took a deep breath, climbed the stairs and knocked on Kayleigh’s bedroom door. She’d been lying on the bed with her headphones on listening to an old eighties mix tape. She hadn’t heard the knock at the door, so when it opened and John’s face peaked in, she literally shrieked, “JOHN!” Misty immediately started barking from the back garden. Only Kayleigh could reach that octave. She pulled her headphones off and immediately jumped off the bed. John stood in the doorway, his eardrums struggling to recover. “What are you doing here?!” “Well. I remembered it’s Sunday and I thought you might like a cuddle and a Chinese....or a cuddle and Mandy’s roast...or maybe just a cuddle.” Kayleigh stood so still, that he began to be concerned about what was to come, then without warning, she threw her arms around him and promptly burst into tears. “Oh John. I’m sooo sorry. I was so horrible to you. I didn’t mean to be such a nasty cow.” “Hey, sweetheart. Don’t get upset. It’s ok. It’s ok. You weren’t a nasty cow. You don’t have a nasty bone in your lovely little body. Don’t cry love.” “I just love you so much John”. “Look at me.” With that Kayleigh pulled back and faced him, wiping the tears from her eyes. “I’ve never said this to anyone before and it’s because I’ve never meant it until now. I should have said it to you weeks ago. The truth is, I probably knew it months ago...but I’m absolutely bloody certain of it now...I love you too Kayleigh Kitson. I love you more than I ever thought it was possible to love anyone or anything in this world and I’m scared. I’m terrified because for the first time in my life I’ve realised that something was missing and that something was you. If I lose you, I go back to who I was before and now I know that who I was before wasn’t complete. I had a Kayleigh Kitson shaped hole in my heart and in my life and I don’t want to go back. Not now, not ever.”...and there it was. He’d finally said it.

[lestuttle]

Katya beckoned to me, and without getting out of the carriage asked me to call Alyosha down.

He won’t hear of his daughter now, but he loves her, he loves her, Nellie, and wants to make peace with her. Katya beckoned to me, and without getting out of the carriage asked me to call Alyosha down. Look at it! What do you declare to us, in taking this course? Why, simply, as much as to say, “We cannot sustain you in the condition which you cannot avoid!” We cannot sustain you in the necessary conditions of slave-holding; one of its necessary conditions being the rejection of negro testimony! If it is not sinful to hold slaves, under all circumstances, it is not Mens ADIDAS ORIGINALS sinful to hold them in the only condition, and under the only circumstances, which they can be held. Two items really needed are tennis balls and children's sneakers, as many of the children play barefoot because they don't have any shoes.. Your Radiance will forgive me, but only one who is not herself Ghiscari would not understand the difference. 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[daishannigans]

What are all the moments we get with Eggsy and Tilde from the novelization?

I’m so glad you asked!

Eggsy thinks her accent is “adorable”

Tilde and Michelle get on so well -- like sickeningly well -- and Eggsy is so happy the “...two most important women in his life love each other...” (scratch that, he thinks -- it’s three, including ole Daisy) (I still can’t believe we, as a collective, managed to make Daisy a canon name?)

When they’re heading over to Brandon’s party, he sees her in the hoodie and pants and he just thinks that even when she’s dressed down, she still looks like royalty. (’He supposed she always would.’)

Tilde makes a comment about how beautiful the architecture is at his old estate and he’s a little taken aback because he ‘...doesn’t detect a hint of sarcasm in her voice...’ She’s so genuine! And wants to see the beauty in everything!

Their cover-story for how they met goes as follows: Tilde came into the Kingsman shop one day to find a new tailor for her father and Eggsy was the “...lucky bastard who got to help her...” Sparks flew, and they’ve been together ever since. What. A. Dream.

Eggsy constantly worries (in his head) that he’s not good enough to be with her, especially long-term. He’s like, how can a guy who grew up on a London council estate ever be good enough for a princess?

Eggsy is so stressed the morning of meeting her parents. They’re waiting outside by a cab and Brandon rolls up late and Eggsy’s snapping at him a little bit from the stress and Tilde shoots him looks like, “We’re so thankful you could dog-sit JB, Brandon. Aren’t we, Eggsy?” And Eggsy just murmurs, “Yeah, thanks,” before handing over the keys to his flat.

Eggsy actually didn’t pick the orange dinner jacket! Tilde did! He does love the jacket but he’s self-conscious in it because he doesn’t know if it’s appropriate or not but she tells him how handsome he looks in it and he immediately -- immediately -- starts feeling better about it.

Eggsy’s in such awe when he enters the palace for the first time. He murmurs, “Fuck me,” and she leans in and whispers, “I will. Later. Maybe in the throne room.” And they both giggle. (She’s a freak! Love her!)

When the attacks begin to happen, Eggsy darts out of the dining room, desperately trying to get someone on the comms. She follows, trying to catch up with him as he stumbles through the halls. Then, he turns around, stumbling over his words and not being too coherent -- “Stay here, I have to go. It’s safe here.” She wraps her arms around him, and at first he tries to move away -- he has to go -- but then he melts into it, accepting this one comfort. Softly, she tells him to do what he has to.

(Later, we find out that she told her parents the reason he freaked out was because some of his friends were caught in the “London Bombings” -- and assures him later that, despite that, her parents loved him.)

Remember when Eggsy tells Whiskey he got his Glasto tickets from his contact? His contact is literally Tilde. He told Whiskey to stay out in the car while he got the tickets -- he literally made Jack wait outside while he had a rigorous Welcome Home shag with Tilde. #Goals.

They’re having a “...post-coital cuddle...” and Tilde is tracing patterns into his chest and Eggsy tells her, in Swedish, that he loves her and Tilde smiles and kisses him and sighs, “God, I’ve missed you so much.”

She asks him if, after he’s done with everything, he wants to go house-hunting with her. And he thinks about how much it’ll hurt now Harry’s flat is gone, but decides it’ll be really good for them to have their own place.

Tilde, mischievously: “Do you want your present now?” / Eggsy: “I thought getting to see you was my present. There ain’t nothing I want more.” She then hops out of bed and gets the puppy from the bathroom.

Eggsy leaves the hotel, returning to Whiskey. Immediately, Whiskey says, “Do you always sleep with your contacts?” Nodding down to Eggsy’s shirt, “Your shirt was tucked in when you went in.”

Before they leave, they hear tapping from above. Looking up, there’s Tilde, in a bathrobe and the puppy in her arms. She smiles, broadly, and waves down at the boys. She’s so fucking cute - GOD.

(Bless her, she accidentally got them the wrong Glasto tickets.)

When Eggsy rings her up, he’s dreading it. He doesn’t want to tell her about the Clara stuff. He’d rather ask her how her day’s been, if she’s eaten. If she has, what did she have? Was it any good, babe?

Tilde, upon hearing Eggsy has to sleep with someone, immediately thinks it’s Whiskey. “Who?” She asks, “The old guy with you?”

Tilde: “Is she pretty?” / Eggsy: “Nowhere near as pretty as you.”

She asks for a photo of this girl he has to sleep with, and he actually sends her a really pretty photo of her and of course she’s not gonna be happy about it, dude! Oh, my God.

The thing that gets me the most is that when Eggsy sees Clara undress, he thinks about how the old Eggsy -- the Eggsy before he met Tilde -- would’ve already been shucking off his clothes and pulling Clara onto the bed but he can’t now. He only ‘...finds her attractive in the abstract...’ ‘...Nothing stirred in him.’

I really love her POV chapter, during the part where she’s sprawled out in bed, miserable, smoking a fat-ass joint (same, sister). She’s not even that upset that he has to sleep with someone else. It’s the fact she thought he wanted to be with her, have a future with her.Their relationship felt so good, and worked for as long as it did, because they were able to overlook each other’s upbringings, the labels -- these things that they can’t help -- and love each other anyway; share a life, in spite of all those things that would otherwise drive people away. But they can’t. She’s a public princess and he’s a secret agent and it’ll compromise the both of them if they made a big, public lifetime commitment to one another, and she begins to wonder if he ever even meant it when he said he wanted to spend his life with her. Why say it if he knows they can’t be public? Why say it if it’s a danger with the job? Why even begin a relationship like theirs if it wasn’t going to work out?

On the plane coming back from Glasto. Eggsy is desperately texting Tilde, trying to get a response. She does, telling him to stop texting her. She needs time to think. Eggsy to Whiskey: “Is the wifi working in here?” / Whiskey, casually playing pool as Eggsy’s life falls apart: “Yup. It’s your relationship that ain’t working.” / Eggsy: “She’s never ignored my texts before.” / Whiskey: “You never told her you didn’t have a future before.” (Sorry, divergent. But this is a really, really good scene that was cut and is supposed to parallel the martini scene with Harry and Eggsy. Here, Whiskey basically tells Eggsy that he should forget about Tilde. He’s a spy! They get to travel the world, fuck and chuck. They shouldn’t worry themselves with attachments. Whiskey: “Your friend Harry probably would’ve told you the same,” and Eggsy supposes he’s right about that. But then, of course, later on in the movie, Harry tells him the opposite. Which is probably why Eggsy looks so taken aback when Harry tells him that no, love as much as you can. Love is what makes life worth living.)

Eggsy sits at the bar, miserable, and checks his voicemail, just to see if Tilde called him and he missed it. She hadn’t. That No New Messages voice makes him feel cold. He stares at the photo of them with JB, which is his wallpaper, and is just absolutely wrecked. (TW: Suicide idealisation.) With losing Tilde, and everyone else, he leaves the bar and wishes some drunk sod would run him over so all this could be over. He wonders what’s the point of going on if he, a spy, can’t protect everyone and everything he loves? What’s the point when it’s all taken away from you? Jesus Christ, this book gets fucking dark sometimes.

Moving forward. Eggsy gets a text from Tilde:    HAPPY CLOUD HAT. FROG BUNS! GOT SOME NICE    WATERED-DOWN DRINKS FROM AMAZON? ;) She immediately rings him. He picks up, “Tilde?” But she doesn’t know who he is. Tilde: “Who is this?” / Eggsy: “What? You called me?” She hangs up. He calls her again, this time on FaceTime, and sees her face covered in the rash, like the movie. He freaks out, she’s talking a load of hysterical rubbish. Then, she freezes. Her father steps into shot, snatching the phone from her hands. “She’s in the third stage. Maybe if you hadn’t had broken her heart--” and then throws the phone onto the bed. All Eggsy can see is her in the distance, limbs bent at an awkward angle, her eyes glazed over but looking terrified (You’re conscious the whole time you’re stuck. The moment stage-three happens, the mania wears off.) Their new puppy skitters around on the bed, just as terrified. And Eggsy can’t do a thing about it.

Later, her parents have a room full of doctors surrounding her, trying to figure out how to help her. But they’re useless. Tilde, conscious, sees the puppy, scared, and wants to comfort him. She thinks of Eggsy, and wishes she could kick everyone out of her apartment and have him there instead. She wants to take him in her arms, she wants to touch him, hold his face. She wants to hear his voice, wants to tell him how much she loves him, how much she misses him. She wants to fix things.

They give her a cure. Then, as if on cue, her phone rings. Her father grabs it, and Tilde can see from afar that it’s Eggsy calling. She runs -- sprints -- to the phone and snatches it out of his hand to take the call. For a woman who was just paralysed, they all think, she sure can move.

Oh, Eggsy thinks she’s the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen in his life when he sees her walking down the aisle. He thinks that, from now on, beauty is gonna be measured and compared to this, to her in that dress. His eyes brim with tears, his heart feels full. Daisy follows closely behind her and Tilde’s father, in this adorable little dress (she’s a bridesmaid!), with Tilde’s ring clutched in her little, toddler hand, and with “...a grin a mile-wide.” She’s so happy for her big brother!

The priest begins to do the ritual and Eggsy is so busy looking at her that he can’t hear a single thing the priest is saying. The both of them smile at each other, bursting with pride and happiness and love.

Daisy has Tilde’s ring, and Harry has Eggsy’s. Should I add that the dogs are at the wedding too? Harry names his Yorkie, Hamish, after Merlin. And Eggsy names his new pug after JB (JB2)

A little extra. The wedding hall is divided. One side is Tilde’s relatives, and the other is Eggsy’s. Tilde’s side is very reserved, very regal, whereas Eggsy’s are a lot more boisterous and energetic. Champ begins to heckle Tilde’s side as the pair kiss. Champ: “Hey! Lighten up, guys! This ain’t a goddamn funeral! Champagne’s on me!” Then: “Hit it, Elton!” And Elton breaks out into song: “Kiss the Bride”.(It doesn’t take long for the Bop to liven up Tilde’s side of the church)TBH... wedding of the year.